Archive for October, 2005

That other BSG nerd in the Nashosphere made me take this quiz.

I weep because they are so right about me.

You scored as Capt. Lee Adama (Apollo). You have spent your life trying to life up to and impress your Dad, shame he never seemed to notice. You are a stickler for the rules. But in matters of loyalty and honour you know when they have to be broken.

What New Battlestar Galactica character are you?
created with QuizFarm.com

Imagine, QuizFarm is able to cut to the root of my pain so easily. In spite of my love for dangerous women…

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Anne Rice has found Jesus and is writing a book about it. Not that there isn’t already a pretty thorough book about the Guy, where He comes from and who His parents are. But as most authors know, finding a plot can sometimes be difficult, so why not work with well-outlined source material to come up with your next series of works?
Besides which, the entire publishing industry is viewing religious literature as the lifeboat for its sinking sales. Apparently God and miracles and finding your salvation after lots o’ steemeeee secks are the greatest things to move off the shelves. Well, that and graphic novels. And who among us, besides Neil Gaiman, can draw?

I am such the jealous brother of the prodigal son on this one. We’re killing the fatted calf for Anne’s return to the faith? When the rest of us aren’t stinking rich from fairy tale and vampire erotica? Convenient of her to find Jesus now that she’s gotten loads o’ dough and there’s plenty more cash to be made. All that being said, I agree with the commentor at Donald Sensing’s who says that perhaps she’ll raise the quality level of Christian fiction a few notches. I’d like to see that.

I read most Christic literature and paraBiblical work i can get my hands on, because the topic of Who Jesus Was is as fascinating to me as the topic of Who Christ Is. I’ll read Anne’s books. Probably from the library, though.

UPDATE I Gaiman can’t even draw. TRACER!!!!!

UPDATE II Overheard at Lunch:
Me: So Anne Rice is only writing books about Jesus now.
Unidentified Lunch Partner: Well, I hope Jesus enjoys having a vampire shove a whip up his butt.

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Random Wha?!?

I thought Bill Hobbs was quitting. He’s the workingest quit man I ever saw.

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Blogelo is the Hula Hoop of Today.

Yeah, so what….I wasn’t even listed until I added myself. Not that I suffer from an overinflated sense of self-importance or anything. Unlike some people I didn’t spend all day trying to boost my ranking. Primarily because I didn’t, and still dont, understand how.

Now, I get that the whole deal is based on the Elo system for rating comparative players. I first heard of Elo in relation to Go several years ago, and now it’s everywhere in relation to chess.

It strikes me as odd to try to forcibly apply Elo to blogging because it’s a Game Theory measurement. It involves comparative rankings based on a system of wins and losses. Now, I’ve had some bad posts in my day, up to and most probably including this one. However, posting is not a zero-sum game. Okay. Sometimes it’s a zero-all game. But we’re not talking about Daily Kos right now.

Right now we are talking about how I feel like an overgrown toddler easily distracted by sparkly colors on shiny objects. “Look, mommy! There’s my blog. It’s ranked number 27.” I have no idea how this ranking happened…external links? Sitemeter hits? number of people who generally think I’m an jerk? Cause I gotta tell you, if we’re going with the Jerk Index I woulda thought Ida been higher up.

Please, Some Geek In Tennessee, please explain to us bottom feeders (okay, just me….) how on earth this works and how in the world we can all gang up and unseat the Vandy Alum Champ.


So he explains it all right here in the blog section. Good to know that I figured out how to read this late in the game. Still not seeing how a zero-sum rating system can be strictly applied to blogging, though. But I know in my heart I’m as good as, say, Slashdot. hahahahahahaha!!!!!

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In searching for a place to rip off my banner graphic for the previous post I came across the wallpaper/cover art for the Goblet of Fire Soundtrack.


Harry and Hermione are not a couple. They have never been a couple. Only in the twisted minds of Rita Skeeter and some crazy people who apparently don’t catch on quickly to the written word have they ever been a couple.

I am just sure that I’m late to this bandwagon of WB abuse seeing as how I’ve been on Pottersabattical and missed all the premovie blow-by-blow over at Muggle Net, HPANA, etc. But still. I’m adding my two knuts to the pot.


Should be “WHOM”. I forget my grammar when indignant.

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Connie Lane is a Steve Kloves apologist. Many fans place the blame for the movies’ wild off-course veering squarely on the scriptwriter’s shoulders. Connie has written a painstaking defense of his work to tell us why we shouldn’t. There are several scenes that should be included, written by Kloves, that were left out. They do more to further the true romance of Ron and Hermione, the humourous and witty character of Ron and the magical nature of the books. Yet somehow, some way, these scenes were left out of the movies, giving us instead the non-canonical HoYay! of Remus and Sirius, along with the Eejit!Ron the filmgoers have come to know.

I still blame Kloves. And Warner Bros. And the directors. And even Rowling. Sorry. I don’t know how much say she actually has in every aspect of the projects, but I gather from interviews and press reports that it is considerable. Surely she could have spoken up for Ron’s integrity, and for the better background of the Ron/Hermione romance we know to be lurking.

I’m rereading the books, as I do every October and have come to the conclusion that the books and movies just simply can’t be judged by the same standard. As I said over at Connie’s, the movies are interesting glimpses into someone else’s imagination of different pieces of the books. Just as fan art shows us visual concepts of scenes, so do the movies. I’ll still see them, but as far as my imagination of the books goes, I have more in common with the [Book 6 Spoilers In Links] magnificent stuff Marta has done over at Art Dungeon.

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Why I Gave Up

Comment word verification is back on because one of the countless blogspammers I’ve so blithely ignored has sent some spam that has corrupted my inbox.

If I can ignore you, fine. Spam to your [where your heart would be chose other organ]’s content. When you start sending things that fark up my life I must move past you. Your freedom to swing your spam ends where my inbox begins. Or something like that.

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It’s Monday morning. Chances are you are up and going to a job. If you are, it’s highly likely that most of your job consists of what Neal Stephenson calls “making license plates”–i.e. the boring stuff you have to do to earn enough money to live. Most people have a dream that keeps them going. Some are grandiose, like buying a boat to sail around the world or owning a bar in Key West. Some are the more mundane necessities of keeping a house, buying braces for your kid or eating more than peanut butter and government cheese. (For the record, I love government cheese. Why can’t we buy the stuff on the open market?)

I think I have the most masochistic long-range goal ever imaginable, at least for a writer. I want to own a used book store. Sure, nothing enforces your perspective better than staring at the wrinkled and dusty yellow corpses of other people’s work. The upside is seeing the life of a book continue. Not every book is To Kill A Mockingbird. They don’t all have treasured places in someone’s heart. But most books can be a goood way to spend an afternoon or a plane ride and giving someone something to take their mind off their own license-plate making is no bad thing.

People come to used book stores because they want a book. Sometimes they want to take a chance on a new author without paying full price. Sometimes they want to catch up on all the stuff they’ve missed. I want to be the person who putters around among the old words and is there to give them a second chance. It’s not as glamourous as Key West but it’s still a ncie little dream.

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My sister is one of my best friends. She’s a smart cookie who is capable of a great many things. She decided to become an elementary school teacher. Since I don’t have human children, Miss Bee (not Aunt B.) is my only link to the world of lower education. I’m thinking about her today because of the focus in the Nashosphere on ADD, gender learning differences, and education in general.

Miss Bee is the living embodiment of Lisa Simpson. Like Hermione, her boggart would be a piece of homework with a grade lower than A+. She is a fanatic about the psychology of early childhood development and loves all things related to educational theory. She graduated college with a Summa Cum Laude, in spite of her one non-A grade in, of all things, Badminton. (Life sure gave her the birdie on that one! Ha!) Her whole career, including college, she has been mired with people who wanted an easy college degree without the hassle of calling Sally Struthers’ toll-free number. For a woman who takes education very seriously it rubs salt in the wound to see these people get and keep the better jobs more easily. Here’s how it works: you have someone who isn’t particularly great at the harder courses in college. They love crafts, they love activities and they love extended art projects. Like scrapbooking, bulletin board design and decorative theming. There’s precious little call for home ec, so these people (generally women) take it on the road. They become elementary school teachers. And they get a job in a school where people like them (call them the “crafties”) outnumber people like Miss Bee 3 to 1. Kids in Miss Bee’s kindergarten learn to read. They learn basic math skills and foundational geometry. They learn social responsibility. She spends an additional 8 hours every day after the the busses pull away to design lessons tailored to the abilities and needs of each of her 40 kids in two kindergartens. The kids in her fellow teacher’s ( A Crafty) class are making an art project to present to the principle for Bosses’ Day. The project has nothing to do with developing skillsets other than that particular teacher’s suckup ability. Yet which teacher do the parents rave about the most? Yep. The Crafty. Because the kids “have a blast” in her class. They “come home happy”.

Where I’m going with this is that I know the world is a big place but people are the same all over. I’m sure that in elementary schools across the country, parents are satisfied with having their kids come home happy. They like going to the schools and seeing the classrooms designed to be a mock 100-Acre Wood. I was dumbfounded on our recent tour of Miss Bee’s schools. Elementary School classrooms look less like a school and more like an extension of the idealized nursery. Who cares that a 6 year old can’t tell the difference between a square and a rectangle, can’t count past 10 and only knows 11 random letters of the alphabet? What does it matter, as long as there are construction paper-and-glitter monuments to their adorable youth, filed away in mothers’ scrapbooks? Children expect to be entertained, and dislike the discipline of learning. Teachers who don’t want to mess with behaviour problems are more than happy to drug and paste away the fidgets of a normal child. No child may be left behind, but apparently they are moving ahead with little idea where they’re going.

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I know I’ve been really bad about not following the news lately. Delay–yawn. Miers–yawn. Rove/Plame/etc–who cares? But this, this is news to make me sit up and take notice. Apparently Barbie and Ken may get back together in the spring of ’06. Their 43-year long courtship has been frought with peril and more little pink houses than John [Couger] Mellencamp ever dreamed. Yet after standing by her crotchless man for four decades, Barbie moved on to a bloke called “Blaine”. This Australian Boogie Border is a surfer by day, partier by night. To me he sounds like a no-good wastrel. Who wants to be involved with a roving beach bum? I know when I hear “globtrotting surfer” I imnediately think of comfort, security and committment.

But these pictures show the Ken of Barbie’s long-suffering affections. Gee, I can’t imagine why THIS guy was loathe to settle down with that conniving coke-whore clotheshorse! If this guy isn’t the number one possesor of a Queer Eye, I have no idea who is. All he needs is a white tiger or an ostentatious piano.

Did I mention that my parents never let me have a Barbie when I was a kid because they were either to exploitative or expensive? (Depends on the day you ask) I’m hurt that I missed out on all of this high drama. But I’m sure glad that the Associated Press was there to keep me informed.

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