Contents May Be Graphic
I got off pretty easily last night when I said what I’m in the process of reading. Joel is pretty popular at the book club, so reading one of his books is an instant get-out-of-jail-free card. Besides, there was another issue far greater than my slacker ways. Graphic novels. Someone was talking about Alan Moore’s Watchmen.
It quickly became obvious there was something bordering on contempt for graphic novels among a large proportion of the group. I was a little shocked by that. The usual expectation is that science fiction / fantasy readers tend more toward open-mindedness, so to see the outright dismissal of graphic novels as being only for men who never grew up came as something of a surprise.
I suspect most people who have an interest in fantasy have at least once had someone call their preference escapism, or looked down on in some way as being somehow less worthy than mainstream or literary works. It saddened me a little to see it happen in a place where I would never have expected to find that attitude. I’ll be honest. I’ve never read a graphic novel. I’m thinking about giving it a go. I know a lot of people who enjoy them. Not all of them men, and not all of them clinging to a lost adolescence.
There’s nothing inherently inferior about any medium whether I like it or not.
Holy Propagandist, Batman!
Fortunately I live in a country beyond the Patriot Act’s reach, otherwise I might just think twice about what I’m about to post. Oh who am I kidding. I’m lucky if I ever think once about what I write. That’s half the fun.
So anyway, I was wandering the internet aimlessly because I put the pro in procrastination when I came across an article illuminating the secret similarities between Batman and Bush. Yes that’s right folks, all those years ago Bob Kane looked to the future and made it his personal mission in life to pave the way for George W. Bush Jr. He carefully concocted Batman in order to make the War on Terror he saw coming our way that little bit less unpalatable.
The article also cites other movies as embracing right-wing conservatism at its finest. 300, Narnia, Spiderman 3 (but not 1 or 2?) and Lord of the Rings to be precise. I’ll acknowledge that if ever there was an ancient civilisation which would have embraced George Bush and his views on international relations it would have been Sparta, I should also add these stories (including — arguably — Spiderman 3) also predate George W. Bush Jr’s terms in the White House.
This is a case of making the evidence fit a theory. Much has been ignored in order to push the personal beliefs of the person writing the article. Or did I miss Batman’s invasion of a Middle-Eastern country in among the actual crime fighting?
This is exactly why high school English classes failed to set me up properly for my adult life. The interpretation of artistic works is so frequently entirely dependent upon what the viewer or reader expects, or believes themselves.
And personally, if I was Christian, that sideways implication that in the aftermath of the WTC attack the answer to the eternal WWJD question was, invade two foreign nations would be a little offensive.
Sick, and Not in a Good Way
I’d been really looking forward to my lunch today. I’d planned to treat myself to a ham-and-cottage-cheese sandwich on my favourite oatbran-and-honey bread. Yes, I know, it’s not on the recommended eating list for people with my particular flavour of chronic intestinal distress but everything’s calm in my innards at the moment and by God I wanted a treat.
I got out the ham and the butter and the cottage cheese. I buttered two slices of bread. I peeled back the foil seal keeping my cottage cheese good. I grimaced.
Dotted through my cottage cheese I saw green chunks. My first thought was, ew, it’s off. But it didn’t stink. That seemed odd. Against my better judgement I leaned in closer and sniffed. There was a strange smell to be sure but it didn’t smell like overripe dairy goods. I looked at the outside of the container. Well, I thought, there’s your problem. That’s no ordinary cottage cheese. It comes with gherkin.
Gherkin didn’t feature in my fantasy sandwich. Not only that, it made the cottage cheese look nasty. Straight into the bin with that and I had to made do with an ordinary ham sandwich.
But that pisses me off. Who came up with the idea of putting gherkin into cottage cheese and only putting the tiniest warning on the side of the tub? It should have been there in big, red letters. WARNING! THIS PRODUCT CONTAINS GHERKIN!
It’s not that I don’t like gherkin. In fact, I think gherkin is arguably the only part of a MacDonald’s hamburger worth eating. That doesn’t mean I want to have it sneaked into my food via cottage cheese, or any other dairy product. Gherkin is a conscious-decision food. That was not a conscious decision.
Why is it even necessary? Surely if you want gherkin on your sandwich you can get a gherkin and put it on your sandwich. It’s not like you’re being asked to grow, harvest and pickle the thing yourself. Is the time it takes to fish out and slice up a gherkin really going to be the difference between having time to eat your lunch and not having time to eat your lunch?
Honestly, I think I would have been less disturbed if those green chunks had been off cottage cheese.
The Wonders of Technology
Sometimes I assume certain things go without saying. For example, if you run a business and that business has an outgoing call centre I would assume you would look into the best way to get your telemessage out to as many receptive ears as possible. Now admittedly my ears are not receptive to telemessages at the best of times but usually I try to be polite about it. No, thank you. You have a nice day too.
When my phone rings it usually interrupts me when I’m in the middle of something. That’s fine, you can’t know that unless you have access to Super Spy Satellites or know the frequency for the little chip in my brain. So I’m not happy about being interrupted but I can set that aside.
Where you really lose me is when I pick up the phone only to be greeted by a bland computer voice. The computer voice assures me you have an important piece of information for me, which you’ll share if only I hold the line until one of your operators becomes available. At which point I hang up. I have no compunction whatsoever about hanging up on a computer. Your important message will never reach my ears and do you know why?
When I call you, if your operators are busy that’s my problem not yours. I rang at a time when a lot of other people were also ringing. I’ll willingly hold until someone is freed up. When you call me I expect things to be a little different. I don’t call people and then when they pick up say, oh can you just hold on, I’ve got someone on the other line.
Here’s a little bit of truth for you. Yours is not the call I eagerly await.
I will not hold the line while I wait for someone to try and sell me something I don’t want. Whatever software you’re using to dial people and then drop them in a queue, get rid of it. Least effective marketing strategy ever.
Who Locked the Dog In
The person in the unit next to us has visitors today. Normally that wouldn’t be an issue to me but today, today I’m actually a little outraged. Not by the fact my neighbour has guests and I don’t because personally I prefer not to have guests. No, I’m outraged by the guests themselves.
They brought a dog with them, one of those little rat-looking things but with the long fur not the short. Again, wouldn’t be a problem for me normally. In fact I like most dogs better than I like most people. And today provides a shining example as to why. You see, as the visitors sit inside their hostess’s unit and enjoy comfort, company and a toilet, the poor little long-haired rodent is stuck out in the car, yapping its fuzzy little ring off.
I’m not perfectly sure what to do about it. If it was summer I’d feel perfectly justified if I were to knock on the front door and tell them I thought they were wretched examples of humanity and should never have been allowed a dog in the first place. In fact I would have felt perfectly justified in calling the RSPCA and getting the poor thing rescued. But it’s not summer. There’s no immediate, obvious health concern for the dog. The truth is, I just think it’s mean. I also don’t understand why, instead of leaving it in the car, they couldn’t have put it out in the back courtyard. It’s obviously not happy where it is, or it wouldn’t have spent the last 2 hours barking non-stop.
I hope it shits on the driver’s seat.
Here there be Pirates
I feel like one of those people back in Columbus’s time who somehow had no idea he’d discovered the world was not, in fact, flat. This isn’t because I personally am backwards. Although, you know, it could be argued that way. No, my sense that I’ve been sitting still while the rest of the world ran by comes from the TV I’m subjected to.
The free-to-air channels in Australia are notorious for mishandling its shows. We’re almost always at least a year behind the US (or UK for UK shows). When the channels do finally get around to airing the shows they’re often interrupted, on for a couple of weeks, then some repeats, then some sport, then maybe a new episode or two…
The reason for my trip to the top of my soapbox today is a little show called Dexter. The pilot aired last Sunday here and as I understand it the States have finished watching season 2. That’s crap. It’s also indicative of why filesharing of TV shows is so prevalent. Not that I’m admitting to anything, of course.
It’s a never ending source of frustration for me, hearing about these apparently awesome shows but knowing I’ll have to wait at least several months to see them. Technology makes these things available in the internet within hours of their first airing. Why, then, with all of the resources at their disposal, can the major channels here not get their hands on them?
If studios and channels want an end to piracy, they need to treat their viewers better.
I’m Sensing a Smell…
The things I do in the interest of finding something to talk about. I just got done watching the second episode of The One: The Search for Australia’s Most Gifted Psychic. I’ve come away with the kind of nasty taste in my mouth I associate with hangovers.
I wouldn’t call myself a sceptic. I do believe there are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy. That more or less automatically precludes me from naming myself a sceptic. I am a questioner in search of decent answers.
In the One, I saw no answers, only a great deal of hot air. I saw people passing themselves off as psychics who, in reality, specialised in generalisations and reading body language. Guided by smiles and nods or frowns and crossed arms they navigated their cold readings with relative ease. Remove the physical presence of other humans and they floundered.
If the One was a book I would have thrown it at the wall.
iFrenzy
So the iPhone went on sale in Australia today. Truly a landmark occasion. In the future, when people say to me, “where were you when the iPhone first became legally available in Australia?” I know what I’ll tell them. I was at home, not giving a crap.
Weeping won’t change my mind, Brendan.
Now I like Apple stuff. I like my iPod. I like my MacBook. Okay, I love my MacBook. But the iPhone? Totally not worth it. That’s right, you heard it here first. I have failed to fall to my knees and worship at the altar of Steve Jobs. And you know why? Because it’s totally not worth it.
The iPhone may well be the most awesome phone ever made. It may be the most awesome phone ever to be made. I don’t have one, so I couldn’t say for sure. But an 8 Gig iPhone will set you back $729, and a 16 Gig costs $849. Then you’ve got your monthly plans on top of that. No phone is worth the kind of money those monthly plans will set you back. But you know what? People are salivating over them.
I weep for the species.
Evil Walks Among You
I’m sitting at my desk, gnawing on the end of my pen and staring at a blank piece of paper. It’s not that I lack direction. I can actually see the sentences form in my head. Some of them have even defied overwhelming odds and are grammatically correct. I know, will wonders never cease?
What could possibly be keeping me from spewing my golden prose?
I look out the window and I see a sight which should set me to whooping with a glee that surpasses fully-formed words. It’s hosing down out there. The farmers would be thrilled if there actually were any in the middle of Adelaide.
I’m no farmer. I’m a person who has somewhere to be tonight and the rain doesn’t look like it has plans to stop. I’ve got a book club to attend. I’ve been looking forward to it ever since I found the book I last reviewed because I just *know* they haven’t done it yet. What I’m not looking forward to is showing up looking like a very cold drowned rat. I think that will dent my credibility somewhat, you know?
The drought has left me with this odd sot of guilt reaction when rain inconveniences me because, well, I should be happy it’s raining. It’s good for the farmers. In fact, I should be so happy the intensity of my joy causes me to … whatever it is painfully happy people do. I’m not. I’m looking out the window and thinking, it’s the middle of winter and I’m going to get freakin’ soaked.
I’m truly a wretched example of humanity.
Quality Control
I’ve been hesitant to post this because as an aspiring writer I could come off as a little self-serving. But something has been playing on my mind lately and that’s book quality. You hear a lot (if you know where to listen) about the decline in quality from a writer (or band). Often the first release is touted as their greatest work and it all just slides downhill from there.
Up-and-coming writers have to work so hard on their debut novels. There’s so much blood, sweat and tears in a single draft the faint of heart simply never make their way through. These debut novels can take years to perfect and get published. Then the pressure is on to release another, and another, and another… The quality is bound to slide when you turn an artist into a production line.
Take Monster-Blood Tattoo (D.M. Cornish) as an example. Two years elapsed between the release of book one (Foundling) and book two (Lamplighter). I’ll confess, I was a little impatient. I wanted to get my hands on book two as soon as I was done with book one, if not sooner. But I had to wait, just like the rest of the world and guess what? Book two was brilliant. It was well worth the wait. If it had been churned out in half the time it would have been less than half as good. So I’m waiting for book three (Factotum) as patiently as I can.
Another part of the problem is the big-name effect. Publishers will pounce on a new title by the big-name, established writers and I can understand why. They have a track record. They are established as guaranteed sellers.
Set aside, for a moment, the fact I’m a person who would very much like to be published.
As a reader, I end up disappointed. Some of the best books I’ve read have been from new writers, people who have been required to earn that shelf space.
Do you know what I think would be awesome? Hold every manuscript to the same standard you would require from a debut author. Yes, that would mean writers have to work harder. Some may burn out after only a few books. But others will thrive and do you know what else? The books we read will improve tremendously.