It hasn't been a good morning. I was just about to leave for the university when I remembered that I hadn't downloaded the latest file of my students' marks onto my memory stick. So I unlock my apartment and do that. Then I bike the 25 minute trip to the university. It's when I get there that I realise that I locked my keys in my apartment. Which also means that I can't lock up my bike either, since the key is... you know.
(I do have a spare key to the apartment, but my father was the one who collected the set of keys and he forgot to give me the second one, so it's about 600 km west. And that also means that none of this is my fault, since it's clearly genetic.)
So I bike back to the apartment. I'm dressed for the -1 degree weather in everything but my shoes, which means by this point, my upper body is drenched with sweat, and my feet are numb. I verify that my door is, in fact, locked, stash my bike in the laundry room, and get the phone number for the landlord from the person across the hall (whom I have never spoken to prior, BTW. Great first impression.). Then I walk BACK to the university, because I can't catch a bus, since, guess what, I forgot my wallet too. Then once I reach the university, I realise that I need access to my office, because my students' test papers are in there. I get the department secretary to let me in--for the second time, because TWO DAYS AGO I locked the same set of keys in the office.
So yeah, not good start to the day.
I talked to my landlord, and I've arranged to be let in later (which was good; my landlord can be notoriously hard to get a hold of sometimes). And the whole thing was made a lot easier because my landlord and the grad secretary were both very understanding. But it still bugs me.
And this is where the life writing comes in.
This sort of thing happens to me a lot. A lot a lot. In fact, when I once described a similar occurrence to a group of friends, one commented, "yeah, that sounds like a Person sort thing to happen," and everyone else nodded sagely. (They used my real name, not Person, but you get the idea.) Events like this happen so often, people can use my name as an adjective to describe them. That's a problem.
People who know me know that I like stories, and I like telling stories. The latter is so much the case that sometimes, I'll even do things that I know are bad ideas, just for the story that will result. Things like ordering a bad drink (the oatmeal cookie martini) or taking a camera into a men's room. It's little stuff. But sometimes, I worry that I take it a step too far. I know people who seem to thrive on drama in their personal life, to the point where they'll make the same mistakes over and over again, and there's not much you can do besides lending an occasional ear and staying out of the way. And I'm concerned that I'm the same way, that the reason these ridiculous, convoluted scenarios keep happening to me is because, on some level, I want them to happen. And to deliberately cause such tension in my life--it just seems like such a waste, you know?
Still, I'm glad that this particular tension-causer looks like it's going to land topside up. Now all I have to worry about is that none of my fellow tenants steal my bike before I get home.
....crap, now I'm not going to be able to think of anything else, am I?
Later Days.
Thursday, October 30, 2008
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
Comic Book Wednesday: We're going to get an eye-rolling poem for every colour of the rainbow, aren't we?
Quick review, then big spotlight. Let's do this thing.
Final Crisis--Rage of the Red Lanterns. Like most of the Final Crisis tie-ins, this issue has relatively little to do with Final Crisis. It is, however, a crucial next step in Geoff Johns' ongoing Green Lantern saga. Plot: the Green Lanterns begin transporting the former green lantern Sinestro to his place of execution, when his Yellow Lantern Sinestro Corps arrive for an impromptu stay of execution. Then, in the middle of the fight, the Red Lanterns of Rage show up. Chaos ensues. As a chapter in Johns' ongoing story, this issue is a significant milestone that signals the next step in Rainbow Wars (there's probably going to be a better name for it than that. It's hard to take an event with the word "Rainbow" in it seriously.). And on that level, it succeeds. As a tie-in, it's tangentially involved at best, and as a one-shot, it kind of fails as well. I expect a one-shot to be a story to stand on its own, and this doesn't even attempt any sort of closure--in ends in the middle of the fight, with a note that the rest of the story can be found in the regular Green Lantern series. Please don't tell me I'm reading a final crisis one-shot when I'm really reading a Green Lantern double-sized issue. It's very good on the latter criteria, but on the former, it leaves something to be desired.
Cerebus, vols. 1-3. Looking back over the other three "in-depth" focuses, they've all been sort of gushes. Which is fine, and if any three comic series deserve it, it's those three, in my opinion. But today, I thought I'd like to look at something I feel a lot more ambiguous about. Cerebus and its writer, Dave Sim, are pretty notorious in the comic book world. But let's not start there. Let's start at the beginning, or at least, my beginning with this series.
Cerebus was something that always seemed to be in the library; a volume of it could be found in basically any public library that kept a graphic novel stock--and, if that library had an adult graphic novel section and a kids section, Cerebus volumes were invariably in the adults. (For good reason.) I put off reading it until I could find a copy of the first volume. Since it originally came out in issue form in the late 70s, I knew I was late to this party, but one tries to start at the beginning when one can. So I finally got my hands on a copy of the first volume, titled Cerebus, and found out what it was.
It was Conan the Barbarian, with an aardvark instead of a barbarian.
Meet Cerebus, people. He's kind of cute, isn't he?
And that's basically what the first stories were: typical Conan adventures with the added humour of juxtaposing an aardvark where the muscles should be. But even by the end of the first volume, things seem to have changed. It's more than just a parody; the characters have become more than one note jokes and the story itself has become more complex. The second volume, High Society, has Cerebus running for office. It's a deft satire on politics, the political process, and the nature of society. (And it's all beautifully drawn. Say what you want about Sim--and trust me, some say a lot-- the guy can draw.)
So we've got a well-written, informative book with plenty of purty pictures. Where's the problem? Well, there's a few. First, the whole thing is drawn out, quite a bit. Up to volume 4 is over 1000 pages, and while the other volumes slim down a bit, we're still talking another 8 books to go, and over 2000 pages more. That's asking for a big time investment. And by the end of book 4, the philosophical meanderings that started in the background are now at the forefront, and they get a bit tedious, to be blunt.
The big problem, though, was that after I read a little, I started to look for fan reaction to Sim on the net. And boy, did I find it. Most of the outright controversy revolves around Sim's anti-feminist stance. There are traces of this in the early stuff--there's a rape in volume 4, for example, that is just heinous. But misogynist characters don't mean a misogynist writer, right? (I would like to clarify that this a rhetorical question, and I am not calling Sim specifically a misogynist. Not at the moment, anyway.) Well... in Cerebus #186, there's this essay. And in #286, there's this. For those that don't feel like clicking, the #186 essay starts off:
So, on the one hand, I believe that there is a distinction between the author and the work. But from what I understand about where the series goes, the author's viewpoint and the book's are not going to be straying very far apart. There's a lot to admire about Sims; he's literally written the book on self-publishing. An exploration of his philosophical, religious, and gender beliefs can and probably are taking up more than few dissertations. But I don't know if I can keep reading, I don't know if I want to keep reading, knowing what I know about where the story goes. Would it have been different if I didn't know? Well, obviously it would be different. But would it be better to have devoted all that time and energy to a work I'd ultimately find repulsive? I don't know. Will I eventually read the series anyway, out of morbid curiosity? Again, I don't know.
So like I said... ambiguous.
Later Days.
Final Crisis--Rage of the Red Lanterns. Like most of the Final Crisis tie-ins, this issue has relatively little to do with Final Crisis. It is, however, a crucial next step in Geoff Johns' ongoing Green Lantern saga. Plot: the Green Lanterns begin transporting the former green lantern Sinestro to his place of execution, when his Yellow Lantern Sinestro Corps arrive for an impromptu stay of execution. Then, in the middle of the fight, the Red Lanterns of Rage show up. Chaos ensues. As a chapter in Johns' ongoing story, this issue is a significant milestone that signals the next step in Rainbow Wars (there's probably going to be a better name for it than that. It's hard to take an event with the word "Rainbow" in it seriously.). And on that level, it succeeds. As a tie-in, it's tangentially involved at best, and as a one-shot, it kind of fails as well. I expect a one-shot to be a story to stand on its own, and this doesn't even attempt any sort of closure--in ends in the middle of the fight, with a note that the rest of the story can be found in the regular Green Lantern series. Please don't tell me I'm reading a final crisis one-shot when I'm really reading a Green Lantern double-sized issue. It's very good on the latter criteria, but on the former, it leaves something to be desired.
Cerebus, vols. 1-3. Looking back over the other three "in-depth" focuses, they've all been sort of gushes. Which is fine, and if any three comic series deserve it, it's those three, in my opinion. But today, I thought I'd like to look at something I feel a lot more ambiguous about. Cerebus and its writer, Dave Sim, are pretty notorious in the comic book world. But let's not start there. Let's start at the beginning, or at least, my beginning with this series.
Cerebus was something that always seemed to be in the library; a volume of it could be found in basically any public library that kept a graphic novel stock--and, if that library had an adult graphic novel section and a kids section, Cerebus volumes were invariably in the adults. (For good reason.) I put off reading it until I could find a copy of the first volume. Since it originally came out in issue form in the late 70s, I knew I was late to this party, but one tries to start at the beginning when one can. So I finally got my hands on a copy of the first volume, titled Cerebus, and found out what it was.
It was Conan the Barbarian, with an aardvark instead of a barbarian.
Meet Cerebus, people. He's kind of cute, isn't he?And that's basically what the first stories were: typical Conan adventures with the added humour of juxtaposing an aardvark where the muscles should be. But even by the end of the first volume, things seem to have changed. It's more than just a parody; the characters have become more than one note jokes and the story itself has become more complex. The second volume, High Society, has Cerebus running for office. It's a deft satire on politics, the political process, and the nature of society. (And it's all beautifully drawn. Say what you want about Sim--and trust me, some say a lot-- the guy can draw.)
So we've got a well-written, informative book with plenty of purty pictures. Where's the problem? Well, there's a few. First, the whole thing is drawn out, quite a bit. Up to volume 4 is over 1000 pages, and while the other volumes slim down a bit, we're still talking another 8 books to go, and over 2000 pages more. That's asking for a big time investment. And by the end of book 4, the philosophical meanderings that started in the background are now at the forefront, and they get a bit tedious, to be blunt.
The big problem, though, was that after I read a little, I started to look for fan reaction to Sim on the net. And boy, did I find it. Most of the outright controversy revolves around Sim's anti-feminist stance. There are traces of this in the early stuff--there's a rape in volume 4, for example, that is just heinous. But misogynist characters don't mean a misogynist writer, right? (I would like to clarify that this a rhetorical question, and I am not calling Sim specifically a misogynist. Not at the moment, anyway.) Well... in Cerebus #186, there's this essay. And in #286, there's this. For those that don't feel like clicking, the #186 essay starts off:
- "Journalism had been an early casualty in the war between the Female Void and the Male Light. "How do you feel?" had virtually replaced "who, what, where, when and why" as the journalistic cornerstone."
So, on the one hand, I believe that there is a distinction between the author and the work. But from what I understand about where the series goes, the author's viewpoint and the book's are not going to be straying very far apart. There's a lot to admire about Sims; he's literally written the book on self-publishing. An exploration of his philosophical, religious, and gender beliefs can and probably are taking up more than few dissertations. But I don't know if I can keep reading, I don't know if I want to keep reading, knowing what I know about where the story goes. Would it have been different if I didn't know? Well, obviously it would be different. But would it be better to have devoted all that time and energy to a work I'd ultimately find repulsive? I don't know. Will I eventually read the series anyway, out of morbid curiosity? Again, I don't know.
So like I said... ambiguous.
Later Days.
Sunday, October 26, 2008
Down to a Fine Tea
Because you all need to know:
My God, Bengal Spice Tea is even good after it's been left cold on the counter for four hours. In fact, it might even be BETTER. Oh, tea:
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?
In what distant deep or skies
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand dare seize the fire?
And what shoulder and what art
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And when thy heart began to beat,
What dread hand and what dread feet?
... I have GOT to stop posting just before bed.
Later Days.
My God, Bengal Spice Tea is even good after it's been left cold on the counter for four hours. In fact, it might even be BETTER. Oh, tea:
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?
In what distant deep or skies
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand dare seize the fire?
And what shoulder and what art
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And when thy heart began to beat,
What dread hand and what dread feet?
... I have GOT to stop posting just before bed.
Later Days.
Person of Consequence is .
I was just a few websites down, playing with my Facebook account, when my attention was drawn to the plethora of Facebook ads available at the click of a mouse. Now, even prior to this, I knew on some level that, as nice as Facebook is, it isn't connecting me with family and friends out of the goodness of its own heart. But it's still kind of disturbing to how specific these ads are. 13 of the ads tell me that I could easily meet single women, which means they're mining my gender and relationship status. (At least, I'm assuming that they're using my relationship status. I could change the status and find out, but that would result in a lot of unnecessary 'xplain' to do within my Friendlist.)
There's an ad for Arrested Development t-shirts. Does that imply reading my Favorite TV shows list, or does it appear for everyone?
Many of the personals ads are Canadian-centric and another asks whether I am smarter than Steven Harper. (He's at 131, btw. Which is respectable, and certainly more than the "beat George Bush" ads you see everywhere.) So they're using my nationality.
Most disturbing are the ads targetted directly to residents of the city of ____________. It's a level of such specialization that I half-expect someone to come knocking on my door at any moment and offer my facebook account car insurance. (And that's where your wrong, faceless Facebook ad company! I don't even own a car!)
To further investigate this issue, I tried to make my own Facebook ad, which is ridiculously easy, as it turns out. All you need is a pre-existing account and a website and you pay a fee each time someone clicks on your ad. Facebook also includes a lot of helpful hints to writing a successful ad (and what it will accept); you can't use misleading images, you can't put WORDS IN CAPITALS or use Words That Aren't meant to be capitalized, for example. And you can't be derogatory towards your customers--no "you're fat, lose weight." It seems Facebook's looking at the big picture; no alienating the audience base.
Then there were the targetting choices. According to facebook, location is determined by IP address. And it does indeed choose ads based on profile keywords like "TV Shows." Other factors include gender, gender preference, relationship status, universities, jobs, even university majors. You use a "bid" to determine how much you're willing to pay per click or per view (in US currency), and the maximum amount per day.
Incidentally, according to Facebook, an ad that appears on every Facebook profile of Canadians 13+ will hit over 10 million people. According to the CIA (because who knows better than the public access portion of the CIA website?), Canada has about 33 million people (and covers an area "somewhat larger than the US" in a "strategic location between Russia and US". Try not to spend too much time thinking about what the CIA means by "strategic," there.), so that's a very sizable amount of our population using Facebook. And opening themselves up as key demographics.
(ASIDE: I was going to put CIA on my labels for this entry, but I really don't want to end up any scary lists. You heard it here first people: even after spending the last hour investigating their ad policies, Facebook is still more trustworthy than the US government.)
According to one of the papers the blog class has read recently, Facebook is trusted highly by its users, more so than, say, MySpace. But how much trust does it really deserve, when it was willing to let me and my fake ad utilize its profiles? Sure, it didn't provide access to any specific individuals, but if it's willing to let Joe Blow and his website take advantage of its system, how much would it take to divulge more info?
And if that's what Facebook is willing to do, who knows who is getting your Blogger data?
And with that thought, be sure to post those comments, people!
Providing that no one arrives in the next 24 hours to take me away in their discreet, unmarked van,
Later Days.
There's an ad for Arrested Development t-shirts. Does that imply reading my Favorite TV shows list, or does it appear for everyone?
Many of the personals ads are Canadian-centric and another asks whether I am smarter than Steven Harper. (He's at 131, btw. Which is respectable, and certainly more than the "beat George Bush" ads you see everywhere.) So they're using my nationality.
Most disturbing are the ads targetted directly to residents of the city of ____________. It's a level of such specialization that I half-expect someone to come knocking on my door at any moment and offer my facebook account car insurance. (And that's where your wrong, faceless Facebook ad company! I don't even own a car!)
To further investigate this issue, I tried to make my own Facebook ad, which is ridiculously easy, as it turns out. All you need is a pre-existing account and a website and you pay a fee each time someone clicks on your ad. Facebook also includes a lot of helpful hints to writing a successful ad (and what it will accept); you can't use misleading images, you can't put WORDS IN CAPITALS or use Words That Aren't meant to be capitalized, for example. And you can't be derogatory towards your customers--no "you're fat, lose weight." It seems Facebook's looking at the big picture; no alienating the audience base.
Then there were the targetting choices. According to facebook, location is determined by IP address. And it does indeed choose ads based on profile keywords like "TV Shows." Other factors include gender, gender preference, relationship status, universities, jobs, even university majors. You use a "bid" to determine how much you're willing to pay per click or per view (in US currency), and the maximum amount per day.
Incidentally, according to Facebook, an ad that appears on every Facebook profile of Canadians 13+ will hit over 10 million people. According to the CIA (because who knows better than the public access portion of the CIA website?), Canada has about 33 million people (and covers an area "somewhat larger than the US" in a "strategic location between Russia and US". Try not to spend too much time thinking about what the CIA means by "strategic," there.), so that's a very sizable amount of our population using Facebook. And opening themselves up as key demographics.
(ASIDE: I was going to put CIA on my labels for this entry, but I really don't want to end up any scary lists. You heard it here first people: even after spending the last hour investigating their ad policies, Facebook is still more trustworthy than the US government.)
According to one of the papers the blog class has read recently, Facebook is trusted highly by its users, more so than, say, MySpace. But how much trust does it really deserve, when it was willing to let me and my fake ad utilize its profiles? Sure, it didn't provide access to any specific individuals, but if it's willing to let Joe Blow and his website take advantage of its system, how much would it take to divulge more info?
And if that's what Facebook is willing to do, who knows who is getting your Blogger data?
And with that thought, be sure to post those comments, people!
Providing that no one arrives in the next 24 hours to take me away in their discreet, unmarked van,
Later Days.
Friday, October 24, 2008
Self-Reflexive
A week or two ago, when the blog reached its metaphorical halflife, I sent my professors an email asking for some feedback. I wanted to know how the blog was doing, whether my audience was sufficiently cultivated (do you feel cultivated? Are you growing strong and free? I'm pretty sure I've applied sufficient manure.), and, in a nutshell, what I should be writing about. The essential answer I got back was (only much, much nicer) "write about yourself, durr."
Which, I think, is pretty much what I was doing, and hence there haven't been any earth-shattering changes. But the real question, in my mind, is why I felt motivated to ask in the first place. Let's try some spitballing:
Which, I think, is pretty much what I was doing, and hence there haven't been any earth-shattering changes. But the real question, in my mind, is why I felt motivated to ask in the first place. Let's try some spitballing:
- Uncertainty in the quality of my writing. Yeah, I thought we'd get this one out of the way quick-like. A lot of up and coming blog writers talk at length about how uninteresting their lives are, and they don't really have anything to blog about. Note that you don't see that here. I know this is colossally arrogant, but I happen to think I'm a pretty good writer. Anything I write would be interesting by virtue of the fact that I'm the one writing it. "Person of Consequence" is not a title I chose with an entirely ironic intent. So... if there's a problem there, it's not on the side of uncertainty.
- Grade grubbing. This, sadly, may be more my style. Through high school, I was the top of my class academic-wise (which admittedly is not so difficult in a class of 25 kids, although I still faced some stiff competition. You know who you are.), and that's the sort of thing that can be very addictive, in terms of how you identify yourself. I think it definitely carried through to my undergraduate career--some of my motivation for doing a double major in mathematics and english sprung from the notion that while I may not be the best in either subject, no one could beat me in both. (Of course, there's also the joy in discovering the fundamental patterns that lie at the heart of both disciplines and the realization that even two disparate fields spring from the same source of human creativity and build the foundation of reasoning and insight. But we're accentuating the negative at the moment.) And a recent bad mark in my other graduate course suggests that I'm still feeling a connection between grades and self-esteem. On the other hand, this isn't entirely a bad thing; at its core, even my gormless grade grubbing (Off topic: apparently, according to wikipedia, gorm is a substance constructed from a mix of partially dried glue, milk, and food-colouring. So I'm not sure why being gormless is a big deal.) comes from a desire to excel.
- Working without a net. Digital media and the autobiography are both pretty new fields to me, and I can't say I'm 100% comfortable with either of them. So when you lump them together and try to make a blog out of it, the uncomfortability increases exponentially. And since this is a class project as much as it's a blog (or is it? Is it 60% a class project, 40% a blog? 70/30? 90/10?) it makes some of the questions that much more uncomfortable. For example, the only audience I can really guarantee for this blog is my two professors, and I certainly have never addressed them directly, and I'll bet dollars to donuts that none or few of my fellow students have done the same.
So I guess what I was looking for was a guiding principle, some reinforcement that I was going in the right direction. But the real problem is that I keep assuming there's "a" right direction to begin with. Yes, there's a goal in the end, but there's more than one way there, and the best way to press onward isn't to go looking for the pat on the head, but to make that jump, net or no net. So I guess it's kind of like life.
(Very special music plays in the background to ensure everyone realizes that Person of Consequence has learned an Important Lesson. He bows, and the stage curtain closes slowly. The applause light flickers on.)
Later Days.
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
Comic Book Wednesdays: "Anti-Life Equation" is a good description of Grad School.
Before we get to the main event:
Secret Invasion 7. The penultimate chapter in Marvel's latest massive blockbuster. It's still not firing on all cylinders, though. I think my problem with the series is twofold: First, by the time the invasion started, the "secret" part was largely over, which meant that it's basically one big fight scene. And, second and more important, it's a fight where I'm really only invested in one side of the equation; the skrulls are little more than faceless monsters at this point, and that's not particularly compelling for me--not for six straight months, anyway. Speaking more to this issue, I appreciate their attempts to label various figures, but honestly, if you need an explanatory label to tell who Wolverine is, you probably aren't going to be picking this up anyway. If you've enjoyed the ride so far, you'll probably enjoy this; if not, hold off till the pay-off next issue.
Final Crisis 4. Over on the other side of the pond, DC's big blockbuster seems to be heading on track. Issue 4 of 7 is a little late in the show to let the reader in on what the hell's happening, but better late than never, I guess. Most of humanity has come under the influence of the anti-life equation, and if you don't know what that means, you're standing in the wrong line. In essence, the remaining heroes gather for a final stand, and a totally-expected villain takes the stage. Morrison's script is popping, and Jones, Pacheco, and Merino present a twisted and intriguing view of the ravaged Earth. Tattooed Man fans (both of you) have something to cheer for, and there's a kick-ass scene with Green Arrow that shows why Oliver plays with the big boys. A must-buy for DC fans, even if it doesn't excuse the previous issues.
X-Factor 36. It may not be blockbuster, but it's good story. Well, it used to be. For those not in the know, X-Factor is a team of mutant private investigators, lead by Jamie Madrox, the Multiple Man, whose mutant power is to create duplicates, each of which manifests a different aspect of his personality. And the book has sort of lost its way since Layla Miller, the team's twelve year old clairvoyant, got lost in the future. (This happens in comics a lot.) In this issue, the team gears up to rescue new member, Darwin, whose mutant power is to adapt a power to any given situation. Writer Peter David has done interesting things with Darwin ( ex) he's revealed Darwin was noncaucasan, but turned white growing up in a predominantly white neighbourhood as a defensive mechanism), but it's turned the focus away from the rest of the team, which is the book's real draw. And the art... I just can't get used to Larry Stroman. It's amusing how he manages to work a truly impressive number of obese Americans into each and every issue, but his disproportioned characters are often very oftputting, and don't jive well with a comic that used to define itself through a noir-shaded realism. I'll recommend the early issues to anyone who can get their hands on them as a fascinating investigation of a shattered identity, but this... not so much.
That last one kind of turned into a long review anyway, huh? Ah well.
Later Days.
- My yet-unseen office mate left me a news clipping stating that Michael Cera will play Scott Pilgrim in the Scott Pilgrim movie. I approve of this, and not just because I have a man-crush on Michael Cera. All right, mostly because of that.
- I've had kind of a rough week, and worse, it's been pretty much my own fault. But today I got to drink a big pot of Bengal Spice Tea, so now it's all good.
Secret Invasion 7. The penultimate chapter in Marvel's latest massive blockbuster. It's still not firing on all cylinders, though. I think my problem with the series is twofold: First, by the time the invasion started, the "secret" part was largely over, which meant that it's basically one big fight scene. And, second and more important, it's a fight where I'm really only invested in one side of the equation; the skrulls are little more than faceless monsters at this point, and that's not particularly compelling for me--not for six straight months, anyway. Speaking more to this issue, I appreciate their attempts to label various figures, but honestly, if you need an explanatory label to tell who Wolverine is, you probably aren't going to be picking this up anyway. If you've enjoyed the ride so far, you'll probably enjoy this; if not, hold off till the pay-off next issue.
Final Crisis 4. Over on the other side of the pond, DC's big blockbuster seems to be heading on track. Issue 4 of 7 is a little late in the show to let the reader in on what the hell's happening, but better late than never, I guess. Most of humanity has come under the influence of the anti-life equation, and if you don't know what that means, you're standing in the wrong line. In essence, the remaining heroes gather for a final stand, and a totally-expected villain takes the stage. Morrison's script is popping, and Jones, Pacheco, and Merino present a twisted and intriguing view of the ravaged Earth. Tattooed Man fans (both of you) have something to cheer for, and there's a kick-ass scene with Green Arrow that shows why Oliver plays with the big boys. A must-buy for DC fans, even if it doesn't excuse the previous issues.
X-Factor 36. It may not be blockbuster, but it's good story. Well, it used to be. For those not in the know, X-Factor is a team of mutant private investigators, lead by Jamie Madrox, the Multiple Man, whose mutant power is to create duplicates, each of which manifests a different aspect of his personality. And the book has sort of lost its way since Layla Miller, the team's twelve year old clairvoyant, got lost in the future. (This happens in comics a lot.) In this issue, the team gears up to rescue new member, Darwin, whose mutant power is to adapt a power to any given situation. Writer Peter David has done interesting things with Darwin ( ex) he's revealed Darwin was noncaucasan, but turned white growing up in a predominantly white neighbourhood as a defensive mechanism), but it's turned the focus away from the rest of the team, which is the book's real draw. And the art... I just can't get used to Larry Stroman. It's amusing how he manages to work a truly impressive number of obese Americans into each and every issue, but his disproportioned characters are often very oftputting, and don't jive well with a comic that used to define itself through a noir-shaded realism. I'll recommend the early issues to anyone who can get their hands on them as a fascinating investigation of a shattered identity, but this... not so much.
That last one kind of turned into a long review anyway, huh? Ah well.
Later Days.
Monday, October 20, 2008
Bathroom Humour
It's the little things that really get to you when you're trying to adjust to a new city. Accepting that certain streets don't run parallel, and you're just going to have to deal with it. Coming to terms with the surprising relative dearth of 7-11s. And, the subject of today's epic installment, becoming acquainted with the differences in washroom facilities on campus.
The first time I responded to nature's urgency on campus, after the task was finished, I came face-to-face with the following apparatus:
This, evidently, was a sink. And I had absolutely no idea how to use it. So I stood around for a bit in utter confusion and waited, hands outstretched, for someone else to finish up and show me how the friggin' sink worked. As you'd imagine, this constitutes odd behaviour for a public men's washroom. Since no one seemed to be close to finishing present business, I darted my hands under the sink. While it didn't look high-tech enough, there was a chance, however small, that it had a motion sensor. Nope. And if I looked odd before, imagine how I appeared at this point, hands outstretched like I was waiting for the water to come to me. (Which, in all fairness, I was.)
So I stood there, feeling like a complete dolt, and certainly not like someone who deserved to be in a graduate program. (I study English, dammit! Not alternative sink design!) Then the epiphany moment came. Like the blind men and the elephant, I had failed to consider the whole picture. The sink actually looked more like this:
See the foot rail along the bottom? Step on that, and water comes out the top. It's an admirable design, really, and a low-tech solution to the age-old irony of how you wash your hands after you go to washroom to make things clean by turning on the faucet with your germ-ridden hands. It's also an example of how moving to a new city is about learning new ideas, and accepting new concepts. New concepts concerning sinks.
FYI: if you think you get weird looks in a men's room standing around trying to work the sink, that's nothing compared to the looks you get when you bring out the digital camera.
And, because no discussion of public washrooms is complete without it, here's a link to the top ten most fascinating urinals.
You're welcome.
The number # 1 is, frankly, not that impressive in and of itself, but I think numbers 6, 5, and 10 make up for it.
Later Days.
The first time I responded to nature's urgency on campus, after the task was finished, I came face-to-face with the following apparatus:
This, evidently, was a sink. And I had absolutely no idea how to use it. So I stood around for a bit in utter confusion and waited, hands outstretched, for someone else to finish up and show me how the friggin' sink worked. As you'd imagine, this constitutes odd behaviour for a public men's washroom. Since no one seemed to be close to finishing present business, I darted my hands under the sink. While it didn't look high-tech enough, there was a chance, however small, that it had a motion sensor. Nope. And if I looked odd before, imagine how I appeared at this point, hands outstretched like I was waiting for the water to come to me. (Which, in all fairness, I was.)
So I stood there, feeling like a complete dolt, and certainly not like someone who deserved to be in a graduate program. (I study English, dammit! Not alternative sink design!) Then the epiphany moment came. Like the blind men and the elephant, I had failed to consider the whole picture. The sink actually looked more like this:
See the foot rail along the bottom? Step on that, and water comes out the top. It's an admirable design, really, and a low-tech solution to the age-old irony of how you wash your hands after you go to washroom to make things clean by turning on the faucet with your germ-ridden hands. It's also an example of how moving to a new city is about learning new ideas, and accepting new concepts. New concepts concerning sinks.FYI: if you think you get weird looks in a men's room standing around trying to work the sink, that's nothing compared to the looks you get when you bring out the digital camera.
And, because no discussion of public washrooms is complete without it, here's a link to the top ten most fascinating urinals.
You're welcome.
The number # 1 is, frankly, not that impressive in and of itself, but I think numbers 6, 5, and 10 make up for it.
Later Days.
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