The Cynical Dog

Oh. There My Pants Are . . .

2008-07-31T13:05:00.008-05:00

I can’t remember what drove me to start this blog—I probably wanted to comment on someone else’s, but couldn’t because I didn’t have an account. In the past I actually dismissed blogging as a superfluous bit of attention-whoring. If you need to journal, I thought, then just do it. There’s no need to hold it up for everyone to see unless you’re just in need of attention. But then, after grad school when I had lost my most immediate connections to my peers, I decided to look them up online.

Since I can’t control my urge to comment on everything (which has to make it frustrating for people having a nearby conversation I’m not involved in) I started making wisecracks in the comments of the blogs I found. And then I decided to open up shop on my own platform for making wisecracks.

Initially my intent for the Cynical Dog was that it would be a place where I could express all of the crazy ideas and frustrations that clutter my thoughts and make it difficult for me to concentrate on my serious writing. For a while, it worked. For a while I managed to produce the occasional post that expressed my real thoughts, that used my creativity and skill with language, and that presented my perspective. But then things changed.

After I left grad school I knew the path life would take: I’d get married, I’d work to pay the bills while looking for adjunct teaching jobs, and I’d bide my time until Michele finished her undergrad and figured out where she was going to grad school. Knowing what was in store was little comfort when I finally faced the situation: the wedding went well, the marriage is a good one, but everything else turned out less satisfying. The job I had bored me. I couldn’t get any teaching work. Not knowing where I’d be in a year started eating at me. My attitude, and my blog posts, degenerated.

Instead of thoughtful (if lighthearted) posts about the Renaissance Festival or the Demon Nephew’s birthday I started posting brief, ill-conceived updates, quiz results, YouTube links, and—worst of all—whining. I was ashamed to even log on, so when I did I spent as little time and thought on posting as I possibly could. The longer I did this the worse it got.

Life moved on, though. Michele finished school and we moved. I started teaching again and made some serious adjustments. In a lot of ways I’m in better shape—mentally and emotionally—than I ever have been. But I still can’t seem to shake this general funk. The possibility of full-time teaching work both buoyed me and tortured me over the last nine months. Now that’s done. All the applying, the interviewing, the waiting—it gained me nothing except in experience with those three things.

It’s easy for me to be overwhelmed. Chaos disrupts my mind in profound ways, to the point where I can’t think straight. I know this. I’ve known it for a long time, but it’s a self-perpetuating problem. When my brain spins out of control because of the craziness of my life, I can’t put two thoughts together to get myself out of it. Except that sometimes I do. Another thing I learned a long time ago is that trying to feel better only starts with trying to fix one thing and concentrating on it until I can move on. I can pick one thing and decrease the chaos by a little bit.

Last year I started the vegetarian process and now I’m done with all meat. That was one thing I could fix and I did. Failing to land a full-time teaching job has complicated my efforts to stabilize us financially, but I can still work on that now. So much is in flux, I just need to find the parts I can handle right now. World domination will have to wait.

Another thing I’ve learned is that the more I dwell on the past (and I’m a dweller) the less effective I am. So I’ve learned to bracket what’s come before so I can operate. So that’s what I’m doing now. This blog is done. I’ll leave it up, and I’ll leave comments open, but I’m moving on.

I’m still Cynical (and cynical), and I’m still dog-like, but from here on out I’ll be blogging here.

Addendum: I tried a number of ways to make my blogging life more satisfying, like starting my other blog to compartmentalize my philosophical ramblings, but it didn't work. That blog is also likely to just stop. All posts that would have gone there will also be part of my new blog. Because it's me.

Feels Like the End

2008-07-28T15:10:00.004-05:00

Well, it does. Because it is. It's the end of the summer term at Rose State College, so today I turned in the grades for my lone section of Fundamentals of English. It was an interesting term, and I'll give you the breakdown:

We had eight weeks to cover sixteen weeks worth of material. We had the same number of class meetings that we would in a normal semester, but instead of twice a week we met four times a week. The classroom time was not a problem, but the students' out-of-class work time and information processing time was seriously truncated.
I had thirteen people registered when I last checked before the term started. I had ten on my roster the first day of class. I had eight on my final roster, and I never saw three of those. One dropped the first week of class and another stopped showing up on the last week of class.
I had one day with only one student present.
I had one day with only zero students present.
Since this was a developmental class, it was great that I was able to give them so much one-on-one time. Unfortunately, these students were true developmental students and had the usual problem of unpreparedness. The one-on-one time could have been more productive.

So now I'm getting ready for Fall semester. I have five sections at two colleges: one Comp I, three Comp II, and one Intro to Philosophy. I haven't taught any of these courses at the schools where I'm going to teach them, so I have four preps. This should be interesting.

But now I'm faced with a decision I haven't wanted to make: do I pursue my interests or do I meet my obligations? There was hope through the summer that I'd be able to do both, but that hope died. Actually, the death of that hope has changed me. I'm still going to teach, because that's the only work I've ever done that I think was worth my time, but my inability to parlay my qualifications and general personability into full-time teaching means I'll have to take other work, too. At least for the short term.

So this feels like the end of hope, too. And at the end of the month I'll put this blog to rest and start the next one.

A Couple of Books

2008-07-27T07:39:00.003-05:00

After the Fire by Paul Zimmer

I wasn't terribly interested in this book when I heard Paul Zimmer was coming to Mankato for a Good Thunder reading in 2002. It was my last year of undergrad and I was finally taking my required poetry workshop with Dick Terrill. Dick arranged for Zimmer to meet with our class before the reading and I couldn't have been less interested. A visit by a poet from Wisconsin who meant to read and discuss a book of essays he'd written about his retirement? No thanks.

But then Zimmer showed up to speak, and my opinion quickly changed. He was witty and engaging, humble and--strangest of all--interesting. He read some poems and took some questions. He seemed like a fun uncle.

Later, at the reading, I was impressed even more by his essays. I hadn't planned to buy his book, but I did anyway, and got him to sign it. Then I promptly forgot to read it. Grad school got in the way, as did the chaos of the last couple of years.

I'm glad I finally read it, though. Whether he's writing about his retirement in Wisconsin, vacations in France, his military service, or his observations of wildlife, he infuses his work with a clarity of recall, a sharp analysis, and a poetic (duh) expression of detail. Compelling stories.

Homeland by R.A. Salvatore

Another nail in the coffin of my connection to sword-and-sorcery fantasy. In my early adult years I ate up stories like this, with a protagonist I liked and just enough exotic setting to distract me from my own life.

Rereading this almost twenty years later I'm faced with a fairly interesting, if underdeveloped, protagonist, exposition infecting every element of the narration (including the dialogue), and the barest attempt at physical detail. This was one of Salvatore's early works, and I know TSR wasn't all that demanding of its authors in those days, but this is really shoddy.

I'm debating whether to commit any more time to its sequels. Or to fantasy in general. I'm leaning toward "not."

It's Just One of Those Days

2008-07-25T15:46:00.002-05:00

This blog is likely to end soon, because the person who started it doesn't exist anymore. He died of disappointment and disgust. In his place is a surly, nasty human being who can't even go to the grocery store without finding more to hate in humanity.

I've had it.

Another Video of the Moment or Several Germans

2008-07-21T14:38:00.004-05:00

The first is Scanner, a German power metal band who liked the science fiction. "Warp 7" is probably the best song on their album Hypertrace.

How about a recent rendition of Kreator's "People of the Lie."

Or Rage's ode to the misfit werewolf?

Okay, just three this time.

I'm Sorry You Feel That Way by Diana Joseph

2008-07-20T08:48:00.003-05:00

There's nothing I can say about this book that hasn't already been said better by Very Important People, but I will add my endorsement. The essays in this book are funny, neurotic, and emotionally moving.

Plus, it includes a dog having "relations" with a vocal stuffed animal. You can't lose.

It won't be on store shelves until March 2009, but I'll remind you of it then, too.

Okay, I'm a Nerd, Too

2008-07-16T19:03:00.001-05:00

But I'm a weird one. I'm clearly a reader-geek.

The Cover

2008-07-14T14:52:00.005-05:00

So the New Yorker printed a cover of Barack Obama, and it was a stupid one. There's been a huge uproar about it, and for various reasons. Here's one take from Obama's staff:

The New Yorker may think, as one of their staff explained to us, that their cover is a satirical lampoon of the caricature Senator Obama's right-wing critics have tried to create. But most readers will see it as tasteless and offensive. And we agree.

I guess I'm not most readers. I don't see this as tasteless or offensive. I see it as stupid. But seriously--I'm as avid a supporter of Obama as there is, but this really isn't a comment on anything but the good sense of the New Yorker.

Here's the likely reaction of the Obama supporter: The New Yorker is being mean! I'll stop reading it.

And the McCain Supporter: I knew he was a Mohammedan! To war!

And the Clinton supporter: Okay, we used some slimy tactics. Why didn't ours get in the New Yorker?

I suppose there are people stupid enough to accept the cover for what it says, but let's face it: they were either conservative or New Yorker employees to begin with. Not exactly Mensa material here.

The Hand of Oberon by Roger Zelazny

2008-07-13T00:04:00.003-05:00

The further I get into this series the better it gets. At this point it's clear to me that the five books trace a single story arc, rather than each book having its own. If these were published now they'd be a single volume with the heft of a Robert Jordan epic.

The action is picking up, the intrigue is great, and all the complexity that Zelazny has put in place over four novels now comes to a head--just like you'd expect at the climax of a single novel. I really like the story, but now I'm met with a roadblock. I don't have the fifth installment--I have the sixth.

Oh, and I saw the Ganelon thing coming on two hundred pages ago.

New Video of the Moment

2008-07-10T15:02:00.002-05:00

The latest addition to "Video of the Moment" is an odd choice. The band is named A.S.A.P., which stands for Adrian Smith and Project. The Adrian Smith in question had, to that point, been the lead guitarist of Iron Maiden (sing along with me, Dave . . . "Ruuun toooo the hiiiiiillls. Ruun fooor your liiiiiives). Then he did this solo album of sorts, and I figured it was worth a listen.

I'd expected some watered-down Maidenish fluff, but it turns out the album was completely different. More mainstream rock, but with an edge, and with a lot of grit--and, as it turns out, Smith is a pretty good vocalist. I liked it a lot. I almost wore out my cassette (yes, I'm that old--this was 1989). And when it occurred to me to look for it on YouTube I giggled. Out loud.

And then I found it. And here it is: "Fallen Heroes".

I really like this.

For the Guys at EotAW

2008-07-08T16:11:00.004-05:00

My PS skillz are terrible, but so is the image I conjured. So here's the product:

I'm terribly sorry, but I won't pay for therapy. If I could, do you think I'd have done this in the first place?

I'm Not Alone!

2008-07-08T07:36:00.003-05:00

In the comments of my post about the presidents of my lifetime, Dave and I had a quick exchange about the relative merits of Ronald Reagan. I was the last to post (because I can't shut up), and I insisted that Jimmy Carter was a better president than Teflon Ron because Reagan was eeeeeeevil. Today in the Washington Post, Richard Cohen has a column discussing one aspect of why I think those things. Here's an exerpt:

This is the doleful legacy of Reaganism. We have become a nation that believes that you can get something for nothing. We thought that the energy crisis would be solved . . . somehow, and that no one would have to suffer. We still believe in the magical qualities of America, that something about us makes us better. Yet we have a chaotic and mediocre education system that desperately needs more money and higher standards, but we think -- don't we? -- that somehow we will maintain our lifestyle anyway. Hey, is this America or what?

That paragraph is more an indictment of fiscally-conservative, laissez faire economic policy than it is specifically of Reagan, but Reagan has become the icon of that sort of flawed thinking. And that's not to say that this is all true because I think so and Richard Cohen apparently agrees with me, and it certainly doesn't mean that Dave is deluded on the subject of presidential merit (the "discussion" was more like neighbors exchanging hellos from their respective cars while paused at a traffic light than a real exploration of ideas), but I still think Carter was better than Reagan.

But I could be wrong.

Two Books

2008-07-06T10:40:00.007-05:00

Land of Amber Waters by Doug Hoverson

This is the book Michele got me for our anniversary. It's more than just a book about beer and brewing--it's really the story of how and under what conditions Minnesota became what it is. It tracks immigration patterns, ethnic influences, and government policy from the 1840s to the present, and the discussion of how our culture has regarded beer, and alcohol in general, over the last 170 years. It's a fascinating read, and there are lots of pictures. I'd recommend it to anyone curious about Minnesota history.

Juneteeth by Ralph Ellison

This is the novel Ellison never finished to his satisfaction. His widow arranged for its publication after his death in 1994, and it was handled well. And there's merit to its publication. Ellison's talent with language is undeniable here, and he's dealing with weighty ideas in an interesting way. But the end of the story is pretty ragged, and the several elements of the narrative aren't fused all that well.

Happy Fourth of July

2008-07-04T11:54:00.007-05:00

While I find it hard to get sentimental about random dates that may or may not really represent anything, I don't mind taking a few moments to acknowledge that, flawed as it is, the country I live in is the most successful experiment in democratic government thus far.

I did my bit in the military:

I fixed these things: And, in general, kept Key West safe from Saddam Hussein and excess rum. Now I'll do my part by wearing a festive shirt and watching fake rockets blow up in the Norman sky. And eat food.

And I'll celebrate the death of one of America's most evil products ever: Jesse Helms. For your listening pleasure, here's MC Stephen Hawking's song "Why Won't Jesse Helms Just Hurry Up And Die?" He can't "take that punk bitch Strom Thurmond with" him, because Thurmond's been feeding worms for five years already.

Yep--today America's a better place.

Meet Your Oklahoma City SuperSonics

2008-07-03T15:19:00.005-05:00

It was announced that the city of Seattle made a deal with Clay Bennett, owner of the Sonics, so he could move the team to Oklahoma City. You'd think I'd welcome that, since the NBA is the only sports entity that even interests me a little, but I don't.

You see, I grew up a Minnesota sports fan. I was a North Stars fan when Norm Green stole the team away. I was a Twins fan through every bout of extortion, when the team's owners--whoever they were at the time--demanded a new stadium or they'd leave. I was there when the Vikings and the Timberwolves did the same thing. This is one of the primary reasons I don't pay much attention to sports anymore. The billionaire owners constantly hold cities hostage for updated facilities, threatening to take the team elsewhere if their demands aren't met.

Now Clay Bennett did it to Seattle. They wouldn't build him a new arena so he's bringing the Sonics here, uprooting forty-one years of basketball history and separating the team from the fans who have a real attachment, a real emotional investment, in it. They're not just wallets seeking a business opportunity--they're people who've formed a real bond with their local sports team.

So even though I'd like to watch pro basketball in person, I won't give Clay Bennett or his soulless partners a penny. I'd like to see Kevin Garnett come to town, but I won't support an organization that would stoop to these tactics.

I'll drive to Dallas and watch the Celtics play the Mavericks if I have to.

I've never been to Seattle, and I don't think I know anyone there. But I know how much this eats at them. Clay Bennett is garbage. He won't get my business.

UPDATE: I've just learned that Mark Cuban, owner of the Dallas Mavericks, was one of two owners to vote against the Seattle Robbery. I've always liked Cuban, because he's intelligent, articulate, passionate, and insane. Now I really like him. We might need to plan several trips to Dallas. I'm sure Michele will go along.

Hiding M&Ms in a Lamb

2008-07-01T15:44:00.003-05:00

This video cracked me up. I like the song a lot, but this interpretation is pretty funny (with a couple of lame exceptions--"time" misheard as "thyme," etc.).

Here's the funniness:

And here are the real lyrics.

I can't stop chuckling.

Since I Was Born

2008-06-30T15:32:00.004-05:00

I'm not terribly old, no matter what my ankles say every morning. I should have at least a little more life than I've passed already. But I've seen some shitty presidents in my time. In fact, my political personality seems to have been constructed in opposition to what I've seen.

When I was born, Richard Nixon was president. Enough said.

The next president was his accidental Veep, Gerald Ford. Good criminy--I've been alive for six years, and I'm still stuck with Republicans? This sucks.

Finally we get a decent human being in the White House in 1976, a Democrat named Jimmy Carter. Unfortunately, he's so tied down by conservative mismanagement he can't get anything done. Fortunately for conservatives, Ronald Reagan is making illegal deals with all kinds of people, like terrorists in Iran, to win the election in 1980.

In 1980 Reagan wins. I didn't even understand what was happening, but I somehow knew this was bad. Turns out Reagan spends eight years tripling the federal deficit while encouraging people to be greedy. Holy crap. Eight years of disaster.

In 1988 I get to vote for the first time. That means the guy I didn't vote for--George H.W. Bush--wins the election. Great. The Reagan years are extended without the Reagan personality, which means the presidency is both empty and bland.

My absentee ballot never showed up in 1992, but I was happy to see Bill Clinton elected president that year. Too bad the Republicans went into roadblock mode in 1994. And too bad Slick Willy couldn't keep his pants on. He was the best president of my lifetime so far and his tenure is sullied by silly shit.

And the conservatives were so outraged that in 2000 George W. Bush, the least qualified human being possible, took office at 1600 Pennsylvania Ave. He didn't win, but he became the first Presidunce.

And in 2004 a bunch of halfwits and victims of hypnotism voted for Dubya, and he won again.

Good criminy I hope in 2008 we can do better. I hope we can elect someone with some sense, some semblance of ability. I hope we can get past the ridiculous lies.

Really there is only one choice. Obama.

McCain is an idiot. I'll write more about that soon. But for now, I have to say this: we need to reject the culture of greed promulgated by Reaganomics, we need to stop the deception perfected by the Nixon administration, we need to reject the lame-ass policies of the Ford and Bush administrations. In short, we need to reject the conservatism of the last forty years because it is ineffective, unrealistic, and divisive.

I don't think John McCain is a bad man. I just think he'd be a terrible choice for president.

Some Updates

2008-06-29T11:51:00.004-05:00

It's been busy around here for the past couple of weeks, and I've tried to post a few times on a few topics, but I haven't had the ambition, really. Here are some random thoughts:

I was putting together a long post about George Carlin, and it was too maudlin and it was boring me. Suffice it to say, the two pop-culture entities that most influenced me when I was a teenager were Monty Python and George Carlin. The Pythons gave me a model for embracing absurdity and Carlin exposed my lifelong alienation as natural in a culture as ridiculous as this one, and expressed exactly what I was feeling in ways that helped me accept it.
I had another job interview on Friday. It came up suddenly, and I had to prepare a teaching presentation in a shorter time than I'd have liked. The interview went well, though, so now it's back to waiting.
Michele and I celebrated our second anniversary last Tuesday. Michele wrote about it here. We went to a restaurant in OKC and I got this amazing filet of tilapia, and had a glass of a really good pinot gris. Then we went home and watched The Spiderwick Chronicles. Talk about a wild celebration. Sly called in the middle of dinner, so I said I'd call him back. I haven't called yet, though. I owe him a call.
Michele's brother and his family stopped by unexpectedly on Monday. Their three kids are like a tornado, so it seems like we don't get to visit as much as our time together would suggest, but it was good to see them.
I have a lot of thoughts about the NBA draft, and maybe I'll write a post about that soon, but for now I'll just say that I'm of two minds. I think what the Timberwolves needed was a solid seven-footer to start at the five so Jefferson could be more effective at power forward, and the only asset they got in that regard was Jason Collins, in the trade with Memphis. On the other hand, I like what Kevin Love brings to the team, and Mike Miller should be a solid asset. Eh. Not a bad draft, but nothing to be too excited about.
Since we've lived in Norman we've met a lot of people who brew their own beer. I think the funky Oklahoma blue laws have created a fixation among some people here. For our anniversary Michele bought me a book about the history of brewing in Minnesota. The book is fascinating, and because of that my reading of Ellison's Juneteenth has slowed to a crawl.
It's hot here, and it's getting hotter.

That's about all I have to say right now. Maybe soon I can be more entertaining and/or interesting. Right now I just feel worn out.

Pluggin' Like the Little Dutch Boy

2008-06-27T19:12:00.004-05:00

My friend Diana is going to have her book published next January. I got to read an early copy of the manuscript, and it's funny as hell. Plus, Diana's a sweetheart, and she makes a wicked batch of cheesecake thingies.

Check out her book's blog. It costs you nothing and could help the site get enough exposure for mysterious benefits to accrue to her.

I'll be posting some interesting things soon. Honest.

Aw, hell.

2008-06-23T07:37:00.002-05:00

Comedian George Carlin Dies in Los Angeles at 71

More later. If I can bear it.

Adventures With Food

2008-06-22T12:02:00.009-05:00

It's a new record: for just over ten months I've been on a pescetarian diet, and with a few exceptions I've stuck to it. In fact, there have been four times in the past ten months that I've eaten land-based meat: the accidental meatball (mentioned in the comments here, my Olive Garden memory lapse*, the surprise potatoes**, and last Thanksgiving (which was the only one of these that was premeditated). I've never been able to do this for more than a couple days before, and I think that my success this time is due to taking it in small steps. Allowing myself fish and seafood has made the transition easier.

Another thing that's made this easier is Asian food. We've improvised a lot of our meals, altered them from the way we've eaten our whole lives: spaghetti with no meat, chili with a lot of beans, grilled veggie sandwiches. More helpful, though, has been our increasing reliance on East Asian and South Asian food, especially Indian.

Some time ago Anskov suggested a cookbook written by his friend Suvir Saran. I used some of my birthday money to pick up a copy last week, because when we looked through it in the store we liked the recipes and it seemed like something even I could use (read: simple).
Last night I made the Simple Lentil Dal with Cumin and Dried Red Chiles*** on page 27. It turned out pretty well, even though I'm a three-assed monkey in the kitchen, and even though I did some things that endangered the project's success.

First of all, I didn't include the chilies because a) Michele can't eat really spicy stuff and I wanted to start safe, and b) we didn't see any dried red chilies in any of the stores we were in yesterday. Also, I used ancho pepper instead of cayenne due to a miscommunication Michele and I had a few weeks ago. As a result, the dish was much blander than Mr. Saran must have intended. It was still good, though, and as soon as I stop sabotoging the recipe I'm sure it will turn out better.

The second problem I had derives from my multi-ass monkitude. I burned the tarka before mixing it in, so I'm sure that threw the flavor off. Char instead of spice, and all that. In my defense, there's very little time to think when the tarka is cooking, so it's easy for a three-assed monkey to mess it up.

It's good that I'm figuring this out now, because in two months it will have been a year since I gave up land meat. On that anniversary I plan to go full vegetarian. If my actions can match my convictions as well this time around, that is.

* I ordered the potato soup with my meal, forgetting it has sausage in it. I ate it anyway, because I didn't want it to go to waste, and I didn't want to hassle the waitress for my screw-up.

** For Michele's birthday we went to a German restaurant that had almost no veggie options. I got mushroom soup and an order of home fries. The soup was great and the potatoes were phenomenal--and included bacon crumbles. I didn't realize until three bites in, and again didn't want to waste it.

*** I know that's spelled wrong, but that's the way it is in the book. I know he doesn't want me to mix in South American countries.

Like I Needed More Distractions

2008-06-19T17:11:00.013-05:00

I was flopping around the innertubes earlier and I came across the MySpace page for Rapscallion, a band I hadn't listened to in a long time. I first got into them because they were a) on Metal Blade, b) produced by a Minneapolis company, and c) their album (Chameleon Drool) had a lot of superficial similarities to Saigon Kick's album The Lizard, which we were listening to a lot. And by "superficial" I mean that they were named for reptiles and had similar cover art. Take a look:

Anyway, on Rapscallion's site they mention they also post on garageband.com, which reminded me that I used to go to that site fairly often for unknown music. So I went there. And I got sucked in again.

I love new things.

One act that really got me was Warren Pece, an alternative rock/rap guy. Yes, I'm goofy and I like almost every kind of music at least a little. This guy sounds like Atmosphere mixed with Queens of the Stone Age. Pretty good stuff. Especially check out his song "Attention, Whores." Damn, that's a catchy song.

Oh, Yeah.

2008-06-16T15:13:00.004-05:00

There's another birthday to make note of.

I'll say no more. I meant the birthday/Father's Day gift to be a new name on this blog, but I haven't thought of anything suitable yet. I thought of several things, but nothing was funny enough.

The Canadians Are Coming -- More Videos

2008-06-15T11:26:00.006-05:00

Sure, Canada has produced abominations like Celine Dion, Alanis Morisette, and Shania Twain. But they've also given us Rush and Triumph. And some middle-of-the-road artists like Sebastian Bach*, Bryan Adams, and Barenaked Ladies, who are hard to revile but haven't produced more than a decent song or two. I mean look at Bryan Adams. He had a couple of hits in the eighties with some passable pop songs and then completely shit the bed with everything starting with his contributions to the soundtrack to the Kevin Costner Robin Hood Parody.

Here are some Canucks who flew under the radar.

Killer Dwarfs - We Stand Alone
These guys are goofy, but it works.

Exciter - Violence and Force
Part of the thrash explosion of 1983, but never got any attention. Because they were from the land of the ice and snow. Eh.

Anvil - Metal on Metal
Apparently whoever posted this video couldn't find a clip that was performed in English. Even though the audio is in English, the band is clearly singing in Canadian, and that's why it's not synched up.

Annihilator - Syn. Kill 1
Much like Exciter, these guys had the chops but never got much publicity. Of the four bands this is the only one that's still going (as opposed to reunited). I think Jeff Waters kills and eats his band members after every tour, though.

*UPDATE: Dave rightfully pointed out that Jewel is, in fact, American, and therefore had to be replaced. So I had to find a different not-so-offensive artist from Canada. In reality, I like a lot of what Bach did with Skid Row (their Slave to the Grind album kicked serious ass), but then he did Gilmore Girls, so he gets demoted. That show sucked like Roseanne singing the national anthem sucked.

Holy Outrage, Batman!

2008-06-13T10:34:00.002-05:00

Faux News done gone and fired John Scalzi up.

I am now linking to Mr. Scalzi on my sidebar, because I like the cut of his jib.

More seriously--this is just another piece of evidence that the conservative element of our culture, the element that yaps constantly about values and morals, is as full of scabrous reptiles as any other group.

...And Then a Hedgehog Shat on My Hand.

2008-06-13T09:14:00.003-05:00

It's been an interesting summer so far. For one thing, I think I can finally talk about Other Things. For another thing, even though it's an interesting summer there isn't a whole lot to say about it.

The Other Things to which I kept alluding were potential jobs. OCCC posted three jobs I felt at least minimally qualified for, and I applied to all three. The possibility of my becoming the Communications Lab Supervisor ended pretty quickly, as I wasn't even called for a first interview. That job eventually went to a friend, and she was clearly more qualified than I was, so there's no tension there. If I were on the hiring committee I'd have hired her, too. Though that would be awkward, being on the hiring committee for a job I was trying to get. I'll stop thinking about that now. It's silly.

The second job opening was for a Professor of English Composition. The twist was that it was for a new program of classes for ESL students. No problem. I've had ESL students in every section of Comp I've ever taught. They have different issues than native speakers do, but their problems aren't impossible to overcome. I made it through a third interview for this one, but didn't get the job.

The third position I applied for was the one I really wanted--Professor of English. It involved teaching some Comp, some Humanities, some Literature, and some Philosophy. Perfect. If I were to write up a job description that would fit me, this would be my design. I felt like I had a lot of advantages in my favor: I was the only adjunct (that I was aware of) who had taught a philosophy class for them, I have a good rapport with the full-time faculty and my supervisors there, and I understand they like to hire people from other places. I even used my mentor at OCCC (I'll call him "Martin" here) as a reference.

It wasn't to be. All of my advantages were real advantages, and I interviewed well. I met with the hiring committee, then the Dean of the Arts and Humanities division, and finally with the President and Vice President of Academic Affairs. All of those meetings were good ones. I answered all of their questions, my presentations went well, and the interviewers even laughed at my jokes. The only way I wasn't getting this job was if someone more qualified was interviewing as well.

The problem was that someone more qualified was interviewing as well. Martin. My mentor.

He's been full-time faculty there for eight years or so. He's just shy of having his doctorate in Philosophy. He's also one of the nicest people I have ever met. Every advantage I had he had even more of. When I learned he was interviewing (five minutes before my first interview) I figured my chances were slim. About the only way I'd get the job is if the division didn't want to deal with replacing Martin too after this process. Turns out they just decided to hire the best candidate. Go figure.

On the bright side, now his position is posted. I'm submitting my application today.

Also, we're hedgehogsitting for a family who we've really barely met. They seem like nice people, and "Hedgie" (the animal was named by young boys) won't be a burden to keep. He's quiet, doesn't eat much, and takes up little space. But right after they dropped him off and left, while I was still letting him run from one hand to the other and back again, he pinched a loaf all over me.

It smelled like cereal.

A Little Preoccupied

2008-06-09T21:40:00.003-05:00

About a month ago I had a birthday. I got older. I'm not embarrassed or ashamed--I turned 38 this year. That's not a good number, but it beats stopping at 37.

Anyway, I got a number of gifts (even though I tell everyone not to buy me anything), from gift cards to cash to clothes to mysterious packages in the mail. Jam and Brigadoon gave me season one of Jericho on DVD.

I keep meaning to call them and thank them for the gift, but there's a problem.

I'm too busy watching fricking Jericho to call.

I'll get to that in about ten more episodes. But thanks.

Sign of the Unicorn by Roger Zelazny

2008-06-08T09:20:00.003-05:00

More of the same, but in this book the intrigues are more intriguing, the surprises are more surprising, and Zelazny's originality is starker than in the first two books. This is my favorite of the series so far.

That said, it's time to change gears. I need to read more serious material for a while.

Futureland by Walter Mosley

2008-06-06T18:40:00.003-05:00

I've never read Walter Mosley before. Detective stories have to work hard just to get my attention, though I'm more receptive to the genre since I read Raymond Chandler a while ago. I didn't even know Mosley wrote science fiction until I found this on the Amazon bargain list (I needed something cheap to round out an order), but it looked interesting so I ordered it.

"Interesting" isn't the word. "Excellent" is. This is the kind of science fiction that makes meaningful social commentary in an artistic way. The world Mosley creates is plausible and visceral. It took a couple of days after I finished this to really understand the effect it had on me. It's still making me think. I like when that happens.

If I were to compare this to something else, I'd say it's a blend of William Gibson cyberpunk and Ralph Ellison's Invisible Man. Pretty powerful stuff.

Nerd Humor

2008-06-06T18:26:00.002-05:00

From a comment thread at Making Light:

There are 10 kinds of people in this world: Those who understand binary notation and those who don't.

That cracks me up.

Another Trifecta

2008-05-30T15:55:00.009-05:00

Once again, they come in threes. In the last week Robert Asprin, Sidney Pollack, and Harvey Korman have all died. I think they have varying levels of fame, probably in increasing order as I've listed them, but they're all significant.

Robert Asprin wrote the "MythAdventure" novels--humorous fantasy books whose titles always replaced the syllable "mis-" or the word "miss" with "myth." I've never read them, but they've sold a ton.

He also wrote the "Phule" science fiction books, of which I've read a few, and he co-edited the original "Thieves' World" books. Big name in the fantasy/SF industry. He was supposed to be a guest of honor at Marcon in Ohio last weekend, but couldn't make it due to a bad case of dead. One line in his Wikipedia entry made me chuckle: "Asprin passed away 22 May 2008, dying quietly in bed where he had been reading a Terry Pratchett novel." Not a bad way to go.

Sidney Pollack was a little more famous, generally speaking (though I'm sure there were some people who worshipped Asprin but had never heard of Pollack). He's best-known for directing the movie Tootsie and playing the part of the protagonist's agent.
Michele and I saw him in Michael Clayton the night before Pollack died. That was weird. I hadn't seen him in anything for a long time, and then I did and then he died.

It wasn't my fault. Honest.

And then there's Harvey Korman. Sure he was hysterical as Hedly Lamarr in Blazing Saddles. Sure he had a career that went back to the mid-1960s, when he appeared on the Danny Kaye Show. But what I'll always remember Korman for is his years on the Carol Burnett Show. Our whole family would watch that show every week, and every week Korman barely kept a straight face as Burnett or Tim Conway would do something so outrageously funny any normal human would be reduced to a giggling mess. And Korman was as funny as the others.

I don't like to embed videos, but since no photo can do Korman justice, here are a couple of sketches that still make me cry laughing:

RIP, guys. We were amused.

The Guns of Avalon by Roger Zelazny

2008-05-29T11:00:00.012-05:00

This is the second installment of Zelazny's Amber stories. The good points here are the same as those in the first book: Zelazny's world is interesting, Corwin is an interesting and believable protagonist, the specific fantasy and SF elements of the story are unique, and the voice is effective. Think Raymond Chandler without the restrictions of reality.

The flaws I find are the same as I saw in Nine Princes in Amber as well. The story is really just an installment in a series and not one that can stand on its own. There's a progression of action without a real arc, and that makes the book feel like I'm reading Super Mario Brothers at times. There's little to no character development, though there are revelations that make Corwin alter his plan and make secondary characters change in their dispositions toward Corwin.

Again, a satisfying diversion, and it's probably exactly as Zelazny intended it. What I see as flaws are recognized within serial fantasy as mere convention, so it's another reminder that just because it doesn't satisfy me doesn't mean it's objectively bad.

The Summer

2008-05-27T08:43:00.004-05:00

I'm not sure how this summer is going to develop yet. I have a training session to go to this week, and then next Monday I start teaching my one section of Fundamentals of English. I need to find another part-time job to fill in the income gap, but I'm not sure where to go for that.

My class runs from June 2 to July 25, which means it ends the Friday after my 20 year high school reunion*. I don't know if I'll be able to go. I want to--it should be surreal--but I don't know if I can swing it, financially or logistically. I may not get a chance to visit Minnesota until August.

*This isn't causing me any trauma yet. I'm sure at some point it will, but so far no aging-related breakdowns. Just the usual ones.

More Books

2008-05-25T09:36:00.012-05:00

One Writer's Beginnings by Eudora Welty
College students get exposed to Eudora Welty fairly early, and probably often. Her short stories "Why I Live at the P.O." and "A Worn Path" are required by law to be included in every anthology published in America, and for good reason. They're great short stories, and Welty's skill is evident to even a beginning reader.

I picked this book out of a box of giveaways in one of the offices in Mankato, but just got around to it a few weeks ago. I'd never seen any nonfiction by Welty, and this seemed like a good source of insight on writing. As it turns out, it is and it isn't. Welty makes a number of connections between events in her life and how she became a writer, and that's interesting. Welty's life, and the lives of her relatives, are not very interesting, though. The events that shaped her as a writer aren't compelling--just mundane everyday things that she turned her curiosity and perception on. It's Welty's memory, detail selection, and insight that make her writing interesting. This book serves to remind me that while some writers are made, some are just born. Welty was one of those.

Punish the Sinners by John Saul
I guess there's not a whole lot to say about this book. John Saul is a fine writer, and he certainly understands the convention of a horror novel, but this one didn't do much for me. It follows a predictable pattern, the horror isn't very horrifying, and the nature of the danger in this story strikes me as hokey, maybe because of the conflict between faith and reason throughout, and maybe especially because science's representative in this story is psychology, which in my mind is about as scientific as astrology.

The net effect of reading this book is I'm wondering if this genre means anything to me anymore. I have a shelf full of Dean Koontz, Clive Barker, Robert McCammon, Thomas Tryon, Dan Simmons, Saul, and of course Stephen King. My intention has been to read everything before I get rid of it, but I may just dump all of these. I won't feel deprived without them.

Shutter Island by Dennis Lehane
When we read Lehane's Mystic River in Terry Davis's Form and Technique class, Terry kept returning to Lehane's use of physical detail. He used words like "relentless" to describe the physical elements of the story. That's my lasting impression of Mystic River, but I've always wondered whether that was because it was my impression of the book or because Terry Jedi-mind-tricked me into believing that. Terry's passion for story can do that sometimes.

I wasn't thinking of Mystic River when I started reading Shutter Island, but within about ten pages I was thinking, "Holy crap, this story is almost tactile, there's so much detail." Then I remembered Mystic River and Terry and Form and Technique, and I knew Terry hadn't Obi-Wanned me. Lehane packs his fiction with concrete detail, and so even though it's genre work there's some craft to take from it. The story itself has some surprises, and the characters are amusing and charming, but in the end the value of Shutter Island is in the details.

Wyrd Sisters by Terry Pratchett

It's Pratchett, so it's fun. This book is even pretty smart, mixing in elements from Shakespeare's work (primarily Hamlet, MacBeth, and Richard III). While the story is enjoyable, it has some problems I don't normally notice with Pratchett. It lacks focus much of the time, it's largely predictable, and there isn't much in the way of development. Maybe the focus problem stems from the protagonists being a group of three. Granny Weatherwax, Nanny Ogg, and Magrat are the three witches of the title, but it's the actions of Granny and Magrat that really drive the story--more precisely, it's the tension between the two. Maybe the Shakespeare element is what makes the story somewhat predictable, and that isn't a terrible problem anyway, since nobody I know reads Pratchett for revelation through plot. What struck me most about this was that the characters are so static. There are some superficial changes in the Fool, and maybe to a lesser degree in Magrat, but for the most part the characters are in the end who they were in the beginning. Again, not a deal-breaker, because Pratchett is just fun to experience, but some of his other novels (Small Gods, anyone?) are greater accomplishments.

Hillaryous

2008-05-24T07:55:00.009-05:00

Hillary Clinton is done. She's been done for some time, and everyone knows it but her. It's good that the Democratic race is essentially over, because it's way past time to start thinking about the general election and making sure the conservatives lose as much power and influence as possible. And that's where this gets weird.

I prefer Obama as a candidate over Clinton, and have from the beginning, even though the two are close on every policy position and in most other respects. I prefer Obama not because Clinton is a woman (the recent charges of widespread misogyny are just pathetic), and not because Clinton is a Clinton (I liked Bill as President), but because Obama at least tries to practice a different kind of politics, because his persona isn't constructed for political expediency and restructured every time the landscape changes. Because Clinton is part of, and manifests the rhetoric and attitudes of, the generation of politicians that has caused this hyperpartisan, all-or-nothing, self-righteous political atmosphere. She seems incapable of disengaging from the dialogue the Republicans have dictated since Reagan, recognizing it for the shallow, destructive distraction that it is, and moving toward a more civil, productive mode of governance.

That said, Obama and Clinton are extremely close in most of the criteria of greatest importance in a presidential candidate: policy position and stated intention.

But like I said, this is where it gets weird. There are Clinton supporters who say they will not vote for Obama if he's the Democratic candidate in the general election. This boggles my mind. I can only think of a few reasons someone would take this position.

The voter supports Clinton as a candidate, but sees John McCain as the next best alternative. I'm hesitant to say anything's impossible, but this would be incredible. It would have to be explained to me, because the only aspect in which Clinton is closer to McCain than she is to Obama is age.

The voter thinks Obama is unelectable because too many racist white Americans won't vote for a black man. This might have some merit, in a strategic sense, in the primaries, but it certainly doesn't hold water in the general election. If Candidate A is a better choice than Candidate B, but I vote for Candidate B because other people might not vote for Candidate A, then I'm just compounding the problem of racist stupidity, aren't I? That would make me dumber than the idiot racists.

The voter wanted Clinton but is disappointed, sad, and maybe even angry that more voters prefer Obama, so will either vote for McCain or not vote at all out of principle. The legal voting age in the U.S. is eighteen--the age of legal majority. That means a voter has to be a chronological adult, but does not mandate a corresponding emotional maturity. Voters whose selections are motivated by this kind of petulance need to grow the hell up.

The voter thinks experience is the most important aspect in a candidate. McCain might be an ideological caveman, but at least he has experience. While this might be the most factually supportable reason, it's also one of the least sensible. John McCain first took office as a Representative of Arizona in 1982. Hillary Clinton took office as a Senator from New York in 1993. Barack Obama took office as a State Senator in Illinois in 1997 and as a US Senator in 2005. So yes, Clinton has been in office four years longer than Obama has. But McCain has been in office longer than Clinton has--by more than a decade. If experience trumps policy positions and ideology, those supporting Clinton should have supported McCain from the start. If policy positions and ideology trump experience, the Clinton supporters would be seriously inconsistent for shifting away from Obama on the basis of experience.

I suppose there are more reasons. If you can think of any, let me know. Me? I like Obama, and I have since before he entered the race. I've never supported a conservative, and after the last eight years I'd vote for a box of hair before voting for anyone who shares policy positions or ideology with Dubya (actually that was the case in 2000, too--I've always been astounded that others could vote for such an obvious idiot). If Obama weren't in the race I'd probably have supported Clinton (after Kucinich and Richardson dropped out, anyway), but in this reality I'm fortunate that the candidate I like is likely going on to the general election.

Wait Loss

2008-05-21T08:46:00.005-05:00

I've refrained from posting anything for a while because I've assumed I'm on the cusp of having News about Other Things. So far, no news. Waiting is not my strong suit. I start to obsess, and then I can't do anything else.

So instead of doing something productive, I'll pick on someone.

The NBA held its draft lottery yesterday, and the Minnesota Timberwolves landed the third pick. This is good for them, because it means they didn't have their usual bad luck and drop a few spots. There will be a number of good players to choose from at the third pick (though only two are considered real prizes--and won't be available at the third pick). A group of Timberwolves fans are circulating a petition to encourage the team to draft O.J. Mayo, a guard from USC who's had some issues recently.

I can't argue against their preference for Mayo--even though the Wolves already have about 37 players best suited for shooting guard, where Mayo seems most comfortable--but I have to mock one of the sentences in the petition:

We are not threatening anyone and this should not be considered one.

I suppose at some point of my life I'd have read that sentence, thought something there was mildly screwy, and then moved on, but I can't get it out of my head this time.

The problem is with the "one" at the end of the sentence. Structurally, that word is meant to point out one out of a group of count nouns earlier in the sentence. The only two nouns appearing before "one," though, are "We" and "anyone." To see if either of these make sense, we can modify "one" with the other nouns:

We are not threatening anyone and this should not be considered one of we.

No. That doesn't make any sense. How about the other noun?

We are not threatening anyone and this should not be considered one of anyone.

Again, no. What the writer clearly meant was this:

We are not threatening anyone and this should not be considered a threat.

Redundant, but at least now it's a sentence in English. The problem is that the word "one" can't refer to a verb, and it won't do the work of nominalizing a verb just to make the sentence sensible.

There. I've purged my inner pedant for the moment. I should be free of it for twenty minutes or so.

Happy Mother's Day

2008-05-11T09:54:00.003-05:00

If mothers didn't exist, very few of us would be here. Or, as my comp students might say, "Mothers have been around longer than I have been a live."

Happy Mother's Day, Mom. You earned every penny.

Wait. There was payment?

Some Videos

2008-05-06T13:57:00.004-05:00

This time I decided to do a batch of heavy covers of 80s songs. They're sure to disgust the original artists, and most of the songs' fans, but I like them better.

Mandy Lion - Kiss
This is a cover of Prince's little mincing song. I like this better. Mr. Lion has a pretty wicked growl to him, and this song goes from mincing to menacing in about a second.

Alien Ant Farm - Smooth Criminal
This was all over the radio a decade ago. Takes Michael Jackson and gives it some testosterone. Still surprisingly faithful to the original, though. Love it.

Dope - You Spin Me Round (Like a Record)
Originally recorded by Dead or Alive in 1985, this was one of the only dance songs I didn't feel uncomfortable liking. I like the new version by Dope better, though. Plus, for additional geekiness, the video is performed by World of Warcraft characters.

Realm - Eleanor Rigby
I've loved this cover since I bought Realm's debut, Endless War, on cassette in 1989. I like the Beatles' version too, but this one always charges me up. I can see Sly and Dave getting sick to their stomachs listening to it, though.

250th Post

2008-05-05T18:31:00.001-05:00

In honor of this historic anniversary, I offer you a link to Fail Blog.

Thanks to my brother for bringing this to my attention. I've been screaming-laughing for about forty-five minutes. Michele is distracted. It's finals week. I may not live through the night.

Time-Out From Grading Essays

2008-05-04T15:24:00.005-05:00

This is good news for all two of us who remember and really liked Riot's Thundersteel album. Mark Reale's reuniting that band line-up for a new album. It will be interesting to see what they sound like twenty years later, but I'm guessing the Zombie is still a killer on drums*.

Here's the title song from that recording: \m/ .

* Wow. I had no idea.

A Glimpse Into My Stagnant Mind

2008-05-02T08:54:00.004-05:00

While I generally pride myself on my big-C Cynicism, for the last couple of months I've devolved to a lower life-form: a mundane, petty, pedestrian cynic. Not surprisingly, this blog has become an expression of my state of mind. Mostly it's stagnant, with posts hovering in position for a week at a time. When this turgid river of my expressed thought does churn down one spot it displays regurgitations of pop culture, shallow reflections on quickly-read books, and mind-numbing quiz results. It's pathetic.

In addition to my own pointless posts, my spastic interaction with other blogs and bloggers has been either inane or nasty. I'm ashamed of myself, for exercising so little self control, for choosing a snarl over silence.

Once again I've been tested under pressure--the classes I've taught this semester have been challenging on a personal level and Other Things* have not yeilded results yet--and I don't like what I see. Hopefully when the semester ends, and when Other Things have been settled, and I figure out how my summer is going to develop, I can return to a stable center and re-establish a self that doesn't depress me. But for the next week, it might behoove me (and benefit everyone around me) if I just shut up.

* I've been reluctant to even mention these Other Things. Hopefully, I'll be able to talk about them soon.

A Thingy Followed Me Home

2008-04-26T22:01:00.002-05:00

adopt your own virtual pet!

Erm. Can someone tell me how to get this into my sidebar? Please? Sean? Anyone? Beuller?

Reason #327 Why Eudora Welty Is Awesome

2008-04-26T11:51:00.004-05:00

Here's a passage from One Writer's Beginnings that demonstrates Welty's ability to observe and remember:

But one day I noticed in the same drawer a small white cardboard box such as her engraved calling cards came in from the printing house. It was tightly closed, but I opened it, to find to my puzzlement and covetousness two polished buffalo nickels, embedded in white cotton. I rushed with this opened box to my mother and asked if I could run out and spend the nickels.

"No!" she exclaimed in a most passionate way. She seized the box into her own hands. I begged her; somehow I had started to cry. Then she sat down, drew me to her, and told me that I had had a little brother who had come before I did, and who had died as a baby before I was born. And these two nickels that I'd wanted to claim as my find were his. They had lain on his eyelids, for a purpose untold and unimagineable.

Aaaaaah! Stabbed me in the gut! I love it!

Another Note of Note to be Noted

2008-04-26T11:21:00.002-05:00

I posted to the Mr. Hyde blog. My mother will be interested in reading that post, as will many others.

Big Book Roundup

2008-04-26T08:43:00.008-05:00

I've been reading a lot, but not posting. Here's my quick recap of my recent reading.

No Country For Old Men by Cormac McCarthy
This was recently made into a movie, and it was directed by the Coen brothers. It was nominated for a number of awards and even won a few. I had no interest in seeing this film based on its description, but when we inherited the book I decided there was no reason not to read it--even if its subject didn't interest me at all.

This is the area in which literary novel and genre novel get confused with one another. This is a literary novel, but it relies on the conventions of crime novels, detective novels, and thrillers. The reason it's a literary novel is that while it makes use of those conventions it doesn't lapse into a lazy tracing of the stereotypes that most commonly result from that. And it's so well written--the language is careful, deliberate, and sharp as a scalpel--that even if it were merely genre work it would be worth reading. Both the protagonist and the antagonist defy expectation, and the story develops in such a way as to assure the reader that he doesn't know what's coming. A very enjoyable book, and it's a fast read, too. I may have to see the movie now.

Second Heaven by Judith Guest
I have to admit it: I love Judith Guest. As I was finishing my MFA thesis she visited Mankato, and I was able to schedule a manuscript conference with her. I didn't want to burden her with my whole screenplay, so I just submitted my first fifteen pages. When we met, she was kind and gracious--but she didn't think the story worked. We talked about it for a half hour anyway, and she was intrigued enough by some of the elements to offer to read the whole script. I mailed her the whole monster, and then about a month later we met in a coffee shop in Edina to talk it over.

She still had concerns about the story, but she really liked the characters I was working with. Since the characters were the core of the story I was really encouraged. We talked for about an hour and a half that day. Judy (that's how she signed her emails) took a place in my mind that was part aunt, part grandmother, and part sister. I really value the time she took for me.

As for this book--when I saw it in an antique store for a dollar I had to pick it up. Her characters and the novel's premise weren't really my thing, but I feel like I'm supporting her work in some small way by reading this. Like the McCarthy book, despite a disconnect between my usual interests and Guest's material, this is an enjoyable read. The psychological depth and the reality of the characters propelled me through the story. Now I need to read Ordinary People (I've seen parts of the Oscar-winning film adaptation, but haven't read the book yet).

Conan the Marauder by John Maddox Roberts
This is exactly what it should be. There's no reason to open a Conan novel expecting literary genius. What one should expect is a series of exciting conflicts during which Mr. Of Cimmeria will demonstrate his awesomeness. There are feats of strength in this novel. There are also feats of cunning, of skill, and of a general derring-do. Conan of Cimmeria always wins. I know that. You know that. But it's fun to read anyway.

In this case, Conan begins the story by being captured and forced into a Roman-gladiator-type slavery. But because Conan is awesome, he is soon a general in the army of the people who enslaved him.

Bottom line? Conan of Cimmeria is awesome. And this book, while not a great work of art, is fun to read.

The Young and Violent by Vin Packer
I found this in a box of old books at my mom's house, and since I'm incapable of ignoring a book in my possession, I hung onto it and figured I'd read it at some point. "Some point" came a week or so ago, and I finally consumed this hunk of cliche.

Here's the setup: gangs, New York City, drugs, 1950s. You have a picture in your head now, right? It's mostly general, and probably involves a lot of stereotypes, right? That's this book.

Based on the cover art and the contents of the story I had imagined Vin Packer to be some misogynist troll, a dense man with a heavy brow ridge who yells for his wife to get him a beer while he watches professional wrestling and NASCAR. Imagine my surprise when I discovered that "Vin Packer" is the pen-name of Marijane Meaker--a woman. Not only is she a woman, she's a lesbian. She is a woman and she loves women, but the female characters in this story are weak, simple, and amoral. Mostly they're furniture with dialogue and orifices for men to exploit.

If you're inclined to read this story, I'd advise you not to. Save time and hit yourself on the head with a cinder block instead. Same effect.

Another Funny Synthesis

2008-04-24T13:58:00.003-05:00

The other day Mike posted a video melding Monty Python and Star Wars, and I saw that it was good. Today I offer you a combination of Monty Python and Star Trek. I see that this is also good.

Yea, verily.

Funny Video Time

2008-04-22T20:23:00.003-05:00

Watch a religious satire here. I'm not sure what's funnier, the satire or the people who don't catch that this is satire. Hehe. Darwin = not intelligent. Bwahahaha.

And then watch a video by Beatallica here. They sing Beatles songs in the mode of old (read: non-sucky) Metallica. It's hysterical. To me. Which says just about nothing for its actual comedic value.

Birds of America by Lorrie Moore

2008-04-18T08:02:00.006-05:00

This is one of those books that everyone but me had read when I was in Mankato, and I had always intended to get to it, but there was always something else to read first. Then I found a copy of Birds of America at a thrift store for $1.20, and I could no longer make excuses.

Everything I've heard about Lorrie Moore has been good news. I've never heard a negative opinion of her work, but what I had read in anthologies didn't really impress me. The good news is the stories in Birds of America do impress me. Moore's language, her use of the surprising metaphor, and her ability to tread near sentimentality without getting it all over her shoes all outweigh my reaction to her subjects: boring.

An example is the story "People Like That Are the Only People Here: Canonical Babbling in Peed Onk." It's a story about a woman whose child is undergoing cancer treatments. What follows is the usual hand-wringing one would expect from such a subject, and that would normally trigger my gag reflex pretty quickly. But Moore's treatment of the events lends it a remoteness, an emotional numbness, that both feels perfectly appropriate and also saves the story from melodrama. Plus, it boasts passages like this one:

How can it be described? How can any of it be described? The trip and the story of the trip are always two different things. The narrator is the one who has stayed home, but then, afterward, presses her mouth upon the traveler's mouth, in order to make the mouth work, to make the mouth say, say, say. One cannot go to a place and speak of it; one cannot both see and say, not really. One can go, and upon returning make a lot of hand motions and indications with the arms. The mouth itself, working at the speed of light, at the eye's instructions, is necessarily struck still; so fast, so much to report, it hangs open and dumb as a gutted bell. All that unsayable life! That's where the narrator comes in. The narrator comes with her kisses and mimicry and tidying up. The narrator comes and makes a slow, fake song of the mouth's eager devastation.

Aaaaah! AAAAAAAGH! Perfect. I like it.

Scorpions are Pretty Amazing

2008-04-08T20:27:00.004-05:00

When I was about thirteen years old I figured I'd start listening to the radio. I'd been corrupted years ago by George Goodfield's KISS albums, but I needed something contemporary (I'd been teased about my KISS record--it couldn't be danced to). So I latched onto the first few songs I heard on the radio when I finally got it working. Here are my first efforts:

The Cars - You Might Think

Huey Lewis and the News - I Want a New Drug

Styx - Mr. Roboto

Scorpions - Rock You Like a Hurricane

But this was about 1983, and the coolest song--the Scorpions-- wasn't matched for years. Eventually they became the soundtrack for the collapse of the Iron Curtain. And that's how I left them in my memory. A killer band who flattened out to become pop chaff.

Then I started hearing older Scorpions (they aren't "The Scorpions"--just "Scorpions"). Anyway--those songs kick ass. Where Klaus Meine's voice had always been great, and where their musical inventiveness was unexpected, all of a sudden they became elements of art--something more than elements of a commercial vehicle. This is most evident in the song "Sails of Charon," from the 1970s. Great stuff.

Another Quiz (and moore)

2008-04-08T19:56:00.004-05:00

You Are Animal

A complete lunatic, you're operating on 100% animal instincts.

You thrive on uncontrolled energy, and you're downright scary.

But you sure can beat a good drum.

"Kill! Kill!"

The Muppet Personality Test

I know I'm slow on the book thingies. I still have to talk Lorrie Moore and Cormac McCarthy, but now I'm reading a Conan novel. It's complicated. Look! Is that the pope?

Check Out My Quizzitude!

2008-04-04T09:45:00.003-05:00

Your Thinking is Abstract and Random

You are flexible, adaptable, and creative.

There's many ways that you can learn - and you're up for any of them.

You relate well to other people, and you do well working in groups.

You can help people communicate together and work with each other's strengths.

You don't work well with people who are competitive or adversarial.

You prefer to work toward a common goal... not toward conflicting goals.

What Kind of Thinker Are You?

You Are 82% Misanthropic

You are misanthropic to the point of being scary. In your view, people are a disease.

You may want to lighten up a little - before you become a super villain!

How Misanthropic Are You?

Your Rockstar Name Is...

Wolfgang Destruction

What's Your Rockstar Name?

You Are 32% Intuitive

You're definitely an intuitive person, but you never go on your gut alone.

You tend to be more analytical than intuitive - possibly because your intuition has failed you in the past.

When you don't have enough facts to make a decision, you don't mind listening to your gut to figure out what to do.

How Intuitive Are You?

There's a 67% Chance That You Need Therapy

You almost certainly need therapy. And there's nothing wrong with that.

Lately life has not been easy for you. Why not let a therapist help you sort things out?

Do You Need Therapy?

Your Goth Name is:

Dark Wolfe

What's Your Goth Name?

You Passed the US Citizenship Test

Congratulations - you got 9 out of 10 correct!

Could You Pass the US Citizenship Test?

Your Superpower Should Be Invisibility

You are stealth, complex, and creative.

You never face problems head on. Instead, you rely on your craftiness to get your way.

A mystery to others, you thrive on being a little misunderstood.

You happily work behind the scenes... because there's nothing better than a sneak attack!

Why you would be a good superhero: You're so sly, no one would notice... not even your best friends

Your biggest problem as a superhero: Missing out on all of the glory that visible superheroes get

What Should Your Superpower Be?

You're a Little Stupid

You got 9/10 questions right!

Or at least careless. Better go back and recheck your answers!

Are You Stupid?

You Are 40% Sociopath

From time to time, you may be a bit troubled and a bit too charming for your own good.

It's likely that you're not a sociopath... just quite smart and a bit out of the mainstream!

Are You A Sociopath?

Your Greed Quotient: 16%

You're anything but greedy. You're eager to share and give to others.

For you, collecting material possessions is more trouble than it's worth!

How Much Greed Do You Have?

You are Agnostic

You're not sure if God exists, and you don't care.

For you, there's no true way to figure out the divine.

You rather focus on what you can control - your own life.

And you tend to resent when others "sell" religion to you.

What's Your Religious Philosophy?

Your EQ is 87

You've got more emotional intelligence than the average frat boy. Barely.

You're quite moody, and sometimes you find yourself feeling upset without knowing what really caused it.

Your emotions can overtake you at times, and you do tend to become preoccupied with your negative thoughts.

Remember that your emotions don't have to rule your life, and take it easy when you deal with other people.

The world is a difficult enough place - no need to make life any harder for yourself!

What's Your EQ (Emotional Intelligence Quotient)?

Then We Came to the End by Joshua Ferris

2008-04-03T14:24:00.002-05:00

This is a funny book. I like it a lot. The voice is perfect, the characters are engaging in spite of themselves, the anecdotes keep the action going in the absence of an overarching plot, and I think the comment it makes on America's professional world is damning and insightful.

It also hits the reader with serious business from time to time. The narration (the point-of-view character throughout is an anonymous "we") is a stroke of genius.

I'm glad Diana praised this book, and that I could pick up a six-dollar copy of the hardcover. Yay!

For All You Cold-Weather Persons

2008-04-01T19:21:00.004-05:00

So. Yesterday, while you people up north were suffering in the cold, watching as the last of eight inches of snow was hitting the chilly asphalt, I was doing this.

I'll interpret, for those of you who are overcome with rage at this image. I'm on a patio at a restaurant. It's almost eighty degrees and I'm getting a bit sunburned. I have in my left hand a locally-brewed IPA and I have in front of me the last five slices of seared Ahi tuna I might slather in a wasabi-mayonnaise mix and then garnish with black beans and corn and such.

Did I mention my sunburn?

Anyone want to come visit? Make your winter reservations now. Hehe.

Even More Videos

2008-04-01T18:52:00.004-05:00

I posted a few more. I didn't mention the last time I did this, so I should at least introduce those:

Finntroll - Finnish polka metal. How do you lose?

Dokken - A brilliantly talented band who suffered from the hair-metal label. Too bad they hated each other.

Masi - This his the only song (that I've heard) that's worth a shit. It's great, but dated now.

Disturbed - I like some nu-metal, and this it probably among the best.

And for today's new links:

Metal Church - Badlands
This is a seriously cool song. And the guitarist, Jim Marshall (not the Viking defensive lineman) is about seven feet tall.

Fifth Angel - Time Will Tell
Sure, this isn't their most aggressive song and, sure, they're a Christian metal band, but damn. They kick ass. Or did, back in 1989, before Ken Mary joined House of Lords and the rest of them fell off the planet.

Lewis Black - Sacrilege
Since my current theme is Christian fluff, here's the master of snark to poke holes in it.

KISS - Heaven's on Fire
Let's face it--these guys have had little to brag about for about 30 years, but the Animalize album was one of them. Kicking ass!

Letting Go by Philip Roth

2008-04-01T05:51:00.005-05:00

This is Roth's first novel and his second published book (the first was Goodbye, Columbus, a collection of short stories). What Letting Go has is Roth's trademark intensity, his examination of Jewishness, and a surprisingly tame depiction of marriage and romance. Roth has become so daring in his treatment of sexuality (see Sabbath's Theater, for instance) it's interesting to see how demure he was back in the old days.

I almost wish this had been a terrible book. It's 600+ pages, and nobody makes a significant decision until about page 400. It was a strange kind of torture to get to that point, because on one hand there wasn't much driving the plot, but on the other hand the language and Roth's psychological insights were both compelling and enjoyable. If Roth had been even just an above-average writer I'd have tossed this on the heap before page 100. Instead, I don't regret having toughed it out.

Daniel MacMaster: Dead

2008-03-27T16:14:00.007-05:00

I just read on Sleaze Roxx that Daniel MacMaster died the other day from a simple strep virus. For those of you who don't know who he was (read: everyone but me, I'm guessing), here's the long and the short of it:

In the late 1980s Jason Bonham--son of the late John Bonham, deceased drummer for Led Zeppelin--put a band together and immediately earned national attention. I think this attention came for four reasons. 1) The Bonham name, 2) Jason Bonham is actually a hell of a drummer, 3) the singer sounded a lot like Robert Plant (also of Led Zep), and 4) The music was pretty good--catchy and inventive. Where does Mr. MacMaster fit into all of this, you ask? He was the singer I mentioned, I answer. Sounded like Plant v 2.0. Listen for yourself here. The band did fairly well for a little while, but then grunge came along and anything resembling classic rock or heavy metal (and these guys had both elements) was buried. Daniel MacMaster faded to obscurity, to live a life like most of us.

It jarred me a little to read this death report, because I hadn't thought of the band in years, but I remember them well and fondly. They got me through eight miserable months stationed in Norfolk, Virginia in 1989 and 1990. What was more disturbing, though, was to read that he was 39 years old.

Huh?

While I was sitting in my little room in the barracks, eating Cap'n Crunch and Ramen noodles out of a plastic bowl I kept in a desk drawer, this guy, who was only a year and a half older than me, was living the rock-star life. I've felt once again the sting of envy brought on by the early achievements of others*. Bleargh.

Still--the news could have been worse. It could have been Jason McMaster of Dangerous Toys who died. No offense to Daniel, but "Scared" is still one of the coolest songs ever. (And if you want to see more Robert Plant influence, check out JM's pose at the end of that video.)

So, yeah. It's sad. Another memory drawn up just because its source is squelched.

* I think Andy Galeon was the first to hit me with this kind of envy. He was the drummer for Death Angel. I was seventeen when their first album was released--he was twelve.

Happy Birthday, MFilly!

2008-03-26T15:04:00.003-05:00

Actually, his birthday was yesterday, but I only have the time just now to throw together this slapdash effort. Happy Monkey Day!

I'm not sure what I'm getting myself into with this, but it amuses me.

I Challenge You

2008-03-24T20:53:00.003-05:00

Thank you for reading after that. Here is my challenge:

Tell me how this speech fails. Not in overblown, general statements. Not in partisan blandishments. Tell me specifically, in concrete detail, how Senator Barack Obama is wrong.

Because unless I'm missing something, he's the smartest human who's run for the presidency in my lifetime, and one whom I'd like to see putting his hand on whatever book and becoming my boss.

Happy Birthday, Buckaroo!

2008-03-24T17:16:00.002-05:00

Um. Happy birthday. Have lots of beer. Then, maybe, you'll forget this exists.

Until morning, when you log on again. Bwahahahaha! Ha.

Happy birthday.

On Reading Smart People

2008-03-24T15:21:00.002-05:00

I read too many blogs. One of the too-many blogs I read as regularly as I can is The Edge of the American West. It's run by a couple of guys who teach history, and they're really smart.

Their most recent post is a history of American liberalism. It's smart. SMRT.

Eleven Days Later

2008-03-22T07:39:00.003-05:00

It's been a while since I've felt compelled to post anything. It's not that nothing's happening--on the contrary, we've been as busy as ever. The parents came down last Friday and we've tried to show them all we know about our new home, as little as that is. We've visited Lake Thunderbird, the Canadian River winery (the ladies tasted everything they had to offer), and both schools where I teach. We've eaten at some of our favorite restaurants here, and we've only had to go to Target three times.

I have some books to post about (Letting Go by Philip Roth and Then We Came to the End by Joshua Ferris), and this next week should be a busy one. For now, though, we'll just enjoy the last two days of the parents' visit and then gird our loins for the rest of the school year.

A Post to Move Things

2008-03-10T07:29:00.002-05:00

I just thought I'd post something to get the Jerilla out of the top spot. I've tortured him long enough. Maybe tonight I'll have enough energy to post something important(ish). I don't know what I have--cold, flu, ebola virus--but it's sapped everything but my will to live.

Maybe later. For now, it's off to school.

Happy Birthday, Jam!

2008-03-07T08:42:00.004-06:00

Happy birthday to you

You look like a monkey

And you smell like one, too.

Happy birthday! Love you. Even if you're old.

I Like Smart People

2008-03-05T13:55:00.006-06:00

I have said as little as I possibly can about George Walker Bush. It isn't healthy for me to think about him too much, to think that some people in America were stupid enough to vote for him--some were stupid enough to vote for him after he'd spent four years demonstrating his incompetence. There seems to be no floor low enough to support some peoples' sense.

I like the idea that our next president might be an intelligent human. A thoughtful person. I like the idea that the next president might be smarter than me. More eloquent than me.

I like smart people.

That's why I'm an Obama guy.

John McCain is not a bad man. He's brave, he's committed, and I think he has the best interests of America and Americans in mind. But he's a conservative, and because of that he's set the world up in an us-vs.-them paradigm that doesn't work and that has never worked. He's comfortable if circumstances fail people as long as his interpretation of the founders' intentions is kept intact. I was ready to vote for McCain over Gore in 2000--and then the Village Idiot won the Republican nomination. How did that happen? I don't know. I will never understand how Dubya got a single vote, let alone enough votes to make the Florida robbery plausible.

Hillary Clinton is not a bad woman. But her insistence on practicing negative politics and obfuscation make me want to strangle her. I believe she'd be a decent president, but I can't vote for her. The more I hear her speak the less I hear of her. It's like a focus group took possession of her head. There's no there there anymore.

I'm a Barack Obama guy. I read his book, Dreams From My Father, which struck me as a rare achievement: a candid memoir that was interesting and compelling, but one that lacked the self-importance it would seem necessary to bother writing a memoir. It's a great memoir. And I feel like Obama is a genuine man. Nothing he's said or done during his campaign has changed my opinion of him. This isn't just a candidate I wouldn't mind seeing in office--I actively want this man to be president. I've never been able to say that before. I've voted for Dukakis and Clinton, Gore and Kerry. In all of those cases I just thought they were lesser evils than G.H.W. Bush, Bob Dole, and Dubya. Honestly--Dubya? Could there be a worse human being in charge of this country? I don't think so.

But I like Obama. He's intelligent and articulate. He seems thoughtful. Even when he takes on the cadences of MLK during his speeches, and I get a little uncomfortable with that, I feel as though he's still conveying valuable ideas, that he's committed to a humane platform.

As a side note: Keith Olbermann is my hero. Seriously. I liked him a lot when he co-hosted SportCenter with Dan Patrick in the mid-nineties, but he's infinitely more valuable now that he's brought his intelligence and outrage to nightly news--even if he's stuck on MSNBC, where nobody can see him. I like when my news people are intelligent and thoughtful.

So here's a question: Who are you voting for and why? If you're not voting, why not?

End of two Eras

2008-03-04T14:44:00.006-06:00

Wow. Third post of the day. This is weird.

When I was a teenager I desperately wanted to play Dungeons and Dragons. I never seemed to know the right people at the right time, though. Most of my friends had no interest in the game, and the people I knew who did have interest had played it years ago and gotten bored with it.

So for years I've billed myself as such a geek that I couldn't find geeks willing to play D&D with me.

That's neither here nor there, I guess. But I saw today that Gary Gygax died.

Gary Gygax co-created Dungeons and Dragons. Pretty good run for a geek. Geeks unite!

On the other end of the spectrum: Brett Favre retired from the NFL today.

When Favre started playing for the Packers in the early '90s I was a die-hard Vikings fan. I was beyond rational. While watching games I'd scream, pound on furniture, curse, and throw things. If the Vikings lost I'd get worse. Through those years it was easy to hate the Packers--stupid Wisconsinite fans, pack of cheeseheads. They drink paint thinner before games, you know. Because they're stupid. And from Wisconsin. Which is stupid.

So it was easy to hate the Packers, but it was hard to hate Favre. Even when he almost singlehandedly beat the Vikings, as he did on more than one occasion, the way he played inspired at least admiration. Tough, modest, and unpredictable--if he'd been a Viking I might have worshipped him. Unfortunately, the Vikings have been doomed to a series of barely-competent quarterbacks going back at least as far as Two-Martini Tommy Kramer.

Then in the late nineties I lost all interest in professional football. And Favre kept playing. He's older than me, you know. Maybe the last NFL quarterback who is. And now he's retiring. And that's depressing. Because he kind of embodies football in the way that my boy Kevin Garnett embodies basketball. And because guys my age shouldn't be retiring yet.

There's No "Y" In There

2008-03-04T14:17:00.005-06:00

Okay, so the last post reminded me of a recurring discussion. I've talked about this with a number of people, and the result is never satisfying. So here I'm going to bring it up again.

The word "coupon" is pronounced "koo-pon," not "kyoo-pon."

I have discused this with intelligent people and with morons. It doesn't matter--there are people of all mental abilities who say "kyoopon." But they're wrong.

The best defense of the "kyoopon" violation is that there are other words with the letter "u" that are pronounced "yoo." This is undeniably true. Take "cute" or "pure." But that's not the whole structure, is it? Both of those words move straight from the consonant sound to the letter "u." The word "coupon" does not. There's an intervening "o." Thank the French for that.

Show me another "ou" word that also contains a "y" sound in that syllable. They don't exist. Here's one my brother's been throwing around for years: You don't eat "syoop" do you? No. You eat "soop." That's right--soup. "Through" is pronounced "throo," not "thryoo."

Here's a word that has "ou" and still has a "y" sound: "You." Because there's a friggin' "y" there. There's no "y" in "coupon."

It's KOO-pon.

And this post wins the prize for most extensive use of quotation marks for the mentioning of words.

Way Too Funny

2008-03-04T14:13:00.002-06:00

I know I said I wouldn't do this anymore, but I have to post this video for all to see. Why? Because it amuses me. And it's true. I don't get sick too often, but when I do I'm a total baby about it. Whine, whine, whine. Here's a clip exaggerating that just a little bit.

Heh.

No More Whining

2008-03-03T07:24:00.006-06:00

Now that I got that last post out of my system, I'm determined not to whine anymore about the day-to-day frustrations in my life. Seriously, it's gotten to the point where I sound like a little kid. Am I entitled to a smooth ride? No. Is everything supposed to go my way? No.

Like we used to say in the navy, "Wah-fucking-wah."

So this is it. If my classes are mean to me, if traffic sucks, if the price of gas isn't what I want, you won't hear about it here. I learned a long time ago (and then have relearned at least a hundred times) that dwelling on negativity just compounds the problem. So it ends here.

No more whining.

February: The Tough Month

2008-03-02T06:06:00.009-06:00

It's been a while since I posted anything other than videos or quick blurbs about nothing. It isn't that I haven't had the time--hell, I've been working hard to find ways to put off working--but I haven't had the mental capacity to even consider what to write, let alone bother trying to compose my thoughts on a subject.

The truth is, February was a tough month. And the difficulty with February started way back in October. When we got to Norman I felt lucky to get work right away, but I still had to hold out for two and a half months before I'd get paid. We made it, even if it was stressful. Just part of living the glamorous adjunct life, I guess. But then around the middle of October I realized, "Rut-roh. That not-getting-paid thing is going to happen again at the end of January." Sure, this time I'd only go one month without pay, but could there be a worse time? Right after Christmas? Right after a planned drive to Minnesota (and all the costs that entails, even if others are entirely too generous with us). No pay going into February? The month with Valentine's Day? The month with Michele's birthday? Her first birthday ever spent out of reach of her family? A birthday that might be made easier for her if I can do something to make a big deal about it? An actual milestone birthday on top of that?

Needless to say, I've been a basket case for months (I heard that "your whole life" from the back . . .), and I considered staying behind in Oklahoma over winter break so I could find a job and just keep working--keep the difficulty to a minimum. For a number of reasons I decided that wasn't going to work out, so I made the trip and gritted my teeth for the coming depression.

And that's the funny thing about stress. Even though I knew I could make the situation more bearable by picking up a weekend job I didn't. I tried a few times, made some halfhearted stabs at some extra work, but in the end just sighed and resigned myself to a month of self-loathing.

And then one of my sections was cancelled (not enough enrolled), so I had a smaller paycheck to look forward to on the other end of February. That was nice.

Add into that strain a class that insists on challenging every announcement I make. Add to that a few job openings I needed to get myself together to apply to. Add to that my complete inability to write on any of my projects. And on top of that goes a further inability to even read productively. I was a mess. A mess of my own making.

But now it's March, and I've submitted my applications, and I see the end of this stack of grading easing over the horizon, and I got paid on Friday. So the tightness in my chest has loosened a little. I'm less likely to make a (misplaced) snarky comment to anyone (poor Michele--this was not a good month). Maybe now I can write, can spend some time thinking without my thoughts meandering off in negativity like a drunken butterfly headed for the pretty forest fire.

Maybe now I can blog. There's plenty to talk about. Even if my decision on Election Day will be a no-brainer (Obama's my first choice, but if Hillary wins the Dem nomination I have her ranked next --here's my list 1. Obama, 2. Clinton, 3. A loaf of bread, 4. Ralph Nader, . . . 389. The BTK killer, 390. Paris Hilton, 391. Carrot Top, 392. John McCain (or any other conservative)).

And it gets better: in two weeks my mom and Skiffy* and the Cat Whisperer** are driving down for a ten-day visit over Spring Break. The weather is beautiful (75 and sunny yesterday), and the trees are budding. I feel almost human. Almost.

* I need to find a better name for him. "Skiffy" was momentarily funny, but it isn't anymore and it doesn't exactly encapsulate who he is. I'm working on it.
** "The Cat Whisperer," however, stays. Because it's perfect.

Happy Birthday, Michele!

2008-02-24T07:08:00.002-06:00

Your age is now a square pyramidal number. You know--like the Egyptians' houses. Except you don't house dead people and all their material belongings for easier passage to the underworld.

Have a happy day! I love you billions.

Sir Apropos of Nothing by Peter David

2008-02-23T09:47:00.002-06:00

Michele read this book and liked it, so she recommended it to me. I like it, too. It's funny--at times it's very funny--and fast-moving enough that I didn't feel guilty for reading a diversion rather than something more serious.

One note, though: The cover boasts a comment from Publishers Weekly that reads, "[A] fast, fun, heroic fantasy satire." But this is not a satire--it's a parody. It pokes fun at the conventions of the fantasy form, but it doesn't do so in order to comment on our culture or society.

This is a more mechanical twist of the form than Terry Pratchett generally produces (because Pratchett is king), but it's an amusing read with more depth than I would have supposed prior to reading it. Definitely worth the time.

I'm Weird

2008-02-21T16:55:00.005-06:00

I've been accused of weirdness my whole life. I'm fine with that. Recently I've stopped eating meat, which makes me strange (even to myself, since I love meat so much), but it goes back a long way.

From the time I was ten years old I've been atheist. I remember reading stories from the bible when I was in Sunday school and thinking "Well, this didn't happen." And I figured everyone else was in on the joke.

Then I found out that others did think it did happen, and that there was no joke. Not intentionally, anyway.

So I'm weird. I know that. Part of my weirdness is expressed in my recent pescetarianism (seven months and counting). Here's some more of it: I'm green. Watch this. Minimize your stuff. Cynicism is the way to go. Materialism sucks. Ha.

Happy Valentine's Day

2008-02-14T15:14:00.003-06:00

I was planning a long, rambling post about the holiday, but as it turns out I just don't have the energy for it. I'm happy this V-Day, but I'm one of the lucky ones. Our culture makes it too easy for people to get depressed on a day like this: If you're single you're a failure; if you don't spend a ton of cash on your spouse/partner/significant other/stalkee you're a failure; if you can't think of something brilliant to bestow upon your lover you're insufficiently romantic, and, therefore, a failure.

Something about the promotion of conspicuous consumption as a sign of affection rubs me the wrong way. On the other hand, having a day set aside for expressing love doesn't mean one can't express it the rest of the year, so what's the real harm?

Happy Thursday.

I'm Such a Nerd

2008-02-12T14:56:00.000-06:00

I just posted a link in the sidebar. It's a YouTube link to a video about how John Locke* expanded on the philosophical thoughts of Rene Descartes and then George Berkeley** (pronounced "Barkley," because he was Irish) made a mockery of Locke. The video's pretty funny, even if the guys speak in a hard-to-understand gibber.

*Yes, the same as the name of the character on Lost. There's probably a reason for that--like Locke's a "man of faith" in both contexts.
**The University of California, Berkeley was named in George's honor, though the pronunciation has slid over the years to become "Burkley" instead of "Barkley."

More Changes

2008-02-09T13:51:00.000-06:00

I tinkered a little with my sidebar again. I deleted a few links in the "I Respect These People" field, not because I no longer respect them, but because they rarely, if ever, post anymore. I added a field for other blogs I enjoy reading, or that I find useful, but don't personally know the bloggers beyond their blogs.

I also changed the names on the sidebar to match what people's posting names would read. We'll see how these changes go.

Another New Video

2008-02-07T15:48:00.000-06:00

My distractions are generating distractions. I'm still reading Kant, and I'm still reading Sir Apropos of Nothing, but now I'm also reading William James's essay "The Will to Believe." Fascinating stuff.

Anyway, I also posted a link to a video for D.A.D.'s song "Grow or Pay." Powerful stuff.

And another link for "Jihad," which is maybe too pertinent for our time. And it's a solid rock song.

For Fans of Firefly and Indulgent Guitar Solos

2008-02-06T18:04:00.000-06:00

The first bit of news for the day is of a novel in the Firefly universe. For fans of the TV show and subsequent movie, Serenity, it should be an interesting diversion. Here are the two best parts:

1. It's free to download here.
2. It was written by Steven Brust, an accomplished fantasy author and product of Minnesota.

Actually, Steve wrote this novel hoping to have it published, but Joss Whedon decided he didn't want any novels written about his creation, so he squelched it. As a result, since Steve can't make any money on it he decided to post it online as fan fiction. Should be interesting. The comments I've read so far have ranged from appreciative to fawning, but since I read those comments on Steve's blog, that's to be expected, I guess.

The second bit is not really news. It's just a cool clip of an old concert--specifically, a Cacophony concert, and Jason Becker's guitar solo. It may be completely self-indulgent, and the spandex and big hair date this for what it is, but there's no denying the man's skill. It reminds me of my first year in the MFA program. I'm a pretty good typist. My fingers fly, and I rarely make errors. But one day I walked into 206A to the sound of machine-gun typing. Jess was on one of the computers and Jen Brown was on the other (the Crapintosh sat quiet, as usual), and they were both on fire with the typing. It really was unreal to witness two people blazing away on the keys like that, every fingerstroke finding the right key without pause. That's what Becker's solo is. Every note intentional, blazing execution. It's posted on the right sidebar.

Amazing.

Trying Not to Be Cynical

2008-02-05T19:29:00.000-06:00

I would like to think the majority of the American public is intelligent and capable of processing basic information. I'd like to think the humans who live near me have some sort of competence. And then I'm faced with this:

------ Race Results Display ------------ VOTES ----- % PRECINCTS

(DEM) FOR PRESIDENT ---------------------------------- 18 OF 2220
HILLARY CLINTON ------------------------------------------ 2,899 --- 45.49%
BILL RICHARDSON ---------------------------------------------- 97 ----- 1.52%
CHRISTOPHER J. DODD -----------------------------------------35 ----- .55%
BARACK OBAMA ------------------------------------------- 2,434 ----- 38.19%
DENNIS J. KUCINICH ------------------------------------------------ 36 ---- .56%
JOHN EDWARDS ---------------------------------------------- 804 ------ 12.62%
JIM ROGERS --------------------------------------------------- 68 ----- 1.07%

I'm not even going to get into the Republicans, because they're all idiots. But look at this. Richardson, Kucinich, Edwards, and Dodd have all dropped out.

And people are still voting for them.

Fucking idiots.

My Hero

2008-02-05T14:42:00.000-06:00

Okay, so that might be a bit dramatic. Tom Waits isn't really my hero, but he is the musician I admire most, and has been for about six years. His creativity, versatility, and quirkiness make him (to me) the musical equivalent of Flannery O'Connor and Nathanael West. You just never know where he's taking you.

So I posted his video for "Lie to Me" on the right. Actually, this is a Waits song that even Michele can like. Usually she just wants to hand him a cough drop, because his voice is so abused, but for this song he employs a clean voice. For the most part.

Just for contrast, I've included a 1977 recording of Waits singing "Tom Traubert's Blues." His voice is in fine, gurgly, gravelly form on this performance. I love it. Michele will not.

An Invisible Sign of My Own by Aimee Bender

2008-02-02T13:58:00.000-06:00

A little more than six years ago Aimee Bender visited Mankato for the Good Thunder reading series. At that time I went to every reading, but I only bought the author's book if it really had an impact on me. This book, and Bender's reading, were the best from that year--and maybe the best I saw in my Mankato years. I bought her book and waited in line for her to sign it, and I must have babbled at her for a few moments because her inscription reads:

For Jason-
Thanks for your kind words!
best,
Aimee Puglea

Actually, I'm sure that last word is supposed to be "Bender," but it wouldn't seem so without prior knowledge. If her signature got a little slapdash after so many repetitions, it didn't matter. The story she read and her reading of it were both perfect for the occasion.

The story, An Invisible Sign of My Own, is about Mona Gray, a young woman who's been motivationally paralyzed since the age of ten, the year when her father announced that he was sick (though he showed no sign of illness) and stopped doing anything. That's when Mona started quitting everything--especially the things she excelled in. Mona's a quirky woman: she knocks on wood almost constantly, she's obsessed with numbers, and for a twentieth birthday present she buys herself an ax.

Everything about this novel works, from the fairy tale prologue to the swirl of recurring motifs and images to Mona's likeable voice and believable internal struggle. It's a story driven more by dramatic tension than by a central conflict, but every moment is enjoyable and the development of the story is unlike anything else I've ever read.

Strange that I haven't picked up a copy of anything else she's written. Maybe I'm afraid the rest of her work will disappoint me after this.

A Song About My Wife

2008-01-29T17:48:00.000-06:00

Okay, so her name isn't "Janet," and she's more interested in galaxies that aren't ours, but has there ever been a woman better suited to this song on Schoolhouse Rock?

I'm pretty sure there's never been a planet Michele hasn't seen. That anyone's seen, at least.

I might call Michele "IJanet" on this blog from now on. Just cuz it's funny.

Miss Lonelyhearts by Nathanael West

2008-01-27T13:21:00.000-06:00

When I first wanted to read Nathanael West, on Diana's recommendation, I figured I'd buy the cheapest publication I could find. That was the New Directions edition with Miss Lonelyhearts and The Day of the Locust in one volume (above, on the right). Once I read those two, and then the second collection, which contains his other two novels, A Cool Million and The Dream Life of Balso Snell, I decided West is my hero and I wanted to read everything he wrote. So I bought the Library of America edition (above left) of his complete works. Now I have those four novels, notes about those novels, some screenplays, some short pieces, and some letters. I have yet to really delve into the other material, but I'm excited about "Some Notes on Miss L.," his thoughts on Miss Lonelyhearts (duh) after he wrote it, about his thoughts as he wrote it.

The best part about having read this novel right after reading Wise Blood is in seeing how the two relate. I'm not sure how direct an influence West or Miss Lonelyhearts had on Ms. Flannery, but the stories are so similar, and their respective treatments of crises of belief so fundamental to the protagonists' actions, I'd be shocked if O'Connor didn't have Miss Lonelyhearts in mind when writing her story.

Both Miss L. and Hazel Motes struggle with their religious faiths. Miss L. has believed, and wants to believe, but his belief has been broken by the letters he gets for his column and by the mocking he withstands from Shrike, his editor. Hazel Motes is the son of a preacher who wants to not believe in God and struggles his whole (short) adult life against faith. In the end, each comes to terms with belief in a series of actions that lead to their earthly destructions. Wise Blood doesn't just seem to me a similar story to Miss Lonelyhearts--it may have been written in response to it, so closely do their concerns (and even some of their imagery) relate.

And when I read these stories they pound the ideas I have for my fiction into a certain shape. I see my concerns in a new light, because they are ultimately the same as West's and O'Connor's. My protagonist isn't concerned with what he believes so much as he is what his purpose is, but that purpose ultimately derives from what he believes. My aesthetics and the central conflict of my story put it in a position to be a response to the dialogue between Miss Lonelyhearts and Wise Blood (even if I'm just imagining it). And I've been split for some time on which project needed my attention more, my novel or my belief book, but I think the dilemma is false. The novel treats the same material the belief book does, only by metaphor. My head is on fire now. I want to ingest Nathanael and Flannery and spit out a new hunk of ragged iron, another stark story of freaks finding their way, of grotesques and misfits.

The last paragraph of West's "Some Notes on Miss L.":

. . . Miss Lonelyhearts became the portrait of a priest of our time who has a religious experience. His case is classical and is built on all the cases in James' Varieties of Religious Experience and Starbuck's Psychology of Religion. The psychology is theirs not mine. The imagery is mine. Chapt. I--maladjustment. Chapt. III--the need for taking symbols literally is described through a dream in which a symbol is actually fleshed. Chapt. IV--deadness and disorder; see Lives of Bunyan and Tolstoy. Chapt. VI--self torture by conscious sinning: see life of any saint. And so on.

And just like that, I'm off again. My direction is clear. For at least the next seven minutes.

200th Post

2008-01-26T16:01:00.000-06:00

After 199 of these things in the last year and a half, I'd like to be able to say something profound on such a monumentous occasion. I don't know that I can, though. This blog has helped me keep my mind clear of the random stupidity that sometimes gets in the way of my thinking clearly, and that's good. (That's also why I sometimes go weeks at a time posting nothing but junk--I have to clear it out.)

Some random thoughts:

OCCC finally posted an opening I'd been hearing grumbles about. The position's for full-time faculty to teach Comp, Literature, Humanities, and Philosophy. Reading through the job listing is encouraging--it looks almost like the position was built for me. I'll put that delusion away, though, as I tinker with my CV and ready myself for interviewing.
Writing is going slowly, but at least I'm writing.
My Fundamentals of English classes at Rose are going to be an odd kind of challenge. On the second day of class I had the students write about where they see themselves in five years. It's a bit depressing to see almost all of them write, in one way or another, that they hate where they are and want drastic change.
Last night for dinner we had sushi and sake. That was the first time I'd ever had sake, and I'm not sure what to think of it. Michele says it tastes like tequila to her. My reaction was a little different, but sake sure isn't something you fill a goblet with and gulp down. Have to keep in mind, too, that it's a ten-dollar bottle of sake purchased in Central Oklahoma. Might not be the best quality, and who knows how long it's been on the shelf.

Have to get ready for dinner. We have a party to go to tonight, to celebrate one of Michele's colleagues passing his final PhD qualifier exam. The dreaded "E&M" qual. "E&M" stands for "Electricity and Magnetism."

Here's to hoping the next 200 posts will actually contain significant thought.

Wise Blood by Flannery O'Connor

2008-01-25T15:20:00.001-06:00

I've read this book several times, and I'll probably read it a couple more times this year. I have strong reactions to it every time through, and this time I'm trying not to analyze it too deeply. My favorite Kundera quote (from The Art of the Novel) came to mind as I wrapped up the last few pages this afternoon:

But there is an intellectual, sophisticated misomusy as well: it takes revenge on art by forcing it to a purpose beyond the aesthetic.

I feel like I appreciate my favorite authors best when I don' t carve them up, when I just let them be what they are. I don't want to think too hard about it right now, because the mystery of this kind of genius is a reward in itself.

Videos

2008-01-24T15:11:00.000-06:00

I guess I've been on a bit of an Anglophile comedy run as far as the videos go. I can't help it. Every time I see Hugh Laurie in House I think of him as Prince George or Lieutenant George from the Blackadder series.

And we were talking about the "Argument Clinic" at work the other day.

The clip from the Graham Chapman funeral is close to what I want to have at mine. A bunch of irreverence and fun. And only one dead person.

And the MP meets SW is just fun. Starts out hysterical and then gets less funny. But it's fun.

Some Random Ideas

2008-01-21T09:25:00.001-06:00

Every time I read Wise Blood I'm amazed at how unified the story is. There are other amazing things about it, but the unity is my favorite. I love how, in the beginning, Haze imagines Jesus slinking among trees, and then later he feels his heart beating "like a little ape clutching the bars of its cage," and then toward the end Enoch loses his mind, dresses in a gorilla suit, and runs out into the woods. It makes my brain throw sparks.
My novel is at 14,982 words now. I only did 500 words yesterday, but I guess I won't consider it a failure since I wasn't driven to it until later in the day.
I don't know if it was school starting or what, but all of a sudden I have too many ideas again, I'm interested in too many things, I want to do too much. It's hard to pick a direction.

On Track Again

2008-01-20T16:18:00.000-06:00

My novel's first draft, which has lain untouched for almost two months, sits at 14,584 words. My new plan is to write 1000 words every weekday and 2500 words every weekend-day until this first draft is completed.

The working title has been The Other Dead Guy for a while. I'm also considering Dead and Alive and Deadlife. Or The Deadlife of Alex Cropp. I shouldn't even be thinking of a title yet. The themes are still clanging around in my skull. All I have after a few years of considering the story is characters, settings, a plot, and some crazy description.

Oh. I guess that's a story. Except that it's mostly in note form, or still in my head. I need to remedy that.

Word count: 14,584

Portrait of an Artist, As an Old Man by Joseph Heller

2008-01-20T10:31:00.000-06:00

This is the second Joseph Heller book I've ever read. The first was Catch-22, of course. I read that once about fifteen years ago, loved it, and then never read it or anything else Heller wrote. I even tried reading Portrait a few years ago after picking it up in the bargain section of Barney Noble, but it didn't hold my interest then.

This time I was compelled from the start. Maybe because now I can identify more with Eugene Pota, the story's protagonist. He's a writer, inspired momentarily in a number of directions, but his inspiration fades quickly, leaving him frustrated and depressed. I'm not seventy-five years old, but I know the feeling of fleeting enthusiasm. Oddly enough, reading this book has energized me.

Portrait isn't a great novel, but it's interesting to me because it shows Heller's frustration and links it to the frustrations of many famous authors, most of whom died at an early age or in poverty or despair. I realize that I'm not crazy--or at least no more crazy than others who feel the need to write.

I feel like I need to pick my reading material carefully for a little while. I think I'll start with Wise Blood and then move to Miss Lonelyhearts and The Dream Life of Balso Snell. Those stories resonate with where I see my fiction taking me, and all of a sudden I'm driven to reopen my novel file and start plugging away. My mind will let me see this as a positive for a few days, until I start dwelling on the temporary abandonment of my humor book, or the essay that I started last week, or that line for a poem that charged through my head a while ago. Or I'll get overwhelmed with school again, or I'll just lose my motivation.

Or I'll keep churning away at this beast until it's finished. My choice, I guess.

Seen But Not Heard

2008-01-18T14:12:00.000-06:00

When I was a senior in high school, there was little to interest me in education. I slept through most of my classes, rarely did homework, and couldn't be bothered to pay attention to much of anything. I was better in my English classes, though (and German, come to think about it--maybe I should consider working with language as a career) especially when I was called upon to create something.

In one class I wrote a short story about a little boy who had a nightmare. This dream consisted of his being chained up in a dungeon and tortured by a demon. The only really memorable part of the story was a brazier full of burning coals, a brazier which loomed threateningly but never became significant to the story--just to its telling.

I had seen the word "brazier" any number of times. In fantasy novels and on Dairy Queen signs for the most part, but the word and its meaning were both familiar to me. I was precocious with words--I read the dictionary when I was twelve, as intrigued as I've ever been by a novel. But there was a problem.

I'd never considered how the word was pronounced.

When I read the story in front of the class, I realized at the beginning of the first sentence containing the word "brazier" that I was in trouble. When I got to the word, I read it as though I said it all the time, even though my mind was working it through a dozen pronunciations.

And that's how I uttered the phrase "a brassiere full of burning coals" in front of a class full of my bored peers. People who already had plenty of ammunition if they ever wanted to poke fun at me, which they never did because I was nearly invisible in high school--I didn't matter enough to be made fun of. Twenty-some years later I still remember that, and remember the frustration of being wrong--being publicly wrong--and have a vague awareness of my embarassment at the time for having said something risible.

I had a similar moment yesterday. During office hours I was listening to Tom* talk about how, if one were able to produce a certain kind of chemical and ingest it, one would not age because one's cells would not break down. I can't remember the name of the chemical, but it started with the letter "T." I couldn't remember the name of the chemical a few seconds after Tom said it, but I wanted to make a comment on what he said. So I did what I always do--I made a joke.

"That's my new career," I said. "I'm giving all this up and going into Thermopylae production."

Tom and Tonya both looked at me like I'd spoken (I'm struggling to think of a language here, because Tom's a linguist and his dissertation was a grammar of the Sherpa language, so most of what I can think of wouldn't seem too strange to him) Tralfamadorian.

Then Tom said, "What?"

And I said, in a somewhat less confident voice, "Thermopylae." They still didn't get it. "It's a joke," I said.

"Do you mean 'Ther-MOP-a-lee'?" Tom said.

"Sure," I said. "Tomayto, tomahto. Whatever." I realized then that I had never heard the word "Thermopylae" spoken. It always looked like ther-mo-PIE-lay to me, and I'd never questioned that. So that's what I said.

So I had to check. I knew my pronunciation was likely wrong, but I held out hope that there were alternate pronunciations of the word, and that I had stumbled onto a lesser-known one.

I was wrong. There's only one recognized pronunciation of the word. I checked here. I even listened to it.

So I learned something, anyway. And now I can pronounce both "brazier" and "Thermopylae." But really, Thermopylae is pronounced "ther-MOP-a-lee?" Really? It sounds like an ancient Greek board game. The object of which would be, obviously, to occupy and own as many stoa as possible, so when other people's tokens (chariots, cups of hemlock, and the like) landed on your property they'd have to surrender a certain amount of drachmae. I think I'll design that game now. I don't know what the specifics will be, but you don't want to land on Stoa Poikile once it's owned. Rent is a bitch. The Stoics will whoop your ass.

* I'm going to start calling Tom the "Idea Cannon" after this post. Because that's his conversational style.

If You Want To See Cool Pictures . . .

2008-01-17T15:44:00.001-06:00

Check out Michele's latest post. Pictures of Mercury from the Messenger thingy they flew past it.

Freakin' cool.

Another Video of the Moment

2008-01-17T14:36:00.000-06:00

From defunct hip-hop rock band Citizen King. Pretty entertaining video. I'll find The Refreshments, because "Banditos" needs to be there, too.
"Everybody knows that the world is full of stupid people . . ."

Plus Urge Overkill's "Sister Havana." That song is great for any era. See? The nineties weren't a total loss.

Another Change

2008-01-16T16:33:00.000-06:00

I've changed the "Video of the Week" to "Video of the Moment," because I realize I can't keep myself from updating it more often than every seven days.

The new clip is a song from Coheed and Cambria's newest album. Some metal-snobs call these guys "emo" but I don't care. They write catchy songs and they demonstrate talent at every instrument.

I'm also going to add a song inspired by the Land of the Lost TV show. It's funny.

Clearing the Cobwebs

2008-01-15T19:17:00.001-06:00

I've posted on the other blog. It wasn't a comment on Kant, like I'd intended, but a report of an incident from my workday.

Sorry if it's not interesting.

Possible Side Effects by Augusten Burroughs

2008-01-15T16:24:00.001-06:00

So he's gay, he was born in New York but spent time south of the Mason-Dixon line, and he writes about his chaotic professional life, his past drug use, his idiosyncrasies, vacations with his partner, and traveling to Europe.

And he's not David Sedaris.

Augusten Burroughs has collected some amusing essays in this collection, and some filler to go along with it. The voice is a little too contrived and self-conscious for my taste, but there are some genuinely funny moments. And some humorously genuine ones.

And though they deal with similar ideas, Burroughs isn't just a poor-man's Sedaris. They have different perspectives and different stories. They're both funny, though I think Burroughs relies too heavily on the easy joke or the shocking image, where Sedaris's humor is cleverer. If they relate at all, Burroughs might be the working-man's Sedaris. His background is a bit more squalid, his struggles earthier and more primal.

I don't feel like I wasted my time reading this book, but if someone said they intended to read both authors I'd advise them to start with Sedaris.

A New Semester

2008-01-13T10:53:00.000-06:00

I have all my ducks in a row, for the most part. My schedule was simplified last Wednesday when the Assistant Humanities Dean called to tell me I was losing my Comp II section. Now I'm teaching the two Comp I sections and two Fundamentals of English sections. I don't have much planning to worry about for Comp, now that I've taught this textbook for a semester, and Fundamentals shouldn't be too tough--less intense grading than for Comp, anyway. So I'm not worried about that.

I don't like the loss of income resulting from the change, though, so I'm going to find another part-time job for weekends. Now that we have no holidays ahead of us, no travelling to think about for a while, I can just concentrate on wage-slaving. This has been a hard year, with disruptions from the move, periods of unemployment (and underemployment), and the chaos of transferring our entire lives to a largely uncertain new setting. Now we're pulling out of it, though.

So when classes start tomorrow (and Michele sits at home because her class was canceled--boo) I'm presenting a new face. The no-nonsense, deadly-serious taskmaster.

Right.

We'll see.

Er . . . Lame

2008-01-11T12:57:00.000-06:00

I finally did this thing that I found on my brother's blog. It rates your blog like the MPAA does movies.

The justification was the use of the words "death," "dead," and "abortion."

I wonder what my rating would be if I let my mouth off its leash. It would be rated DEFCON something, I guess.

Reissues of Crimson Glory Albums

2008-01-11T12:17:00.000-06:00

Just a quick note for those few who might be interested. Apparently the first two Crimson Glory albums are being reissued by Metal Mind Productions. I've never heard the first album, but Transcendence, the second, is a classic. The only song that made it to MTV was "Lonely," the requisite ballad. But even that one shows off some serious musicianship--especially Midnight's voice (yes, the singer was called "Midnight," and the band wore silver "Phantom of the Opera" masks, but they could play).

I've linked the video for "Lonely" on the sidebar.