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While I’ve got SDB’s latest foray into foreign policy on my mind, I note that he addresses the question of “Just where are all those WMDs of which we had such incontrovertible evidence before the war, anyway?” I find his answers, well, unconvincing and chilling.

To his credit, SDB doesn’t engage in any weird “He moved ’em all to Syria” theory; he ends up conceding that, in all likelihood, the WMDs simply aren’t there to be found. He even goes so far as to note that “One can do the right thing for the wrong reason”. Well, the problem with that is that if one does the right thing for the wrong reason, then one tends to form a better impression of the reasoning process that went awry than is really warranted. And also, it hardly helps matters that the original rationale was founded very solidly on WMDs, and only after-the-fact is the revisionism starting up (“We did it because Saddam was/is a horribly heinous man”, an assertion which, while true, immediately raises the question of just why we’re not chomping at the bit to start going after all the other heinous people in power around the globe).

But then, SDB claims that this isn’t even the case, because WMDs were never the real reason for going to war against Iraq in the first place, and neither, apparently, was Saddam’s status as a heinous dictator. It was the whole neo-con Domino-theory, “Iraq-as-step-one-to-defeating-the-Arab-world” strategy all along. One wonders, then, if Islamic terrorism did not exist, but leaving all other things equal, if we’d have given a rat’s ass about Saddam one way or the other in the first place.

And anyway, if this was our real reason the whole time, doesn’t it say something that President Bush would never actually stand up and admit as much? If this was the real reason, why did we constantly have to read about Rumsfeld and Wolfowitz battling Colin Powell for GWB’s soul? If the whole aim all along was to jump-start the Islamic world into the 21st century, why would the President of the United States never stand up and actually say, “Our goal here is to jump-start the Islamic world into the 21st century”?

SDB is pretty sure he knows where the United States should go, and he thinks it’s the same place that the Administration thinks the United States should go. So isn’t it a little odd that we only ever hear this theory as to where the United States should go not from the President, but from several of his underlings? Isn’t SDB bothered at all by the fact that, even if this strategy is the “real reason we went to war” (which I’m far from convinced it is), that the Administration, when faced with the task of leadership on this strategy, opted for bullshitting the American people?

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Here’s something I’ve noticed since I entered Blogistan: a phenomenon I call “Bait-and-Switch Blogging”. This is where a blogger starts off a post talking about one thing, but later turns out to be not talking about that thing at all but merely bringing it up as an example of, or proposition in an argument for, some other thing.

Bill Whittle does this a lot — in fact, I cited him doing it the other day, and as usual, I found the bait a lot more interesting than the inevitable “And that leads me to what’s wrong with liberals” stuff that constitutes the second part of this particular post. The same thing happened in his post a few months back that paid tribute to the Columbia astronauts, although in that case he got the post back on track at the end in one of the more haunting posts I’ve encountered since I’ve been doing this. My advice on reading Whittle is this: By all means read him, but as soon as you detect the gears switching to “Time to beat the liberals”, look away.

But the master of Bait-and-Switch Blogging is SDB, who does this with astonishing regularity. Today’s entry is a case in point: I start reading it, thinking he’s still discussing the logical ramifications of and justification for atheism, specifically as it pertains to inductive versus deductive reasoning, but before long, we’re back into the dreary old “Why French people are goons” and “Why Jacksonianism rules” and all the rest of it. I almost think SDB would do well to write the interesting stuff, followed by a sentence like “It therefore follows that….”, in turn followed by a link to one of his former screeds. Just a thought.

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Time to indulge a bit of Star Wars geekness. “Attack of the Geeks”, you could say….(stop groaning.)

Anyway, I’ve seen some complaints regarding Darth Vader, R2-D2, and C-3PO lodged on various message boards, newsgroups, blogs, newspaper articles, and smoke-signals since Attack of the Clones came out, and I’m now going to address them. The complaints are:

1. Why doesn’t Vader recognize Artoo and Threepio in the original trilogy, especially if he built Threepio?

2. Why don’t Artoo and Threepio recognize Vader as their former master?

3. Why does Threepio claim, in A New Hope, that he’s not very good at telling stories, when he manages to captivate those Ewoks in Return of the Jedi when he sums up the story for them?

4. Since when the hell can Artoo fly with those little rockets of his?

OK. Since I was good enough to list the questions and number them, I shall now tackle them out of the order in which I posed them. Deal with it.

First off, Number Three. This one’s easily explained. Look at the Ewoks: these guys would probably be entranced by Ben Stein reading Goodnight Moon. Threepio’s not exactly working to a sophisticated audience here, and if Han and Leia look entranced, well, it’s because they’re hearing their own lives being told here. Basically, Joe Blow can probably entrance his kids with stories, but that doesn’t make him Stephen King.

Allrightie-then, on to Number Four: Artoo’s rocket-jets. Yeah, that was a bit of a shock; but then, I’m drawing a blank in the original trilogy and in The Phantom Menace as to an instance of when his rocket-jets would have been especially handy. I’ve seen it suggested that he could use them to get up and down stairs, but those rockets are pretty small. That would probably be a waste of his fuel. I expect he’s got them for emergencies only, and besides, given the decade or so that passes between Episode III and ANH, those rockets may well have been removed. Easy enough. I really didn’t have a problem with the rockets.

Which brings us to Numbers One and Two: why don’t the droids and Vader recognize each other?

First of all, the Star Wars films pretty well establish that these droids aren’t particularly unique. Consider: just about every small ship flies with an astromech droid implanted within it; the Queen’s ship in TPM comes equipped with something like six of the little guys; et cetera. They are common enough that the Jawas are carrying a few around with them in their peddling ventures, and Uncle Owen isn’t particularly impressed with what he sees.

As for Threepio, he’s run-of-the-mill too: droids of his type lurk in the background all over the Star Wars universe, so he’s fairly unremarkable, too. So, when Vader sees them, is there really any reason to suppose that he would immediately recognize them? Even since Threepio doesn’t even look the same in the original trilogy as he does in the prequel trilogy? (Of course, Episode III could well contradict this point.)

And that point is probably academic, because when you really think about it, Vader never gets an opportunity to recognize the droids. In the original trilogy, he is never on screen with them, except for one time: he and Threepio are both present for Han Solo’s carbon-freezing. But even then, Threepio is in pieces and strapped to Chewbacca’s back. Vader, in all likelihood, doesn’t get a good look at Threepio, seeing as he’s got a lot of other things on his mind. After Han is frozen and turned over to Boba Fett, Vader instructs Lando Calrissian to “take the Princess and the Wookiee to my ship”. No mention at all of the droid, who is likely not even a blip on Darth Vader’s radar.

About the only other time, in the original trilogy, that Vader could possibly recognize the droids would be in ANH, if he happened to spot them making their way for the Millennium Falcon in the Death Star landing bay. But seeing as how Vader, at this time, is fighting his old teacher with a lightsaber, I’m inclined to think he doesn’t see them. (Of course, what a funny scene that would make:

BEN: You can’t win, Darth. If you strike me down I shall become more powerful than you could possibly imagine.

VADER: Sure, I…hey! Those are my droids! You old bastard, you stole my droids! Man, that’s just like you — always a goofy lecture, and then you steal my droids! You ever build a droid with your bare hands? Huh? Hey, you dumb-ass stormtroopers, instead of watching me kill this old guy, how about you go get those damn droids before they get on the ship!

And so on….)

Finally, as to the droids not recognizing Vader, well, it’s pretty obvious their memories are erased between the trilogies. But then, I seriously doubt that Vader’s actual identity is a matter of common knowledge in the Star Wars galaxy. If it was, I’d expect Princess Leia to know it before I’d expect these two droids to know it.. (She is a Senator and all.) Then, of course, when Luke shows up to rescue her, she’d say something like, “Your name is Luke Skywalker? Wait a minute — that’s Vader’s last name! Get away from me!”

OK, I think I got that bit of geekiness out of my system.

(But wait: are dia-nogi standard issue for the sewage systems on Imperial starships and space-stations?)

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Is anyone besides me having trouble loading BlogSpot blogs the last few days? I’m hitting “Reload” a lot to get them to show up, and Joseph Duemer’s blog isn’t loading for me at all.

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Short Fiction Month Update:

I’ve delved into science fiction in the last couple of days. Ray Bradbury’s “The Million Year Picnic” was a particularly fascinating story set on Mars; one of these days I really should delve deeper into Bradbury. (I’ve only read a handful of his short stories over the years.) Andre Norton’s Mars story, “Mousetrap”, puts an intriguing spin on the old “Prospector on Mars” bit. I also read two short ones by Arthur C. Clarke, an old favorite of mine whom I haven’t read much in a long, long time: “The Secret”, which involves some bit of mystery on the Moon (a plot device which might well have been partly recycled into 2001: A Space Odyssey), and “Reunion”, a one-pager that takes the old idea that humans were originally “seeded” on Earth by aliens and gives it a little twist at the end that probably hit a lot harder in 1971, when the story first appeared, than now. (These stories are available in the second volume of The SFWA Grand Masters, a three-volume set that I find indispensible.)

Finally, I read a very impressive novella the other night: “The Chief Designer”, by Andy Duncan. (I read it in The 19th Annual Year’s Best Science Fiction, but the novella is also available on line.) This story explores the fascinating early days of spaceflight, from the vantage point not of the more familiar Americans (told in The Right Stuff, among other places) but that of the Soviets, focusing on the shadowy figure known to the West only as “The Chief Designer”. This is the genius who, although totally unknown, always seemed to be one step ahead of the Americans in those early days of spaceflight. Duncan paints a thoroughly compelling portrait of this man that is, so far as I can tell, factually accurate, beginning with the rescue from the Stalin gulag of the political prisoner who would go on to become the driving force behind the Soviet Union’s early dominance of the space race. Duncan’s story is particularly moving in the way he manages to portray the Chief Designer’s elusive nature, even to those who knew him.

Another fascinating story in the same Year’s Best anthology is Maureen F. McHugh’s “Interview: On Any Given Day”, which takes the form of an interview with a teenage girl living in 2021. This story is notable for its extrapolation of a future world based on what the world right now looks like, and for the blending of such with attitudes and views that seem to be universal to teenagers, no matter when they live. (By the way, this year’s round of Year’s Best anthologies should start appearing sometime over the next month or so.)

Next up: I revisit Edgar Allan Poe’s prose fiction.

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I have a question: Why, in the course of spending over 6500 words theoretically defending the concept of reason, in which one starts promisingly but eventually veers off (and predictably, at that) into a tiresome tirade against liberals, would you invoke NPR, of all things, as your catch-all, “Look at them stoopid libruls” shorthand insult? Especially when those stoopid libruls probably aren’t that much more enamored of NPR than you are?

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You’ve worked as a policeman your whole life, protecting the innocent, enforcing the law. You retire with honors, then take a job as a security guard, working the metal detector on the ground floor of a skyscraper in order to help pay for your wife’s arthritis medication. You’re sitting there, on a slow day, reading your newspaper, when a girl walks in wearing a trenchcoat. She issues no demands, no warnings, no “freeze” or “drop your gun.” She just tears you in half with a spray of machine-gun fire, then does cartwheels along the walls while killing all your friends.

Somewhere, faintly, you can hear a theater audience cheering.

That’s from Fifty Reasons to Avoid The Matrix Reloaded. And then follow the links to 50 Reasons Lord of the Rings sucks.

For extra credit, seek out the review of Attack of the Clones. Hilarity beyond compare.

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I’m a bit conflicted here: I should hate Jane Galt, because she got a job (whereas I am still without money-generating activity), but then, she’s just reduced the freelancing talent pool (assuming she was a freelance writer, a point on which I am unsure) by going back to actual employment, in which case, I should be thankful to her.

So, Jane, congratulations, good luck, and I hate you.

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