7/31/2004

cool. furniture. with. periods.

This website has got to be my Saturday website offering. I found Funfurde (an amalgamation of the words, Funky Furniture Design) at the Blogger control panel. The blog features daily doses of odd, unusual, and pretty nifty items of furniture, along with descriptions of how to find and/or buy the pieces (If at all affordable.) I've loved going back to it to see what the author has added. I even went so far as to try to help find the Pablo Vase on the internet (See FunFurde's July 14th entry). See the entire blogsite here: Funfurde

Veep Racial Profiling

This is one article that just goes to prove that with greater arrogance comes greater stupidity:
"President Bush's re-election campaign insisted on knowing the race of an Arizona Daily Star journalist assigned to photograph Vice President Dick Cheney. The Star refused to provide the information."
See the rest of the post here: Bush camp solicits race of Star staffer | The Arizona Daily Star I'm impressed by the Arizona's Star publication of the article, although I'm not terribly familiar with the newspaper. I've often thought that Arizona was somewhat of a Republican stronghold, but then again, the Republicans there tend toward a more progressive bent than these morons in power.

7/30/2004

Eye for an eye, sometimes

Tonight, I watched the documentary, Deadline, which aired at 8:00pm on NBC television tonight. The program is primarily about the January 2003 decision by Illinois Republican and then Governor George Ryan’s decision to grant blanket clemency to all 167 people on death row in Illinois, commuting their sentences to life without parole. I found the following scenes most of all telling. Bill Clinton speaks in 1992 on the moral dilemma he went through as governor upon deciding the fates of three death row inmates. He prayed about the decision and he prayed for the inmate’s soul. This gives new meaning to Skull & BonesGeorge W. Bush speaks in 2000, stating that he firmly believed that not one of the 152 inmates executed in Texas was in any way not guilty and had entire due process of the law. George W. Bush had no moral dilemma whatsoever. He held life or death decisions in his hands and with the arrogance of a Roman Emperor, turned his thumb down with no hesitation or apprehension. (How did this man get into the White House?) The undeniable truth is that capital punishment is entirely unfair. People with money and influence can defend against it. Like the documentary pointed out, we treat criminals as if they are their crime, destroy the criminal and the crime is vindicated. So many people who have loved the murdered victims of executed criminals will tell you, the execution does nothing to offer them closure. I heard, in my younger days, the argument that, “What if it were your mother, your partner, your child?” My only answer is that, “Then I would be angry. Certainly I would hate the killer and want retribution.” But retribution would be best served with forcing the killer to serve life in prison, without the possibility of parole, forced to live with the guilt of their crime. It certainly is less expensive than execution. I’ll deal with my closure with grief counseling, psychiatric sessions, and visits to my loved one’s graveside. The program is being rebroadcast on Saturday night from 8 to 10pm on MSNBC. View the website: Deadline: The Movie Incedentally, Florida has exonerated more death row inmates (25) since 1972 than any other state. That's over 20% of the total exonerations in the US, 112! Even if you're pro-death, you should take a few minutes and visit the website for Floridians for an Alternatative to the Death Penalty: FADP

Writing Contest!

Hi all. This is a PSA... Also see Lavender Writes

Lavender Writes and The Independent News Present the 3rd Annual Pride, Prose & Poetry Writer's Contest

Want to get published? Want to present your work to an audience of admiring new fans? Want to win prizes? Well, here's the pressure you need to pick up that pen. Dust off one of your old favorites or write something new, then submit it to Pride, Prose & Poetry. This contest is sponsored by Lavender Writes, The Independent News and Borders Books & Music and is open to all South Florida writers. Material need not have gay content to be considered. We're looking for good writing, no matter what you write about. Let your imagination be your only limit. The top three winners will be published in The Independent News and receive a prize package presented by Borders and Lavender Writes. All winners and finalists will be invited to appear in a reading of their winning work at Borders Books & Music in Fort Lauderdale. Submissions can be up to 1,200 words and should be suitable for publication in The Independent. The deadline for submissions is Friday, August 27, 2004. Before submitting, please read the complete rules at Queerwriters. Lavender Writes, Inc. exists to provide service and support to lesbian and gay writers by sponsoring writing workshops, developing public forums for writers to present their work and offering assistance with publication.

7/29/2004

Conventional

I’ve got a midnight deadline to get today’s post in, but I’m stuck watching Comedy Central discussing the Democratic Convention. The interminably inattentive Colin Quinn’s on, with his usual dense team of stand-ups, discussing the convention. They’re yelling at him, at each other. It’s tiresome. Jon Stewart was somewhat impressive, however. He made fun of the numerous pundits who blasted Al Sharpton’s twenty-minute speech. I can’t stand Al Sharpton, but truly, from what I saw, they do protest too much. This time he was pretty much on the money. I’m over this election. I can’t imagine that Bush will get reelected, but I’ve become so jaded that I can’t see how Kerry’s election will make much more than a cursory difference in the corporate takeover of America. Maybe the top 5%ers won’t get richer quite as fast, but they will get richer. Still, I’m going to vote, if only to help point out to the Bush voters, that selfish or misguided 30% of the population who will comprise just about 48% of votes cast, we are damn sick and tired of our environment being stomped on, of the 5%ers draining our pockets to fill their coffers for gasoline and fuel, of insane moralists trying to convince the rest of the nation that gay marriage somehow affects them, of close to 1,000 Americans dying in the Bush Family personal vendetta in the Middle East. We’re sick of 2% of the male population being incarcerated, primarily due to drugs. There’s actually someone in my neighborhood that has a Bush 2004 bumper sticker on his or her car. I normally carry a baggie around when I walk Banjo in the morning, but there’ve been times that I just pretend I don’t see it when he decides to go on that particular yard… I can be petty sometimes.

7/28/2004

Movie about my nephew

Yes, I have people related to me. Having no children myself, I comfort in the knowledge that the Bass genetic line is safe within my neices and nephews. Sibling children are wonderful. You can spend all the time you want with them, but after all is said and done, they go home before they get too cumbersome or annoying. I decided to post a link to a movie done by my brother featuring him, my baby niece, Molly, and my nephew Jacob. It requires Quicktime Plug-in and takes a bit of time to load on a regular 56.6 connection. Click here if you can stand the cuteness: Movie about my nephew On the same topic, I phoned up my sister Susan to find out if my nephew, Nicholas had gotten his birthday present, a gift certificate to Borders, on the twelfth of this month. The youngest one, Jack, answered but the big sister, Heather quickly took the phone away because Jack really doesn't know how to take messages. I actually had a nice conversation with Heather, who is now, I believe, twelve years old. I think it's the first time I've spoken adult-to-adult to a member of the next generation of my family. Nick was out at a friends, and Heather didn't think he got it, but I found out later from my sister it was buried with the weekend mail.

7/27/2004

The Third Step

The Third Step:  We made a decision to turn our will and our lives over to the care of G-d, as we understood G-d. Emergence of Mother GodWhen I find myself more and more uncertain and frightened about where my quickly deteriorating financial situation is leading, I seem to fall into an everlasting triangle of worry, paralysis and failure.  The worry is based on my own preconceived notions of myself, derived from the mistakes of my past and combined with the negative parental and sibling suggestions from my youth.  My mind focuses on the unknown, the impossible to predict, the future; and I am unable to function in the present.  Thereby paralysis sets in.  Failure soon follows, for I have made promises and taken on obligations only to have to apologize for my own ineffectuality.  I make fewer promises; avoid any and all opportunity for people to ask me favors; and continue to doubt my talent and ability to work effectively.  I start to worry again. What is the unfortunate constant in this stream of unconsciousness?  It remains entirely in the first person.  I worry, I can’t do anything about it, and I fail.  As I remain close to spiritually based friends, I watch their successes and examine how they deal with problems on a day-to-day basis.  Often when confronted by negative forces, they will claim to “give it up to G-d.” Most of my life, I paid attention only to the physical evidence before me, and possessing the genius mind that I possessed, I determined that there could not possibly be a G-d.  Any declaration of G-d’s existence came from less capable minds, sad unfortunates who were easily duped by fraudulent ministers and ancient, dusty texts.  There was no convincing me that G-d was, in fact, a true and verifiable force in people’s life. During the most difficult time of my addiction, I often remarked at the miracle of my survival; which could only have be the result of desperate “foxhole” prayers.  I suddenly believed: G-d did in fact exist, and I was one of G-d’s abject failures.  G-d listened to my prayers at only the worst of time, the rest of my life I would have to rely on the higher power of other men. But when I learned more about prayer, and began to pray on a daily basis, I found out that A) I wasn’t asking the right things, and B) I was only looking for G-d where I wanted to find G-d.  This superior being, my higher power, was always open to hearing my prayer.  I only needed to learn to align my requests with the will of G-d! As I began to open my eyes without the cloud of my history behind them, I could see the evidence I so dearly sought.  People were in my life at certain times.  Opportunities presented themselves the very moment I needed them.  It wasn’t that G-d was ignoring me; G-d was constantly working in my life and the lives of everyone around me! When I make that decision, to “give it up,” I am surrendering the misguided perception that only I know what is best for me.  I am able to work moment by moment, not putting things off until a tomorrow that never comes, but putting one step in front of the other and doing what I can do for myself today.  My own will is faulty, for all too often I don’t know what I want anyway.  My life is forever in G-d’s able and loving care, and always has been.  It was, even when I did not believe in G-d.  It was, even when I believed G-d had forsaken me.  Turning my life over to G-d’s care is simple, for that is where G-d is all along. G-d, to my understanding, simply is.  I don’t have to intellectualize G-d.  I don’t have to decide that G-d is the Lord over all His people or the Mother in the Earth.  G­‑d is all those things, or the best qualities of all those things, without the rain of fire on the city for acts that offend Him, or the burning lava and ash in revenge for harming Her kingdom.  G-d is in my fingers as I type, and in my mind as I work. I live much happier when I know I am in the care of G-d. Artwork image entitled "Emergence of Mother God" courtesy of William Wagenaar ©2002.

7/26/2004

Work

This is my dreamI'm back to writing for a living, at least part-time; and the good thing is, I can do the work right here at my desk at home. The bad thing is, my ADD mind has to maintain a schedule of getting to my computer at a certain time and dedicating myself, distraction free to sitting here and doing the work. Certainly I have the potential to make a decent amount of money, enough to pay the bills: electricity, mortgage, water, credit cards, credit cards, credit cards. It's really just a matter of sitting down and doing it. So what new glimpses can I offer into my life today, to make this blog remain interesting and to keep you all coming back? Agh, nothing, my friends. Remember, I'm writing for myself, not for you. But if you get fulfilment from the days that I actually provide fascination or wittiness or intrigue, you can certainly put up with the dull moments of my bleary day-to-day existence. After all, this is developing me into a person who knows what he likes to write about, and the stuff with which he's absolutely fulfilled. For instance, that piece I put together last Saturday morning (July 17) for the Lavender Writes reading was entitled "Plugging In." First of all, the other readers who didn't already know me commented on how shocked they were to find out I put that together in one morning. Secondly, I sent it to Michael (see earlier post About Michael). When I spoke to him on Sunday, as I do every Sunday, he said it was my best piece yet. I just have to now ponder to what publication I should submit it. The wonderful thing today is that I can write for a living and still write for fun. And someday, hopefully sooner rather than later, I will be writing for fun and earning a living from it. I grow closer to my dream every day. And maybe that is all I needed to share.

7/25/2004

Fool's Fate, by Robin Hobbs

coverAt last I have finished Tawny Man trilogy with its book of conclusion, Fool's Fate. I found the book a fantastic ending to a wonderful and sadly, too short, trilogy. Without spoiling this for anyone, I found the ending tidy, yet not so much to decry any possible sequel with the same characters. One has to wonder whether FitzChivalry Farseer truly does find happiness, as seems to be a great hope of this particular trilogy, or whether the next adventure awaits right at the next turn. Certainly so much is new, and it is my fervent hope that Robin Hobbs will pick up the story again very soon. But not too soon, because I need to make up the sleep I lost because I couldn't put the book down. As for myself, I need to once and for all, finish A Mirror's Shard and get it published.

7/24/2004

GalaxyGoo

I decided I was going to review this website when I first started this blog, I apologize that I am just now getting to it. Kristin Henry is an online friend of mine from the Hatrack days and one of the founders of GalaxyGoo. Of all the friend-created websites to which I've been over the years, GalaxyGoo is the only one that I've gone back to time after time to check the new site stuff. GalaxyGoo GooAnd it is ever-changing, and ever-fascinating. By their own words, GalaxyGoo is... ...are a community of scientists, educators, students, artists, programmers, and professionals committed to providing high quality scientific content and services to our neighbors, students and peers If you can just wrap your brain around it, you can enjoy it here. For children of all ages and anyone open to learning much of the latest ideas, GalaxyGoo has something for you. There's a full array of fun stuff that I can really only refer to in a conglomerate as "fun stuff." Most of it is based on Macromedia Flash, so make sure you've got the player on your PC. I think there's a link to download the latest version if you need it. Also, there's some fastinating articles including resources on HIV and AIDS and a little flash animation about how the cute little HIV Virus goes from cute little blood cells to cute little blood cells. You just have to check it out for yourself! Right here: GalaxyGoo

7/23/2004

Nothing is personal

I came across this website when I was trying to communicate to someone on a board in which I participate where I came up with the idiom "Communication isn't Personal": The Sixth Principle of Intentional Communication: Nothing is Personal This entire thing was brought up in a discussion that I initiated about "flame wars". Before I continue, I offer here a little explanation from Wikipedia. "Flaming is the practice of posting messages that are deliberately hostile and insulting to a discussion board (usually on the Internet). Such messages are called flames, and are often posted in response to flamebait."
and
"A flame war is a series of flaming messages in an electronic discussion group or message board system such as usenet, mailing lists or forums. There are a number of characteristics of electronic communication which have been cited as being conducive to flame wars. Electronic communications do not easily transmit facial expressions or voice intonations which may serve to moderate the tone of a message. Also, there is typically a lag time between the time a message is transmitted and the time a reply is read. These two characteristics can cause a "positive feedback loop" in which the emotional intensity of an electronic exchange increases to extremely high levels." There was a time I used to be incited by these things. Comments like "...and there are people on this forum who..." always seemed to be about me, whether or not the comment had anything to do with me. In the beginning, there was AOL, and AOL had no chat rooms, and less than 20,000 members. But AOL had forums, and people of differing political persuasion posted on those forums. The year was 1991, and I was 25, and extremely immature. I got involved in the worst arguments, and never ceased coming back over and over and over again. I most closely resembled "Tireless Rebutter" of the Flame Warriors. It wasn't until recent years that I fully understood the importance of "Communications Isn't Personal." I don't take everything I see as an insult. "Nothing is personal" is not about how to better communicate, it's about how to better deal with communication. This way, even if I'm certain somebody is insulting me online, I can remember that it is that person's problem; because no matter how much I might express about who I am, they couldn't possibly know me. Indignance does me no good and does everyone else harm. I hope this post doesn't upset anyone.

7/22/2004

From a Fountain §3

Read from the beginning... 7:49 AM, Tuesday, May 26, 2096 Traffic was already being diverted south off of upper A1A at the Broward Causeway by the time Fuzzy drove Davis to the beach. Fuzzy showed his eye to the portable scanner and a hastily erected barrier rose to allow them to come through. Davis could see before too long by the flashing lights that the accident was indeed serious. A head-on collision was the kind of accident that only took place on large throughways, and even those were rare. Vehicular sensors had come so far that malfunctions were almost unheard of, yet here, on the scarcely traveled upper A1A, were sheriff transports, rescue workers, the scattered remains of at least one vehicle. The two detectives exited the Yuri and walked over to examine the first one, an Ergo in what was once a bright cherry shade of red. Now it was charred black, flipped 180° around, with smoke still pouring out of its tail. Davis gritted his teeth at the condition. Salvage workers were still picking through the vehicle. Davis turned to Fuzzy and said, “Not much to see here until they’re done, you think the other one’s that way?” Davis gestured toward an open strip of railing, where the second vehicle must have run off the highway. The two of them walked over, approaching the gap, and looking precariously over. Fuzzy said, “You ever seen anything like this?” Davis nodded his head in affirmation. “The Georgia Memorial Skyway at 8 PM on Friday is not to be missed.” “It looks like it’s low tide. We should go down before the it comes back in. After you?” They walked to the access ladder. The road below was the road along the coast before the oceans rose, making transportation on the highway impossible. Low tide did not necessarily make it easy, there were still four inches of seawater along the highway, and waves lapped the two specialists’ boots as they walked toward the wreckage of the white Ford Revere. Although the vehicle was crushed in its own weight, the water, mingled with the rain from the previous night, prevented it from being destroyed by a similar conflagration as the red car above. The drivers door had already been opened by rescue workers, in the futile hope that the cabin’s occupant had survived. Judging by the amount of blood that appeared to have poured from the side, it was obvious that she hadn’t. “Looks like the water prevented any fire from starting, but there’s strontium gel all over the water’s surface.” Fuzzy spoke into a hidden receiver on his collar, “For Sharecom: How come nobody called Environmental? There’s fuel all over the place.” To Davis, “That eye of yours is really something.” “Make a note,” Davis continued, ignoring Fuzzy’s comment, “this vehicle should have exploded on impact with all that gel, it’s a miracle it’s intact.” He pulled the door open wider to view the inside and sucked in a breath when he realized the deceased occupant was still present. “Oh sweet Mother of God!” Fuzzy said as soon as he saw her. “What's wrong with these fucks? For Sharecom: tell Environmental to wait until Morbid Services gets here, and get them over here pronto!" Fuzzy put his lapel back down and said to Davis, "Environmental will decide she's hazardous waste and vacuum her into their tank.” Continued...

7/21/2004

Cranky

I’m feeling rather punchy tonight. It’s the kind of mood that makes one want to write in short brief one and two word sentences, like: Cranky. Working again. Need sleep. More tomorrow. Of course, I committed myself to writing every day for this blog in some manner or fashion—involving full sentences in essay or story format. That is what I must do. The truth be told, once again, I could not put a book down until way, way past 2AM. Fool’s Fate, the third book in that Robin Hobbs trilogy. That book I said I was not going to pick up until I finished another book. A friend hand delivered me the book on Friday, and on that day I said, “I’ll read a few chapters then go back to the other book.” Now I’m almost done with it. Of course, I scheduled my alarm to get me up at 7:00 AM so I could start my new/old job and be ready and able, bright-eyed and bushytailed, first thing in the morning. I’m writing copy for my old company of little 30 second messages for people to listen too while receptionists at various companies have them on hold. If you want to understand all that better, check out my employer’s website: The Original On Hold Company. It pays something just above slave labor. But I can do it, I’m good at it, and I can pound them out. I just have to figure out how in my ADD way I can devote the proper time to it here at home, undistracted by my normal daily distractions. I’ll probably better be able to do that with a full night’s rest. But today, I’m cranky and cynical. Short. Snippy. Need sleep. More tomorrow.

7/20/2004

A Mirror's Shard

A Mirror's Shard is my original fantasy novel that I started working on at the end of 2000. The story takes place in 9th Century Lugdon, an alternate history version of Lyons France. The point of departure for the history is 900 years earlier, where the Romans decide to return to Republican rule and withdraw from Gaul instead. Certain Continental Celts get organized and take on imperial rule with Lugdunum as the capital. The protagonists are a pair of teenagers who have grown up close to each other, developing a friendship along the way. Kern, a boy of Celtic origin, is three generations descended from slaves and is the son of a baker. Gertrue is the daughter of ethnic Greeks, her father a metal smith and mother a devout Titanian, a religious order with a matriarchal lean. Kern stumbles across a dying man, from whom a strange curse, a.k.a. "The Mirror's Shard," emerges and plants itself into Kern. The forger of the Shard is a magical and mysterious beautiful demon named Odessa Helipatilliga, who wants it back. Now, I finished the first draft, in which Kern and Gertrue were only twelve-or-so years old. It truly drew from the story, and I wanted to add a love angle that made older children work much better. But I haven't worked on the story in quite some time. I have piles and piles of paper with notes sitting on the edge of my rear desk, but I seem to have a "block" in returning to it. At least I'm writing something. That's what Karen told me; and I keep it with me. I'm writing something...something of my own, and I will get back to this. Just writing about it here has helped me. Update 9/17/04: Read the Prologue here: Prologue!

7/19/2004

From a Fountain §2

Continued from previous... 7:12 AM, Tuesday, May 26, 2096 Davis hopped on a Transit that quickly conveyed him to his new offices, several miles west of his apartment, in Sunrise. The Broward Forensic Labs were housed in the Sheriff Mirabella K. Ruiz-Hoffman Building. Built in the last decade, the structure took into account the coming climate change by building its first floor some ten meters off the ground, held up by nine huge columns. Vehicles were parked in orderly fashion, beneath and around, showing no fear at the millions of tons of material above. The greater portion of the edifice was like a solid block, sixty meters tall and forty wide. Dark oversized rococo lattice worked from a volcanic alloy camouflaged the windows, so that it was difficult to determine how many floors the building contained. The roads were still in the process of being raised in the vicinity, so the Transit had to drop Davis off at ground level. A temporary, open lift was in place to bring the building’s occupants to the main entrance, at the first floor. No sooner had Davis called the lift than it arrived bearing a short, dark-featured, heavyset man with a beard. The man glanced at Davis briefly then his eyes lit up. “Davis Okah-novik?” “O-KAN-ovic,” Davis corrected without ceremony, “Yeah, that’s me.” “Ferdinand Agoberto,” the little man said. “Call me Fuzzy. I’m gonna be your assistant.” Davis shook the man’s hand, “Good to meet you, were you coming down to show me up?” “No, actually, and I’m glad I caught you. I left a message for you with Pansy. We’ve got a call already. We can go in the Yuri.” He gestured for Davis to follow and walked beneath the building. “You own a Yuri?” Davis said with a hint of apprehension. Yuris were cheap imported Malaysian imports with a reputation for regular malfunction. If Agoberto couldn’t afford better than that, Davis had to wonder about how honest they were being with his own standard. “Department vehicle,” Fuzzy said. “The wife has our Multima today—I took the Transit.” Davis breathed an inaudible sigh. “So what’s the call?” “Head-on collision, real early this morning. At the beach. On Upper-A1A, believe it or not.” “That’s the beach highway. Head-on collision? There’s not enough traffic to merit that sort of malfunction.” Fuzzy nodded his head, and they reached the Yuri. “Right. That makes it immediately suspicious. So we got a call. That’s all the details I have right now. Hopefully someone is reporting things on Sharecom. Our EMT’s are terrible at that, so most likely we’ll find out everything at the scene.” Continued...

7/18/2004

Stuart G. Talbert, where are you?

Stuart G. Talbert's birthday is June 14, and last I heard, he lived in Columbia, South Carolina. He was 22 when I met him. He was a good friend and we kept in touch for a long time. I haven't heard from him for a few years—I really don't know what's up with him, but would certainly like to hear from him again. I moved, I guess, and Michael made our phone number non-published. That's about the same time I stopped hearing from him. Maybe we just lost touch, I've never been good at keeping people's information. Stuart had a tendency of moving often. So this is an attempt to get back in touch with an old friend, as well as a kind of test. This site has been getting up there pretty well in search engines, updating regularly, and maybe if someone that knows Stuart does a search on him they'll come to this page. It happens a lot. Maybe they'll let him know about having read this, and tell him to get in touch with me. My home line is 954.969.1313. My email address is accessable by clicking the link entitled "EMAIL ME" over on the right side. I hope he'll forgive me my candor—I still don't get a lot of traffic to this site. For the rest of you, I'll keep you informed if this works.

7/17/2004

Day off!

I took today off from the blog, because I had to write something quickly for tonight's Not Your Average Bedtime Story at the Stonewall Library sponsored by Lavender Writes. The event was a huge success! Even my story got a few good comments.

7/16/2004

I need your help!

I have decided to post a limited amount of fiction on the blog, as part of the jump-starting process of actually writing on a regular basis. Of course, commentary is very much appreciated. Critique—constructive of course—is welcome. But first and foremost, response! I need to know that writing is worth my time and effort, else why do it? Plus, it gives me the incentive to continue to write. Limited, for should I wish to publish this story in its entirety, no publisher would wish to purchase something previously read (no matter by how small a readership I may have). I beg of thee, kind reader, to send me your opinions, whether positive of negative of the sci-fi mystery thriller, From a Fountain. I have already formulated much of this, but have a need to put it to the pen. Your assistance is greatly appreciated.

7/15/2004

From a Fountain §1

5:36 AM, Tuesday, May 26, 2096   Davis Okanovic opened his eyes, and panicked at the silence, thinking that his Wake-Up program was malfunctioning.  His cybernetic eye, called an “eee,” however, was completely shut down, and with a quick turn of his head his human eye he saw the muted violet glow of a sensa clock next to his bed that told him he had another twenty-four minutes of sleep.   It was not likely, however, that on this morning of all mornings, he would be able to return to that state.  He lay back on the soft down pillow, nonetheless, and shut his eyelid; he couldn’t possibly be nervous about the new position.  Davis had proven his competence long ago, in Washington, before the bomb, and then, afterwards in Atlanta.  This Broward Forensics Cooperative had wanted him enough to increase his standard of living several points higher than a normalized income.   He realized he had drowsed off again when a female voice suddenly declared, “It’s six o’clock.   “This morning’s news: delegates from Armenia, Georgia, and Greece stood in protest of the Eurasian Economic Congress’s recent decision to admit Indonesia as a member, in remembrance of the 2084 Olympic massacre in Jakarta by Islamic militants.  Sources say that...”   He silenced the Wake-Up by remote the moment his eee booted to life; while the complete functionality of each of the eye’s systems sped across the bottom of his field of vision in a matter of microseconds.  The room then awakened, lit ambivalently by a xenonite strip around the upper perimeter of the room.    Davis stared into his bedside mirror.  His jet-black hair required no effort to ready, neatly cut close to under a centimeter in length.   The flesh around his eee was clean and unblemished, which indicated that no loose detritus had gotten between the unit and the muscles of his eye socket.   He covered the eee with his left hand, and reassessed his looks.  Without the always-open, silver lensed unit, if he still had the left eye from his boyhood, Davis would be a handsome man, with two striking blue eyes, prominent nose and chiseled chin.  He was a well-built man, and six-foot-three.  There was no reason his bed should still be empty when he got up.  And yet most people he met couldn’t help looking at his eee when he spoke to him, as if that’s all he was.  The same thing that made him so very valuable as a detective also made him unattractive as a potential mate. Continued...

7/14/2004

Golden Fool by Robin Hobbs

Once again, I have had the wonderful opportunity to be engrossed and delighted by a Robin Hobbs novel. This one is the second in the “Tawny Man” trilogy, Golden Fool, and, like the first one, I found it nearly impossible to put down. Hobbs has truly managed to captivate me like very few authors have done in a very long time. coverI find very few faults with the novel, truly, any criticism I do have seems incedental, considering how much I enjoyed reading it. However, if this is to be a true critique, I must point out some things. Hobbs has a few annoying writing tendencies that I found in the first novel and chose to overlook, hoping that they would work themselves out. I've always been taught that in English literature it is improper to have two individual speakers within one paragraph—Hobbs gives this rule no consideration and her dialogue is apt to confuse speedier readers like myself. I despise having to return to a paragraph I've supposedly already read only to see that I've missed that Fitz was speaking in the beginning but it was Chade's remarks that concluded the paragraph. Also, this novel makes a very good middle of a much longer story, but I was not entirely satisfied by the individual journey between page 1 and 709. I understand that another novel is to come, but I want some mote of resolution now and a higher level of drama over the course. The climactic moment of Golden Fool arrived much to early, was much too weak, and dragged far too long. I loved the novel enough to be prepared to read the trilogy's conclusion, Fool's Fate. I did not go ga-ga enough to pick it up as soon as I turned the last page, especially since I have a friend from whom I may borrow it soon. Having said all this, one might ask, "So you think you could do a better job?" My reply might be, "Those who can write novels, do, those who cannot, critique!" Let it be said, however, that I am trying to jump start my own writing. I'll be there soon. I've even considered serializing some original fiction, right here, on the blog. What would everybody think of that? Golden Fool can be seen (and purchased!) here: Golden Fool (Tawny Man, Book 2)

7/13/2004

DirecTV - Isn't there a "t" missing?

Modern technology—it means that I can sit here type-type-typing away while waiting on hold for DirecTV Customer Service to get on the phone to get my access card working. I have a receiver that acts as a speakerphone…I didn’t know they could do that! The music in the background is upbeat and jazzy; the periodic messages mock me with their repetitive “Maybe-you-can-do-it-online-at-DirecTV.com.” Believe me, if I could avoid talking to phone techs who never seem to know enough, I would have. Yes, I switched everything out, no we don’t have to go through all of this again, just send someone out! No intelligent life out there!Somehow, my satellite dish, satellite receiver, and television from the bedroom all aren’t working at the same time. I am now considering that we might have been struck by lightning at some point in the past year. I am thankful we’ve paid extra to DirecTV for a plan to cover all of this. It’s nice to know that an investment is coming back in our favor. I still can’t watch Six Feet Under from my bedroom. Crap. Just found out I’ve missed four episodes of Season Three of The Dead Zone. This is what happens from sticking to Comedy Central and HBO. USA doesn’t advertise there.

Lavender Writes Update!

The follow is copied right from Queerwriters.com: Location Change for Saturday's Not Your Average Bedtime Story by Lavender Writes We want you to sweat, but only in a good way. With the A/C on the fritz at the Pride Factory, the Stonewall Library and Archives has gracefully stepped forward to host Saturday night's Not Your Average Bedtime Story. The event will start an hour earlier, at 7 p.m., on Saturday, July 17. Stonewall is located at 1717 N. Andrews Ave., Fort Lauderdale. For more information contact...the Stonewall Library at (954) 763-8565. See the original story here: 07/07/2004: Lavender Writes

7/12/2004

White House Wants to Lift Logging

The latest from Yahoo News (see Yahoo! News - White House Proposes Lifting Logging Rule): "BOISE, Idaho - The Bush administration Monday proposed lifting a national rule that closed remote areas of national forests to logging, instead saying states should decide whether to keep a ban on road-building in those areas. " Men pushing big logsLet's find better and faster ways to destroy the environment, sending us spinning even faster toward global warming. As we get closer to the election, the White House is just going to bombard us with even more and more idiotic things so we can't focus on the real evil ways they're working to get the elite embedded into the government. Anyone notice how in state governments dominated by Republicans the congressional districts are gerrymandered beyond comprehension to concentrate likely Democrat voters into areas and spread out Republicans so that they dominate voter percentages in a greater amound of areas. How come nobody has gone to court. I'm starting to sound really paranoid. Maybe it just seems to me that the White House is entirely obvious in its deception. I think that the rest of the voters just don't mind. I don't have the source of this quote, but I just hope the last part is true: When the Republicans do finally come to power, they'll make such a blatant effort to keep it that they'll do themselves in. If you're not registered to vote, get registered. Start caring about things, and make the right choioce.

The Propaganda Remix Project

I liked the posters at the Propaganda Remix Project so much, I sent them an email telling them so. In turn, Micah suggested the following poster might be more appropriate for today's news headlines: Thanks Micah! And for the compliment! Linking again: The Propaganda Remix Project

7/11/2004

Bastards to Delay Election Day?

CNN.com - Officials discuss how to delay Election Day - Jul 11, 2004: "WASHINGTON (CNN) -- U.S. officials have discussed the idea of postponing Election Day in the event of a terrorist attack on or about that day, a Homeland Security Department spokesman said Sunday." I can either be very afraid, or I can put my head in the sand and pretend that all of these insanities have will just go away, because it's impossible that in this time and age that the games the White House is playing with the American public could still be going on. The Homeland Security Spokesman is just another Bush plant trying to manipulate the consciousness of the people. And we can all see that, can't we? Polls show 49% of possible voters would vote for Bush versus 45% for Kerry. Am I blind or something? How can nearly half of potential voters be stupid or insane enough to keep these people that are raping our pocketbooks, our environment and our livelihoods in power? How can a government function without taxes? The wealthy deserve high taxes! Large inheritance deserves to be taxed at an incredible rate. How did the rich get richer? By walking all over the rest of us, including the middle class! This "war" in Iraq has been nothing but a ploy to make rich men richer (Halliburton), and to put Iraqi oil in the hands of corporations of American interest. And knowing this, 49% of Americans would still vote for Bush. Maybe not insane, maybe just selfish fucks--even the Conservative so-called Christians, who don't even care about the world they're leaving their children because they're hoping that Jesus will return and the Rapture will take place within their lifetimes. Guess what, people? The Gospel of John was just one more propaganda piece, delivered to the Council of Nicaea in the Third Century to ensure that true Catholic and Patriarchal church come into power. Jesus of Nazareth, son of Joseph died 1,975 years ago. If he's come back, it's most likely as the Dalai Lama or some other wise and holy man. Pay attention to the Messiahs of today. Well, maybe there is some hope...check out this link you won't find on CNN, much less Fox or MSNBC: Capitol Hill Blue: Cheney Faces Criminal Indictments; Other Illegal Actions Raise Warning Flags at White House I'll sleep tonight. Poster courtesy of The Propaganda Remix Project

7/10/2004

Hatrack River

I don't think Hatrack River really needs me to send them links, but if you're into fantasy or science fiction, take a look at Orson Scott Card's huge website. I got involved with role-writing in Hatrack River back in 1998, and that is part of what helped me initially find my confidence in my imagination and writing ability that I have today. I strongly disagree with a lot of Uncle Orson's LDS-influenced beliefs, but there's no denying he's an imaginative and intelligent man, as well as being an accomplished writer. Hatrack River - The Official Web Site of Orson Scott Card

Stonewall Library & Archives, Inc.

Following up with last Saturday I'll feature another couple of websites of interest. If you live in South Florida and are not familiar with the Stonewall Library and Archives, you should take the time to get to know them. The Library was first initiated over thirty years ago, and now is in its twentieth year of operation. According to its by-laws, the purpose is to: The purpose of this organization is to serve as a library and archive of materials dealing with gay lesbian, bisexual, and transgender communities, including, but not limited to, literary, artistic, legal, scientific, and historical matters, and to sponsor cultural and educational events of similar interest. Facilities are open to all visitors for onsite use of materials. In my involvement with Lavender Writes, as well as my friendship with volunteers at the Archives, I've come to appreciate the ready availability of a wide variety of books, movies and other gay-themed materials. Sadly, with the impending closure of the Gay and Lesbian Community Center, the library is forced to find a new home. My sources tell me that a permanent location will become available in 2006; however, the library will be forced into temporary, and very likely costly accommodations in the meantime. I've promised a link to their website, and here it is: Stonewall Library & Archives, Inc.

7/9/2004

Sheldon, ND, Population 135

I decided to write this post after getting my T results today. My Helper-Ts are at 135 today. Now don't be alarmed, they've been hovering between 125 and 175 for nearly four years, and I've never been sick. I can't help relating it to one of those Midwestern farm small towns that you hear about on the news—you know, the kind that no matter what they do, population just keeps moving on to the big city, brighter pastures and more opportunity. A town much like Sheldon, North Dakota, who according to the 2000 census, had a population of 135. Sheldon Street SceneNow, from what I've been able to piece together, based on loose evidence, Sheldon might have been founded in 1881. It looks like it was a railroad stop according to an old-time picture of the town. More historical pictures are available at Sheldon N.D. Photograph Collection. They're planning a big 125th Anniversary there in 2006. Find out more details at the Sheldon Public School site. I don't know what occurred in the meantime, but between then and 1932, Sheldon Public School was built. Not sure if this picture represents the original or is a later version.Sheldon Public School People in Sheldon like to re-enact historic battles. They also like to hunt. You can find people there that love horses. Dave & Kim Utke of Sheldak Ranches have raised some pretty great horses they like to show. Gateway Building Systems is proud of the silos they've built there. Did Bea Wall ever get a 2001 Windmill Calendar going? And yes, even a small town must have its scandal and conflict. Read the fascinating recounting of Sheldon's Outlaw Well. Oh, and if you have to pass by Sheldon next weekend, make sure you stop there on July 17th, and join in the Sheldon Street Dance! 135. That number doesn't quite seem so small now, does it?

7/8/2004

Adventures in Anger

I’ve been struggling mercilessly trying to determine my best course of action in securing regular employment. Presently, I’ve given a lot of it to G-d, knowing that G-d’s will for me is what is best for me, and most certainly involves my talent or interests, else why would G-d have made me this way? Therefore, it was with open mind this morning that I prayed and meditated and prayed and meditated and prayed and meditated for G-d to show me the solution, and open my eyes so that I would see it and understand it. Then I made my plans. Hit the noon meeting and then go look for a job. My attire took some time to formalize, and I became the tiniest bit late. So my plans became: hit the 12:15 meeting and then go look for a job. But first I had to get gas for the truck. I plotted a course to the Hess station on Cypress Creek and Powerline Roads. As we all know, Hess is the cheapest, no-hassle gasoline anywhere you go. Because this station only has four pumps, I pulled in, foolishly, behind a large SUV. Comfortably, in my air-conditioned truck, I watch him walk over to the attendant, walk back, pump $10, $20, $30... I watch the people in line at the attendants. There's a group of Mexican-looking fellows, one with a gas container, looking confused. The SUV guy passed $50. I think about what a horrifying drain on the environment his vehicle is. Finally, he's done, and I wait for him to go BACK to the attendant and wait in line. It's about 11:55 by now, and I'm more than ready when he finally returns and drives off. Why doesn't a man with that kind of vehicle have a credit card? I pull up, stick my card in the machine and... none of the keypads work. I start to get mildly angry. Actually, I'm slamming the butt of my hand into the pump. Nothing. I walk over to the attendant with my credit card and say, "You know, you need to have a sign on that tank." He takes my card and I walk back. There is now one of the Mexican-looking fellows using my gas pump. "No, no no no no no!!!" I scream at the man. "I just gave him my card!" The man is insisting he paid $4.00 to get gas. I won't have it. I grab the nozzle out of his hand and plant it in my tank. He walks off. I'm fuming. The pump stops at $2.00. I'm furious as I return to the attendant. He tells me in his Some-Island-In-The-Caribbean voice that the other guy was next. I scream at him that I have been waiting for THAT pump for fifteen minutes, and how DARE he give it away. I give the Mexican my first two dollars. He takes $2.14 worth of gas. I commence to fill my tank. The guy in the pump next to me is explaining how there's no such thing as service any more. He's wondering what the hell happened to service, and that in the old days you wouldn't have to deal with people like this. This guy is about my age. I respond affirmatively, not necessarily because I agree with him but that I'm completely pissed off By the time I pass $20 I'm wondering why the hell I'm still pumping. I replace the nozzle and storm back to the attendant, waiting in line behind two other people. His nametag declares him, "Nick". "Can I see your ID," Nick declares. I'm certain it's only because I'm yelling at him. "Fuck you!" I rant as I pull my wallet out. He hands me my receipt as I demand, "What's the name of your manager?" "I'm the manager, and this is my name!" he points at the name tag. I'm certain that neither is he the manager nor is his name, Nick. "I'm getting in touch with your corporate headquarters!" I scream. My voice is squeaking now, about half an octave above normal. He snorts his derision. I spit the following, "You need to learn something about service." My day is completely fouled up, and I drive the last two miles back home. I speed-dial the Housemate, who is on a job site. I explain to his message center that my day is all messed up. Sherry, the neighbor who holds hostages in conversation, is in her yard as I pull in. I unload myself on her, in a kind of ironic reverse roles. I am saved from hearing about her difficulties by a television being delivered to her home. As I get inside, I pull up the Hess website to get more information, but I'm already reflecting back on what happened. The satisfaction I'm looking for involves "Nick" admitting he was wrong and apologizing. There's a remote chance I could make a big enough stink and get him fired, but judging by his attitude, and the condition of that gas station, he doesn't much like it anyway. I realize that I couldn't possibly get any kind of satisfaction from it. Then it occurs to me that G-d is screaming a message at me. My last job was in a service-oriented profession. I'm not doing so well with my interpersonal skills lately. The message? I have to be certain that whatever it is that I will be doing next, it should involve as little human contact as possible. At this point, I feel like a million dollars. Tomorrow, I get back on track. No gas stations this time.
While I was getting graphic ideas for this post, I came upon this great statue image: Angry Man Statue

7/7/2004

Lavender Writes

There are going to be nights when it's already 11:32 PM and I haven't come up with anything to discuss, or I've decided that I don't have the time to write out a great big post. Before I sat down tonight at the PC, I decided that it was going to be one of those nights... Then I took another look at my incoming mail, and was reminded about an upcoming event at the Pride Factory. Not Your Average Bedtime Story is this month's open mic theme--on July 17 at 8 p.m. For further specifics about this reading, see the web page at Lavender Writes. Lavender Writes is an organization dedicated to supporting gay and lesbian writers by sponsoring workshops, developing forums and offering help in publication. As it happens, I’m on the board of directors of Lavender Writes. Why haven’t I mentioned it before now? I’m subconsciously blocking out everything that has to do with writing, due to my damaged and frail self-esteem. Anyway, we put on these shindigs every once a month or so, which gives nascent writers opportunities for more exposure. And, it will give me another excuse to write something—if I can get my shit together in time. Let me point out another board member, Jim McDonough, who also provides another great resource on the web: queerwriters.com The site is expansive, so schedule some time to browse. Finally, the Center Square of Lavender Writes, Karen Dale Wolman. She is the author of two novels, The Ancestor and Rites of First Blood. Read about these books by clicking on those links. You can buy them too. Karen also has regular writing classes. I don’t have a schedule handy but email me to find out more about them.

7/6/2004

Evening with Spider-Man

It was early evening and we didn’t have a movie to watch. I’d been complaining about still not having seen Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, a movie I absolutely have to see before it gets off the big screen. Will, the Housemate, said, “Well, let’s go see a movie.” At first, I thought he was kidding—it’s so unlike Will to be so spontaneous. But I shortly went online to verify show times and the next showing was at 7:30 PM. It was already a quarter after, and the next showing was at 10:30 PM. “How about Spiderman 2? It’s showing next at 8:00 PM,” I suggested. The next thing you know, Will is rushing to change clothes and go. After paying $8 apiece for tickets, I wanted a extra large Diet Coke and small popcorn. I only had $4 left for concessions totaling $8.75. Will donated another $5, and we were off to see the movie. Spiderman and Mary JaneSpiderman 2 was fantastic! I had to say that it topped the first movie. Tobey Maguire is looking fine. I still think of Kirsten Dunst as the infant vampire, Claudia, in Interview with a Vampire, but she is certainly taking Mary Jane and making her her own. I missed the green suit that Doc Ock wears in the comic book, but Alfred Molina was convincing in the part. Spiderman 3 is almost certainly going to feature the wedding of Peter and Mary Jane. Villian of choice? If the closing scene with Harry Osborne is any indication, it’s going to be the Hobgoblin. That actually was Harry Osborne in the comic book if I remember correctly. If you’ve been thinking about going to see Spider-Man…go and see it. So when do I go see Harry Potter? Hopefully before too long. You’ll hear it here first. You can visit the Spider-Man 3 official website here:Spider-Man

7/5/2004

Review of Fool's Errand and Related Blithering

Every so often I read a book that draws me in so completely that I take time out of my day and stay up late at night just to read it. Such was the case with Fool’s Errand. Robin Hobb is a wonderful writer—There is nothing with which I can find fault about this book. Even the fact that this book follows a prior trilogy doesn’t give me a feeling like I’m missing anything as a new reader. Hobb provides established facts steadily over the course of the novel without being overbearing or condescending. I will certainly pick up the subsequent novels and look out for her earlier books as well. coverAt the same time, when I read a masterpiece like this, I feel that my own writing is hopelessly inadequate and I should just drop the pen immediately. George R.R. Martin, author of the acclaimed A Song of Ice and Fire series provides a review of Hobb that further destroys my own self-image: "In today’s crowded fantasy market, Robin Hobb’s books are diamonds in a sea of zircons." I know I shouldn't take Martin's quote personally at first glance, since I haven't even gotten my foot into the crowded fantasy market; but my first thought is, why am I even bothering calling myself a writer? It’s quite possible that someone mentioned that I actually have a descent talent for the art; however, I haven’t written anything in months. It all just seems like too much work. So what do I do with A Mirror’s Shard now? Part of my finishing the first draft had to do with a critique group in which I am no longer a member, therefore, I have no more incentive to finish the changes of the second draft on a regular basis. I’ve discussed getting a new writers group started, but have not yet taken the steps to incorporate it. I still have those nagging little voices telling me that I’m not good enough, from whence do I derive my authority? And then, once in a while I look at my current accomplishments: One published short story and one on the way. I’ve only submitted three stories for publication all told, and the only reason number two was rejected, was that the anthology “had its quota of Gay Male erotica.” As if I couldn’t write something else! Perhaps tomorrow I’ll pick up Shard once more and recommence my edits. If so, I’ll be certain to discuss these matters, here, on my website, for the pleasure of my friends. Incedentally, for those who haven't heard, I'm a Sci-Fi & Fantasy writer that uses Erotica from time to time, not an Erotic writer that uses Sci-Fi! Oh, and to purchase Fool's Errand, select the following link: Fool's Errand (Tawny Man, Book 1) Finally, to purchase the anthology in which I'm featured, click here: Law of Desire: Tales of Gay Male Lust and Obsession

7/4/2004

How Hot is Fahrenheit 9/11

I finally had the opportunity to see the movie Fahrenheit 9/11 by Michael Moore. Most of the movie was what I expected: mainly the presentation of an abundance of facts about the Bush Family that the American media has chosen to keep silent by a director skilled in the art of leftist propaganda. Although I had heard about much of George Bush’s ties to the bin Laden family, I was unaware of both their extent and the nature of specific meetings and financial involvement. Like cattle to the slaughter, Moore skillfully leads the audience toward the only possible conclusions he will allow. Furthermore, he uses the worst possible media clips of Bush and his cabinet, making certain that we understand that the president is the idiot ringmaster of a Circus of Fools, and the puppet of far more ruthless people such as his father and the vice president. Moore pulls no punches. I commend Moore for his ability to make a statement in a time when speaking out against the president and his policies is painted as unpatriotic or anti-American. However, I caution the viewer to maintain an open mind while watching this movie, for Moore uses tactics commonly favored by Republican campaigners. Michael Moore only gives part of the picture, and lends no time to any facts that might detract from those that support his own conclusions. This is irresponsible in itself because it gives the opposing side additional ammunition when it comes their turn to tarnish the movies credibility. As a documentary, Fahrenheit 9/11 is a fantastic movie. Make no mistake—however much I may love all things leftist and liberal, this movie is propaganda timed to coincide with an election year. I want George W. Bush out of the White House as much as Moore does. I only wish that my fellow countrymen would smarten up, and vote intelligently, and not the way one or another piece of propaganda tells them to vote. You can visit the official movie site at: Fahrenheit 9/11 | In Theaters Now!

7/3/2004

Who's Afraid of Virginia? -- Wolf.

As many of you know, The Commonwealth of Virginia recently enacted a law not only banning gay marriage but actively seeks to invalidate any contract between members of same-sex couples altogether. Don't forget this state was the birthplace of Thomas Jefferson and George Washington as well as many other heroes of freedom. Although I'm certain that these great spirits have much better places to be than rolling around in their graves—if that's in fact where they are, then I am positive that's what they're doing. Just so you know, there's a boycott going on. I just read about this site today in the Advocate News Magazine. Take a look at what you can do: Virginia is for Haters - Boycott Virginia Tourism and Business

Shipwrecked!

Here’s a little nod down to my friends in Key West, the Key West Wreckers. Being the party town that it is, I find that it’s a good place for me keep at arm's length, but for the tougher sort who can handle a place that boasts a bar on every corner, Key West has your number. The Key West Wreckers Levi/Leather Club was organized in 1991 by thirteen men (hence the “13” in their logo) interested in forming a club to endorse the leather lifestyle and raise charitable funds for the local community. They hold several fundraising parties on certain days of the year, and are quite busy during the week of Fantasy Fest. I even marched with them in their contingent back in 1999 (During my bad ol' days). You can find out more about them by visiting their site: Key West Wreckers – Levi Leather Club. Thank you, Gary, for your suggestion.

7/2/2004

Commit the crime...let us sort it out.

Being partnered with Michael has opened my eyes regarding the injustice system in this country, and I have come out firmly on the side of a number of different issues:

  • Restoration of criminal voting rights. I overheard a lady at our local Pollo Tropical complaining about the fact that she didn't want hardened criminals having a say in the elections. Florida is unique in that convicted felons have to petition the governor to restore their voting rights. They've paid society back. This should be automatic. Besides, anyone still involved in criminal activity is not likely to add their voice to the booth on voting day. Of course, It is no secret that the Governor Jeb Bush of Florida held up a number of petitions for restoration before the 2000 presidential election. Likely reason? Felons tend to vote Democrat.
  • End Mandatory Minimums. This is why we have judges. Sometimes the same crime is not the same crime, and doesn't deserve the same time. Judges should be left with the right to impose lesser sentences.
  • Abolition of the Death Penalty. Firstly, you can buy a life sentence—hire the right lawyers and you can even get away with murder. The death penalty is overwhelmingly used on the poor, notably those of non-white origin. Secondly, we've seen that mistakes can, and have been made. Thirdly, it's simply wrong. Nobody has the right to take a life; whether it be an individual or society as a whole. The death penalty is simply fodder for a mob mentality.
I'm on the email list for Floridians for Alternative to the Death Penalty. I'm always getting interesting information from them. Sam Reese Sheppard's father was wrongly convicted for killing his pregnant mother in a famous 1954 case often believed to be the inspiration for "The Fugitive." He is quite active, both in his own father's case and with efforts to end the death penalty. His website is fastinating: Sam Reese Sheppard: Seeking the Truth.

7/1/2004

Not so Mad Max

Tonight I watched Mad Max: Beyond Thunderdome as the finale of a fun, three-part Mad Max trilogy that my housemate, Will encouraged. Interesting point: We never even bothered to watch the original Mad Max before I returned it. We had both seen it long ago, and I started it, but it simply appeared archaic, dusty and uninteresting. I put it right back into the Netflix package where it belonged. Neither this movie nor the previous one, Road Warrior, is a marvel of modern cinema. Fascinating, yes, to the teenage sci-fi junkie that I was in the early eighties when they were released. Now that I’ve written a few things, however, I’m left to wonder about the continuity among the three movies. Mad Max’s IMDb description shows it as follows: In an Australian dystopia of decaying order and violent highways, a police pursuit driver is drawn into a path of vengeance after a motorcycle gang targets him for the death of their former leader. I still can’t remember what especially made it “the future” in Mad Max. I all seemed very mundane when I watched it. Road Warrior goes through a convoluted set-up that involves a war and then a gas crisis. Not much about nuclear devestation but it all seems to be about gasoline anyway. I think there could have been a political statement more applicable to today then 1981. The Thunderdome movie ends with a flight over a clearly post nuclear Sydney. I’m still trying to figure out with whom Australia went to war. Indonesia? Mel Gibson apparently was going to sign on to a fourth movie…the script was written and everything but it seems that Namibia is not a safe enough place to film the Australian desert and they canceled everything. I read somewhere that Mel Gibson said he was too old to play action movies. How old is Sean Connery?