Huh. It turns out that a majority of Americans might not actually think that the government gathering information on everybody's phone calls is A-OK. Damn -- and the Right had that ten-point bump of George Bush's already spent. That's a shame.
But seriously, the more I hear about things like this, and the more defenses of them that I see, the more I think that the Right has just recycled all of its twenty-year-old "It's OK as long as it helps us beat the Communists!" arguments, and just crossed out the word "Communists" and written "Terrorists" in its place.
UPDATE: Hoo-boy...it seems that the country wishes the last guy was still in charge. That's gotta hurt.
The personal blog of author Kelly Sedinger, chronicling the adventures of one overalls-clad wanderer.
Saturday, May 13, 2006
Whoa, we're halfway there....
To win the Stanley Cup, a NHL team must win sixteen games in the playoffs.
As of about five minutes ago, the Buffalo Sabres have eight of those wins under their belts.
We're always pointing out in these parts that there's no silver bullet that will solve Buffalo's problems. But I'm starting to think that a big silver Cup might just help things out considerably....
As of about five minutes ago, the Buffalo Sabres have eight of those wins under their belts.
We're always pointing out in these parts that there's no silver bullet that will solve Buffalo's problems. But I'm starting to think that a big silver Cup might just help things out considerably....
It's...so...beautiful! (snif snif)
The Wife called me at work the other day to report on something she'd seen whilst out and about, something she knew I'd want to know about. I was excited by what she'd told me, but I kept it in until today, when I went out and saw for myself, just to make sure she hadn't misinterpreted what she'd seen.
She didn't.
It's true.
Borders is coming to the Southtowns. Specifically, to Quaker Crossing, the new shopping center right off Milestrip Road in my own hometown.
For the first time, I won't have to drive across the Buffalo metro region, at least to Cheektowaga, to go to a good bookstore. In fact, the distance is such that if doing so didn't involve crossing at least two major four-lane thoroughfares, I could walk to one.
It's the Southtowns, bitches!
She didn't.
It's true.
Borders is coming to the Southtowns. Specifically, to Quaker Crossing, the new shopping center right off Milestrip Road in my own hometown.
For the first time, I won't have to drive across the Buffalo metro region, at least to Cheektowaga, to go to a good bookstore. In fact, the distance is such that if doing so didn't involve crossing at least two major four-lane thoroughfares, I could walk to one.
It's the Southtowns, bitches!
The Organization of Too Damn Many CDs
John describes his filing system for his CDs, and so I shall do the same. Because, well, why not?
The largest unit I own has seven shelves (you can see it behind me in this photo). Part of the top shelf is used currently for items that don't fit in the other units, like double-disc sets of filmscores and the like. Next comes the Celtic music collection, which takes up about two-thirds of one shelf (currently about 70 or so discs). These I arrange alphabetically by artist, with multiple discs by artists arranged in order of release. After the single-artist CDs come the compilations, which are arranged alphabetically by title.
Next comes classical. These are arranged alphabetically by composer, starting with Leroy Anderson and going all the way down to Meredith Wilson. Within each composer's ranks, works are arranged roughly by type: symphonies first, followed by concerted works and then chamber music or instrumental solos, with operas, oratorios, cantatas, and large-scale choral works coming last (but not least).
At the end of the "main" classical section comes discs that aren't themed by composer, but by type of album. Here I have orchestral compilations, followed by wind ensemble/wind band compilations. Then there are the chamber compilations, followed by solo instrumental compilations, and finally solo vocal compilations.
Now, one problem that arises with classical is what's a compilation and what isn't. I have a CD, for example, of Van Cliburn performing two piano concertos: the Rachmaninov Second and the Beethoven Fifth ("Emperor"). Since it's only two major works on the disc, it doesn't really feel like a compilation -- but then, where do I put it? With Beethoven, or with Rachmaninov? My general approach with CDs like this, when the two or three works on the disc are of comparable heft (in terms of running time on the disc), is to go by the first work on the disc. In this particular case, that means I keep the disc with the Beethoven CDs. (Of course, the trouble that arises is that I sometimes forget that this disc has the Rachmaninov on it, so I don't listen to Van Cliburn's Rach Second as much as I do either of my two versions by Vladimir Ashkenazy.)
Sometimes this is pretty easy, though: if a CD has a long work by one composer paired with a short work by another, it goes under the composer of the long work. Multiple operas are filed in alphabetical order by title.
That takes care of the freestanding unit. Beside this unit I have a plastic spinning unit that is designed to hold two hundred CDs. However, this design assumes that one uses the little grooves in the unit to store them flat; I discovered that it actually will hold even more if I ignore the grooves and just stick the CDs in there upright. Here is the bulk of my film music collection, arranged alphabetically by title. (The discs in this unit start with scores that begin with the letter 'C'. The A's and B's are found elsewhere. More in a bit.) Now, I'm a bit loose with the "By title" bit: I group the three CDs of the Omen Trilogy scores together, even though in strict alphabetical-by-title fashion, I'd split them up with the second one first, the third one second, and the first one last. But for the most part I stick to the titles. At the end of those, I have more compilation albums. These I split out into single-composer compilations, filed by composer, and then into multi-composer compilations, which are filed alphabetically by title. (Lots of film music fans, like John, arrange filmscores by composer. I don't do this, although not for any real reason -- I've just always done it this way.)
Then I have two cruddy "sliding drawer" boxes. These contain my "New Age", jazz, and "vocal" selections, as well as the A's and B's of the film music. I rarely buy any New Age or jazz anymore; ditto the "vocal" stuff (here's where I keep my Sinatra, Bobby Darin, Bing Crosby, and the like). There is also a free shelf on the entertainment center where all of my specifically Asian music resides: Asian classical music, anime soundtracks, Canto-pop, and the like. Tucked away on the same shelf, but behind the Asian stuff, is the Christmas music.
Finally, I have a bunch of CDs that are currently sitting haphazardly on the bookshelf beside my writing desk. These are special favorites of mine, for which I want to find a very special location near my writing desk so I'll always be able to stick them into the Discman while I'm working. I haven't come up with anything yet, so there they sit. Among these discs are my Lord of the Rings recordings, the Star Wars scores (along with several other John Williams favorites), my Solti Der Ring des Nibelungen, the live Colin Davis Romeo et Juliet and Les Troyens by Berlioz, and the like.
And none of this takes into account the CDs that I have laying about in an unfiled state.
So there you go. And to think, when I went to college for my freshman year, my CD collection consisted of a grand total of nine discs.
The largest unit I own has seven shelves (you can see it behind me in this photo). Part of the top shelf is used currently for items that don't fit in the other units, like double-disc sets of filmscores and the like. Next comes the Celtic music collection, which takes up about two-thirds of one shelf (currently about 70 or so discs). These I arrange alphabetically by artist, with multiple discs by artists arranged in order of release. After the single-artist CDs come the compilations, which are arranged alphabetically by title.
Next comes classical. These are arranged alphabetically by composer, starting with Leroy Anderson and going all the way down to Meredith Wilson. Within each composer's ranks, works are arranged roughly by type: symphonies first, followed by concerted works and then chamber music or instrumental solos, with operas, oratorios, cantatas, and large-scale choral works coming last (but not least).
At the end of the "main" classical section comes discs that aren't themed by composer, but by type of album. Here I have orchestral compilations, followed by wind ensemble/wind band compilations. Then there are the chamber compilations, followed by solo instrumental compilations, and finally solo vocal compilations.
Now, one problem that arises with classical is what's a compilation and what isn't. I have a CD, for example, of Van Cliburn performing two piano concertos: the Rachmaninov Second and the Beethoven Fifth ("Emperor"). Since it's only two major works on the disc, it doesn't really feel like a compilation -- but then, where do I put it? With Beethoven, or with Rachmaninov? My general approach with CDs like this, when the two or three works on the disc are of comparable heft (in terms of running time on the disc), is to go by the first work on the disc. In this particular case, that means I keep the disc with the Beethoven CDs. (Of course, the trouble that arises is that I sometimes forget that this disc has the Rachmaninov on it, so I don't listen to Van Cliburn's Rach Second as much as I do either of my two versions by Vladimir Ashkenazy.)
Sometimes this is pretty easy, though: if a CD has a long work by one composer paired with a short work by another, it goes under the composer of the long work. Multiple operas are filed in alphabetical order by title.
That takes care of the freestanding unit. Beside this unit I have a plastic spinning unit that is designed to hold two hundred CDs. However, this design assumes that one uses the little grooves in the unit to store them flat; I discovered that it actually will hold even more if I ignore the grooves and just stick the CDs in there upright. Here is the bulk of my film music collection, arranged alphabetically by title. (The discs in this unit start with scores that begin with the letter 'C'. The A's and B's are found elsewhere. More in a bit.) Now, I'm a bit loose with the "By title" bit: I group the three CDs of the Omen Trilogy scores together, even though in strict alphabetical-by-title fashion, I'd split them up with the second one first, the third one second, and the first one last. But for the most part I stick to the titles. At the end of those, I have more compilation albums. These I split out into single-composer compilations, filed by composer, and then into multi-composer compilations, which are filed alphabetically by title. (Lots of film music fans, like John, arrange filmscores by composer. I don't do this, although not for any real reason -- I've just always done it this way.)
Then I have two cruddy "sliding drawer" boxes. These contain my "New Age", jazz, and "vocal" selections, as well as the A's and B's of the film music. I rarely buy any New Age or jazz anymore; ditto the "vocal" stuff (here's where I keep my Sinatra, Bobby Darin, Bing Crosby, and the like). There is also a free shelf on the entertainment center where all of my specifically Asian music resides: Asian classical music, anime soundtracks, Canto-pop, and the like. Tucked away on the same shelf, but behind the Asian stuff, is the Christmas music.
Finally, I have a bunch of CDs that are currently sitting haphazardly on the bookshelf beside my writing desk. These are special favorites of mine, for which I want to find a very special location near my writing desk so I'll always be able to stick them into the Discman while I'm working. I haven't come up with anything yet, so there they sit. Among these discs are my Lord of the Rings recordings, the Star Wars scores (along with several other John Williams favorites), my Solti Der Ring des Nibelungen, the live Colin Davis Romeo et Juliet and Les Troyens by Berlioz, and the like.
And none of this takes into account the CDs that I have laying about in an unfiled state.
So there you go. And to think, when I went to college for my freshman year, my CD collection consisted of a grand total of nine discs.
So THAT's what Marv was talking about
When Marv Levy was named General Manager of the Buffalo Bills last January, he made it very clear that "character" was going to be the main factor he used in deciding which players to bring on board the team through free agency and the draft. "Good talent plus poor character will lose", he said. Clearly, then, he didn't approve of the kinds of individuals his predecessor, Tom Donahoe, had brought aboard.
So this week, apparently Willis McGahee, the current starting running back and the unquestionable crown jewel of Donahoe's tenure, opened his mouth in an interview and demonstrated some good character:
So this week, apparently Willis McGahee, the current starting running back and the unquestionable crown jewel of Donahoe's tenure, opened his mouth in an interview and demonstrated some good character:
Q: Do you think you'll always live in Miami?
A: I think I'll always come back to Miami. I don't know about live in it. I need to get out of it because I'm bad.
Q: Would you describe yourself that way?
A: No, I've calmed down a whole lot.
Q: Was there anything that made you calm down?
A: My kids. I got two kids.
Q: How old are they?
A: One of them is 15 months and the other is five months.
Q: So far, what's the most difficult thing about fatherhood?
A: Nothing right now. Not for me. Just dealing with the mother. That's the difficult part. After that, everything is cool.
Q: What's more troublesome, an ex-wife or a baby momma?
A: A baby momma.
Q: Why?
A: Because they feel like they should be a part of your life for 18 years. An ex-wife, you can get away from her. A baby momma, you can't get away from her until the child is 18 or older. They're going to constantly ask you for money. They just want to nag you for no reason, just because they can. (Willis has never been married.)
Now, there's not a lot of context here, so it could be the case that McGahee fathered two children with women who are, well, not of particularly good character themselves. But even if that were the case, and the mothers of McGahee's two children were golddiggers who were constantly hitting on him for money, well -- one still wouldn't say that in a print interview, right?
Yeesh.
And by the way, Mr. McGahee: the mother of your children is in your life for a lot longer than eighteen years. Parenthood is a "for life" kind of thing.
(via BFLOBlog)
Wednesday, May 10, 2006
Small place, this Blogistan....
So I hopped over to Lynn's place, and read this post, in which she writes about a new Burger King ad or some such thing. Haven't seen the ad yet, but knowing my own sense of humor, I'd probably find it funny too. But she links a Pandagon post in disagreement. Pandagon's been on my blogroll forever, but I missed this particular post, so I checked it out -- and found LCScotty, a Buffalo blogger and regular reader here whom I've actually met in person, in the comments!
I don't have any real point here. I just think it's cool to follow links around and randomly encounter people I already know.
I don't have any real point here. I just think it's cool to follow links around and randomly encounter people I already know.
Will we find out whatever happened to Mandy?
This Sunday will bring us the final episode of The West Wing. Unlike many, I don't think the show suffered mightily when Aaron Sorkin left, mainly because I thought Sorkin was running out of steam in that fourth season anyway. The fifth season took a long time to find its tone, but it had its moments, and the show got genuinely interesting again with the campaign to succeed President Bartlet. Now, since the whole election storyline ended, the most recent episodes have felt somewhat rushed, as though the writers are trying to plow through everything that's left, with some strange results:
1. Josh hasn't been in either of the last two episodes, but don't you think he'd have something to say about President-elect Santos's appointment of Arnold Vinick as Secretary of State?
2. If Sam Seaborn was going to be doing what Josh would have been doing for Santos had Josh not been on vacation, then why haven't we seen anything at all of Sam?
3. Stipulating that the answer to that last question hinges on the producers' inability to get Rob Lowe to break himself free from his packed acting schedule (please add sarcastic tone, if reading aloud), why wouldn't one of the other characters comment on Sam's presence? Something like:
CHARLIE: Hey, CJ, you see Sam's back in town?
CJ: Yeah. Santos's deputy chief. Good for him, huh?
CHARLIE: Yeah, but he'd have had that if he'd just stayed here.
CJ: Yeah.
4. The state of affairs of having a winning Vice Presidential candidate die on election night is pretty special, right? Seems to me that finding a new VP would have warranted a more prominent storyline.
5. We've seen almost nothing of the Bartlets. Sure, a new guy's coming in, but the old guy's going out, and frankly, he's the one we're emotionally invested in as longtime viewers. We've had lots of screentime devoted to what CJ's going to do after she leaves the White House. We've seen nothing of Bartlet's plans. Here's a guy who got pushed into running by his best friend, got elected even though he never thought he'd even be nominated, suffered a massive scandal over his MS, lost his beloved secretary, got re-elected, lost his best friend on election night...and we've seen almost nothing of him since.
I think they probably should have wrapped up the election a bit sooner, and left more time to do the transition right, especially since they had the foreknowledge that the show was ending.
The final episode looks to focus on the Inaugural, by the appearance of the preview. Frankly, I would have liked the Inaugural to be the second to last episode, and have the actual finale contrast the first days of the new Administration with Jed and Abby Bartlet settling in at home in New Hampshire again. Maybe this for a final exchange:
1. Josh hasn't been in either of the last two episodes, but don't you think he'd have something to say about President-elect Santos's appointment of Arnold Vinick as Secretary of State?
2. If Sam Seaborn was going to be doing what Josh would have been doing for Santos had Josh not been on vacation, then why haven't we seen anything at all of Sam?
3. Stipulating that the answer to that last question hinges on the producers' inability to get Rob Lowe to break himself free from his packed acting schedule (please add sarcastic tone, if reading aloud), why wouldn't one of the other characters comment on Sam's presence? Something like:
CHARLIE: Hey, CJ, you see Sam's back in town?
CJ: Yeah. Santos's deputy chief. Good for him, huh?
CHARLIE: Yeah, but he'd have had that if he'd just stayed here.
CJ: Yeah.
4. The state of affairs of having a winning Vice Presidential candidate die on election night is pretty special, right? Seems to me that finding a new VP would have warranted a more prominent storyline.
5. We've seen almost nothing of the Bartlets. Sure, a new guy's coming in, but the old guy's going out, and frankly, he's the one we're emotionally invested in as longtime viewers. We've had lots of screentime devoted to what CJ's going to do after she leaves the White House. We've seen nothing of Bartlet's plans. Here's a guy who got pushed into running by his best friend, got elected even though he never thought he'd even be nominated, suffered a massive scandal over his MS, lost his beloved secretary, got re-elected, lost his best friend on election night...and we've seen almost nothing of him since.
I think they probably should have wrapped up the election a bit sooner, and left more time to do the transition right, especially since they had the foreknowledge that the show was ending.
The final episode looks to focus on the Inaugural, by the appearance of the preview. Frankly, I would have liked the Inaugural to be the second to last episode, and have the actual finale contrast the first days of the new Administration with Jed and Abby Bartlet settling in at home in New Hampshire again. Maybe this for a final exchange:
Abbey joins Bartlet on the porch of the farmhouse.
ABBEY: Did you forget how cold the winters are up here?
BARTLET: Nah. But I forgot how much quieter our porch is than the Truman Balcony. And you know, it's a lot nicer view without that big obelisk in the way.
ABBEY: I read in the paper that Josh is apologizing for something he said to Mary Marsh.
BARTLET: Yeah. The more things change, eh?
ABBEY: Yeah. (beat) We should go inside now.
BARTLET: Yeah.
Bartlet puts his arm around her, and together they walk toward the door.
BARTLET: What's next?
Fade out.
Or maybe something else...but I really hope that John Wells knows this show well enough to know that the very last line ever spoken on The West Wing just has to be "What's next".
(BTW, a few years back I posted about my favorite West Wing episodes. Not much has changed since I made that list.)
Attention Buffalo Bloggers!
Check in with Jennifer, who's taking names and counting heads for the next Buffalo BloggerCon, which will almost certainly take place at Chestnut Ridge Park in the glorious and quaint settlement of Orchard Park.
I plan to definitely attend!
I plan to definitely attend!
Tuesday, May 09, 2006
Flushing things out....
Folks, when one has a head-cold and is stuffy and mucousy and oozy about the nose and sinuses, rinsing all that crap out of the lower sinuses with a Neti pot is sweet, sweet relief. It sure beats waiting for the Dayquil to kick in, anyway.
A very public service message.
OK, folks, I've decided that manually approving every comment to this blog is a pain in the ass, and it didn't really help matters anyway. It was, in all likelihood, and impediment to any conversations that might have taken place here, and I still had to manually delete spam comments anyway. Hopefully Blogger's word-verification thingie will be more effective.
I'm leaving the old comment system up for a while longer, probably a week or two, just to let the old threads remain accessible. But please do not comment on the old system anymore, as I'll be monitoring it less and less frequently, and thus comments would only get approved when I got around to checking in over there. I've set things up so that anyone can comment here, although it frankly is easier if you have a Blogger account. I'd recommend setting one up, as they're free, but anonymous commenting is allowed here. Just make sure you sign who you are, if that's the way it works.
YACCS was a good system, and it served me well for more than four years of blogging, and I thank them for their service.
I'm leaving the old comment system up for a while longer, probably a week or two, just to let the old threads remain accessible. But please do not comment on the old system anymore, as I'll be monitoring it less and less frequently, and thus comments would only get approved when I got around to checking in over there. I've set things up so that anyone can comment here, although it frankly is easier if you have a Blogger account. I'd recommend setting one up, as they're free, but anonymous commenting is allowed here. Just make sure you sign who you are, if that's the way it works.
YACCS was a good system, and it served me well for more than four years of blogging, and I thank them for their service.
Monday, May 08, 2006
Sentential Links #48
Time again for some linkage to good and readable stuff!
:: Now, some magicians do magic with their speedy hands. Some contort their bodies in difficult ways. Some make you laugh. David Blaine is the only one I can think of whose tricks generally consist of him doing absolutely nothing at all. (Tell me about it. I'd rather watch an old Doug Henning act than any of Blaine's "passive Evel Knievel" crap.)
:: So in fact, Reynolds has managed to fit five units of wrongness into only four declarative statements! This is the hackular equivalent of crossing the Chandrasekhar Limit, at which point your blog cannot help but collapse in on itself. It is unknown at this point whether the resulting end state will be an intermediate neutron-blog phase, or whether the collapse will proceed all the way to a singularity surrounded by a black hole event horizon. We may have to wait for the neutrino signal to be sure. (There's just something cool about astrophysicist snark.)
:: The West is a haunted place where the new ghosts push the old ones a little farther back in memory all the time, even as the writers return them to life once again.
:: I don't know that I have ever been in a bar as divey as even a reasonably nice OTB-- I don't think a bar could be that divey, or an opium den, either. OTB is a step above crackhouse on the glamour scale-- barely. (Ouch.)
:: "She'll always be Ensign Ro to me," he concluded. Maybe this won't be so bad after all. (Blog found by Lynn.
:: Joss Whedon has the most persuasive and stunning vision of evil in all of popular culture. (You gotta like a blog that's unafraid of a bold statement or two! Also via Lynn.)
:: Remember, it's Monday. Everybody's incompetent at 7 o'clock on a Monday morning.
:: There we were, cruising along nicely, and some doofus in the trumpet section came in two beats too early. (Shit, been there, my friend. One of the movements of Percy Grainger's Lincolnshire Posy has these giant, smashing brass chords, like six of them, all in a row. One time I lost count and added a seventh. All by myself. Really loud. Well, if you're gonna screw up, make it a big one, eh? BTW, this blogger's having a rough time lately. Give him some love.)
:: The big advantage that writing (and especially written fiction, my preferred art form) has over other media for conveying experience is that the writer can try to incorporate bits of other, imaginary minds in their serialized stream of consciousness. Writing isn't just a camera, or even a technicolor camera with Dolby surround-sound recording: it's a camera with flickering, blurry, black-and-white, routinely-malfunctioning telepathy bolted on the side.
All for now. I'm off to shove something bristly up my nose and into my sinuses.
:: Now, some magicians do magic with their speedy hands. Some contort their bodies in difficult ways. Some make you laugh. David Blaine is the only one I can think of whose tricks generally consist of him doing absolutely nothing at all. (Tell me about it. I'd rather watch an old Doug Henning act than any of Blaine's "passive Evel Knievel" crap.)
:: So in fact, Reynolds has managed to fit five units of wrongness into only four declarative statements! This is the hackular equivalent of crossing the Chandrasekhar Limit, at which point your blog cannot help but collapse in on itself. It is unknown at this point whether the resulting end state will be an intermediate neutron-blog phase, or whether the collapse will proceed all the way to a singularity surrounded by a black hole event horizon. We may have to wait for the neutrino signal to be sure. (There's just something cool about astrophysicist snark.)
:: The West is a haunted place where the new ghosts push the old ones a little farther back in memory all the time, even as the writers return them to life once again.
:: I don't know that I have ever been in a bar as divey as even a reasonably nice OTB-- I don't think a bar could be that divey, or an opium den, either. OTB is a step above crackhouse on the glamour scale-- barely. (Ouch.)
:: "She'll always be Ensign Ro to me," he concluded. Maybe this won't be so bad after all. (Blog found by Lynn.
:: Joss Whedon has the most persuasive and stunning vision of evil in all of popular culture. (You gotta like a blog that's unafraid of a bold statement or two! Also via Lynn.)
:: Remember, it's Monday. Everybody's incompetent at 7 o'clock on a Monday morning.
:: There we were, cruising along nicely, and some doofus in the trumpet section came in two beats too early. (Shit, been there, my friend. One of the movements of Percy Grainger's Lincolnshire Posy has these giant, smashing brass chords, like six of them, all in a row. One time I lost count and added a seventh. All by myself. Really loud. Well, if you're gonna screw up, make it a big one, eh? BTW, this blogger's having a rough time lately. Give him some love.)
:: The big advantage that writing (and especially written fiction, my preferred art form) has over other media for conveying experience is that the writer can try to incorporate bits of other, imaginary minds in their serialized stream of consciousness. Writing isn't just a camera, or even a technicolor camera with Dolby surround-sound recording: it's a camera with flickering, blurry, black-and-white, routinely-malfunctioning telepathy bolted on the side.
All for now. I'm off to shove something bristly up my nose and into my sinuses.
Stupid cold....
So I managed to get through the entire winter without getting sick, and now I have a cold. Stupid germs. I hate them so much....
Anyway, as promised yesterday, I've put a bunch of photos from my family's outing to the Tifft Nature Preserve up at the Flickr photostream. That is one nifty place, folks -- all Buffalonians should check it out.
Anyway, as promised yesterday, I've put a bunch of photos from my family's outing to the Tifft Nature Preserve up at the Flickr photostream. That is one nifty place, folks -- all Buffalonians should check it out.
Sunday, May 07, 2006
A rare display of Rampant Purism
I'm not much of a purist about anything, but I have to say that it really annoys me that Gatorade has a commercial airing right now that has an instrumental of "Take Me Out To The Ballgame" accompanying footage of soccer.
(I've got to admit that I pretty much find soccer to be about as interesting to watch as the air-drying of oil-based paints. I don't care if the rest of the world is gaga over it; every time I've watched it, I've come away thinking, "How can everybody else be so into this?" I mean, so far as I can tell, The Simpsons pretty much nailed what soccer's like.)
(I've got to admit that I pretty much find soccer to be about as interesting to watch as the air-drying of oil-based paints. I don't care if the rest of the world is gaga over it; every time I've watched it, I've come away thinking, "How can everybody else be so into this?" I mean, so far as I can tell, The Simpsons pretty much nailed what soccer's like.)
Sunday Burst of Weirdness
Mr. Sun has composed several rounds of poetry on the theme of...his allergies. Round One, round two, and round three.
Okily-dokily.
Okily-dokily.
Perspective, again
I only read Snopes.com about once a month these days, as that's about as often as I need to do so in order to catch up with them. (Not that this is a complaint about Snopes.com; just a statement of how I read them.) So yesterday I was reading along, and I found this item. Putting it succinctly, it turns out that as of at least a short time ago, the grave of Casey Sheehan -- the son of now-famous anti-war activist Cindy Sheehan -- was unmarked, even though Casey Sheehan has been dead for quite some time now. And yes, lots of folks are trumpeting this as some sort of indictment of Cindy Sheehan.
Well, I'm not the biggest fan of Cindy Sheehan around, but let me say this: if you're going to tag her as a bad mother or bad person because she hasn't put a stone on her son's grave, then you'd best tag me as well, for the exact same reason.
There is no stone yet on Little Quinn's grave. Sure, a stone is expensive, but we could come up with the money if we considered it to be an essential thing right now, and frankly, it's just not that big a priority with us. We know where he is, and more importantly, we know where he isn't. The carved stone is just window dressing. It is, by far, the least important part of the whole death thing, and the lack of a stone on Casey Sheehan's grave says far less about Cindy Sheehan than the trumpeting of that lack of a stone says about those who would demonize her for any reason they can find.
Well, I'm not the biggest fan of Cindy Sheehan around, but let me say this: if you're going to tag her as a bad mother or bad person because she hasn't put a stone on her son's grave, then you'd best tag me as well, for the exact same reason.
There is no stone yet on Little Quinn's grave. Sure, a stone is expensive, but we could come up with the money if we considered it to be an essential thing right now, and frankly, it's just not that big a priority with us. We know where he is, and more importantly, we know where he isn't. The carved stone is just window dressing. It is, by far, the least important part of the whole death thing, and the lack of a stone on Casey Sheehan's grave says far less about Cindy Sheehan than the trumpeting of that lack of a stone says about those who would demonize her for any reason they can find.
Perspective, folks
Longtime readers will know that I was a big fan of Barry Bonds up until it pretty much became unquestionable, probably about a year ago, that he had taken steroids. Sure, there was suspicion, but the weight of testimonial evidence didn't really become conclusive until then. It took me a long time to give up on the guy, even if I eventually did. He used illicit substances to get more out of his body than his body was capable of producing and then lied and stonewalled about it. That the guy is a premier sports villain now is, I think, beyond dispute.
But is he really the number one villain in sports? When Bonds's actions are juxtaposed with the runners-up on that list, it seems to me that Bonds comes out as less the villain than some of these other guys. Hell, the person named as an "honorable mention" strikes me as being a worse guy than Bonds -- but then, I tend to think that a person who willingly commits assault is a worse person than a jerk who takes banned substances to get ahead. Maybe it's just me, but in terms of sheer jerkness, Bonds is small fry beside Bobby Knight.
And really, when I look at this list and see just how much many of these folks are still revered in some circles, it saddens me to realize that the whole high-school attitude of "Let the jock be the biggest jerk he wants, as long as he takes us to State" doesn't end when we graduate high school. If I did the equivalent of some of this stuff in my job, I wouldn't just get fired. I'd go to jail.
But is he really the number one villain in sports? When Bonds's actions are juxtaposed with the runners-up on that list, it seems to me that Bonds comes out as less the villain than some of these other guys. Hell, the person named as an "honorable mention" strikes me as being a worse guy than Bonds -- but then, I tend to think that a person who willingly commits assault is a worse person than a jerk who takes banned substances to get ahead. Maybe it's just me, but in terms of sheer jerkness, Bonds is small fry beside Bobby Knight.
And really, when I look at this list and see just how much many of these folks are still revered in some circles, it saddens me to realize that the whole high-school attitude of "Let the jock be the biggest jerk he wants, as long as he takes us to State" doesn't end when we graduate high school. If I did the equivalent of some of this stuff in my job, I wouldn't just get fired. I'd go to jail.
See, this here is where we type stuff.
Sorry about the long delay between postings, Gentle Readers! Yesterday was a day of domestic goodness (laundry, grocery shopping, going to the library, etc.), and Friday was -- well, I just didn't have much to say on Friday.
We just got back from an outing to the Tifft Nature Preserve, which is one of those free-to-attend treasures that nobody seems to know exists around here. It was a great time; we took a picnic lunch and then spent a couple of hours wandering the trails, covering only about half of them. I'll have pictures up on Flickr either later today or tomorrow evening (more likely tomorrow evening), but until then, here's a tree that we passed on the way out and found particularly striking:
What's especially amazing about the Tifft Preserve is that it's almost literally in the shadow of downtown Buffalo: from certain places within its boundary, one can see the HSBC Tower looming. The natural environment and the built environment don't have to be seen always as diametrical opposites.
We just got back from an outing to the Tifft Nature Preserve, which is one of those free-to-attend treasures that nobody seems to know exists around here. It was a great time; we took a picnic lunch and then spent a couple of hours wandering the trails, covering only about half of them. I'll have pictures up on Flickr either later today or tomorrow evening (more likely tomorrow evening), but until then, here's a tree that we passed on the way out and found particularly striking:
What's especially amazing about the Tifft Preserve is that it's almost literally in the shadow of downtown Buffalo: from certain places within its boundary, one can see the HSBC Tower looming. The natural environment and the built environment don't have to be seen always as diametrical opposites.
Thursday, May 04, 2006
Han shoots first!!!
The original versions of the first three Star Wars films are to be released on DVD, due to "overwhelming demand". Unless I find these on sale someplace really cheap at some point, I doubt I'll bother buying them; I've never been terribly fixated on the faults of the Special Editions, and in a number of cases, I actually prefer them. I just hope I don't hear a fresh round of "Look at Lucas the moneygrubber" talk as he bilks his fans yet again. Just about every major movie these days sees multiple DVD releases, and that's not even taking into account any new formats that are coming down the pike.
Anyway, that's that. Han will shoot first again. Big whoop.
Anyway, that's that. Han will shoot first again. Big whoop.
Blank-filling, in progress
John tagged me with this:
I am pretty tired now that the end of my work week is approaching.
I want reform in Albany that will allow Upstate New York to stop dying on the vine.
I wish my son was still alive.
I hate hot weather.
I love my family, my friends, my workplace, and Star Wars.
I miss the feeling that another Star Wars movie was in the offing.
I fear direct confrontations.
I hear Maya and Miguel on PBS Kids.
I wonder what the setting will be for Guy Gavriel Kay's next novel.
I regret nearly every minute spent not writing, and waiting until my current age to start developing handy skills.
I am not nearly as skilled with hand tools as I wish to be. (But that's changing.)
I dance only when alone, although I'd love to learn Irish step-dancing and how to do a real, good waltz.
I sing constantly when I'm alone -- mostly showtunes.
I cry havoc, just before I let slip the dogs of war.
I am not always as thorough as I should be with certain tasks.
I make with my hands pretty good macaroni and cheese, pastitsio, fried chicken, and hushpuppies.
I write the songs that make the whole world sing....(Well, OK. I write the things I feel like writing. No more, no less.)
I confuse "rein" with "reign", which makes for some hilariously parsing sentences in my book wherein the main mode of transportation is the horse.
I need to lose a bit of weight. The overalls have been snugger than usual lately. Luckily, it's the right time of year for it.
I should write more.
I start laughing, and then I often can't stop.
I finish The Promised King this year. No more excuses.
I tag no one. Freebie here, folks.
I am pretty tired now that the end of my work week is approaching.
I want reform in Albany that will allow Upstate New York to stop dying on the vine.
I wish my son was still alive.
I hate hot weather.
I love my family, my friends, my workplace, and Star Wars.
I miss the feeling that another Star Wars movie was in the offing.
I fear direct confrontations.
I hear Maya and Miguel on PBS Kids.
I wonder what the setting will be for Guy Gavriel Kay's next novel.
I regret nearly every minute spent not writing, and waiting until my current age to start developing handy skills.
I am not nearly as skilled with hand tools as I wish to be. (But that's changing.)
I dance only when alone, although I'd love to learn Irish step-dancing and how to do a real, good waltz.
I sing constantly when I'm alone -- mostly showtunes.
I cry havoc, just before I let slip the dogs of war.
I am not always as thorough as I should be with certain tasks.
I make with my hands pretty good macaroni and cheese, pastitsio, fried chicken, and hushpuppies.
I write the songs that make the whole world sing....(Well, OK. I write the things I feel like writing. No more, no less.)
I confuse "rein" with "reign", which makes for some hilariously parsing sentences in my book wherein the main mode of transportation is the horse.
I need to lose a bit of weight. The overalls have been snugger than usual lately. Luckily, it's the right time of year for it.
I should write more.
I start laughing, and then I often can't stop.
I finish The Promised King this year. No more excuses.
I tag no one. Freebie here, folks.
Wednesday, May 03, 2006
A query
A reader e-mailed to inform me that the YACCS commenting system here is, well, a pain in the ass. Is this the general opinion of the readership? I've been considering switching over to Blogger's commenting system anyway, since it's kind of annoying to have to approve each individual comment. With Blogger's system, I could just use the "funky word verification" thingie. Thoughts, readers?
A stumper
ACD asks:
Why is it that activist zealots are almost always left-of-center types, and why is it that they're all so paranoid-loony (not to mention almost always in error)? [Emphasis added]
Huh. Good question. I just don't know. It's quite the head-scratcher.
(Not that the item ACD links isn't pretty damned kooky, mind you. Come on, folks. Four college students versus Microsoft? Yeesh.)
GAHHH!
As long as I've been reading him, Alan has been touting the reality TV show The Amazing Race, which I've avoided watching, until this season, when I watched an episode a few weeks back just to get an idea of what the show was about.
Now I'm friggin' hooked on the damn show.
I'm rooting for BJ and Tyler, the hippies. They just crack me up: "Dude, don't touch the termite mounds! Those termites will eat all the wood in your body!"
Now I'm friggin' hooked on the damn show.
I'm rooting for BJ and Tyler, the hippies. They just crack me up: "Dude, don't touch the termite mounds! Those termites will eat all the wood in your body!"
I scream
John listed his top ten ice cream flavors, so how can I not do the same?
10. Cookie dough. This is a good, reliable favorite. I wish the major manufacturers would include larger dough chunks.
9. Peanut butter cup. I don't get it as much as I used to, but I loved the rock-hard peanut butter swirl in the chocolate ice cream.
8. Pumpkin. Just great. As John notes, it just tastes like autumn.
7. Cookies-and-cream. Oreos and ice cream? Damn straight.
6. New York Brownie Super Fudge Chunk, by B&J. Totally amazing.
5. Heath Bar Crunch. The bigger the Heath Bar chunks, the better.
4. French Vanilla. In the late summertime, I love a couple of scoops of this with a mess of blueberries on top. It's also nice with chocolate or butterscotch syrup, or for use in a root beer float, or served with cake. But really, vanilla tastes wonderful on its own. The flavor of vanilla is anything but bland, folks.
3. Peppermint stick. A wonderful treat that's mainly available at the Holidays, sadly enough.
2. Mint chocolate chip. There can be some really disappointing versions of this. The best, usually, are not tinted green.
1. Coffee. In recent years, it's become a lot easier to find wonderful coffee ice creams, but my favorite will always be Haagen-Dasz, which is just sublime. I only have it once or twice per year, lest it become commonplace; this miracle substance was once the object of a midnight college road trip for myself and a few friends.
Here in Buffalo, spring is always welcomed by the opening of the roadside ice cream joints. These places always have cones and such with regular old hard ice cream, but I tend to always get a soft-serve delight, usually whatever the local euphemism is for the Dairy Queen Blizzard. I like a variety of them, but my favorite flavors therein are usually Reese's Pieces, Butterfinger, or Heath Bars.
Ice cream: Yeah, you could live without it. But what would be the point?
10. Cookie dough. This is a good, reliable favorite. I wish the major manufacturers would include larger dough chunks.
9. Peanut butter cup. I don't get it as much as I used to, but I loved the rock-hard peanut butter swirl in the chocolate ice cream.
8. Pumpkin. Just great. As John notes, it just tastes like autumn.
7. Cookies-and-cream. Oreos and ice cream? Damn straight.
6. New York Brownie Super Fudge Chunk, by B&J. Totally amazing.
5. Heath Bar Crunch. The bigger the Heath Bar chunks, the better.
4. French Vanilla. In the late summertime, I love a couple of scoops of this with a mess of blueberries on top. It's also nice with chocolate or butterscotch syrup, or for use in a root beer float, or served with cake. But really, vanilla tastes wonderful on its own. The flavor of vanilla is anything but bland, folks.
3. Peppermint stick. A wonderful treat that's mainly available at the Holidays, sadly enough.
2. Mint chocolate chip. There can be some really disappointing versions of this. The best, usually, are not tinted green.
1. Coffee. In recent years, it's become a lot easier to find wonderful coffee ice creams, but my favorite will always be Haagen-Dasz, which is just sublime. I only have it once or twice per year, lest it become commonplace; this miracle substance was once the object of a midnight college road trip for myself and a few friends.
Here in Buffalo, spring is always welcomed by the opening of the roadside ice cream joints. These places always have cones and such with regular old hard ice cream, but I tend to always get a soft-serve delight, usually whatever the local euphemism is for the Dairy Queen Blizzard. I like a variety of them, but my favorite flavors therein are usually Reese's Pieces, Butterfinger, or Heath Bars.
Ice cream: Yeah, you could live without it. But what would be the point?
We all have our little faults. Mine's in California.
The trailer to Superman Returns is really cool. I am really looking forward to this movie. (Oh, and Verbal Kint is a pussy. Kevin Spacey was born to play Lex Luthor.)
And in other movie geek news, Mr. Jones reports that in the Star Trek prequel movie (whose apparent premise I dissed a couple weeks ago), the role of James T. Kirk may be played by Ben Affleck.
Strangely, I'm not all that bothered by that casting, if it happens. Affleck seems to me to be the same kind of scenery-chewer that William Shatner was, although obviously Affleck will never compare to "the Shat" for sheer ham. I'm still more bothered by the idea of the movie itself: if they have to do more Star Trek, I'd rather it be new. But I'm still unenthusiastic about the idea that we need any more Star Trek at all.
And in other movie geek news, Mr. Jones reports that in the Star Trek prequel movie (whose apparent premise I dissed a couple weeks ago), the role of James T. Kirk may be played by Ben Affleck.
Strangely, I'm not all that bothered by that casting, if it happens. Affleck seems to me to be the same kind of scenery-chewer that William Shatner was, although obviously Affleck will never compare to "the Shat" for sheer ham. I'm still more bothered by the idea of the movie itself: if they have to do more Star Trek, I'd rather it be new. But I'm still unenthusiastic about the idea that we need any more Star Trek at all.
Walkin'
I just got in from a brisk afternoon walk around the neighborhood, which is something that used to be an integral part of my life but fell by the wayside during Little Quinn's lifetime. The trees are starting to leaf out in earnest; people are getting home from work and going out to do stuff in their yards; and kids everywhere are setting up in the street to play pick-up games of...hockey.
Sabres fever, baby!
Sabres fever, baby!
Monday, May 01, 2006
I'll take door number three, Monty
For some reason, The Daughter's taken a liking to this NBC game show Deal or No Deal. If you haven't seen this show, it's about the simplest premise I've ever seen for a game show. You know those really brief pricing games on The Price is Right, where you're offered two items and all you have to do is put the displayed price on the right item? That's about the level of sophistication with Deal or No Deal. There is no trivia quiz, and no real approach one can take to playing this game aside from playing odds once the "endgame" comes around. It's a pure guessing game.
Basically, Deal or No Deal has a bunch of numbered briefcases, each one of which contains some amount of money from $.01 up to $1,000,000. A contestant picks one of these cases to be "her case", and then picks out other cases to be opened and the contents revealed. As the dollar amounts are revealed, they are "removed from play", and periodically, as the number of "amounts in play" diminish, a person called "the banker" calls down to the stage with an offer of money to "buy back the contestant's case". The idea, then, is to get the banker to pay a lot of money for a case that hopefully doesn't contain much money at all. (If one plays all the way to the end, one gets whatever is in the original case. That hasn't happened yet.) When the Banker makes an offer, the contestant can either accept it, ending the game, or play on, opening more cases in hopes of picking the small amounts of money and driving up the future offers. At first, one has to open five or six cases without getting an offer, but as the game goes on, the offers start to come after every case.
Got all that?
The game is pure, one-hundred percent guesswork and gambling. There are no hints given as to which case may contain the million dollars. As a game show, the game is so inherently uninteresting that the show would be painfully dull to watch if not for the "human factor". You really get a good sense for how people talk themselves into believing what they want to believe, for how they insist on applying logic to situations in which they have almost no facts on which to base their beliefs, and more than a lot of plain old superstition. As the game gets more intense, the stakes rise; and when confronted with five cases from which to choose, the contestants will often say things like "My first child is twelve years old this week, so I'll open case number twelve!"
There's some kind of psychological insight to find in shows like this. I'm not sure what it is, but it's there.
Basically, Deal or No Deal has a bunch of numbered briefcases, each one of which contains some amount of money from $.01 up to $1,000,000. A contestant picks one of these cases to be "her case", and then picks out other cases to be opened and the contents revealed. As the dollar amounts are revealed, they are "removed from play", and periodically, as the number of "amounts in play" diminish, a person called "the banker" calls down to the stage with an offer of money to "buy back the contestant's case". The idea, then, is to get the banker to pay a lot of money for a case that hopefully doesn't contain much money at all. (If one plays all the way to the end, one gets whatever is in the original case. That hasn't happened yet.) When the Banker makes an offer, the contestant can either accept it, ending the game, or play on, opening more cases in hopes of picking the small amounts of money and driving up the future offers. At first, one has to open five or six cases without getting an offer, but as the game goes on, the offers start to come after every case.
Got all that?
The game is pure, one-hundred percent guesswork and gambling. There are no hints given as to which case may contain the million dollars. As a game show, the game is so inherently uninteresting that the show would be painfully dull to watch if not for the "human factor". You really get a good sense for how people talk themselves into believing what they want to believe, for how they insist on applying logic to situations in which they have almost no facts on which to base their beliefs, and more than a lot of plain old superstition. As the game gets more intense, the stakes rise; and when confronted with five cases from which to choose, the contestants will often say things like "My first child is twelve years old this week, so I'll open case number twelve!"
There's some kind of psychological insight to find in shows like this. I'm not sure what it is, but it's there.
That bwethed awwangement, that dweam within a dweam....
Dave Thomas of Britain got himself married. Congrats to him, and a hearty "Heh!" to his new wife, whom we can only assume has not seen Dave's DVD collection. Won't she be surprised at what Dave picks out when she says, "Gee, dear, I think I'm in the mood to just stay in and watch a movie tonight"!
Looking over the photos, I'm struck by the cuteness of his bride, the fact that Dave didn't have some kind of "Space Vampire Ninja" theme wedding, and the fact that Dave's father looks exactly the way I always envisioned Dave himself looking in all those years on Usenet.
Looking over the photos, I'm struck by the cuteness of his bride, the fact that Dave didn't have some kind of "Space Vampire Ninja" theme wedding, and the fact that Dave's father looks exactly the way I always envisioned Dave himself looking in all those years on Usenet.
How many oncoming trains are IN this tunnel, anyway?
At some point, you have to note the number of times we've turned the corner and wonder if we're not actually traveling in circles.
Mary in the sky, with diamonds....
Geez...this isn't going to do anything but set a bad precedent, and open up a big ole can o' worms. But BuffaloGeek closes out this post with a request, and apropos of this post of Alan's, may I present the cover to Sgt. Kunz's Lame Columnists' Club Band:
(It's a Buffalo thing, folks.)
(It's a Buffalo thing, folks.)
Sentential Links #48
As per usual, click for context:
:: As things stand now, this nation may finally have one of the worst epitaphs in history: They lost their liberty -- and they didn't even know it.
:: "Is this paint?", I ask accusingly. (Remember the great line by Fox Mulder, when told that he'd just dipped his hand in bile: "Is there any way I can get it off my fingers quickly without betraying my cool exterior?")
:: Having such small apartments, city residents want to make the most of the space that they have. In designing a loft apartment for his son, architect Kyu Sung Woo came up with an interesting solution to the space problem...he fit two stories into a one-story apartment. (Wow! Follow a few links here, folks. Cool.)
:: I love to watch the future take shape.
:: No, Christie is not staying popular due to some intrinsic quality, but by massive and well-managed reinvention.
:: This is what happened on my birthday last year: I got dumped before 9 a.m.
:: Rowing has specialized clothing as well, and it also combines fashion and function.
:: Alongside executives and officials, I toured the shiney, empty plant (workers stood in their work positions as we passed by) and applauded as ribbons were cut. Then I followed the first pigs through the slaughtering process.
All for this week, folks. Thank you for playing, and remember, there are no losers on "Sentential Links"!
UPDATE: Oops, forgot one: As far as I’m concerned, you’re at least as American as I am.. Amen to that.
:: As things stand now, this nation may finally have one of the worst epitaphs in history: They lost their liberty -- and they didn't even know it.
:: "Is this paint?", I ask accusingly. (Remember the great line by Fox Mulder, when told that he'd just dipped his hand in bile: "Is there any way I can get it off my fingers quickly without betraying my cool exterior?")
:: Having such small apartments, city residents want to make the most of the space that they have. In designing a loft apartment for his son, architect Kyu Sung Woo came up with an interesting solution to the space problem...he fit two stories into a one-story apartment. (Wow! Follow a few links here, folks. Cool.)
:: I love to watch the future take shape.
:: No, Christie is not staying popular due to some intrinsic quality, but by massive and well-managed reinvention.
:: This is what happened on my birthday last year: I got dumped before 9 a.m.
:: Rowing has specialized clothing as well, and it also combines fashion and function.
:: Alongside executives and officials, I toured the shiney, empty plant (workers stood in their work positions as we passed by) and applauded as ribbons were cut. Then I followed the first pigs through the slaughtering process.
All for this week, folks. Thank you for playing, and remember, there are no losers on "Sentential Links"!
UPDATE: Oops, forgot one: As far as I’m concerned, you’re at least as American as I am.. Amen to that.
To the Stars, take two
I've updated yesterday's post about space opera books with some more titles suggested by readers. And I'm still soliciting, folks!
Sunday, April 30, 2006
Tough on Terror
You know, folks, when Bill Clinton had a shot at Osama Bin Laden, he may have missed, but at least he pulled the trigger. That's more than George Bush did when he had a shot at Abu Musab Zarqawi.
Yeah, that Bush is really tough on terror, all right.
Yeah, that Bush is really tough on terror, all right.
Sunday Burst of Weirdness Greatness
Not a whole lot of weirdness this week, but even though everyone's already linking it, here's Part One of Stephen Colbert's brilliant performance at the Correspondents' Dinner in Washington, DC; and here is Part Two. What's great about Colbert and Jon Stewart is that they're big enough that the politicos who know they shouldn't go within ten miles of them instead can't afford to pretend they don't exist.
And boy, has the Correspondents Dinner come a long way since Don Imus's disastrous performance a decade ago.
And boy, has the Correspondents Dinner come a long way since Don Imus's disastrous performance a decade ago.
Everyone to aft! The Captain's gone daft about the draft! Quick, to a raft!
OK, I guess I gotta talk about the NFL Draft, since I'm a Bills fan and all. First off, drafting's an inexact science and you never know which players are gonna be stars and which players are gonna tank and yada yada yada. William Goldman wrote that Hollywood's golden rule is "Nobody knows anything", but that could also apply to the NFL on Draft Day. The Bills weren't stupid to draft Mike Williams in the first round, and the StuPats* weren't geniuses to draft Tom Brady in the sixth. Nobody knows anything.
So why am I having trouble figuring out what Marv Levy's doing?
I have no problem with the Bills not picking Matt Leinart. I really don't. It couldn't be an attractive possibility to Levy to use a first round pick on a quarterback for what would have been the fourth time in ten years, especially when the team has so many holes in other places. That, actually, is part of what's bothering me: this team has so many holes that what's really needed is an addition of as much talent as humanly possible. We're talking large numbers of raw bodies, and then let's see who sticks. So, when Levy had four picks to use in the first three rounds, along came a still-available Leinart and an opportunity to get even more picks. Instead, Levy used the pick on a safety -- which, while yes we need one, isn't nearly the major point of concern for this team.
So I, an armchair quarterbacking watch-it-on-TV-on-Sunday-afternoon fan, wanted to see those four picks used on two offensive linemen and two defensive linemen. Marv Levy, on the other hand, used one of those picks to trade up into the second round again, and thus used only three picks to take a safety, a defensive lineman, and a cornerback. Uhhhh...OK.
Maybe these guys turn out to be great. I don't know. Not too many of Tom Donahoe's picks panned out, and nor, frankly, did many of John Butler's picks in his latter years here. But Levy always had a different view on personnel: he always looked for character and intelligence and raw athletic ability, players who could develop rather than start right now, and that appears to be what he's doing now that he's a GM. I'm willing to give him partial benefit of the doubt on the players he chose, but I'm less convinced about the manner in which he chose them. The best argument that I've seen is that Levy (and his assistants) came into this draft knowing, for the most part, which players they really wanted to get, and they paid the prices they needed to pay to ensure that they got them. If that's the case, then these guys had better pan out.
And I should note that I'm distinctly unhappy that the Bills didn't take an offensive lineman until the fifth round, and as of this writing, they've only taken that one OL player. I'd really hoped that OL would be a more pressing concern, given how stunningly bad the line has been the last few years. Maybe they're convinced that the cast-off free agents they've signed will pan out, but it's worth remembering that this is a team that closed out last season with zero starting offensive linemen who'd been drafted here. Free agency hasn't changed everything, folks -- the draft is still the main means of upgrading the level of talent on an NFL team over time.
Again, none of this is remotely exact. The Bills' biggest draft bust of all time, Mike Williams, was taken fourth overall in the first round. One of the Bills' best offensive linemen ever, Howard Ballard, was taken in the twelfth round, back when the draft had twelve rounds. Today, Ballard would be an undrafted free agent. But you can't develop the linemen if you only draft one or two per year.
* For newer readers, the word "StuPats" is an abbreviation of "New England Stupid Patriots". Because the NFL team from New England has, for the last five years, been the focus of Ultimate Evil in the sports world.
So why am I having trouble figuring out what Marv Levy's doing?
I have no problem with the Bills not picking Matt Leinart. I really don't. It couldn't be an attractive possibility to Levy to use a first round pick on a quarterback for what would have been the fourth time in ten years, especially when the team has so many holes in other places. That, actually, is part of what's bothering me: this team has so many holes that what's really needed is an addition of as much talent as humanly possible. We're talking large numbers of raw bodies, and then let's see who sticks. So, when Levy had four picks to use in the first three rounds, along came a still-available Leinart and an opportunity to get even more picks. Instead, Levy used the pick on a safety -- which, while yes we need one, isn't nearly the major point of concern for this team.
So I, an armchair quarterbacking watch-it-on-TV-on-Sunday-afternoon fan, wanted to see those four picks used on two offensive linemen and two defensive linemen. Marv Levy, on the other hand, used one of those picks to trade up into the second round again, and thus used only three picks to take a safety, a defensive lineman, and a cornerback. Uhhhh...OK.
Maybe these guys turn out to be great. I don't know. Not too many of Tom Donahoe's picks panned out, and nor, frankly, did many of John Butler's picks in his latter years here. But Levy always had a different view on personnel: he always looked for character and intelligence and raw athletic ability, players who could develop rather than start right now, and that appears to be what he's doing now that he's a GM. I'm willing to give him partial benefit of the doubt on the players he chose, but I'm less convinced about the manner in which he chose them. The best argument that I've seen is that Levy (and his assistants) came into this draft knowing, for the most part, which players they really wanted to get, and they paid the prices they needed to pay to ensure that they got them. If that's the case, then these guys had better pan out.
And I should note that I'm distinctly unhappy that the Bills didn't take an offensive lineman until the fifth round, and as of this writing, they've only taken that one OL player. I'd really hoped that OL would be a more pressing concern, given how stunningly bad the line has been the last few years. Maybe they're convinced that the cast-off free agents they've signed will pan out, but it's worth remembering that this is a team that closed out last season with zero starting offensive linemen who'd been drafted here. Free agency hasn't changed everything, folks -- the draft is still the main means of upgrading the level of talent on an NFL team over time.
Again, none of this is remotely exact. The Bills' biggest draft bust of all time, Mike Williams, was taken fourth overall in the first round. One of the Bills' best offensive linemen ever, Howard Ballard, was taken in the twelfth round, back when the draft had twelve rounds. Today, Ballard would be an undrafted free agent. But you can't develop the linemen if you only draft one or two per year.
* For newer readers, the word "StuPats" is an abbreviation of "New England Stupid Patriots". Because the NFL team from New England has, for the last five years, been the focus of Ultimate Evil in the sports world.
Into the Depths of the Stars!
I've made the decision, based on lots of soul-searching and careful consideration...ach, who am I kidding? It's basically a whim. But I want to become the world's preeminent expert on space opera. Now, I know, this is a goal that will take years to achieve and will neither yield riches nor fame, but it'll make me Lord Emperor of All Geeks (Space opera Division). And really, who could want more than that?
What brought this on, you ask? (Ach, who am I kidding -- nobody's asking that.) But anyway, it's a pretty obvious interest, since I'm one of the most faithful worshippers at the Church of Lucas. Space opera has always been my preferred SF subgenre, the bigger and vaster the better. And really: since mid-May of last year, life has seemed a tad directionless and unfocused. (Don't take my word for it.) So in a way, I'm going to try to scratch an itch that won't ever be scratched in the same way again. Or something like that. (Hey, it's a whim, and whims are pretty hazy things. Who sits and thinks out a whim, anyway?)
I'm also seeking to give myself a broader background in space opera tropes, because after I finish The Promised King* I want to turn to a tale that's been sitting in my head gestating for a few years now. I posted a kernel of this tale before; you can read it here, although I'm not at all certain how much of that little excerpt will remain when I get back to that story. Suffice it to say that stories of war and romance on a Galactic scale appeal to me; and if I had to name the single best piece of writing advice I've ever heard, it would be "Write the books you want to read."
So, where to begin? Well, I'm not sure where exactly I'll start. But I'm in the beginning of amassing a collection of space opera books. These I have already, in no particular order:
:: The Lensmen novels, by E.E. "Doc" Smith. I read Triplanetary a few years ago and enjoyed it, but still have yet to read the rest of this series. My understanding is that Triplanetary wasn't actually the first of the Lensmen tales.
:: The Skylark of Space, also by Doc Smith. Hey, you gotta inspect the roots of the genre, right? This book came out in 1928.
:: Brian Daley: Requiem for a Ruler of Worlds, Jinx on a Terran Inheritance, Fall of the White Ship Avatar. I remember Will Duquette recommending these a while back. I remember reading some of Daley's media tie-in novels as a kid, but never any of his own work.
:: Kevin J. Anderson's Saga of Seven Suns. This series is still "in progress", with three more volumes to go, apparently. The first book is kind of weak, being chapter after chapter after chapter of exposition; also, Smith's tendency to throw in cute allusions gets a little off-putting at times. But things improve quite a bit in the second book. I wouldn't recommend splurging on this series in hardcover, but they're fun in softcover. Anderson's really got a gift for conveying nifty visuals in descriptive prose, like the diamond-hulled warships of the Hydrogues.
:: Debra Doyle and James MacDonald's Mageworlds series. I've got The Price of the Stars, Starpilot's Grave, and By Honor Betray'd, which constitute the main Mageworlds trilogy, as well as a prequel novel called The Gathering Flame. I read Price of the Stars four or five years ago and thought it was just "Star Wars lite", but enough folks have spoken well of the series since then that I suspect I may have judged it unfairly. It happens, folks -- I wish I had a dime for every piece of classical music I hated the first time I listened to it. Heck, I hated Berlioz the first time I heard him.
:: The Liaden Universe novels by Sharon Lee and Steve Miller. I've read the first three of these and enjoyed them, although they didn't feel all that "space opera-ish" to me -- more like romances set in space. But as fans of SF and fantasy well know, these genres and their little subgenres tend to stubbornly resist easy categorization.
:: Primary Inversion and The Radiant Seas by Catherine Asaro. I read Primary Inversion a few years back as well, but I don't remember much about it. These are the first two books in a larger series called "The Saga of the Skolian Empire". Well, that's gotta be good, right? It's got the words "Saga" and "Empire" in it.
:: Downbelow Station and The Faded Sun Trilogy by C.J. Cherryh. These are apparently set in "the Alliance-Union Universe". Strange as it may seem, I have never read anything by Cherryh before.
:: Star Soldiers by Andre Norton. Equally strange, I don't recall ever reading Norton before, either. What the hell have I been doing?!
:: Excession, by Iain M. Banks. This is one of Banks's "Culture" novels. I started The Player of Games a while back, but never finished it for some reason. Perhaps someone can tell me if Excession is a good entry point into the "Culture" books, or if I should dig back farther. My understanding is that they're all standalone novels, but that doesn't mean that one book isn't a better intro than another.
:: A Thousand Words for Stranger and Ties of Power, by Julie E. Czerneda. The first two books in Czerneda's "Trade Pact Universe". I liked Thousand Words a lot when I read it a few years back. In honesty, I completely forgot I had the second book in this series until I went through the shelves just now.
:: The Duke of Uranium and A Princess of the Aerie by John Barnes. Read the first and liked it a lot; never got around to the second. If there were any justice, "Toktru" would be as well-known a word in SF fandom as "Fnord!"
:: Hyperion, by Dan Simmons. Another one I started but didn't finish. In truth, I do this a lot. I'll be reading along, and get to about fifty or so pages in and just kind of say to myself, "Hmmmm, this really isn't what I'm in the mood to read right now." It's kind of a capricious reading life, I'll admit, but I think the upside is that I think I'm more fair to books when I come to them when I want to rather than forcing myself through them when I don't, if that makes sense. (I was clearly reading this last summertime, because I discovered that I'd been marking my place with an old grocery list. Charcoal, beer, and Italian sausage topped the list. Oh, and a can of infant formula. Weird, the reminders that await us in the tall grass....)
:: Sunrunner and Startide Rising, by David Brin. Everybody says that the first Uplift trilogy is amazing, the second one less so. Guess I'll find out eventually. I'm still mad at Brin for saying mean things about Star Wars a few years back, but I'll try to be nice to his books.
:: Metaplanetary, by Tony Daniel. Not sure if this is space opera or just hard SF, but I just found it on my shelves. I don't remember buying it, even. Anyone?
:: Jaran, by Kate Elliott. I don't know squat about this one, save that the back cover refers to a mix of "interstellar empires and primitive cultures". That works.
:: Lord Valentine's Castle, by Robert Silverberg. I'm honestly not sure this counts as space opera; the cover copy reads more like a blend of SF and fantasy. But again, the pesky dividing line between space opera and something else is always fungible. Onto the stack it goes.
:: Revelation Space by Alastair Reynolds. First book in a franchise of sorts. I love this book's cover art -- simple, intriguing, and evocative.
:: In Conquest Born, by C.S. Friedman. I just bought this last week. I'd heard of Friedman, but knew nothing of her work. The cover has a guy on a starship, holding a sword. Yup!
:: Deathstalker, by Simon R. Green. Someone told me that this series probably went on two or even three books too long. This was another casualty of the "Hmmm, not really in the mood for this" malaise that sends me to the shelves for something else. Still, I absolutely adore that opening passage.
:: Pandora's Star, by Peter F. Hamilton. Ahhhh, Hamilton. Tried him once before and didn't make it -- but not for the usual reasons. His Night's Dawn Trilogy was so massive that when the books were issued in paperback, each volume had to be split in two. We're talking a massive series here, folks. Well, I loved the first half of The Reality Dysfunction (the first book), but something went awry with the second half: my copy of it literally fell apart, some months after I had bought it. Bad glue, or what, I don't recall. I never got around to replacing it. Anyway, I bought Pandora's Star a few weeks ago.
:: Dread Empire's Fall, by Walter Jon Williams. Trilogy about a fallen interstellar empire. Check.
:: Singularity Sky and Iron Sunrise, by Charles Stross. I don't know why, but I always feel stupid when I read Stross. Kind of like that episode of Friends when Joey, tired of feeling left out in conversations, buys a single volume of an encyclopedia (because that's all he can afford), and thus keeps trying to steer the conversations to topics that start with the letter 'V'. I haven't read any of Stross's novels, but his short fiction is so idea-packed that I may need to decompress after reading his novels.
:: A Fire Upon the Deep and A Deepness in the Sky, by Vernor Vinge. I liked Fire, although I don't think I understood the ending all that well. Still haven't attemped Deepness.
These are works that I do not own yet but plan to acquire:
:: Scott Westerfeld's Risen Empire duology. I checked the first half out of the library and loved it. Why didn't I read the second half, then? Because I'm forgetful as hell, that's why. Hence this list.
:: Timothy Zahn. Pretty much anything. I owned his "Conquerors Trilogy", but lost it in the last move. He's fairly prolific, too.
:: David Zindell's Neverness and Requiem for Homo Sapiens trilogy. Never heard of Zindell until last night. Anyone?
:: The Book of Skaith, The Coming of the Terrans, and The Starmen of Llyrdis, by Leigh Brackett. I read her Sword of Rhiannon a while back, and once I aligned my reading-mind with the fact that Brackett had been writing with a 1950s author's knowledge of the planet Mars, I found it a highly entertaining read. There was a reason that George Lucas brought in Leigh Brackett to take the first whack at a script for The Empire Strikes Back, and her reputation as a writer of space opera was that reason.
OK, that's what I either own or plan to get in the near future. However, I know that this list isn't close to being exhaustive. So, what say you, readers? What space operas am I missing here? I'd be especially interested in comics, and in those terms, I'd like to focus specifically space operas, and preferably closed series that have actual endings. There are times when lots of comics titles delve into space opera -- the famous Dark Phoenix saga from The Uncanny X-Men, frex -- but unless the tale has a specific ending point, I'm not really looking for "Well, Superman often has some space opera stuff in it". (BTW, the series Six from Sirius, from which my Net handle "Jaquandor" is taken, is pure space opera!)
I'm also keenly interested in older SF authors, long out-of-print, who worked in the space opera form. Aside from Leigh Brackett and Doc Smith, I'm fairly ignorant of space opera as a literary subgenre before Star Wars came along, and we're talking about roughly fifty years of space opera goodness. So let me know about those, as well.
This is obviously something of a long-term thing that I'm putting in motion here. Looking at the stacks of books I've just created next to my computer table, I've got enough space opera goodness to keep me busy for a few years at least, and I've no intention of foregoing my other interests along the way -- horror and fantasy will still abound.
But space opera? That's where I want to be!
* I've started working again on The Promised King in the last week, and I'm hoping to start serializing Book II: The Finest Deed either later this summer or in early fall. I'll keep everyone posted.
UPDATE 5-1-01: Readers have suggested the following series and/or books, either in e-mail or in comments:
:: Dune, by Frank Herbert. I own the first one and started reading it once. I stopped a ways in because I frankly got tired of Herbert's constant use of his own made-up vocabulary. Usually this doesn't bother me much when authors do it, but Herbert had me flipping to the glossary every other sentence, or so it felt. Not sure if this is "space opera", really -- how much of it involves, well, "space"? Someone who's read it, let me know. Also cited are Herbert's The Whipping Star and Dosadi Experiment. I've never even heard of these, but I'll seek them out eventually.
:: David Webber's Honor Harrington series. I've read the first two books, and I enjoyed them. They're space opera to an extent, although most readers would more consider them "Military SF". I like the Honor Harrington character, but I've heard that farther on in the series, Honor's seeming perfection gets more and more grating; I'm also told that Webber's infodumps get more and more intrusive and cloying. That would be something to see, since in the very first book, Webber completely stops the action just as the climactic battle/chase is starting to heat up, so he can go into a lengthy explanation of the history of supralight drive in his universe. I'm not sure how much more Honor Harrington I really want to read.
Military SF, generally, isn't my cup of tea. Admittedly, it's hard to find the dividing line between space opera and Mil-SF. My own way of determining the difference has a flaw or two, but so far it seems to have worked. I've never been much of a Robert A. Heinlein fan, but it's been years since I tried reading him.
:: Lois McMaster Bujold's Miles Vorkosigan books. Yup. I've read the first three. Pretty fun stuff thus far.
:: C.J. Cherryh's Chanur books. Never heard of them. I'll look them up.
:: Gordon R. Dickson's Dorsai series. My familiarity with these extends about as far as the fact that I know they exist. I'll have to check them out.
:: The Hitchhiker's Guide series by Douglas Adams. Strangely, I've never read these.
Keep the recommendations coming, folks -- I'm looking for all the space opera that can be read in a lifetime!
What brought this on, you ask? (Ach, who am I kidding -- nobody's asking that.) But anyway, it's a pretty obvious interest, since I'm one of the most faithful worshippers at the Church of Lucas. Space opera has always been my preferred SF subgenre, the bigger and vaster the better. And really: since mid-May of last year, life has seemed a tad directionless and unfocused. (Don't take my word for it.) So in a way, I'm going to try to scratch an itch that won't ever be scratched in the same way again. Or something like that. (Hey, it's a whim, and whims are pretty hazy things. Who sits and thinks out a whim, anyway?)
I'm also seeking to give myself a broader background in space opera tropes, because after I finish The Promised King* I want to turn to a tale that's been sitting in my head gestating for a few years now. I posted a kernel of this tale before; you can read it here, although I'm not at all certain how much of that little excerpt will remain when I get back to that story. Suffice it to say that stories of war and romance on a Galactic scale appeal to me; and if I had to name the single best piece of writing advice I've ever heard, it would be "Write the books you want to read."
So, where to begin? Well, I'm not sure where exactly I'll start. But I'm in the beginning of amassing a collection of space opera books. These I have already, in no particular order:
:: The Lensmen novels, by E.E. "Doc" Smith. I read Triplanetary a few years ago and enjoyed it, but still have yet to read the rest of this series. My understanding is that Triplanetary wasn't actually the first of the Lensmen tales.
:: The Skylark of Space, also by Doc Smith. Hey, you gotta inspect the roots of the genre, right? This book came out in 1928.
:: Brian Daley: Requiem for a Ruler of Worlds, Jinx on a Terran Inheritance, Fall of the White Ship Avatar. I remember Will Duquette recommending these a while back. I remember reading some of Daley's media tie-in novels as a kid, but never any of his own work.
:: Kevin J. Anderson's Saga of Seven Suns. This series is still "in progress", with three more volumes to go, apparently. The first book is kind of weak, being chapter after chapter after chapter of exposition; also, Smith's tendency to throw in cute allusions gets a little off-putting at times. But things improve quite a bit in the second book. I wouldn't recommend splurging on this series in hardcover, but they're fun in softcover. Anderson's really got a gift for conveying nifty visuals in descriptive prose, like the diamond-hulled warships of the Hydrogues.
:: Debra Doyle and James MacDonald's Mageworlds series. I've got The Price of the Stars, Starpilot's Grave, and By Honor Betray'd, which constitute the main Mageworlds trilogy, as well as a prequel novel called The Gathering Flame. I read Price of the Stars four or five years ago and thought it was just "Star Wars lite", but enough folks have spoken well of the series since then that I suspect I may have judged it unfairly. It happens, folks -- I wish I had a dime for every piece of classical music I hated the first time I listened to it. Heck, I hated Berlioz the first time I heard him.
:: The Liaden Universe novels by Sharon Lee and Steve Miller. I've read the first three of these and enjoyed them, although they didn't feel all that "space opera-ish" to me -- more like romances set in space. But as fans of SF and fantasy well know, these genres and their little subgenres tend to stubbornly resist easy categorization.
:: Primary Inversion and The Radiant Seas by Catherine Asaro. I read Primary Inversion a few years back as well, but I don't remember much about it. These are the first two books in a larger series called "The Saga of the Skolian Empire". Well, that's gotta be good, right? It's got the words "Saga" and "Empire" in it.
:: Downbelow Station and The Faded Sun Trilogy by C.J. Cherryh. These are apparently set in "the Alliance-Union Universe". Strange as it may seem, I have never read anything by Cherryh before.
:: Star Soldiers by Andre Norton. Equally strange, I don't recall ever reading Norton before, either. What the hell have I been doing?!
:: Excession, by Iain M. Banks. This is one of Banks's "Culture" novels. I started The Player of Games a while back, but never finished it for some reason. Perhaps someone can tell me if Excession is a good entry point into the "Culture" books, or if I should dig back farther. My understanding is that they're all standalone novels, but that doesn't mean that one book isn't a better intro than another.
:: A Thousand Words for Stranger and Ties of Power, by Julie E. Czerneda. The first two books in Czerneda's "Trade Pact Universe". I liked Thousand Words a lot when I read it a few years back. In honesty, I completely forgot I had the second book in this series until I went through the shelves just now.
:: The Duke of Uranium and A Princess of the Aerie by John Barnes. Read the first and liked it a lot; never got around to the second. If there were any justice, "Toktru" would be as well-known a word in SF fandom as "Fnord!"
:: Hyperion, by Dan Simmons. Another one I started but didn't finish. In truth, I do this a lot. I'll be reading along, and get to about fifty or so pages in and just kind of say to myself, "Hmmmm, this really isn't what I'm in the mood to read right now." It's kind of a capricious reading life, I'll admit, but I think the upside is that I think I'm more fair to books when I come to them when I want to rather than forcing myself through them when I don't, if that makes sense. (I was clearly reading this last summertime, because I discovered that I'd been marking my place with an old grocery list. Charcoal, beer, and Italian sausage topped the list. Oh, and a can of infant formula. Weird, the reminders that await us in the tall grass....)
:: Sunrunner and Startide Rising, by David Brin. Everybody says that the first Uplift trilogy is amazing, the second one less so. Guess I'll find out eventually. I'm still mad at Brin for saying mean things about Star Wars a few years back, but I'll try to be nice to his books.
:: Metaplanetary, by Tony Daniel. Not sure if this is space opera or just hard SF, but I just found it on my shelves. I don't remember buying it, even. Anyone?
:: Jaran, by Kate Elliott. I don't know squat about this one, save that the back cover refers to a mix of "interstellar empires and primitive cultures". That works.
:: Lord Valentine's Castle, by Robert Silverberg. I'm honestly not sure this counts as space opera; the cover copy reads more like a blend of SF and fantasy. But again, the pesky dividing line between space opera and something else is always fungible. Onto the stack it goes.
:: Revelation Space by Alastair Reynolds. First book in a franchise of sorts. I love this book's cover art -- simple, intriguing, and evocative.
:: In Conquest Born, by C.S. Friedman. I just bought this last week. I'd heard of Friedman, but knew nothing of her work. The cover has a guy on a starship, holding a sword. Yup!
:: Deathstalker, by Simon R. Green. Someone told me that this series probably went on two or even three books too long. This was another casualty of the "Hmmm, not really in the mood for this" malaise that sends me to the shelves for something else. Still, I absolutely adore that opening passage.
:: Pandora's Star, by Peter F. Hamilton. Ahhhh, Hamilton. Tried him once before and didn't make it -- but not for the usual reasons. His Night's Dawn Trilogy was so massive that when the books were issued in paperback, each volume had to be split in two. We're talking a massive series here, folks. Well, I loved the first half of The Reality Dysfunction (the first book), but something went awry with the second half: my copy of it literally fell apart, some months after I had bought it. Bad glue, or what, I don't recall. I never got around to replacing it. Anyway, I bought Pandora's Star a few weeks ago.
:: Dread Empire's Fall, by Walter Jon Williams. Trilogy about a fallen interstellar empire. Check.
:: Singularity Sky and Iron Sunrise, by Charles Stross. I don't know why, but I always feel stupid when I read Stross. Kind of like that episode of Friends when Joey, tired of feeling left out in conversations, buys a single volume of an encyclopedia (because that's all he can afford), and thus keeps trying to steer the conversations to topics that start with the letter 'V'. I haven't read any of Stross's novels, but his short fiction is so idea-packed that I may need to decompress after reading his novels.
:: A Fire Upon the Deep and A Deepness in the Sky, by Vernor Vinge. I liked Fire, although I don't think I understood the ending all that well. Still haven't attemped Deepness.
These are works that I do not own yet but plan to acquire:
:: Scott Westerfeld's Risen Empire duology. I checked the first half out of the library and loved it. Why didn't I read the second half, then? Because I'm forgetful as hell, that's why. Hence this list.
:: Timothy Zahn. Pretty much anything. I owned his "Conquerors Trilogy", but lost it in the last move. He's fairly prolific, too.
:: David Zindell's Neverness and Requiem for Homo Sapiens trilogy. Never heard of Zindell until last night. Anyone?
:: The Book of Skaith, The Coming of the Terrans, and The Starmen of Llyrdis, by Leigh Brackett. I read her Sword of Rhiannon a while back, and once I aligned my reading-mind with the fact that Brackett had been writing with a 1950s author's knowledge of the planet Mars, I found it a highly entertaining read. There was a reason that George Lucas brought in Leigh Brackett to take the first whack at a script for The Empire Strikes Back, and her reputation as a writer of space opera was that reason.
OK, that's what I either own or plan to get in the near future. However, I know that this list isn't close to being exhaustive. So, what say you, readers? What space operas am I missing here? I'd be especially interested in comics, and in those terms, I'd like to focus specifically space operas, and preferably closed series that have actual endings. There are times when lots of comics titles delve into space opera -- the famous Dark Phoenix saga from The Uncanny X-Men, frex -- but unless the tale has a specific ending point, I'm not really looking for "Well, Superman often has some space opera stuff in it". (BTW, the series Six from Sirius, from which my Net handle "Jaquandor" is taken, is pure space opera!)
I'm also keenly interested in older SF authors, long out-of-print, who worked in the space opera form. Aside from Leigh Brackett and Doc Smith, I'm fairly ignorant of space opera as a literary subgenre before Star Wars came along, and we're talking about roughly fifty years of space opera goodness. So let me know about those, as well.
This is obviously something of a long-term thing that I'm putting in motion here. Looking at the stacks of books I've just created next to my computer table, I've got enough space opera goodness to keep me busy for a few years at least, and I've no intention of foregoing my other interests along the way -- horror and fantasy will still abound.
But space opera? That's where I want to be!
* I've started working again on The Promised King in the last week, and I'm hoping to start serializing Book II: The Finest Deed either later this summer or in early fall. I'll keep everyone posted.
UPDATE 5-1-01: Readers have suggested the following series and/or books, either in e-mail or in comments:
:: Dune, by Frank Herbert. I own the first one and started reading it once. I stopped a ways in because I frankly got tired of Herbert's constant use of his own made-up vocabulary. Usually this doesn't bother me much when authors do it, but Herbert had me flipping to the glossary every other sentence, or so it felt. Not sure if this is "space opera", really -- how much of it involves, well, "space"? Someone who's read it, let me know. Also cited are Herbert's The Whipping Star and Dosadi Experiment. I've never even heard of these, but I'll seek them out eventually.
:: David Webber's Honor Harrington series. I've read the first two books, and I enjoyed them. They're space opera to an extent, although most readers would more consider them "Military SF". I like the Honor Harrington character, but I've heard that farther on in the series, Honor's seeming perfection gets more and more grating; I'm also told that Webber's infodumps get more and more intrusive and cloying. That would be something to see, since in the very first book, Webber completely stops the action just as the climactic battle/chase is starting to heat up, so he can go into a lengthy explanation of the history of supralight drive in his universe. I'm not sure how much more Honor Harrington I really want to read.
Military SF, generally, isn't my cup of tea. Admittedly, it's hard to find the dividing line between space opera and Mil-SF. My own way of determining the difference has a flaw or two, but so far it seems to have worked. I've never been much of a Robert A. Heinlein fan, but it's been years since I tried reading him.
:: Lois McMaster Bujold's Miles Vorkosigan books. Yup. I've read the first three. Pretty fun stuff thus far.
:: C.J. Cherryh's Chanur books. Never heard of them. I'll look them up.
:: Gordon R. Dickson's Dorsai series. My familiarity with these extends about as far as the fact that I know they exist. I'll have to check them out.
:: The Hitchhiker's Guide series by Douglas Adams. Strangely, I've never read these.
Keep the recommendations coming, folks -- I'm looking for all the space opera that can be read in a lifetime!
There's a tear in my beer....
I'll have time a little later on to flesh out my thoughts on how the Buffalo Bills fared in yesterday's NFL draft, but for now, here's a sound clip that I suspect will be getting lots of play next season in these parts.
Saturday, April 29, 2006
Scriptin'
Eagle-eyed readers may notice that I'm now only featuring one "headshot" of Yours Truly in the sidebar; readers with the eyes of, well, birds with better eyes than eagles may notice that the headshots change with each page load! This is courtesy of this handy script for rotating images. I love the Interweb!
Pour me another draft!
I'm just going to throw this up here for reference, when I post again tomorrow to bitch about the Buffalo Bills' draft selections. Anyhow, today will see Rounds One through Three of the Draft. The Bills have four picks in those rounds (with two picks in the third round, by virtue of last year's trade of Travis Henry to the Titans). If the Bills do not have at least three new linemen, either offensive or defensive or some combination thereof, when Day One is over, I will be...annoyed.
The Bills have not been a force at the line of scrimmage since the late 90s. Pussyfooting around with fullbacks and wide receivers and having an open competition for the quarterback of the future isn't going to cut it. I'm judging Marv Levy's inaugural season as General Manager by how the team does at the line of scrimmage, because winning teams are good at the line of scrimmage.
Here we go. Next stop, training camp!
(By the way, I'm sure that lots of good analysis and rantage will be available over at BFLOBlog. Check those fellows too.)
The Bills have not been a force at the line of scrimmage since the late 90s. Pussyfooting around with fullbacks and wide receivers and having an open competition for the quarterback of the future isn't going to cut it. I'm judging Marv Levy's inaugural season as General Manager by how the team does at the line of scrimmage, because winning teams are good at the line of scrimmage.
Here we go. Next stop, training camp!
(By the way, I'm sure that lots of good analysis and rantage will be available over at BFLOBlog. Check those fellows too.)
A call for recipes and cooking suggestions!
OK, readers! I have two pounds of Polish sausage in my freezer, comprising two large loops of the stuff. And I want to cook it. I'm planning to cook one of the loops, actually, and then slice it up for use in a jamabalaya sometime in the next week or two. But what about the other one? Any thoughts?
(I should mention that my family uniformly hates sauerkraut. While I personally don't like to consume sauerkraut directly, I do think that a piece of meat simmered in sauerkraut is friggin' heavenly, but I can't even convince the clan of that, so recipes that involve sauerkraut are out.)
(By the way, when I went to college in Iowa, the pizza places out there offered sauerkraut as a pizza topping. That's wrong on so many levels that it boggles the mind to even try to list them all.)
(I should mention that my family uniformly hates sauerkraut. While I personally don't like to consume sauerkraut directly, I do think that a piece of meat simmered in sauerkraut is friggin' heavenly, but I can't even convince the clan of that, so recipes that involve sauerkraut are out.)
(By the way, when I went to college in Iowa, the pizza places out there offered sauerkraut as a pizza topping. That's wrong on so many levels that it boggles the mind to even try to list them all.)
Shuffling
I haven't done one of these in a while -- the "Friday Shuffle" thing, so here it is. (If you haven't seen it, what you do is set up your computer's music program to play shuffle your entire music library and then post the first ten tracks the computer plays.)
1. "Remembering" from Total Recall, by Jerry Goldsmith. I think that this was the last indisputably great score that Goldsmith wrote.
2. "Bounty Hunter's Pursuit" from Star Wars Episode II: Attack of the Clones. Good action cue.
3. "The Cobbler", from the album Big Shoes by the Dave Rowe Trio. I reviewed this album for GMR. This is one of those small bands that can be found in cities all throughout the country. I like their sound a lot.
4. "There's Nothin' Like a Dame", sung by Bryn Terfel from his Rodgers-and-Hammerstein album. I like his Lerner-and-Loewe album better, but this is still a great listen.
5. "Rock Hammer", from The Shawshank Redemption by Thomas Newman. This is a mild underscore cue that becomes rhythmic halfway through. This score's last half hour is amazing.
6. "Lamenta", by Mark Snow, from The Truth and the Light: Music of The X-Files. It really annoys me that this disc, with music from the show's first two seasons and released ten years ago, is still the only music released officially from The X-Files.
7. "Ice Skating Sequence", from Gigi. Music by Frederick Loewe. A nice waltz tune for an ice-skating scene from the film.
8. "Escape from Waziri / Eve and Struts", from High Road to China, by John Barry. This movie was Tom Selleck's consolation prize after he was unable to do Raiders of the Lost Ark because of his contractual obligation to star in CBS's new show Magnum PI. I tend to think that worked out fairly well for all concerned. High Road is a nice little adventure flick, with a good score by Barry.
9. "Goodbye", from Frank Sinatra Sings for Only the Lonely. If you've got a bit of depression that needs to be nursed with some music and booze, this is the album for you.
10. "Forgotten Overture", from Finding Neverland, by Jan A.P. Kaczmarek. I wrote about this score here. I used to play this score a lot while I was doing feedings for Little Quinn, and as such, this is a rare piece of music that is strongly connected to a certain set of memories and emotions for me. My relation to music tends to be strongly tilted toward the abstract, but not in this case.
1. "Remembering" from Total Recall, by Jerry Goldsmith. I think that this was the last indisputably great score that Goldsmith wrote.
2. "Bounty Hunter's Pursuit" from Star Wars Episode II: Attack of the Clones. Good action cue.
3. "The Cobbler", from the album Big Shoes by the Dave Rowe Trio. I reviewed this album for GMR. This is one of those small bands that can be found in cities all throughout the country. I like their sound a lot.
4. "There's Nothin' Like a Dame", sung by Bryn Terfel from his Rodgers-and-Hammerstein album. I like his Lerner-and-Loewe album better, but this is still a great listen.
5. "Rock Hammer", from The Shawshank Redemption by Thomas Newman. This is a mild underscore cue that becomes rhythmic halfway through. This score's last half hour is amazing.
6. "Lamenta", by Mark Snow, from The Truth and the Light: Music of The X-Files. It really annoys me that this disc, with music from the show's first two seasons and released ten years ago, is still the only music released officially from The X-Files.
7. "Ice Skating Sequence", from Gigi. Music by Frederick Loewe. A nice waltz tune for an ice-skating scene from the film.
8. "Escape from Waziri / Eve and Struts", from High Road to China, by John Barry. This movie was Tom Selleck's consolation prize after he was unable to do Raiders of the Lost Ark because of his contractual obligation to star in CBS's new show Magnum PI. I tend to think that worked out fairly well for all concerned. High Road is a nice little adventure flick, with a good score by Barry.
9. "Goodbye", from Frank Sinatra Sings for Only the Lonely. If you've got a bit of depression that needs to be nursed with some music and booze, this is the album for you.
10. "Forgotten Overture", from Finding Neverland, by Jan A.P. Kaczmarek. I wrote about this score here. I used to play this score a lot while I was doing feedings for Little Quinn, and as such, this is a rare piece of music that is strongly connected to a certain set of memories and emotions for me. My relation to music tends to be strongly tilted toward the abstract, but not in this case.
Anthems
I hope Digby doesn't mind me quoting his entire post, but it's brief and to the point:
A reader writes in to ask:
Please tell us again why the Spanish translation of the National Anthem is making wingnut heads explode when they all but genuflect at the waving of the Confederate Rebel flag?
Tell me please, which of these was meant to turn hearts to America, and which is meant to tear the country apart?
I don't know the answer to that. Apparently honoring the confederate flag is ok because it's a tribute to the heritage and culture of some Americans' forebears.
But that's the only culture and heritage to which Americans are allowed to pay such tribute. The one that seceded from the United States and created its own country.
Those whose forebears didn't secede from the US to form their own country but rather came to America to become Americans should not be allowed to honor their culture in any way shape or form. That would be un-American.
I can't explain this.
Yeah, I don't get it, either. Alan also points out that the lyrics are hardly "offensive" or disrespectful, and he also reminds us that "O Canada" has two sets of lyrics -- one English, one French.
A few weeks ago Kevin Drum expressed a kind of admiration for the way Michelle Malkin and her ilk seem to dig through local news all over the country in order to find tiny things over which they will then work up amazing amounts of rage. It really is amazing. Don't they get tired of being angry all the time?
(For the purposes of this post, I tried finding the lyrics to The Star Spangled Banner translated into Klingon, but I was unsuccessful. Alas!)
Friday, April 28, 2006
United
Today the new 9-11 movie, United 93, opens. I've read a large number of reviews, and not one of them has been less than glowing.
I'm sure I'll see it eventually, but not until I feel like it -- which will probably be a year or two from now, when it's on DVD and when the furor over its release has become distant memory. Kind of like the way I only watched The Passion of the Christ a few weeks ago. I'll see United 93 when it's easier to watch it as just a movie, which is what it is.
I have to note that I find slightly creepy the notion by some that United 93 will become some kind of tract that hopefully kick-starts American passion in the "War on Terror", and that it will bring people back round to full support of President Bush and his various adventures around the globe, both ongoing (Iraq) and "coming soon to a theater near you" (Iran). I'm not sure this will happen, frankly. Maybe it will. But two points: first, every single review of United 93 I've read makes it crystal clear that this film is absolutely, rigidly tight in its focus on the events on that plane, and on that plane alone. There is no exploration of the geopolitics of 9-11, either before or after, and there is no real effort to depict the backgrounds of the doomed passengers or to make truly villainous the efforts of the hijackers. As propaganda, United 93 as I've seen it described sounds wanting.
Secondly, if the hope that United 93 reminds Americans of the importance of "this war" (to use that sloppy, ill-defined phrase) exists, such a hope tacitly grants the premise that most Americans think the "war on terror" has gone awry, if it was ever on target in the first place. Consider what that means to the myth of George W. Bush as a war-leader of Churchillian brilliance, if he needs a movie to lead the nation where he has proven increasingly unable to get it to go.
Do I think that it's "too soon" for a 9-11 movie? I do not. Storytelling is probably the most inate human means of responding to events, whether mundane or traumatic. It wasn't "too soon" for comic books to meditate on 9-11 (albeit with mixed results); and I myself wrote a short story about 9-11 (and James Morrow wrote a better one). United 93 is different, of course, in that it dramatizes the actual events, rather than ruminating in story form on the emotional aftermath. The only "too soon" that matters is if the artists involved had enough time to really focus on what it was they were trying to accomplish with their particular work. For United 93, it is, according to reviewers, exactly soon enough.
I'm sure I'll see it eventually, but not until I feel like it -- which will probably be a year or two from now, when it's on DVD and when the furor over its release has become distant memory. Kind of like the way I only watched The Passion of the Christ a few weeks ago. I'll see United 93 when it's easier to watch it as just a movie, which is what it is.
I have to note that I find slightly creepy the notion by some that United 93 will become some kind of tract that hopefully kick-starts American passion in the "War on Terror", and that it will bring people back round to full support of President Bush and his various adventures around the globe, both ongoing (Iraq) and "coming soon to a theater near you" (Iran). I'm not sure this will happen, frankly. Maybe it will. But two points: first, every single review of United 93 I've read makes it crystal clear that this film is absolutely, rigidly tight in its focus on the events on that plane, and on that plane alone. There is no exploration of the geopolitics of 9-11, either before or after, and there is no real effort to depict the backgrounds of the doomed passengers or to make truly villainous the efforts of the hijackers. As propaganda, United 93 as I've seen it described sounds wanting.
Secondly, if the hope that United 93 reminds Americans of the importance of "this war" (to use that sloppy, ill-defined phrase) exists, such a hope tacitly grants the premise that most Americans think the "war on terror" has gone awry, if it was ever on target in the first place. Consider what that means to the myth of George W. Bush as a war-leader of Churchillian brilliance, if he needs a movie to lead the nation where he has proven increasingly unable to get it to go.
Do I think that it's "too soon" for a 9-11 movie? I do not. Storytelling is probably the most inate human means of responding to events, whether mundane or traumatic. It wasn't "too soon" for comic books to meditate on 9-11 (albeit with mixed results); and I myself wrote a short story about 9-11 (and James Morrow wrote a better one). United 93 is different, of course, in that it dramatizes the actual events, rather than ruminating in story form on the emotional aftermath. The only "too soon" that matters is if the artists involved had enough time to really focus on what it was they were trying to accomplish with their particular work. For United 93, it is, according to reviewers, exactly soon enough.
Wednesday, April 26, 2006
If you can't say something nice....
A blogger named John Bruce has been on something of a crusade about Glenn Reynolds, and transhumanism, and nanotechnology, and the Vingean singularity, for months. He seems to be trying to poke Reynolds with a bigger and bigger stick each time out, and he also seems to genuinely believe that Reynolds is somehow a driving force behind blogging, or something. Watching all of this unfold over the last couple of months, I almost get the idea of someone really hankering for an Instalanche.
But then, in this post, he goes over the line into stunning churlishness. He chooses to attack the way Terry Heaton (of whom I don't recall ever hearing before I read Mr. Bruce's post) dared to post about an awful turn of events in his personal life.
Short version: Mr. Heaton's wife died suddenly and unexpectedly. Mr. Heaton wrote a fairly brief post about this, in which he expresses his terrible grief and tries to say, in what I can only assume felt like far too few words, what his wife meant to him. He doesn't really write anything particularly out of the norm for such events. There is nothing in his post that one wouldn't expect to find in a post by a man who's just lost his wife.
Nothing one wouldn't expect, that is, unless one is John Bruce, in which case the whole post is horribly inappropriate and an illustration of everything that is wrong with Blogistan in general and Glenn Reynolds in particular. So there goes Mr. Bruce, speculating that Mr. Heaton's wife actually committed suicide, attacking the language Mr. Heaton used to describe his wife (calling it a "Righteous Brothers cover"), intimating that Mr. Heaton immediately followed up his post with an e-mail to Glenn Reynolds, attacking Reynolds for suggesting that his readers offer Mr. Heaton "their prayers" (since Reynolds apparently isn't a believer in prayer), and intimating that Reynolds is seeking to salve Mr. Heaton's grief by "giving him an Instalanche. That'll make him feel better!"
And his final salvo:
But then, in this post, he goes over the line into stunning churlishness. He chooses to attack the way Terry Heaton (of whom I don't recall ever hearing before I read Mr. Bruce's post) dared to post about an awful turn of events in his personal life.
Short version: Mr. Heaton's wife died suddenly and unexpectedly. Mr. Heaton wrote a fairly brief post about this, in which he expresses his terrible grief and tries to say, in what I can only assume felt like far too few words, what his wife meant to him. He doesn't really write anything particularly out of the norm for such events. There is nothing in his post that one wouldn't expect to find in a post by a man who's just lost his wife.
Nothing one wouldn't expect, that is, unless one is John Bruce, in which case the whole post is horribly inappropriate and an illustration of everything that is wrong with Blogistan in general and Glenn Reynolds in particular. So there goes Mr. Bruce, speculating that Mr. Heaton's wife actually committed suicide, attacking the language Mr. Heaton used to describe his wife (calling it a "Righteous Brothers cover"), intimating that Mr. Heaton immediately followed up his post with an e-mail to Glenn Reynolds, attacking Reynolds for suggesting that his readers offer Mr. Heaton "their prayers" (since Reynolds apparently isn't a believer in prayer), and intimating that Reynolds is seeking to salve Mr. Heaton's grief by "giving him an Instalanche. That'll make him feel better!"
And his final salvo:
But I’m left with a sense that the social mechanisms that ought to have helped Terry Heaton deal with sudden bereavement, and would likely have functioned effectively in earlier decades, simply weren’t there in his case. The blogosphere is not a replacement for real institutions.
How Mr. Bruce can divine the role in Mr. Heaton's life of those "social mechanisms", I cannot say. But he seems to immediately assume this, without any evidence at all that this is true. Bruce is just assuming whatever he wants to assume, shoehorning it all into his preconceived notion of the problems that ail the blogging medium and community.
As my own readers know, I can write about this with some experience. Last November, we lost our fifteen-month old son. And, horror of horrors, I posted about it -- and yes, I got some traffic from it, mainly via PZ Myers, TBogg, and Lance Mannion. And yes, the large flood of condolences left in my comments and in my e-mails were very comforting. But I, in no way, considered it a replacement for the social mechanisms Mr. Bruce is kvetching about. I only posted to the blog about Little Quinn's death after we'd already spoken to our families, people in our church, at our workplaces, and plain friends. The blogging community didn't replace anything, nor did it substitute for anything that failed to function as it should have. The blogging community was, as it has always been, just another part of life.
This, then, is the ultimately nauseating kernel of Mr. Bruce's post:
But if I were in similar circumstances, I've got to say that the last thing that would be on my mind would be "Oh, golly, I've got to post about this right away!" And consider that, once he'd put up his post, his next move had to have been to e-mail Reynolds and get the link put in Instapundit. If friends, neighbors, family, church members, or others counted for anything in this poor man's life, they should have been keeping him away from the keyboard at such a time.
There's no reason to suggest that his "next move had to have been to e-mail Reynolds". I didn't e-mail a soul after I wrote my own post about Little Quinn. Sometimes, things get around Blogistan all by themselves. That's just a shitty thing for Bruce to say, and he says it for no other reason than to make a shitty point about Glenn Reynolds and how much Bruce apparently hates the social aspects of blogging. And witness again Bruce's assumption that blogging about his wife's death indicates that "this poor man's life" has nobody in it but other bloggers.
Finally, this "Why, the last thing on my mind would be...." notion is ludicrous. Believe me, folks, the only way to find out what you'd do in a situation like that is to actually experience a situation like that. And they're all unique. I'm not about to take my reactions to Little Quinn's death as any kind of indicator of what I would do if something happened to The Daughter. Mr. Bruce is appointing himself to some kind of moral authority status, and frankly, it's disgusting. I can't say what the last thing on my mind would be to do if someone close to me died. But I can say that if I learned that someone died, the last thing on my mind would be to cherry pick that person's subsequent actions for details that seemingly support my own personal crusade.
(And my deepest condolences to Mr. Heaton.)
The Power of the List
Via Mental Multivitamin, I find one of the list-quiz things that I like so much, but that I haven't done in a while.
Instructions: Review the following list of books. Boldface the books you've read, italicize those you might read,cross out the ones you won’t, put an asterisk * beside the ones on your bookshelves, and place [brackets] around the ones you’ve never even heard of.
* The Da Vinci Code (Dan Brown)
The Catcher in the Rye (J.D. Salinger)
The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy (Douglas Adams)
The Great Gatsby (F. Scott Fitzgerald)
* To Kill a Mockingbird (Harper Lee)
[The Time Traveler’s Wife (Audrey Niffenegger)]
* His Dark Materials (Philip Pullman) (I've only read the first volume.)
* Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince (J. K. Rowling)
The Life of Pi (Yann Martel)
Animal Farm: A Fairy Story (George Orwell)
Catch 22 (Joseph Heller)
* The Hobbit (J.R.R. Tolkien)
[The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time (Mark Haddon)]
Lord of the Flies (William Golding)
* Pride and Prejudice (Jane Austen)
1984 (George Orwell)
* Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban (J. K. Rowling)
One Hundred Years of Solitude (Gabriel Garcia Marquez)
Memoirs of a Geisha (Arthur Golden)
[The Kite Runner (Khaled Hosseini)]
[The Lovely Bones (Alice Sebold)]
Slaughterhouse Five (Kurt Vonnegut)
The Secret History (Donna Tartt)
Wuthering Heights (Emily Bronte)
* The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe (C.S. Lewis)
Middlesex (Jeffrey Eugenides)
[Cloud Atlas (David Mitchell)]
Jane Eyre (Charlotte Bronte)
[Atonement (Ian McEwan)]
[The Shadow of the Wind (Carlos Ruiz Zafon)]
* The Old Man and the Sea (Ernest Hemingway)
The Handmaid’s Tale (Margaret Atwood)
The Bell Jar (Sylvia Plath)
* Dune (Frank Herbert)
Sula (Toni Morrison)
Cold Mountain (Charles Frazier)
The Alchemist (Paulo Coehlo)
[White Teeth (Zadie Smith)]
The House of Mirth (Edith Wharton)
When Istrike the books above, indicating that I won't read them, I'm meaning this in the "probably not" sense, not the "I hear that's a crappy book and I want nothing to do with it" sense. Basically, I'm just assuming that with my current interests being what they are, I don't see myself making those books priorities any time soon. All of this may change, however, in the next five years. Maybe I'll revisit this list in 2011, if I'm still blogging.
(And I'm not going to apologize for my intention to read The Da Vinci Code. I love goofy-assed conspiracy theories, especially those involving Jesus and whatnot. Sue me.)
Instructions: Review the following list of books. Boldface the books you've read, italicize those you might read,
* The Da Vinci Code (Dan Brown)
The Catcher in the Rye (J.D. Salinger)
The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy (Douglas Adams)
The Great Gatsby (F. Scott Fitzgerald)
* To Kill a Mockingbird (Harper Lee)
[The Time Traveler’s Wife (Audrey Niffenegger)]
* His Dark Materials (Philip Pullman) (I've only read the first volume.)
* Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince (J. K. Rowling)
Catch 22 (Joseph Heller)
* The Hobbit (J.R.R. Tolkien)
[The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time (Mark Haddon)]
* Pride and Prejudice (Jane Austen)
* Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban (J. K. Rowling)
One Hundred Years of Solitude (Gabriel Garcia Marquez)
Memoirs of a Geisha (Arthur Golden)
[The Kite Runner (Khaled Hosseini)]
[The Lovely Bones (Alice Sebold)]
Slaughterhouse Five (Kurt Vonnegut)
The Secret History (Donna Tartt)
Wuthering Heights (Emily Bronte)
* The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe (C.S. Lewis)
[Cloud Atlas (David Mitchell)]
Jane Eyre (Charlotte Bronte)
[Atonement (Ian McEwan)]
[The Shadow of the Wind (Carlos Ruiz Zafon)]
* The Old Man and the Sea (Ernest Hemingway)
The Bell Jar (Sylvia Plath)
* Dune (Frank Herbert)
[White Teeth (Zadie Smith)]
When I
(And I'm not going to apologize for my intention to read The Da Vinci Code. I love goofy-assed conspiracy theories, especially those involving Jesus and whatnot. Sue me.)
I'll get you next time, Nevins!
Jess Nevins recently informed me that if I bought his book, The Encyclopedia of Fantastic Victoriana, he would reimburse me the cost of the book if I didn't like it.
Well, he probably chuckled to himself the whole time, thinking, "Yeah, like that's gonna happen, because I wrote a good book and it's right up his alley! Heh!"
And damned if it didn't work: I've had the book less than a day and I'm wondering why I haven't had it for years. So, round one to you, Mr. Nevins. But wait until my book comes out!
(Note to self: resume writing book.)
(BTW, I only just started using Amazon again, so how long have they been putting up these "Hey, you already bought this item!" messages? I find that kind of irritating. I know what I own, dammit!)
Well, he probably chuckled to himself the whole time, thinking, "Yeah, like that's gonna happen, because I wrote a good book and it's right up his alley! Heh!"
And damned if it didn't work: I've had the book less than a day and I'm wondering why I haven't had it for years. So, round one to you, Mr. Nevins. But wait until my book comes out!
(Note to self: resume writing book.)
(BTW, I only just started using Amazon again, so how long have they been putting up these "Hey, you already bought this item!" messages? I find that kind of irritating. I know what I own, dammit!)
My wish, granted to someone else
Over at Adventures in Juggling, the last couple of posts detail the fact that her son just got his G-tube removed. I'm happy for them, if also a little wistful that Little Quinn never got to get rid of his.
Two steps forward, one step Bach
(Apologies to the audience for the horrible pun in this post's title. The parties responsible have been sacked.)
Lynn Sislo reports something of a shocker for the classical music world: a number of works that have for centuries been attributed to Johann Sebastian Bach may actually have been composed by Anna Magdalena Bach, Johann Sebastian's second wife.
My reaction is that, to a certain extent, I don't care.
Even if it can be conclusively established that the Suites for Unaccompanied Cello were not composed by Johann Sebastian Bach, it still in no way diminishes the works themselves: they are still miraculous. The music has stood the test of time, and I don't think that a change in attributed composership would impact the music at all.
But as for the historical record, at this point the idea that we've been crediting the wrong Bach for three hundred years certainly constitutes an extraordinary claim, and in the immortal words of Carl Sagan, "Extraordinary claims demand extraordinary evidence." I'm going to need to see a lot more evidence before I'll accept this idea.
To cite, as the article does, a mere stylistic difference in the Cello Suites from the rest of J.S. Bach's oeuvre establishes nothing, really, in itself, aside from a possible grounds for speculation. What's needed here is an autograph manuscript of the works in Bach's hand; or, failing that (since such a thing would not have existed if Anna Magdalena Bach had written the works), some kind of documentary evidence, in the form of a letter or a journal entry, in Bach's hand firmly establishing Anna Magdalena's compositions.
Likewise, I don't think that forensic analysis of the handwriting yields anything more than possible grounds for speculation. I can imagine any number of circumstances in Bach's life that would have explained the presence of Anna Magdalena before she became his wife. I just don't see any extraordinary evidence here, as yet.
But, just for a moment, suppose there was some extraordinary evidence that firmly established Anna Magdalena Bach as the composer of some of those great works.
Firstly, we're talking about J.S. Bach here. If we strike, say, one quarter of his most famous works from his oeuvre, the man was so prolific that we'd still be talking about one of the towering geniuses in all of classical music. Unless the "extraordinary evidence" took the form of a diary confession by Johann Sebastian -- "I have poison'd her, and all her divers works shall be mine forever! Haaa ha ha ha ha!", or something similarly nefarious-sounding -- I don't think it would diminish Bach that much. It might establish Johann Sebastian and Anna Magdalena as one of the great musical marriages, right up there with Robert and Clara Schumann. And it also might illustrate something about the role of women in classical music.
The fact is that the story of classical music is almost entirely a story of white men. Yes, there were important figures in classical music who were not white or male, but they were very infrequent. Obviously this is because women in classical music were usually steered toward performing roles as opposed to composition, and in music history, composition is where it's at. I've never been sure exactly about the fairness of that aspect of it, but there it is.
A question that often arises in classical music discussions is, "If Mozart came along today, would be recognize him?" And that's an interesting question, but it seems to me that since women were so frequently steered away from musical composition for whatever reasons, effectively fifty percent of the population was ruled out of composing. How many Mozarts have we missed, by the fact that women were pushed to the sidelines or onto the stages, as opposed to the composers' desks?
When I was in college, the woman who conducted our orchestra and taught music history was something of a feminist. I never found her terribly annoying about it; it was more that the role of women in classical music was a particular area of scholarly interest for her, as opposed to the focus of her being. One of our orchestra concerts was comprised of works by woman composers, and it was a pretty good concert -- all works worthy of being heard. And when I took music history from her, there were a couple of lectures on the topic, but nothing really rabid.
Some of my fellow students didn't see her this way, of course; it was a fairly conservative campus, and a lot of times, merely broaching the topic of women's roles in history drew a heavenward rolling of the eyes. When the prof handed out a list of suggested topics for papers, there were a handful of topics involving women in music; one of my classmates went through the list and circled all of these, marking them as "femme topics", whatever the hell that meant. And one guy who took the course a year previously warned those of us at the start of the semester thusly: "If a woman didn't compose it, we didn't study it." Well, unless the prof completely recasted her syllabus in the summertime, I don't see that as likely, especially since the textbook -- Grout and Palisca's History of Western Music, hardly a tome of feminist scholarship -- was the same for both years.
Hell, I don't know what point I'm trying to make here, except to note that as of now I find it highly unlikely that this conjecture about Anna Magdalena Bach is ever likely to rise beyond conjecture; but also to note that if it did rise to a level higher than conjecture, it wouldn't be terribly damaging to music.
Lynn Sislo reports something of a shocker for the classical music world: a number of works that have for centuries been attributed to Johann Sebastian Bach may actually have been composed by Anna Magdalena Bach, Johann Sebastian's second wife.
My reaction is that, to a certain extent, I don't care.
Even if it can be conclusively established that the Suites for Unaccompanied Cello were not composed by Johann Sebastian Bach, it still in no way diminishes the works themselves: they are still miraculous. The music has stood the test of time, and I don't think that a change in attributed composership would impact the music at all.
But as for the historical record, at this point the idea that we've been crediting the wrong Bach for three hundred years certainly constitutes an extraordinary claim, and in the immortal words of Carl Sagan, "Extraordinary claims demand extraordinary evidence." I'm going to need to see a lot more evidence before I'll accept this idea.
To cite, as the article does, a mere stylistic difference in the Cello Suites from the rest of J.S. Bach's oeuvre establishes nothing, really, in itself, aside from a possible grounds for speculation. What's needed here is an autograph manuscript of the works in Bach's hand; or, failing that (since such a thing would not have existed if Anna Magdalena Bach had written the works), some kind of documentary evidence, in the form of a letter or a journal entry, in Bach's hand firmly establishing Anna Magdalena's compositions.
Likewise, I don't think that forensic analysis of the handwriting yields anything more than possible grounds for speculation. I can imagine any number of circumstances in Bach's life that would have explained the presence of Anna Magdalena before she became his wife. I just don't see any extraordinary evidence here, as yet.
But, just for a moment, suppose there was some extraordinary evidence that firmly established Anna Magdalena Bach as the composer of some of those great works.
Firstly, we're talking about J.S. Bach here. If we strike, say, one quarter of his most famous works from his oeuvre, the man was so prolific that we'd still be talking about one of the towering geniuses in all of classical music. Unless the "extraordinary evidence" took the form of a diary confession by Johann Sebastian -- "I have poison'd her, and all her divers works shall be mine forever! Haaa ha ha ha ha!", or something similarly nefarious-sounding -- I don't think it would diminish Bach that much. It might establish Johann Sebastian and Anna Magdalena as one of the great musical marriages, right up there with Robert and Clara Schumann. And it also might illustrate something about the role of women in classical music.
The fact is that the story of classical music is almost entirely a story of white men. Yes, there were important figures in classical music who were not white or male, but they were very infrequent. Obviously this is because women in classical music were usually steered toward performing roles as opposed to composition, and in music history, composition is where it's at. I've never been sure exactly about the fairness of that aspect of it, but there it is.
A question that often arises in classical music discussions is, "If Mozart came along today, would be recognize him?" And that's an interesting question, but it seems to me that since women were so frequently steered away from musical composition for whatever reasons, effectively fifty percent of the population was ruled out of composing. How many Mozarts have we missed, by the fact that women were pushed to the sidelines or onto the stages, as opposed to the composers' desks?
When I was in college, the woman who conducted our orchestra and taught music history was something of a feminist. I never found her terribly annoying about it; it was more that the role of women in classical music was a particular area of scholarly interest for her, as opposed to the focus of her being. One of our orchestra concerts was comprised of works by woman composers, and it was a pretty good concert -- all works worthy of being heard. And when I took music history from her, there were a couple of lectures on the topic, but nothing really rabid.
Some of my fellow students didn't see her this way, of course; it was a fairly conservative campus, and a lot of times, merely broaching the topic of women's roles in history drew a heavenward rolling of the eyes. When the prof handed out a list of suggested topics for papers, there were a handful of topics involving women in music; one of my classmates went through the list and circled all of these, marking them as "femme topics", whatever the hell that meant. And one guy who took the course a year previously warned those of us at the start of the semester thusly: "If a woman didn't compose it, we didn't study it." Well, unless the prof completely recasted her syllabus in the summertime, I don't see that as likely, especially since the textbook -- Grout and Palisca's History of Western Music, hardly a tome of feminist scholarship -- was the same for both years.
Hell, I don't know what point I'm trying to make here, except to note that as of now I find it highly unlikely that this conjecture about Anna Magdalena Bach is ever likely to rise beyond conjecture; but also to note that if it did rise to a level higher than conjecture, it wouldn't be terribly damaging to music.
Monday, April 24, 2006
Miyazaki-san
Steven Den Beste has an article summing up his opinions on the films of Hayao Miyazaki. It's a good read. I'm a giant fan of Miyazaki's work myself, and SDB's post is interesting, even though I don't agree with him in all the particulars. In particular, I don't find Miyazaki's films terribly "preachy" at all -- but maybe I'm more simpatico with the general messages involved, so I tend to not find them heavy-handed in the first place. (Not that I'm immune to movie messages I agree with; as much as I love the Director's Cut of The Abyss, for example, that film drives its message home with all the subtlety of an Adam Sandler comedy.)
A couple of random points, only partially in response to SDB's article:
1. I love Castle in the Sky, but I have to grant SDB's point that the characters aren't the deepest that Miyazaki has created. Maybe with some stories, I'm more interested in the tale than I am in the characters? I'm not really sure here, but I know that I've greatly enjoyed, and counted more than a few among my absolute favorites, films whose characters aren't terribly interesting in themselves.
2. The Daughter just watched half of Totoro just this evening (turning it off at homework time). There just isn't a single misstep in this entire film. I find it immensely satisfying, and it doesn't leave me empty at all. I actually like the fact that this film gives just a tiny slice of one family's life, and doesn't even go more deeply than it needs to. We aren't forced to dwell on the mother's illness, and there's none of that "They could see Totoro while they were young and believed in magic, but as they aged they forgot" stuff that often turns up in magical stories about young children.
3. SDB doesn't mention another constant of Miyazaki's films: the music of composer Joe Hisaishi. I actually came to Miyazaki via the music of Hisaishi; I read a glowing review of the Princess Mononoke score and gave it a listen without seeing the film (longtime readers will know that I do not consider seeing the film to be prerequisite to enjoying a filmscore); the score became one of my all-time favorites more than a year before I had a chance to actually watch the film. The plucked strings and woodblocks of the kodamas sequence is an extraordinary passage of music.
Hisaishi has a very chameleonlike quality as a composer. He loves to use Eastern motifs in a Western musical idiom; these kinds of motifs abound in Totoro, Mononoke, and Spirited Away. For Kiki's Delivery Service, Hisaishi adopts an almost stereotypical French sound, with accordions and a lilting waltz for a main theme. His Castle in the Sky score is properly big and epic. (I have neither seen Howl's Moving Castle nor heard its score yet.)
4. To SDB's list of common Miyazaki themes, I'd add magical realism. All of Miyazaki's films involve fantastic elements to one degree or another (I did read one article once that argued fairly articulately that Castle in the Sky is even science fiction and not fantasy, but I'd still stick with the latter), but the treatment of magic is always very matter-of-fact. Miyazaki never stops the action for any kind of explanation of his magical events, and with the exception of Chihiro, no one is ever much surprised when magical things happen.
5. One of the things I most love about Miyazaki is the way he tosses tiny details into his films that are never remarked upon, never explained, and never figure into the main story at all. These little details are just there. Sometimes they greatly add to the depth of Miyazaki's universe, where other times they just add a small amount of "spice". Examples include Pazu's birds in Castle in the Sky and the dust-bunnies in Totoro. In this way, Miyazaki reminds me of George Lucas; the Star Wars films are chock full of small details that often mean less than fans seem to think they should. (Since Lucas is a known lover of Japanese cinema, perhaps someone can tell me if this is a facet of Japanese filmmaking in general, as opposed to being a unique quirk of Miyazaki's.)
6. Clouds. Seriously: I want to live in a world where the cities look like Lucas's Coruscant but boast Miyazaki's cloudscapes.
A couple of random points, only partially in response to SDB's article:
1. I love Castle in the Sky, but I have to grant SDB's point that the characters aren't the deepest that Miyazaki has created. Maybe with some stories, I'm more interested in the tale than I am in the characters? I'm not really sure here, but I know that I've greatly enjoyed, and counted more than a few among my absolute favorites, films whose characters aren't terribly interesting in themselves.
2. The Daughter just watched half of Totoro just this evening (turning it off at homework time). There just isn't a single misstep in this entire film. I find it immensely satisfying, and it doesn't leave me empty at all. I actually like the fact that this film gives just a tiny slice of one family's life, and doesn't even go more deeply than it needs to. We aren't forced to dwell on the mother's illness, and there's none of that "They could see Totoro while they were young and believed in magic, but as they aged they forgot" stuff that often turns up in magical stories about young children.
3. SDB doesn't mention another constant of Miyazaki's films: the music of composer Joe Hisaishi. I actually came to Miyazaki via the music of Hisaishi; I read a glowing review of the Princess Mononoke score and gave it a listen without seeing the film (longtime readers will know that I do not consider seeing the film to be prerequisite to enjoying a filmscore); the score became one of my all-time favorites more than a year before I had a chance to actually watch the film. The plucked strings and woodblocks of the kodamas sequence is an extraordinary passage of music.
Hisaishi has a very chameleonlike quality as a composer. He loves to use Eastern motifs in a Western musical idiom; these kinds of motifs abound in Totoro, Mononoke, and Spirited Away. For Kiki's Delivery Service, Hisaishi adopts an almost stereotypical French sound, with accordions and a lilting waltz for a main theme. His Castle in the Sky score is properly big and epic. (I have neither seen Howl's Moving Castle nor heard its score yet.)
4. To SDB's list of common Miyazaki themes, I'd add magical realism. All of Miyazaki's films involve fantastic elements to one degree or another (I did read one article once that argued fairly articulately that Castle in the Sky is even science fiction and not fantasy, but I'd still stick with the latter), but the treatment of magic is always very matter-of-fact. Miyazaki never stops the action for any kind of explanation of his magical events, and with the exception of Chihiro, no one is ever much surprised when magical things happen.
5. One of the things I most love about Miyazaki is the way he tosses tiny details into his films that are never remarked upon, never explained, and never figure into the main story at all. These little details are just there. Sometimes they greatly add to the depth of Miyazaki's universe, where other times they just add a small amount of "spice". Examples include Pazu's birds in Castle in the Sky and the dust-bunnies in Totoro. In this way, Miyazaki reminds me of George Lucas; the Star Wars films are chock full of small details that often mean less than fans seem to think they should. (Since Lucas is a known lover of Japanese cinema, perhaps someone can tell me if this is a facet of Japanese filmmaking in general, as opposed to being a unique quirk of Miyazaki's.)
6. Clouds. Seriously: I want to live in a world where the cities look like Lucas's Coruscant but boast Miyazaki's cloudscapes.
Sentential Links #47
Yup, it's that time of week again. Here goes:
:: Are we all hardwired to be idol worshippers? (Nope, I don't worship any idols. Nosiree Bob, not me! But that's not what she's talking about, anyway.)
:: Occasionally on my sandy walks I come across some remarkable man-made items. (Provisionally a very nice blog, by a composer who offers listening samples of her work. I haven't listened to any of them yet, but I will. Via ACD.)
:: I feel myself getting stupider every time I read that line, but the good news is that I have a long way to go before I would be actually stupid enough to say that line myself. (Maybe someday I'll inflict my own Star Wars fanfic upon the world. Ye Gods, what a disaster that would make -- I'd most certainly be banished to some sector of Blogistan frequented by old and dyslexic guys who keep trying to visit Polarwine and LFG.)
:: Trying to posthumously enlist Heinlein (or any dead author for that matter) in some modern political cause strikes me as a dubious enterprise.
:: So, I guess if men want to get it up, happily, they need to not keep us down. (Wow!)
:: I've nibbled on A; I've squished B; I've cavorted with C; but my favourite remains D. (This one might not be safe for work.)
:: How can you tell when the national immigration debate has reached saturation point and seeped too deeply into the public's consciousness? When your wife starts having dreams about it.
:: Is every Republican in Washington the emotional age of seven? (Oh, for the love of God. This shit cannot be for real.)
:: The SS Great Britain is cleverly designed to bring as much comfort to its passengers and crew members as possible. (This is part of a series of posts. Look at the photos; fascinating stuff!)
:: Set up an account and you’re automatically admitted to the futurismic bowels of the Monkey. (All together, now: "The filthy monkey, it plans!")
Enough for now. Tune in next week. And tomorrow. And...well, you know.
:: Are we all hardwired to be idol worshippers? (Nope, I don't worship any idols. Nosiree Bob, not me! But that's not what she's talking about, anyway.)
:: Occasionally on my sandy walks I come across some remarkable man-made items. (Provisionally a very nice blog, by a composer who offers listening samples of her work. I haven't listened to any of them yet, but I will. Via ACD.)
:: I feel myself getting stupider every time I read that line, but the good news is that I have a long way to go before I would be actually stupid enough to say that line myself. (Maybe someday I'll inflict my own Star Wars fanfic upon the world. Ye Gods, what a disaster that would make -- I'd most certainly be banished to some sector of Blogistan frequented by old and dyslexic guys who keep trying to visit Polarwine and LFG.)
:: Trying to posthumously enlist Heinlein (or any dead author for that matter) in some modern political cause strikes me as a dubious enterprise.
:: So, I guess if men want to get it up, happily, they need to not keep us down. (Wow!)
:: I've nibbled on A; I've squished B; I've cavorted with C; but my favourite remains D. (This one might not be safe for work.)
:: How can you tell when the national immigration debate has reached saturation point and seeped too deeply into the public's consciousness? When your wife starts having dreams about it.
:: Is every Republican in Washington the emotional age of seven? (Oh, for the love of God. This shit cannot be for real.)
:: The SS Great Britain is cleverly designed to bring as much comfort to its passengers and crew members as possible. (This is part of a series of posts. Look at the photos; fascinating stuff!)
:: Set up an account and you’re automatically admitted to the futurismic bowels of the Monkey. (All together, now: "The filthy monkey, it plans!")
Enough for now. Tune in next week. And tomorrow. And...well, you know.
Traffic jams will be a thing of the past!
Over at City Comforts, David Sucher has been focusing a lot on a Seattle issue: what to do about the "Alaskan Way Viaduct". This is an elevated expressway in downtown Seattle that runs right along that city's waterfront. According to the Wikipedia article linked previously, the Viaduct has become an object of concern because of the threat of earthquakes in the Pacific Northwest, especially following the collapse of the similar double-decker expressway in the Bay Area in 1989's major earthquake. I did some noodling about with Google Maps, and I was able to capture this bird's-eye view of the Viaduct:
Looking at that photo, I was strongly reminded of something. And I hope that my Buffalo readers are reminded of the same thing: our own Interstate 190, which is also an elevated expressway in our downtown that runs right along the waterfront. Apparently a number of Seattlites are of the view that in addition to being unsafe in earthquakes, the Viaduct also cuts off easy access to the city's waterfront, which is an oft-made complaint about I-190 in Buffalo. Here's the bird's-eye view of the 190:
This is not to suggest, of course, that Seattle and Buffalo are in similar positions, since Seattle actually has an economy and Buffalo would sure like to get one of those someday iffen' we can get the nice folks in Albany to remember that we exist way out here, but still, it's heartening to know that the same kinds of issues exist elsewhere.
Looking at that photo, I was strongly reminded of something. And I hope that my Buffalo readers are reminded of the same thing: our own Interstate 190, which is also an elevated expressway in our downtown that runs right along the waterfront. Apparently a number of Seattlites are of the view that in addition to being unsafe in earthquakes, the Viaduct also cuts off easy access to the city's waterfront, which is an oft-made complaint about I-190 in Buffalo. Here's the bird's-eye view of the 190:
This is not to suggest, of course, that Seattle and Buffalo are in similar positions, since Seattle actually has an economy and Buffalo would sure like to get one of those someday iffen' we can get the nice folks in Albany to remember that we exist way out here, but still, it's heartening to know that the same kinds of issues exist elsewhere.
Sunday, April 23, 2006
Sunday Burst of Weirdness Greatness
Hey, wanna watch one of the greatest short films ever made? A nearly perfect blend of music and visuals, with comic timing that probably made Lucille Ball look like someone at Open Mike night at a club in Topeka?
Sure you do.
(Sorry, Google! We had some great times and I'll always love you, but YouTube's my girlfriend now.)
Sure you do.
(Sorry, Google! We had some great times and I'll always love you, but YouTube's my girlfriend now.)
Rails? Who needs 'em?
It's hard for me to pick out exactly where this article transitions from slightly reasonable to friggin' whacko, but I'm guessing it's where the writer uses the word "f***" to describe someone.
A very public service message.
Last night, I got my first significant comments-spam attack, as some outfit left something like twenty comments here with links to...something. (Don't know what, don't care what. Didn't check.) After deleting all of those, I've now turned on YACCS's new moderating system, so no comments here will appear until I manually approve them. If this proves to be a larger pain-in-the-ass than I'm willing to deal with, then I may switch over to Blogger's commenting system, which has a CAPTCHA word-verification thing. Moderation isn't my first choice, but I'm willing to suffer with it for a while and see how it goes. Luckily, this blog doesn't tend to generate long comments threads, but my threads have trended longer recently and I'd hate to see that go by the wayside again just because I can't free myself up for large segments of the day to moderate things. We'll see.
If any of you Fine Readers have an opinion on this, feel free to e-mail it (or leave it in comments, since with the moderation turned on I'm pretty much guaranteed to see all comments now).
So now, on with our show. And please feel free to enjoy a fine beverage by the fine folks at Schweppes.
If any of you Fine Readers have an opinion on this, feel free to e-mail it (or leave it in comments, since with the moderation turned on I'm pretty much guaranteed to see all comments now).
So now, on with our show. And please feel free to enjoy a fine beverage by the fine folks at Schweppes.
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