Mock Ramblings

Friday Joke Part Three: The Pope vs. The Rabbi

2012-01-27T14:35:00.001-06:00

...And all this has reminded me of yet another joke that I remember from a long time ago. This is an old joke, and there are at least a dozen variations of it, but this is the closest I could find to the version I remember. It's kind of a visual joke, though, so you'll have to see it on video to get it.

Friday Joke Continued: In Remembrance

2012-01-27T11:00:00.002-06:00

Another religious joke, because apparently that's where my brain is at today.
One Sunday morning, the pastor noticed little Johnny standing in the foyer of the church, looking at a large plaque that hung there. After the young man of seven had stood there for some time, the pastor walked up beside him and said quietly, "Good morning, son."

"Good morning, Pastor," replied the youngster, not taking his eyes off the plaque. "Can I ask you, Sir -- What is this for? Why are all these names listed on here?"

"Well, son, these are all the people who have died in the service," replied the pastor.

Soberly, they stood together, staring up at the large plaque. Little Johnny's voice barely broke the silence when he asked quietly, "Which one, Sir, the 8:30 or the 10:30?"

So hey, as long as I'm throwing these out here, what are your favorite religious-ish jokes?

Friday Joke: The New Priest

2012-01-27T08:12:00.004-06:00

I remember hearing this joke in my youth - from a priest, no less - and thought I'd share it in the hope of brightening everyone's Friday. So, enjoy!

The new priest was so nervous at his first mass, he could hardly speak. Before his second appearance in the pulpit he asked the Monsignor how he could relax. The Monsignor said, "Next Sunday, it may help if you put some vodka in the water pitcher. After a few sips, everything should go smoothly." The next Sunday, the new priest put the suggestion into practice and was able to talk up a storm. He felt great. However, upon returning to the rectory, he found a note from the Monsignor. It read:

Next time, sip rather than gulp.
There are 10 commandments, not 12.
There are 12 Disciples, not 10.
We do not refer to the cross as the big "T".
The recommended grace before meals is not "Rub-a-dub-dub, thanks for the grub, yaaaaaaaay Lord!"
Do not refer to our savior, Jesus Christ and his apostles as "J.C. and The Boys".
David slew Goliath. He did not "kick the shit out of him."
The Father, Son, and Holy Spirit are never referred to as "Big Daddy, Junior, and The Spook".
It is always the Virgin Mary, never "Mary with the Cherry".
Last, but not least, next Wednesday there will be a taffy pulling contest at St. Peter’s. There will not be a Peter pulling contest at St. Taffy’s.

A story to illustrate plot

2012-01-26T09:15:00.007-06:00

Firstborn: "What is plot?"

Me: "Well, let's look at a story."

Once upon a time, there were two boys. Their names were {Firstborn} and {Secondborn}. Firstborn and Secondborn were lost in the woods. They had no idea how to find their way home.

Firstborn: "Let's say we went to Target and bought a new calendar and put it on the wall. And then we went to bed, and when we woke up our bed was in the woods and we didn't know how we got there."

Me: "Okay. Creepy. We'll work it in."

So Firstborn and Secondborn got out of their bed, which was now in the middle of the woods. They looked around. Then they saw something moving in the bushes - something really, really big. They said, "Ahhhh! A monster! Run away!" And they ran and ran.

Then they came to a clearing. You know what a clearing is? It's an open space where there aren't any trees. And in that clearing was a house. Firstborn and Secondborn saw the house, and they said: "A house! Maybe somebody who lives there can help us." So they went and knocked on the door.

The door swung open, so they went in. Inside the house was a witch, in a long black dress and a pointy black hat. She looked at the boys, and said, "Oh, good, you're just in time for dinner."

Firstborn said, "Good. We are very hungry. We would love some dinner."

But the witch said, "No, you don't understand. I am very hungry, and I'm going to have you for dinner!" And she used her magic to close the door and make it so they couldn't open it.

Firstborn: "And then I went bonk! bonk! and I threw her into the wall!"

Me: "Okay, then."

So the witch was knocked out. And since she was knocked out, the spell that held the door closed didn't work anymore. So Firstborn opened the door and said, "Now we can go home."

But Secondborn picked up the witch's broom. "I bet we can use this to get home," he said.

So Firstborn and Secondborn went outside, and they sat on the broom. Just then a big monster came out of the woods. The monster said, "You bonked my witch! I will eat you up!"

But Firstborn and Secondborn said, "Too late! We are going to fly away on this broom!" And they flew up into the air, and the monster couldn't get them.

Then they flew the broom all the way home, and lived happily ever after. The End.

Me: "So, who were the characters in the story?"

Firstborn: "Me, and {Secondborn}. And the witch... and the big guy."

Me: (surprised) "Very good. So the characters are Who Is In The Story. Now, the plot is What Happens In The Story."

Firstborn: (looks thoughtful)

Me: (ticking off points on my fingers) "You woke up in the woods. You ran away from the monster. You found a house. You went inside. The witch tried to eat you. You bonked the witch. You took the broom. You escaped the monster. You flew home. That's the plot."

Me: "Now, what's the setting?"

Firstborn: "The forest."

Me: (surprised, again) "Very good. You've been working on this in school?"

Firstborn: "Yes."

Me: "Well, now when you get to plot, you'll know what the plot is, right? It's what happens in the story."

Firstborn: "Right."

* * *
Notes:
It occurs to me on reading this that Firstborn also has a natural understanding of roleplay. In fact, this might count as the first GMing I've done in years.

Firstborn will be six in June - so he's just over five and a half years old right now. Secondborn will be two in mid-April, so he's about one and three quarters right now. So while Secondborn talks in the story, he mostly sort of burbles in real life - his current vocabulary is about two dozen words. ("Mommy, Daddy, Elmo, Apple, Water, Please, Choo-Choo (train), Beep-Beep (car), Meow (Cat), Pizza," and like that.)

Music Recommendation: Heartless Bastards

2012-01-25T12:49:00.015-06:00

Heard this band on the radio this morning and thought I'd share. The Heartless Bastards are an Austin band, and worth a listen:

"Parted Ways"

"All This Time"

"Came A Long Way"

Rebuttal - Too Smart To Have Children

2012-01-25T07:40:00.213-06:00

Trigger warning: rape, death penalty, and adultery are all mentioned in passing.

One of my iFriends just pointed out an article titled Too Smart To Have Children on a blog called "Set Your Heart." To be fair, I should point out that I don't ordinarily read that blog, and I am unfamiliar with the belief tradition that its author is working from. (In fact, I wasn't initially sure that he was even a Christian; there's an awful lot of Jewish terminology in his writing. But the Statement of Faith for the place where he's an Elder explicitly includes both the Old and New Testaments as the inspired, infallible, and authoritative Word Of God. So, y'know, pretty clearly Christian.) Also, this particular piece is from all the way back in July of 2011, so this is not what you might call a timely response.

Having said that... well...

Okay, first of all, it opens by quoting from Psalm 127. Understand, I don't think there's anything wrong with that particular Psalm in itself; it's just that people seem to read it... oddly. In particular, that's precisely the same Psalm that a father in the Quiverful movement recently told me that he "prayed over" before coming to embrace that particular lifestyle. (This was the same man who insisted that the "Godly Model" of marriage was obvious to anyone who prayed over it, and that anyone whose marriage was set up differently didn't have the faith to follow God's Plan For Everyone. I'm paraphrasing, but only slightly.) So seeing this particular passage again throws up a huge red flag for me.

Then I started reading the post itself, and the red flag was suddenly joined by all sorts of flashing lights and blaring sirens.

The recent census has reported that children are now making up less of America's population than ever before. According to the passage of Scripture above, children are a heritage (an inheritance, a gift) and a reward from Adonai. What can we deduce from these two facts?

Okay, I can actually answer this. What can we deduce from these two facts? Not much. From a Biblical perspective, the U.S.A. now has less of the blessing of children per capita than it had before. That's about all you can deduce here.

Unfortunately, deduction isn't actually what our author has in mind.

Adonai has given us a choice; we choose if we want to be blessed or cursed. The Bible says that children are a blessing but Americans don't want children. In fact they consider them 'inferior goods.' The Bible says that debt is a curse but Americans will take take as much of it as they can get.

See? This isn't a deduction. It's a mess of assertions and rampant over-generalizations. Frankly, I'm a bit irritated to be told that Americans don't want children: I'm an American, and I wanted children - and now I have two boys, and guess what? I still want them. I just don't want any more children.

Look, I'm down with the idea that children are a blessing. Thing is, they're also a responsibility. They take work, and use up resources: time, money, energy. They require attention. Saying that they're a blessing doesn't change that. I generally consider beer a blessing, too, but that doesn't mean I should be drinking as much of it as possible as often as possible.

That said, it's a nice rhetorical setup, isn't it? There's a choice between Good and Evil. Children are good. Debt is evil. Everybody wants debt, nobody wants children. Who has time to deal with nuance or complexity when the world is clearly going to Hell in a handbasket?

As our nation moves further and further away from God and His Torah (instructions), it becomes more and more profane. In the US it is now the norm to choose curses over blessings because the curses make more sense in this secular society and the ways of God are seen as archaic, antiquated and flat out foolish.

Okay, first of all, these sorts of blanket statements about the rise of evil in the world? People have been saying that since at least 2800 B.C. So at this point in history, I'm having a hard time taking the assertion seriously.

Second, the ways of God are seen as archaic, antiquated, and flat-out foolish? Nonsense! The only reason I don't stone disobedient children is that I don't have a gate to drag them out to. Here in Texas, we're all in favor of imposing the death penalty for adultery. And, of course, the country has really never been the same since we gave up on the idea that anyone convicted of rape should have to marry his victim and pay her father fifty shekels of silver.

Last week I came across an article from Time Magazine that labels fertility [in women] as a stumbling block to higher education. A recent study has found that:

"...women who had children early — by their mid-20s — were much less likely to continue their education beyond the required first two years of high school; they were also less likely to achieve a higher degree later in life than women who delayed childbearing until they finished their education."

The researchers of this study find it is necessary to inform young women about this potential difficulty in pursuing an education. It is their belief that by educating young women, they will be able to make better decisions, like how many children to have. But what does God have to say about education?

The researchers of this study "find it necessary" to inform people of their findings, because that's what researchers do. It's not like they're conducting a smear campaign against pregnancy, here. They're pointing out that women are far more likely to finish their educations if they do so before they have children. This is factually correct, and something to consider if getting an advanced degree is one of your goals. So why would our author object to this?

I can make a guess, of course: children are a blessing, so if women are putting off having children in order to pursue advanced degrees, then clearly they aren't receiving all the blessings they could be... and by extension, they're depriving the rest of us of those blessings as well. But, of course, our author does not explicitly say this.

Instead, he asks: "But what does God have to say about education?" I'm just going to go out on a limb here, and suggest: "Not much."

And, look! I'm right!

With the help of Bible software, I searched for the word 'education' in a few of the more popular translations of the Bible and did not find it once.

But is that going to stop us from drawing conclusions anyway? No, of course not.

However, the Bible does mention the word 'knowledge' 130-169 times, depending upon the translation. In fact, Proverbs 1:7 declares that "The fear of the LORD is the beginning of knowledge." Before we can have a proper understanding about anything, we must first acknowledge Adonai as God and His Holy Word as relevant for our lives today. Only then will we be able to see the world through His eyes and make decisions that are in alignment with His will.

And this is relevant how, exactly? I mean, okay, points for a boilerplate restatement of basic Christian doctrine, but this has nothing to do with higher education. It does nothing whatsoever to support your thesis.

And then, just as I'm shaking off the whiplash from that abrupt change of topic, our author changes direction again:

Am I saying that women should not pursue a higher education? Of course not.

See? His Christian beliefs aren't repressive. Education is fine for women, as long as they understand that having as many babies as possible is far more important.

The point I am trying to make is this: we must be very careful when we handover our young adults to professors and teachers in secular universities and colleges.

Oh, and we should be careful about letting women get educated. It might be dangerous. He's saying that, too.

So, to recap: education is fine for women, and it's dangerous so we have to be very careful about it.

When believing young women become immersed in a secular educational system, they can sometimes become too smart to have children. They may end up rejecting the blessings that our God desires for them.

That's right. God desires the same blessings for all women, and those blessings are children. Advanced education, rewarding careers, and personal development are never blessings from God; babies are always blessings from God. Get your priorities straight, people: babies. Babies are the priority. Face it, if you're not having babies, you are not being blessed!

We may be one of the smartest nations in the world but we are obviously[1] not receiving all the blessings that God intends for us to have.

And the solution for that is clear: less education and more children.

But wait! The Apostle Paul clearly states that celibacy is the Christian ideal, and marriage is for people who lack the self-control for celibacy. So by delaying having children, and possibly even educating themselves to the point of complete unmarriageability, these young women that our author is so worried about may actually be moving closer to a Godly lifestyle! Clearly,[2] this is something we need to encourage.

[1] I love the way "obviously" gets tucked in the middle of that sentence. It's the sort of thing that college Sophomores tend to stick into papers when they haven't actually defended or supported a conclusion, and they're hoping the professor won't notice.

[2] See the note on "obviously", above.

Do it yourself Wooden Sword

2012-01-24T13:20:00.000-06:00

Friend of mine posted a link to this on my FB wall a while back. So, for the benefit of anyone who might be so inclined: How to make a wooden sword for your kid.

Open Thread: Writer's Recharge tips

2012-01-24T08:15:00.019-06:00

There are several writing projects that I'd like to be working on. Unfortunately, January in Dallas/Fort Worth is currently... I don't know, sixty degrees or so - I mean, I'm in slacks and shirt, here. Who needs a jacket, or even a sweater, in the middle of January, right? So, yeah. Nice Spring weather. With, of course, nice Spring allergies.

So, my head is stuffy and a little achy, and I'm notably more tired than I should be. First World Problems, I'll admit, but still annoying - especially when I'm hoping to get some writing done.

The upshot of all that is that I don't really have anything witty or insightful to say today. So this is an open thread. In honor of the occasion, the suggested (but by no means mandatory) topic is, "What helps you get over writer's block? (Or Artist's block, or other sorts of doldrums in the creativity?)"

For me, exercise usually helps. Violent exercise, for a preference, but even a medium-length walk has been known to help. What about you?

Somebody explain Bakugan to me?

2012-01-23T08:03:00.002-06:00

Okay, I have a pop culture question: can somebody tell me what the deal is with Bakugan?

To be fair, I have only a limited interaction with the milieu. Firstborn owns a mess of the toys, mostly in the form of oddly-colored little golf balls that pop open into easily-broken robot/animals when placed against a ferrous metal. These toys came with cards, but we've mostly lost those. I presume, therefore, that it's basically a game, similar to Magic: The Gathering or Pokemon, but built around these toys. That's not what puzzles me.

No, what puzzles me is the cartoon.

By way of explaining, let me offer a bit of contrast. We own one Pokemon DVD, and one Bakugan DVD. Both feature kids who carry around tiny balls which, when opened, produce full-size monsters (or aliens, or something along those lines) who then do battle.

Now, coming into the Pokemon movie with no prior context - I think the one we have is Pokemon Heroes - it's pretty clear that the monsters exist in real life, and can be captured and trained. They can apparently be kept (for storage and transportation, I guess) in the little Pokemon balls, but they don't have to be. And when they battle, it takes place in the real world. The monsters have powers, and those powers can be used to affect real people and real things, so it's pretty obvious why people would want them.

Now, with Bakugan I'm getting a lot less of the complete story. We don't own a movie, we own four episodes of Bakugan Battle Brawlers. So I have, if anything, even less context than I do for Pokemon. But in Bakugan, the monsters only manifest their full-size forms during a battle - and the battles only start when the two opponents throw down "gate cards", which create a sort of temporary extra-dimensional battlefield. Beginning a Bakugan battle effectively takes the contestants out of the real world: they can't affect real-world things, and no time passes in the real world while they're battling. In the real world, the monsters are only ever in the form of little, mutant golf-balls. Some of them can talk to their owners, but that's about it. Unlike the Pokemon monsters, Bakugan monsters are apparently pretty useless.

But the cartoon keeps treating these Bakugan contests as if they were vitally important - not just a sort of extradimensional football game, where we want the right team to win, but something where the question of who wins could actually change someone's life. One of the taglines for the show is "One Goal, Two Worlds." And while that sounds all nice and dramatic, I admit I'm at a bit of a loss. What's the goal? Is there something about the Bakugan monsters that could possibly make some sort of difference to the larger world? As far as I can tell, if all the Bakugans disappeared, the worst that would happen is that some people would have to find new hobbies.

So what's the deal? Am I missing something? Or is there really just this huge disconnect in the way the show is set up?

Just imagine...

2012-01-20T14:43:00.000-06:00

I have a radical and subversive theory that I'd like you all to consider. What if... and I know this is going to sound crazy, but... what if Shakespeare actually wrote the plays that are attributed to him?

Right Behind: They Are Legion, Part Six

2012-01-20T08:38:00.003-06:00

The smell of coffee drifted tantalizingly through my room. Maybe that was what woke me up, even. For a time I just lay there, being awake... but, well, not awake enough to actually move.

There was sunlight on the blankets, and on the wall behind me. It was bright enough that I knew I wouldn't be able to go back to sleep. That realization brought me another small step closer to wakefulness, but it was so nice to just lay and drift until I was actually ready to move.

I'd been dreaming about a roller-coaster, I remembered - an improbably massive structure that wound around an entire mountain, and even dipped through tunnels inside. There had been someone... no, that was gone. I couldn't remember anymore. I was too awake.

I sat up at last, cracked my neck, and yawned. My room was the same as always, decorated with posters for a couple of movies and another for the Marine Corps, which I'd briefly considered joining after High School. The bookshelves still held my old favorites, but the computer desk was empty - I'd taken its contents off to college, and left behind an empty shell. I remembered telling my parents that they could do whatever they wanted with my room, but either they hadn't heard me or they'd just decided to leave it alone...

Once things had settled down last night, I'd sent Tina and Mom off to bed and sat down to watch a little television. The news reported looting and other violence. At least some of the violence seemed to be a product of people trying to loot houses and stores that were still occupied. A lot of the rest seemed to be people who were convinced that the world was ending, or just taking advantage of the social disruption. I doubted that the troubles were anywhere near as widespread as the talking heads implied; for one thing, we hadn't seen anything like that around here, and for another the TV news programs had been getting ever more hysterical in their attention-seeking for as long as I could remember. Still, I made a note to go and find a couple of guns in the morning... just in case.

One guy they interviewed said that God had clearly turned His Face from us. Since he knew he was damned, he said, there was no reason not to do all those things that he'd always wanted to do. That was right before the police stuffed him into the back of a patrol car. I found myself reminded, very uncomfortably, of Anna - and I realized that I should call her. Probably not then, though - it was after midnight.

Instead, I'd shut off the television and wandered up to my room. I didn't exactly remember collapsing on the bed, but since I'd woken up there I was prepared to take that part for granted...

Now I paused in the hallway outside the kitchen. I could hear voices inside: Mom and Tina, talking. I stopped where I was, just out of sight. It wasn't a desire to eavesdrop, exactly; it was more that I wanted to know what I was about to walk into. And I wasn't quite awake enough to make conversation myself, so I waited... and listened.

Apocalypse River 003

2012-01-19T08:45:00.006-06:00

This is one of those of those stories that I come back to as the mood takes me, so my progress is infrequent and irregular. The rest of it can be read here, if you want to start at the beginning or just refresh your memory.

The edge of the river was a dangerous place to be. Tammon stayed a few feet back, watching for sudden breaks in the irregular edge that dropped away into the water. He ran half-crouched, trying to keep his profile low. It was probably a wasted effort: movement would make him far more obvious than his height ever would. River to the left, Forsters to the right. I should have stayed in the trees.

He couldn't do that, of course. Not with the village itself in danger. His presence might call attention to the evacuation, but it might also provide the evacuees with a hunter to support them. So he ran, following the edge of the river until he neared the boathouse and the skeletal remains of the docks. He glanced back up at the village, in time to see one of the Forsters lift Old Man Gaston and bring him down across its knee. A flick of his eyes caught another Forster falling from the warning tower. That one smashed into the sandy soil of the flood plain and did not move again.

Nobody seemed to be watching the river; nobody seemed to be looking at him. He paused to catch his breath. Then he sprinted for the boat house. When he reached the corner of the building, he paused; but nobody seemed to have seen him. He gave the battle a fierce grin, called out softly, and ducked inside.

The boats were relics from the old day, preserved by regular care and shelter from the elements. They were made from that rarest of materials: true metal. The boathouses were wooden reliquaries, sealed with whatever seemed to work. Since things began to change, the sealants and roofing materials had become unreliable. Nobody knew what would work, or how long it would last. That was just the nature of things in this changed and changing world.

Shannan was standing just inside the door, with a dagger raised in a fighting position. She would have killed him if he hadn't announced himself. The children were huddled behind one of the boats, which had been taken down and leaned against the wall. It was shelter of a sort, but not enough to keep them truly hidden.

We have to hurry. Tammon slid past Shannan and over to the boat. Belinda, who was Old Man Gaston's daughter and very nearly old enough to remember the world as it had once been, was standing beside it. She studied him warily.

Tammon gripped the edge of the boat and pulled it over until it was right side up. Shannan watched aghast as he edged it carefully into the water, but Belinda was grinning and nodding at him. The coarse hairs on her cheeks flexed with the movement of her head. They watched for a moment, but nothing stirred; nothing reached up to take the boat.

"In," said Tammon softly, gesturing to Shannan.

She shook her head, looking at the water. He looked at the water, saw nothing, and climbed in himself. He had to shift his grip carefully to keep the boat from drifting away, but he managed it.

Belinda was already whispering to the children. One by one, they climbed into the boat. It rocked unsteadily, but it held them and Tammon could see no sign of leakage.

When the last of the children was inside, old Belinda climbed in behind them. It was crowded, now, and the boat was lower in the water than Tammon would have liked, but he gestured for Shannan to join them. She shook her head, still afraid of the river. And rightly so, he thought, but we have no time for that.

A low grumble reached his ears. There were voices outside the boathouse, deep rumbling voices backed by Forster lungs. Shannan raised her head, looking panicked. Then she closed her eyes, and held out a hand.

Tammon pulled her onto the boat.

Her arrival was enough to set them drifting towards the open river. Tammon looked for a way to speed their escape, and saw the old wooden sticks hanging on the walls - oars, he thought they were called - but they were too far to reach and it was too late to go back for them.

Oppose SOPA

2012-01-18T08:25:00.006-06:00

I don't generally talk politics or plug causes around here, mainly because it's bad for my blood pressure. Today, however, I'm making an exception. Everything I'm reading about SOPA (or PIPA, which is basically the Senate version of the same bill) indicates that it is not just misguided, but potentially catastrophic.

To get involved - or just learn more - I'd suggest you check out:

Google
Wikipedia
Making Light (a very nice write-up, here)
Whatever (John Scalzi)
Steve Jackson Games (possibly my favorite - "If you really want to see our site now, click here." Heh. For an interesting bit of history, look up the story of how the first draft of GURPS Cyberpunk, a gaming resource, was seized by the ~~FBI~~ correction: it was the Secret Service.)
Dresden Codak (Cool visual effect.)
Kung Fu Monkey
Schneier On Security
Reddit
This video from FightForTheFuture.org

Also, for the record, How Copyright Industries Con Congress.

And my favorite Tweet so far: "Feel sorry for Congress. Wikipedia blackout affects them the most. Now how will they find out who fought in the American Civil War?" (from @bergopolis)

I'm generally pretty cynical about predictions of doom and gloom, but... that list up there? It's just the tip of the iceberg. An awful lot of knowledgeable people are saying that, yes, this legislation really is every bit as bad as all that. Like, "The end of the Internet as we know it," isn't an exaggeration. That bad.

Please get involved.

Notes from the Mad Science Lab: Self-heating Tea

2012-01-17T09:58:00.000-06:00

Ladies and gentlemen, I'd like to introduce you to my newest invention. Here at the Mad Science Laboratory, we are fully committed to our ongoing efforts to improve your quality of life. So, in the spirit of making cold weather just a little bit easier to endure, I am proud to present my latest effort: self-heating tea.

How many times have you taken your child out to the playground in winter, and found yourself wishing you had a nice cup of steaming-hot tea with you? Or perhaps you were wishing that the cup you'd brought along wasn't already lukewarm, and well along the way to becoming iced tea? Well, I'm proud to say that I have the answer to your woes.

Just insert a bag of self-heating tea into a cup of water. As you can see, my min- erm, my assistant Gregory is using metal tongs and latex gloves to ensure that the moisture from his fingers doesn't activate the effect prematurely. I have assured Gregory that these precautions are unnecessary, but since he keeps muttering about his predecessor, Jim, and the purely coincidental matter of Spontaneous Human Combustion, I have graciously decided to humor him.

There we go. Note the slight bubbling of the water, and now you can see the steam rising... lovely. See how it darkens as the tea steeps? Excellent. Those of you watching remotely will not be able to smell the refreshing aroma, but I assure you it is now permeating the testing chamber.

Self-heating tea will remain hot for nearly four hours, or until it is placed in an environment - such as your stomach - where the ambient temperature consistently exceeds 35.4 degrees Celsius, or 96 degrees Fahrenheit. And the flavor? Gregory, please sample the tea and tell us what you think.

What? You don't want to sample the tea? Gregory, this is a live demonstration before an international audience. Yes, there were some glitches during the testing process, but do you really think I'd let you drink that if there was even the slightest chance of immolation? That's right, go on...

There. You see, ladies and gentlemen? Gregory is fine, and the tea is...? "Tasty and refreshing." Very good, Gregory. Yes, all right, you may go now.

So there you have it. Self-heating tea: one more way in which Mad Science is making life better for everyone.

Weird dreams, even by my standards.

2012-01-16T10:23:00.005-06:00

Okay, so: anybody who's following this blog knows that I have weird dreams. Just peruse the Dreams tag and you'll see what I mean. But Friday night/Saturday morning's dreams set a whole new standard for weirdness.

I mean, okay, the sprawling and elaborate indoor play area - which included both play structures, of the ladders/steps/nets/tunnels/slides variety, and a landscaped floor that also offered opportunities for climbing, sliding, and jumping - was a bit odd. It looked like it might have come out of some sort of video game. But in itself, it wasn't that weird. I mean, my dreams feature strange architecture and odd spacial arrangements often enough. But why would anyone set up a play area where you could capture Bigfoot if you got to the particularly high and inaccessible ledge in the back corner?

(And why was Bigfoot only about three feet tall, despite having these giant feet? Actually, I think I know the answer to that one: Roger Zelazny presented him that way in the story Unicorn Variations, and the image obviously stuck with me.)

After that, as the person who found Bigfoot, I got to go speak to a class at a local school. Only apparently at the same time I was also the main assistant to... wait for it... Charlie Sheen, who was addressing the class (alternately) as an actor and as the President of the United States. Who thought that was a good idea??? (The "letting Charlie Sheen be president" part, or the "letting Charlie Sheen speak to a classroom full of children" part, either one: why? For the love of all that's holy, WHY???)

I swear, they brought him a Sprite and the first thing he did was pull one of those little mini-bottles of rum - you know, the kind you get in hotel rooms, or airplanes - out of the pocket of his coat. While he's pouring it in, he's explaining to the kids how much better the Sprite is this way.

Fortunately, the boys came in and woke me up at that point. I'm really afraid of where the dream might have been going...

Questions To Keep In Mind When Reviewing Scenes

2012-01-14T09:48:00.001-06:00

(Keep in mind, this more of a conceptual list, so if anybody wants to offer additional suggestions, go for it!)

1. What is this scene doing? (i.e. are we establishing character, setting up an interaction, filling in backstory, advancing the action, following up on something that just happened, or what?)

2. Is the scene doing what it’s supposed to be doing?

3. Does it fit with the rest of the story? (This kind of a two-part question, because I want to watch for issues of pacing – am I racing ahead? Is this interrupting the action? – but it also concerns issues of tone: did reading that Stephen King book last night switch me out of the mythic tone I was using and into something more colloquial?)

4. Is she just sitting in the middle of nowhere naked? (Basically, does the scene include enough detail that the reader can picture it clearly and tell what’s happening?)(New, taken from Carrie Spencer’s comment here.)

A final note for Gerie

2012-01-13T12:50:00.002-06:00

Disagreement is a funny thing. It's hard to disagree with someone, especially in an area as profoundly personal as religion, without seeming to attack them (or, you know, actually attacking them). The more important the issue, and the more the people involved are sure that they're right, the harder it gets. But my disagreement with you, Gerie, boils down to basically two points, and I'm going to try to state them as neutrally as possible:

1. I don't think your approach to Christianity is as firmly grounded in the Bible as you think it is.

2. Your representation of other people, especially people who don't share your views, is profoundly flawed. You state things authoritatively that simply are not true, and the way you characterize other people tends to be wildly caricatured where it isn't (as far as I can tell) made up out of whole cloth.

Also, just to make sure we're completely clear: I have no desire to argue that you ought not to believe in God, Jesus, or the Ultimate Truth of the Bible. Everything I've said about why I don't believe in God myself is just that: why I don't believe it myself. I emphasize it because you seem to have some very misguided impressions of how and why someone might not believe as you do - but I do not intend to argue that you shouldn't believe.

As far as my atheism goes, it's not an accusation. It's not, "God does not exist." Instead, it's a question: "Why should I believe that?" I've never found a satisfactory answer, so I remain an unbeliever; but I understand that other people's experiences are different. And that's really about all there is to it.

The Truth of Atheism Told!

2012-01-13T08:42:00.290-06:00

Right, so, this is continuing my response to Gerie over at Exposing The Darkness and Telling The Truth. Her post, Atheist, The Most Tragic Thing About You - Is That You Have Already "Decided", is a veritable case study in misunderstanding. It is, I think, instructive - particularly as an example of how to be completely unpersuasive in spreading the Gospel. So Christians, go thou and do otherwise... please.

When we left Gerie, she was confusing herself with the "least of these" that the Gospel commands Christians to help. From there, she moves to high-grade condescension:

These lost souls ( let's call them what they are, until they believe they are poor lost souls) have decided in their heart to trust in themselves and to rely solely on what they think instead of the words of Jesus Christ, the very Son of God. Who came down from Heaven, who left the presence of God for us. Who just happens to BE Wisdom. All Wisdom and knowledge and understanding comes from Him. He IS God. He knows everything, from the beginning to the end. All things were created FOR HIM and BY HIM.

We, on the other hand, ARE mere HUMAN BEINGS and incomplete in knowledge. We don't have all knowledge like God does. For everything that we DO know or think we understand, there are thousands of things we DON'T know and DON'T understand, to say the least, yet these people, these FOOLISH PEOPLE, and some of them are true Atheists, choose to stake there whole eternal future, on what they can see, feel, hear, taste, touch, smell etc. or think. And that last one (think), by the way - they do with the BRAIN THAT GOD GAVE THEM!

Yet they arrogantly refuse to use it to believe His words? And insist on trusting in their OWN ideas?

Wow. Just... wow.

Pot, meet kettle.

Mote, meet beam.

Glass house? Meet stone.

Here's the thing. Everybody does the best they can with their own judgement. Gerie may claim that following the Bible gives her access to some solid, objective, irrefutable Truth - but she still used her fallible human understanding to decide to follow the Bible. And she still uses her fallible human mind to understand how to follow the Bible.

Gerie is very good at pointing out the limits of other people's understanding; it's a recurrent theme in her writings. But it never seems to occur to her that her own understanding might be equally flawed, albeit in different ways.

And they are SO sure that they're right. I'm amazed at them! How can they be so sure? Because their prayers weren't answered when they were a child? They believe there is no God because their prayers weren't answered 10 or 20 or 30 years ago?

I'm honestly not sure what Gerie's referring to, here. I'm an atheist because I don't see any good reason to think that any sort of gods exist. Part of that is that I've never experienced anything that I might classify as God answering my prayers, true. I'm not a Christian because Christianity doesn't match my understanding of the world - or my experience of the Divine, for that matter. But, okay, fine. Ignore that. Be all contemptuous and dismissive and tell us how we don't believe because God didn't answer our prayers decades ago. That's how Jesus taught, right? He just marched into town and told people How It Was, gave 'em a swift spiritual kick in the bottom.

Or, y'know, not.

For the record: it's quite possible that I might change my mind at some point. Thing is, there would have to be a reason to do so. Just having someone tell me that something is true won't do it, no matter how many times they repeat their claims.

As a result, as far as I'm concerned the entire next section of Gerie's sermon is one long, irrelevant digression:

Do you think that there might be a reason for that? That maybe is going over you're head right now? And mine too? But God knows why, and I know and believe and testify to you, that GOD IS GOOD. If you want to blame Him, then tell me, who in your eyes is good? YOU? You arrogantly think that you can run things better than God? Do you think that He doesn't see the suffering going on? Do you think He doesn't know all about it? If it's this way, then that means, for right now, that it HAS to be this way. He would never have sent His Son to suffer and die, if there had been another way. Can't you give Him the benefit of the doubt, instead of accusing a GOOD GOD?

Whether you want to believe or not, I KNOW THAT GOD IS GOOD AND YOU ARE NOT! How can you be good, if you are still in your sins and are accusing God of botching things up?

Let's take this is a bit at a time. Do I think that there might be one or more gods who exist, but choose for reasons of their own not to answer prayers? Sure, it's possible. It just seems more likely that He, or they, aren't there. Do I blame God for the suffering in the world? No. I don't think He's there. It seems far more likely that there's suffering in the world because the world is the result of impersonal natural processes, than that there's an all-powerful Creator who stands by and lets people get hurt, but is somehow "good" despite this. Shouldn't I give God the benefit of the doubt, instead of accusing him? I can't do either. I can't accuse Him, because I don't think he's there. I can't offer him the benefit of the doubt, for the same reason. If it's this way, then that means, for right now, that it HAS to be this way. Even if that were philosophically defensible, it's irrelevant. The question of how there can be evil if God exists only matters if you have some reason to think that God exists. It's also pure assertion, with nothing concrete to back it up.

Why do they choose to believe that everything is God's fault and that there really is no evil being called Satan, that's doing all of the damage?

Um, what? That's not atheists, that's Christians who believe that sort of thing. Or possibly Gnostics. Again, I know this is hard for you to imagine, but atheists really don't believe that there's anyone - God, Satan, or the entire classical Roman pantheon - running the Big Show.

I'll grant, there is an argument that looks a bit like this. It says, basically, that if God is aware of the evil in the world (omniscient) and able to stop it (omnipotent) and chooses not to do so, then He is complicit in that evil and cannot be omnibenevolent. That's not, however, generally meant as a serious argument that "God must be evil." Rather, it's an explanation for why some people, myself included, find the concept of God {as all-knowing, all-powerful, and perfectly good} to be incompatible with a world in which evil exists. (From that angle, it really doesn't matter whether or not Satan exists, or what his role is.)

If He says that things will happen a certain way, then that's the way they will happen! How do I know that for sure?

Because He said so! That's how!

Again, wow. That's not even circular, it's just rampant assertion: "It's true because it's true because it's true because..."

But, okay, I'll spot Gerie this one: she truly believes this. However wonderful that may be for her, it's completely useless to me.

As for me, I know whom I have believed in and I trust Him with my life. Who do you trust in Atheist? Yourself?

To be honest, I'm not sure I "trust in" anyone, in the somewhat specialized sense in which Gerie seems to be using the phrase. But in a more general sense, I trust in those who have given me a reason to trust them. And it's not an all-or-nothing proposition, that trust. There are kinds and degrees of trust.

Wait till you die, then you will finally see clearly and you'll understand all of the mysteries for yourself. The mystery of why God chose to remain hidden all this time, why He allowed evil to destroy without stopping it,

and why He allowed you to mock Him, dear Atheist, without blasting you right off your chair!

I'd like to just pause for a moment, and admire the sheer magnitude of triumphal hostility contained in that paragraph. Does Gerie have any idea how that sounds? "Someday you'll find out I was right, and then you'll wish you'd listened to me!"

Uh huh. Maybe so. Or maybe I'll die, and cease to exist as any sort of conscious entity. Or maybe I'll die, and the Almighty will tell me just how hilarious it was watching me muddle my way through life without even the sense to realize that He was around. Or maybe I'll die, and Brahma will reincarnate me as a house cat. Cessation of consciousness seems the most likely to me, but I could be wrong.

I also have the Holy Spirit living inside of me who witnesses to me that what I believe about God is the truth.

This is particularly interesting to me, because Gerie said just a few paragraphs earlier that in this age we are to trust in His goodness and WALK BY FAITH. (Emphasis hers.) How much faith do you really need if you've got the Holy Spirit hanging around inside you as a witness of God's existence? Honestly, if I had the Holy Spirit telling me I was right, I'd have a much easier time believing.

Atheists are forced to live their lives all alone inside. Or else the witness that they do have living inside of them is a liar.

So, wait. Gerie says that the witness inside of me is a liar. She knows this, presumably, because the witness inside her says it's true. The witness inside of me thinks that that's exactly the sort of thing that a corruptor spirit would say to someone it was leading astray.

Or, actually, no. There's no witness inside me, and I have no way of checking whether the witness inside of Gerie is good, evil, or non-existent, so this is all completely hypothetical. That means I'm forced to live my life all alone inside. Poor, poor, pitiful me, carrying around this Jesus-shaped hole in my heart... except that I don't have a Jesus-shaped hole in my heart. Or else I'm completely unaware of it, in which case I might as well not have a Jesus-shaped hole in my heart. Whichever, really.

Atheist, is what you believe real enough to you that you are willing to bet your whole life that you're right? Are you willing to die for what you believe?

Depends on how you mean. There are things I value strongly enough to die for; some of them are beliefs.

I have heard some Atheists who act as though they are good and they have no need of a Saviour.
...
Have you ever even considered your speech? The mouth that God created to praise Him you use to spew out obscenities and some of them are even directed at Him! This is sin and a great one, in my opinion. The mocking you do of His word, the mocking of His servants, that all matters and it just won't make much of a difference to your case on Judgement Day, when you are being judged, if you say that you gave every single one of your paychecks to feed the poor. It just won't matter and it won't stop Gods righteous judgement from coming against you.

My goodness. (Pun intended.) God is going to punish people for making fun of His servants - you know, like Gerie. That's a... well, from here it looks like a really nice, if slightly petty, revenge fantasy. "Someday those people who made fun of me will get what's coming to them, and then they'll be sorry."

And where does this obsession with the idea of Salvation By Works come from? Gerie sees it everywhere. She frequently attributes it to people who don't actually believe it. It even creeps into passages like this, where's it's only vaguely relevant. What is up with that?

Gerie can threaten me with Hell all she wants. It doesn't bother me, because I don't see any reason to think that that's the way life - or death - actually works. But if there is a God who will someday pronounce eternal judgement on me, I'm pretty sure that it won't be because I pointed out that Gerie says some silly - and, frankly, unChristian - things.

You are blinded by your own arrogance and you are guilty of fighting against your own soul.

No. No, I'm not. I'm drawing the best conclusions I can from the evidence I have available. I'm not fighting against anything: not my soul; not some secret knowledge that Jesus really, truly exists; not my unwillingness to give up my sins. It doesn't matter at all whether Gerie believes that, or not; or what she says about it. It doesn't change the fact of it.

Repent of your sins and turn to Jesus. He's real! Hes alive! And He has the answers you have been seeking.

If he is real, He can convince me of this in a heartbeat, with no effort at all. (That's what being omnipotent means.) That wouldn't violate my free will; in fact, leaving me in darkness and ignorance seems to limit my ability to choose freely far more than knowledge ever could. Again, I'm not fighting it: I'd love it if Jesus dropped by for a chat. But it doesn't happen.

Everything will make sense to you when His Spirit of truth comes and lives inside of you and opens up your understanding.

And now we're back to that Catch-22 I mentioned earlier. In order to understand, you have to believe; but for me to believe, I have to understand. Since I can't understand, I can't believe, and since I can't believe, I can't understand. There's no way out of that for me. There's simply no way to get there from here.

This would bother me a lot more if I actually thought there was any sort of "there" to get to... but in that case, presumably I'd have more knowledge or better understanding, so I'd probably be more able to believe.

Remember this dear Atheist God loves you, and so do I, very very much.

I don't know about God, but if this is true then Gerie, at least, has a funny way of showing it.

The Darkness of Atheism Exposed!

2012-01-12T09:16:00.044-06:00

I missed this earlier, probably because it went up during the holidays, but back at the end of December Gerie (over at Exposing The Darkness And Telling The Truth) posted another of her interminably long sermons. This one was directed at atheists. It's called, Atheist, The Most Tragic Thing About You - Is That You Have Already "Decided", so you can see right off that Gerie is going to treat this subject with every bit of the sensitivity and careful discernment that it deserves.

A word of warning, here: this is a looooonnnnnnnnng sermon. If you have a compulsive need to read things in their entirety so as to ensure that nothing's being taken out of context, use the links above and see for yourself. But her entry alone is something like 3,500 words - about eight pages in Word, with the fonts all reset to Times New Roman. Reading all the way through it once is more than enough for me, and I'm not going to reproduce any more of it than I need to, here. So there will be things I'll be leaving out.

Oh, and one more word of warning: I don't have a lot of respect for Gerie. For one thing, she doesn't actually interact with the people who disagree with her; her entire communication with anyone she disapproves of is to lecture them from afar via her blog. She keeps the comments turned off on her own blog, and as far as I know she doesn't comment on anyone else's - at least, not anyone who takes issue with her pronouncements. She also has a well-established habit of pretending to understand the people she talks about, while at the same time setting up the most outrageously laughable Straw Man versions of their positions. Her theology and general sense of perspective are also pretty dubious, but honestly I'd probably leave her alone if she didn't keep making these ridiculous assertions about people she clearly doesn't know and doesn't care to understand.

So, with all that in mind, let's begin:

Have you ever been invited to have a conversation with someone who says, "let's sit down and talk about it"?

Gerie may actually be talking about me, here. I invited her to join the comments on an earlier thread over at Former Conservative's Blog - twice, I think. So did one of the other commenters. So it's entirely possible that this is her response.

And you find out later that their real, hidden reason for asking you to join them, was not to sincerely examine truth, but for the purpose of trapping you in your words? You may have entered the conversation with good intentions but the other one has invited you into his domain, and has in effect lured you in, so to speak, so that he can pick your words apart, for the purpose of discrediting you and to try his best to make you look foolish.

By extension, this is her reason for not joining the conversation: clearly we're not planning to converse in good faith. It's a trap! And since we're really secretly out to get her, Gerie is absolved of any need to make the effort and attempt to converse.

Which is just... Okay, it's not entirely wrong. Like I said, I really don't have a lot of respect for Gerie. And I have made fun of some of the things she's written, and I probably will again. In this post, as a matter of fact.

But I'm not out to trap her, or make her look foolish. As far as I'm concerned, she can manage that quite well without my help - and, for the record, it's not her faith that does it, but this curious insistence that she alone Knows How Things Are.

No, I'd like to talk to her because that's how people actually communicate. Writing an eight-page sermon about them may be satisfying, but it isn't a conversation. Instead, it lets Gerie keep a safe distance, where any criticism occurs elsewhere and she doesn't have to acknowledge it; and it lets her preserve this artificial relationship where she gets to play the authority and tell people what is True.

I don't know, maybe Gerie thinks that's the most effective way to communicate. To me it looks arrogant, condescending, and possibly cowardly as well. It lets her preserve her misconceptions by insulating them from direct feedback. So, once again, I'll extend the invitation: comments on my blog are completely open. Drop on by. Talk. I won't promise to agree, but I do promise to listen.

And for everyone else: if by some wild chance Gerie does decide to comment, I expect you all to behave. Be polite, keep your disagreements to specific ideas, and don't pile on - nobody can respond to a dozen people at once.

Right, back to the sermon:

"Let's all come together and talk about it and try to understand each other," they say. But if you take them up on their offer you will find, that their heart has already been firmly set against you and also against the God that you love and are representing.

They cannot hear the truth you speak, they have already decided they won't.

Ah, Gerie. It's a bit more complicated than that. Again, you're partly right: if you're going to explain the Truth Of Christianity to me, I'm not going to immediately agree just because you said it was so. But my disagreement isn't a refusal to hear the truth; looking for the truth is precisely the reason that I'm not a Christian. Try as I might, look how I will, I can't make sense of Christianity. It doesn't speak to me; it doesn't resonate for me.

Did you know they lured Jesus into conversations too? Conversations that many times became violent. One time they tried to push Him off the cliff!

This section is followed by a series of accounts of people who were attacked or persecuted for sharing the Truth of Christianity, which culminates in this:

If they hated Jesus (which they did) then they will hate us too.
They killed Jesus for what He said. They killed Stephen, Paul, the Apostles for what they said. Today they are killing Christians overseas and if they could get away with it, they would do that here too, or at least lock us up.

Heh. Okay, this is the part where, yeah, I'm going to make fun of Gerie's persecution complex. Because, yes, there are Christians in other countries who are genuinely persecuted, and whose beliefs put them in danger of their lives. Gerie, by contrast, doesn't face any such danger. As far as I can tell, she lives in a part of the world where... well, let's face it: Westboro Baptist Church is free to spew their hatred, with their right to do so protected by the Constitution and the force of law. And whether their beliefs are right or wrong, they are vastly more offensive than Gerie's beliefs.

On that scale, Gerie doesn't rate. Westboro has her beat by several orders of magnitude. So claiming that (in some nebulous fashion) she shares the danger of people who are genuinely being persecuted is nothing more than silly self-aggrandizement. Here in the West, it's the Christians who do the persecuting. (Don't believe me? Ask the next Muslim you meet about how their faith affects their job opportunities, general treatment, and ability to feel safe in public.)

True fact: I wouldn't kill Gerie if the State was offering a bounty for her head. (Strangely, despite my lack of Christian faith, I consider that sort of thing immoral. Shocking, I know.) In fact, I'd help her to hide. I don't bear her any particular malice, and while I might point and laugh at her writings, I don't find her "truth" at all threatening... mainly because I don't find it at all convincing.

Anyway... I'm going to skip the next bit, where Gerie bears false witness against her fellow Christians, and move on to this:

Sometimes while I'm listening to Atheists and God rejectors spewing their stuff on TV or radio shows, or even while reading their comments, I wonder why they just can't ever seem to get it! It is SO clear! It's not hard to understand, really.

Why can't they know and understand truth the way that we do? And then I realised something, and it is major - They have already DECIDED!

This is the sort of statement that makes me wonder what color the sky is in Gerie's world. Because that isn't my experience, and that wasn't the experience of anybody I know. It's not even close. Most of the non-Christians I know, including myself, are also ex-Christians. And none of them made anything that might be called a "decision" not to believe in God. A good many of them reached that conclusion against their every hope, desire, and prayer. For most it was a painful, confusing process. But hey, if you can skate past that and write it off as a "decision," you go for it. Just don't expect non-believers to take you seriously: for all practical purposes, you've told non-believers that you don't have any idea what happened to them, and don't have any desire to find out.

Why can't we just get it? Because it doesn't make any sense. The basics of Christianity are simple and obvious - every bit as simple and obvious as you think they are. God loves us all, and he loves us so much that he sent his only son to die in our place and take away the weight of our sins. Got it.

What isn't clear to me is why I should believe that. You're convinced because the Holy Spirit is prowling around in your brain, and that's great - but it doesn't help me.

The basic claims of Christianity are relatively simple. The truth of those claims is not as obvious to everyone else as it is to you.

With arms crossed in front of them they refuse to believe. Rather, they have decided to mock His followers, which is in truth mocking Him. Because it is written, that as much as they have done it unto us (believers and followers of Jesus) they have done it unto Him. That idea works for giving a disciple a cup of cold water as well as for mocking one of the least of His disciples, which we are. Think about it...

(Mathrew 25:45)Jesus said,
Inasmuch as ye did it not to one of the least of these, ye did it not to me.

And here we get to the trainwreck that is Gerie's theology. The "least of these" that Matthew 25:45 refers to isn't Christians; it's the hungry, the thirsty, the homeless, the sick, and the imprisoned. Read the whole thing. But taking care of these "least of these" seems to run counter to Gerie's view of the Gospel, in which one is saved By Faith Alone to such an extent that even the concept that "faith without works is dead" becomes foreign.

And just to make it perfectly clear: much as Gerie might like to conflate the two, I'm not making fun of Jesus when I make fun of her. I don't make fun of Jesus for much the same reasons that I don't make fun of Santa Claus. No, I am pointedly and specifically making fun of Gerie - and her alone.

...And I'm going to cut this off here. I'm about halfway through Gerie's post, and I'd hoped to skip past more of it, but there's still a lot coming up that deserves a response. So I'll tackle the next bit in a day or so.

Right Behind: They Are Legion, Part Five

2012-01-11T08:50:00.002-06:00

I told myself a story, about a young man who took an unexpected turn and found a strange set of ruins, where some evil genius had hidden away the world's children and covered his tracks by taking a few of the adults. In this story, the young man found his way into the hidden laboratory, and happened upon a death ray, and destroyed the evil genius and freed the children.

Then I told myself another story, about a young man who woke up imprisoned on a spaceship. He tricked his captors, took control of their weapons, and brought the abducted children - and the others, his own father among them - back to Earth.

That got me as far as Memphis. On the way to Little Rock, I told myself a story about a young man who came home to his father's funeral, and found that he'd inherited a book and a sword: the book to explain what had happened and what was coming, and the sword to fight against it. The Demon Lord commanded powerful forces, but in the end human stubbornness prevailed. With the Demon Lord vanquished, the ties between our worlds were severed - but the dead were still dead, and the missing, missing.

They were vague and grandiose fantasies, though I took some pleasure in filling in the little details: how the ruins look, why the villain had bothered with a death ray, how the aliens differed from humans... It was comforting, to imagine a world where good would triumph and evil would be defeated. It pleasant to think that, with the right combination of wit and insight, things might still be set right. And it was, ultimately, just a fantasy. I knew that, but I indulged it anyway.

I stopped in Little Rock to eat. I don't remember what I ordered. I don't remember my waiter. I don't actually remember eating the food, but I must have done so. I have a vague memory of latching my seatbelt on the way back out of the parking lot. Presumably someone would have stopped me if I'd forgotten to pay...

Mom called me just as I was leaving Little Rock. I pulled over to answer the phone, then assured her that I was fine and still on my way. She said she was glad that I was coming home, and I told her I was, too. And when she was done, I put the phone on the seat and got back on the highway.

It was starting to get dark, and I was tired. But I thought about it, and decided that I'd continue on; I wasn't too tired to drive. (This may not have been the wisest decision I've ever made.) So I drove, keeping the Jeep in its lane and watching the mile markers go past, and eventually I hit Texarkana. An impossibly long time after that, I drove into my parents' house in Grapevine.

By then I'd gotten my second wind, which was a good thing: Mom and Tina were still awake, waiting up for me. I barely made it in the door before they they were holding me. I was worn out from the drive, and maybe still in shock, so all I could do was wait through their tears and their relief, and assure them that I was glad to see them, too.

It was the worst homecoming I ever had.

Not much to say... (Open Thread)

2012-01-10T10:07:00.000-06:00

Weekend trip left me worn out and a little sick. Better now, but we're up to our eyeballs in projects at work. Regular blogging will resume tomorrow, probably with the next installment of They Are Legion.

Consider this an open thread. Suggested topic: What's your favorite method/model of time travel? Books, TV, movies, and comics are all valid sources.

Amateur Escape Artist At Work

2012-01-07T23:44:00.000-06:00

So we've driven to Houston for a wedding this weekend. (One of my wife's cousins is getting married.) We got in Friday night, and attended the rehearsal dinner. Then we came home and slept.

Despite getting quite a bit of sleep, I found myself completely worn out after lunch today. So I went into one of the rooms where we're staying, stretched out on the bed, and napped. And somewhere in there, the Beautiful Wife brought Secondborn in and put him in his pack'n'play for his nap. Secondborn hates napping, so naturally he screamed, a lot. And after a while he quit screaming, so I assumed that he was napping, too. (I wasn't actually in a position to check, as that would have required opening my eyes, and possibly rolling over.)

A while after that, the Beautiful Wife opened the door again and said, "I need you to move to another bed. I have to put Secondborn down for his nap."

I cracked an eyelid and said, "He's not in here?"

She said: "You didn't take him out?"

It turns out that Secondborn had, well, escaped. Not only had he gotten out of his pack'n'play, but he'd gone out into the main area and closed the door behind himself to cover his trail. So my wife thought that I'd taken the screaming child, plopped him outside the room for them to deal with, and gone back to sleep. I thought he'd quieted down because he was asleep.

And sure enough, when we put him back in the pack'n'play and asked him to show us how he could climb out, he did. He swung a leg up and hooked his ankle over the top of the wall. Then he used that to lever himself up until he was on top, and then he lowered himself back down on the outside.

Life as we know it is essentially over.

Right Behind: They Are Legion, Part Four

2012-01-06T09:45:00.011-06:00

There really wasn't much left to do. I'd put most of my stuff in storage before Anna and I went camping, and it took very little time to load the last few bags and boxes into the Jeep. It would have been nice to stop and eat, but I didn't want to keep my family, and Mom in particular, waiting any longer than necessary. I could find a drive-through on the way...

I called again when I was on the road. I didn't stay on the phone for long; I didn't like talking while I was driving, and this seemed like a good time to stay alert. I just told them that I'd left, and when I'd call next. Tina told me to be careful, which was advice I didn't need.

The trip was remarkably uneventful, though. I mean, the end of the world is supposed to involve massive chaos, right? The highways should be littered with wrecks, city streets should be full of rioters or looters or partiers, and bands of cold-eyed survivors should be retreating to the wilderness with canned food and extra ammunition. Instead, I got... nothing. If anything, traffic was lighter than usual. But the roads were neither empty nor blocked with wrecked and abandoned vehicles.

From Sewanee, Tennessee to Grapevine, Texas is about thirteen hours by car. Call it fourteen, since you'll want to make stops for gas, food, and sanity. The easiest route goes up to Nashville, then swings down through Memphis, Little Rock, and Texarkana. I found an eighteen-wheeler doing a respectable speed on the highway, and settled in behind him. Eventually, he turned off, and I found another. Their presence was reassuring: it meant that an awful lot of our economy was probably still in place. I didn't need to be spot-welding weapons-mounts to the outside of the Jeep just yet.

I left the radio off. For a while I tried listening to one of my playlists, but it clashed with my mood and after a while I shut it off. So there I was, following the big trucks, driving in silence.

And realizing that my father was dead.

It didn't seem real. I couldn't make it real. Dad was a vibrant, living figure - he couldn't be dead. Not dead dead. He was still fixing up that old Karmann Ghia, for fuck's sake. No way he could die before he had it working again. It just wasn't possible.

I could imagine a world without my father in it, sort of, abstractly. I mean, I'd been in college in another state for three years, now. Yeah, I came home for summers and holidays, but holiday visits were just visits, and summers were always a shock. My parents were trying to figure out how to handle a kid who was basically out on his own, and I was trying to adjust to having parents again. So the idea of not seeing my dad wasn't all that strange. I spent a lot of my time not seeing him.

The idea that he wasn't out there, anymore... that it wasn't just that I wasn't seeing him, it was that he was really gone... That was something else altogether. I couldn't process it.

And after a while I gave up trying. I thought about Anna for a little bit, and realized that I should call her... and then realized that I wasn't sure if I wanted to. We balanced each other in some important ways, but her insistence that the disappearances had been The Rapture... and that we'd missed it... was strange and unwelcome. It made me realize that maybe I didn't know her as well as I'd thought I had. That maybe we weren't as... connected... as we'd thought we were.

But that was something else I wasn't ready to deal with. So I left it alone and kept driving, losing myself in the simple act of keeping the car on course. I wasn't thinking so much as waiting, letting my brain absorb the new information and giving it time to adapt, to formulate new responses.

My Refrigerator Door was covered

2012-01-05T08:37:00.000-06:00

So, school is back in session. Yesterday this came home in Firstborn's backpack:

If you could be any animal, what would be and why? Draw a picture of yourself as that animal.

Can you guess what that's a picture of?

Here's what he had to say on the back of the page:

"I am a wombat that runs vare [that's meant to be very] fast."

So how about the rest of you? What animal would you be, and why?

Conan the Gozerian

2012-01-03T22:59:00.004-06:00

Because Scalzi's wish is my shamelessly-stolen-story-idea...

Wind stirred in the nighted trees and stirred the high grasses to life. Above, the wispy clouds drifted past a gibbous moon, which spilled its silver light across a half-ruined structure of stone.

Conan paused in the shadow of a tree and surveyed the ancient building. It had once been a smooth dome, its stones perhaps clad in beaten copper; faint gleams of metal were still visible in places, and the stones below them were stained with something that looked green enough - though it was hard to tell in the moonlight. A ring of pillars had surrounded it, statues atop them, but now only a handful remained; the others had toppled with the inexorable passage of time. The great central dome, a hundred paces across and nearly that high, was cracked. Off towards the back, a part of it had fallen in.

Conan thought the place had once been a temple. It looked ill-suited for anything else. The thought stirred a faint uneasiness in his barbarian soul, for he knew well the dangers that might lurk in such forgotten shrines. Still, it would have to do. The remains of his Kozaki lay strewn on the battlefield less than half a mile behind him, and there was a sizable reward for Conan's head: the Duke's men were still beating the bushes in search of him. With any real cover, he could elude them; but the trees were growing sparse here, giving way to flat grasslands. His mounted pursuers would quickly ride down a man on foot.

They might hesitate to enter a place such as this, though. And if they did, well... the only passage looked narrow enough that he could stand off a small group of men from inside it. Thus decided, he did not linger. Quick and graceful as a panther, he strode through the grasses, listening for the sounds of his pursuers as he went.

When the high grasses gave way to broken, uneven paving stone, he sprinted for the dark rectangle of the doorway. A moment later he was inside, and he stopped there, looking back. Finally, satisfied that there was no pursuit, he stalked further into the darkness, keeping one hand on the wall and the other extended in front of him. He heard no sounds save his own soft steps, smelled nothing but ancient, dusty stone. Nothing lived here, and nothing came here. The shattered temple was uninhabited, desolate, and would serve his purposes admirably.

Then a section of floor gave way beneath his feet, and he felt himself falling.

* * *

There was light when he looked up. It filled the room, soft and white, little brighter than the moonlight he had left outside. He could not see its source. It seemed to come from everywhere, perhaps from the air itself. But it was enough to let him see, and he raised himself from the floor and checked his body for injuries. Despite the added weight of his chainmail shirt, he had suffered nothing worse than bruises.

The room was wide and circular. No doorways were immediately evident. Conan had fallen near to one wall, so perhaps the way out was blocked by the ornate dias and the crude stone altar that filled the center of the room.

Conan began to walk, following the wall. The hairs on his nape were prickling; he did not like that altar. It was only a lump of rough stone, but it was set atop steps carved smooth and even, steps decorated with half-recognizable symbols and strange reliefs. The contrast gave the altar itself an impression of inhuman antiquity, as if the sculptors and masons who had shaped this place had not dared even to touch that one stone.

A pair of stone statues flanked the altar. They were animals, a matched pair, but no animal that Conan knew. They seemed some strange cross between a dog and bull, low-built with wide shoulders, and forward-curving horns on their heads. Such beasts had no place in the world Conan knew, and he wondered if they were fanciful - or if the hands that carved them had been guided by eyes which had once looked upon such things.

His gaze fell on the altar again, and this time a shadowy figure might have been standing behind it. Conan froze, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword, as a horrible, atonal, screeching voice filled the room. "You have come at last, sub-creature," it said. "Choose. Choose and perish."

"Choose?" asked Conan. The voice roused in him all the ancient fears of his people, but also a sort of atavistic defiance.

"Choose the form of the Destroyer. Speak your fear and give shape to the Gozerian."

"Bah," snarled Conan, and drew his sword. "I am Cimmerian! I fear not pain or death, neither man nor ghost nor demon! Bring your destroyer, and if he can fall to steel I'll send him back to Hell."

There was a momentary pause, and then the awful voice spoke again. "The choice is made. The Traveler has come."

And from behind the altar stepped... Conan.

On the floor below, Conan grunted in surprise. This reflection was perfect, from the mane of black hair to the battered chain mail shirt, from the torn breeches and leather boots to the sword at its side. Only the eyes were strange, and when Conan met them he was nearly undone. There was a great, sucking sense of vertigo, as if he were being drawn into a whirlpool, and a profound sense of being pulled into something unclean. He forced his gaze away by an effort of will, and found that his reflection had a blade out and had nearly closed the distance between them.

Furious, Conan sprang at his opponent. Steel rang on steel as Cimmerian battled Gozerian. Only the unerring instinct of the barbarian allowed Conan to survive those first few moments, for his twin moved at a pace no mortal man could match. He felt more than saw his opponent's blade as it flashed past his face, and cut up behind it. Backed by Conan's steely-thews and wolf-quick reflexes, the tip of his blade brushed the top of his opponent's hand...

...And Conan felt his own thumb begin to bleed. He backed away, and saw that his opponent was untouched. Understand flashed through him like lightning.

Whoever had summoned this destroyer here had called it from across unimaginable gulfs of time and space, from places strange and alien to this world. And in whatever ancient epoch that was done, the summoner had departed without completing his conjuration. To work its evil in this world, the blasphemous thing needed an earthly form... and in taking Conan's form, the Gozerian had not only bound itself to the Earth, but to Conan's form as well. It had forged a connection between them, and that connection was both its strength and its weakness.

Conan considered none of this. He saw, he understood, and he acted. A tigerish spring carried him momentarily out of the Gozerian's reach, and before it could close with him again he turned his point and rammed it into his own heart. The blow which had unhorsed him in the day's earlier battle had split his mail there, and the blade barely slowed as he drove it home.

Only it was not the Cimmerian who reeled back, wounded and dying, with blood pulsing from a gaping wound in his breast. Conan's flesh was untouched, despite the force of his thrust. The tip of his blade rested lightly against his skin, while his opponent stumbled, gasped, and fell.

"So," said Conan. He extended his arm, and with the back of the blade delivered a powerful blow to his own neck.

A moment later he exhaled, in a powerful mixture of relief and awe, as the head of Conan the Gozerian rolled away across the floor.

The altar cracked, and a powerful tremor shook the temple. The pale light dimmed, then came back. One of the beast-statues fell with a terrific crash, losing an arm and one horn as it plowed down the steps.

Conan continued his original course, following the wall and staying well clear of that ancient and blasphemous altar. There was indeed a door on the far side, and he sprinted for it, unsure if the entire building was about to come down around him. The light from the altar room was just enough to reveal the bottom-most step of a staircase, leading up.

* * *

In the morning, Conan departed the temple. From the outside, it seemed only a little more ruined than it had been, but the Duke's men must have been close when it happened: he found traces of their steps near the entrance, and with a little work could see how they had paused, staggered, and then turned and fled back to their master. Realizing this, Conan gave voice to a low, throaty chuckle. He had a blade at his side, and a bit of dried meat in a pouch on his belt. What more did he need? He would continue on his way, perhaps take work with a mercenary company, and see what might come next. He was alive, and had a fighting chance; he asked for nothing more from life...

...Though a flask of wine would have been welcome.

Random Joke

2012-01-03T16:51:00.002-06:00

Firstborn told me this one. He said he got it from a movie they'd watched at school.

Q. What do you get if you cross a chicken with an octopus?
A. Enough drumsticks for a family dinner!

Update on my Mom

2012-01-03T14:07:00.000-06:00

So here's what we have right now:

It does appear to have been a (very minor, localized) stroke. At this point, hearing in her right ear seems to be returning, though the right-side facial slackness remains. There's supposed to a sort of "team meeting" with my parents and the doctor(s) in a while, so there may be more details to come, but it looks like the crisis-y part of this is over.

Also, yay for modern medicine! And thanks again to everyone who offered advice, information, and/or prayers and vibes.

Right Behind: They Are Legion, Part Three

2012-01-03T08:34:00.002-06:00

My mom answered on the second ring. I'd been considering what she most needed to hear, so when she said, "Hello," I said:

"Mom, it's James. I'm still here. I'm fine."

There was a brief, choked sob, and then a moment of silence. I said, "Hello?" but nobody answered.

I tried again: "Hello?"

Then I heard my sister's voice: "James?"

I said, "Yes... are you guys all right?"

"Jesus," said Tina, "We thought you were dead, too. Why didn't you call us?"

Something cold and tight curled in from my shoulders and settled in my guts. "I was camping. There's no reception. What do you mean, you thought I was dead, too?"

There was a long pause. Then Tina said, "It's Dad." She hesitated, but I didn't say anything. I couldn't. "There was an accident. The driver beside him disappeared. The car drifted into his lane, pushed him off the road. He's... dead."

You hear that, Anna? I thought. It's not the Rapture. Because if that was the Rapture, your God just murdered my dad.

There was sound of fumbling, and then my mom was speaking into the phone. "James? James, honey? You have to come home. You should be with your family."

"I'm on my way," I told her. "I'll call you when I'm on the road. I love you."

"I love you," said Mom, and cut off the call.

Help from the Hive Mind: weird medical question

2012-01-01T14:27:00.000-06:00

I need thoughts, ideas, and relevant personal experiences.

Apparently my mom woke up yesterday morning in pretty bad shape. The primary symptoms seemed to be a profound sense of vertigo, and high-grade nausea (probably as a result of the vertigo). In addition, she can't hear out of her right ear at all. My dad called their doctor (who seems perfectly competent, as far as I can tell), and told him about the symptoms, and he prescribed some medication which seems to be helping with the dizziness (and hence the nausea).

So, you know, so far, so good.

Upon coming over to visit today, I found that the right side of my mom's face is... slack. I hadn't been expecting that, and immediately wondered if she'd had a stroke. On further inspection, I don't think so - but I'm not a medical professional, I only know what I read. And this is sufficiently disturbing that I'd like to get some input from you guys.

Here's the information I'm working with:
1. The side of her face isn't numb, it's just slack. This effect seems to extend from up around the right eye, down to the chin; it's giving her trouble drinking water, rather as if she'd just come home from getting a filling at the dentist's office. (She hasn't.)

2. Part of that area, maybe most of it, seems to be oddly swollen. Now, her lower lip has been swollen for a couple of weeks - nobody seems to be sure why. Anti-chapping balm has cured some surface chapping but not affected the swelling at all. This new, wider area of swelling appears to extend from the lip, across the cheek, and up to the cheekbone; it's particularly obvious where it reaches the bottom of the cheekbone.

3. Yesterday's medication (apparently some sort of next-generation dramamine equivalent) has resolved most of the vertigo, and that seems to have cured the nausea as well. She can eat and drink, and keep her food down.

4. She still can't hear out of her right ear, but her right eye seems to be working fine: she has full binocular focus, and as far as I can tell no drifting of the eye or delay in response time, or anything like that.

5. She is oriented as to place, time, and events; she has a very slight slur (about what you'd expect when one side of your mouth was numb) but is otherwise perfectly capable of speaking clearly. She also has no trouble understanding, following conversations, responding appropriately, etc.

6. Her doctor seems to think it's a blockage in the Eustachian tube. He's apparently trying to get it to drain.

7. My mom is post-polio, and cannot move her legs. She normally walks with crutches and braces. This is probably irrelevant here, but might be worth mentioning.

Here's my current hypothesis:
I don't think this is the aftermath of a stroke. It's possible, but I don't think that's what's going on. But I'm not a medical professional, so what do I know?

I think this may actually be the result of a bacterial infection. Mom's lower lip has been swollen for two weeks, now. I'm thinking that maybe the infection has spread, causing more swelling, which is currently squeezing off the Eustachian tube (and possibly part of the nerves in the face) and thus causing the more obvious symptoms.

So here are my questions:
1. Does that hypothesis seem at all possible?
2. Are there any other possibilties that I'm missing? If so, how likely are they?
3. Have you ever run into anything like this before? If so, what fixed it? (If we can clear the whole thing up by, say, having her down a glass of lemon juice, I'd love to know about it.)
4. Any other thoughts or ideas you'd care to contribute?

Cross-posted on the ULMB

Curse you, Mowgli!

2011-12-30T11:12:00.001-06:00

Some guys have all the luck.

Okay, maybe "luck" isn't the right word to apply to people like us, who lost their parents to animal attacks or fires (in my case, both). But still... Mowgli. Do you know what that guy earns in a year? His Learn To Hunt Like A Wolf seminars are enough to keep him comfortably well off all by themselves, but then he has the books, and those speaking engagements... It's maddening, I tell you. They treat him like he was the only orphan in the world to be raised by animals in the wilderness.

Let me tell you a little secret: he's not. Not even close.

Hi, my name is Diana, and I was raised by animals in the wilderness. There, I said it. And you know what? I'd be happy to share my secrets with you, for a tiny fraction of what Mowgli charges. I'd be thrilled if I could find a publisher for my autobiography. Speaking engagements? Ha! I'd settle for an interview in the local paper!

But, no. It's always Mowgli, Mowgli, Mowgli. Mowgli was raised by wolves. Mowgli was befriended by a panther, Mowgli was taught the Law of the Jungle by a bear, Mowgli killed a tiger and got the animals to trample an entire village in order to save his adopted parents. Well, good for him.

I can teach you how to survive in the wilderness. I can show you where to find food, and how to dig a nice burrow for the winter. I can help you get back to nature. But nobody wants to hear it from me. Why? Because I wasn't abandoned in the jungles of India, and growing up in the Enchanted Rock State Natural Area just doesn't have the cachet. Because being raised by squirrels just isn't as cool as being raised by wolves. Because everybody wants to hear about the Law of the Jungle, but nobody cares at all about the Wisdom of the Ducks. While Mowgli was running around learning how to stare down his brother wolves, I was learning how to crack walnuts with my teeth... but does anybody want to hear about that? Not hardly. Oh, sure Mowgli took down Shere Khan the tiger, but did he ever have to face down an angry armadillo? I don't think so.

But he's out there being famous and living it up, while I have to make ends meet by stocking shelves at Wal-Mart and waiting tables at the local truck stop. It's just not fair.

Some guys gave all the luck.

Right Behind: a brief explanation

2011-12-29T21:21:00.001-06:00

It occurs to me that not all of my readers will recognize the "Right Behind" tag on the current story, so let me take a moment to explain.

A while back, I got interested in Fred Clark's deconstruction of the Left Behind books (and films). These are really awful books, both theologically and stylistically; but they're awful in some rather instructive ways, and Fred Clark has a real knack for pointing up where they go wrong and how they could have gone right (or at least, closer to right).

Now, not everyone responds to stories with commentary; some of us respond with stories of our own. And that, basically, is the origin of the Right Behind blog (also available from my sidebar): some of Fred's commenters set out to see if they could write better version of the scenes in the Left Behind books, or to experiment with alternate apocalyptic scenarios, or to head off into other, related bits of fiction. And having written these things, it seemed like a good idea to have some sort of repository for them, so they didn't get lost in the comment threads. And that, as I understand it, is how Right Behind was born.

They Are Legion is a Right Behind story. (I've requested access to the Right Behind blog, to post it there as well, but meanwhile I'm also posting it here.) So that's what's going on here.

Right Behind: They Are Legion Part Two

2011-12-29T09:34:00.000-06:00

A park ranger picked us up not five minutes after we got back to my Jeep. We'd left the parking area beside the trail head, but we hadn't even made it back to the main road. He filled us in a little - told us that there had been mass disappearances, world-wide, and that nobody was sure what had really happened - but mainly he took down our names, addresses, and family information. He said he was going to radio it in, so someone could put it in the big national database that everyone was using to search for missing family. It was something that FEMA had come up with, apparently.

The radio wasn't much help. Everyone broadcasting assumed that everyone else knew as much as they did. They didn't give us any new information about what had happened, and we didn't understand the significance of what they did have to say. It wasn't until we got back to campus and found my roommate, Andrew, that we could get any real information about what had happened while we were away.

And that was when Anna realized - or decided - that we'd been left behind. The Rapture, she said, had come. Jesus had claimed His own, taking them directly to Heaven to avoid the judgements that were about to be poured out upon the Earth.

And I, in my usual I'm-withholding-judgement-until-I-get-more-and-better-information way, said: "That doesn't seem very likely."

It didn't occur to me until much later that Anna would see that as a slap at her beliefs, or that she considered those beliefs so personal that rejecting them was rejecting her. She just went very still, the way she does when she's angry but doesn't want to show it, and then she told me that she was going to find her parents, and that Andrew and I should do the same.

And then she left. It seemed a little abrupt, but I didn’t think much about it at the time. We’d just found out about a disaster, she needed to check on her family, and we’d been together all weekend; of course she’d want to get going. I wanted to get going, too.

So I went back to my room, and picked up my cell phone, and called home. And what I learned then made me forget all about what Anna and I had said to each other.

Christmas Lessons

2011-12-28T06:31:00.001-06:00

Christmas this year was something of a benchmark. (And, actually, it's not over yet - we'll be getting together with my side of the family this weekend.) So what's the big deal? Well, Secondborn (1.6 yrs) is finally old enough to get presents that Firstborn (5.5 yrs) finds interesting. This has created an interesting new dynamic in our unwrapping and subsequent playing with the toys.

Fortunately, it wasn't a huge crisis. The boys are pretty good about sharing, and were even able to play together... or at least side by side with the same set of toys. Firstborn, however, kept trying to claim a selection of Secondborn's toys, which meant that we kept having to reiterate that those toys, in fact, belonged to his brother.

Which brings me back to the topic of this post...

Lessons I have learned from Christmas 2011:

We require a Balance of Toys. That's not to say that the two boys must get exactly the same presents, just that they must be comparable enough that nobody feels left out. We knew we were going to have to do this eventually, but apparently we're already there.
Shared Resources must occupy Neutral Ground. Firstborn is old enough to think of his room as his own space. He's allowed to close the gate and keep his younger brother out. This is fine, except that if he borrows one of his brother's toys and takes it into his room... You see where this is going, right? So toys that are being shared should be played with in the living room.
Marketing doesn't end when you buy the product. Firstborn won't let us throw away all the packaging. He likes pressing his toys back into the molded plastic packages, usually to indicate that they've been put in jail or frozen in ice. He wants to keep the back of the Imaginext packages, which show entire landscapes of toys. Throwing away the packaging is Not Acceptable, which makes it very hard to clean up after the toys have been opened.
Gratitude is not instinctive. Firstborn has a habit of speaking his mind. We generally encourage this, but it can create some problems... as, for example, when his Nana gives him a special pair of Christmas pajamas on Christmas Eve, and he immediately announces - loudly - that he hates them and will not wear them. (I'm pretty sure he was hoping for a toy, and was just disappointed. We were able to coax him into going and giving his Nana a hug, and telling her that he loved her; and he didn't object at all when I put the PJs on him at bedtime.) We're, um, we're going to be doing some extra work on when and why we use "Thank you" to be polite.
I cannot eat that much food. I don't care how good it looks or what time of year this is, if the total amount of food on my plate exceeds my own body mass, then I will not be able to finish it.
Sleep is not optional. We had a couple of friends over while they were in town, and it was great. We haven't had that much fun, or that kind of social fun at all, in a long time. (We basically just sat around the kitchen table, talking and laughing, after the boys had gone to bed.) And because we were enjoying ourselves, we stayed up late. Because we stayed up late, we were tired. Back when we were younger, and didn't have kids, that was no big deal. Now, it's a serious issue that we have to make major allowances for. (It was still completely worth it, though!)

All in all, Christmas has gone very well. If you want to see pictures, join us below the cut:

The Great Gingerbread House Construction of 2011 (Firstborn):

Secondborn helps with the construction (or, well, eats the building materials):

Boys, tired, in their Christmas outfits:

Boys opening presents at their Nana's house (the toys in the background aren't for Christmas; they've been moved back there to make room for the tree):

Toys successfully extracted from bags:

In addition to the Great Gingerbread House Building Project, there was also a Christmas Eve service - where, alas, I did not take any pictures. But Firstborn got to hold a candle, and the Beautiful Woman took Secondborn outside so he could rampage in the foyer without disturbing the service. We're claiming a victory on that one, too.

And that was our Christmas so far.

Right Behind: They Are Legion Part One

2011-12-27T07:58:00.002-06:00

What if the Rapture came, and you missed it?

I'm not talking about being "left behind." That's all of us, everyone who's left on Earth. All the people who looked around and realized that their children were gone, all the people who looked up and realized that the car beside them suddenly had no driver, all the people who came home to empty beds or empty houses or empty neighborhoods.

But there were some of us who missed the whole thing. I, for example, had taken a couple of days off after Finals to go camping with my girlfriend. Two college students all alone in the woods at the end of their Junior year: you can imagine what all we we were doing. Maybe that's why we got left behind. Maybe, and maybe not.

Anna, you see, is very bright in her way. She can grasp complex ideas, do equations in her head, and memorize things in ways that I can't even begin to match. Unfortunately, she tends to take any idea she's given, and run with it. I'm smart in other ways; I can speak English, Spanish, and French (and read a fair amount of Latin), and I tend to withhold judgement and not take things at face value. Mine is the sort of intelligence that wants to do a lot of research, look for origins and evidence and support, and tends to ask uncomfortable and unwelcome questions.

That may be why Anna was still a Christian (nominally, at least) while I was... not. On the other hand, we came back from our trip to discover that everyone - everyone - under the age twelve had disappeared, along with a fair amount of the adult population... and the adult statistics skewed heavily to certain strains of Christianity. Nobody knew how heavily, because nobody can organize a census that quickly, but even the preliminary, anecdotal information was fairly convincing. When the police department notices that eighty percent of their missing persons calls concern members of a certain church, and further investigation can locate only four or five people from a congregation of over one hundred, that's pretty convincing. So maybe I shouldn’t consider my disbelief a product of my intelligence, if you see what I mean.

And yes, I know that everyone who's reading this now has been through it themselves, and remembers how it happened. I'm not writing this part down for you. I'm writing it down for our children, if we have any, if the world lasts that long. If there's one thing you learn studying history, it's just how much information gets lost. It's frightening how fast knowledge can disappear - a generation, maybe less, if it isn't needed or isn't wanted.

So that's what happened to us: we went into the woods, and when we came out the world had changed.

Notes from the Mad Science Lab: For Flavor

2011-12-26T09:10:00.000-06:00

Ladies and Gentlemen, I have an announcement. You may want to make sure you are sitting down for this, as this is by far the most ambitious project I have ever undertaken. Is everybody ready?

Good.

Ladies and Gentlemen, for my next major project I propose to create something the world has never before experienced, something that despite decades of research and hundreds of attempts has never been accomplished. Ladies and Gentlemen, I will invent an artificial grape flavoring... that actually tastes like a grape!

Thank you, and good night.

Ninjas vs. zombies

2011-12-26T01:14:00.000-06:00

Quick survey: ninjas versus zombies.

Who wins?

Why?

No shirt, no shoes no service - no pants?

2011-12-24T16:31:00.000-06:00

So we took both the boys to McDonald's for lunch today. It went well, in that we got something that might loosely be described as "food," and the boys played in the gerbil tubes for at least two hours.

Secondborn is fierce and fearless. He has figured out that he can climb around in the tunnels, and he does. The sections that give other, older kids pause - like, say, the bits of heavy netting where you can see the floor below you - don't faze him at all. He isn't at all worried about whether anyone else comes with him, either. He just charges in, goes to the top level, and gets inside the little car. (He has a deep, strong love of anything with a steering wheel.) He'll even come down the slide on his own.

Anyway, at one point Firstborn has gone up there with him. And I have no idea what happened, but I look up to see a diaper-clad bottom flash past one of the plexiglass windows. I immediately suspect that this is my child, and this impression is reinforced by the fact that the mystery flasher is wearing the same red shirt that Secondborn had on.

My suspicions are further reinforced a moment later, when Firstborn flashes past the window. He is evidently in hot pursuit of his younger brother... and he's clutching his brother's pants.

Do I even want to know how this happened? No, not really. But I slip my shoes off, climb up into the tunnels, capture Secondborn, and then get Firstborn to hand me the pants. Offhand, I can't see any good way to get the pants back on the child inside the tunnels, so I slide us both down to the bottom. At last I am able to return my son's pants to their rightful place on his bottom, and once again all is right in the kingdom.

With my quest completed, I retire to my table for a well-deserved rest.

Classic Horror Movies From My Childhood

2011-12-22T11:04:00.000-06:00

When I was a youngster - I'm guessing I was around seven or eight, but I might have been as young as six - the local science museum decided to do a series of Saturday morning programs. The idea was that they'd show a movie, and then talk about the science in the movie, usually with some sort of arts and crafts activity. My parents were delighted by this idea, and promptly signed me up.

This turned out to be one of the formative experiences of my childhood - or, at the very least, one of the most memorable.

I really have no idea how the museum selected these movies, but I'm pretty sure cost was a factor: they were mostly older, often black-and-white films. Naturally, they involved enough science to be worth discussing. And, of course, they had been carefully selected for their ability to scare the living NFBSK out of an eight-year-old child.

I don't remember the exact sequence, but I think they might have started us with Soylent Green. This was my introduction to the concept of overpopulation, scarcity of resources, and possibly cannibalism. I don't remember exactly what sort of gloom and doom I announced to my parents when I came home from this, but I'm sure they were thrilled to have their kid explaining the eminent end of civilization to them.

Next up (I think) was Them! I had nightmares about giant ants for a week. (Admittedly, some of them were pretty cool nightmares.) Knowing about the biological limiting factors that prevent insects from getting that big? Didn't help. Not. At. All.

Obviously I wasn't permanently scarred, though. I say this because:
A) Them! remains one of my all-time favorite films to this day.
B) I went back to the museum the following Saturday and watched yet another child-traumatizing film.

After Them! we came to Invasion of the Body Snatchers. This was really an excellent choice, since if there's one thing you want to show children, it's a film whose central lesson is, "Whatever you do, don't fall asleep!" I'm sure my parents really appreciated that one.

The one that really did me in, though, was The Swarm. This was the film that gave me really bad nightmares for at least two weeks, and launched my life-long aversion to bees and wasps. After the movie was over, we learned that in fact those bees really did exist, and that they were moving north towards the United States - coming closer every year. And how do you defend yourself against a swarm of bees? You can't shoot them, you can't hit them with sticks, you can't run fast enough to get away... this was by far the scariest thing I'd ever encountered in my life. I swear I spent the next month sleeping entire under the covers so the bees couldn't find me. It's a wonder I didn't suffocate; I wouldn't make any openings, because then the bees could get in.

Now, some of you are (no doubt) sitting there thinking, Well, that sure explains a lot about him. And you may be right, because clearly neither I nor my parents learned our lesson from this. Oh, no. A few short years later, I talked them into letting me stay up extra-late one Saturday night so I could watch the original Alien. And maybe a year after that, my father went to the library and checked out The Thing from Another World and let me watch that with him, after explaining that it was set up a lot like Alien.

So now you know the truth: I acquired my lifelong love of horror movies from a science museum.

People helping people

2011-12-21T10:07:00.000-06:00

An iFriend posted this video on Facebook. I'm sharing it here because there's just something about watching people help each other (even in something that's very clearly dramatized) that cheers me up. Admittedly, it also left me a little sniffly, so if you don't want your co-workers to catch you crying you might want to watch it at home, or at least make sure nobody else is around. (I'd pretend like I'm the sort of manly man who doesn't get reduced to tears by, say, this sort of music video - or children's cartoons, for that matter - but I've been a parent for over five years now. If I ever had those sort of pretensions, or even a tiny little shred of personal dignity, they're long gone now.)

There you go. Hope it cheers you up, too.

More Christmas music

2011-12-21T08:56:00.001-06:00

Right, so: more Christmas music that I actually enjoy. Because, hey, it's that time of year.

In the last thread, Dav suggested this, and I thoroughly approve. Thanks!
Jonathan Coulton: Chiron Beta Prime

TV Smith: Xmas Bloody Xmas

Run DMC: Christmas in Hollis

It Dies Today: Feliz Navidad

Allison Crowe: Hallelujah

Jimmy Buffet: Ho Ho Ho and a Bottle of Rum

Got any other favorites? Feel free to mention them in the comments.

Late edit! Have some giant pandas doing somersaults in the snow!

A movie idea too terrifying to contemplate (sober)

2011-12-20T11:45:00.069-06:00

Opening Scene: A darkened laboratory. Men and women in lab coats stand in front of computer consoles. Through a heavily-reinforced window, a steel sphere is visible. The sphere is supported by an elaborate network of struts, tubes and wires.

Head Researcher: "Is everything ready?"

Assistant: "Almost. We're still charging the trigger. Anders thinks another minute or two."

Head Researcher: "Cold fusion. If this works, we can solve the world's energy problems. Clean, cheap, plentiful energy."

Assistant: "If we can get enough power to start the reaction..."

Head Researcher: (nods)

Anders: "Got it!"

Head Researcher: "Okay. Anders, watch those readings. Thompson, activate the cycle."

Thompson: "Activating."

The screen goes white. A moment later, the screen goes black.

Head Researcher: "What happened?"

Thompson: "I can't tell."

Anders: "Looked like a power spike... feedback from the reactor, maybe?"

Assistant: "Did it work?"

Fade back in to lab. Resolve blurry shapes into people. Through the reinforced window is a massive, oddly-shaped tree. After a moment, its branches move.

Head Researcher: "Where did it go? And what the Hell is *that*?"

Assistant: "It looks like a giant octo-"

Window smashes as a tentacle reaches through. It coils around Assistant and drags him through the window.

Anders: "Run. Run now."

Scene 1: front of building. Tentacles can be seen waving idly around and occasionally knocking down walls behind the researchers.

Head Researcher: "What *is* that thing? Where did it come from?"

Thompson: "It looks like the leviathan."

Anders: "It what?"

Thompson: "Leviathan. Giant octopus-squid thing? Ate the pirate ship?"

Anders: "You're babbling. Where did the reactor go?"

Cut scene: A man in a rumpled fedora and a battered leather jacket jams a wedge into a stone door to hold it open, then steps through. He stares up at the ancient stone altar, and the gleaming metal sphere resting atop it. Water and steam leak from the severed ends of tubes, and loose wires hang down across the front of the altar. The man pauses to examine the pattern of tiles on the floor, then carefully starts forward.

Head Researcher: "Maybe the energy from the reaction punched through to some other reality. I can't imagine where else the monster-"

Thompson: "Leviathan!"

Anders: "Not helping."

Head Researcher: "-could have come from."

Anders: "Come on. Let's find a phone."

Thompson: "Try my cell."

Anders: "Good call." Punches in numbers. "Yes, Dean Yeager? What? Listen, this is Anders down in R&D. We have a situation... Fine, I'll wait."

Thompson: "What is that?"

Head Researcher: "What is wha- We should run again."

Winged figure drops from the sky, lands on Thompson, and launches itself back into the air. Head Researcher and Anders run for shelter.

Anders: "Yeager? Yes, it's Dr. Anders... Research... Cold fusion, remember? I think we may... have done something wrong... and... what do you mean, turn on the TV?"

Anders: "No, we're busy running."

Anders and Head Researcher duck into a bank, which against all probability seems to be empty.

Anders: "Just a... moment..." (To himself:) "I should never have given up jogging." (Into phone:) "All over what, sir?"

Anders (to Head Researcher): "Apparently a batch of skeletal pirates just sailed into San Fransisco, looted everything within three blocks of the harbor, and sailed away in a black ship. New York has some sort of giant monster running around, knocking over buildings... and it seems to be dropping smaller, poisonous cricket-monsters."

Head Researcher: "What?"

Anders: "I think you were right. I think we punched through into some other movies, and now they're loose in our world."

A young woman hurries into the bank and starts towards the empty row of desks for the tellers. She appears puzzled by their absence. Behind her, the bank door slams open, and a young man chases her in.

Young Man: "Wait! Before you leave for Spain, there's something I have to tell you. Jane, I am hopelessly in love with you!"

Jane: "Oh, Martin! I love you, too! I've tried to ignore it, but it just..."

Martin: "I know."

The pair approach each other, embrace, and kiss.

Head Researcher: "And this is because of our experiment?"

Anders: "Looks that way."

A flash of movement catches his eye. Anders turns, tensing, as a tiny figure climbs onto the desk beside him.

Anders: "Oh, no."

Tiny Figure: "Where are we? This doesn't look like the village."

Head Researcher: "...Village?"

Tiny Figure: "Our home! Say, you're really big. And all this stuff is really big. Do you live here? Can you show us around?"

More figures climb onto the tops of desks, chairs, etc.

Tiny Figure: "'Cause that would be positively Smurfy!"

Anders: "My god, what have we done?"

Head Researcher: "NOOOOO! Please, God, Noooooo!"

Deconstruction: Night of the Living Dead Christian 23

2011-12-20T08:42:00.003-06:00

Public baptism and the end of the book

Welcome to the detailed (and spoiler-rich) review of Night of the Living Dead Christian. For a briefer review that doesn't give anything away, read the main review. If you're curious, here's a discussion of why I'm doing this.

This is a rather long bit of reaction, so I'm breaking it up into sections. Hopefully that will allow for more bite-sized discussions. So, now that you've all been fairly warned, we'll pick up the deconstruction after the jump:

The final section - not so much denouement as epilogue - is Luther's narration of his baptism. It's performed by his father, of course, and more or less everyone in the novel attends (including his ex-wife and his daughter). It is, Luther acknowledges, something of a formality: a public announcement of a loyalty already given. And in the course of the ceremony, Luther makes his long-overdue apology to Clarissa, knowing as he does that it will not make everything right between them. And then he is baptized, just in time for the sun to come over the mountains and end the story with a bright and shining moment.

This, again, basically works for me. I had a few minor quibbles... mainly that Luther spends a bit more effort than necessary thinking through the social implications of Clarissa showing up with their daughter, but without her new boyfriend; that seems so obviously the right way to handle the situation that I can't believe that Luther actually had to think it through. But, A) that may just be me, and B) it's pretty minor.

There's apparently some question (in the comments on an earlier post) about whether it's believable for Luther to be baptized by his father. The minister, after all, is the same man whom Luther has blamed for ruining his childhood and exposing him to an empty, holier-than-thou version of Christianity. (It's also possible that Reverent Martin is responsible for his son's lycanthropy. The book never explicitly says so, but it seems like a very reasonable inference.) As a reader, though, this gave me no trouble at all. For one thing, Luther has come to realize that however badly Reverend Martin expressed it, the minister does love his son. For another, Reverend Martin was right about the cure for lycanthropy - so, again, whatever he may have done wrong, Luther has now seen that he actually did have a legitimate point. Mainly, though, there's a very strong implication that having been forgiven himself, Luther is now able to offer forgiveness to others; and even as a non-Christian, that works fine for me.

And that's it for the deconstruction. I hope you've enjoyed reading it. I've enjoyed writing it, but more than that I've enjoyed the comments and discussions, so thanks again to Matt Mikalatos for pitching in to talk about his perspective, intentions, and experiences in writing Night of the Living Dead Christian. (Well, and even more thanks for putting up with this! That may seem like a normal, sensible reaction to you, but I've seen an awful lot of authors melt down in the face of much briefer critiques than this...) As a reminder, Matt is also the author of Imaginary Jesus - I haven't read that one (yet) but the Kindle edition is currently free with Amazon Prime... (Nudge, nudge.)

True Parenting Moments: Restraint

2011-12-19T22:04:00.002-06:00

I have reached a critical spot in the video game. I have my little character carefully lined up for the nearly-impossible jump that will take him into the next area. I am focused entirely on the screen in front of me and the controller in my hands.

From the couch beside me, a quiet voice says: "I was going to say something, Daddy, but I am being quiet so you can concentrate."

Why, yes. Yes you were.

Odd recommendation: The Innovators

2011-12-19T11:09:00.001-06:00

I recently saw The Innovators perform, and I thought they deserved a mention here. This is going to sound a bit odd, since they are an explicitly Christian music group, meaning that their songs are basically all songs of praise. (For those of you who aren't regular readers, I'm basically an atheist... so, pretty much the exact opposite of The Innovators' target audience.)

Musically, they're very good: there's nothing sloppy or unprofessional about their performance. They opened with a couple of praise songs done in a very catchy a cappella/barbershop style. They're originally from Zimbabwe, so the next couple of songs were done in their native language (Shona, I think) and were, for me, the most enjoyable part of the show. Though I have to say, the doo-wop version of Silent Night that they closed with was fun, too.

Basically, if you're looking for a music group to include in a praise service or something like that, these guys are very good and you should check them out. They're mostly performing in and around the Dallas/Fort Worth metroplex right now, but (based on their calendar) it looks like they're willing to travel.

Now, if explicitly inspirational/praise-oriented Christian music isn't your thing, you probably won't enjoy The Innovators anywhere near as much. They're not a group that I'd recommend for non-Christians or ex-Christians, as the all-praise-all-the-time vibe tends to wear on my nerves. But they knew what they were doing and they did it well, so if their material suits your beliefs you're good to go.

Deconstruction: Night of the Living Dead Christian 22

2011-12-19T09:19:00.000-06:00

You are my greatest adventure, and I almost missed it.

Welcome to the detailed (and spoiler-rich) review of Night of the Living Dead Christian. For a briefer review that doesn't give anything away, read the main review. If you're curious, here's a discussion of why I'm doing this.

This is a rather long bit of reaction, so I'm breaking it up into sections. Hopefully that will allow for more bite-sized discussions. So, now that you've all been fairly warned, we'll pick up the deconstruction after the jump:

Narrator-Matt has helped his friend Luther find a cure for his lycanthropy. Owing to a... mishap... on his way home, he has stopped to talk with his neighber, the semi-ex-vampire Lara, and the semi-ex-zombie Robert. Lara has apparently been considering suicide; she's been sharpening stakes. Narrator-Matt reassures them that salvation is possible for them. When he finally leaves, he takes the stakes with the intention of throwing them away when he gets home.

...At which point he discovers that the reason his wife was calling him is because her water has broken, and she's bundling herself and the children into the van to head for the hospital. This is presumably also why she's too busy to smack him in the head for neglecting her, though I suppose it's possible that she knows better than to expect an Igor not to be a bit... distractible.

As a result, Narrator-Matt misses the touching reunion between Luther (the recently-cured werewolf) and his wife, Clarissa. Unlike the last time, Luther has gone all-out to show how much he's changed. He's cleaned the house, cleaned himself, bought flowers... He greets Clarissa at the door, embraces her, explains about the fire and the miracle, and how he's going to get baptized, and how he was willing to go to counseling with her[1], and how he and she and their daughter could all go to church together, and...

...And it's too late. She's brought the divorce papers. She believes that he's changed, but too much has happened and she's found someone else.

If you have any sympathy for Luther, this is sad. This was his goal, after all: to be rid of his lycanthropy so he could be with his wife and daughter again. And he's done everything he needed to in order to make this happen, only it's too late to fix things. I can see that, but I don't have a lot of sympathy for Luther[2], so I was more impressed by how realistic this section was. As tragic as it seems, as much as it makes them both sad, it's still something that Clarissa has to do.

This was one of the sections of the book that really worked for me. And it shows Luther's character growth that he doesn't freak out, that he mourns without raging at his wife.

Narrator-Matt describes the birth of his daughter, and his hopes for her, and offers some thoughts on the idea of being born again. He talks about hearing cries a few days later, and going outside to find Luther huddled against the side of his house, his wolf-skin tied on with twine. "He was crying in the rain, saying that he wanted her back and he thought that everything would be wonderful when he was born again, but he was wrong. It's not all wonderful. It's worth it, but it's not wonderful."

This book is, in its way, a somewhat subversive look at Christian beliefs (at least, some flavors of them). This particular passage is also a subversion of the standard Christian conversion story ("I once was lost, but now I'm found, etc.") in that it presents Salvation not as a goal, but as the first step on a new road. And I like that. I may not share those beliefs, but I like that.

[1] This is, by the way, a good indicator that the earlier section featuring the destructively misguided harpy of a counselor doesn't actually reflect the author's view of the profession.

[2] It occurs that me that Luther would completely understand my lack of sympathy.

Christmas Music

2011-12-16T15:25:00.000-06:00

I've mentioned before that I'm a bit... ambivalent... about holiday music. But hey, we're almost to Christmas, so I figure I'll put up a couple of songs that I actually like. So...

Tom Lehrer: A Christmas Carol

The Pogues: Fairy Tale of New York

Weird Al: Christmas At Ground Zero

The Accelerators: Christmas is a Pain in the Arse

Blink 182: I Won't Be Home For Christmas

No Doubt: Oi To The World

Deconstruction: Night of the Living Dead Christian 21

2011-12-16T12:40:00.014-06:00

Where the zombies went wrong?

Welcome to the detailed (and spoiler-rich) review of Night of the Living Dead Christian. For a briefer review that doesn't give anything away, read the main review. If you're curious, here's a discussion of why I'm doing this.

This is a rather long bit of reaction, so I'm breaking it up into sections. Hopefully that will allow for more bite-sized discussions. So, now that you've all been fairly warned, we'll pick up the deconstruction after the jump:

At this point, Matt stops to encourage Robert to become less of a zombie by doing more thinking for himself. "Robert, I know this is all well intentioned. But zombies... they're like an entire race of people who think they are following Jesus but are actually following a moral system... a list of what should and should not be done."

The message here is a little muddled - there's some discussion of the need for a relationship with Jesus and the help of the Holy Spirit to make people able to follow a Christian moral code, and some discussion about faith versus works - but basically I think this section of the book is arguing against the sort of Christianity where love (and sometimes faith, too) gets swallowed by empty legalism and an overwhelming reliance on semi-arbitrary rules and/or human authorities. "You're looking for some spectacular spiritual leader to give you answers to every hard question, instead of doing the hard work of finding out what God says about it yourself."

And, unable to think of any human solution for the situation, Matt offers a brief prayer that the half-alive churches like Dr. Bokor's might be filled with God's overflowing life instead.

He then continues talking to Robert and Lara, moving to the topic of sin and depravity. Lara asks if there's hope for people like them - which is almost odd, considering that she's the one who set Narrator-Matt and Luther on the path to a cure, except that her own cure is such a long, slow process that it's pretty easy to see how she might get discouraged. And Narrator-Matt considers the idea that we are all sinners, but then goes on to point out that it's very easy, too easy, to get fixated on that and forget that we are all, also, made in the image of God. That wasn't something that got lost in the Fall; God affirms it Noah, later in Genesis.

Now, that could be a rejection of the doctrine of Total Depravity, but - as Fred Clark has also suggested, now and again - Matt argues that in fact the two views aren't exclusive. He admits that he doesn't understand it himself, but he thinks that while we are (inherently, always) sinful, we are also (inherently, always) made in the image of God. That maybe "sinful" doesn't mean what we think it does. (I'd add, in another nod to Slacktivist, that it's just as likely that "total" isn't being used in quite the way that most people think it is.)

Lara has been sharpening stakes. Since she doesn't seem to be pulling a Blade and going out to hunt other vampires, this seems like an expression of what counselors like to call "suicidal ideation." And by this point in the conversation, she has given Narrator-Matt permission to do whatever he likes with the stakes.

And then Matt's phone rings. It's his wife, Krista. So he pauses to tell another story (which, I don't know, another reader might have found more affecting; to me, at this point in the narrative, it just seemed to drag on). The story basically reiterates his point that we don't have to be "captives to our base desires," but can strive to be more like God.

And then he takes the stakes, and leaves the house with them.

Email from my mom

2011-12-16T08:30:00.000-06:00

This came in an e-mail from my mom. Since I know that some of you share my... idiosynctratic, yeah, that's the word for it... sense of humor, I thought I'd pass it along:

Please join me in remembering a great icon of the entertainment community. The Pillsbury Doughboy died yesterday of a yeast infection and trauma complications from repeated pokes in the belly. He was 71.

Doughboy was buried in a lightly greased coffin. Dozens of celebrities turned out to pay their respects, including Mrs. Butterworth, Hungry Jack, the California Raisins, Betty Crocker, the Hostess Twinkies, and Captain Crunch. The grave site was piled high with flours.

Aunt Jemima delivered the eulogy and lovingly described Doughboy as a man who never knew how much he was kneaded. Doughboy rose quickly in show business, but his later life was filled with turnovers. He was considered a very smart cookie, but wasted much of his dough on half-baked schemes. Despite being a little flaky at times, he still was a crusty old man and was considered a positive roll model for millions.

Doughboy is survived by his wife Play dough, three children: John Dough, Jane Dough and Dosey Dough, plus they had one in the oven. He is also survived by his elderly father, Pop tart.

The funeral was held at 3:50 for about 20 minutes.

If this made you smile for even a brief second, please rise to the occasion and take time to pass it on and share that smile with someone else who may be having a crumby day and kneads a lift.

Deconstruction: Night of the Living Dead Christian 20

2011-12-15T12:49:00.001-06:00

Zombies and the Doctrine of Universal Monstrosity

Welcome to the detailed (and spoiler-rich) review of Night of the Living Dead Christian. For a briefer review that doesn't give anything away, read the main review. If you're curious, here's a discussion of why I'm doing this.

This is a rather long bit of reaction, so I'm breaking it up into sections. Hopefully that will allow for more bite-sized discussions. So, now that you've all been fairly warned, we'll pick up the deconstruction after the jump:

And so but anyway, back to Narrator-Matt and his return to the neighborhood. (I'm skipping over a bit of EMS-and-hospital material, because basically it just establishes that Reverend Martin looks set to make a complete recovery, and Luther is miraculously unharmed; he isn't even burned.) Narrator-Matt returns home to find that his house his overrun with zombies... who are doing his yard work for him.

This is, to my mind, absolutely the best sort of zombie one might hope to encounter. Narrator-Matt, however, has had enough of monsters and unexplained events, and sneaks off to his shed... which is almost empty, since the zombies are already using all the tools. Armed with a broom, he steps out to do battle... only to discover that the zombies are thrilled to see him, call him "Master," and only want to serve him. Narrator-Matt, unfortunately, has already set to whacking the zombies with the broom, so we're treated to another little bit of slapstick when the zombies decide that, in keeping with the Golden rule, they are ethically required to beat up Narrator-Matt as well.

Fortunately, Robert The (Half-)Zombie - the one Luther and Narrator-Matt originally collected from Dr. Bokor's Zombie Church - intercedes, and take Narrator-Matt over to Lara's house to recover. Apparently Robert has convinced the other zombies that Narrator-Matt is a great master, so they've left Dr. Bokor to follow Matt instead. "It took a while to convince them that you were a mad scientist," Robert explains. "But I eventually got through to them."

Narrator-Matt, of course, vehemently denies being a mad scientist. And as a reader, I had much the same reaction - but for an entirely different reason. See, way back in the beginning of the book, when Narrator-Matt was establishing his bona fides as a monster-hunter by way of explaining to Dr. Culbetron and Hibbs 3000 that he (Matt) should be in charge of the werewolf hunt... well, he mentioned in passing that he has an extra half-vertebra in his back. And one of the recurrent themes in this book has been that We Are All Monsters. So all this time I've been expecting the Big Reveal about Narrator-Matt to be that he's actually an Igor - a hunchback who goes around helping out more powerful monsters, mad scientists, etc.

But, no. Lara The (Half-)Vampire explains why Robert has tagged him as a mad scientist instead: "You have all the classic signs, Matt. You think you're smarter than other people. You have your little knot of henchmen. You're trying to fix the world around you whatever the cost, never thinking of the damage you're doing." ... "You even have monsters following you around and doing your bidding."

I can actually see that, if I squint a little. Aside from Robert, I'm not at all sure that "henchmen" is an accurate description of Narrator-Matt's little group - they all seem to operate pretty independently, and in several cases have gone directly against his wishes to save him from the consequences of his own bad judgement - but they've all been working together and at least sometimes following Matt's lead, so I'll let that slide. The big issue I had was that Narrator-Matt is missing a critical element of being a mad scientist: the science. So in terms of classical horror-movie Big Bads, I wouldn't call him a mad scientist. He's closer in some ways to an Evil High Priest. (Admittedly, that impression may be creeping in from that one Dungeons & Dragons adventure in my childhood, but still...) On the other hand, he doesn't seem terribly well-versed in Christian thought and doctrine, either - he keeps having to look things up, or consult with other people, or stop and consider relatively simple issues - so I think I'm going to stick with the type of monster I originally expected him to be revealed as: he's an Igor, a lab assistant who wants to be in charge.

But Lara hands Matt a mirror, and looking into it he has to admit that he does, at least, look the part of a mad scientist. Admittedly, that's partly because the zombies have dressed him in a lab coat, but apparently he's got the wild-eyed and frizzy-haired parts down, too. And, as Lara points out, he's been neglecting his family for his work. So, yeah, deciding that Matt's a mad scientist of sorts isn't too big a stretch.

Deconstruction: Night of the Living Dead Christian 19

2011-12-14T08:08:00.000-06:00

He's Saved! Howl-elujah!

Welcome to the detailed (and spoiler-rich) review of Night of the Living Dead Christian. For a briefer review that doesn't give anything away, read the main review. If you're curious, here's a discussion of why I'm doing this.

This is a rather long bit of reaction, so I'm breaking it up into sections. Hopefully that will allow for more bite-sized discussions. So, now that you've all been fairly warned, we'll pick up the deconstruction after the jump:

Luther is a werewolf who wishes to be free of his curse. He has spent most of the book trying various things, none of which have worked. Following a fight with a werewolf hunter inside a burning church, Luther has spoken with Jesus and pledged himself to Him. Jesus then reaches down, grabs his wolfy jaws, and tears him apart.

Now we return to Narrator-Matt's viewpoint. Police and firefighters have arrived on the scene. They put out the fire and haul a wolf’s pelt from the wreckage. A few minutes later they pull Luther out also, miraculously undamaged save for a faint scar left from where Jesus removed his wolf-side.

Luther is cured at last. He’s also a Christian, now, though he won’t be formally baptized until the epilogue. He spends a little time getting checked out in the hospital, and then Narrator-Matt takes him home. Narrator-Matt then says his goodbyes to Dr. Culbetron and Hibbs, and... well, we’ll come back to that. I have some issues with this resolution that I want to look at, first.

I don’t have an issue with Luther’s redemption per se. I don’t have an issue with Luther becoming a Christian - that’s the kind of book we’re reading here, after all. In a Romance novel, the main characters will get together; in a Mystery, the murder (or other crime) will get solved; in Christian Fiction the lost soul will be saved. The pleasure of reading doesn’t depend on the nature of the ending, but on how we get there; if you don’t like that sort of ending, you’re reading the wrong genre.

No, what bothers me is this: Luther is reconciled with his father the minister, and with his Father The Deity, in the form of a burning Jesus... and at this point his monstrosity is torn out of him, and he is reborn. Lara, on the other hand, has also spoken with Reverend Martin, and presumably accepted Jesus... and at this point she gets to undertake an ongoing struggle to regain her humanity by exposing herself (repeatedly and painfully) to sunlight, and not drinking blood. Luther gets the full-on, dramatic, monster-removing redemption; while Lara gets a sort of half-assed redemption that doesn’t seem to have done much for her except show her how to fix herself - using a process that would probably work fine without involving Jesus at all.

In fairness, Luther clearly isn’t perfected by his redemption - nor are all his problems solved. His wife, Clarissa, has already filed for divorce, and despite the way he’s shaped himself up she intends to go through with it. (And, actually, I thought this was a nicely realistic touch.) Luther freaks out at least once after his redemption, too - Narrator-Matt finds him outside his house with his wolf pelt tied on with twine. (Which, again, struck me as eminently believable.)

Even so, Luther finds Jesus and has his humanity restored; Lara finds Jesus and remains a vampire, albeit with some hope of regaining her humanity after a great deal of hard work and personal sacrifice. This strikes me as unjust and inconsistent (though, arguably, realistic[1]).

By itself, it wouldn’t strike me as necessarily sexist, but of course there’s the rest of the book to consider. The psychologist whose therapeutic advice is not just useless, but actively counterproductive? A woman. (Try to picture those scenes with a male in the role of psychologist, and see how it plays out.) Luther’s (ex-)wife, Clarissa, behaves in an eminently sensible and understandable fashion, but Narrator-Matt (and bear in mind, he seems to be intended to be Author-Matt also, in some sense) nevertheless insists on characterizing her actions as cruel and hostile towards his good buddy, Luther. And Lara, of course, gets a pretty raw deal compared to Luther when it comes to redemption.

So yeah, what with one thing and another I came away with a fairly strong impression that the man gets the big, dramatic, impressive redemption - because he’s a man - while the woman does a lot more work with a lot less help, and might maybe someday get some sort of, “Oh, you finally got your humanity back, good for you,” acknowledgement from Jesus for her efforts - because she’s a woman.[2] Was that intentional? Almost certainly not. Was it sexist? ...Yeah, I think so, in that subtle-assumptions sort of way that’s so hard for us privileged folks to recognize in ourselves.

[1] I’ve been told on a great many occasions that “life isn’t fair,” and I suppose by extension it’s reasonable to assume that the Author Of Our Existence wouldn’t necessarily be fair, either. (Aziraphile: “It’s ineffable.” Crowley: “It’s lunatic.”)

[2] I’ve noted before that this is also the way the distribution of labor is set up in a depressingly high percentage of churches.

The Pinnacle Of Awesome

2011-12-13T07:29:00.001-06:00

Anyone who's been on the Internet for any length of time is aware of Internet memes: LOLcats, for example. Or strange and wondrous phrases ("All your ____ are belong to us.") Ninjas. Pirates.

Mostly, they're amusing. Every once in a while, though, an Internet meme gets out of hand.

I'm thinking, in particular, of bacon.

Bacon is awesome. Bacon is wonderful. Bacon is the best thing to come along since, well, ever.

Bacon is so awesome that it must be incorporated into everything. Thus, we now have bacon-flavored salt. Freeze-dried survival bacon. You can even purchase your very own talking, plush bacon to hug and cuddle between bites of bacon. I am not making this up.

You can get bacon-flavored mints, bacon-scented air fresheners, bacon flavored popcorn, and baconnaise. And I have to admit that those things are, well, pretty freakin' awesome.

But I have something better. The ultimate expression of bacon-loving. The pinnacle of awesome. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you...

...bacon-flavored bacon.

I ask you, can it get any more awesome than that?

Update on Night of the Living Dead Christian

2011-12-12T09:01:00.000-06:00

We're very nearly done with the... vivisection? ...of Night of the Living Dead Christian. We're also nearly at the end of the commentary that I'd written out in advance. So I'm going to take a brief break - probably just a couple of days - and write out the last of my critique before I resume posting it here. There are... I don't know, five or six more entries at most, so we'll be done in time for Christmas.

(That will be my gift to Matt Mikalatos: he won't have to read any more of my criticism! I'm sure this will come as a great relief, though he's been a wonderfully good sport about all this.)

So, yeah. That's where we are, and that's where we're going.

Real Work Conversations: The Ultimate SF Movie Script

2011-12-12T07:28:00.001-06:00

This is why I love my workplace. Well, one of the reasons.

So I'm walking down the hall, and I hear this:

Bob: "...be Highlander V. Or whatever. We could do this, we'd just need something..."

Sam: "Lightsabers."

Bob: "Yeah! No, too distinctive."

Sam: "Too copyrighted."

Me (stopping in the doorway): "Though I did once write a bit of fan fiction in which a Sith Lord was going around killing Jedi, harvesting their midichlorians, and injecting them into his own body. 'Cause after doing that for a while, there can be only one..."

Sam: "Yeah, way to mind-f*ck that childhood memory. Turns out The Force isn't some invisible energy field that surrounds us and binds us together. Turns out there are these little micro-organisms that live in your body, feeding off of you, and crapping Force into your body. And if you have enough of them, you can become a Jedi."

Bob: "And then the Umbrella Corporation got ahold of them."

Sam: "No."

Me: "No, I like this. They inject them into your body, and they give you psychic powers, except when you die you become a zombie and go out to devour the brains of Jedi. This could work."

Sam: "And they're real slow, but it doesn't matter because when you try to run they can Force-pull you back to them. Just-" (He demonstrates in pantomime.)

Bob: "We should find an RTVF Major to make this film."

Unfortunately, at that point I had to go, so I didn't get to hear how the rest of the conversation went.

Christian parents of atheist or agnostic children

2011-12-09T13:47:00.000-06:00

I'm not sure exactly how to start this post, since it's a response to the troubles that some of my friends (in various locations) have run into recently, and I really don't want to name names or even talk about specific situations. But it seems worthwhile to look at this topic again, only this time specifically in terms of family relationships.

Before I jump in, I'd like to point out some other resources that might also be helpful:

Friendly Evangelism - a while back, I wrote a series of posts on how Christians can talk to ex-Christians and non-Christians without driving them away, starting arguments, or giving offense. (It's best to scroll down and start at the beginning.)
Alise... Write! - Alise is a Christian whose (formerly Christian) husband lost his faith. She has some very interesting material on moving into and being part of an "unevenly-yoked" marriage. (Again, it's best to scroll down and start at the beginning.)
Better a good atheist than a bad Christian - John Shore talks about priorities.
What to do if your college-aged child turns his back on Judaism - Shula J Asher Silberstein's article is aimed at Jewish parents, but there's plenty there to help Christian parents as well.

The Friendly Evangelism posts were aimed at general communication, and (because of the way the question was originally posed) focused mainly on talking to people you don't know, in an online environment. Talking to a family member adds a whole new set of issues and potential problems. Now it's not just religious differences creating friction; you can cheerfully throw in family dynamics, generational differences, and a host of other things to really muddy the water. Fun for the whole family, right?

No. It's not fun. In fact, I can pretty well guarantee that it's not fun for anybody. The best you can hope for - the absolute best - is that it won't be a very big deal.[1] That's true whether you're the Christian parent, or the atheist/agnostic[2] child. It's a difficult, tricky situation. Which brings me to my first piece of advice:

Don't panic. I know this is a huge shock for you. I realize that - depending on your particular flavor of Christianity - you may be terrified by the thought that your own flesh and blood is now bound for Hell. You may be wondering how this happened, what went wrong, whether you could have done something to prevent it, and what happens next. You may feel that the world is out of balance, that everything is wrong. But whatever you do, share as little of this reaction as possible with your child. Wait. Walk away and have your primal scream in private.[3]

Remember that however difficult, unpleasant, and horrifying this may be for you to accept, it was at least that hard for your child, too. In fact, it was probably harder. That feeling that someone just pulled the rug out from under you, or kicked a leg out from under your chair, or punched you in the gut? They've had that. And odds are, if you're reading this, they've felt that in very recent memory.

After that, watch your language. Losing your faith is almost never a quick, casual decision. For most people, it's an uncomfortable and unwelcome conclusion to a long and painful search for answers. So anything you say, or ask, that sounds like your child chose to quit being Christian is going to be unwelcome at best. At worst, it's infuriating.

Similarly, anything that has to do with their relationship with God is probably unwelcome. People who are unhappy with their church (or their minister, or their faith community) just go find another church. People who are dissatisfied with Christianity itself but still believe in some sort of divinity will move to another religion, or become "spiritual but not religious".[4] To get all the way to atheism, or even firm agnosticism, you have to conclude that either God doesn't exist, or at the very least that He isn't active in the world. And once someone has reached that point, they don't have feelings about God. They don't see religion as having anything to do with God: it's just people. As far as they can tell, it has always been just people. So they don't "hate God" and they aren't "angry at God." They can't be; for atheists, that's like being mad at Santa Claus.

That said, they can be, and probably are, angry about being told for years about God. Once someone has concluded that God doesn't exist - or even that He isn't what they were told - they tend to feel like a great many people have lied to them. They tend to feel like they've been used and manipulated. They feel betrayed. If you're seeing anger, that's where a lot of it is coming from. That's not all of it, but that's a lot.

The other part of the anger is mostly - one way or another - a reaction to pain. Losing faith is painful. Losing faith means asking questions that peers, family, and authority figures may find uncomfortable, unwelcome, or inappropriate. (It feels a bit like admitting to people that you have a communicable disease.) In the process of losing their faith, a lot of people also lose friends, relationships, even entire communities. At its worst, losing your faith is like losing your whole world - or, worse, losing yourself. It's an experience of finding out that you aren't who you thought you were, that things you'd always relied on weren't true, or weren't there. This experience is made worse by the fact that very few people understand (and fewer accept) what the disaffected Christian is going through as they lose their faith - especially in more conservative, religious communities.

Basically, you should try to avoid anything that trivializes their loss of faith: anything that makes it sound like they're just being silly or childish or petulant; anything that makes it sound like a simple choice; and - and here's the hard part - anything that treats their lack of belief as something other than a lack of belief. Telling a former believer that they just had a bad experience with the church, or that they're just mad at God, sends a very clear message that you have no idea what happened to them and aren't interested in finding out.

Listen to people who know. As a rule, Christianity doesn't really prepare its adherents for the idea of people losing their faith. Changing from one denomination to another, sure - but dropping out of Christianity entirely? Rare few churches ever talk about that. Most churches assume that atheists have never heard of the Gospel, or at the very least that they've never been exposed to true Christianity. A casual reading of the Apostle Paul would suggest that there's no such thing as an atheist, that God's presence is so unambiguously obvious that anyone who denies His existence must clearly be in rebellion against Him. There are several problems with these views, but even if they were irrefutably true, here and now they're just not helpful.

By the same token, talking with your minister (priest, pastor, whatever) might be helpful, but odds are good that they don't have a lot more experience with this than you do. Despite what you (and they) might hope, their training isn't likely to be especially helpful, either. So by all means ask them for advice, but take their answers with a grain of salt (or, in some cases, an entire salt mine).

You know who's going to best understand what your child is going through? That's right... it's your child. Listen to what your child has to say about his or her experience. But - and this is a very big "but" - remember that losing faith is a process. It's not like buying a car, where one day you can just decide to go out and do it, and then it's done. Your child may not be able to fully articulate everything that went into their loss of faith, particularly not in a way that make sense to you. So listen. Ask questions if you must. Take time to think over what they tell you. Above all, do not demand answers. If you can accept that you may never understand what happened, that will probably help.

Treat your child like an adult. The age of the child is going to make a big difference, here. High-school or college age children may just be "going through a phase" or "rebelling" or what have you. Then again, they may not. I myself wandered away from Christianity in my early teens; I'm creeping up on forty now, and Christian beliefs still don't make any sense to me.[5] Either way, it's best to treat your child as if this is a serious conclusion that they've legitimately worked their way to.

That's doubly important if your children actually are independent adults. I shouldn't even have to say that, but I keep running into parents who can't seem to process the fact that their children can, in fact, make decisions and reach conclusions on their own. Despite the fact that these "children" are completely self reliant, gainfully employed, married, and/or parents in their own right, their parents either can't or won't acknowledge that they have the right and ability to be self-determining.

Be ready to make some adjustments. If your child is still at home, forcing them to go to church with you isn't going to magically turn them back into a Christian - in fact, it's rather more likely to drive them further away. The same goes for leaving tracts around for them to find. If you, or they, aren't comfortable talking about religion - or can't discuss it calmly, or whatever - then put the topic off-limits. (Sort like the "Don't talk politics at the family gathering" rule. Remember that one? The one that was put in place because Uncle Charlie loves to argue, and holds political opinions that are diametrically opposed to those of everyone else in the family, and can't or won't pull back before things get really unpleasant?) If your grown child isn't comfortable with taking your grandchildren to church, let it go. It's not that important, and it's not like they're going to grow up never hearing about Jesus.[6] Take a deep breath, be flexible, and try to focus on what's really important: your relationship with your child.

Above all, have faith. I know that sounds funny coming from me, but I'm serious. If you can't trust in your child, trust in God. Do you really think He's just going to let them fall? (If you just said yes, are we talking about the same deity? He'd sacrifice His only Son to save everyone, but you think He's just going to stand by when it comes to your child?) Do you really think He's all that concerned about whether or not they're aware of His presence? Especially when compared to, say, how they're living their lives?

Don't let your confusion and fear try to tell you the limits of God's grace and mercy. Have faith. Trust.

* * *
So that's my advice. I hope it helps. Comments are open. If there's something you'd like to add - something I missed, or something you think I got wrong - please contribute. If you have questions, please ask. If you've found other resources helpful, let us know. Discovering that your child has lost his or her faith is a difficult, unpleasant situation, but you can work through it and you can keep your family intact.

[1] At worst... well, I know of one case where a high school senior was kicked out of his house, his possessions tossed out on the yard to get rained on; not just disowned, but disavowed entirely.

[2] A quick note on terminology: "atheism" is generally defined as the belief that there is (or are) no God (or gods). Agnosticism is generally defined as uncertainty about the existence of God, or sometimes as the belief that it's impossible to really know whether or not God exists. In practice, there's a huge amount of overlap between those two positions. There are a lot of atheists who prefer to define the term not as definite belief that God does not exist, but as a lack of belief that God does exist. There are plenty of agnostics who are functionally atheist: since they see no definite evidence proof of God's existence, they assume that He doesn't exist.

[3] I realize that if you've looked this up on the Internet, it's probably just exactly too late for this advice. I stand by it nevertheless.

[4] Oddly, a lot of people find this easier to accept than the notion that their child doesn't believe in the supernatural at all. I say "oddly" because from a theological perspective, it makes no sense: in most Christian doctrine, a Buddhist is just as damned as an atheist. Though in all honesty, I think this particular part of Christian doctrine is based on a seriously misguided reading of the Bible.

[5] So my parents have been coping with my lack of belief for quite a long time, now.

[6] Seriously, in modern, Western nations, that's essentially impossible. Everybody hears about Jesus.

Deconstruction: Night of the Living Dead Christian 18

2011-12-08T12:23:00.032-06:00

Inside the burning church

Welcome to the detailed (and, unfortunately, spoiler-rich) review of Night of the Living Dead Christian. For a briefer review that doesn't give anything away, read the main review. If you're curious, here's a discussion of why I'm doing this.

This is a rather long bit of reaction, so I'm breaking it up into sections. Hopefully that will allow for more bite-sized discussions. So, now that you've all been fairly warned, we'll pick up the deconstruction after the jump:

Luther is a werewolf who wishes to be free of his curse. He has spent most of the book trying various things, none of which have worked. Now, following a confrontation with his father and fight with a monster hunter, he is standing inside a burning church which is about to collapse: caught between death and redemption. His buddy, Narrator-Matt, is outside the church and has just watched it collapse.

Before the reader has time to worry about Luther’s fate, we switch to another of Luther’s interludes. Luther now explains about how his father’s sacrifice has caused him to realize that he really does love the old man. (He doesn’t share my misgivings on the topic, apparently.) And then he hears a voice calling him back into the building, and sees a burning man inside. This is obviously Jesus, and Luther approaches Him just as Borut (who is now a Satan-analogue, it seems) rises up from beneath a pile of burning rubble and demands the wolf’s life as his due. Jesus proceeds to coax Luther through a series of questions and answers, including a question of Luther’s: “I want to follow you. You know that. But what is the cost?”

I want to pause here, because this bothered me. I think it’s Biblical - or Biblical enough that most Christian readers won’t be especially bothered by it. But here is Jesus’ response to that question:

"If you were at war with a foreign king with an army twice as large as yours, Luther, an army you knew you could not defeat, what concessions would you make for peace?"

I looked at the floor. "I would give him whatever terms he asked for."

"In the same way, you must give up everything you have or you cannot be my follower."

There’s a rather disturbing implication, here. If the choice is between following Jesus or eternal torment in Hell, then every conversion is a conversion at gunpoint. Heck, if the choice is between following Jesus or death, then every conversion is a conversion at gunpoint. God is, metaphorically, holding a gun to the head of all of humanity. This does not strike me as the behavior of a being who is loving, good, or just. I realize that this is an objection to Christian doctrine in general, rather than a complaint specific to this book, but I found it troubling all the same. (And it is outlined very explicitly here.)

Secondarily, what exactly does Jesus mean by “everything you have”? Isn’t that exactly what the zombies have done? They’ve given up their thinking, their free will, and presumably a fair chunk of their Earthly possessions - everything they have. And yet they are not presented as an ideal (or even a particularly good) approach to being a Christian. Is the problem here that they've given those things up to Dr. Bokor, rather than to Jesus? Or does "everything you have" not actually mean "everything you have"? Maybe it's more like owing "a favor" to a mob boss, where you know it's going to be something and possibly something unpleasant, but you don't get to know what? Or maybe it's just Jesus' way of saying, "Don't ask." Night of the Living Dead Christian raises the question, at least by implication, but it doesn't really try to answer it.

Facing Jesus, Luther declares himself His servant. Beside them, Borut is still demanding the death of the wolf, and Jesus says something about needing to die in order to live. All this comes together - very nicely, from a story and pacing perspective - when Jesus reaches down and tears the werewolf apart.

Christmas Angels

2011-12-08T07:54:00.002-06:00

Some of you may be wondering where the custom of setting an angel at the very top of a Christmas tree comes from. Well...

As I understand the story, one year Santa was very busy. The elves were disorganized, the reindeer were slacking off, Mrs. Claus had just burnt the cookies. Nothing seemed to be going right.

Up in Heaven, God looked down and noticed that Christmas was in serious danger of being late - they didn't even have the tree set up in the toy factory yet! So He sent one of His angels down to help.

There at the North Pole, one of the management elves had just finished telling Santa that they'd lost a whole ream of wish lists, and that Rudolph was violently ill from overeating, and that they were having trouble with the runners on the sled. The angel arrived right about then, and finds Santa talking with this elf beside their Christmas tree - which is still lying on the factory floor, waiting to be set up.

Well, the angel heads over there to help. Santa looks up at the angel's arrival (which is yet another unwelcome interruption) and the angel asks: "What should I do with this tree?"

The rest is history.

Christmas for non-Christians

2011-12-07T15:04:00.000-06:00

We celebrate Christmas. Or solstice, or Saturnalia, or whatever. We have stockings, Christmas trees, presents. Firstborn helped set up the manger scene at my parents’ house this past weekend. (It has a delightful collection of little pewter animals, and my father built a sort of lincoln-logs-on-a-wooden-base setup for the manger itself.) We won’t be attending services, let alone midnight mass, because, y’know, we’re not actually Christian in a religious sense.

Even so, there’s plenty to celebrate. For thing, there's a lot of Christmas that isn’t actually Christian in a religious sense. And culturally, we are Christian: Christianity is the first thing that comes to mind when we think of religion, Christian holidays are the ones we grew up celebrating, and Christian churches are the ones that we will definitely not be attending.

I've ranted before about my deep and profound loathing for the holiday season, but the holiday itself I rather like. And despite my lack of religious faith, I don't see any particular reason not to celebrate the parts I enjoy.

The Christmas songs are, of course, explicitly religious, but that's not as hard to fix as you might think:

Adeste infideles, laeti triumphantes;
venite et bibate cervisia!

Or...

O Tannenbaum, O Tannenbaum,
Ich habe dich getötet.
Ich schneide sie ab und brachte sie in.
Mein Boden ist in Ihrem Nadeln begraben.
O Tannenbaum, O Tannenbaum,
Ich hätte lassen Sie wachsen!

Or you could go with something more contemporary; I was recently introduced to White Wine in the Sun:

Whatever you're doing for the holidays, be safe and enjoy yourselves. Feel free to talk about your plans, traditions - or, if you prefer, your deep hatred for retail work and general disgust with Christmas Carols - in the comments. Or correct my German. Or whatever. Consider this an open thread.

Deconstruction: Night of the Living Dead Christian 17

2011-12-06T08:57:00.002-06:00

Finally, an explanation of sorts...

Welcome to the detailed (and, unfortunately, spoiler-rich) review of Night of the Living Dead Christian. For a briefer review that doesn't give anything away, read the main review. If you're curious, here's a discussion of why I'm doing this.

This is a rather long bit of reaction, so I'm breaking it up into sections. Hopefully that will allow for more bite-sized discussions. So, now that you've all been fairly warned, we'll pick up the deconstruction after the jump:

So now we get to find out why Reverend Martin called in Borut. “I called the Hunter because he was coming for you anyway, and I thought I might be able to help you. I thought if you saw that death was coming for you, you might choose to cross the line from death into life.”

Yeah. That’s really his explanation. I wanted to scare you onto the right path, so I called in this guy who’s really trying to kill you. Because I love you that much! Up to this point, Reverend Martin has been presented as someone who knows what he’s doing. Apparently that’s not actually the case. Apparently he is every bit as crazy as Luther first said he was.

Reverend Martin then reveals that the wolf pelt behind his desk was his. It’s a reminder of when he used to be a werewolf. Which is interesting on a couple of levels. Does that mean lycanthropy is hereditary? Or was the Reverend still werewolf enough to infect Luther when Luther was a child? The latter possibility would certainly explain some of the guilt and ambivalence that seem to characterize Reverend Martin’s relationship with his son. It would also work well with the idea of lycanthropy as a metaphor for the sin of Rage, since abused children so often grow up to be abusers themselves. However, in Luther's (much earlier) account of his childhood, he doesn't mention that sort of abuse at all; so I really can't be sure. (Luther's anger with his father seems to be more a result of his father impossible-to-live-up-to expectations and inability to show love or affection in any recognizable fashion. But, of course, if there was abuse then Luther may simply have chosen not to talk about it.)

At this point Borut finds them again, and Reverend Martin steps in front of the crossbow bolt that was meant for his son. I’m sure this was meant to be a Meaningful Personal Sacrifice, but unfortunately under the circumstances it looks like a bad case of cold feet. (“Borut! My son the werewolf is coming to my church! Come quickly, so I can prevent you from killing him!”) By now the church is thoroughly on fire and starting to collapse, and Luther and Matt start to make for the exit, carrying the injured Reverend with them.

Their escape is foiled when someone calls Luther’s name from inside the burning building. At least, Luther thinks so; Narrator-Matt doesn’t hear or see anything of the sort. But Luther remains in the building while Matt carries Reverend Martin out.

And then the building collapses.

Now, a lot of this is necessary setup for the next scene - Author-Matt is creating a point of complete crisis to precede the inevitable (in Christian fiction) moment of redemption. But I wonder if it might not have made more sense to set it up another way. Borut needs to be present, but having Reverend Martin call the hunter in strains my ability to suspend disbelief. (Seriously, how do you even have that conversation? "Borut, I want you to kill my son. This will be a powerful lesson for him, and I hope he will profit by it.")

Clarissa, by contrast, could reasonably be presented as fearing that - after their last confrontation - her estranged husband might hurt or kill her. Plus, she's apparently convinced that the only cure for lycanthropy is death. So having her tell Borut where/how to find Luther would actually make more sense. It would also provide more support for Narrator-Matt's earlier impression that Clarissa was, in some sense, out to get Luther. Admittedly, that would change some elements of the epilogue, but not irreparably (I think).

Having the church on fire is also necessary (plot-wise), but the setup for that bothered me less. I mean, churches simply don't light their sanctuaries with hundreds and hundreds of candles, especially when there's no service taking place and the building is all but empty - but the idea of Narrator-Matt knocking over a candelabra and setting the place on fire is certainly in character (for both Narrator-Matt and the book overall). And in a book where monsters exist and Jesus will make a personal appearance, it's easy enough to see it as a Deus Ex Machina orchestrated by the supernatural elements within this setting.

'Tis the season!

2011-12-05T11:01:00.000-06:00

I'm thinking of starting a collection. Now, some people might consider stamps, or rare books, or art. Me, I'm thinking brains. In jars. I'll take them from the people who have decided that the holiday season excuses them from driving with even a bare minimum of safety and courtesy.

This, by the way, is why I should never be given Vast Supernatural Powers. (Or psychic abilities. Or a Power Ring. Or super soldier serum. Etc.)

Deconstruction: Night of the Living Dead Christian 16

2011-12-05T08:41:00.000-06:00

Werewolf vs. werewolf hunter: BRAWL!

Welcome to the detailed (and, unfortunately, spoiler-rich) review of Night of the Living Dead Christian. For a briefer review that doesn't give anything away, read the main review. If you're curious, here's a discussion of why I'm doing this.

This is a rather long bit of reaction, so I'm breaking it up into sections. Hopefully that will allow for more bite-sized discussions. So, now that you've all been fairly warned, we'll pick up the deconstruction after the jump:

Right, so: Luther is a werewolf. He wants to be free of this curse. His friend Matt (the narrator) is helping him. They have gone to visit Luther's father, a minister, who was able to help one of Narrator-Matt's friends (a vampire). Luther is unable to untangle his current goal from his personal issues with his father, and winds up pummeling the minister and demanding a solution for what's missing from his life.

At this point Borut, the monster-hunter, makes an explosive entrance. How did he get here? Reverend Martin called him. Luther, however, is not exactly helpless: he has the pistol that his wife left at his house. Borut and Luther now begin an epic battle through the church,and Reverend Martin asks Narrator-Matt to help his son. This seems really, really NFBSKing odd coming from the man who called out the monster-hunter in the first place, but Matt calls 9-1-1 and follows the rampaging pair into the sanctuary.

Borut is in the sanctuary, which is lit “with thousands of candles” because apparently Lutheran churches have budgets like that? Or maybe Reverend Martin just doesn’t hold with this newfangled electricity? Or something? (Sorry, this particular Hollywood-ism is a pet peeve of mine - candles are expensive. Electricity is cheaper and safer, which is why pretty much everyone in real life relies on it instead.)

Anyway, the battle continues, and Borut stabs Luther with a knife. Narrator-Matt intervenes and pulls Borut off Luther, and during the struggle they manage to knock over a candelabra and set one of the pews on fire. (Apparently they have cloth covers, and no fireproofing whatsoever. Possibly even some sort of anti-fireproofing, in fact.) Matt attempts to put the fire out, and only makes it worse.

So: the building is on fire, there’s a werewolf hunter running amok, and Luther has taken a rather serious knife wound. Feeling that he’d prefer to die by fire than at Borut’s hand, Luther decides to hide under the stage. Why he wants Matt to come with him is an open question; it seems like if they really were friends, Luther would want Matt to get out of the burning building.

And then Reverend Martin comes to their aid - or, well, maybe that overstating the case. He tries to coax Luther out from under the stage. He points out that Luther has friends who love him - and that those friends are the church, too. And Narrator-Matt finally manages to say something useful about his experience of Christianity: “They are the church, also. They’re broken and ridiculous and possibly insane, but they love you, Luther.”

I like this. I really like this. Nearly all of my favorite Christian writing embraces this idea that grace and salvation have nothing whatsoever to do with perfection. A lot of it seems to be written in reaction to the strange idea that Christians are expected to be, or to become, perfect - an idea which I’m pretty sure is no part of the messages in the Bible.

Luther objects, of course. Ignoring the question of his friends, and the implications of their love, he demands to know how God could possibly love someone like him. He asks why God would be willing to sacrifice Himself for someone like him.

Reverend responds with possibly the most sensible thing that he’s said so far: “My son. When someone says he loves you, you need not always ask why. Sometimes it is enough to know that he does.”

But Luther isn’t quite ready to hear this, it seems. He responds by pointing out that his father called the werewolf hunter to come kill him... which Luther (rightly, I’d say) doesn’t exactly interpret as a sign of love.

Not pedantic - precise!

2011-12-02T12:15:00.001-06:00

Let's be perfectly clear about this. I am not pedantic. I'm precise.

True, I'm very careful to find exactly the right words to express every nuance of my thoughts. And it's important to make sure that I address every single point relevant to the topic at hand. Sure, maybe that requires using footnotes[1] from time to time, but there's nothing pedantic about that. Footnotes are an easy way of making sure that you include everything without losing track of the main focus of your topic. They're a sign of organization, not pedantry.

And yes, as a matter of fact, it is important to address every little factual inaccuracy, even if the intended meaning is perfectly clear. Accuracy matters, after all. Plus, you never know when a particular distinction, however subtle or unimportant in its current context, might become an issue of vital importance in some other setting. So clearly it's best to correct these issues as early as possible.

I'm not pedantic; I'm precise. That's all there is to it, really.[2]

[1] This didn't require a footnote.

[2] Okay, maybe not. I'd also like to remind you that I have opinions.

Deconstruction: Night of the Living Dead Christian 15

2011-12-02T08:39:00.000-06:00

Luther... I am your father... Search your feelings. You know it to be true.

Welcome to the detailed (and, unfortunately, spoiler-rich) review of Night of the Living Dead Christian. For a briefer review that doesn't give anything away, read the main review. If you're curious, here's a discussion of why I'm doing this.

This is a rather long bit of reaction, so I'm breaking it up into sections. Hopefully that will allow for more bite-sized discussions. So, now that you've all been fairly warned, we'll pick up the deconstruction after the jump:

We're nearing the end of the book, and I'm honestly not sure how to recap everything up to this point. Here's what you need to know if you haven't been following along: Luther is a werewolf. He wants to be free of his curse. After trying various other things, he agrees to consult his father, Reverend Martin, a Lutheran minister. Luther is accompanied by his friend, Matt Mikalatos, who is trying to help him.

This brings us to a new chapter (22), which opens with a description of the church. Narrator-Matt goes in first, to lay the groundwork with Reverend Martin. Reverend Martin, interestingly, has a wolf pelt on the wall over his desk. He agrees to give his son a strictly professional meeting - no family interactions, no personal stuff - and Narrator-Matt goes outside to fetch Luther. Luther asks Matt to accompany him, which seems like a good idea since Luther can’t even approach the church without starting to wolf out.

And, of course, once he’s in his father’s office, Luther immediate violates the agreement and goes straight into listing his personal grievances. Reverend Martin acknowledges the complaints, but steers the conversation back to the central question: what is it that Luther wants from him? Luther tells him that he wants to be released from his curse, and Reverend Martin tells him that ~~he’s always had the means to go home - just click his heels together and~~ he already knows what to do: “Believe in the Lord Jesus Christ and you will be saved.”

Luther responds that he has never seen a Christianity that actually improves people (a view for which I have considerable sympathy). Reverend Martin tells Luther that he is speaking in meaningless generalities (which seems to me a somewhat odd criticism), and Luther responds by correcting his earlier observation: he says that most Christians “are living lives indistinguishable [from those of unbelievers] except for the insufferable arrogance that comes from thinking they know the answer to spiritual questions that others around them have gotten wrong.” Reverend Martin notes that it sounds like Luther is accusing him of this, and Luther replies that of course he is. Reverend Martin starts to apologize, and Luther loses control completely: he starts pummeling his father and yelling that he doesn’t want apologies, he wants something that is missing from his life.

I have mixed feelings about this last bit. On the one hand, it seems perfectly in character for Luther as an individual. On the other hand, it also plays to the common misconception that non-Christians are missing out, that whether we know it or not, we have a "God-shaped hole in our lives." Let me be perfectly clear: I don't think that's the book's message at all. But I suspect that a lot of the target audience is going to read it that way, and that bothers me. But, well... A) It is in character for Luther, here; and B) offhand, I can't see any way that author-Matt could have addressed it, particularly at this point in the narrative. So this isn't really a complaint about the book, this is just me voicing some related concerns.

Deconstruction: Night of the Living Dead Christian 14

2011-12-01T10:00:00.001-06:00

The Clockwork Project

Welcome to the detailed (and, unfortunately, spoiler-rich) review of Night of the Living Dead Christian. For a briefer review that doesn't give anything away, read the main review. If you're curious, here's a discussion of why I'm doing this.

This is a rather long bit of reaction, so I'm breaking it up into sections. Hopefully that will allow for more bite-sized discussions. So, now that you've all been fairly warned, we'll pick up the deconstruction after the jump:

Quick recap: Luther Martin, a werewolf, has been working with his neighbor (and the primary narrator of the story) Matt Mikalatos to find a cure for his condition. Also working with them are the Mad Scientist, Dr. Culbetron, and his assistant the Hibbs 3000, an android. The morning after a disastrous confrontation between Luther and his estranged wife Clarissa, Narrator-Matt drops by Luther's house to see how he's doing, and takes him to the Culbetron/Hibbs secret lair. Perhaps science can help where therapy has failed?

Dr. Culbetron takes Luther and Narrator-Matt down into his (well, and Hibbs’) secret lair, where they try to help Luther by activating the Clockwork Project. The Clockwork Project is their attempt to create robotic versions of famous historical figures. They only have enough power to run one at a time, and Luther immediately asks to speak to Clockwork Jesus.

Clockwork Jesus has been loaded with “every known translation” of the Bible, and Luther and Narrator-Matt immediately set to arguing over which one they should use. This continues until Hibbs, in a fit of pique, sets the robot to speak in the original Greek. (This would probably have been even funnier to me if I’d grown up around the sort of people who argued over which is the “correct” translation of the Bible.) We also get a hint, in this exchange, that the Hibbs 3000 may not actually be a robot - excuse me, “android” - as he consistently claims to be.

So Luther asks Clockwork Jesus some questions, and he gets some Bible-answers. To be honest, I’m not entirely sure what to make of this section. There’s some discussion of Faith vs. Works; and whether it’s better to emphasize the words of Jesus, or assume that everything in the Bible is equally important. If there’s an overall point to take away from this, it seems to be that the answers you get from the Bible depend very much on the questions you ask, and that people tend to reject answers they don’t like or don’t agree with. (At least, Narrator-Matt does this at several points in the dialogue.)

Culbetron then suggests that they check another of his projects, which involves trying to clone Jesus from a communion wafer. Narrator-Matt points out that that isn’t exactly the way Transubstantiation is supposed to work. I'm not entirely sure that he's right about that - the term does indicate that substance of the host becomes the body of Christ, but there's some... ambiguity... about what exactly that means. (By the way, if this was an allusion to the Christ Clone Trilogy, I can only say: well played, sir.)

Luther, who seems to be fed up with these dead ends, decides that it’s finally time to go see his father (the minister, who apparently was able to help the vampire Lara).

I don't really have a lot to criticize here; this section was pretty fun to read. And while Narrator-Matt seems curiously... coy? uncertain? ...about his own views of/experience with Christianity, that's at least consistent with the way he's behaved throughout the book so far. And it's nice to see Luther finally try something that he's been told can actually help - not that he hasn't been given plenty of motivation for exhausting all other possibilities first.

Who needs electricity?

2011-11-30T22:12:00.001-06:00

It turns out that a two-hour power outage will do wonders to focus one's attention on the end of the world story that one is attempting to work on.

Fortunately, the laptop has more than enough battery to cope.

Deconstruction: Night of the Living Dead Christian 13

2011-11-30T12:08:00.000-06:00

Reflecting on the fight...

Welcome to the detailed (and, unfortunately, spoiler-rich) review of Night of the Living Dead Christian. For a briefer review that doesn't give anything away, read the main review. If you're curious, here's a discussion of why I'm doing this.

This is a rather long bit of reaction, so I'm breaking it up into sections. Hopefully that will allow for more bite-sized discussions. So, now that you've all been fairly warned, we'll pick up the deconstruction after the jump:

If you're coming in late, it's probably best to start at the beginning. Briefly, though: Luther Martin is a werewolf. Matt Mikalatos is his neighbor, who - along with the Mad Scientist Dr. Culbetron and his Android Assistant the Hibbs 3000 - has discovered the truth of Luther's condition. Luther is seeking a cure, and Matt (etc.) is/are trying to help him. Having attempted to master his abusive/wolfy nature, Luther has met with his ex-wife Clarissa; whereupon he immediately lost his temper. Luther then gets a brief chapter to reflect on his sins.

Returning to the the main portion of the narrative - i.e., Matt's narration - we find Matt packing his children off to school. Hibbs (the android) joins him as he's walking back, and hands him a map to the Hibbs-and-Culbetron Secret Lair, which Narrator-Matt imagines as looking very much like the Bat Cave[1]. Narrator-Matt collects Luther, who is moping (and cleaning up the things that got broken the previous evening).

While they're talking, Narrator-Matt reflects on the fact that Luther has (somehow) become his friend. He then considers the events of the night before: "I felt bad for the way his wife had treated him the night before, even though he deserved it and probably worse. But still, he had invited her to the house in good faith, wanting to show her that he had made steps toward health, and she had purposely torn him apart."

This is... wrong.

What we're being told here is at odds with what we've just been shown. I'd argue that, in fact, it's incompatible with the confrontation that Narrator-Matt just showed us. In the scene, Clarissa was the one who came in good faith. Luther might have wanted "to show her that he had made steps toward health," but he hadn't actually made those steps. And since he asked Narrator-Matt to hang around and help him keep control, it's pretty clear that he knew it. Clarissa came because Luther asked - making her, rather than him, the one who was acting in good faith. The worst that could be said of her behavior was that she took smart, fully-justified precautions; at no point did she tear Luther apart, purposely or otherwise. She arrived, he flipped out, and she rightly A) defended herself, and B) pointed out that in fact Luther hadn't changed at all.

Narrator-Matt then reflects a bit on how much he wants to explain that Christianity doesn't have to be zombified, that it can be a living belief that could truly change Luther. He does not, however, invite Luther to attend his own church, or even bother to share his own view of Christianity or his experiences with it. Even given the quirky and farcical nature of the story, this doesn't make a lot of sense.[2] But they head over to Dr. Culbetron's Secret Lair, which appears to be located inside an ice cream store.

So, to summarize: this entire section basically left me shaking my head and wondering if the author and I were actually reading the same book. (Later note: actually, to some extent it seems to have been the case that we weren't; but that's outside the scope of this deconstruction. It's made for some interesting discussion of authorial intent, technical execution, and reader reactions - and how the three interact - in the comments on the posts, though.)

[1] This was one of those bits of incidental humor that really struck me as funny.

[2] The references to Matt Mikalatos' previous book seem to indicate that his experience of Christianity involves a talking donkey, so maybe it's for the best if he doesn't try to take Luther down that path. But it's unclear from this book whether that, or something else, is Narrator-Matt's reason for not sharing his own Christianity. In this book, the idea apparently doesn't occur to him at all.

Parenthood: The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly

2011-11-30T08:07:00.000-06:00

The Good: Secondborn tried to put on my glasses. This was funny. They're about twice the size of his face. This was also basically harmless, as he managed it without breaking anything or even bending the frames.

The Bad: His idea of "put on Daddy's glasses" involves grabbing them by the lenses and wrestling them into place. So, y'know, fingerprints. Everywhere.

The Ugly: Secondborn had just finished eating a large meal of Honey-Seared Chicken. So there weren't just fingerprints on the lenses, there were great, slimy, sticky fingerprints on the lenses.

I have to applaud his effort, really. I mean, most kids are naturally messy, but this was a whole new level of "smeared beyond any possible use." Fortunately, I don't actually require my glasses in order to drive. And it wasn't terribly hard to clean, once I got to the cleaning supplies. And it was entirely too cute to be annoying.

Am I an adult yet?

2011-11-29T10:11:00.000-06:00

Over at Forever in Hell, Personal Failure has asked if anyone out there feels like an adult, or if we're all pretty much faking it.

I'm... ambivalent.

I mean, I have a job, and I've managed to remain employed at the same place for ten years now, so in that sense I think I'm an adult. I'm married (arguably re-married), and we mostly don't get into fights over stupid stuff...

Well, okay, there was that one argument in Target, with "They're golden dreams" on her side, and "Red, Gold, and Green" on my side - she insisted that the lyrics made more sense in her version, but I stayed firm on the point that nevertheless those weren't the words that Boy George had actually written.

But, really, aside from that one incident, we don't fight much and we work together very well; that feels like being an adult.

And then there's being a parent. My parents didn't raise children, exactly. It was more like they raised future adults, and I'm trying to do the same thing with my kids. And that means taking their thoughts, questions, and concerns seriously; it means expecting them to act responsibly, and (within reason) trusting them to make their own decisions.

On the other hand, I'm thrilled to have kids because now I don't look so weird when I buy toys, or watch superhero movies, or play video games. I still write stories about unlikely heroes who discover powerful magic swords and go off to save the world. I was completely undone - like, reduced to helpless sobbing - by the ending of Astro Boy. I remain grievously disappointed that my mutant power still hasn't manifested (at age 38 - clearly I'm just a late bloomer).

So I don't know. I don't think being an adult means what I used to think it meant. It doesn't mean knowing what you're doing all the time. I don't think it means being serious and sober all the time. I don't think it even means being responsible, beyond whatever is strictly necessary. On the other hand, I think it does mean having a good, working idea of what is strictly necessary. I think it means understanding what's important, and worth fighting for/over; and learning to ignore or not worry too much about the things that aren't important or that you can't help/do/fix. I think it means learning that you aren't the only important person in the world.

Deconstruction: Night of the Living Dead Christian 12

2011-11-28T08:34:00.000-06:00

The monster in the mirror...

Welcome to the detailed (and, unfortunately, spoiler-rich) review of Night of the Living Dead Christian. For a briefer review that doesn't give anything away, read the main review. If you're curious, here's a discussion of why I'm doing this.

This is a rather long bit of reaction, so I'm breaking it up into sections. Hopefully that will allow for more bite-sized discussions. So, now that you've all been fairly warned, we'll pick up the deconstruction after the jump:

Catching up: Our narrator, Matt Mikalatos, has discovered a werewolf in his neighborhood. The werewolf's name is Luther, and Luther is trying to rid himself of the curse of lycanthropy. Luther has just decided to embrace his wolf-nature, apparently on the advice of his therapist, and invited his estranged wife Clarissa over to see the new, non-abusive version of Luther. Predictably, this did not go well: Luther lost his temper within half a minute of Clarissa's arrival. So now Clarissa is even more estranged and Luther is even more miserable.

At this point we once again switch over to Luther-as-narrator, reflecting - outside of the timeline of the story, presumably, since in the story he’s busy dashing around his yard and howling, and probably breaking things and contemplating suicide - on just how idiotic the idea of a loving God really is. Love, he says, is something that we feel towards deserving objects, and as a "wretched creature" he is completely undeserving. And he talks about striking his wife, and how he considers that unforgivable, and how he enjoyed doing it. And at this point, Luther's monologue turns... strange.

"No doubt you recoil from these frank admissions," he says, "but I suspect you recoil because you recognize them and have buried your own similar stories too deeply to acknowledge me as a mirror."

I said earlier that I think that Luther's narrations are meant to be the philosophical, reflective portions of the text, and as such they aspire to - but fall short of - a more elevated voice. This would be Exhibit A to support that view. And even Author-Matt seems to recognize that his audience isn't going to be immediately sold on this The-Evil-In-Me-Is-The-Evil-In-Everybody idea, because his very next sentence is, "Not to say that you desire to strike your spouse, or even that you have a spouse." He then goes on to list other possibilities: theft, vampiric one-night stands(?), playing politics at work, gossip.

And for me, at least, it just isn’t convincing. Gossip can be harmful. Theft can be harmful. But it isn't the sort of direct, overt harm that hitting someone - spouse or not - can be. In practice, people recognize kinds and degrees of evil. Luther's evil is a mirror for me in much the same way that a stick figure is a drawing of me; that's as far as it goes.

For me - and I suspect for Geds as well - Luther’s insistence that he is a mirror for the readers’ darker selves is precisely what brings to mind the idea that “all sins are equal in the eyes of God.” Because without the assumption that all sins are equivalent, or at least similar in some fairly specific way, the assertion makes no sense.

Luther then returns to the idea of a loving God. If we are, in fact, "totally depraved," so that anything good we do must come from God's loving influence, why would any halfway sensible deity bother to exert that influence on our horrible behalf? And, of course, if we're all unworthy of love, then love itself is an illusion.

I'm not entirely sure where to start unpacking this. It presumes that there must be either an all-powerful, solitary deity, or else nothing; it presumes that our imperfections render us unworthy of love; it assumes that all of our natural impulses are base, selfish, and destructive. But perhaps it's best (and certainly easiest) to read this not so much as a serious argument, but rather as a reflection of Luther feeling sorry for himself. (Later note: given the epilogue, I think it’s also outlining a Christian view of human nature that the book is intended to argue against, at least in part.)

National Novel Writing Month

2011-11-27T21:59:00.000-06:00

Here's why I don't participate in NaNoWriMo. I just went back to work on one of my projects. It's a book-length idea. Probably the first in a series, actually. (I've talked about it before - it's the "other project" mentioned in this post.)

I have eight pages done. So, y'know, so far, so good. Especially since I started writing it towards the end of October...

...2009.

No, that's not depressing AT ALL.

But you know what? I'm not going to sit here and tell you why it takes absolutely bloody forever to get any writing projects done. Instead, I'm going to take the time I have now, and see if I can at least fill page nine.

So what about you? Working on anything for NaNoWriMo? Got any other projects - writing, artistic, crafty - that you'd like to talk about? Comments are open.

Another request from the search logs

2011-11-25T09:02:00.000-06:00

I've noted before that people find this blog through a variety of improbable and surprising search terms. Often, I suspect, they're disappointed: for one reason or another, what's actually here isn't quite what they were looking for. And I'm very sure that was the case in our most recent example, who was searching for "spider bondage sexy art".

I say this because I have exactly one spider picture on this blog, and it isn't sexy. But, as Bigweld says, "See a need, fill a need." And here at Mock Ramblings, we are all about helping out our fellow spider fetishists, as well as anyone else who happens along. So, in the spirit of brotherhood and solidarity, I offer you Spider Bondage Sexy Art:

That's right, ladies and gentlemen: it's a spider in a ball gag. I'll admit, it's an unusual lifestyle choice for an arachnid, but hey - I don't judge.

So, whoever-you-were, there you go: spider bondage sexy art. No, really, it's fine; you can thank me later.

Thanksgiving schedule

2011-11-23T13:13:00.001-06:00

I don't expect to be on the computer this weekend. At least, not very much.

I do have one story idea, but I doubt I'll be able to write it. If I manage it, it'll go up tomorrow (Thanksgiving) around mid-morning. Otherwise, it's going to be pretty quiet around here until at least Monday.

So... consider this an open thread. Possible topics include:

Super heroes
Monsters
How you're preparing for the zombie apocalypse
Whether or not anyone would even notice the zombie apocalypse if it happened during the Black Friday sales
Whether Dr. Who could successfully prevent Gojira from destroying Tokyo
Thanksgiving and/or what you're thankful for
Were-turkeys vs. zombie elves: who wins?

Deconstruction: Night of the Living Dead Christian 11

2011-11-23T07:53:00.002-06:00

The furry-ous showdown...

Welcome to the detailed (and, unfortunately, spoiler-rich) review of Night of the Living Dead Christian. For a briefer review that doesn't give anything away, read the main review. If you're curious, here's a discussion of why I'm doing this.

This is a rather long bit of reaction, so I'm breaking it up into sections. Hopefully that will allow for more bite-sized discussions. So, now that you've all been fairly warned, we'll pick up the deconstruction after the jump:

To recap: as part of his ongoing quest to cure his lycanthropy, Luther has gone to see a psychologist. She has convinced him that he needs to embrace his wolf-side, and train it not to be violent. Luther feels that he has accomplished this - at least, he seems to, since he has invited his estranged wife Clarissa to come and see the new, improved Luther.

This brings us to the confrontation between Luther and Clarissa. Clarissa has had the intelligence and foresight to bring along a revolver loaded with silver bullets, and to leave behind their daughter (whom Luther had asked her to bring). Narrator-Matt is there also; both Luther and Clarissa ask him to stay so he can help keep Luther in line.

Luther, of course, finds it almost impossible to maintain control while talking to his wife - especially when he learns that Clarissa has been talking with a minister about their problems. And when Matt tries to intervene, Luther clocks him. At which point Luther finds himself in a werewolf rage, but looking down the barrel of Clarissa's gun while she explains that she left their daughter with Luther's father, the Lutheran minister, whom Luther hates. (I'll note again that against all logic and probability, there only appear to be two churches available to the characters in this story.) Luther flips out, Narrator-Matt restrains him, and Clarissa points out - rightly - that Luther hasn't changed at all. She adds, "Here's the cure. But you're not man enough to take it," then leaves her gun full of silver bullets on the table and walks out.

Narrator-Matt gets clawed up a bit in the ensuing scuffle, which seems noteworthy mainly because we haven't much discussed how someone becomes a werewolf. Presumably it isn't simply from being bitten or clawed by a werewolf, since Luther indicates that he's been one for as long as he can remember. More likely Luther is a werewolf for the same reason that Eustace became a dragon in The Voyage of the Dawn Treader: he'd given in to his baser impulses so much that his physical persona changed to reflect them. But if so, this marks a pretty serious difference in the way lycanthropy and vampirism work within this particular story; Lara says pretty clearly that you have to have had your blood drunk in order to become a vampire. (Later note: this won’t be the only difference we find, either.)

Meanwhile, Narrator-Matt goes back home, Clarissa (Luther’s wife) is gone again, and Luther seems to be hitting what the Twelve Step Programs refer to as "rock bottom."

I don't know where they get it, really

2011-11-22T19:44:00.000-06:00

So Firstborn - who is five - threw one of his toys inside the house tonight. This is a direct violation of one of our long-standing rules, plus we'd just warned him not to. So we took it away.

He ran off to his room yelling, "Evil-evil-evil-evil-evil-evil-evil-evil-evil-evil-evil-evil-evil-evil-evil-evil!"

I managed to get a pillow over my face before I burst out laughing. I'm pretty sure he wouldn't have appreciated that.

A bit later he got into a sort of snit and essentially ran over his little brother (who's about nineteen months old - call it a year and a half). So Secondborn fell down, and I think got the wind knocked out of him. And we decided, at about seven o'clock in the evening, that it was clearly time for bed.

Secondborn got a shower first, then got put in his bed. He seems to be okay; he cried a bit and then went to sleep.

Firstborn got sent to his room, and put in his sleeping clothes, and then he had his teeth brushed. He told us he was feeling bad - which he probably is, he's almost never this careless unless he's sick or getting sick. After lying in bed in the dark for a while, he asked if he could have a story. I told him that it was bedtime, and that he was not getting a story tonight, and that this was because he was in trouble for running over his brother.

Now he's laying on his bed and moaning. "I am doomed. Doomed. I do not care, I am doomed." And just a moment ago: "I was right. I am doomed. Totally right: doomed."

He is so melodramatic. I don't know where he gets it from. It's all very mysterious, really.

Random thoughts on parenting

2011-11-22T08:20:00.002-06:00

Firstborn is about five and half years old now. Secondborn is about nineteen months old - call it a year and a half. And even taking those ages into account, they're very different children.

The developmental stuff is pretty close. Firstborn is learning to read and do basic math, and doesn't seem to have any problems with either subject. Secondborn can say a handful of words, and just learned to hop in a way that gets both feet of the ground. He understands a startling amount of English, he just hasn't figured out how to produce the words himself. This is, I think, roughly where his older brother was at the same age.

But there are some noteworthy differences. Firstborn got his teeth relatively early; Secondborn's teeth are still coming in. Despite this, Secondborn has been eating grown-up food, exclusively, for months now. All the Stage 1 mush, the Stage 3 hot-dogs-in-slime that Firstborn was still eating at two-and-half years old? Secondborn won't touch them.

Secondborn is vastly more interested in vehicles than Firstborn ever was (or is now, for that matter). He rides the tricycles around at my parents' house, which Firstborn never did. And he's surprisingly adept at it: he can stop within two inches of my ankle, and he does. He plays with (and carries around) the Hotwheels cars - which were only mildly and briefly interesting to Firstborn.

In geek terms: Firstborn is the Transformers kid. He wants to be the giant robot that turns into other things. Secondborn is the Robotech kid: he wants to drive the giant robot that turns into other things.

Time Wasting Survey: Time Machine

2011-11-21T16:10:00.000-06:00

It's pretty quiet, but I'm too tired to focus on writing anything actually useful. So I turn to you, gentle readers, for answers to the most important question of this century[1]:

What's the first thing you would do if you created a working time machine?

[1] Or any century, really.

Deconstruction: Night of the Living Dead Christian 10

2011-11-21T08:29:00.000-06:00

It's the psychology of the thing...

Welcome to the detailed (and, unfortunately, spoiler-rich) review of Night of the Living Dead Christian. For a briefer review that doesn't give anything away, read the main review. If you're curious, here's a discussion of why I'm doing this.

This is a rather long bit of reaction, so I'm breaking it up into sections. Hopefully that will allow for more bite-sized discussions. So, now that you've all been fairly warned, we'll pick up the deconstruction after the jump:

The short version: Narrator-Matt has discovered various odd people in his neighborhood. One of them is a werewolf named Luther. Along with the Mad Scientist Dr. Culbetron and the Hibbs 3000 android, they are trying to help Luther find a cure for his condition. In the course of doing so, they have stopped to talk to Lara, Matt's next door ~~vampire~~ neighbor, who has recommended a church that is helping her regain her humanity. Luther has a history with this church and refuses to go, so they try a psychologist instead; and having dropped him off there, Narrator-Matt returns to his neighborhood and talks some more with Lara about vampirism. (If you're still lost, it might be a good idea to go back and start at the beginning.)

Following this conversation, Narrator-Matt walks past his own house (again, absentee father) and goes to check on Luther. Luther greets him at the door in full-on Wolfman mode: neatly dressed and calm, but furry and with all his fangs and claws on display. He explains that the therapist has convinced him that he can't stop being a werewolf, so he just has to accept it and use behavioral training to avoid the really bad parts of werewolf behavior. Which... just... no.

I'm a little unsure of the timing here, because it sure looks like Narrator-Matt dropped Luther off with the Psychologist, had a brief conversation about vampires with Lara, and then walked over to Luther's house - a timeline that probably wouldn't even allow Luther to finish a single session and get back home. Luther, however, is acting like he's been in therapy for quite a while, and apparently he's had time to call his wife and invite her over to see the new, improved, unabashedly-wolfy Luther. But that's comparatively minor. Here's my main issue:

...I just can't read these sections as anything other than rote bashing of mental health professionals - they do strange and silly things to learn about their patients, they think they know more than they do, and their recommendations are useless if not completely lunatic. Sure, there's a token protest by Narrator-Matt earlier in the book - he's known people who have been helped by therapy, he even has friends who are psychologists - but it comes off as a sort of boilerplate attempt at plausible deniability. (You've probably heard variations of it yourself: "I'm not a racist. Some of my best friends are black. But if you've seen how those people live...")

To be fair, the book is supposed to be humorous, and Narrator-Matt has (for reasons best known to himself) taken Luther to a psychologist that Matt himself doesn't particularly like and didn't find particularly helpful. That doesn't really excuse the depiction, though, because if this is an attempt at humor, it's a sort of humor that relies on a rather prejudiced caricature of mental health professionals. It may actually be more charitable to assume that the author is trying to indicate that counseling might be okay for some people, but we know that Jesus is the only real solution to our problems - and that Author-Matt simply mangles it in the sales job. (Come to that, the two explanations are not mutually exclusive.)

These two section (this one, and the earlier one) together probably came closer than anything else to completely destroying the book for me. And I realize that I'm not pulling samples from the text to illustrate just how unkind the depiction really is (for example, I left out the part where Narrator-Matt describes his counselor as a [metaphorical] harpy) but if anyone wants to look at this in more detail we can do so in the comments.

Reflections on Communication

2011-11-20T14:02:00.001-06:00

Well, he's officially missing again. Not that the Watchers could be bother to tell little ol' me, of course. No, I got the word from our friend Billy, after my boyfriend failed to come home for three days in row. And I had to call them in order to find out.

In their defense, Billy and Crystal apparently assumed that I knew already. They were... "appalled" is a good word... that I hadn't been told. So the blame pretty much falls on the Watchers, or the Elders, and until I learn better, the woman who's supposed to be training my boyfriend: Kate.

This is Claire, of course, in case you hadn't picked that up already. You know, the Deranged Cultist's girlfriend. Or just the Deranged Girlfriend. The more I think about that, the more it seems to fit.

Anyway, apparently my boyfriend was watching this researcher - let's call him "Dr. Fine". Dr. Fine was trying to see if there was any sort of psychic connection to be found between his sleeping subjects: shared images, a collective unconscious, atavistic memories... stuff like that. Now, all those things exist - but most of the time, for most people, they're completely inaccessible. That's... a lot less true for a lot of my boyfriend's fellow cultists, apparently.

According to Billy, they decided to send my boyfriend in to take part of the research and find out more about what Dr. Fine was doing. They chose him because he doesn't have any of those dream connections. (That led me to wonder: the business with the Place Of Mists started as a series of dreams, so maybe they were wrong about that? I don't know. Maybe we'll find out. But that's something I can check, so I'll do that tonight.) Anyway, my boyfriend went to the sleep lab and joined the test subjects, and... something went wrong. About midway through the night, the bed was empty.

Crystal thinks that whatever Dr. Fine was doing interacted with the way that one of the Watchers was observing my boyfriend. She thinks so because while that Watcher is still around physically, he dropped into a deep coma at precisely the moment that my boyfriend disappeared.

Dr. Fine and his staff are panicking. They haven't actually reported that they lost one of their test subjects, but they've been working steadily to figure out what happened and how to fix it. I don't think much of their chances, but that's something at least. And the fact that they haven't told anyone else actually makes it easier for the Watchers, who also want to keep the whole thing secret.

I spoke to Kate, and she's pretty sure that my boyfriend is still alive. I get the impression that the Watchers might have been panicking some, too, because she said she should have called me in immediately - and she said it with that "I'm an idiot" tone in her voice. So I'm working with them, sort of, at a safe distance, and we're all trying to find out what happened.

I'll keep you posted.

Oh, right, I almost forgot: "Reflections of a Deranged Cultist" is a work of fiction. People don't really disappear just because they have the wrong sort of dreams. Promise.

Deconstruction: Night of the Living Dead Christian 9

2011-11-18T11:41:00.004-06:00

In which we return to the implications of vampirism...

Welcome to the detailed (and, unfortunately, spoiler-rich) review of Night of the Living Dead Christian. For a briefer review that doesn't give anything away, read the main review. If you're curious, here's a discussion of why I'm doing this.

This is a rather long bit of reaction, so I'm breaking it up into sections. Hopefully that will allow for more bite-sized discussions. So, now that you've all been fairly warned, we'll pick up the deconstruction after the jump:

Having left Luther with the counselor, Narrator-Matt returns to his neighborhood and resumes his conversation with Lara (the vampire). Lara talks more about vampirism, except that this time, well... She's talking about consumption, and taking without giving; philosophical generalities and open questions, in other words. This makes some sense in the context of the larger point that Author-Matt is trying to make with his monster-metaphors, but here inside the story... she's babbling. She’s speaking in generalities that having nothing whatsoever to do with her personal experience of vampirism as something that happens when you've had your blood drained so many times that you go out to drain some blood for yourself.

Her examples are so weirdly general that - for me, at least - they actually cross over from the topic of greed, and move into looking at the idea that everyone has to eat constantly in order to keep living. From that perspective, the vampiric need for blood isn't particularly monstrous or sinful; it's just a biological need, a reflection of the fact that in our world, living things are constantly consuming other living things. Basically, this section stretched the metaphor so far that I wound up in territory that I’m very sure the author never intended, where the vampires have good reasons to ask, “How is my thirst so very different from what you do? What makes me the bad guy, here?”

There's also some discussion of drinking-blood-and-living-forever aspect of vampirism as a sort of unholy inversion of Christ-shedding-His-blood-so-we-could-live-forever. This is actually rather well-worn ground for people who like to play with those sorts of ideas (see, for example, Matt Wagner's Grendel series for one treatment of it), but might very well be completely new to the book's target audience. The main difficulty is that as an explanation or illustration of vampirism, it doesn't really fit with Lara's experience of succumbing to the condition and trying to redeem herself from it.

[Redeem may not be the best choice of words, since Salvation is clearly a gift here, but she distinctly talks about turning away from her monstrous urges as an ongoing struggle. Keep that in mind, because we’ll be looking at it again later on. Meanwhile, on Monday, we'll talk about the role of psychology in Christian fiction. Or, well, the portrayal of the psychologist in this particular bit of Christian fiction, anyway.]

Put another log on the fire...

2011-11-18T09:22:00.000-06:00

Some of you, who don't recognize that title, probably think I'm about to talk about the weather. You can relax; I don't much care what the weather is doing. No, this is just a collection of songs that I'm playing at for my co-workers on this lovely this Friday morning. Enjoy!

How can that be a "choice"?

2011-11-17T13:50:00.001-06:00

So a while back, Former Conservative found a bunch of "gotcha!" questions on the topic of homosexuality courtesy of an organization called CARM - which is all I know about them, and all I want to know about them. Former Conservative has a stronger stomach than I do: he waded through the entire list of questions and responded to all of them.

In the process, FC also made fun of them. This is an entirely understandable response - in fact, I think it's just about the only sensible response to a list like that. These are not questions in the traditional sense of "a request for more information." They're accusations that happen to be made in an interrogative format for rhetorical effect. Not only that, they're easy enough to pick apart if you can stand to expose yourself that much prolonged, concentrated idiocy: they're based on easily refuted (and in some cases mind-numbingly stupid) assumptions.

The fellow who originally posted the list of "questions", one Matt Slick, apparently noticed that someone had refuted him. So he wrote a response. And now Former Conservative has ripped apart his response as well.

All of which is a long (and possibly unnecessary) prologue for an observation that I'd like to make. Because one of the abjectly stupid ideas that Matt Slick is championing is that homosexuality is a "choice". Matt Slick isn't the only person who thinks so, of course; it's a common refrain in the anti-QUILTBAG rhetoric. And, well, I just don't see how sexual attraction can be described as a "choice" in any meaningful sense of the word.

Here's the thing: I'm a heterosexual male, and I can't even control what sort of women I find attractive. Either I find someone attractive, or I don't. It's a reaction, not a choice. I could no more choose to find men attractive than I could choose to be sexually aroused by abstract art. As far as I know, that's how attraction works for more or less everybody. So why in the hell would you think that people who happen to be attracted to members of their own sex have chosen to do so?

And even if that were possible, who would choose to have attractions that make you an automatic target for teasing, bullying, and possible persecution from every stray bigot who happens by? In what world would that possibly make sense?

So, yeah. Matt Slick and his view of homosexuality can bite me.

Edited to add: ...And then on Facebook, someone posted a link to this video detailing the top five reasons why you should choose to be gay. Warning: really, really not safe for work. Or small children. Or anyone with a particularly delicate constitution. Contains swearing and skimpy outfits.

The Doom That Came To Hippo

2011-11-17T08:26:00.001-06:00

Being a hippopotamus is more perilous than you might think.

I was in English class. It must have been sixth grade, because I had Ms. Green for a teacher. Poor, poor Ms. Green. So, yeah, there I was, in sixth grade English class.

The thing is, I took sixth grade English in fifth grade. Then, for reasons that I’m not sure I ever completely understood, I took sixth grade English again in sixth grade. And I enjoyed it a lot more in fifth grade – not just because it was the first time I’d had it, but also because I’d liked that teacher much better than I liked Ms. Green.

Poor, poor Ms. Green.

So we came into the classroom, and we took our seats, and Ms. Green announced that we’d be doing some creative writing. And she handed out copies of a worksheet.

This was not a sixth-grade worksheet. It was, to my jaded sixth grade eyes, barely even a fourth grade worksheet. At the top was a fanciful drawing of a hippopotamus sitting in – and slightly overflowing – an old-fashioned bath tub. Beneath that was the writing assignment:

The hippo is stuck in the tub! How can we get him out?
And beneath that was a series a brief lines where we could write our answers. They’d even included a helpful writing prompt on the first line: Grease the hippo with Crisco! Just, y’know, to give you some idea of what kind of answers they were expecting.

To say I was insulted would be an understatement of epic proportions. I regarded this assignment with the profound and unshakable contempt of a twelve-year-old who has just been asked to do kid stuff. The sheer effrontery of it all left me speechless. This lèse-majesté I could not, would not forgive. And so I decided to express my... displeasure.

Poor, poor Ms. Green.

So I took a fresh sheet of paper from my desk. At the top, I copied over the assignment: “The hippo is stuck in the tub! How can we get him out?” I paused for a moment, to further consider this affront to my dignity.

And then I wrote the most violent, gory, horrific story that my twelve-year-old mind could produce. In the whole history of the world, no fictional hippopotamus has ever suffered as this hippo suffered – and all for the unforgivable crime of getting stuck in my bath tub. I enumerated the tools of his demise in loving detail: the vast array of martial arts weaponry, the gardening tools, the machine shop equipment. I described the feel of blades entering hippo flesh, the splut of impact, the gouts of blood and gobbets of flesh that littered the floor and splattered across the walls and ceiling. I explained the painstaking process of extracting the hippo from the tub, one organ at a time. It’s possible that I even included the hippo’s cries for mercy and last, desperate gasps for breath.

Poor, poor Ms. Green.

It was, quite simply, the most profoundly disturbing piece of writing that I was then capable of producing. It perfectly expressed my absolute contempt for the entire idea of that assignment. It sent - I thought - a very clear message that I expected never to be given such an abjectly stupid assignment ever again.

It might – just maybe possibly might - have gone a bit overboard.

Because the next thing I remember is my parents asking if I’d had trouble in English class. And then there were meetings. Meetings with Ms. Green. Meetings with the person in charge of fourth, fifth, and sixth grades. Meetings with the school counselor.

Everyone was relieved to hear that I was not, in fact, contemplating any sort of actual, real-world violence. They were rather less concerned about whether I was planning some sort of anti-hippopotamus rampage, but I reassured them about that too. This was before school shootings became a regular news item, so we didn’t have any No Tolerance policies to deal with, so once everyone was clear that I was just expressing my disgust with the in-class writing assignment, it was pretty much over. They didn’t even move me to a different English class, so the next day I was right back in my desk with Ms. Green.

Poor, poor Ms. Green.

Poor, poor hippopotamus.

Deconstruction: Night of the Living Dead Christian 8

2011-11-16T08:53:00.001-06:00

It's a small world and Luther doesn't like that church.

Welcome to the detailed (and, unfortunately, spoiler-rich) review of Night of the Living Dead Christian. For a briefer review that doesn't give anything away, read the main review. If you're curious, here's a discussion of why I'm doing this.

This is a rather long bit of reaction, so I'm breaking it up into sections. Hopefully that will allow for more bite-sized discussions. So, now that you've all been fairly warned, we'll pick up the deconstruction after the jump:

To recap: Narrator-Matt and his new friends, Dr. Culbetron the Mad Scientist and Hibbs 3000 the android, have discovered a werewolf in their neighborhood. They have decided to help the werewolf, Luther, seek a cure for his condition. To that end, they have stopped to talk to Narrator-Matt's other neighbor and old friend, Lara, who happens to be a vampire. Lara reveals that a cure is possible - difficult, but possible - and tells her story. They are interrupted by the arrival of the werewolf hunter, Borut, and Lara hands them a business card for the church/pastor who helped her find the path to redemption. She then holds back the werewolf hunter while the others escape.

All caught up now? Good.

Luther looks at the business card that Lara gave him and immediately refuses to go. The church, he explains, is his father's church - the same father who named him Luther Martin, who spent so much time trying to raise him as a proper Lutheran that he never managed to be a father, the father who condemned him for (and quite possibly caused, though that isn't ever said outright) his lycanthropy. Now, even bearing in mind that the book is meant to be a farce, the fact that the church that helped Lara happens to be run by Luther's father seems awfully contrived.

But, okay. Evidently we need to try a few other things before we return to the solution that we've been told actually works. Church is out; they decide to put Luther in counseling instead. Narrator-Matt hates counselors, owing to a bad experience in grade school; nevertheless he is seeing one, or has been seeing one, and despite his apparent lack of respect for the woman, he decides to take Luther to see her.

This brings me back to one of the recurring issues that I have with this book: it's a small, small world. (If you just heard Jiminy Cricket singing that, I can only apologize.) A sample of every conceivable kind of monster lives right there in Narrator-Matt's neighborhood. There are only two churches: the zombie church, and the one that Luther's father runs - both located within convenient driving distance of Matt's home. (If Narrator-Matt attends a third church, and it seems like he must, then he hasn't bothered to mention it - and apparently it doesn't occur to him to invite Luther to visit it.) The monster-hunter that's chasing Luther just happens to be the same one who once hunted Lara; possibly he's the only monster-hunter in the world, which is why he doesn't specialize in just one sort of monster? I don't know. But for a setting that could be a very big world indeed, it feels strangely claustrophobic.

So the entire crowd heads over to the psychologist's office. She agrees to see Luther, and rather high-handedly schedules an appointment for Robert the almost-zombie as well. Psychology doesn’t get a very charitable treatment in this book, but we’ll look at that a bit later - I want to come back to it after we've seen the second psych-related section.

Deconstruction: Night of the Living Dead Christian 7

2011-11-15T08:14:00.000-06:00

The vampire next door...

Welcome to the detailed (and, unfortunately, spoiler-rich) review of Night of the Living Dead Christian. For a briefer review that doesn't give anything away, read the main review. If you're curious, here's a discussion of why I'm doing this.

This is a rather long bit of reaction, so I'm breaking it up into sections. Hopefully that will allow for more bite-sized discussions. So, now that you've all been fairly warned, we'll pick up the deconstruction after the jump:

Two things happen at this point: first, Hibbs (android) and Culbetron (mad scientist) point out that Narrator-Matt's neighbor (and high school pal) Lara is a vampire, and might have something to contribute to their quest. This is news to Matt, but should have been pretty obvious to everyone else - readers included - from Lara's first appearance. Second, Matt's wife is leaving the house to buy Halloween costumes with the kids, and they give a pretty strong indication that Narrator-Matt isn't as involved with his family as he should be. As a plot point, this may actually be more important than the fact that Borut the werewolf-hunter has figured out who the werewolf is; Narrator-Matt’s wife Krista tells them that as well. The boys promptly abandon their search for a snack and head over to Lara's house, to see if the vampire knows anything that might help.

Lara, as it happens, knows Borut - and so immediately invites everyone inside. She then sits down to talk with Narrator-Matt and Luther the werewolf, revealing almost immediately that yes, there is a cure for vampirism. Before explaining it, she tells them a bit of her story: that her high-school boyfriend and later husband Jake was a vampire, that he didn't love her but only acted charming when he wanted something from her; that after years of him sucking the life from her, she started coping by becoming like him, and took to sucking the life from other people. It's not the same sort of abuse that Luther (apparently) inflicted on his own wife and daughter; Luther's abuse is never clearly described, but seems to be more violent-and-scary than draining-and-manipulative.

I'm not an expert in domestic abuse, but from what I do know that strikes me as a distinction without a difference - a difference in focus, maybe, but not in kind. Which makes it doubly odd when Luther repudiates Jake's behavior: the first time I read it he seemed to be saying that he would never do anything like that, when in fact doing things like is exactly the problem with his lycanthropy and the reason he wants to be cured. On a second reading, Luther seems to be saying that he would never go so far as to make his wife a werewolf like him, which makes a lot more sense. (It's still a difference of degree rather than type, but it's actually a very believable response coming from an abuser: "Well, yeah, but at least I'm not as bad as that." And Narrator-Matt rightly points out that he might say that now, but if his wife had stayed it was really just a matter of time before he crossed that line.)

So - and this is something that troubled me about the book - being a monster appears to be directly tied to spousal abuse. Luther lost his wife because his monstrosity caused him to abuse her; Lara became a monster because her boyfriend/husband abused her. Narrator-Matt keeps getting hints that he's a monster, too, and his wife and children have just warned him that he's very much absent from their lives. Admittedly, that pattern doesn't seem to hold for the zombies, so perhaps I should say instead that spousal abuse is associated with being a self-directed monster. But having Luther’s monstrosity and Lara’s monstrosity both be tied to abusive marriages seems to me to dilute the differences between the kinds of monsters.

This does put an interesting spin on some elements of vampire mythology, though. The fear of mirrors and sunlight is, in this milieu, essentially a result of a guilty conscience - they're ashamed to look in mirrors, and sunlight is far too revealing to be comfortable. Garlic doesn't affect them, which makes sense; why would it bother them? They're affected by crosses, because crosses are holy and they are sinful.

And basically, after an encounter in which Borut killed Jake the abusive vampire-husband, Lara went looking for a cure for her condition. She found a church, and spoke with the pastor, and slowly started recovering her humanity. At this point, Borut arrives at Lara's house, Lara hands Luther a business card for the church that helped her, and our heroes escape while Lara stays behind to hold off Borut - using her vampire powers, which she still possesses strongly enough to be immune to bullets.

That last bit is interesting, as it suggests that some of these curses - vampirism, lycanthropy - could become blessings if their more troublesome elements were tamed. ("Hey, it's a start, right? The goal, of course, is to be like you - the Daywalker! You got the best of both worlds, don't you? All our strengths... none of our weaknesses.") I'm not sure if this is a deliberate thematic point, though, or whether it's mainly there as a way to keep the action moving along in the proper direction. (Later note: now that I’ve finished the book, I’m pretty sure it’s the latter.)

Half a league onward!

2011-11-14T12:19:00.000-06:00

So, the software for the new site got installed at four-thirty this morning, and we started the training-people-and-importing-content session at nine o'clock. We're off and running... at least for now. The contractor is still tweaking the software as we go, so there's always the possibility that our new site will eat itself, but for the moment it's up and we have about sixteen people importing content from the old site. The ideas is that once they're comfortable with the process - well, and once the logins are working[1] - they can go back to their departments and continue importing their pages.

My job, at this point, is basically to circulate and talk them through it. Mostly, this has not been too hard. However, owing to the abysmal quality of what we ironically refer to as "air" here in the Dallas/Fort Worth Metroplex, I am also coping with a lot of sinus drainage. At this rate, by mid-afternoon I'll have lost my voice completely.[2]

We're definitely doing things, though. Oh, yes. Things of great and profound importance. Things that might even manage - yes, yes, it's a very slim chance, but it's there - might even manage not to implode spectacularly at some undisclosed future time. Chin up, stiff upper lip, and all that.

Was there a man dismay'd? Maybe one or two. But don't tell anybody, it would spoil our image.

[1] We don't actually have those set up. They were supposed to be able to import from our network, but that's... not working yet. So we have a temporary workaround. Which, again, may decide to eat itself as soon as they do try to import the network logins.

[2] There are not enough cough drops in the world to prevent this, though they certainly do help. Note to self: buy stock in Halls.

Deconstruction: Night of the Living Dead Christian 6

2011-11-14T07:44:00.002-06:00

A brief digression on snacks...

Welcome to the detailed (and, unfortunately, spoiler-rich) review of Night of the Living Dead Christian. For a briefer review that doesn't give anything away, read the main review. If you're curious, here's a discussion of why I'm doing this.

This is a rather long bit of reaction, so I'm breaking it up into sections. Hopefully that will allow for more bite-sized discussions. So, now that you've all been fairly warned, we'll pick up the deconstruction after the jump:

To recap: Our Heroes have escaped from Dr Bokor's Church of Zombies, and helped a member of that congregation begin to defect, thus adding a Recovering Zombie to their ranks.

We now hit a brief side-conversation about where the guys should go to get a snack. I'm not honestly sure how disturbed I should be by this. The gist of it is that as a group composed almost entirely of single males (and a token android), none of them can actually prepare food. This comes off as a bit sexist - apparently it's a woman's place to prepare food - but I've noted before that this sort of sexism isn't particularly flattering to the men, either: in the absence of their wives, apparently not one of them can so much as prepare scrambled eggs or macaroni and cheese. Since Narrator-Matt is the only one who still has his wife around, they decided to retire to his house.

I realize this is very short, but tomorrow's section is going to be quite long. So it's best to break this off here, I think. I'd say more about it, but again I'm not entirely sure how to react to it.

Climbing the avalanche

2011-11-11T10:13:00.001-06:00

I'd meant to put up another post today - maybe something on the topic of Lying With Facts, which I've been meaning to write for a while - but we've officially started installing the new website. For those coming in late (which is probably everyone, now that I think about it), we're undertaking a complete redesign of our primary website: moving it to a new server, moving to new Content Management software, moving to a completely new look and layout.

So far, it's going exactly as well as I expected. (I have that Dilbert strip posted on the wall of my cubicle. It's been there since it was published. It turns out that you actually can tell the future from comic strips, using a mystic art known as Graphispication, and this is my first successful prediction.)

On Monday we're scheduled to start moving content across from the old server to the new server. That, of course, presupposed that the installation of the software for the new site got finished yesterday (Thursday). It's now midmorning on Friday. We're still working out the bugs in the install. Even assuming it gets finished today, we will have no time to test it before Monday. You see where this is going, right? I feel compelled to point out that according to the original timeline for the project, the new site was supposed to go live back in February of this year.

So consider this an open thread. Suggested topics include computer problems, doomed and/or hellish projects at work, and whether or not it's moral to actively hope that zombies, plague, or soul-devouringly-horrible Lovecraftian beasties will intervene to make the whole project unnecessary.

Deconstruction: Night of the Living Dead Christian 5

2011-11-10T08:19:00.024-06:00

In which the captives try to define Christianity and go off to visit a church.

Welcome to the detailed (and, unfortunately, spoiler-rich) review of Night of the Living Dead Christian. For a briefer review that doesn't give anything away, read the main review. If you're curious, here's a discussion of why I'm doing this.

This is a rather long bit of reaction, so I'm breaking it up into sections. Hopefully that will allow for more bite-sized discussions. So, now that you've all been fairly warned, we'll pick up the deconstruction after the jump:

At this point in the story, Narrator-Matt and his partners (the Mad Scientist Dr. Culbetron and the Hibbs 3000 android) have been captured by the werewolf, Luther Martin, whom they had hoped to capture themselves. Luther has revealed that he recognized Narrator-Matt as the author of a Christian novel, and hopes that Matt will explain to him about "the transformative effect of being a follower of Jesus" - in other words, whether Christianity can cure his lycanthropy. At that point, I stopped to discuss the presence of Matt Mikalatos the author, and Matt Mikalatos the character, and how that shared identity affected the story.

So now, back to the text. Luther insists that he is a Lutheran, but not a Christian - a distinction which, unfortunately, comes off as more confusing than funny. (I think it's meant to be a comic reversal of the common conceit that people of other denominations aren't Real True Christians - in this case, Luther is only certain that despite his denomination, he isn't a Real True Christian.) At this point, Narrator-Matt and his companions are trying to help Luther, so they agree to answer his questions.

Before we get into that, though, Luther digresses into telling them about his wife, who has left him and taken their daughter because he hurt them when he was being a wolf. So, again, we're seeing that the problem with werewolvery is the uncontrollable rage - which makes it somewhat puzzling that Luther had enough self-control to capture Narrator-Matt and his companions, who at the time were making a concerted (if incompetent) effort to capture him. I don't know, maybe strangers assaulting him in his own front yard just doesn't piss him off the way arguing with his wife does. On the other hand, they annoyed him enough to trigger a transformation, so...?

So, having firmly established why Luther wants to find help, we return to the Lutheran-But-Not-Christian distinction, and the companion question of how, exactly, you define “Christian.” Now, this might seem like a pretty simple question - especially since Matt is the author of a Christian book already, and a Christian book that apparently convinced Luther to consult with him about the subject. But... no. Narrator-Matt, Culbetron, and Hibbs 3000 huddle up and start working out a definition. After a while, they take their results back to Luther, who unhelpfully shoots them down.

In fairness (especially since, so far, I’ve spent a lot of time talking about problems I had with the book), there are some things here that - as an unbeliever myself - I’m particularly glad to see the author get right. Chief among them is that Hitler was not, in fact, an atheist; but rather considered himself (or at least promoted himself as) a Christian. Luther also points out that claiming to follow Christ does not automatically produce personal transformation and profound improvements in one’s character, which makes much of what is called “Christianity” useless to him. Narrator-Matt suggests that he should try going to church, and Luther agrees (somewhat ominously) that he and Matt should attend a church together.

Luther selects a large, well-established church: one whose membership is composed of solid, respectable citizens. This, of course, turns out to be the sort of church where the members talk n glowing terms about the wisdom and guidance of their preacher, and consult his three-Bibles-thick "study Bible" for the answers to any and all questions they might have. And, using a nice little horror-story trope, Author-Matt has Luther and Narrator-Matt actually sitting in the pews before Narrator-Matt realizes that none of the worshipers think for themselves because they're all zombies! And Now We Are Surrounded By Them!

This is another of the sections that the book really does right, in part because we're once again playing to the author's strengths: slapstick comedy, with pratfalls and chases and funny repartee. This holds right up through the point where Matt and Luther are confronted by the preacher, Dr. Bokor, and on through their daring escape from the building and out of the parking lot. Along the way they pick up an incompletely-converted zombie named Robert - adding, I suppose, another verse to the Monster Mash that Narrator-Matt seems to be assembling around himself.

They question Robert The Zombie a bit, and find that he wants to "stop living this zombie lifestyle." So they suggest that he stop listening to Dr. Bokor entirely, an idea which Robert embraces enthusiastically. In fact, he's so pleased with their help that he immediately attaches himself to Narrator-Matt for guidance in anything that he might have to, y’know, think about.

Take two Ave Marias and call me in the morning

2011-11-09T17:04:00.004-06:00

Father Martin Davis stood beside the hospital bed and watched as Dr. Price reset the boy's leg. The boy was maybe ten years old; apparently he'd fallen off his bike and caught the leg in a drain. As a priest, Father Davis didn't pay much attention to the medical portions of the procedure; he was busy composing his mind for prayer.

The bones were lined up and the cast was in place when Dr. Price caught his eye and nodded. Father Martin stepped forward, feeling the Ruach HaKodesh move through him as he prayed: "Holy Father, drive the demons from this boy's injury and keep them at bay while he heals. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen."

"Thank you, Father," said the boy's mother, who had been sitting on the far side of the bed.

Father Martin smiled and stepped back. There weren't any demons or evil influences here in the hospital, of course. The building was blessed far too regularly for that. The prayer was just to discourage them from settling in the wound and causing an infection after the boy went home.

He was halfway to the door when one of the nurses came rushing in. "Father Martin? Come quick. We've got a bad one."

The priest followed her down the hallway to another room. He hated working the Emergency Room, particularly at night, and especially during the dark of the moon, when the most chaotic and malign of spirits were ascendant. So, naturally, that was always when his ministry was scheduled. Father Martin wasn't sure if this was because the Bishop had it in for him, or whether it was intended as some sort of test or lesson. It didn't matter, really: it was his duty and he did it.

He could hear the trouble well before they reached the room. Shouted curses, in English and French, spilled out into the corridor. He could hear bangs and thumps from inside the room, and a shockingly loud clatter as something metal hit the floor. The nurse started, then went in.

Father Martin followed her, and the obscenities moved yet another language: Greek, he thought, but he couldn't be sure. The boy was strapped to one of the beds, but he was thrashing around with maniacal strength. The parents were huddled together in a corner of the room, away from the medical equipment. They looked panicked and exhausted, though their expressions lightened towards relief when they saw his clerical collar.

Ignoring the thrashing figure of the boy - teenager, really - Father Martin turned to the parents and lifted a hand. "Bless you," he said. He could feel no evil in them, no demonic influences hovering around them, but if they'd been in the presence of something like this... well, they could probably use a little extra protection.

He turned back to the boy, and was gratified to see that the body had gone still - though the mouth was still spitting curses. Whatever had gotten into this boy was strong. He made the sign of the Cross in the air in front of him, then stepped closer.

"Bless me, Father," he said softly, "as I work to save this child from the minions of Evil." He felt the Spirit settle over him once again, peaceful and powerful and strong.

This wasn't just a matter of a minor demon hanging around and exerting its influence, he saw immediately. Just bringing the child to the hospital would resolve that sort of problem, placing the child beyond its reach. All that would be left would be to drive out the last of its influence, a practice which filled a great many of Father Martin's working hours. But this... this was worse.

Either the young man wasn't a Christian, or he'd opened himself to sin so much that a beast of wrath had been able to enter his mind. This was a full-on possession, and the spirit that moved those limbs and spoke those words would not be willingly or easily displaced. Somewhere in there, the boy was watching this demon move him like a puppet, and being tempted ever further into despair. How had it come to this?

He started to ask the parents, then decided there was no time. Instead, he turned back and raised his hands over the bound form of their son. "Holy father, we ask that you take the burden from this boy. Release him from his bondage, and drive out this darkness inside him..."

The procedure went on for hours. In the unchanging light of the hospital room, it felt like days. The beast was strong, and it called on its Master to increase its strength. Father Martin prayed for its removal, and his faith in the One Who Could Do All Things never wavered. He had no doubt of the eventual outcome, and so he was not surprised when at last the boy's body gave a great, bone-deep cry. The sound was horrible, echoing, overflowing the room and spilling out into the halls. It went on impossibly long, unbroken, until at last a twisted shape of black smoke rose from the boy's mouth.

Father Martin put a hand out, feeling the Ruach HaKodesh move through him. He caught the smoke, held it while it struggled, and finally crushed it in his fingers. Before him, on the bed, the boy was weeping silently. His tormentor was gone.

With the demon vanquished, the Holy Spirit moved on as well. Its strength went with it, and Father Martin resisted the urge to sag - or to forgo dignity entirely and sit down on the floor. He had one thing left to do before he could rest, and it was vitally important.

There were cards in his pocket, pre-printed and blessed by the Bishop. A prayer was inscribed on each. He skipped the simple ones at the front, and went to the more potent invocations at the back.

As the parents moved towards the bed, he drew his prescription from the pile. "Here," he said, and handed the card to the father. "You can read this, yes?"

"Oui," the man answered. "Yes."

Father Martin put a hand on his shoulder. "You must say this twice a day - the three of you, together. You understand? Once in the morning, once at night, for the next seven days. Your son will seem better - he will be better. But you must not forget. Twice a day, for seven days. If you stop too soon, this thing - or something like it - might come back."

"I understand," said the father.

"The ones that come back, they're resistant to prayer." The family didn't need to know all this, but Father Martin had a regrettable tendency to lecture people when he was tired - and right now he was exhausted. "We have too much of that already, too many new prayer-resistant strains of demons. Pray together for the full seven days, to make sure the beast is entirely destroyed."

"We know," said the mother. "We will do it."

"Good," Father Martin replied. "God's blessing be upon you all."

"And upon you," said the mother. "Thank you."

By the clock on the wall, his shift had ended two hours ago. Father Martin gathered himself, wondering if he could make it home, or if he should find a place to sleep here. The idea of sleeping in the hospital didn't appeal to him, but driving didn't seem wise.

"This way, Father," said the nurse in the doorway. She was short and squat and dark, but right then she looked like an angel sent from Heaven. He wondered how long she'd been standing there. "Let's get you to a bed."

Tip of the hat to Former Conservative, for reminding me that there are people who think this is really how it works - except, of course, that in their view of the world a Catholic priest would be bringing the demons in rather than casting them out.

Welcome to Tourettes

2011-11-08T13:14:00.002-06:00

The contents of this post include language not safe for work.
Note: If you're looking for where to buy one of these shirts online, I can't help you. Try the next search result.

This is a problem:

Here's why:

I've seen a few friends posting the green t-shirt with the phrase, "we want a cure for Tourette syndrome, when do we want it, (explative)" I won't say what the word is. Keep in mind that Tourette syndrome (which I have) is more than just a swearing disease. In fact, the uncontrollable swearing is the rarest form of Tourette Syndrome but of course gets the most publicity. It affects the nervous system, causing uncontrollable movements and sounds. Along with it come other problems like OCD (obsessive Compulsive Disorder), ADHD and other problems and should not be taken lightly. I wonder if the people posting this would be as quick to make fun of other nervous system diseases. If you wouldn't post this stuff about a disease like cancer than you really should not post it about Tourettes or any other disease for that matter.

(Explanation courtesy of Keith Z.)

Basically, this is only funny if you know almost nothing about Tourette Syndrome. And if all you know is that is causes people to swear randomly, do yourself a favor and get some basic information on the topic; or look at some of the resources for people affected by it.

Thanks.

Gossip, Infidelity, and My Brain

2011-11-08T12:54:00.003-06:00

My brain is weird.

If you've been reading this blog for any length of time - or, well, at all, really - you probably already figured that out. That said, I'm still fascinated by the particular ways that my brain can be weird.

So yesterday I learned that one of my co-workers is, um, boinking someone that he shouldn't be. He shouldn't be boinking her because he's already married to someone else, and because she's already married to someone else.

Normally, I wouldn't know about this. I tend to be blissfully unaware of these things - partly out of disinterest, and partly because I don't always process social cues. Also, normally I wouldn't care. I have better things to do with my time and attention.

However, owing to the way I learned about it, I only found out who the guy was.

This, apparently, completely bypasses my customary indifference and triggers an intense curiosity instead. I think it's the incomplete nature of the information; if they'd just come in and said, "Oh, X and Y are sleeping with each other," I'd probably have just nodded and gone on with my day. But being told that "X is sleeping with, um, someone in another department," immediately made me want to know: "Really? Whom?"

Well, okay, not immediately. It immediately made me want to slap the shit out of him, because he really should know better. But right after that, it made me want to know whom he was boinking.

It took about half an hour to find out. Apparently I was one of maybe three people in our workplace who hadn't heard about it already. That half an hour was, frankly, way more attention than the issue deserved, and mostly involved finding a discreet source of information. But now that I know, I can set the information safely behind an S.E.P. Field and get on with my life.

Truth or Certainty?

2011-11-08T09:18:00.012-06:00

I've noticed - and this isn't new, but several things have recently called it to mind - that there are an awful lot of people in the world who claim to want truth, when in fact what they really want is certainty.

Now, this is neither entirely true nor entirely fair. That's the nature of generalizations. But I think it's true enough to merit discussion.

Certainty is comforting. It's definite, it's solid, and it gives you something you can depend on.

Truth, on the other hand, is messy. It's uncertain, it's contextual, it's conditional. It requires us to acknowledge the limits of our understanding, to admit that we don't know things, to see that the things we do know are incomplete. It takes work.

I don't trust certainty, and I'm generally wary of people who seem driven to find it. The problem with certainty is that it's quite possible to be both certain and wrong. And if you're so certain of something that you never feel compelled examine, doubt, or question it - well, then you're far less likely to notice if it is wrong.

Left over from Halloween

2011-11-07T09:20:00.000-06:00

I put this together for one of my iFriends. Feel free to steal it. And remember: Do Not Ring My Doorbell!

Deconstruction: Night of the Living Dead Christian 4

2011-11-07T08:35:00.001-06:00

In which we consider the implications of author inserts...

Welcome to the detailed (and, unfortunately, spoiler-rich) review of Night of the Living Dead Christian. For a briefer review that doesn't give anything away, read the main review. If you're curious, here's a discussion of why I'm doing this.

This is a rather long bit of reaction, so I'm breaking it up into sections. Hopefully that will allow for more bite-sized discussions. So, now that you've all been fairly warned, we'll pick up the deconstruction after the jump:

So we return to the perspective of Narrator-Matt, who is tied to a chair the werewolf's home, along with Culbetron the Mad Scientist and the Hibbs 3000. Luther reveals a little more about himself, starting with the fact that he doesn't roam the neighborhood looking for people to eat. And, after a bit of repartee, Luther elaborates on why he took Narrator-Matt prisoner: "I had hoped you might have some insight about the transformative power of being a follower of Jesus." Not only does Luther recognize Narrator-Matt, he also has a copy of Matt's earlier book, Imaginary Jesus, sitting on the table.

Now, Imaginary Jesus really exists, and it was (surprise, surprise) written by Matt Mikalatos. So at this point it's pretty clear that Narrator-Matt doesn't just share Author-Matt's name, Narrator-Matt is meant to be the author.

There's a storytelling technique which involves building real-life people, places or events into a fantastical narrative in order to give the reader the impression that all this strangeness could be happening in real life! (I believe the technical term is "metafiction." Stephen King's Dark Tower series is an obvious example, since there too the author appears as a character in the story - though that isn't the only way to get this sort of effect.) Unfortunately, in this story it just doesn't work. Author-Matt has spent five chapters presenting us with Narrator-Matt, who is characterized as a well-meaning buffoon; with the result that I can't take seriously the idea that he and Author-Matt are actually meant to be the same person. In addition, the story itself is so farcical up to this point that I simply can't credit the idea that This Might Really Have Happened. It's not, in other words, a technique that fits into this sort of story.

I realize that I've been fairly critical up to this point (and I'm not done yet). Several of these elements - Luther taking over the narration, Matt Mikalatos being the primary narrator as well as the author - did become less distracting once I got used to them. (Well, and once I had some idea of what the story was doing with them.) So where Geds apparently enjoyed the first section, but hated the rest, I had some trouble with elements in the setup, and enjoyed it more once it got going. That's not to say that I didn't have issues with later sections; as you'll see, I did. But there's no clear cutoff for me where the book quit working as a story; some sections were quite enjoyable, and other sections were problematic.

Reflections on Science

2011-11-06T11:22:00.000-06:00

You've all watched some sort of movie where the scientist learns something that Man Was Not Meant To Know, and releases some sort of unholy terror into the world, right? Either they're creating experimental portals to other dimensions, or they're doing experiments on human perceptions in deep-sleep and other altered states of mind, or they've realized that the obscure writings of some ancient civilization are weirdly relevant to a particularly esoteric branch of physics, or something along those lines.

That, um, that actually happens.

Oh, not very often. Usually, when something from Outside enters our world, it's a result of people like us, who actually know what we're doing. (And, in particular, who know how to put down the things we call up.) Occasionally, we run into something like the recent situation with the Corpsewalker, where someone has stumbled across the knowledge but lacks the necessary background or caution to use it. Very rarely, these kinds of threats come from scientific researchers, who have come to the knowledge on their own.

But, for the same reason that these occurrences are so rare, they're also extremely hard to predict. They tend to happen to people, and in places, that we aren't watching. By the time we find out that something has happened, the situation is already out of control and almost certain to end badly. (One such incident occurred in Chicago in 1871, another in Mexico City in 1985. That should give you some idea of just how badly these things can end.)

We're watching one of those situations now. It's more subtle than the two I just mentioned, but it could prove equally dangerous. The fellow involved is a dream-researcher, and right now we're still trying to figure out what he was trying to do, and what he's actually done.

I've mentioned before that a lot of my fellow worshipers have unusual sorts of dreams. Whatever this researcher did, no less than six of us dreamed about it . (I was not one of them; that particular sort of dreaming isn't one of my talents.) They, of course, passed the information to the Elders, and the Elders set some of the Watchers to find out who the guy is and what he's done. And that is where I come in.

Reflections of a Deranged Cultist is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual deranged cultists or overzealous scientific researchers is entirely coincidental.

Didn't see that nightmare coming...

2011-11-04T23:55:00.001-05:00

The nightmare: There's a monster, probably an alien, that's been creeping around eating people. I am on a train trying to get away from it, or trying to get to help. There is some reason to suspect that it might be following us or on the train with us.

The creepy part: I am in some sort of dining car on the train and talking to my friend. I ask him if he's planning to eat all of the rather large steak on the plate in front of him. He says, "Yeah, that would be tragic, wouldn't it, if I ate my whole steak?" At this point the lights go out, for about the duration of his sentence - we've passed through a tunnel or something.

When the lights come back on, I am staring at his head and the head of another of our friends. Their bodies are gone. Their heads are mounted on the wall, looking down in my general direction. They are part of a large, fleshy mass that is suspended across the ceiling and hanging down partway onto the walls.

This freaks me out sufficiently that my brain insists on ducking down under the table, scooting it over to the door of the train, and jumping off the moving train - complete with tuck, roll, and hope-nothing-breaks landing sequence. I am actually picking myself up and checking myself for injuries in the grass beside the train tracks before my brain will let me wake up.

The REALLY creepy part: I wake up and realize that out here in the real world, something soft and gentle is touching my face. Apparently I am sleeping in Firstborn's bed, and he has rolled over and put a hand out.

Despite the fact that it's only 11:30 or so at night, and I have spent the entire day - and, as a matter of fact, most of this week - so completely exhausted that I could barely see straight... Despite that, I am now wide awake.

Yeah. Thanks, kid. I needed that.

Deconstruction: Night of the Living Dead Christian 3

2011-11-04T08:28:00.008-05:00

In which the werewolf first takes over narration...

Welcome to the detailed (and, unfortunately, spoiler-rich) review of Night of the Living Dead Christian. For a briefer review that doesn't give anything away, read the main review. If you're curious, here's a discussion of why I'm doing this.

This is a rather long bit of reaction, so I'm breaking it up into sections. Hopefully that will allow for more bite-sized discussions. So, now that you've all been fairly warned, we'll pick up the deconstruction after the jump:

When we left off, Narrator-Matt was at the mercy of the werewolf that he and his companions had been trying to capture.

...At which point we reach a break in the narrative. The next section is "Interlude: And Now, A Word From Our Werewolf." The title would lead most of us to assume that we are now listening to the werewolf, Luther, as he speaks to us... and that is actually the case, but it's not entirely clear - mainly because Luther also makes a big shift in the tone of the writing, and starts speaking in very general philosophical terms... which activity involves using a great many pronouns without clear referents. (Seriously, there's a sentence in here: "When I write 'we' I assume that you understand that I am referring to him, to you, to me, to all of us." Well, yes, 'he' and 'him' are presumably the same guy, but it would have been a lot more helpful if it had said "I am referring to Matt," etc.) Since this is the first time that Luther takes over narration within the story, it would have been nice to have a bit more introduction, so I wouldn’t have had to guess which character was speaking.

The sudden transition from farcical action to preaching/philosophy is a bit jarring, but I don't think that's main problem. The author is really at his best here when he's writing a farce. When he slows down and tries to get serious, the writing gets... clumsier. Clunkier. It's trying for a more elevated voice, I think, but it just doesn't carry it off. Luther is describing his life as a werewolf - the joy of throwing off civilized considerations and just running wild, the sheer pleasure of rage, the guilt over the pain and damage that causes, and the inability to reconcile the conflicting urges of man and wolf, and he's trying to extend that into a general metaphor for the human condition, and... well, it just doesn't work.

Part of the reason it doesn't work is that he's characterized the wolf-side of Luther as a sort of rage incarnate. Specifically, the wolf-side is the part that terrorizes and mistreats Luther's wife. As a treatment of lycanthropy, this isn't at all bad, though it's very much a horror-movie view of things. To be fair, that clearly isn't all there is to it - that is, the wolf-side is also characterized as enjoying its physical strength, and howling at the moon, and that sort of thing - but what makes lycanthropy a curse for Luther is pretty clearly the fact that his wolf-side is also his abusive side.

Uncontrollable rage is indeed a problem for some people, but it's not a problem for all people at all times. It is not, in other words, a general characteristic of the human condition. Which is why, of course, the book includes various sorts of monsters typifying various sorts of problems - but the fact that it does makes Luther's insistence that "you're all like me on some level" even more mystifying. If we're really all like Luther, why include the other sorts of monsters? If there are all different sorts of monsters, why does Luther keep preaching that we're all like him?

And then, in the final paragraph of the interlude, Luther explains that he took Narrator-Matt prisoner in the hope of learning whether Jesus could provide a cure for his condition. This marks a shift in the direction of the narrative, which carries over into the next chapter (when Narrator-Matt resumes narrating).

And this is the point at which the story quit working so well for me: when it starts trying to make serious, explicit theological points while remaining comical. In defense of the book, it picks back up just a little bit later on, so it may not be that the approach doesn’t work; it may just be that this was such an sudden transition; it felt a bit like the narrative made an abrupt right turn, leaving me to overshoot and run right into a wall. (Splat!)

Upon re-reading that, I think it really is a matter of a sudden transition that isn't quite right for this point in the plot. If I were writing a shorter version of Luther's monologue, it would look a bit like this: "There is monstrosity in all of us. I love being a wolf. I hate being a wolf. I feel so powerful when I'm a wolf. I do terrible things when I'm a wolf. I must ask my neighbor if Jesus can cure me." It's abrupt, and it doesn't seem to fit. That's partly because Luther is going to explore some other thing before he finally discovers that Jesus is the solution, but that's not all there is to it.

Luther is also strangely insistent, as we'll see in the next section, that Christianity probably can't help him. If Luther had come to Narrator-Matt (say, because Narrator-Matt was one of the few people who knew he was a genuine werewolf) and Narrator-Matt had been the one to suggest that Christianity might provide a cure, then Luther's resistance to the idea would be more understandable. As it is, Luther seems oddly opposed to an idea that he himself proposed.

Real Work Conversations: Not Enough Logins

2011-11-04T08:14:00.000-05:00

Me: "So, wait. If you're you, and James is me, who am I???"

My Boss: "Muwahahaha!"

(For anyone who's confused: we're working on a particular piece of software that only came with a certain number of licenses, because we've been too cheap to upgrade to something sensible. So I have an account, and my boss has an account. Our minion James also uses my account. However, we can't be logged in on two different machines at the same time, so if James is using my login I have to log in as a my boss. This morning, they were both logged in, so I was feeling all left out.

Deconstruction: Night of the Living Dead Christian 2

2011-11-03T07:51:00.004-05:00

In which we introduce the monsters...

Welcome to the detailed (and, unfortunately, spoiler-rich) review of Night of the Living Dead Christian. For a briefer review that doesn't give anything away, read the main review. If you're curious, here's a discussion of why I'm doing this.

This is a rather long bit of reaction, so I'm breaking it up into sections. Hopefully that will allow for more bite-sized discussions. So, now that you've all been fairly warned, we'll pick up the deconstruction after the jump:

After the introduction, we run through the first five chapters, in which our narrator (who happens to be the founding member - and, for that matter, the only member - of his neighborhood watch) meets the neighborhood Mad Scientist, Dr. Daniel Culbetron, and his robotic (excuse me, "android") assistant, the Hibbs 3000. They are testing a device that's supposed to drive out werewolves, and which - when they test it - actually brings out every single monster in the neighborhood.

This is where the author is at his strongest: most of what follows is slapstick humor, with comical misunderstandings, chases, pratfalls, people taking shelter in wholly insufficient places, and monsters that don't behave quite the way you'd expect. When I say that a lot of this book is funny, this is precisely the type of passage I’m talking about.

This section also introduces the three major categories of monster - at least in passing. The first group are zombies, who go around attaching flyers to doors and apparently all attend the same church; so they're pretty obviously a metaphor for a certain sort of Christian. The second, and main focus of the book, is the werewolf: a man who turns furry and violent when he's angry. This turns out to be one of the narrator's neighbors - and, in a flashback sequence (or "prologue" - but mind you, it's also chapter 2), we find that narrator-Matt met this neighbor a week earlier.

At that time, the werewolf's wife was leaving him, and taking their daughter with her. This is Luther - the same Luther who wrote the introduction - but it's easy to get confused since the werewolf's name is not given at this point, and in fact there's no way for the reader to be certain it's even the same house until a bit later. (Later note: I’m wondering if this section might have worked better if it had been written from Luther’s perspective, with or without Narrator-Matt present as a witness.)

The third sort of monster is the vampire, who doesn't get much explanation just yet - narrator-Matt's neighbor and High School Chum Lara pops out just in time to scare the zombies away, wearing a long black cape and showing her fangs, but narrator-Matt blithely assumes that she's just trying out a Halloween costume a week early.

There is also a werewolf hunter named Borut, who appears to be bankrolling the Mad Scientist - which seems a little contrived, since the Mad Scientist wants to capture the werewolf for research, while the hunter wants to put a silver-headed arrow into its heart. How on Earth did these to get into some sort of business arrangement?

However they managed it, there’s a pretty clear conflict of interests. This leads to an immediate parting of ways between the werewolf hunter Borut, who takes off in pursuit of the werewolf, and Culbetron and the Hibbs 3000, who go off with Narrator-Matt to devise a way to capture the werewolf.

I’m skipping over a lot of the byplay here, but this is another section where the book is concentrating mainly on being funny, and doing very well at it. There’s a certain amount of wrangling over who should be in charge, and a digression by Narrator-Matt on the subject of biological oddities, in which he reveals that he has an extra half-vertebra in his spine.

The three of them do, eventually, come up with a plan. And then they try to implement it... which goes completely awry, and ends with Narrator-Matt captured and at the mercy of the werewolf.

Reflections on Difficult Questions Part 2

2011-11-02T23:11:00.002-05:00

This is Claire... which I guess makes me the Deranged Girlfriend? Or maybe not. Anyway, since my boyfriend is still under the weather, I thought I’d kind of fill in. I mean, I don’t know too much about what he’s been doing at work, and here at home he’s mostly been resting, but there’s some other stuff I can tell you about.

Anne, for instance. She’s come by twice since her first visit. She wants to talk, and I guess she doesn’t have that many people she can talk to anymore. And she’s been asking a lot more questions, and I’ve been answering them as best I can... because they’re not questions about things she shouldn’t know.

She’s asking questions about being a Catholic. Which, you know, I can mostly answer. I’m not sure the Church would approve of everything I have to say, but that’s how it goes. And it’s interesting to look at something that I’ve done my whole life, and try to explain it to someone who’s completely new to it.

I haven't asked her many questions. I don't know if she's thinking about joining the church. I don't know if she's thinking about working with Father Peter, or if she's asked him about anything of the sort. I don't know why she's talking to me and not my boyfriend. Maybe - and whatever else she's considering, I think this is part of it - she just wants to talk to someone who knows about what happened and won't think she's crazy.

Father Peter is treating us with the same unfocused fondness that he always has. If he's learned anything new about us, it hasn't affected his opinions. Well, that or he's an insanely good actor. He's nice to us, but not any nicer or more... familiar? than before.

I know my boyfriend's watching someone in particular at work, but he hasn't said who (and I probably wouldn't know them anyway) or why. I suppose for another couple that might be a problem, but for us... no, I trust him. I think he's hoping that it doesn't turn into another situation like the one we just cleaned up.

And that's really all I have to add for the moment.

Deconstruction: Night of the Living Dead Christian 1

2011-11-02T08:32:00.017-05:00

In which we get started...

Welcome to the detailed (and, unfortunately, spoiler-rich) review of Night of the Living Dead Christian. For a briefer review that doesn't give anything away, read the main review. If you're curious, here's a discussion of why I'm doing this.

This is a rather long bit of reaction, so I'm breaking it up into sections. Hopefully that will allow for more bite-sized discussions. I'm also tempted to create a cast list, just to avoid confusion; we'll see if that's needed or not. Meanwhile, if you're ready and willing to proceed, join us below the cut:

I hate to open with a complaint, but this concerns a basic authorial decision and I think it was ill-chosen. The name of the primary narrator is Matt Mikalatos. That is also the name of the author. This is distracting. It pulls my attention out of the story, and not in a good way. Would it be equally distracting to someone who hadn't been corresponding with the author over in the comments on another blog? I don't know, but I think it easily could be. And (as we'll see later), I think the reader is very much meant to be aware of it. (Later note: there’s a Q & A with the author in the back of the book, in which he discusses his reasons for doing that, and the device’s literary precedents. It’s pretty clear that how he intended it and how it came across to me have almost nothing in common.)

Unfortunately, that isn't the only difficulty I had with the book.

The book opens with an introduction (written, like everything else, in the first person) by "a concerned citizen and friend of the author" named Luther. Now, Luther is a character in the book, and says so in the introduction... but we don't actually meet him as a named character in the main narrative until chapter six (around the 23% mark on my Kindle). So having him soliloquize on how monsters really do exist, we just don't like to admit it... well, it doesn't do much to set up the story that follows - at least, not as a story. Bear in mind that this is also a piece of Christian fiction, so presumably it's intended to have an underlying didactic message. I think Luther's introduction is meant to help with that, rather than with the story per se. It's also possible that need for (and the purpose of) this sort of introduction was simply lost on me.

Generally, though, I think that you shouldn't have to explain your metaphors before you even start to introduce them, and I would have been perfectly happy (and probably less confused) if I'd skipped the introduction and gone straight into the story.