We could quibble all day on who shot first….

I’ve been waffling on whether or not to write this post, as part of it involves blogging about work, which I’m not generally thrilled to do, but I don’t think that the relevant work details are especially sensitive, so here goes.

A few weeks back, the fine folks at Cultural Compulsive Disorder (one of my favorite pop-culture blogs, by the way) decided that it would be cool to show all six Star Wars movies in their favorite bar. They were going to make a thing out of this — they put up flyers, and so on. Come to the bar, buy drinks or snacks or whatever, and watch Star Wars for free.

Unfortunately — but, I think, fairly predictably — Lucasfilm caught wind of this and issued a cease-and-desist letter. Now, they got their details wrong, thinking that this was to be a charged-admission event, but still, the writing was on the wall: No public screening of Star Wars without permission. Naturally, this didn’t go over well with the CCD guys, although they are complying.

Cal (of Canadian Cave fame) commented on this, and I left the following comment (slightly revised) in response.

Firstly, there’s an awful lot of blasting of Lucas personally here and on CCD. I suspect that Lucas in all likelihood personally knows absolutely nothing about this whole affair, and that this is the work of a legal department and nothing else. And the fact is, this isn’t an abnormal thing to happen. It may suck, but it’s not unheard-of or out of the blue.

Here’s a true story. I work at a big grocery store, as you may know, which is part of a pretty large chain in the Northeast US. A couple of years ago, someone at corporate thought it would be cool to have “Movie Nights” on Fridays in our cafe’s. We’d show a movie in the cafe, something “family friendly”, the idea being that parents would bring their kids to watch the movie and maybe buy a meal or two to eat in the cafe. I’m not sure how it’s worked out in terms of increasing sales, but it’s worked fairly well at least as far as getting people to come watch the movies.

Some stores show their movies on a large flatscreen teevee, but the fellow who was store manager at the time had a “Go big or go home” type of philosophy, so at his command, we went all out. We bought a commercial corn popper. Two dozen bean-bag chairs to be put out for kids to use. A large carpet to roll out (our cafe’s floor is quarry tile). And for screening? We installed a 16′ by 9′ screen, a ceiling-mounted projector, and a home-theater sound system with five surround speakers and a subwoofer. (I got to install all that, along with the help of another guy. It was actually a really fun project to do.) Attendance at our movie nights has been hit-or-miss (we do one or two a month, packing ’em in sometimes and not so much other times), but for quality of the set-up, we’re top-notch.

But about six months ago, we got a letter from the MPAA. They weren’t telling us to stop, but they were notifying us that since we (the company, not my store specifically) were screening movies for more than 25 people at once, this constituted a “public screening”, and thus, we had to pay for the privelege. So now, the company must pay some money to the MPAA every time one of our stores has a movie night. It’s not a huge amount — our company can easily afford it — but still, those are the rules. Oh, and there was one other rule: No screening of Disney movies is allowed. Period. And that includes Pixar, unfortunately. Disney, apparently, said “No free screenings of our films.”

None of this is meant to be a defense of Lucasfilm’s reaction, but, unfortunately, that’s the lay of the land, and has been for quite some time. In all honesty, I do think that the fine folks at CCD should, when dreaming this idea up, have contacted Lucasfilm first to ask permission to have a free screening of the movies in a bar. Those disclaimers at the beginning of every movie on home video since the early days of VHS — “This film is licensed for private viewing only” — are easily dismissed, but legal departments of production companies take them seriously.

I obviously have no idea if Lucasfilm would have OK’d a free screening of Star Wars in a bar or not. I’ve seen screenings of the films advertised occasionally around town, though, so I would think they’d be at least somewhat open to the idea. Again, I don’t know — but I do know that this sort of thing is part of the whole copyright landscape these days, and that organizers of such events are best advised to proceed with caution and get permissions.

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Something for Thursday

A bit of film music today, from the movie Aliens.

I’ve written before that I’m not a big fan of the Alien franchise. The first one I generally find dreary, slow, and not terribly effective upon repeat viewings. I’ve read a lot of defenses of the film that seem to come from an almost Freudian perspective, so many actually that I’ve now come to refer to Alien in my head as Attack of the Killer Space Vaginas. I’m not convinced.

Alien 3 is complete garbage, just another dipping-into-the-well that makes zero sense and worse, starts off by immediately killing the characters we’d come to care about in the previous film. I’ve never even attempted seeing the fourth one, any of the Alien vs. Predator exercises in lunacy, and I have no interest in Ridley Scott’s apparent Alien prequel.

But I did recently watch Aliens, the second film in the series, for the first time in maybe ten years. This one was written and directed by James Cameron, and it remains my least favorite of his films. But I do respect Aliens a bit more now, for the slick action entertainment it is. I was struck at how little gore there actually is in Aliens, for one thing. I do still have problems with the movie — mainly the way the plot just unfolds in a fashion that is almost grimly predictable. Everything that happens is telegraphed way before it does so; witness the awful foreshadowing of the movie coming to a crashing halt just to make sure that we all know that Ripley’s got some serious forklift-mecha suit-handling skills. Aliens has almost no surprises and mainly succeeds on the strength of the direction, the cast, the effects, and James Horner’s score.

Even there, though, we find problems. I’ve read that Horner had very little time to write the music, which serves as an excuse, but it’s still the case that listening to his music to Aliens is basically like listening to a greatest-hits compilation of Horner’s film music work to that point. He wasn’t a big name at this point; his highest profile work was for Star Treks II and III, but both of these are virtually quoted verbatim in Aliens. It gets awfully distracting at times — but there are still spots in the score where Horner gets it dead on. Perhaps the most famous of these, among film music fans, is the music that accompanies the final escape from the planet surface. It’s one of the best “climactic scene” bits of scoring I know. Here’s “Bishop’s Countdown”.

By the way, there’s a part in the movie where Newt, the little girl, slips into an air duct that goes down quite a ways. She screams as she slides down the metal tube, leaving Ripley (Sigourney Weaver) screaming in horror that she’s lost the girl she’s sworn to protect. Apparently during filming, the actress playing Newt found dropping down that tube a blast, so she purposely kept screwing up the scene so she could keep doing it. James Cameron finally had to promise her that if she got the scene right this time, she could spend the rest of the day playing on her new slide. I love movie-making stories like that!

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Let there be light!

Here’s a nice article about the next wave of indoor lighting, the natural-spectrum LED bulb. These will almost certainly be supplanting even the compact fluorescent bulb within five or ten years. They’re available right now in smaller wattages, but a 100W version is coming. (That’s wattage equivalency, not actual wattage of the bulb. We should really discuss bulbs in terms of lumens, rather than wattage.)

I switched Casa Jaquandor over to CFLs entirely (except for our dining room light, which is on a dimmer) a few years ago. I’ve never had a problem with fluorescent light, and I especially prefer the ones that enclose the spiral tube in a bulb that softens the light. I find the light quality indistinguishable from regular incandescents, and I actually like how CFLs start out quite dim before warming up over a minute. Being able to turn on the bathroom lights when I stagger in there at 4:00 am without initially blinding myself? That’s a feature, not a bug!

But even so, I wouldn’t say I love the CFLs; they get the job done and I’m perfectly happy with them. But I’ve known all along that CFLs are just going to be around as long as it takes for the LED bulbs to get better and cheaper. That day is coming, and I’m looking forward to light bulbs that will last twenty years.

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A Random Wednesday Conversation Starter

After a conversation on Facebook this morning about how cool US Route 20 is (US 20 runs from Boston, MA to Newport, OR…and right past Casa Jaquandor…and through the part of Iowa where my college is), here’s the question: what’s your favorite road and what’s so great about it?

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Snoring into Bethlehem

Some lady just got acquitted of murder, apparently. Maybe one day I’ll understand why this murder trial commands so much attention over all the other ones that barely enter the public consciousness even in the municipalities where they take place, much less the national consciousness. Maybe, but I doubt it. And I still don’t care.

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When in the course of human events….

This is a repost from July 4, one year ago today. Happy birthday, America!

Here’s a really weird story. It’s so weird, I’m not sure the historians didn’t make it up out of whole cloth. It seems that around 235 years ago or so, some folks living in a place under the rule of a King decided that they didn’t much like the way that King was ruling them. At all. They pretty much decided, en masse, that their King was behaving, to use a current term, like a douche.

Now, over the many centuries before these folks came along, lots of other folks in other lands have decided that their Kings and Queens were being douchey, so they came up with ways to replace them. They’d organize revolts, usually behind the banner of some obscure relative of the monarch’s so they could say that their person has a better claim to the throne, and off they’d go. So you’d expect that the folks we’re talking about here would have just said, “You know what? Our King is a douche. Let’s replace him with a new King.”

But these folks didn’t say that. What they said was, “Not only does our King suck, but he sucks so much that we’re now thinking maybe we won’t even have any more Kings. We’ll do it all ourselves.”

Over a year or so, there were some battles and skirmishes between these folks and the troops sent by the King to put down the pesky rebels, but it didn’t work, and that notion — “No more Kings and Queens!” — took hold. It became a really popular idea, so finally, these folks appointed some representatives to gather in one of their cities and talk these issues over. The conversation went like this:

GUY #1: So, we’re all agreed then? Kings suck?

GUY #2: Yes, Verily, they suck.

GUY #1: OK, so what do we do?

GUY #3: Well, we’re already fighting, so we just keep fighting. But we should probably tell the King that we’re being serious and we’re not just a bunch of rabble-rousers here.

GUY #1: Right! How do we do that?

GUY #4: How ’bout a letter? I’ve got some nice parchment, quills, and a new bottle of ink.

GUY #2: Good idea! But you’re about as eloquent as my cow. You’ll just write “Hey King, sod off” and be done with it. We should be a bit more poetic about it.

GUY #4: How about Tom? He’s pretty poetic.

GUY #1: Good idea! Let Tom do it. Now where’s that Adams guy with the beer?

So a guy named Tom wrote the King a sternly-worded letter. It was pretty wordy, given the standards of the time, so here’s a paraphrase:

Dear King,

We the undersigned, being representatives of the people of your colonies, have collectively decided that you are a douche and we don’t want to live under your rule anymore. Furthermore, we’re going to come up with a government of our own that won’t even have a King. Now, we’ve just called you a douche, so you’re probably thinking that we should be kind enough to at least tell you all the reasons we have for thinking you’re a douche, so there’s a list of those reasons later on. For now, suffice it to say that we believe in Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of Happiness. And you don’t. And since we like the whole Life and Liberty thing a lot more than we like you, we’re gonna take those and let you do whatever it is you do with your time in that Palace of yours.

So, here’s the list of ways you’ve pissed us off. Note how long it is. You don’t have to be a douche, you know.

…

See? Really, dude. There’s no reason for some of that stuff, right? So anyway, have a good life and all. You’ve still got your island, and Canada seems pretty happy with you for some reason (but really, they’re weird folks to begin with, what with that odd game they like to play on ice). But we’re out of here.

Signed,
All the guys present

PS: Could you make sure your soldiers always wear those bright red coats? It makes it really easy to see ’em in the forests. KTHXBAI.

And so it came to pass that after some years of war, and some further years of cruddy government, they all got together again and figured out how they wanted to set up their new, “No Kings!” government. Their notion was to spread power out amongst a bunch of folks who were accountable to the people, and to further make sure that their government was required to respect certain rights that couldn’t be taken away. It was a really weird idea…and yet, these folks worked hard to make it work, and their children kept working hard to make it work, and their children kept at it, and so on and so on and son on, until today.

Does it still work? Sometimes yes, sometimes not so much. But we’re still here, and we’re still working at it.

So Happy Birthday, United States of America! You’re a wonderful, weird, beautiful, maddening, and awesome country.

(Hey! Uncle George is in there!)

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Leaps and bounds

Phil Plait of Bad Astronomy has a fascinating article in the New York Post about the impending end of the space shuttle program.

It’s fashionable to say the Shuttle program was a failure — too expensive, too limited. But progress is not a steady curve. Not all steps are leaps.

At the time the Shuttles were proposed, small, lean private companies able to build rockets like SpaceX didn’t exist — but these companies owe their existence to the environment NASA helped create.

Things are different now, however, and the era of something like the Shuttle should be behind us. The Shuttle missions were billed as routine, but NASA shouldn’t be doing the routine. The role of our space agency is to innovate, invent, design, push the limits, cross the borders. And once that’s done, once it becomes routine, they should hand it over to others.

Let private companies take over low Earth operations, and let NASA be free to pursue literally loftier goals. What the President and what Congress want isn’t all that different, and we shouldn’t let inaction leave us with no vision. NASA’s future does depend on the decisions made in the next year or two. If nothing is done, then nothing will get done.

Read the whole thing.

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Sunday Burst of Weird and AWESOME!

Oddities and Awesome abound!

I actually don’t have a lot this week, as I’ve been busier with other pursuits than nosing about my usual haunts on Teh Interweb. But I’ve got to share this:

I am so boiling some eggs to give this a try!

UPDATE: I got this from MeFi, where I saw the best comment to anything I’ve seen all day:

Am I the only person who likes peeling eggs? I mean, first you get to smash it all around and then you pick and peel; humans love to pick at things! It’s like picking a scab but you end up with a snack instead of a bloody knee.

Getting humor out of scab-picking is a big damn gift, I tell you what.

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Oh yeah? How ’bout a giant SPOON, then?

Yesterday, I posted to Twitter thusly:

Win hockey, you get a giant cup. Win Wimbledon, you get a giant plate. What’s needed is a sport where the winner is awarded a giant fork.

Well…wouldn’t you know it. Behold the prize for winning the Tirreno-Adriatico bicycle race:

I hate it when reality upstages a joke of mine!

(But not all bad for me: Kevin Drum, one of my favorite liberal bloggers, even though I am currently not reading political blogs because I just need a nice long break, re-tweeted me on this. That’s cool, especially since he’s never linked my blog!)

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Saturday Centus

A normal, but patriotic, prompt this week. Easy enough. Here we go!

Nico Fabrizzio took in the cheers of the crowd, but he could only think of sleep. After thirty cities in thirty-two days, he’d wasn’t even sure where he was anymore. He loved the sold-out audiences, but now the “Golden Tenor” was just one short song away from a vacation. And this wasn’t even a full concert; just the National Anthem before a hockey game. The announcer announced him, silence fell, and he sang, unaccompanied.

“Oh say can you see….”

His voice filled the stadium. It was remarkable.

Too bad he was in Montreal for a Canadiens-Maple Leafs game.

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

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