Well, you win America. I'm going on a diet.
It's not that I'm happy being overweight. I'm quite unhappy about the way I look. I hate that I get winded when I have to run up and down the stairs for various reasons. The pain in my back, feet and knees tells me that something needs to change, and quickly. I also know that my weight issues can contibute to Diabetes, high blood pressure, and heart attacks, and having two young children, I would like to be around for a while to see them finish growing up, and to not force them to continue that growing without a father. But make no mistake, America, you have made this more of a necessity than previously thought.
For instance, there is a bigotry inherent in this country, propagated by the beautiful people. Every few months, news programs run stories on how fat Americans are getting, showing heavy people in a terrible light. The subjects of these stories are filmed in ill-fitting clothing, eating food deemed "bad", and shown from angles that are less than flattering. These "news" pieces are on par with the films of Leni Riefenstahl, making fat people seem like a blight upon society. And constantly in these pieces, reporters love to get nutritionists and health nuts to give the latest statistics about how many more fat folks there are than there have ever been.
The irony of that is the fact that retail stores refuse to carry clothes for people my size. The major department stores seem to think that everyone falls within a very small range of sizes, and if the clothes don't fit, tough luck. Some still have a Plus Size section, but all too often the fashionable clothing for the skinny folks is conspicuously missing, replaced by button-down shirts with bad patterns, jeans that went out of fashion in the late seventies, and polo shirts in colors that I wouldn't be caught dead in. As my mother used to complain that clothes makers believed that all heavy women wore muumuus, I find that those same clothiers honestly believe that all heavy men want to dress like the participants of a seniors' golf outing.
Now, they can get around this by claiming that there are plenty of big and tall stores out there for us to go to for clothes, and with the advent of online retailers, there should be no issue. However, where I work, I have to wear a white, button-down dress shirt. Such a shirt is easy to find, unless you're a big fellow like myself. And for me to go to a big and tall store means paying more money than I have just to get clothes for work. Unfair as it may be to me, the retailers get what they want: Fewer fatties in their stores making them unattractive to their target shoppers.
I would call for a boycott of those stores, but I realize several things. First is that fact that there are too many items I need to go to those stores for. Second is the fact that a boycott really, in the end, does no good. Sure, if a real movement could be formed, then it might bring attention to the issue. However, they still have the upper hand, because free enterprise allows them to distribute only that which they want to sell. And they know that we'll be back at some point, because we rely upon them.
Of course, there are the reality shows to point out just how much happier we would all be if we were like everyone else. Whether it's something as simple as a makeover show or a competition where contestants see how much more weight they can lose, the experts hammer it into these poor fools' minds that they should change how they are. Yes, there are health benefits, but those health benefits are merely added to make the people behind these shows seem more benevolent. Deep down, they just want everyone to join with them a be a member of their race. Sign up and live longer, healthier...and more attractive to the general population.
So this is it, America. I give up! I'll play your little game. Better eating and exercise, so that I might finally join your exclusive club.
But touch my liquor, and we'll have words.
Sunday, December 25, 2011
Tuesday, December 6, 2011
Walmart, the Internet, and the End of Life as I Knew It
Growing up, I was a bit of a mallrat. For a kid from a small town, the mall was like a city unto itself. If you needed, wanted or lusted after it, it was at the mall. I would spend hours in those glorious temples of the almighty dollar sign, going from store to store in search of that one item that neither I nor anyone else had. I would haunt the aisles of book stores searching through sections that interested me. I scoured racks of albums for hard to find or import albums, or find those bands that I had never heard of. And then there were the video stores, where I could find the movies that were off the beaten trail – b-movies, foreign films, cult horror, all treasures for me to find.
And the most magical part of these stores was one simple thing: The Human Element. While it was pretty common to find the clerks in these stores to be nothing more than a high school kid who would rather ignore you that help you, there were those employees that went out of their way to help you, and had quite the working knowledge of whatever their store sold, be it movies, music, books, or anything else your heart desired. And on a really good day, you could spend hours in a shop talking with like-minded customers who could point you in the direction of new, uncharted ground when it came to underground music, little-known books, or movies that no one else in a three county radius had ever heard of. I could often be found picking up tapes or CDs of bands I had never heard of just on the recommendation of someone else who was of the same mindset as I was, or stocking my bookshelves with new tomes that were sure to appeal to my sensibilities. And I myself was often able to give suggestions to others who might be in need of a little help in finding those hidden gems.
But in the 1990s, Walmart decided that they wanted to be the number one retailer in the world, which meant selling products at a much cheaper rate than specialty stores could. However, the caveat was that you had to accept the products on their terms. Albums were edited for general consumption, so as to not offend the fainted hearted, and the variety of albums was seriously lacking. And their book and video sections only carried titles that were guaranteed to sell, and were again selected for the average shopper, who may file a lawsuit if they were forced to walk past something that may be offensive. While most shoppers went along with it for the convenience of “one-stop shopping”, there were still those of us that were willing to go out of our way for more obscure and unabridged pleasures. We could still go to those stores that catered to our needs.
Alas, the Internet saw to it that those needs could be filled without ever leaving home. Amazon.com rose to become a behemoth in the world of retail, and had everything you could get at those specialty shops and more. Eventually Walmart got in on the act, and now you can order anything you would normally go to the store for hand have it shipped to your house. Then there was Napster and the file sharing craze, which killed so many brick and mortar shops. Now, you can download a new book, album or movie to your iPad, phone or any other electronic device, and never have to deal with those smelly people again. You can make your own playlist of songs picked from any assortment of artists, read your “book”, text your bffs, and enjoy your worry-free day without pesky clerks or annoying customers getting in your way. Really, who wants to have a conversation with complete strangers about any of that anyway?
Well, dammit, I do! I want to have the option of going into a record shop and having long, drawn out conversations about music, or sit in a book store and have deep discussions about the writings of authors I love, or to have someone personally recommend something for me to read. I want to go into a video shop and have the guy behind the counter point me in the direction of a movie that I might not have otherwise seen, because he knows what I dig, and can relate. Instead, I can go to any website and have automated recommendations, or those annoying “Shoppers who purchased this item also purchased…” lists. Sure, they get it right some of the time, but all you get is a title, and then some customer reviews, most of which read as though they’re written by an elementary student who hasn’t had his Ritalin. There’s no warmth in those recommendations, no love for the product. When I sit and talk movies or music or books with someone, I can gauge their reaction, and I can see the excitement when they talk about a movie or album they really loved and want me to check out. That human experience has been replaced, and we’re a sorrier world for it. As it stands, the only real bastion of community left is the comic book shop, where I have been known to spend hours talking comics, comic book movies, cult movies and television, and might only spend a few bucks on one book. But it’s that conversation that makes the experience worthwhile. True, the big comic companies have always had those who would rather subscribe and have their issues sent to their homes, and now with the dawn of the digital comic, you can download those just as easily as you could the works of Lovecraft or the latest Megadeth album. But I’m not ready to give up that last sanctuary I have left, where anyone can go in, physically pick up a book, and have the guy behind the counter say “If you like this, check this title out”. Because I’m not sure I’m ready to give up all of my humanity just yet.
And the most magical part of these stores was one simple thing: The Human Element. While it was pretty common to find the clerks in these stores to be nothing more than a high school kid who would rather ignore you that help you, there were those employees that went out of their way to help you, and had quite the working knowledge of whatever their store sold, be it movies, music, books, or anything else your heart desired. And on a really good day, you could spend hours in a shop talking with like-minded customers who could point you in the direction of new, uncharted ground when it came to underground music, little-known books, or movies that no one else in a three county radius had ever heard of. I could often be found picking up tapes or CDs of bands I had never heard of just on the recommendation of someone else who was of the same mindset as I was, or stocking my bookshelves with new tomes that were sure to appeal to my sensibilities. And I myself was often able to give suggestions to others who might be in need of a little help in finding those hidden gems.
But in the 1990s, Walmart decided that they wanted to be the number one retailer in the world, which meant selling products at a much cheaper rate than specialty stores could. However, the caveat was that you had to accept the products on their terms. Albums were edited for general consumption, so as to not offend the fainted hearted, and the variety of albums was seriously lacking. And their book and video sections only carried titles that were guaranteed to sell, and were again selected for the average shopper, who may file a lawsuit if they were forced to walk past something that may be offensive. While most shoppers went along with it for the convenience of “one-stop shopping”, there were still those of us that were willing to go out of our way for more obscure and unabridged pleasures. We could still go to those stores that catered to our needs.
Alas, the Internet saw to it that those needs could be filled without ever leaving home. Amazon.com rose to become a behemoth in the world of retail, and had everything you could get at those specialty shops and more. Eventually Walmart got in on the act, and now you can order anything you would normally go to the store for hand have it shipped to your house. Then there was Napster and the file sharing craze, which killed so many brick and mortar shops. Now, you can download a new book, album or movie to your iPad, phone or any other electronic device, and never have to deal with those smelly people again. You can make your own playlist of songs picked from any assortment of artists, read your “book”, text your bffs, and enjoy your worry-free day without pesky clerks or annoying customers getting in your way. Really, who wants to have a conversation with complete strangers about any of that anyway?
Well, dammit, I do! I want to have the option of going into a record shop and having long, drawn out conversations about music, or sit in a book store and have deep discussions about the writings of authors I love, or to have someone personally recommend something for me to read. I want to go into a video shop and have the guy behind the counter point me in the direction of a movie that I might not have otherwise seen, because he knows what I dig, and can relate. Instead, I can go to any website and have automated recommendations, or those annoying “Shoppers who purchased this item also purchased…” lists. Sure, they get it right some of the time, but all you get is a title, and then some customer reviews, most of which read as though they’re written by an elementary student who hasn’t had his Ritalin. There’s no warmth in those recommendations, no love for the product. When I sit and talk movies or music or books with someone, I can gauge their reaction, and I can see the excitement when they talk about a movie or album they really loved and want me to check out. That human experience has been replaced, and we’re a sorrier world for it. As it stands, the only real bastion of community left is the comic book shop, where I have been known to spend hours talking comics, comic book movies, cult movies and television, and might only spend a few bucks on one book. But it’s that conversation that makes the experience worthwhile. True, the big comic companies have always had those who would rather subscribe and have their issues sent to their homes, and now with the dawn of the digital comic, you can download those just as easily as you could the works of Lovecraft or the latest Megadeth album. But I’m not ready to give up that last sanctuary I have left, where anyone can go in, physically pick up a book, and have the guy behind the counter say “If you like this, check this title out”. Because I’m not sure I’m ready to give up all of my humanity just yet.
Monday, December 27, 2010
Apologies
I have unfortunately neglectged this blog for far too long. I have been contributing to www.shadowlocked.com, a blog site for geek-related topics. However, I have some things to write about that aren't necessarily for that crowd, and I will be back to posting here. I hope everyone had a safe and happy holiday season, and I'll talk to you cats later.
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
Sherlock Holmes: World's First Autistic Hero
For years, I've been a fan of the master detective, Sherlock Holmes. From the books and stories to the films and television productions, I love his adventures. And for the last few years, I have been the parent to two Autistic children. So recently, I have been re-reading the stories and watching some of the Basil Rathbone and Jeremy Brett adventures (leading up to finally seeing the new film this weekend), and suddenly, it hit me like a ton of bricks: Sherlock Holmes was Autistic! I'm sure that if I were a psychiatrist, I could write a facinating, best-selling book on the subject. However, since I'm merely an over-educated working class fellow, you're just getting a blog. Somehow, dear reader, I know you'll get over it.
Now, perhaps I misspoke. Holmes was either a very high-functioning Autistic or at the very least fell somewhere in the Autism Spectrum, possibly having Asperger's or a similiar disorder. Looking at the character in a completely new light after being around my children, I see many similarities. In no way do I make these claims lightly, but with the view of someone who has worked with those affected by this disorder.
First off, Holmes is a savant. His musical talent, his ablity to see things that average observers would overlook, and the way he has a vast amount of knowledge about subjects that interest him, but not have any knowledge of subjects that he deems "unnecessary". In "A Study in Scarlet", Watson informs Holmes that the Earth revolves around the sun, to which Holmes comments that he will immediately try to forget this information. I find a parallel to my children here. My daughter can't remember to bring dishes down from her room or repeat what I've told her two seconds after I've said it, but she can nearly memorize any book about dinosaurs she reads, and can tell you anything about Pokemon you would want to know (or not know, as the case usually is). Mr. Holmes sees the world in a much different way, and has a true sense of right and wrong, which is typical for someone that falls within the Autism Spectrum.
He also is able to look at the most minute detail, and through his own deductive reasoning, can tell more about the object or person than others might be able to. It is this attention to details - no matter how small - that make me think his mind works like that of an Autistic person.
Second, Holmes has an over-active mind. When there is no case to occupy his time, he self-medicates, usually with his seven-percent solution of Cocaine, but was also known to use Morphine. While I don't know many Autistic children that shoot up, it's not too far off from treating them with Ritalin or anti-depressants to calm their thoughts. However, while working a case, his mind is constantly focused on it, allowing nothing else to occupy his thoughts. I see this with my own kids as well as other Autistic people that I have spent time with. They can only focus on the task at hand, and usually get quite upset when that task is disrupted.
In this same way, Watson often mentions that Holmes' housekeeping skills leave much to be desired. Papers are often stacked in disarray, giving the appearance of clutter. But when something is needed out of the disorder, Holmes can find exactly what it is he needs with little searching. As Nietzsche would say, out of his chaos comes order. I am always amazed at the state of my kids' rooms, and how nothing can be found, but my children can usually go right to what it is they are looking for.
And one cannot read the stories without noticing Holmes' anti-social behavior. While he can interact with others, he is very curt, often impolite. While this may be due to a large ego, I think it could also be associated with Autism. He knows "how" to act, but doesn't necessarily execute it in the right way. He also rarely shows emotion, and other times has fits of mania, and wild mood swings, which could be attributed with bi-polar disorder. It is here I would point out that many Autistics are often diagnosed with bi-polar disorder. His relationships are few and far between. His closest friend is Dr. John Watson, whom he has deep feelings for and is loyal to a fault to, but still insults him often, not thinking about the other's feelings. And his one and only love, Irene Adler, passed away, and he never found another woman that he felt was a worthy match for him. Perhaps he is incapable of true love as most know it, much like someone with Autism. It's not that they don't want someone in their lives or can't love, they just can't love like the average person.
Watson also goes into detail throughout the stories about Holmes' hygene. While he leaves his apartment in a shambles, he himself has a "cat-like" love of personal cleanliness. He is always clean shaven, and well-groomed. I can only think of my son, who would take four or five baths a day if he were allowed.
I feel that the evidence is there in the stories. Sherlock Holmes, in my humble opinion, falls somewhere in the Autism Spectrum. And I couldn't be more delighted. Perhaps he can become an inspiration to a new following, adding to the millions who already love his tales.
Now, perhaps I misspoke. Holmes was either a very high-functioning Autistic or at the very least fell somewhere in the Autism Spectrum, possibly having Asperger's or a similiar disorder. Looking at the character in a completely new light after being around my children, I see many similarities. In no way do I make these claims lightly, but with the view of someone who has worked with those affected by this disorder.
First off, Holmes is a savant. His musical talent, his ablity to see things that average observers would overlook, and the way he has a vast amount of knowledge about subjects that interest him, but not have any knowledge of subjects that he deems "unnecessary". In "A Study in Scarlet", Watson informs Holmes that the Earth revolves around the sun, to which Holmes comments that he will immediately try to forget this information. I find a parallel to my children here. My daughter can't remember to bring dishes down from her room or repeat what I've told her two seconds after I've said it, but she can nearly memorize any book about dinosaurs she reads, and can tell you anything about Pokemon you would want to know (or not know, as the case usually is). Mr. Holmes sees the world in a much different way, and has a true sense of right and wrong, which is typical for someone that falls within the Autism Spectrum.
He also is able to look at the most minute detail, and through his own deductive reasoning, can tell more about the object or person than others might be able to. It is this attention to details - no matter how small - that make me think his mind works like that of an Autistic person.
Second, Holmes has an over-active mind. When there is no case to occupy his time, he self-medicates, usually with his seven-percent solution of Cocaine, but was also known to use Morphine. While I don't know many Autistic children that shoot up, it's not too far off from treating them with Ritalin or anti-depressants to calm their thoughts. However, while working a case, his mind is constantly focused on it, allowing nothing else to occupy his thoughts. I see this with my own kids as well as other Autistic people that I have spent time with. They can only focus on the task at hand, and usually get quite upset when that task is disrupted.
In this same way, Watson often mentions that Holmes' housekeeping skills leave much to be desired. Papers are often stacked in disarray, giving the appearance of clutter. But when something is needed out of the disorder, Holmes can find exactly what it is he needs with little searching. As Nietzsche would say, out of his chaos comes order. I am always amazed at the state of my kids' rooms, and how nothing can be found, but my children can usually go right to what it is they are looking for.
And one cannot read the stories without noticing Holmes' anti-social behavior. While he can interact with others, he is very curt, often impolite. While this may be due to a large ego, I think it could also be associated with Autism. He knows "how" to act, but doesn't necessarily execute it in the right way. He also rarely shows emotion, and other times has fits of mania, and wild mood swings, which could be attributed with bi-polar disorder. It is here I would point out that many Autistics are often diagnosed with bi-polar disorder. His relationships are few and far between. His closest friend is Dr. John Watson, whom he has deep feelings for and is loyal to a fault to, but still insults him often, not thinking about the other's feelings. And his one and only love, Irene Adler, passed away, and he never found another woman that he felt was a worthy match for him. Perhaps he is incapable of true love as most know it, much like someone with Autism. It's not that they don't want someone in their lives or can't love, they just can't love like the average person.
Watson also goes into detail throughout the stories about Holmes' hygene. While he leaves his apartment in a shambles, he himself has a "cat-like" love of personal cleanliness. He is always clean shaven, and well-groomed. I can only think of my son, who would take four or five baths a day if he were allowed.
I feel that the evidence is there in the stories. Sherlock Holmes, in my humble opinion, falls somewhere in the Autism Spectrum. And I couldn't be more delighted. Perhaps he can become an inspiration to a new following, adding to the millions who already love his tales.
Saturday, January 2, 2010
Confessions of a DOCTOR WHO addict
Since the late seventies, I've been a fan of the Sci-Fi/Fantasy genre. I read comic books, watched STAR TREK on re-runs, and spent far too many hours thinking about STAR WARS. But there was one show that was different from the others. DOCTOR WHO was a brilliant show imported from the BBC, which followed the exploits of an enigmatic problem-solving character known only as The Doctor, a Time Lord from Gallifrey. Instead of a phaser or lightsaber, he used his brain to solve just about any problem facing him (with the occasion assist from his trusty Sonic Screwdriver or a robot dog). He was an alien, traveling time and space, and picking companions along the way to keep him company, and often, to help the audience learn some lesson that was being taught in the episodes. And as I've been watching BBC America's 48-hour marathon of the latest Doctor's run on the show, eagerly awaiting his final appearance in tonight's US premiere of his finale, I've been thinking an awful lot about my favorite Science Fiction show.
DOCTOR WHO got its humble start on November 23, 1963, just a few short years before STAR TREK made its television debut. Originally, it was to be a fact-based science show, set as an action-adventure for children and famlies. Then Terry Nation wrote a script for an episode that introduced one of The Doctor's fiercest villains, The Daleks, a hate-filled cybornetic race. The Doctor, with his granddaughter Susan, travel through time and space, learning about the universe and helping out where they can. One night, two of Susan's teachers from Earth come around to where they live, to learn more about Susan, who is exceptionally bright and far ahead of her peers in the fields of history and science. They follow Susan to a junk yard, and into a police box. There, they are astonished to find that the inside of the box is by far larger than the outside (it's a transdimentional effect, which none of you would have the capacity to understand, so we'll just leave it by saying "It's Magic!"). The ship, called a TARDIS (Time and Relative Dimension in Space), was "borrowed" by The Doctor, and he has been on his own ever since. The two teachers become the first companions, and set out with their new alien friend to see what majesties await. A few years later, William Hartnell, the first actor to portray The Doctor, became too ill to perform. Where this might have been the end of any other show, the producers took a gamble, and decided to add to his alien abilities. They decided that Time Lords, upon dying, could "regenerate" into another, competely different body, with all new traits and mannerisms, but still the same character. Over the years, we've seen nine such regenerations, leading up to David Tennant, who has been wonderful in his portryal of The Doctor (and in my opinion, tied in second place with Sylvester McCoy - Tom Baker will always be my favorite Doctor, though).
But what has attracted me to the show and kept me a fan for most of my 33 years is the fact that The Doctor is the hero I always wanted to be. Sure, I wanted to be Captain Kirk, or Luke Skywalker, or even Batman, but The Doctor was even cooler than all of them combined. He is a genius, who can solve any problem put before him and win any arguement given. He's centuries old, and yet is wonderfulfully naïve, almost childlike, filled with awe and wonder by the simplest of things. And while he has, over the years, relied on hand-to-hand combat, swordplay, and even used a gun or two, he is always the pacifist, always trying to never take a life, even when it may mean that millions others would be saved. In a fantastic Tom Baker adventure, he is sent by the Time Lords to Skaro, to the point when Davros is about to create the Daleks. Their mission: Stop them at all costs. This would, of course, ensure that countless lives would he spared their cruelty over the centuries. In the end, The Doctor couldn't finish the task, asking himself the question "Do I have the right", knowing that he would have to live with the guilt of genocide, even knowing how many he would save in the process. This would end up being a fateful decision, as the Time Lords and the Daleks would fight a great Time War, the only victor being The Doctor, as he wound up destroying the Daleks, but also destroying his home planet in the process. The series was finally brought back in 2005, with Christopher Eccleston in the title role, fresh off of the Time War, and filled with grief and angst. He befriends a young Earth girl, Rose, who helps him learn to be The Doctor again. One great episode was "Dalek", where The Doctor and Rose land in a secret base in New Mexico, and come across a surviving Dalek that had crashed to Earth. Rose influences the creature to realize that its hatred was useless, and stands between it and The Doctor as the later pointed a lazer rifle at the cyborg. He then realizes that this action wouldn't change anything in the long run, and tearful, he drops the weapon. Eccleston did one season, and Tennant took over, making the role completely his own. Tennant is a self-confessed DW nut from childhood, and it shows in his performance. He has a reverance for the character and the show, and you can tell he cherishes his time in the TARDIS. Tonight, we'll watch him say goodbye, and welcome yet another actor into our homes as our old friend (a young actor by the name of Matt Smith). I for one, will be sitting with a box of Kleenex at the ready.
Over the years, The Doctor has been written in many different ways by different writers, each one adding the the mythos of the Time Lord. In the late eighties, Sylvester McCoy's run introduced us to a Doctor that was truly more than he seemed, even to those of us that had seen the show from the first episode. In one episode, it was even stated that sometime before he dies, he would go back to the time of King Arthur and take on the mantle of Merlin. And while always having been the unapproachable teacher/guide through the years, someone who had no interest in the romantic, recent years have seen him becoming closer to his companions, with what could be described as sexual tension at times. But even with that, he's still our Doctor. We've stuck with him through low budgets, bad effects, sub-par writing, Colin Baker, a horrible US-made TV movie (made in 1996 by FOX in conjunction with the BBC, intended to be a continuation of the series that had been cancelled in 1989, but performed poorly, so DW sat in limbo with only audio stories being made until the new series) and years a biting at every nibble that came our way about the time we would see our hero again.
I have taken more than my fair share of lumps since my childhood for being a DW fanboy. Only a few of my friends watched it, and none of them really had the love for the program that I had. I even went out one Halloween as Tom Baker's incarnation, which led to far too many questions of "Who are you supposed to be", and the look of confusion when I told them who I was, and tried to explain the show. Do I regret it? No more than I would regret playing STAR WARS on the playground as a kid, or going out as Spock another Halloween. No, I am a geek, and one of the true ones at that. Because while it's become fashionable to be a STAR WARS fan over the years, or to say you love comic books because you loved the X-MEN movies, or tp now proclaim your undying love for STAR TREK because the new movie was good, there aren't as many out there that are willing to express any love for the good Doctor. And those of us that are brave enough to shout our undying affection for our favorite Time Lord from the highest peaks are a stronger fanbase, because we don't have a crowd to follow. We are Whovians, and we aren't ashamed.
And now, Allons-y!
DOCTOR WHO got its humble start on November 23, 1963, just a few short years before STAR TREK made its television debut. Originally, it was to be a fact-based science show, set as an action-adventure for children and famlies. Then Terry Nation wrote a script for an episode that introduced one of The Doctor's fiercest villains, The Daleks, a hate-filled cybornetic race. The Doctor, with his granddaughter Susan, travel through time and space, learning about the universe and helping out where they can. One night, two of Susan's teachers from Earth come around to where they live, to learn more about Susan, who is exceptionally bright and far ahead of her peers in the fields of history and science. They follow Susan to a junk yard, and into a police box. There, they are astonished to find that the inside of the box is by far larger than the outside (it's a transdimentional effect, which none of you would have the capacity to understand, so we'll just leave it by saying "It's Magic!"). The ship, called a TARDIS (Time and Relative Dimension in Space), was "borrowed" by The Doctor, and he has been on his own ever since. The two teachers become the first companions, and set out with their new alien friend to see what majesties await. A few years later, William Hartnell, the first actor to portray The Doctor, became too ill to perform. Where this might have been the end of any other show, the producers took a gamble, and decided to add to his alien abilities. They decided that Time Lords, upon dying, could "regenerate" into another, competely different body, with all new traits and mannerisms, but still the same character. Over the years, we've seen nine such regenerations, leading up to David Tennant, who has been wonderful in his portryal of The Doctor (and in my opinion, tied in second place with Sylvester McCoy - Tom Baker will always be my favorite Doctor, though).
But what has attracted me to the show and kept me a fan for most of my 33 years is the fact that The Doctor is the hero I always wanted to be. Sure, I wanted to be Captain Kirk, or Luke Skywalker, or even Batman, but The Doctor was even cooler than all of them combined. He is a genius, who can solve any problem put before him and win any arguement given. He's centuries old, and yet is wonderfulfully naïve, almost childlike, filled with awe and wonder by the simplest of things. And while he has, over the years, relied on hand-to-hand combat, swordplay, and even used a gun or two, he is always the pacifist, always trying to never take a life, even when it may mean that millions others would be saved. In a fantastic Tom Baker adventure, he is sent by the Time Lords to Skaro, to the point when Davros is about to create the Daleks. Their mission: Stop them at all costs. This would, of course, ensure that countless lives would he spared their cruelty over the centuries. In the end, The Doctor couldn't finish the task, asking himself the question "Do I have the right", knowing that he would have to live with the guilt of genocide, even knowing how many he would save in the process. This would end up being a fateful decision, as the Time Lords and the Daleks would fight a great Time War, the only victor being The Doctor, as he wound up destroying the Daleks, but also destroying his home planet in the process. The series was finally brought back in 2005, with Christopher Eccleston in the title role, fresh off of the Time War, and filled with grief and angst. He befriends a young Earth girl, Rose, who helps him learn to be The Doctor again. One great episode was "Dalek", where The Doctor and Rose land in a secret base in New Mexico, and come across a surviving Dalek that had crashed to Earth. Rose influences the creature to realize that its hatred was useless, and stands between it and The Doctor as the later pointed a lazer rifle at the cyborg. He then realizes that this action wouldn't change anything in the long run, and tearful, he drops the weapon. Eccleston did one season, and Tennant took over, making the role completely his own. Tennant is a self-confessed DW nut from childhood, and it shows in his performance. He has a reverance for the character and the show, and you can tell he cherishes his time in the TARDIS. Tonight, we'll watch him say goodbye, and welcome yet another actor into our homes as our old friend (a young actor by the name of Matt Smith). I for one, will be sitting with a box of Kleenex at the ready.
Over the years, The Doctor has been written in many different ways by different writers, each one adding the the mythos of the Time Lord. In the late eighties, Sylvester McCoy's run introduced us to a Doctor that was truly more than he seemed, even to those of us that had seen the show from the first episode. In one episode, it was even stated that sometime before he dies, he would go back to the time of King Arthur and take on the mantle of Merlin. And while always having been the unapproachable teacher/guide through the years, someone who had no interest in the romantic, recent years have seen him becoming closer to his companions, with what could be described as sexual tension at times. But even with that, he's still our Doctor. We've stuck with him through low budgets, bad effects, sub-par writing, Colin Baker, a horrible US-made TV movie (made in 1996 by FOX in conjunction with the BBC, intended to be a continuation of the series that had been cancelled in 1989, but performed poorly, so DW sat in limbo with only audio stories being made until the new series) and years a biting at every nibble that came our way about the time we would see our hero again.
I have taken more than my fair share of lumps since my childhood for being a DW fanboy. Only a few of my friends watched it, and none of them really had the love for the program that I had. I even went out one Halloween as Tom Baker's incarnation, which led to far too many questions of "Who are you supposed to be", and the look of confusion when I told them who I was, and tried to explain the show. Do I regret it? No more than I would regret playing STAR WARS on the playground as a kid, or going out as Spock another Halloween. No, I am a geek, and one of the true ones at that. Because while it's become fashionable to be a STAR WARS fan over the years, or to say you love comic books because you loved the X-MEN movies, or tp now proclaim your undying love for STAR TREK because the new movie was good, there aren't as many out there that are willing to express any love for the good Doctor. And those of us that are brave enough to shout our undying affection for our favorite Time Lord from the highest peaks are a stronger fanbase, because we don't have a crowd to follow. We are Whovians, and we aren't ashamed.
And now, Allons-y!
Saturday, December 5, 2009
Harry Potter Vs. Twilight: The Great Debate
For the last couple of years, there has been a phenomenon taking the world by storm. No matter where you look, there are signs of its presence: Books, posters, pictures, t-shirts, action figures, and all sorts of other paraphernalia. It can cause females of most ages to turn into screaming maniacs in a matter of seconds. Its power has taken control of millions. This force's name is...Twilight!
Now, I don't understand Twilight. Don't get me wrong, I love vampires, I love werewolves, I even like a nice, romantic story now and then. But this, it doesn't do it for me. The all-powerful badboy killer is a stalker, the girl is co-dependant, and the dialogue is, well, laughable. Now, while I haven't read the books, my wife made me sit and watch the first movie. She assured me that if I didn't care for it, I certainly wouldn't enjoy the books. And believe me, to say I didn't care for the movie is putting it lightly.
So, am I being unfair to the Twilight phenomenon? Is there something to it that I'm missing? Is there an underlying, deeper message in all of it? The fans tell me there is. The message is love: true love, forbidden love, dangerous love. But in a time when society is eschewing princesses and fairy tales and people are looking for strong female characters for young girls to embrace, why would folks be attracted to a book series where the female lead is anything but? I'm told that it's romantic, but to me, there's nothing romantic about obsessing over someone the way that Bella obsessed over Edward. It's throwing feminism out the window. And I am apparently immune to its sway.
But not long ago, I was swayed by a phenomenon that was taking over the world the way that Twilight has. Everyone, it seemed, was buying into it. You couldn't turn around without seeing the influence of it. Even now, it still has dedicated followers numbering in the millions. That force of nature started with a book about a 10-year-old wizard named Harry Potter.
I had no real interest in any book series aimed at a younger audience. But then there were the calls for bans of the books by religious groups, and my interest piqued. Then the first movie came out, and I watched it, instantly falling in love with the story. I sat down and read the first three books back to back. I was surprised at how intelligent the books were written. While being labled "kids' books", they seemed like something more sophisticated. They didn't talk down to children, and seemed to be written as much for grown ups as for young people. Our young hero, a social outcast, finds out that his deceased parents were wizards, and that he is to leave for a school for people with magical abilities. Every book in the seven book series chronicles a year in his life, and how every year he and his friends deal with a new terror that threatens their lives, and they deal with the growing pains that teenagers deal with, world of magic or not. The magic of the books - the school set in a medieval castle, the mythical creatures, the way it uses a fantasy world to deal with everyday issues like racism and class struggle - made me an instant fan. I have read all of the books, and have loved everyone of them.
So what makes a kids' book about wizards more inviting than a book about a "lion falling in love with a lamb" (yeah, that line makes me feel like vomiting as well)? I suppose the Twilighters could be right, that I can't get into the head of a teenage girl, and can't understand how they think about love. But I feel that's an unfair claim. After all, there are plenty of females that love Harry Potter, and understand him. It has to be more than that.
First off, the writing. JK Rowling has a wonderful writing style, and even at her low points, she's amazing. The dialogue is wonderful, and the characters are deep and well-conceived. She not only makes you care about the people in her stories, but she makes them so real, you feel a kinship with them. You're actually on these adventures with them. You feel what they're feeling, and every book is an emotional rollercoaster. You laugh one chapter, and weep the next. The closest I came to feeling an emotional bond with any of the characters in Twilight was laughing at unintentionally funny lines.
Second, the story. I was bored enough with the struggle of Bella and Edward by the end of the first movie. I couldn't imagine investing time in multiple books that only deal with one love story. And how long can you really listen to mopey Bella moan about how she can't have what she wants? The HP books, on the other hand, are new and exciting every time. Sure, you could argue that it's the long, drawn out wait until the final showdown between Harry and Voldemort, but Rawling makes you want to see how the next chapter will play out. It engrosses you, envelops you, and makes you part of the story.
So, maybe what it all really boils down to is personal taste. I dig Star Wars, heavy metal, horror movies, and all sorts of other things that many others dislike. I'm not going to try to change their minds, and they certainly won't change my mind. So I say, to each their own. Viva la difference. You go out, stand in line for the midnight showings of the Twilight sage movies, you read the books, buy the soundtracks, wear the t-shirts, and sit and gush over how much you love Robert Patterson's hair. Just please, don't try to get me to enjoy any of it.
Because, after all, I'm right.
Now, I don't understand Twilight. Don't get me wrong, I love vampires, I love werewolves, I even like a nice, romantic story now and then. But this, it doesn't do it for me. The all-powerful badboy killer is a stalker, the girl is co-dependant, and the dialogue is, well, laughable. Now, while I haven't read the books, my wife made me sit and watch the first movie. She assured me that if I didn't care for it, I certainly wouldn't enjoy the books. And believe me, to say I didn't care for the movie is putting it lightly.
So, am I being unfair to the Twilight phenomenon? Is there something to it that I'm missing? Is there an underlying, deeper message in all of it? The fans tell me there is. The message is love: true love, forbidden love, dangerous love. But in a time when society is eschewing princesses and fairy tales and people are looking for strong female characters for young girls to embrace, why would folks be attracted to a book series where the female lead is anything but? I'm told that it's romantic, but to me, there's nothing romantic about obsessing over someone the way that Bella obsessed over Edward. It's throwing feminism out the window. And I am apparently immune to its sway.
But not long ago, I was swayed by a phenomenon that was taking over the world the way that Twilight has. Everyone, it seemed, was buying into it. You couldn't turn around without seeing the influence of it. Even now, it still has dedicated followers numbering in the millions. That force of nature started with a book about a 10-year-old wizard named Harry Potter.
I had no real interest in any book series aimed at a younger audience. But then there were the calls for bans of the books by religious groups, and my interest piqued. Then the first movie came out, and I watched it, instantly falling in love with the story. I sat down and read the first three books back to back. I was surprised at how intelligent the books were written. While being labled "kids' books", they seemed like something more sophisticated. They didn't talk down to children, and seemed to be written as much for grown ups as for young people. Our young hero, a social outcast, finds out that his deceased parents were wizards, and that he is to leave for a school for people with magical abilities. Every book in the seven book series chronicles a year in his life, and how every year he and his friends deal with a new terror that threatens their lives, and they deal with the growing pains that teenagers deal with, world of magic or not. The magic of the books - the school set in a medieval castle, the mythical creatures, the way it uses a fantasy world to deal with everyday issues like racism and class struggle - made me an instant fan. I have read all of the books, and have loved everyone of them.
So what makes a kids' book about wizards more inviting than a book about a "lion falling in love with a lamb" (yeah, that line makes me feel like vomiting as well)? I suppose the Twilighters could be right, that I can't get into the head of a teenage girl, and can't understand how they think about love. But I feel that's an unfair claim. After all, there are plenty of females that love Harry Potter, and understand him. It has to be more than that.
First off, the writing. JK Rowling has a wonderful writing style, and even at her low points, she's amazing. The dialogue is wonderful, and the characters are deep and well-conceived. She not only makes you care about the people in her stories, but she makes them so real, you feel a kinship with them. You're actually on these adventures with them. You feel what they're feeling, and every book is an emotional rollercoaster. You laugh one chapter, and weep the next. The closest I came to feeling an emotional bond with any of the characters in Twilight was laughing at unintentionally funny lines.
Second, the story. I was bored enough with the struggle of Bella and Edward by the end of the first movie. I couldn't imagine investing time in multiple books that only deal with one love story. And how long can you really listen to mopey Bella moan about how she can't have what she wants? The HP books, on the other hand, are new and exciting every time. Sure, you could argue that it's the long, drawn out wait until the final showdown between Harry and Voldemort, but Rawling makes you want to see how the next chapter will play out. It engrosses you, envelops you, and makes you part of the story.
So, maybe what it all really boils down to is personal taste. I dig Star Wars, heavy metal, horror movies, and all sorts of other things that many others dislike. I'm not going to try to change their minds, and they certainly won't change my mind. So I say, to each their own. Viva la difference. You go out, stand in line for the midnight showings of the Twilight sage movies, you read the books, buy the soundtracks, wear the t-shirts, and sit and gush over how much you love Robert Patterson's hair. Just please, don't try to get me to enjoy any of it.
Because, after all, I'm right.
Monday, November 23, 2009
The Holiday Season
Here we are again, amidst another great Holiday season. Thanksgiving is nearly here, and then we dive headlong into Christmas, Hanukkah, Winter Solstice, or whatever holiday it is you celebrate. It's a time of year that I love. And I say that without the slightest bit of irony. I should hate it, because between spending two months wages on my kids, working retail with a public that makes Christmas more hectic that it needs to be, and trying to arrange celebrations with every family member, it causes migranes and ulcers. But call me sentimental (or, at the very least, mental), but I have fond memories of Christmas. The excitement of the month, waiting to see what Santa was going to bring me. The difficult time I had sleeping on Christmas Eve, and the joy that was going out to the living room and seeing what gifts had been put under the tree for my sister and I.
But I've noticed that the Christmas season isn't what it was so long ago. Christmas commercials no longer reflect on times long ago, filled with sentimentality and nostalgia, but are just holiday-themed versions of their regular commercials. Television specials no longer make an effort to show how special a time it is, but exagerate the stress of the season. Nor do they make the effort to show the great animated specials we cherished as kids. We try too hard to recreate our happy memories for a generation that doesn't have time for such frivolities, like Clark Griswald, questioning our parents how they did it all.
Well, it's not our fault. The last few generations have learned to live without nostalgia. The internet has it there for them at the click of a mouse. While we had the memory of the great and wonderful times (usually created in our heads), they can go to YouTube, where one of their friends has probably posted it. They can watch A CHARLIE BROWN CHRISTMAS online, where as we had to wait until it was shown on TV every December. And then there's the fact that we've gotten our kids into so many activities, that they don't have time to sit down and enjoy a cup of egg nog and a cookie with us. How many of us actually have a free weekend anytime after the middle of Novemeber? Commercials that once showed retro Christmases with family and friends gathered together have given way to advertisements for $200 robot dinosaurs, and other toys that our kids will play with once, and either break or forget about once the next XBox game comes out.
So we do as we've been doing for the last few years. We run around trying to find the perfect presents that won't send our kids into hysterics, the biggest turkey and ham for our rushed dinners with family, and spend $20 on that Special Edition DVD of WHITE CHRISTMAS. But if I might, I'd like to give some advice. Whether our not you take it is completely up to you.
Take a day or two. Don't plan anything for that time period, other than sitting with your family. Turn off the cell phones and computer, and bake some cookies. Break out some Christmas candy. Turn up the strereo and listen to some Bing Crosby. Put up the tree, string the lights, pop in A CHARLIE BROWN CHRISTMAS, and enjoy yourselves. And maybe - just maybe - you can create some fond memories with your kids that they'll actually want to share with their kids.
Oh, and don't buy them socks for Christmas. No one likes that.
But I've noticed that the Christmas season isn't what it was so long ago. Christmas commercials no longer reflect on times long ago, filled with sentimentality and nostalgia, but are just holiday-themed versions of their regular commercials. Television specials no longer make an effort to show how special a time it is, but exagerate the stress of the season. Nor do they make the effort to show the great animated specials we cherished as kids. We try too hard to recreate our happy memories for a generation that doesn't have time for such frivolities, like Clark Griswald, questioning our parents how they did it all.
Well, it's not our fault. The last few generations have learned to live without nostalgia. The internet has it there for them at the click of a mouse. While we had the memory of the great and wonderful times (usually created in our heads), they can go to YouTube, where one of their friends has probably posted it. They can watch A CHARLIE BROWN CHRISTMAS online, where as we had to wait until it was shown on TV every December. And then there's the fact that we've gotten our kids into so many activities, that they don't have time to sit down and enjoy a cup of egg nog and a cookie with us. How many of us actually have a free weekend anytime after the middle of Novemeber? Commercials that once showed retro Christmases with family and friends gathered together have given way to advertisements for $200 robot dinosaurs, and other toys that our kids will play with once, and either break or forget about once the next XBox game comes out.
So we do as we've been doing for the last few years. We run around trying to find the perfect presents that won't send our kids into hysterics, the biggest turkey and ham for our rushed dinners with family, and spend $20 on that Special Edition DVD of WHITE CHRISTMAS. But if I might, I'd like to give some advice. Whether our not you take it is completely up to you.
Take a day or two. Don't plan anything for that time period, other than sitting with your family. Turn off the cell phones and computer, and bake some cookies. Break out some Christmas candy. Turn up the strereo and listen to some Bing Crosby. Put up the tree, string the lights, pop in A CHARLIE BROWN CHRISTMAS, and enjoy yourselves. And maybe - just maybe - you can create some fond memories with your kids that they'll actually want to share with their kids.
Oh, and don't buy them socks for Christmas. No one likes that.
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