dejadrew

Crappy comics make Jesus cry.

Sun, 08 Nov 2009 08:52:40 GMT

My sister was rummaging in her trick or treat bag today. My sister is theoretically too old to trick or treat, but she is smaller than me and cuter than me and has little or no shame. At least where free candy is concerned. Darn her. Anyway, she was going through the last of her candy and stuff when she discovered that the "and stuff" included a fundy Christian comic mini pamphlet. You know, repent or go to Hell, you adorable little heathen.

Now that is a scary Halloween trick.

She was mostly amused. Little worried she might have been singled out for some reason. Her fellow treaters better have gotten 'em too, or that's blatant discrimination against goth zombie nurses and she'll totally sue.

I was amused too, but also annoyed. Not so much at the proselytizing, actually. I kinda feel bad for most of the local Mormons and such, doggedly trying to hand out free bibles by the train stations and smiling wearily and wishing me a nice day when I turn them down. You just want to give them a consoling pat and a mug of warm tea, you know? There, there, I'm sure you'll save someone from everlasting hellfire tomorrow!

What offends me isn't so much the religion. It's the damn BAD COMICS.

On my shelf is the complete Vertigo edition of Osamu Tezuka's Buddha. It's gorgeous and epic and funny and heartbreaking and humane and so damn bloody UNFAIR. Because Siddharta Gautama Buddha got Osamu Tezuka, Manga no Kami-sama, God of Manga, the father of sequential art in East Asia, doing comics based on his life and teachings. What did poor Jesus get? Jack. Freaking. Chick.

I don't consider myself a Christian, except culturally. You know, celebrates Christmas and Easter, but doesn't attend church and hasn't been baptized or saved. I'm basically agnostic in my beliefs. Well, with lingering touches of neo-paganism left over from an adolescent Wiccan period. But while I haven't taken Jesus as my personal saviour, I have a certain amount of affection and admiration for the guy. And he deserves better than crummy, stiff art, BAD plotting and storytelling, and cold, humourless, angry writing. The man punned, for God's sake. (I mean, literally, he punned for the sake of his God.) Jesus had a sense of humour, and he was a damn GOOD storyteller. He'd hate this ugly, angry, smug little book.

Well, no, I guess he'd love it even though it's ugly and angry and forgive whoever drew it because he's the Nazz and that is how he rolls but STILL.

So, here's a few comics in which Jesus appears which do not suck. Because it is possible, darn it.

Dean Rankine's HOLY COW! Christian Comics. The anti-Chick. Dean Rankine appears to be a smart and sane member of the faithful, and he can draw. His zany, cartoony art style reminds me a bit of the little illustrations in Klutz Press books. These little mini-comics are hilarious and thoughtful. Jesus appears in them as a grinning hippy figure in sandals and colourful t-shirts, which apparently some people have found sacreligious but I find ridiculously a propos. And the comics have delightfully clickable titles like "Jesus meets Oprah" and "Psalm 23 and the Vampire Death Squad."

Externality and The Book of Merl, by Daniel Merlin Goodbrey. Jesus makes appearances in these two fun flash-based hypercomics. The Book of Merl was Goodbrey's attempt at improvising his own holy book, in comic form, and a little stick figure Jesus makes a cameo. It's a nice little acknowlegement of the debt the creator feels he owes Christianity as to the shaping of his morals.

...In Externality, Jesus battles a NINJA.

Saint Young Men, by Nakamura Hikaru. Jesus and Buddha take some time off from Heaven and kick it on Earth for a while, sharing a cheap bachelor pad in Japan. It's like the Odd Couple! With saviours! I dearly love this one for so many reasons. Mostly because my particular sense of humour is always tickled by the juxtaposition of the fantastic and the mundane. But also because both Jesus of Nazareth and Siddharta Gautama Buddha went through so much crap on this Earth, and It's NICE to think of the two of them getting to come back and relax and be ordinary and go to Tokyo Disneyland.

The thing those comics all have in common, sadly, is that conservative Christian fundamentalists probably hate them. But I like 'em. And Jesus loves 'em. But then, Jesus loves everybody, so I'm told.

I just want to get this off my chest.

Wed, 14 Oct 2009 06:09:23 GMT

Giving alcohol to a minor.

Giving drugs to a minor.

Having sexual contact with a minor.

Having sexual contact with someone who is under the influence of drugs and alcohol.

Having sexual contact with someone who repeatedly says "no."

If someone does any ONE of these things, it is a crime. Roman Polanski did all of them. ALL of them. So how the sweet everloving fuck can that not be "real rape?" How can anyone argue that? How could you even begin?

They said you couldn't sew a haiku's head onto the body of a sonnet! They called me MAD!

Wed, 07 Oct 2009 07:19:36 GMT

I've made a new journal for a project that's been itching me for a while.

madpoetist, the collected poetry of a time-traveling mad scientist.

There's only one entry up so far, and I'm not sure where this is headed. Could be terrible. Should be fun. We'll see, anyway.

If nothing else, the persona I've chosen can go back and rewrite anything I hate. Time traveler, hello!

EEE! EEE!

Sat, 26 Sep 2009 18:41:31 GMT

Home sick from work, which sucks, but found something while surfing that made me feel a bit better.

I had already read some squeeing by delighted people who had found out that Vertical publishing licensed the manga Chii's Sweet Home. Which, yes, is awesome, and I'm glad too, because Chii's Sweet Home is The Most Adorable Thing Ever and who could hate that? But today was the day that I found out they were also licensing Twin Spica.

SQUEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!

I loved the anime! I love what few scans I've been able to find of the manga! Astronauts! Teenaged girls going to special astronaut school to learn to be astronauts! Imaginary friend who's actually the ghost of a dead astronaut! EEE!

I leave you with the anime's awesome opening sequence. Rock out, y'all.

Real Men

Thu, 10 Sep 2009 05:09:51 GMT

I've been on a classic Trek kick lately, watching some old favourites and reveling in their Spock eyebrow-quirking McCoy cranky-pantsing Kirk space-babe-seducing goodness. And I was watching Journey to Babel, because Spock's parents ROCK, when I was struck by a profound contrast between fantasy and reality.

See, in that episode, Kirk gets stabbed in the gut when the bad dude brings a knife to a fistfight. And Spock donates like all his blood for his dad's life saving operation. And maybe an hour later, Kirk and Spock are both totally clamoring to get out of bed and get back to work.

Kirk: Honestly, I'm fine! It's just a scratch! Who really needs TWO kidneys? I've always thought that two was excessive anyway. And that other organ that just fell out, I don't know what it's called but I'm sure it's not important, just put it on ice and I'll deal with it later.

Spock: Indeed. As for myself, unlike humans I am fairly certain we Vulcans do not truly require blood. I can perform my duties perfectly adequately on the 250 millilitres remaining to me plus a pot of strong tea.

McCoy: God help me, if I have to SEDATE THE STUPID OUT OF YOU, I will.

Kirk and Spock were both being That Guy, you know? The one who never admits he's sick. The one who sneaks out of the hospital through the second story ward window using his own IV as a rope. That Guy is everywhere in fiction. Starfleet consists almost entirely of That Guy. I don't think any man in any anime I've watched has ever stayed in the hospital long enough to actually be released.

I have never actually met That Guy.

I don't deny he could exist, I've just never met one personally.

I have only met This Guy.

I was in fact raised by This Guy. In fact, the particular This Guy who raised me is sick right now, and moping around convinced he's dying. (My mother, by the way, finds the above sketch hysterical.)

Me: I just find it so interesting that nearly all the men in fiction are so stoic in the face of illness, and most of the men in real life are... not.

Dad: (moans something in the background about what he wants on his tombstone.)

Mom: Maybe the men writing Star Trek were using Kirk to fantasize about who they wish they could be.

Dad: (mumbles something vague about a tunnel and a warm white light.)

Me: Actually, this episode was written by D.C. Fontana, a woman.

Dad: (coughs and hacks wretchedly)

Mom: ...Well, maybe she was doing a bit of fantasizing, herself. Was she married?

Dad: (groans)

Red Shirts forev... uh, for about fifteen seconds! YEAH!

Mon, 11 May 2009 16:20:39 GMT

Having seen the new Star Trek movie, I now kinda want to have a torrid affair with every single male member of the cast before eventually settling down and marrying Doctor McCoy.

This movie had pretty much everything I could have wanted or hoped for from a Trek movie. McCoy being a cranky luddite! Spock raising an eyebrow and saying "fascinating!" Kirk being a huge slut! And A GUY IN A RED SHIRT DYING HORRIBLY FIVE MINUTES INTO THE MISSION! WOOO! I was dressed as a Red Shirt for the premiere, so I was bizarrely pleased by that. Unfortunately, hardly anyone in the theatre got the joke. One accessory in particular seemed to cause confusion....

Concerned and Well-Meaning Moviegoer #4: "Excuse me, did you know you have a target taped to your back?"

Me: " *sigh* Yes. Even if three other people hadn't already told me, yes."

That aside, I had a lovely time. I was found by a wandering gang of nerds who saw that I was at the movie by myself and decided to adopt me as one of their own, which was really nice. The movie was a lot more awesome than I expected. I wasn't expecting awesome at all. I was expecting okay, and got awesome. Still a little heartbroken about Vulcan and Amanda, but I'm telling myself that regular Trek continuity still exists as an alternate reality, dammit, it did not go away, it did NOT. And I do understand the reason for fridging Amanda and the whole damn planet with her. That shock was needed to really make the audience feel that Things Are Different Now, and Anything Can Happen, and You Are Not Safe, and You Can't Complain About Continuity Any More Neener Neener.

Another thing I wasn't expecting was the Uhura/Spock thing, but I think I like it. In particular, I love how it subverted every romantic comedy and anime relationship ever:

Kirk: Hey, Baby, what's your sign?

Uhura: "No trespassing."

Kirk: Come on, don't be like that.

Uhura: Shoo.

Kirk: You say that now, but I and the audience both know that at the end of a few movie hours worth of arguing and sexual tension you're going to trip and fall into my bed and admit that actually you liked me all along.

Audience: *sigh* He's right, Uhura. Might as well give in to the laws of romantic narrative now and get it over with.

Uhura: Not interested.

Kirk: Which we all know really means....

Uhura: REALLY not interested. No, seriously. I'm not going to end up with you by the end of the movie. It turns out I'm already in a relationship with someone almost completely unlike you. I'm actually just not that into you.

Audience: !!!

Kirk: Oh. Um, is it a passionless relationship with a bland boring guy which will dissipate as soon as you realize how hot I am?

Uhura: Nope. Tall dark and handsome AND exotic mysterious and tormented. Sorry.

Audience: <3 <3 <3

Kirk: But... But... You are REALLY messing with audience expectations, here...

Fangirls in Audience: Sorry, Kirk, but given the option, we'd all bang Spock too.

Kirk: Oh. Okay. Um. Well. Guess I'll, just... go back to sleeping my way through Starfleet Academy's female student body, then. I mean, I think there are still at least three sophomores in the engineering faculty I haven't banged yet, so... yeah.

Uhura: Have fun.

Kirk: ... Any chance of a three-way?

Spock: I would not be averse to this suggestion...

Uhura: Shut up, honey.

Spock: Yes, dear.

********************************

A movie where no actually really does mean no, and is not code, and persistance is not all you need to wear her down and make her love you. Thank you God.

Oh yeah, THAT'S why I keep doing this!

Tue, 28 Apr 2009 01:22:23 GMT

Apparently, my writing does not suck! This is a source of intense relief. I was beginning to worry. Well, continuing to worry. And also starting to make jokes about changing my name and moving to Switzerland and never writing anything again. At least, I think I was joking. Maybe. But we'll never know whether or not I would have followed through on that joke/plan, because I have it on good authority and from multiple sources that my writing does not suck! HOORAY!

I wrote and directed a fifteen-minute comedy that I took to the regional One-Act Play Festival this past Saturday. From day one this play has been plagued with difficulties. Literally plagued. My lead actress caught some kind of Killer Martian Death Cold the week before opening night.

(The actress, AKA my kid sister, caught it from my Dad, who caught it from the receptionist at the doctor's office. I'm sure the irony will be hilarious someday, and I will make many jokes about the receptionist earning extra cash for drumming up repeat business, but I'm not... quite... there... yet.)

I spent the last few days frantically working through worst case scenarios.

"If Sis is too sick to go on, I take her place and perform the part."

"If the male lead catches her cold and becomes too sick to go on, I KILL HIM and then draft Sis's boyfriend and make him read the part."

"If lead actor, Sis, and Sister-boyfriend all get hit by a car five minutes before opening, I refuse to go to their funerals and meanwhile draft two random people out of the audience to perform a public reading of the script."

"If I get hit in the same car accident and die then.... well, then this play is no longer my problem and somebody ELSE can figure out what to do with the fifteen minute hole in the program."

But none of the worst case scenarios came to pass! Sis pounded down Buckley's and Fisherman's Friends and medicinal herbal teas and nasal sprays and crap and got through the whole fifteen minutes without coughing or sneezing once! (During. After final curtain she stepped offstage and doubled up on the floor hacking like mad. ) And both of them turned in such great performances! They were so good!

And the audience LAUGHED! I was so afraid they wouldn't. None of our test audiences did, the one or two people at a time who we were able to fit into the lead actor's apartment where we were rehearsing. They just sat there in silence and then said it was "nice." I was so afraid they were being nice, that they were lying to spare my feelings. But this audience, our first, real, more than two people sitting all together in a darkened theatre audience... They laughed. They laughed a lot. They laughed at lines I had long since forgotten were funny.

And the adjudicator asked for permission to use my script in her acting class as a classroom exercise for her students. And this guy who won the award for best actor kept coming up to me afterward to gush about how awesome he thought my script was, in great detail and with great enthusiasm.

And we didn't win anything, and I didn't expect to, but it doesn't matter. They liked it. They laughed.

And I don't have to go into hiding in Switzerland.

Until I finish writing the next one.

An update to Amazonfail

Tue, 14 Apr 2009 04:54:10 GMT

Looks like the explanation being leaked from Amazon is "human error" as described here.

And here's an explanation of why some books got de-listed and not others; apparently the categories “gay,” ”lesbian,” ”transgender,” “erotica,” and “sex” were the tags which got toggled as "adult" in the database. I'd been wondering: I'd noticed that Fumi Yoshinaga's award winning shounen-ai tinged drama Antique Bakery had been de-listed, when her much more explicit yaoi story Solfege had retained it's rank. When I looked at the metadata categories, Solfege is categorized as "yaoi," not "gay."

We all knew that the explanation was one of three things: stupidity, malice, or stupidity AND malice. If it turns out to be merely stupidity, then that's a great relief. It does not however, explain why this wasn't dealt with back in February, when the first of these cases started to be reported.

I'd like a detailed official explanation, an official apology, and some kind of statement regarding what's being done both to fix the current situation and to prevent it from ever happening again. Until then, I'm not going to wholeheartedly forgive them, but I will downgrade from "volcanically pissed-off" to "severely annoyed."

But I'm glad that I did get volcanically pissed off, and that so many other much more clever, connected, creative people did. People should get pissed off when something like this happens. No matter how it started, it ended with the voices of a minority being silenced, and FUCK that. Amazon didn't start dealing with this situation until it became the PR nightmare it did. It's nice to see a wrathful Internet working in the service of good.

It's a Google-Bomb and everyone's invited!

Mon, 13 Apr 2009 00:04:44 GMT

Amazon Rank.

For an explanation of what the fizzity-uck this is about, here is a good pissed off explanation. Also here, and here.

Here is a list of books that have been affected.

Oh Bleep No.

Wed, 25 Mar 2009 15:22:02 GMT

I would like to apologize in advance to my fellow Canadians, as I am about to seriously undermine our national reputation for being polite and easygoing. However, in an attempt to minimize the damage, I shall bleep out the curse words.

Ahem. [BLEEP] you, FOX. [BLEEP] you up the [BLEEP] and down the [BLEEP] with a rusty [BLEEP]ing [BLEEP], sideways, until it comes out your [BLEEP], you [BLEEPING] [BLEEPYMCBLEEPITYBLEEP]kitten[BLEEP]ers.

"Didn't know" we were in the [BLEEP]ing war? The one we joined eight [BLEEP]ing years ago to support the USA, our friend and ally, when it was attacked? Well, lucky you, you [BLEEP]s. I wish we didn't know. I bet these guys knew it pretty [BLEEP]ing well.

I gather this show is supposed to be "funny." Right. Real [BLEEP]ing funny. I bet the [BLEEP]ing families of this "ridiculous" country's soldiers, alive and dead, think this is just hi-[BLEEP]ing-larious.

Listen, nobody laughs at jokes about Canadians harder than Canadians do. We Canucks know funny. This? This, FOX, is not [BLEEP]ing funny.

On the Scans Daily thing.

Mon, 02 Mar 2009 05:36:34 GMT

I'm a little depressed about the loss of </a></b></a>scans_daily on livejournal. I know it's back already, but it'll take a while to rebuild, and what if our new home kicks us out too? The reasons and attitudes that got us shut down haven't gone away just because we've gone elsewhere.

I think what's depressing me most isn't so much the loss of the comm, it's why, and what some people are saying about it now. I suppose they'd been saying it all along, but I hadn't noticed, because I wasn't where they were. I was on Scans Daily, making jokes about Nightwing's ass or something. But apparently we were evil. We were pirates. We were taking food from creators' mouths. We were entitlement bitches who felt we had the right to steal comics instead of buying them like good boys and girls (mostly girls).

...It happens that I am currently in the process of sorting through my massive comic collection. It outgrew my shelves a while ago and spilled out onto the floor (which I maintain TOTALLY COUNTS as a very large, very low shelf). Last week I started to try to arrange the piles into different piles, in the faint, desperate hope that maybe I could get them organized and maybe back onto a shelf at some point.

So when I found out that Scans Daily was gone, and why some people thought that was a good thing, I just, sort of wandered over to the miniature cityscape of book skyscrapers I've got over there and started running my fingers over the spines, remembering.

The new Blue Beetle. What was it that somebody posted that made me want to read that?... Oh yeah, it was the bit where the Blue Beetle's Mom and Dad tell him that he can go help people in accidents or natural disasters without getting permission first, so long as his homework's done and he calls if he's going to be late. That was awesome. I love superhero comics where the friends and family know. Not only wouldn't I have bought that, heck, I probably COULDN'T have bought that without Scans Daily. I wouldn't have known who the old Blue Beetle was or who Booster Gold was or anything or why I should care and I would have been hopelessly lost. As it is I had to spend like an hour on wikipedia and ask another nerd what the heck an OMAC was...

...Ah, the All New Atom by Gail Simone. I bet it was the bit with the giant naked lady attacking the drive in that made me pick this up. I'm a sucker for a giant naked lady drive-in movie rampage. Gail Simone doesn't think I'm evil or entitled. That's good to know, at least.

Ooh, Flower of Life. Did I?... Yeah, I think that was another Scans Daily one. The bit with the creepy otaku going on and on without pausing for breath until someone screams at him to shut up. I KNOW that guy. I hear volume four of this might FINALLY be coming out, better get my comic guy to place it on order...

Marvel Adventures versions of Avengers and Fantastic Four. I never much liked the original 616 versions of these, it never would have occured to me that these could be awesome if I hadn't seen them on Scans Daily and seen that it was PURE KICKASS AND COTTON CANDY in paper form.

Ha! Empowered! Oh my gaaaawd, Empowered. It would NEVER have occured to me that I might like Empowered. I would have glanced at it and rolled my eyes and gone "oh, yet another T&A comic" and been COMPLETELY WRONG and infinitely sadder than I am now without this little guilty pleasure in my life. Because it IS T&A but it's just so damned adorable, and Emp is trying so hard and she's so sweet and she doesn't deserve a fraction of the crap she gets slung at her and hating her or her comic would be like hating orphaned shelter puppies and without Scans Daily showing me I would never have known! And now I own all four volumes. Wait, there's only three here, where's... Oh, my sister has volume one. Okay. Damn, I hope she finishes it soon. I'm all cravey now.

I think she has my copy of Top Ten, too. Or maybe I loaned that one to my best friend... Yeah, that's it, she was on the phone gushing about how awesome Irma Geddon was. I love that goddamn comic so goddamn much. It's like... like if you could somehow make a candy that had the bright colours and the crunch and fizz and sparkle of pop rocks that miraculously also had the richness and depth and bittersweet smoothness of expensive dark chocolate. That's what Top Ten would be like if you could eat it. And then you could never eat anything else ever again and you'd die malnourished and three hundred pounds overweight (but happy). So it's just as well that you can't eat Top Ten. But I'm glad Scans Daily gave me a taste.

HOLY SHIT, Ex Machina! I discovered freaking EX MACHINA on Scans Daily! How could I forget that? God, I am addicted to that thing! And I'm always pushing it on everybody as an example of just how excellent comics can be. And how photo-referencing should be done, as opposed to how Greg Land does it. (Damn, I need to go somewhere else to commiserate and bitch about Greg Land's porn tracings now...) But I've bought every single trade of Ex Machina, so Vertigo owes, um, seven sales to Scans Daily. No, wait, fourteen, because a few months back a friend of mine was in the comic shop looking for something new and I put Ex Machina in her hands and told her to buy it and the next time I saw her she was buying all the others.

Oh yeah, I shouldn't forget the comics I shared. I was scanning and uploading too. Not often, and never more than six pages of anything, because I didn't want to choke up the page too much, and scanning is tedious as hell anyway. But I guess it was enough to make me a criminal and a bad fan, in the eyes of some.

Anyway, I uploaded the opening scene of Done To Death by Andrew Foley. I wish somebody would print a trade of that, it's hard to find. I figured it was a good sampler/intro, because it was the same scene Foley put on an overhead projector to read out loud at a local library event. Almost everyone seemed to really love it. Well, one person thought that the slushpile editor staking the vampire badfic-writer was overkill, but most people admitted that's something they'd like to do.

Ooh, and Tales of Leonardo: Blind Sight. That was my very first post. You can never get enough Ninja Turtles. And the art on that one was pretty sweet, too.

Oh, hell, Zombies Calling! That was the one where after I posted the ACTUAL AUTHOR, ACTUAL FAITH ERIN HICKS posted and joked that woo, she was on Scans Daily now, she must have finally hit the big time, and I was all like daah, I temporaily forgot you were a real person with a real livejournal and now I'm getting all shy and incoherent like I always do around people who make stuff I like and thank god you're at least not in the same room to see me go glazed and mumbly. (Guest appearances at conventions are extremely frustrating. I'm thinking of typing up cards in advance. "Hello. I become mute in the presence of awesome and therefore am unable to tell you how awesome you are. Please do not hold it against me.")

Some of my happiest, and smuggest, moments as a fan are successful conversions. When I loan a book to a friend and she complains because now she has to buy it and all the sequels. Or when I flip to a page or read a few favourite word balloons aloud in the comic shop and somebody who was waffling decides to try what I'm recommending. Or when, on Scans Daily, somebody posts a reply to my entry and says "Well, I'm sold! I'll have to track that down!" It gives me all kinds of warm fuzzies. I live for that. I think I'm far from the only Scans Daily poster who did live for that.

That and the jokes about Nightwing's ass. Sigh. Good times.

WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH......

Sat, 20 Dec 2008 07:20:38 GMT

Majel Barrett Roddenberry, February 23, 1932 - December 18, 2008.

Goodbye, ma'am. Goddamnit I will miss you.

Trying to look up "not dying" in the game manual.

Sat, 13 Dec 2008 04:41:40 GMT

I am trying to branch out from adventure gaming, which is my home and native genre. I don't have the bandwidth allowance to play World of Warcraft without ridiculously hefty tithes to my provider, so I am tentatively trying my hand at some bargain-bin single-player RPGs my sister sent me. The transition is... difficult. I have all the finely honed combat skills of an earthworm. Even the earthworm might do better at some parts of the game than me. We sold worms for bait at one of my places of business, and many times have I witnessed the +5 boost to persuasion they get from their Pathetic Accusatory Wiggling skill. My character can manage the pathetic and the wiggling parts, but it never seems to have much effect on my digital enemies as I try to remember what the hell key I need to hit to draw my weapon while a wolf is cheerfully gnawing on my butt.

Looting comes a bit more naturally. One thing RPGs and adventure games seem to have in common is that if it ain't nailed down, take it, so I'm quite cheerfully picking corpses clean and gathering herbs like there's no tomorrow. But it won't let me pick up the rope. This is... FOREIGN to me. The one item in every adventure game you will ALWAYS find a use for, that you will ALWAYS need! If I don't pick up the rope, I'll regret it! I'll have to climb something or tie someone up or there will be a, a, a character who will only talk to us if we prove our worth by demonstrating our skills at knot-tying, I DON'T KNOW! It's ROPE! You don't pass up rope! But in this game, not only do you pass up rope, you don't even see rope! You walk right by rope without even acknowledging that it's there! This feels somehow sacriligious.

Sigh. I shall keep trying. The rest of the gaming world seems to think this sort of thing is the tops, and I did enjoy Warcraft during the brief time I was able to try playing it. (World of Warcraft! Combat so easy, earthworms can play! And possibly participate in guild chat, which would explain some of the spelling.)

And I AM enjoying the herb gathering. ("Oooh! Pretty plant!")

But right now, the demo for A Vampyre Story has finished downloading, and I believe I shall give that a try. It involves an opera singing vampiress, and puzzles, and perhaps, maybe, possibly, even rope. Much more my speed.

Aw. Just when it was getting good.

Fri, 05 Dec 2008 06:12:48 GMT

Phooey. For a while there, Canadian politics were EXCITING. I mean, we had an honest to goodness coup! Granted, it was a very, very Canadian coup, which was strictly legal and by the book and involved a great deal of letter-writing and, for a few hours this morning, a live round the clock door watch. SUSPENSE!

"As you can see, we are still waiting for the Governor-General's front door to open, and Stephen Harper to get his pasty butt out here and tell us whether or not he's still Prime-Minister."

"Wait, wait! It's opening!"

"And is there, yes, yes, I believe someone is coming out, and... oh. No, no, it appears it is just a security guard coming to close the doors, which blew open, and now there is a draft."

"That's the third time that's happened, isn't it?"

"Yes it is. In other news, the microphone boom guy is going to walk off a leg cramp, and we are sending Doug to get some double-doubles and Timbits."

All that build up, with the angry speech-making, and the breathless door-watching... The end came as a helluvan anti-climax. The Governor General came out of her hole, saw her shadow, and gave us six more weeks of Harper.

Sigh. Sorry, opposition parties. No coup for you. Not 'til January, anyway. Well, at least we don't have another damn election. Yet.

Thankyouthankyouthankyouthankyou....

Wed, 05 Nov 2008 05:57:47 GMT

The neighbours to the south have just elected Barack Obama as their next president.

I find myself giddy with relief and trying to mentally calculate the potential expense of creating and mailing several million "Thank you" cards.

Election Envy

Mon, 03 Nov 2008 05:59:24 GMT

It's the day before the day before the Americans have their election, and I want to get something off my chest. As a Canadian, when I mention my nationality, a LOT of leftier Americans jokingly ask me if they can come sleep on my couch, or live in my basement, or set up a tent in my backyard. Initially, it made me feel amused and kinda smug. My country is awesomer and everybody wants to live here, yay.

But lately... lately my reaction has been deep sinking gloom or unexpected blazes of anger, and where the Hell did that come from?

I couldn't understand it, but I've been thinking about it a lot. I think I have it now.

Us Canadians had an election recently, too. A relatively quiet do, wouldn't be suprised if nobody else noticed. Hell, some of us might not have noticed. Anyway, a recent article I read said that 15% of Canadians said they would have given up their right to vote in our last election if it meant they could be allowed to vote in the next American election. Which is stupid and crazy and shame on you, 15%, but.... God damn it, I understand the impulse. Because I am Canadian, I like being Canadian, I like voting in Canadian elections... but I really, really wish I could vote in the American election too. The USA is our next-door neighbour, one of our biggest trading partners, our closest ally. Everything that the Americans do influences us. Who the Americans pick as their next president has a HUGE impact on Canada, on the entire rest of the world, and the entire rest of the world can't do anything about it.

I can't do anything about it.

All I can do is bloody WATCH.

It's... sickening. Maddening. Crazy-making. I'm helpless. I'm completely powerless. I'm a citizen of a free democratic country with suffrage who has reached the age of majority, I'm not supposed to ever be powerless, that's the whole POINT. But in this, I am.

And the Americans who want to leave America and live in my crawlspace or whatever... they're not. They're not powerless. And I'm jealous. Not of being American, I don't want to be American, GOD no. Not-that-there's-anything-wrong-with-that, but I LIKE winter and health care and the metric system and spelling neighbour with a 'u'. But I AM jealous of that power, that control. And when they joke about giving that up, running away... I get depressed, and mad. It's not their fault. They're kidding, and paying me and my country a compliment. It's just that I would give so much not to be helpless.

So, to my liberal American friends who have asked or were thinking of asking: No. I'm so, so sorry, but no. I love you, and I'd love to have you, but you can't crash on my couch, or live in my basement, or pitch a tent in my backyard. For three reasons:

1. If I let you in, I'd have to let everyone in who asked, and there is just not enough room.

2. Guys, Canada is not far enough away. Trust me on this. I wish it were, but it's not. All those problems Stateside? They can and do reach us here, and we have plenty of our own. Do you think that economic collapse will stop at the border? That a recession or a depression will hit the fourty-ninth parallel and go WHOA, hold it, too cold for me, take a left and stick to devastating Spokane? That war and terror and bigotry can't touch you here? I wish.

3. Most importantly, I can't let you come here for the very selfish reason that I need you where you are. I need you to stay, and vote, and make sure the good guys win. And if you try, and the bad guys win anyway, I still need you to stay. So that you can FIX it.

Because I can't. I'm way over here. You have to get it for me. I can't reach.

New HallowMini comic!

Tue, 28 Oct 2008 00:47:27 GMT

Because I wanted to be the cool house in my neighbourhood on Halloween, and because I wanted to reward the Trick-or-Treaters who shopped local instead of getting their parents to drive them to the suburbs on Halloween night, I started doing an annual minicomic to hand out at the door with the candy and cookies. After falling off the internet for a couple years, I'm now trying to ease back into webcomicry, and so...

New HallowMini for 2008! Because brains need Halloween candy too! Make sure you click back to read the two previous stories, if you haven't seen them. There's a printable version linked at the end of each comic. Just print and fold to make a book, repeat as necessary for the number of 'treaters you expect to get.

And a small note on this year's comic...

...The critter in "Fetch," for the record, is named Peepers. I really wanted to work that in somehow, but there just wasn't room on his tiny little collar to fit a legible name-tag, and I couldn't work in that shot of an engraved food dish. But his name is Peepers. I wanted you to know.

Should locked my bedroom door and stayed UNDER the bed.

Sat, 18 Oct 2008 07:06:14 GMT

Yesterday I found out that some rather important paperwork got lost in the mail, and as a result the government is under the (mistaken) impression that I owe them four hundred dollars.

Today I totalled my mom's car.

I begin to suspect that the cabbage that savagely bit me on Tuesday was in fact cursed.

I am uncertain what the correct procedure is to reverse the bad luck brought on by a cursed cabbage. The only thing I can think of is that coleslaw should be involved. And perhaps holy water. But would the making of coleslaw frighten away bad-cabbage-luck, or merely further anger the ancient and terrible Elder Cabbage Gods?

For now, I think I shall go to bed with all the covers pulled over my head and whimper for a while.

Shoulda stood in bed.

Wed, 15 Oct 2008 06:22:59 GMT

Today, the Tories won in my riding again, my period started four days early, and at work I was brutally gored by a cabbage.

SUSHI.

Wed, 04 Jun 2008 06:10:37 GMT

GodDAMN but I hate being female sometimes. "Aunt Flo" is being a particular bitch this month. I've had the appetite of an anorexic canary all day, been sick as a bulimic dog all evening, and now, NOW, in the middle of the night, my appetite has suddenly returned with a vengeance.

An oddly specific vengeance. I want sushi. No, that's not right. This requires capitals. And bolded text. I WANT SUSHI. I would currently perform unspeakable acts for a kappamaki. I would break laws written and unwritten for a California roll. If there were a tray of spicy tuna on one side of the room and an enraged rabid grizzly bear dripping bloody froth from her gleaming fangs onto the carpet between myself and said tray, I would launch myself at the bear without hesitation.

And then the bear would eat me and then the tuna, but I would MAKE THE ATTEMPT.

This is a particularly strange compulsion because I don't even LIKE sushi all that much. I've only been out for sushi twice, with friends, and thought it was okay, I guess, sort of. Figured it was an acquired taste, and since there is not a single seller of sushi within an hour's drive from my house, I haven't had much opportunity to acquire it. Except now it seems I HAVE acquired it. Abruptly. Near midnight. At the aforementioned house, with the said sushi sellers the previously stated hour's drive away, and not open. And since I previously had no particular fondness for sushi, there is nothing remotely resembling sushi-making ingredients or equipment anywhere in my house, else I would be frantically rolling, or possibly just devouring whole sheets of nori and drinking rice vinegar straight from the bottle.

I ended up devouring sweet pickles and peanut butter on stoned wheat thins, which for some reason my stomach and ovaries have decided is the closest acceptable sushi substitute among the available options. Don't ask me. Ask the hormones. Geeze, it's like being pregnant. I know I'm not, because A) Like I said, I am currently receiving a visitation from Aunt Flo, and B) I am not nor have I recently received a visitation from the Archangel Gabriel. Which is a damn shame, really, because if I had, I could send the Archangel out to get me some #$!*ING SUSHI.

...I need more pickles.

I wonder what the seppuku rate is for this course...

Mon, 14 Jan 2008 21:57:40 GMT

I just had my first class in "Japanese through Contemporary Texts."

It took me half an hour to translate the sentence "Before reading the main text, please prepare by studying the following words."

....

I am SCREWED.

It's time for another Good Idea, Bad Idea.

Sat, 10 Nov 2007 06:55:23 GMT

Good Idea: New sci-fi series by Joss Whedon, starring Eliza Dushku!

Bad Idea: New sci-fi series by Joss Whedon, starring Eliza Dushku..... on Fox.

Dammit, Joss and Eliza, BOTH of you should know better!

Sigh. I'm sure all seven episodes will be wonderful.

Upon costuming, creativity, and cash

Sun, 04 Nov 2007 18:15:40 GMT

All Hallows Eve has come and gone again for another year. It went well, I think. This year, I was dressed as Pablo Picasso's "Girl Before a Mirror." I'm surprised more people weren't able to guess what I was, in the general if not the specific, given that

A: I had painted my face, neck, upper-chest and shoulders in a cubist style.
B: I was FRAMED (carrying a wooden frame around strapped to my waist and shoulders to hold it in place)
C: I was SIGNED ("Piccasso," on my left shoulder.)

(And yes, I know that's a misspelling, it's hard to sign your own shoulder.)

(...So I didn't. It's Mom's fault.)

(...I love you, Mom. Even if you can't spell.)

But I think only two or three people I saw that day guessed "Picasso painting?" without prompting. Ah, well. Still a better track record than 2004's "Venus de Milo" costume. No, I was NOT naked. (Maybe that was the problem.) I love Halloween, but even I have limits to how far I'm willing to go for a costume. I painted the torso onto a white turtleneck, and painted the sleeves black below the point where her arms are missing.

What surprised me more than how few people figured out what I was was how very, VERY few people were dressed up. I spent the morning's classes half worrying that I'd gotten the date wrong or something, since I didn't see a single other person in costume until noon. Shocking, SHOCKING. People who don't dress up on Halloween are as bad as people who "bah humbug" Christmas. For most adults, this is the one time of year when it's permissible to play dress-up. This is the chance to show off and be whatever it is you want to be that you normally aren't! Why the hell would you willingly pass that up?

One guy gave me the excuse that he "didn't have money" for a costume. I was ASTONISHED. "Costumes don't cost money!!!" was my response. And seriously, the Picasso costume was no money down, this year. I used things that I already had lying around, including the frame, which was a leftover from a previous costume when I was dressed as the Mona Lisa.

He insisted that if you aren't the kind of person who has face-paints lying around, then a costume has to cost money. I said that you can make a costume with whatever you have lying around, even in a non-arty household, cardboard and newspaper and stuff. He rolled his eyes and said yeah, a CRAPPY costume. He'd rather not have a costume at all than be that guy in a cardboard box with "GUNDAM" written on the side.

...Oh, it is ON. It is so on. You know what, random dude? Next year, my costume budget is going to be FIVE BUCKS. Maximum. I will be aiming for less. And I will construct it entirely from scrounged/found/recycled materials which a non-artist could reasonably be expected to have in or around their home. And it will be awesome. And it will strike a blow for every low-budget costumer I have ever seen, from the cardboard-box-Gundam-guy who by the way is much cooler than you because at least he tries and is brave enough to look silly, to that mom with all the socks and stuff stapled to her who explained that she was dressed as static cling, to that girl with a fake black eye covered with sheets of paper with the letter 'P' written on them who got mock-huffy with anyone who failed to realize that she was the Black-Eyed Ps.

Halloween is NOT a luxury. And you don't get to use that excuse. Next year. Just you wait.

Nice birdy...

Mon, 04 Jun 2007 07:24:34 GMT

Taking a walk around the lake, I was struck by how different people's reactions to wildlife can be. A few weeks ago, ursulav posted to her lj about a bobcat sighting in LA, and how her agent's response was to freak out and ask if she had a gun.

My reaction to THAT was indignance. Probably because I did most of my growing up, and still live, in a semi-rural area in the foothills. I was taught from a very early age the various conflicting theories regarding how to deal with BEARS. ("Make noise!" "Don't make noise!" "Play dead!" "They're freakin' carrion eaters!" "Climb a tree!" "Dude, the bear's a better climber than you'll ever be." The general consensus I've managed to glean is stay calm and try not to look edible.) The neighbourhood cork-board holds missives regarding community picnics, babysitters for hire, and recent cougar sightings.

We supposedly have bobcats and lynxes, but I've never seen one, because the things are nocturnal and skittish as hell. They eat VOLES. And bunnies. I'm bigger than a bunny. I figure I have very little to fear from the smaller wildcats, so long as I don't try to pet one or something.

Ditto for the coyotes. Every so often I get a mass-e-mailing from the university saying "ALERT! A coyote has been sighted near campus! Remain calm!"

You see a lot of coyotes in my neighbourhood. Most coyotes you'll meet are smart, lazy opportunists. They want maximum food for minimum effort. Generally, standing your ground and looking stern convinces them that bugging you is too much work:

******************

Coyote: (wanders into campsite looking hopeful)

Me: "Don't even THINK about it."

Coyote: (wanders off looking resigned)

******************

So yeah, the animals that seem to freak out the city-mouse folk? Don't really frighten me.

The animals that do?

Geese.

Canada geese.

Don't laugh. We have a big flock near here, and while I like 'em well enough, I would never cross the beasties. Those suckers are MEAN. And cranky. And they could break your arm with a wing. I have never met a single person who has been attacked by a coyote. But I had a friend who was chased all the way home on her bike by an angry goose. Apparently, the sound of a bike horn bears a remarkable resemblance to goose language for "Up yours, pillow stuffing! Your mother humps mallards!" The translation is approximate, of course, but extrapolating from the gander's reaction, it's pretty close.

And CITY geese are worse. They're even less afraid of people, and they'll just stand in front of you, blocking the sidewalk and honking menacingly.

I find myself using those techniques I learned for dealing with bears: Chattering in a polite friendly manner while backing slowly away...

******************

Me: Good evening!

Goose: HONK.

Me: Yes, and a very nice honk to you too.

Goose: HONK.

Me: Nice honk we're having, isn't it?

Goose: (flaps wings threateningly)

Me: Oh god please don't hurt me.

******************

So, those were my thoughts as I was walking my dog past the lake, trying to keep him from chasing them and thus inviting aquatic avian retribution. A country upbringing gives you a very different perspective on wildlife threat assessment.

Here goes nothing...

Sat, 31 Mar 2007 17:27:08 GMT

Gleep. Well, I have finally decided to cave and get a Livejournal account. Darnit. One more thing to which I will have to remember the password to and probably won't have time to update. Ah, well.

I am quite certain no one is reading this. If you are... well, good grief. Um, hello. Where did YOU come from? I was't really expecting company at this stage, but let me see if I can find you a nice cup of tea or something.