Head, meet desk.

Here’s a state legislator in Arizona opining on something or other:

Note that when she says twice that Earth is 6000 years old, nobody says anything. Nobody gives an audible “Wait, what?!” Nobody says, “Oh my God, are you an idiot.” Everybody just sits there. Unbelievable.

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The Sucking of Blood!

Christopher Moore is a favorite author of mine, but he’s also an author I haven’t much read in the last couple of years, for one reason or another. I adored Fluke, but I was less impressed with The Stupidest Angel (although that book, too, was amusing). I realized suddenly that I hadn’t read Moore in a long time, so I decided to read one of his more recent books that I haven’t got to, You Suck: A Love Story, which is a sequel to his near-classic Bloodsucking Fiends: A Love Story. But I hadn’t read Bloodsucking Fiends in many years, either, so I wouldn’t have been entirely up to speed on the state of affairs at the outset of the sequel, so I decided to read them back to back. The verdict? Fiends is still a terrific book, and while You Suck has a lot of its virtues, it ultimately struck me as a bit of an unnecessary book.

In Fiends, young Tommy Flood, all of nineteen years old, arrives in San Francisco from his small town home in Indiana, having decided that San Fran is where you go when you’re an aspiring writer. (He’s already picked out his “official” writing name, C. Thomas Flood.) He gets a job as the night manager at a local grocery store (hmmm, I like this guy already), the guy who has to supervise the crew of ne’er-do-wells who basically restock the store overnight. Their signature pastime on these long overnight shifts is turkey bowling, which is exactly what it sounds like: they set up pins, such as 2-liter pop bottles, and then launch frozen turkeys across the floor at them. (I would be lying if I didn’t admit, as a grocery store employee, to wanting to do this. We’ve also speculated on setting up a trebuchet outside the back of the store and using it to launch turkeys up and over the building to rain down on people in the parking lot. We’re a weird bunch.)

Anyway, Tommy meets a girl pretty soon, a very pretty girl named Jody who has just had the misfortune of being made into a vampire by a much older, and more cynical, vampire who plans to kill her anyway after just a few days. Soon Tommy takes on another job, as Jody’s personal assistant; he does for her all of the things that require day-time activity, which she obviously can’t indulge because she’s a vampire.

Meanwhile, a couple of cops are tailing Jody because they think she may have been involved in a murder; also along for the ride is a homeless bum who calls himself the Emperor of San Francisco. All of this stirs together into a terrifically entertaining story that ends on a slightly bittersweet note, and then I figured these characters were done. So when Moore returned to them in You Suck, I was curious. It’s always a danger to provide a sequel to a work that doesn’t really need one, and I think Moore fell victim to that danger here.

You Suck begins with Tommy saying those very words to Jody, because she’s just decided, without asking first, that their lives together would be a lot better if they were both vampires, so she does Tommy the service of turning him into a vampire. He doesn’t take terribly kindly to this at first, although he gradually warms to the idea, even as his former mates at the grocery store are now planning to kill him (they think he’s a vampire, see), and even as the vampire villain from Fiends is released from…where he was imprisoned in the first book. (I don’t want to give it away.) Hilarity and hijinks ensue.

Reading You Suck felt odd to me. I read it back-to-back with Fiends, and while with some sequels you’re happy to re-encounter your old friends, so to speak, Fiends ended for me on such a satisfying note that I just didn’t see the need for this story, and as I read it, I was never able to really shake that impression. The book literally feels as though Moore knew he needed to write a book and decided to revisit some earlier characters, so I found You Suck to be, largely, a disappointment.

Of course, a lesser Christopher Moore book is still a Christopher Moore book, so it’s still worth the trip. Think of it as a lesser episode or two of a favorite comedy show on teevee, maybe one of those episodes of The Office that focuses on Phyllis or Oscar. It’s still full of some wicked laughs and sharp writing:

It turned out that superhuman vampire strength came in handy when shaving a thirty-five pound cat. After a couple of false starts, which had them chasing Chet the huge shaving-cream-covered cat around the loft, they discovered the value of duct tape as a grooming tool. Because of the tape, they weren’t able to shave his feet. When they were finished, Chet looked like a bug-eyed, potbellied, protohuman in fur-lined, duct-tape space boots – the feline love child of Golem and Doddy the house elf. [sic]

So, I strongly recommend Bloodsucking Fiends, but only regularly recommend You Suck. (Even though it is fun sitting in a public place holding up a book whose front cover reads, in big letters, You Suck.)

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Winyum

WNYMedia.net has been around for a while, under several different incarnations. At first the site seemed to be a hub for Western New York area bloggers, but as it grew it became apparent that the powers-that-be over there envisioned something bigger than a mere blogging hub; they wanted to become an all-purpose online media entity, with varying styles of content over and above mere blogging. They’ve relaunched several times (the less said about the brown background, the better), and they’ve just relaunched again, with a much improved look and organization on the main page. They’ve also allied themselves with two other area media entities, alt-weekly paper Artvoice and a local radio station. This is the first incarnation of WNYM that really starts to look like what they’ve been working toward for a long time. Congrats to Mark Odien and company!

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Sentential Links #176

Linking the linkable….

:: Let me say that I’ve really enjoyed this rare Friday-off three day weekend. I think it’s been a lot more fun than your traditional Monday-off three dayer. I think it’s the difference between a weekend that psychologically feels like it has two Saturdays and a weekend that psychologically feels like it has two Sundays. (That’s pretty much the whole post, but I agree, which is why whenever I take long weekends from work I generally try to do Friday off rather than Monday. It just feels more like time off that way — a day off and then my regular weekend is still there, which somehow feels more satisfying. I try to take four day weekends once in a while, although I can’t do that nearly as often as I would like.)

:: If we use grinning, doomed Jeffy as a reference point, the monsters in the lowermost chambers have to be at least the size of a terrier. I’m sure all four of the children will make tasty treats for the Queen of this awful colony. (This is a first! I had the exact same thought when I read Family Circus in the paper yesterday: “Wow, the family’s going to be eaten by Ants of Unusual Size! Awesome!”)

:: It’s nice to know that the average sized, over forty, mother of five, grandmother of one rack can stack up to the 20 and 30-something mom bloggers out there. Thank you! (Yes, I voted. What can I say?)

:: That’s why the song’s so spare, why so much of nothing is going on in the opening strains: The music’s become subservient to the video. (Interesting take on the Michael Jackson phenomenon.)

:: The question is whether changing enough to survive is really surviving. If you’re not who you were, aren’t you gone?

:: I am not unaware of the very real and legitimate problems that must be dealt with. But I am seeing them as just a piece of the puzzle, the shadow side of all that is light in my life. Without the dark side, I would never fully savor the sweetness of all I have that is good. So in a way, I can even be grateful for the bumps…while I do not eagerly invite them I recognize those are often my most powerful teachers in one fashion or another.

All for this week….

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A metablog note….

I don’t have a new Unidentified Earth entry for this week, and I’ve been considering bagging the series as I’m finding it harder to come up with puzzlers that work as puzzlers that aren’t diabolically difficult. In any event, no entry this week. I just didn’t get to it.

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Sunday Burst of Weirdness

Oddities abound!

:: Not actually “weird”, but since I often treat this post as a dumping-ground for all-purpose linkage, I was surfing through the LiveJournal of author Scott Lynch (of The Lies of Locke Lamora), and found this nearly-three-year-old post in which he rants about media fawning over Brett Favre:

ESPN’s Monday Night Football team was egregious about this during the Pack/Eagles game, too. Picture this, now: Donovan McNabb throws 178 passes for 9,762 yards and thirty-six touchdowns. He finds Osama bin Ladin during halftime and snaps his neck with his bare hands. One of his errant passes lands in the stands and touches a small boy with leukemia, curing his cancer instantly. The score is 593-6.

Green Bay is starting from somewhere in their own locker room with six seconds left in the fourth quarter. They have sixty-five yards to go for a first down on their own 2. And still, the announcers say things like “Don’t count this team out yet, because the guy holding the ball is Brett Favre!”

Heh.

:: Speaking of football, I was feeling a bit more charitable toward Michael Jackson, following his untimely passing last week — but not anymore. Grrrrr! (via)

:: Bad Paintings of Barack Obama. Keep refreshing — some of these are hilarious!

:: Gordon Ramsay swears at you!

More next week!

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McNair

While the act of consummate sporting evil that was Homerun Throwback had me loathing the Tennessee Titans for a while, I never disliked their quarterback, Steve McNair, at all. He was just too classy of a player, with toughness that you don’t see all that often anymore. I remember when he was being drafted, hoping somehow that the Bills might swing some kind of big trade to move up in the draft to get him (at the time it was clear that Jim Kelly was down to his last year or two), and frankly, the last twelve years of Bills history would certainly look different had they done something like that. (I don’t recall any actual trade talk that year; it was just wishful thinking on my part.)

McNair was found shot to death yesterday. They don’t know what happened yet. He had retired from the NFL a year ago, but even so — this was a fine player, one of the best of the last fifteen years. Damn.

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

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