Sunday Burst!

Oddity and Awesome go hand in hand!

:: Andy called my attention to this (on Google Plus, no less!), and it’s hysterical: kids of today reacting to a computer from when I was their age. A nine-year-old’s take on an old-school Apple Computer? Awesome! I love the snort of derision the one kid does when he’s told where the computer’s power switch is.


:: And Roger forwarded me this howlingly funny commentary on that most evil of card games, the most demented game of chance of all…UNO. Don’t believe me?

I was at a birthday party yesterday (no, not mine, that’s in a few months from now), and the topic of discussion involved board games – the ones I loved playing as a kid (like Mouse Trap) and the ones I never got around to playing (like Candy Land). Ah, great memories of board games and card games and spinner games and “roll the dice and move six spaces” games. All fun stuff.

And then there was that ONE game. It seems like an innocuous game. You play your cards in a pattern, and hope that you don’t get stuck with a wild card before you’ve had a chance to use it.

It seems like an innocuous game.

That is, until you get into an argument with someone because their final card was a Draw Four and they used it on you as they shouted “UNO!” at you.

Ah, the wonderful game of UNO. This game has probably made more enemies, broken up more relationships, and caused more dirty looks than trying to guess who just passed wind.

I never played UNO much. I enjoyed it when I did, but it does seem to be the love-child of poker and Sorry!.

More next week!

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Hey Apple?

So you’re using the old phys-ed tune “Chicken Fat” for your commercials now, huh? Well, as the fat kid who had to endure (a) an asshole gym teacher in grade school who liked using that tune for calisthenics background music and (b) other kids then using that song to taunt me outside of gym class, you can all go f*** yourselves.

Love,
Me.

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From the Books: Danny the Champion of the World

I’ve mentioned Roald Dahl’s amazing Danny the Champion of the World in this space before, because it’s quite simply one of my favorite books of all time. To this day I read it every few years, and I still find myself drawn into Dahl’s world of a father and son living in a Gypsy caravan in the English countryside, from where they run their little petrol station. Dahl creates an entire little world here, filling young Danny’s universe with magic and love and light and, since it’s a Dahl novel, just enough adult-world scariness. I’m always amazed at how Dahl draws me into this pastoral world, getting me involved and invested before the real story even starts, when young Danny wakes up one night and realizes that Dad isn’t there. Where has he gone? Well, for that answer, I strongly recommend reading the book yourself. The answer involves pheasants and an extremely unpleasant rich guy down the road…and that’s all I’ll say.

I will, however, offer this brief passage, in which Danny describes his father.

My father, without the slightest doubt, was the most marvelous and exciting father any boy ever had. Here is a picture of him.

You might think, if you didn’t know him well, that he was a stern and serious man. He wasn’t. He was actually a wildly funny person. What made him appear so serious was the fact that he never smiled with his mouth. He did it all with his eyes. He had brilliant blue eyes and when he thought of something funny, his eyes would flash and, if you looked carefully, you could actually see a tiny little golden spark dancing in the middle of each eye. But the mouth never moved.

I was glad my father was an eye-smiler. It meant he never gave me a fake smile because it’s impossible to make your eyes twinkle if you aren’t feeling twinkly yourself. A mouth-smile is different. You can fake a mouth-smile any time you want, simply by moving your lips. I’ve also learned that a real mouth-smile always has an eye-smile to go with it. So watch out, I say, when someone smiles at you with his mouth but his eyes stay the same. It’s sure to be a phony.

Lest you think that eye-smiling is a thing that Dahl made up here…it isn’t. Eye-smiling is real. I know. And when you see one, you will, too.

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Random Thoughts on a New Life

So we’ve been “living” at Casa Jaquandor 2.0 for a bit more than a month now. Time for some random thoughts and observations!

:: Garbage. We don’t get to just toss our trash into the apartment complex dumpster whenever it’s full anymore, so now we have to know things like what day the trash gets picked up, and how they do recycling, and all that jazz. It’s not hard, actually — I’m lucky enough to live in a town that makes this sort of thing relatively easy — but there have been a few hiccups. The first week, I failed to tie the bags tightly shut, because for the last eleven years, just cinching the drawstrings and hucking the bag into the lidded dumpster was what you did. Luckily for me I’m a smart fellow, so it only took one instance of me getting home from work to trash blown all over the yard from untied bags to learn that lesson. Whoopsies!

:: Having neighbor cats can be amusing, when one of them decides to drop by and taunt our dumb lummoxes through the sliding door.


:: It’s interesting how much effort of a new place is just trying to figure out routines for normal stuff. My morning coffee ritual was taking fifteen minutes, because I had to stop in the middle of the kitchen and think it through, but now I’ve got things kind-of figured out so it’s back down to ten minutes. Ditto little things like cooking (every time I cook I find myself wondering where a particular utensil is), changing cat litters (I had this down to a science at the old place, not so much at the new, although I think I have it figured out), and so on. Walking into the bedroom and realizing I forgot to grab my book or glasses or whatever from the kitchen is more annoying when there’s a flight of stairs involved. So, for that matter, is negotiating that same flight of stairs when you have one cat who really really really likes feet. The Wife thinks that Julio is trying to kill us, and if not for all his “Cuddle and pet me!” shenanigans in the morning, I’d be inclined to agree with her.

:: I was going to post photos of some of the stuff we’ve done with our plants, but it turns out I haven’t taken any. This is a curious oversight on my part. Must fix.

:: The moon sure looks pretty above our yard.


:: A perfectly-timed rainstorm ruined my plans for grilled steak the other night. Stupid weather…but the steak, cooked indoors, was still quite good!


:: I’ve really been giving my studfinder a workout!


:: I really dig having a bathroom with a skylight. This is one of those things I liked when we first scoped out the house last winter, but I like it more and more.


(I took that photo at night, when the skylight was reflecting what was below. In this case, me.)

:: We can do little things we’ve wanted to do for years now! More complex cooking in the kitchen. Growing things. Burning wood in our new firepit. (Note to self: Assemble firepit.) And, hang our mirror.

Way back when we got married, we wanted to decorate our bedroom in a sun-and-moon motif (a motif which I still love and look for when I’m prowling about). One item that we put on our registry was an oval wall mirror with a golden sleeping-crescent-moon face to one side — quite beautiful and striking.

And we’ve never hung it.

Our first apartment had old-school plaster walls which I had no idea how to tap, and at our next two apartments, we really had other fish to fry — new jobs starting and ending, The Daughter being born and being a toddler, moving twice in nine months, et cetera. For various reasons, that poor mirror languished in its original box for years.

Until now. Specifically, until last night.


Slowly, surely, we’re figuring this whole “house” thing out. There are still some headaches — more shelving to install in my library closet so I can set up proper storage in there, figuring out why the wall switch in the garage is set up so you can’t turn on the light in the garage unless you also turn on the light outside the garage door, et cetera, et cetera, and so it goes.

And so it goes, this life at home.

Home. I like the sound of that.

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If at first you Khan’t succeed….

Over at Tor.com, Emily Asher-Perrin suggests a way to make Khan’s presence in Star Trek Into Darkness make more sense.

There are 72 other super humans who Khan calls “family.” They were of all backgrounds and talents, an entire pantheon of super peoples. If one of them was woken up, not knowing when it was or what he would be asked to do, isn’t it possible that he might lie? That he might tell a powerful military leader in Starfleet that he was Khan Noonien Singh? We know that Khan’s exploits were legendary—of all these genetically engineered people, he was considered to be the Attila, the Alexander, the Caesar. Pretending to be him would likely buy you more respect, more time to figure out what was going on. It would be a smart move that could keep your people alive. The sort of move that a super man might employ when woken from a deep freeze a few hundred years in the future.

I have to admit that I’m starting to feel a little sorry for STID. From what I can see, conventional opinion in geek circles is starting to settle on this being quite possibly the single worst Trek film ever. Earlier this week saw the 25th anniversary of Star Trek V: The Final Frontier, which has always been roundly hated (although not by me). In every discussion I’ve seen of that anniversary, though, almost immediately someone suggests that STID was worse. And yes, I had a lot of problems with the script. But yeesh, the film was at least well-made; I find watching it enjoyable, which is something I certainly can’t say for Star Trek Nemesis.

But back to Ms. Asher-Perrin’s retconning of STID. Of course, its success hinges on the writers wanting things to make sense, and in two of these scripts, we now know that “making sense” isn’t something that matters all that much to Orci or Kurtzman (not to mention Damon Lindelof, who is singularly incapable of writing anything that makes a modicum of sense).

If it turned out that this man was not Khan, then all of his behaviors in the film would suddenly ring more true. Here is an individual, damaged by his circumstances and alone, afraid of losing the only people like him in the universe. He is lashing out against everyone who used him or cornered him. Without the weight of Khan’s original (very different) incarnation hanging over him, this character can be his own thing. And all that wishy-washy indecision that led to the stunt secrecy surrounding his identity in the first place could be put to bed. And we wouldn’t suddenly have to wonder how an alternate reality could change the ethnicity of a character born hundreds of years before the skewed timeline.

I suppose…but then, Ms. Asher-Perrin wraps up with this:

But better yet, we would also know that Khan was still out there… somewhere. And that would always be hanging over our heads, a perfectly poised hammer ready for whenever he was needed.

See, here’s my problem with this: the inflation of Khan into the supervillain of all of Star Trek — or, at least, this generation of Trek. Thanks to one notable episode of the original series and one very good movie, Khan has somehow become elevated to basically being Moriarty to Kirk’s Holmes, or Blofeld to Kirk’s James Bond. And that’s just wrong. These filmmakers clearly see Khan as Kirk’s ultimate nemesis, but Kirk — and Trek isn’t about defeating the villain-of-the-week. Sometimes it can be about that, but not always, and ever since Wrath of Khan, Trek seems to be fixated on this idea of “who will the villain be”, right down to bringing in illustrious actors to play the villains each time out.

That’s my problem with this bit of retconning: it would keep Khan out there as a potential bomb to go off. How long could these writers, who have shown zero understanding of Star Trek other than as single movie as a source of memes and tropes to be mined.

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A Random Wednesday Conversation Starter

I had a discussion pop up on a friend’s Facebook page yesterday about this, so I thought I’d toss it to you folks: What do you think of the band Journey, and specifically, the song “Don’t Stop Believin'”? (Personally, I can take or leave the band — they’re OK, but nothing I ever choose to listen to — but that song has become so ubiquitous as to make me groan every time I hear its opening bars!)

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And now, the walls!

Now that all the books are squared away, my focus in getting my library the way I want it is stuff for the walls. It began with my Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace poster, which faces my desk:


And now, it’s been joined! A number of years ago — too many years, as a matter of fact — The Wife gave me a similar poster for the Star Wars Episode IV: A New Hope 1997 special edition release, when the films got all new poster art by Drew Struzan. This poster languished for years, for lack of a place to put it in Old Casa Jaquandor, and for lack of a suitable frame. Well, I have now resolved both issues, and the poster hangs proudly to the left of my desk!


What’s left? A few more small pieces of Star Wars art (which need matting and framing), another item I want badly but still need to order, and a small wall-mounted shelf for the spaceships and action figures. Also, I need to get some kind of shelving for the closet in this room so I can set up my personal archive a bit less haphazardly.

Meanwhile, I’ve been firing up the writing engines of late, getting that engine back on track…but more on that later!

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Sunday Stuff That’s Weird and Cool

Time for some oddball stuff, eh?

:: Roger e-mailed me the links to these first two items. First, it turns out that this week’s surprise re-emergence of Bill Watterson onto the comics page had a charitable side to it. The original Pearls Before Swine strips done by Watterson and Stephan Pastis are being auctioned to raise money for Michael J. Fox’s charity, which focuses on research into Parkinson’s Disease. The connection here is cartoonist Richard Thompson, whose work on the amazing strip Cul De Sac was brought to an end by Thompson’s struggle with that same disease. This story just gets better and better.

:: This is just plain weird: a guy in Australia who takes weird recipes sent to him from all over, prepares them, and sees what’s what. In this case, a gonzo variation on Pigs-in-a-Blanket, I suppose. I’m not sure I’m going to try this.

(OK, fine. I’m totally going to try this. But not for a while. I’m going to pretend that I still have standards, once in a while.)

Thanks for the links, Roger!

:: This is a great prank. Kudos to the kids who executed this. I like pranks that are funny and weird, but not hurtful.

More next week!

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ForgottenStars.net

The official site of Kelly Sedinger: Reader, writer, photographer, and dreamer

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