Dean for Free Software

I'm still undecided about the Democratic candidates for president next year. To be honest, I can't even name all of them off the top of my head. But I just got nudged in the direction of one of them by an article posted to SlashDot. It points to a page on Howard Dean's web site where his campaign is distributing "Web Community Kits" consisting of open-source software (called DeanSpace), developed for his own campaign. These kits make it easier for independent groups to set up community-organising web sites, such as those developing around Dean's campaign. It's kind of a Movable Type for political campaign sites.

This software is licenced for use and distribution under the GNU General Public Licence, which means that it is free for anyone to use, and to modify to suit their own purposes. Even Republicans. In fact, it's based on pre-existing GPL software (a content-management system called Drupal), which is not at all unusual. That's the whole idea behind the GPL: to make it easier for people to use existing software as the basis for something they'll find useful themselves. The main rule of it is that you have to share. The GPL, originally conceived 20 years ago by a geek named Richard Stallman, has been one of the instrumental factors in the development of the internet. (If you've visited a web site or sent an e-mail message recently, there was probably GPL software involved in the process.) The GPL is a lot like a Microsoft End-User Licence Agreement... except the opposite.

Now, I'm sure that to some extent releasing DeanSpace is a Calculated Political Ploy™ designed to appeal to a certain kind of voter and/or activist without alienating anyone else. But it's a novel CalcPoliPloy, and it also suggests that Dean "gets it" when it comes to technology. (In much the same way that Bill Clinton was the first major-party nominee to "get it" on gay rights, a fact which won him considerable support, and gave the gay community breathing room to focus attention on matters other than defending ourselves from the president.) Dean's official Principles for an Internet Policy are certainly both thoughtful and a far cry from the agendas of censorship and commercial exploitation that seem to drive most politicians when dealing with the internet.

Like I said, I haven't decided which of the candidates I like most, let alone picking a horse to bet on for next year's race. I'm not even committed to the Dems. But it looks like Dean's got a spot on my short list.

I spend less on gas than you do

I'm probably going to have to fill up the gas tank of my car tomorrow.

I know, that news probably doesn't excite you very much, but it's kind of a big deal to me, because it means I went the entire month of September without buying any gasoline. And when I last pulled into my local independent petrol outlet back in August, I only bought about 9 gallons to fill a not-quite-empty tank. Just doing cocktail-napkin calculations, I'm pretty sure I'll spend less than $200 on gas this year.

How do I do it? Well in the interest of total disclosure, the fact that I'm currently unemployed, with no job to go to everyday, helps. But I'm still in school, and even back when I had a job, I didn't use up that much more gas in a month. For one thing, my job was fairly nearby. Granted, few people have total control over the length of their commute, but if you happen to be looking for housing at the same time you're looking for a job, it only makes sense to try to live near where you work.

For several years, I didn't. I was an idiot. I had an apartment 15 minutes away from my workplace, but moved in with friends 30 miles away. And commuted. For two years. I finally had the sense to move closer to work, but then I lost that job. I got another one 30 miles away. But instead of moving closer to it, I went back to commuting. This made no sense, especially since I was a renter, free to relocate with a few months' notice. Now I'm smarter about it, taking care to locate my living place close to where I work (or where I used to, and where I'm most likely to find a new job).

But that's only part of how I spend so little on gas. I also own a car that doesn't guzzle fuel like a fratboy at a kegger. My Geo Metro can't match the latest hybrids for MPG, but it does pretty darn well, thanks. And for a lot less money (though tax breaks for buying hybrids help with those). And I can park it in spaces the driver of an SUV (or even a full-size sedan) wouldn't even glance twice at.

Another thing that helps is that I don't automatically head out the back door (toward the carport) every time I leave the house. I keep my bike just inside the front door, and except for when the weather's lousy, I ride it to school downtown. It not only saves me the cost of running the car, but also the cost of parking it. It gives me exercise, of course. And because I don't get caught in traffic, and can park the bike right next to the school, it actually takes me less time to ride than it does to drive, park, and walk. (On a few occasions when the weather was iffy, but I was running late, I've had to take the bike instead of the car so I could get to class on time.)

For a lot of errands, I pass the bike and instead go directly out the front door, and walk to the little commercial district a few blocks from here. (Another example of strategic neighborhood-shopping). I can mail a package, buy a box of lightbulbs, drop off some film to be developed, grab some brewskis, rent a video, and pick up a carry-out order of my choice of pizzas, subs, Chinese, or world-famous Yesterdogs... all without burning a drop of petrol. If you can't find a place to live that has something like that within walking distance... maybe it's time you wrote a letter of complaint to your local city planners.

It doesn't make a big difference in the annual gas budget, but I've also found a way to avoid burning gas to mow my lawn. I use a mower that doesn't need gas. Or a power cord, for that matter. If you're old enough, you may remember that once upon a time lawn mowers didn't need power: you just pushed them and the turning wheels spun the blades around. They're called reel mowers, and you can still buy them. In fact, today's models are an improvement over the old ones, easier to push and maintain. They're much cheaper to buy than gas or electric mowers (which is why manufacturers and retailers don't promote them: not enough profit per unit), easier to store, and... blissfully quiet. Rakes have some of the same advantages over leaf blowers (which have to be one of the great bone-headed inventions of the modern era).

I'll admit that a snow blower can be a real labor-saver over shoveling, but unless you have a really long driveway and sidewalk or have health problems, it's not that much work to shovel after every snowfall (not even here in West Michigan, home of "lake effect" snow). And keep in mind that "labor saver" rhymes (sort of) with "you are fatter".

Even with as little gas as I spend money on, I'm still looking to do better. Sometimes biking takes too long or is too much effort to get places, but I don't really need to drag a literal ton of metal along to get me there (e.g. going to the movies out in the 'burbs, or picking up something particular I can't buy in my neighborhood). When I have the spare cash, I plan to buy one of them cute li'l scooter bikes, which combine the fun and convenience of biking with the ease of driving. At like 100 MPG.

Run of the House

my rating:

Living in Grand Rapids MI - a mid-sized city in the midwest, famous for pretty much nothing except Jerry Ford - one develops something of an inferiority complex about it. So when the movie American Pie - set in a fictionalised version of East Grand Rapids High School, just down the street - was released, I had to go see it.

Likewise, when I heard that the new WB sitcom Run of the House is supposed to be set in Grand Rapids, I figured I should take a look. One look was enough.

The gimmick of the show is that Mom & Dad have moved to Arizona for his health (never mind that most of the year the climate here is fairly innocuous, and even feeble senior citizens here who buy condos in sunny Arizona usually only spend a few months a year there), leaving the three older siblings in charge of their 15-year-old sister. But of course they don't have enough parenting skills among the three of them to do the job right. Hilarity ensues.

Or not. One of the better theories of comedy that I've heard is that things are funny when they defy our expectations. "Take my wife... please!" is funny because we think he's saying one thing, but it turns out he's saying something else. Run of the House, on the other hand, is predictable.

Like in the episode I watched, when the youngest sister throws a party, and the two middle siblings conspire to keep it a secret from the oldest brother. You know that the party's going to get out of hand, that the brother's going to find out about it, and that the episode will end with the sibs loyally trying to protect each other from being blamed for it. No surprise; no comedy.

It also loses bunches of credibility points by having the characters talk only about having enough soda and chips for the crowd. For one thing, we call it "pop" around here, not "soda". For another, you damn well know that there's going to be alcohol at an open, unsupervised high school party (even in Grand Rapids, American Pie at least got that right), and they showed people carrying red and blue plastic SOLO cups around, but nobody even mentions the fact that parties like this can have consequences beyond broken coffee tables and plugged toilets.

As for the setting, it was indistinguishable from any other suburban American sitcom. The obligatory wacky next-door neighbor shouts "Thank you, Grand Rapids!" at the end of a karaoke performance, and makes a reference to her husband going rabbit hunting "in the UP" (which is at least the proper Michigander term for the Upper Peninsula, though I've never heard of anyone going there - or anywhere else in the state - to hunt rabbits).

I've certainly endured worse half-hours sitting in front of a TV, but this is a reminder of why I don't do much sitcom-watching at all these days (with only Scrubs, Malcolm in the Middle, and The Simpsons left on my weekly viewing schedule from last year, and nothing new so far this year to add to it).

The Rundown - Follow The Recipe

my rating: Nathan's rating:

The protagonist of The Rundown is (or at least wants to be) a professional chef, a man who knows how to follow a recipe but also knows how to improvise. So, it seems, are the creators of the movie. It's a fairly formulaic film of the "summer escapist adventure" genre, prepared with all the usual ingredients (borrowed liberally from other movies) and just enough originality to make it entertaining.

It has the Soft-Hearted Tough Guy Stuck Doing One Last Job (played by The Rock). It has the Smart-Mouthed Quarry who doubles as the Man With Questionable Values (Seann William Scott). They'll end up teaming up against the Sociopathic Bad Guy (Christopher Walken). And the Beautiful Woman Who's More Than She Appears To Be (Rosario Dawson) will complicate the plot for everyone. The obligatory Exotic Setting is the wilds of Brazil.

The Rock gets to stretch his acting skills a bit beyond just being an "action hero" and manages the comic bits and even the quiet dialog scenes well enough. Scott's part goes beyond his "Stifler" schtick with some Bulletproof Monk thrown in. Christopher Walken, on the other hand, could have done this performance in his sleep. Rosario Dawson... it's really not much of a role here, but it's a far cry from Pussycat Valerie.

The plot is pretty much by the numbers, with bits taken from similar jungle exploration scenes in Raiders of the Lost Ark and Romancing the Stone. Some of the "humor" comes from Scott's character (with hands cuffed behind his back by the Rock) needing to stop to pee, and from the duo being attacked by horny male monkeys. But these bits are mercifully short.

The script flirts with depth here and there, such as the Rock's character insisting that he doesn't use guns, hinting at a story behind this resolution. But he seems to have no qualms about pointing guns threateningly, which makes his words a bit empty. And the "no shooting" rule is really only there to provide some dramatic tension to the scene when the only way he can save Scott's life is to jump into the fray, shotguns blasting with deadly skill. I guess the message from the Rock here is that Bad Things Happen when you use a gun... unless you use it to pick off a dozen bad guys. Got that, kids?

Nathan is a WWE fan, but one fully aware of how artificial it is. So naturally the choreographed fights and predictable plot didn't bother him. He enjoyed it, but without a lot of enthusiasm. Same here. It doesn't require a lot of intelligence to enjoy, but neither does it require that you be 13 or an idiot.

Fun Porn

I like watching people fuck as much as the next fella, but I'm not a major consumer of porn videos. So when one of my friends had to move back in with his folks a couple years ago, and gave me his tapes, my collection easily tripled in size. And I still haven't gotten around to watching them all.

But I was watching one yesterday that had something I really liked. The tape was Blonde Beach Boys from Vivid Video, and appears to be a collection of scenes from other titles. It's mostly pretty standard stuff: no stories, scripts, or "scenes", just pairs of fit 18-30-year-olds taking turns sucking and fucking. But the segment I watched yesterday (taken from The Adventures of Sparky O'Toole according to the on-screen credits) was especially entertaining. The two guys in it were having fun.

So much porn is all about In And Out followed by The Shot, and nothing else. The standard joke about porn is how everyone fast-forwards through the dialog, but I frequently find myself fast-forwarding through the almost-mechanical piston sequences. Not just to get to the money shots, but because the anatomical studies are simply boring. OK, I know what balls and a cock sliding in and out of an asshole looks like. Been there, done that. Could you at least zoom out and let me see whether either of these guys is... y'know: enjoying it?

By contrast, the camera in this scene generally kept its distance, and just showed these two guys having sex. There was sucking and there was fucking, but there was also playing: one guy teasing the other guy's cock with his tongue, later pouncing on him to nibble his neck. There was a bit of mutually-apologetic repositioning when they started something new. And the eventual money shot seemed less a matter of "OK, we've got enough footage, go ahead and cum now," and more of "I've held back as long as I can, and I've really gotta unload."

That's what I remember some of my best sex being like. But it's what so much porn seems to be missing. I'm not saying that every video has to be Adult Romper Room... after all, there's a lot to be said for an intense bondage scene, worshipful admiration of god-like bodies, or bucket after bucket of spooge. But if the porn industry wants more of my money, they should try making more of its that's just plain fun.

American Splendor - Will the Real Harvey Pekar Please Stand Up?

my rating:

The motion picture industry is in the middle of a torrid affair with comics. For the most part that means superhero stuff like X2 or the occasional genre piece like Road to Perdition. But one of the distinctive "genres" of comics (barely touched on by other media) is "autobio"... which is like "autobiography" but without the gloss one would put on a book for the ages, more like an illustrated diary of everyday life. While Harvey Pekar didn't invent the idea of autobio comics, he was doing it pretty early on, before it became an identifiable genre, with his series American Splendor.

Pekar's series has now been adapted into a movie. Because the series has been all about his life, it'd be tempting to say that this is a movie about Harvey Pekar. But it really is more of an adaptation of his comics, because Pekar remains the storyteller. While not entirely faithful to the original comics (and what adaptation ever is?) the movie draws primarily from them, and is not an independent account of his life (like the movie Crumb, about Pekar's friend and erstwhile collaborator Robert Crumb).

In fact, while Paul Giamatti is playing the part of Harvey Pekar in the movie, the actual Harvey Pekar narrates, and appears on-screen from time to time. So does his wife Joyce Brabner (also played by Hope Davis) and a few other people in their lives. To compound the confusion, there's even a scene re-enacting the stage adaptation of American Splendor in which another pair of actors portray Joyce and Harvey, in a scene showed previously in the movie... and of course the comics.

This multiplicity of "Harveys" may sound like a gimmick, but in the context of the film it all works. Also, since Pekar isn't an artist, he's relied on various illustrators to provide the pictures for his comics, and each one has their own interpretation of him, Joyce, and so on. If his readers can reconcile this ongoing visual contradiction, his viewers should be able to as well. This also gives them the liberty to use the actual footage of Pekar's appearances on the David Letterman show (on which he was a frequent guest until the two had a verbal fight on the air)... though it was a bit odd seeing movie-Joyce watching real-Harvey on TV.

The film is deliberate in presenting itself as comics-turned-movie: the opening credits are done as a series of comics panels (some illustrated, some with movie scenes playing in them), the expected hand-lettered captions explaining time and place are superimposed on scenes, and there are a few parts where movie and comics elements are combined into a single scene. A few other comics-adapted-to-movies have use this kind of self-conscious reference to their origins (such as the Hulk film, or the 1960's Batman movie/TV show), but with American Splendor, which specifically deals with the back-and-forth influence of Pekar's life on his comics and vice versa, it actually makes sense.

Not surprisingly, the movie leaves out a lot from its source material (we're talking about a couple decades' worth of comics, including a graphic novel about just the year of Pekar's bout with cancer), and takes some liberties with the details of the tale. (I'm puzzled about how Frank Stack, the artist who illustrated Our Cancer Year, became "Fred".) If you've seen the movie and want to know more about this rather ordinary (in a very interesting way) family, I' encourage you to pick up the recent collection of American Splendor stories, the Our Cancer Year graphic novel, or the inevitable Our Movie Year, in which Pekar tells about his experiences while having his work adapted into a motion picture. But don't wait for the book. When/if this movie plays in your city, or appears on the shelves of your local video emporium, give it a look.

Pledge Time

I listen to a non-commercial radio station (WYCE on FM and internet) most of the time when I'm at home or driving my Geo Metro. And it's the time of year that every listener of public radio (or viewer of public TV) hates. Pledge week.

This is the week in which the uninterrupted bliss of non-commercial broadcasting gets interrupted over and over by earnest pleas for donations. They point out how much you probably spend on coffee over the course of a year, or the cost of newspaper subscriptions or cable TV. They talk about how important you, the listener, are to them. And they repeat that damn phone number so many times you're afraid you'll accidentally dial it instead of 911 in an emergency.

But you know what? I don't mind it.

I'm not saying this as some kind of lecture about how the benefits of non-commercial radio are worth this kind of hell. I'm saying it because I really don't mind listening to them during pledge week.

In addition to WYCE, I also listen to the local repeater station for WUOM, the NPR/PRI station operated by the University of Michigan. Their pledge week drives me crazy. WYCE's doesn't.

I think the main reason is that WYCE's pledge breaks don't jar away from the regular format of the station so badly as others' do. WYCE is a nearly-all volunteer station, with a small army of volunteer programmers who come in each week to play music, chat with the listeners, and above all, have fun. And when pledge week comes along, they just keep at it.

Yeah, they do stop the music more often, and talk more, repeating the damn phone number over and over. But the programmers are still having fun. The station double-staffs the pledge shifts, bringing in additional volunteers from the community as well as our usual on-air friends, which lets these duos banter back and forth a bit during the breaks, keeping their fun level up, and keeping the listeners' up as well. It's like listening to one of those "morning drive" teams on commercial radio... but with intelligence and post-adolescent maturity.

Of course it also helps that WYCE is the kind of station that listeners quickly come to love. It features an eclectic, ever-changing mix of music that's free of the monotonous over-playing of corporate-selected "hits", and the deliberately irritating attention-demanding ads of commercial radio. I gave WYCE a listen when they started out over 15 years ago, and my dial's been stuck there (except for NPR's news programs) ever since. If they happen to pick a song I don't like, I know the next one will be something completely different, and almost certainly interesting. I grew up listening to Top 40 radio and later graduated to what was then called "college rock". But now I get a tossed salad of jazz, blues, folk, rock, and genres from around the world... making pop and commercial rock seem as bland as unflavored oatmeal.

What I find amazing is that so few communities actually have a station like WYCE. Some of the big cities have jazz stations or world-beat stations or block-programmed ("Tuesday is blues day") stations, but very few have anything that really breaks down the stultifying formatting that is the bane of modern radio. And it's not like Grand Rapids is some kind of cultural hotbed. And yet, every pledge drive rather easily meets its goal (which probably adds to the fun and relaxed nature of them). The only reason I can think of that more communities don't have their own is that - like me, back in the day - they don't realise what they're missing: a radio station so good that even it's pledge drives are enjoyable.

WYCE broadcasts at 88.1FM in the Grand Rapids MI area, and on the internet from wyce.org.

The Great Escape - A Classic Adventure

my rating:

There's an old neighborhood theater down the street from me, recently renovated as a community resource center and showing second-run and classic movies. Since both second-run movies and neighborhood cinemas had died out around here, it's great to have (back). This weekend (in addition to Terminator 3 they're showing The Great Escape starring Steve McQueen, Richard Attenborough, James Garner, James Coburn, Charles Bronson, etc. Since this movie was the primary inspiration for the wonderful Chicken Run film, I had to see it.

The film was made in 1963, which puts it two decades after the events it depicts and a full four decades before the present day. In this relative-contemporary context, it definitely deserves credit for casting actual Germans to play the Germans, and depicting them as people - some worse than others - rather than as just a pack of Nazi monsters. I'm also impressed that (as the opening credits boast) it took very few liberties with the actual events, fictionalising only the characters and (obviously) the staging.

The movie was just shy of 3 hours long, but it didn't seem any longer than many movies half that length. The story kept moving, keeping the anticipation high enough to keep my attention. I went into the movie not knowing the details of the incident, except the obvious implication from the title that there was, in fact, an escape. But how will they do it? What parts of the plan will succeed and where will it fail? How many - and who - will make it out of the camp? And since this isn't Chicken Run and "escape" means more than just getting outside the fence: Who will make it to freedom? Who will be captured? Who will be killed?

In a sense this movie was the opposite of last night's Underworld; there was a whole ensemble of interesting, generally likeable characters (an assortment of English, American, Australian, and Scottish POWs). Although none of them (even the nominal "stars") got enough individual screen time to become well-rounded characters, I spent enough time with them to get to know them and care about their fates.

Even aside from the I-almost-didn't-recognise-him youthfulness of the actors, the film felt a bit dated, with the sets more carefully groomed and the characters more cleanly costumed than would be fashionable today. Far fewer stunts and explosions than a modern production would have as well. And the soundtrack is a bit heavily orchestrated, with the ever-present jaunty march that serves as the main theme getting a bit irritating by the end. But the film never made me cringe like, say, a typical 1960's spy thriller or romantic comedy or musical would. A compelling story with well-played characters, it stands up as a classic.

Now I need to rent Chicken Run so I can watch it again and catch the rest of the Escape references this time.

Underworld - Undeveloped

my rating: Nathan's rating:

Not a bad selection of new films to choose from this week. Michael Caine and Robert Duvall in Secondhand Lions, with Haley Joel Osment in one last film before puberty consumes him. The likable Jason Biggs in Woody Allen's Anything Else. The indie film Thirteen, starring one of the little girls from TV's unjustly-cancelled Once & Again, as a not-quite-so-little-anymore girl. And Harvey Pekar appearing as himself (along with Paul Giamatti in the same role) in American Splendor, a criticallly-raved movie based on Pekar's comics about himself.

I couldn't talk Nathan into any of them. (Actually I didn't even try the last few, because I knew he'd never go for them. Way too grown-up for him.) He had his heart set on Underworld.

The trailers made it look like a rip-off of the Wachowski brothers' cinematic techniques, but with an occult storyline based on Romeo and Juliet, with the Montagues as werewolves and the Capulets as vampires. Well, at least it's borrowing from Shakespeare, I consoled myself as I gave in. It didn't. In fact, the story was deliberately opaque, and any characterisation must have been left on the cutting-room floor.

I suppose if I were 16, I might have gotten a kick out of all the shooting and gratuitous gore (lots of close-up shots of injections, bullet wounds, etc). And I might have found the "message" about the idiocy of mutual racism profound. Nathan really enjoyed it, and justified that by saying it good "for what it was".

In this shell of a story, the werewolves and vampires are in a centuries-old war with each other, for reasons that are poorly explained. On purpose. And something is in the works that will upset the balance of power in this war, but it's not clear what. Again, on purpose. In fact, several times, a character is about to provide some much-needed expository dialog, and someone interrupts him. The only way they can maintain any suspense is to not tell the audience what's happening.

Instead there are fight scenes, interlaced with scenes of the main characters posturing and spouting inane dialog. The fight scenes, of course, contain plenty of Matrix-esque acrobatic shootouts in ankle-length coats, that generally defy the laws of physics. The drama scenes, sadly, contain little or no characterisation, except to gradually make clear to me that I didn't give a damn what happened to any of them.

I guess I should have anticipated that a movie about vampires and werewolves might be lacking in "good guys", but I was hoping that some of the "bad guys" might at least be interesting in an anti-heroic sort of way. Hey, I'm "evil" enough to identify with the right kinds of villains. No such luck. Even the vampire heroine and her human (or is he?) boyfriend (not really, it seems) are difficult to care about... he, because we really see very little of him and much of that time he's just writhing in pain or struggling to escape, and she, because she shows no viewer-identifiable emotions except to shed a tear on cue over the centuries-old killing of her family. (It's tempting to say that Kate Beckinsale's character is killed by the stake of wooden acting.) By the time the movie was half over, I didn't give a damn what happened to anyone. Not a good sign. Not even the villains (i.e. the rest of the cast) were interesting.

So all I was left with were the secondhand innovative cinematic tricks and a whole lotta gothic-monster-type-movie clichés. Lots of bloody injuries. Transformation effects that I enjoyed 20 years ago when I saw an earlier version of them in An American Werewolf in London. Even the "no wait, he's not as dead as he looks" trick. (I would've expected that except that the characters are all un-dead, so it's kinda breaking the rules.) And the closing scene that tries to create an opening for a sequel. I can't say it was predictable, because I'd have to actually care what happens to bother predicting any of it.

Fortunately the volume of the soundtrack went up during the "action" scenes to help keep me awake. (In one instance, a character actually turns up a stereo to provide this effect.) The fact that the entire film - and I mean it: every single frame - is shot in semi-darkness made it tempting to take a nap. They could have saved some money by shooting this on black-and-white film stock, because the whole thing is lacking in any color except the occasional hint of red for the blood.

I'd like to give them some credit for a few clever updates on the werewolf and vampire mythos, like bullets containing silver nitrate to take out the werewolves and bullets impregnated with a UV-radiating substance (like sunlight) to kill vampires, but that sort of thing's been done before as well.

The cinema was pretty much full for the showing Nathan and I went to, the 7pm-ish Friday night one. Opening nights the past month or so have been pretty dead (which is typical of late-summer movies), but this week was different. Obviously there's a ready audience of adolescent boys who'll love this kinda shit. I'm not one of them. Tomorrow I'm going to see a matinee of The Great Escape starring Steve McQueen, at the second-run/classic movie house down the street, and put this evening's wasted time behind me. Then maybe pick up one of the interesting new movies at the cineplex on Sunday, by myself.

Talk Like a Pirate

Ahoy! Today be International Talk Like A Pirate Day me mateys! Aye, that be correct, ye lubbers. Today be the day when ye're supposed ta talk like a pirate. (Some bilge rats have been known ta misunderstand and talk like a parrot, so don't ye make that same mistake!) It's a completely silly notion and that's the whole point of it. So raise yer cup o' grog and give a toast to Talking Like a Pirate!

Arrr!

The Ages of Me

In a recent weblog entry, my friend Don mused:

I don't know if other people mark their lives by distinct periods, but I seem to do so. I have fond memories of them all. Funny how the memories get fonder as the years pass. I'm not sure what period to call the present one. It seems a bit disjointed and out of place and thrown together haphazardly from bits and pieces of the previous ones. Maybe in another 10 years this will all make sense to me, and I'll understand it better within a broader context. Right now, it's not so much a period in my life as it is my standing on a shore, looking out, wondering what might be over there on the other side, beyond the horizon.

I responded that I do break my life down into periods, because there seem to be several obvious ones. Maybe it's just that my mind chooses to impose some order on them, and the fact that I like to do that with things (at least in my head; I don't actually live an orderly life) certain has something to do with it. But by coincidence or not, there do appear to be four major periods to my life (so far).

These periods are defined by a combination of factors, and its the way they tend to change in rough synch with each other that makes me give some weight to the idea. The transitions were more gradual than they come across here (because not every factor changed simultaneously, overnight) but in retrospect, I can see them happening. Each period is marked by where I lived, my job and/or school situation, my social life, and my general attitude at the time.

I don't count the first couple years of my life, because I don't remember them and like all humans that age, I was really little more than a fetus too large to stay in the womb.

So the first period was my childhood. For most of it, my family lived in a medium-sized house on a corner lot, in the city but just a couple miles from being in the suburbs, withing walking distance of my neighborhood school. It was a stereotypically innocent time, with the major trauma of my life being mostly that I didn't have many friends, and like most kids without a schoolyard "group" to be a part of, I got picked on. It didn't help that I was pretty much smarter than all the kids my age, so I was often put in classes with older kids, or off on my own. Being "the class brain" isn't as bad as being "the class retard" (and of course I made fun of her too), but I was definitely not what you'd call "popular". But the traumas of "modern" childhood (divorce, abuse, substance abuse, etc.) weren't part of my life. It was OK. And I was smart enough to understand that my whole life was ahead of me, and full of possibilities, so I had faith that it would all work out. I guess I should add that I also had a typical child's faith in what he's been raised to believe about God and such. It all ended with puberty, a new school, and a new neighborhood.

So the next period was adolescence. We moved to a bigger house, this one only a mile from the 'burbs. I had even fewer friends there... none, in fact. What friends I had were at school, which included middle school, high school, and college. So pretty much all of my socialising was there. I managed to be more social during this period, in part because I'd accumulated a few fellow "brains" as friend in my late childhood and most of them were at the same middle school and high school. I had to start over from scratch in college, but thanks to dorm living and extra-curricular activities like the school newspaper, student government, and the frat I feel in with, I quickly found a social circle I could participate in. I was always on the periphery of it, but still I was part of it. Although I spent most of the year on campus, "home" was still that bigger house not quite in the suburbs. During this time I also discovered... boys. I had a firmly-denied sense of it in middle school, explored it and came close to coming out in high school, but stayed just inside the closet door all through college. It'd be simplistic to blame that for the fact that my social life never fully developed during this time, but it was a factor. It would not be simplistic to "blame" it for the changes in my values during this time. By the end of this period, I had gone from being a compliant Republican Christian to a skeptical Democratic agnostic. All the naive expectations I'd have about my family of four with a house in the 'burbs were gone, and frankly I expected a fairly dismal, lonely life once I had to leave the comfortable social environment of school. This period ended with graduation, entering the working world, and moving out.

The next period can best be described as young adulthood. I moved a few times, but for the bulk of it I lived in my own apartment, by myself for the first time. I had a couple of full-time tech-support jobs during this time, one at a corporate office, the other for a college, and while neither of them paid huge bucks, they both paid more than I needed to live on, so money was something I didn't really need to worry about. The complete lack of parental supervision meant I was finally free to come out. I was old enough and socially reserved enough that I didn't go wild and try to make up for the missed opportunties of adolescence like so many newly-out gay men do. Instead I was more politically active, and to my surprise found myself at or near the center of attention at times. I still didn't have lots of friends, but I was finally "popular"... or at least "well-known" and perhaps "influential" in the gay community. More importantly, I found a boyfriend. Andy approached me, which is good because I still didn't have the courage to approach anyone myself. It was a strange relationship in many ways, but it suited us both (most of the time). Toward the end of this period I was starting to burn out on all the social activist stuff I was doing, but it was mostly a "golden age" in which I regained the optimism (or at least the determination to make things better) I'd lost in adolescence. Which ended when I lost Andy, lost my job, and my landlord raised the rent enough to send me packing.

This is the current period of my life. What happened with Andy is a long, painful story, but the ending can be stated simply: he's gone. While all this was happening, my invulnerable openness about my sexuality cost me my job, and that made it hard to get another one. Instead I went back to school, both to "launder" my resumé (so people would stop asking me why I'd left my previous job) and to possibly start a new, more creative-orientated career. This period began with me living on unemployment benefits, but I found a part-time job that paid just well enough - with a paper route on the side - to pay my basic living expenses. I wasn't impoverished, but I could no longer buy new computers, new cars, etc. whenever I felt a need for them. "Making do" became the order of the day. Unfortunately, that job later vanished, and I'm back on unemployment again, without much hope of even restoring my previous standard of living, let alone starting that new career. Aside from the loneliness, my home - 1/3 of an old early-20th-century house in the not-quite-inner city - is the best place I've ever lived. But the only real friends I have are a few left from earlier periods. As for my philosophy about life, I'm now a certified atheist and pessimist. In adolescence (as I recognised my homosexality) I feared that I'd live the balance of my life alone and fairly unhappy. I think I was right after all.

One pattern I can't help noticing is that each of these periods is about 10 years long: age 2-12, 12-22, 22-32, 32-? I used to think of my life in 4-year periods, which corresponded neatly to things like high school, college, my first job, which car I owned, etc. And I could certainly break these 10-year-periods I'm talking about into smaller, distinct parts, even based on the home/job/social-life criteria I'm using here. But still, these 10-year periods hold together pretty well. If nothing else, the turning points between them are pretty signficant developmentally: puberty, independence, loss of a partner.

But I'm hoping that this pattern doesn't hold up, because that would mean I've got another 3-4 years left in this period. And frankly, I'm sick of it. I do have some reason to think this period might end sooner, since I'm pretty certain to finish my second college in the coming months, and there's still a chance I'll find a decent job rather than having to lower my standard of living even further. That might change my outlook on life... maybe even help revive my social life, I suppose. I don't see myself moving anytime soon, though, and I'm not about to move just because "it's time".

So anyway, that's the long answer to Don's question. For what it's worth. {shrug}

The War on... That, Too....

As everyone knows, we've been losing the War on Drugs® for quite a while now. But if you read the White House's press releases you know that the War on Terrorism™ is going just swell. The obvious solution is to start using the tactics of the latter on the former, and the Department of Justice is doing just that.

According to an AP article on Yahoo News, the new powers granted to it by the so-called Patriot Act is allowing a guy who's been running a meth lab to be charged with producing chemical weapons, a charge likely to multiply his sentence a couple dozen times over what he'd get if convicted of... y'know... manufacturing illegal drugs.

The good news (I guess) is that law enforcement agencies and prosecutors are doing this stuff openly, admitting that they're taking advantage of this (supposedly) anti-terrorism legislation to go after ordinary criminals. That's better than doing it while claiming that oh, no, they would never do something like that.

Now, if the people of the United States want terrorist-level sentences for drug dealers, they have every right to impose them. (Personally, I think that's insane, but that's not the point here.) But if that's what they want, then that's what the laws should be drafted to say, and that's what the legislators who pass them should be telling their constituents when they do so, and that's what the president should brag about as he signs it.

Selling a new law with the argument that it's to do one thing, then using it to do something more is just plain lying. Lying about what you're going to do if elected is a time-honored democratic tradition, and I wouldn't want to interfere with that. But lying about what you're doing once you get into office is something else. So if Patriot Act II: Electronic Boogaloo is going to be used in the War on Drugs® and the War on Liberties© as well, maybe they should admit as much ahead of time.

Rouse

Today's vocabulary word for the day is "ROUSE". "Rouse", as everyone knows, is the singular form of the noun "rice", which of course is the name for a bunch of those grains which serve as a dietary staple in many parts of the world, and are commonly served as part of Chinese and Mexican dinners. When you have only one of them it's a "rouse".

Please remember this word: "rouse". And remember its proper plural form: "rice". There is no such word as "rouses" and it just sounds silly.

OK, I made up "rouse" as well. But I did so for a reason, as a (hopefully) memorable trick to correct a peculiar grammatical failing that many computer users have. Show them one of those upside-down trackballs on a cord, commonly used as a pointing device, and they'll tell you it's a "mouse". Show them two or more, and they will quite often tell you that they are "mouses". They are not; they are "mice". If you have three of them of the non-optical variety, they are "three blind mice". Got it?

I don't know what it is exactly that causes people to forget this childhood lesson in irregular plurals, when the mouse in question is electronic rather than organic. But they do. And it drives me nucking futs. So please try to commit this lesson to memory. And if you don't, be prepared for someone to pat you on the head like a 3-year-old and earnestly explain to you with a patronising smile that the plural of "mouse" is "mice".

No go run along and play.

Microsoft on a White Horse

I want to wish Microsoft the best of luck and the best of legal representation in its latest court battle. It's bloody rare that I would say this, because Microsoft is a blight on the technology industry and deserves to lose most of the cases brought against it. But this time, they're in the right, and if they fail the consequences would be horrible.

The case involves Internet Explorer (one of my favorites pieces of Microsoft software to hate, because of the illegal tactics Microsoft used to put it on nearly every Windows system in the world). A company called Eolas - created several years ago, apparently just to profit from software patents - is suing MS for infringing on a patent they acquired from the University of California, which covers the seamless integration of plug-ins (like Flash, Java, Acrobat, QuickTime, and others) into a web browser. If Eolas prevails, Microsoft might have to cripple IE to make plug-in-enabled content deliberately less convenient. The idea of hobbling IE sounds like just desserts to me (since that's what Microsoft has been doing to everyone else's browsers that run on Windows), but I have to suppress a cheer over it, because the same ruling would probably enable Eolas to haul Netscape, Opera, Apple, and every other browser developer into court to enforce the same patent. Many of these browsers (especially those developed as non-commercial software) would vanish, and the ones that remain would be forced to work poorly just to comply with the terms of Eolas' patent. Microsoft could dig up the money to licence it, but we're talking a lot of money, and they're better off getting the patent voided. Which is good because it probably never should have been granted in the first place.

Jeffrey Zeldman's recent Daily Report has more info about the case and its ramifications. This is just one example of the mess that has been developing ever since the U.S. Patent Office started issuing patents for software. The idea of patenting inventions which exist only as software code has some merit, because the line between hardware and software is blurrier than you might suppose, and software is the form that much new technology takes.

But it's an incredibly slippery slope, and the USPTO's standards for issuing software patents have been so low that they cover rather obvious "inventions" (such as Amazon.com's one-click purchasing), and enable a company such as Eolas to hinder technological advance... which is not was the Patent Office was set up to accomplish. Meanwhile, the matter of software patents is a raging wildfire in Europe, where the EU parliament is debating it, and a great many technologists are protesting a proposal to permit them.

My feeling about patents in the contemporary era - regardless of whether they are issued for software or for anything else - is that the term of patents is far too long. In the 18th century, offering an inventor a 14-year exclusive on his invention gave him some competitive advantage for his efforts, in exchange for letting everyone else use it after that term. But these days a patent becomes obsolete long before it expires, rendering the invention useless to the public, especially now that the term has been stretched to 20 years. Even 20 months might be too long in certain hotly-competitive tech markets.

There's no easy answer to the whole question of patents. But as for the case of Eolas v. Microsoft, Bill Gates is on "our" side for once.

Matchstick Men - It's a Con

my rating: Nathan's rating:

The advertisements make Matchstick Men look like a quirky character study featuring the inimitable Nicolas Cage as an obsessive-compulsive con artist, blended with a wryly heartwarming tale of his reunion with his 14-year-old daughter and protegé played by Alison Lohman. And the move starts by providing first the character study, and then the heartwarming tale. But then it reveals itself to be a different kind of movie altogether, as quirkiness and charm are overshadowed by... well, that would be telling.

That coyness might make this sound like another The Crying Game or an M. Night Shyamalan film, but rest assured that it is not. This isn't a shocker or a mystery. It's a con. {grin}

This role is the kind that Cage is perfect for, because the character is so damn neurotic, and speaking as a man with a neurosis or two myself, I would say that he gets it down perfectly. He goes a bit over the top, and that's what the part calls for. But he does a great job of "dialing it down" as needed, and you can tell when Roy is having a good day or a bad day, depending on just how badly he reacts to - for example - shoes on his carpet, or a partially open window.

Nathan was lukewarm about the film, complaining that it was kinda slow starting out (referring to the character-study part), which is true. And it took a little discussion between the two of us, with me explaining exactly how the con worked, before he decided that he liked it.

Clueless Nationalism Day

Two years ago, the people of New York City demonstrated that they were better than their reputation. In the wake of a disaster they showed courage and compassion for each other that surprised a lot of people. But in contrast, over the two years since, the people of the United States have demonstrated that we're not all we're cracked up to be.

On September 12, I wrote an essay, soft-peddling the argument a little for publication in my local newspaper. It read, in part:

We've been hearing a lot about "America", and how this disaster will draw us together and unite us. This is good, but again, we have to keep an eye on the whole picture. In the same way this attack affected more than just the dead and injured, more than just their families and friends, and more than just those in New York and D.C., it also affected more than just the United States.

I'm a participant in several discussion groups on the internet, which include people from numerous countries, and suddenly the usual topics have been brushed aside as people literally from around the world have spoken of how devastated they are by these attacks. The financial and military capitals of the United States may have been the physical targets, but the philosophical targets were global, and the whole world has been shaken by the impact.

So as we wave the Star and Stripes and sing "God Bless America" we need to remember to also include peace- and freedom-loving people from across our borders and overseas. Not just because we need their help to win a war, but because they're hurting too. We all need each other, and this is no time to draw lines between us.

But that's exactly what the United States went on to do. The TV news media ignored the fact that the primary target had been the World Trade Center, and (Fox especially) plastered the screen with U.S. flags. Ordinary folks followed suit with their cars and homes, to the point that I couldn't go outside without seeing red, white, and blue. George W. Bush later declared September 11 to be "Patriot Day", a bizarre non-sequitur. After all, a large number of the victims weren't even Americans, let alone "patriotic" ones. And the heroes of the day (some of them victims as well) weren't doing it "for America", they were doing it for their fellow human beings. Would they have done the same thing if they'd found themselves in the middle of a similar disaster in another country? Of course.

But our leaders cast the conflict in nationalist terms, and the public has all too willingly gone along with it. We idealise patriotism and national pride... which are in fact key parts of the problem. Take a look at any armed conflict in the world today (e.g. Israel/Palestine, the Balkans, Northern Ireland) and you will almost always find some form of nationalism at its center. (That's a whole topic in itself, for another day.) Two years ago almost the whole world was sympathetic toward the American people. We quickly alienated them, swinging our big American dick around and telling them all - including some of our strongest allies in NATO and the UN - to fuck off. So now it's the US against Them, and the would-be beacon of freedom and democracy is instead stomping through Central Asia trying to install new governments like Marvel Comics' sociopathic anti-hero vigilante the Punisher, with the apparent blessing of the American people. Is it any wonder the UN is reluctant to help clean up our mess?

Back in the 1990's I used to travel around Europe from time to time, and I've wanted to visit other parts of the world as well. I'd be very hesitant to do so now. Not because of 9/11 and the threat of terrorism, but because of how the people of my nation are perceived by the person on the streets elsewhere. If I did go overseas again, I'd probably sew a Canadian flag or something on my backpack, and travel incognito. Not so much for safety reasons (though that's part of it) but because the patriotic nationalism of my fellow Americans has actually made me ashamed of my country.

Epicurus the Sage

One of the classic(al) large-format square-bound comics of the early 1990's is back. Epicurus the Sage by William Messner-Loebs and Sam Kieth is back in print, and in stores again today. I was "on hiatus" from buying comics at the time (as were a lot of people) and missed Epicurus when the original volumes came out, but I'd heard they were good, and now - thanks to a fresh collection with a new story added - I finally got a chance to buy it.

Artist Sam Kieth is probably the better known of the creative duo behind Epicurus, with the fairly high-profile series The Maxx in the mid-90's (which Loebs helped write), and some recent projects published by DC Comics. His wildly cartoony style gives Epicurus much of its charm.

But the writer is at least as important, and also one of the reasons I was eager to buy this book new, rather than searching for the original volumes at comics conventions. Bill Loebs is a great writer... and quite frankly, he needs every dollar he can get. I'll get back to that, but for now I'll focus on the book. Epicurus is a real historical philosopher (founder of Epicureanism), whom Loebs hijacks as the vehicle to tell some smartly funny stories about ancient Athenian philosophers, Greek gods, and Hellenic heroes. He nabs Socrates, Plato, Aristottle, and young Alexander the Great, and assorted minor philosophers as well, poking good-natured fun of them. You don't need to be familiar with these folks, but it adds more depth to the humor if you do. Loebs has an obvious affection for these historical characters... but an equally obvious disrespect for them as well. That's healthy. And lots of fun.

Bill Loebs was never a "big name" writer, but (among other assignments) wrote the adventures of the Flash, and Wonder Woman for several years. His extended run writing princess Diana the Amazon was hampered by cheesecake illustration that fell far short of the preceding artists', but his years-long stewardship of the Flash was noteworthy for the first formal "outing" of a mainstream gay superhero. In one issue, the Piper, a former villain but now a friend and ally of the Flash, mentions that he is gay. The Flash freaks out, but quickly recovers (he's the fastest man alive, after all) and everything's good again.

But the career of a freelance comics writer is always precarious, and after Flash and Wondy, Loebs found himself without much of any paying work. Combined with his wife Nadine's medical bills, their finances have been screwed over to the point of losing their home, and rapidly becoming indebted to their new landlord and the storage facility holding their worldly belongings. Comics fans rallied to support them, but a one-time infusion of cash only goes so far. Buying Loebs' work not only gives him some royalties but also helps establish that more of his work should be reprinted, and may even help him get some new gigs. The decision to reprint Epicurus was based in equal parts on the quality of the material, and the fact that Loebs deserves - and needs - a break.

But even if you don't give a damn about Bill and Nadine, Epicurus is worth picking up for its own sake. As I said, Kieth does a fantastic job with the illustrations, and Loebs turns out a smart satire of classical philosophers and culture that's both silly and fully appropriate for mature readers.

On the other hand, if you just want to help out the Loebses, you can send a check (made out to William F. Loebs) to them at PO Box 558, Pinckney, MI 48169. Or if you have a PayPal account, you can send money to BillMLoebs@aol.com.

Non-Partisan Victory Party

Grand Rapids MI has elected a new mayor, and in the process ruined one of the surest predictions I'd ever made regarding local politics. But you'll have to forgive me: I didn't really understand what I was talking about.

At the time, John Logie, Sr. was in his first term, replacing a homophobic dork named Helmholdt, who'd given no end of close-minded grief to the lesbian/gay community. When Logie was slow-moving in changing city policy to be more gay-friendly, some people started to bitch and talk about replacing him. "He's the most liberal mayor this city is going to see in our lifetimes," I cautioned. This is a city dominated by the Republican Party and conservative Christian denominations, after all. We were lucky to get Logie - member of a liberal non-denominational church downtown - in the first place. Under Logie's leadership, city government became much less hostile, and eventually added "sexual orientation" to the city's non-discrimination ordinance, as we'd been asking.

But I was wrong about his place in history. Turns out the new guy makes Logie look like a member of the Chamber of Commerce. His name is George Heartwell, and he needs no educating about civil rights. As a City Commissioner he was one of our advocates, and before that he ran a program to aid the homeless and poor living in one of downtown's blighted neighborhoods. Formerly a Reformed Church pastor, he left the denomination over its abysmal positions on social issues. I've spoken with Heartwell (we sat next to each other at a dinner) and when I heard he was running for mayor, I wanted to rush out and get a yard sign from him. I didn't need to.

Heartwell won the primary with over 80% of the vote, which means there won't be a run-off election in November. It might have been a closer race if a stronger challenger had run against him (the other two candidates were political newcomers), but the fact that no one else filed in response to his well-in-advance announcement means he was pretty much elected by general acclaim.

What's weird about all this is that we're talking about Grand Rapids, a city where the primaries usually decide the outcome of the final election, because the run-off is between a Republican and a Democrat, and the Democrat always loses. It's a city dominated by conservative Calvinist churches. So how did we get a three-term non-denominational mayor followed by a bleeding heart refugee from one of those denominations?

What I didn't realise at the time of my prediction was that there was plenty of precedent for this iconoclasm in City Hall. I didn't realise that the mayor before Helmholdt (when I was still a kid) was a Jew: Abe Drasin. And the mayor before him, in the early 1970's, was black: Lyman Parks, elected here when Detroit was still electing white guys to be mayor.

None of which makes any sense until you look at the big difference between city politics and the rest of politics in this city: the elections are held in odd-numbered years, and there are no party affiliations. I don't know Heartwell's or Logie's party registration (which is kinda the point) but they each hang with known Democrats and probably vote that way at least some of the time. But neither had to run for office with that word on their yard signs or next to their name on the ballot. And the local GOP wasn't obligated to field a prominent candidate to run under their banner to oppose either of them. I suspect it was much the same with Drasin and Parks: without their party to tell them whom to elect, the voters listened to the candidates, made up their mind based on what each person was like, and voted accordingly. The voter turn-out is also much smaller, which means that the dunderheads who just vote a straight GOP ticket stayed home, and neither party had a get-out-the-vote effort.

I'm not exactly endorsing low voter turn-out as a Good Thing (though there is a fairly strong argument to be made along those lines), but the non-partisanship of these city elections has put some darn good - and diverse - people in the mayor's office. And considering what a corrupt mess the rest of the party-driven electoral system has become over the past 200+ years, this is a good argument for doing away with - or at least cutting back the prominence of - political parties. They're undemocratic, and bad for the republic.

I've been Googled

Hey! I just got my first search-engine hit! Google sent someone looking for info about "sin eaters" to this site. Here's hoping for many more, on that and any other topics!

SCO Speaks! No One Listens!

I may have to change my name to "tt". That's because someone might think I have a connection to the software outfit SCO. And I don't want them taking me down with them when they die a painful death. The safest move would be to drop the "sco" from my name.

The Santa Cruz Operation, one of a handful of companies licenced to use the name and source code of (what used to be) AT&T's UNIX operating system, has sued IBM for allegedly taking some of that code and contributing it to Linux, which is available free of charge because all of the code that goes into it is (supposed to be) freely donated. SCO has been evasive and self-contradictory about the nature of the alleged infringement, claiming that full disclosure would make it possible for IBM and the rest of the Linux-developing community to stop infringing. Making it obvious that they're not interested in getting their intellectual property back, they just want a revenue stream. So SCO is using this specious claim as the basis to start charging Linux users - of which there are oodles - a fee to use SCO's supposedly proprietary code. It's extortion.

For more background, Linux Online has a timeline of the events of this bizarre case.

The thing that makes this so bizarre is the fact that SCO cannot possibly win this, and anyone familiar with the software industry - including, you'd think, the folks running SCO - would understand this. Even a legal amateur like me - who never went to law school - could take apart some of the basic legal errors they've made regarding copyright law. And the only examples they've produced are actually pieces of code that SCO has taken from other sources (under the same licence that allows Linux developers to do so), or which SCO themselves explicitly released as open source back when they distributed their own flavor of Linux.

Furthermore, they're taking on IBM. Now, Big Blue isn't the industry-dominating 800-pound gorilla they were back in the 1970's, but they're still huge (and much better-liked than they used to be). Even if SCO eventually produces credible evidence (which seems increasingly unlikely), IBM's lawyers will squash SCO's lawyers like bugs. I'll be the first to argue that the courts shouldn't work that way, but it's pretty obvious that they do.

Meanwhile, SCO plans to send invoices to corporations that use Linux, asking for $699 per server running the OS (non-refundable in the event that SCO loses in court). They ain't gonna pay. They're going to fight it. In an industry where every developer except Microsoft and some niche players are taking advantage of open-source software, and major corporations have made huge investments deploying such technology, SCO is taking on them all. Plus the huge population of independent techies who will recommend anybody but SCO the next time their bosses are looking to buy a Unix-type system. After alienating all of them, there's no one left to be friends with.

The most obvious explanation for this stunt is that it's a last-ditch attempt by a failing software company (and to be sure, SCO was in bad shape) to prop up its stock price long enough for its key stockholders to cash in. Another theory advanced by veteran industry watcher Robert X. Cringely - bolstered by reports that Microsoft has become an SCO customer, paying them money for Unix software they couldn't possibly have a use for - is that the Windows people are playing a game of "let's you and him fight". They get SCO to do the dirty work for them, tarnishing the reputation of Linux among the corporate types who get their technology news from the Wall Street Urinal. Then step back and watch their proxy get clobbered back. (Ever since IBM lost dominance of the industry, Microsoft has held the trademark on spreading Fear Uncertainty and Doubt. This whole thing smells like MS-FUD®)

This mess has served as just a pointless distraction from more important matters... like software development. SCO is doomed - as it was before all this - and the real victims are going to be its developers and other staff. Not only are they going to lose their jobs when SCO shuts down, but they'll have to put those letters "SCO" on their resumés... kind of like having to list Osama bin Laden as a former employer. The lucky ones are the folks who got out back when SCO was still called Caldera, and was a reputable Linux distributor.

Whoopi Family

The 2003-2004 TV season is officially underway, with NBC featuring debut episodes of two new sitcoms: "Whoopi" and "Happy Family". I find most sitcoms unwatchable, but I decided to give these two a look, based mostly on the stars (Whoopi Goldberg and John Larroquette, respectively). They're both simple-minded enough that they might find a large enough audience to last the season, but they're done with enough skill and a hint of intelligence to actually be worth watching if your Tuesday evening is free.

my rating:

"Whoopi" is a riff on the Workplace Sitcom, with an attention-commanding star running a business (in this case a small New York City hotel), surrounded by "colorful" staff. Part of the hook for the show is that the staff actually is somewhat colorful, with an Iranian handyman, Whoopi's white-acting brother, and his black-acting white girlfriend. (Ironically, this approach - but with a stronger depth of characterisation - was the general framework of Larroquette's series of several years ago.) In a TV landscape where most sitcoms are either mostly white (and aimed at a corresponding audience) or mostly black (and very clearly tailored for a black audience), a multi-ethnic cast aimed at a racially-broad demographic gets some attention.

It's certain to gain additional attention (deliberately so) for some of its "topical" ethnic humor. In particular, the handyman is sure to raise eyebrows, dropping references to seemingly terrorist connections on one hand, and taking offence at being mistaken for an Arab (native Iranians are Persian) on the other. Also, Whoopi ridicules President W's pronounciation of "nucular"... the sort of political irreverence that was commonplace on TV back when, say, Jimmy Carter routinely made the same elocutory error, but which today raises accusations of "disloyalty". Cheers to Whoopi for reminding us that it's OK to make fun of the president. (Especially when he's an idiot.)

So far all of the characters are 1.5-dimensional, except for Whoopi's character (a former one-hit wonder on the pop charts) which is 2-dimensional. Future episodes will determine whether they continue to retell the same middle-eastern/terrorist and black/white jokes over and over or keep it fresh.

my rating:

Meanwhile, John Larroquette has left his urban bus station for the sitcom cliché setting of the suburban family living room, complete with a couch at center stage. With co-star Christine Baranski as his wife, the gimmick in "Happy Family" is that the late-middle-aged couple is on the cusp of the empty-nest stage of their life together when it becomes clear that none of their three children is really ready for adulthood and true independence of the help and guidance of Mom and Dad. (I bet my parents can relate.) The youngest son has just flunked junior college and moves in with their divorced next-door-neighbor, the middle daughter is chronically dateless, and even the successful eldest son the dentist has both a fiancé and a girlfriend.

What saves this from being painful to watch are the performances, especially of the two stars. Rather than chewing the scenery like dorks and relying on the laugh track to get people to smile on cue, they keep the acting fairly low-key, and demonstrate just enough depth to let you care about them as characters. So far the three children are 1-dimensional, which is going to have to change to keep me interested, but it's off to a fair enough start that I'll let the TiVo record upcoming episodes.

Plus the youngest son appears twice in his briefs. {grin}

There may be a gem or maybe two yet to come in the latest round of disposable new sitcoms coming this Fall. But I doubt it. This could very well be the cream of the crop.

Ted Rall is an Ass

No matter how you look at him, Ted Rall is an ass.

If you used to watch Bill Maher's "Politically Incorrect" you were probably annoyed by his snotty off-topic post-9/11 comments about the illegitimacy of the G.W.Bush presidency. If you've seen his cartoons in your local alternative paper, you've probably had enough of his crude, blocky art and strident "humor". If you follow comics fandom, you may have seen the ugly mess of his legal feud with Danny Hellman. If you've read his graphic novel about his conflict with a high school bully My War with Brian, you probably put it down feeling sorry... for Brian. Rall's an ass.

But he is not (to use the British term) an arse. He is not full of shit.

In fact, when it comes to politics - especially international politics relating to places like Afghanistan - I bet you $20 he knows more than you do. He's well worth listening to.

After all, he's been there. He went to Afghanistan at the same time U.S. troops went to "get rid of" the Taliban after 9/11. For that matter, he'd been to "the Stans" (Afghanistan, Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan, Uzbekistan, Turkmenistan, Pakistan, et al.) repeatedly even before most Americans could find them on a globe. Even a labeled one.

In his book To Afghanistan and Back, Rall tells about his experiences as a journalist - the only cartoonist - in the first of the middle-eastern countries the U.S. "liberated" in its semi-official "War on Terror". The book consists of roughly half prose/half comics: a graphic novella (i.e. a short "graphic novel") sandwiched by text reports from the front.

First, for anybody questioning whether comics are an appropriate medium for covering something this serious: get over it. Cartoonists have covered wars, politics, and other serious matters for a century or more, and they do so every day in your local paper. See also: Art Spiegelmans' Pulitzer-winning Maus (about the Holocaust), Joe Sacco's Palestine and Safe Area Gorazde, or Joe Kubert's Fax from Sarajevo (whose topics are pretty self-evident).

The focus of Rall's book is personal, a travelogue of sorts, and in that sense he's a Good Reporter, sticking to what he knows. But he knows more than just what he's able to see, and he shares that insight - a combination of knowing the big picture and seeing the details up close - with his readers. Such as his perception of how the Northern Alliance "defeated" the Taliban: by Taliban supporters shaving their beards and joining the other side. Not because they'd been "liberated", but because they wanted to be part of the winning faction. So little actually changed but the fashions. Telling the real truth behind the story makes him an even Better Reporter.

The text and the novella repeat each other a little, but that's because they were originally written for different audiences. One "bit" covered in both accounts is the technically death of Swedish cameraman Ulf Stromberg; you can tell that hit Rall pretty close to home... for reasons made clear in the book. Although technically not a combat death, you get the sense of him as yet another casualty of another (and especially) nonsensical war. And while it may not hav made Rall any less of an ass (who knows, perhaps even more so), it lends some credence to the argument that Rall has a right to be an ass. And perhaps even a duty, because by not caring what people think of him, he has a chance at also affecting what they think of the world... and in this case, the U.S. policies and activities in the Stans of Central Asia.

Knightcrawler

I don't know who came up with it, but one sagacious definition of "leadership" is finding a parade and getting in front of it. That's what I'm doing with weblogging. {grin}

My old (in both senses of the word) friend Don Fox is largely to blame for inspiring me to hop on the weblogging bandwagon, and no sooner have I done so (without even consulting him about it), but he turns around and starts asking me for advice about software to run his weblog on. Presto! I'm the person to turn to for all your web-publshing needs!

So it's not entirely a coincidence that both he and I are now using Movable Type, he on his Mac and me on one of my Linux boxes. Think about it: Although he's certainly more tech-savvy than the average AOL user, he's no Comp Sci geek. And yet the boy is running an entire electronic publishing system from a stylish piece of consumer electronics sitting on his desk, dependent on no one but the people who ran the cable to his house to provide him with internet connectivity, and his local electricity utility.

This to me is one of the great things to happen on the internet: people sharing technology to empower each other. And it's to the credit of people like Apple, the various Linux and BSD factions, the developers of (to spotlight one of several weblogging systems) Movable Type (and the software it runs on: Perl, and Berkeley DB or MySQL etc.), and let's not forget the contributors to Gecko and KHTML (the rendering technology behind Netscape/Mozilla and Safari, respectively), and for heaven's sake Tim Berners-Lee (who invented the WWW and then declined to patent it, but instead has given that tech to the whole world)... nearly all of which is freely available to anyone who wants it. If you're so inclined, you can even roll up your sleeves and change it to work the way you want it to. (And yes, that "nearly all" includes Mac OS X; you can't get the full package free of charge, but the core of it, the part that Don's using to run his weblog - an OS called Darwin - is as free and open as Linux.) With so much great software available and interchangeable between operating systems, allowing each of us to do our own thing with it, who the fuck needs (or wants) Microsoft?

But I Digress. I was talking about "nitecrawler". Or "nightcrawler". Or maybe it's "knightcrawler". He can't seem to make up his mind how to spell it. In addition to inspiring me to start weblogging, "nytecrawler" helped to deflower me, bring me out, and teach me radical thinking back in the waning days of that dark period known as the 1980's. Read his weblog "gnitecrawler". You'll learn something. Just remember: I taught him everything he knows... or was it vice versa?

My Ride's Here

Not very surprisingly (I practically predicted it the other day), Warren Zevon died yesterday. I figured he wouldn't last long after the release of The Wind, since people have a tendency to die shortly after achieving a milestone (probably because they will themselves to hang on a little longer to reach them). Like I said, this was as good a way to go out as one could hope for.

Convicted Pedophile?

An article in today's Detroit News refers to a particular man as a "convicted pedophile". I see this phrase a lot, and the amateur lawyer/editor in me wants to scream every time. It's a sloppy, incorrect phrase.

Pedophilia itself isn't a crime, and this man hasn't been convicted of it. He was convicted of criminal sexual conduct involving a minor, or in regular English: he sexually molested a girl. Is he a pedophile? Apparently. A pedophile is someone who is sexually attracted to children (boys and/or girls)... whether he acts on it or not. But we don't lock people up for what goes on in the privacy of their own head (or underwear). It's not even a crime to admit being a pedophile. Because we don't lock people up for what they say, either.

It's only a crime to act on it, by actually having sexual contact with a minor. And not everyone who does that is really a pedophile, in much the same way that not every rapist is sexually attracted to his victim. It can also be motivated by rage, a demonstration of the perpetrator's power, or just not caring who or what he fucks.

The important factor - and the whole reason any of this is a crime - is the victimisation of a person, a child. If a pedophile has the good judgment to keep his hands to himself (whether out of guilt over his feelings, fear of reprisal, or just plain self-restraint) our legal system - appropriately - won't touch him. And if anyone sexually abuses a child (with whatever motivation) our legal system - again appropriately - will punish him.

"So why are you so concerned about this?" you ask, suspiciously. For the record, the youngest person I've ever had sexual contact with was 16... when I was 17. Like I said, it's mostly the sloppy use of language which bothers me, especially involving legal terminology. Newspapers take care to refer to someone who's just been arrested as "the suspect", or when he's on trial "the defendant", rather than just calling him "the perpetrator" (even when it's obvious that he is), because that's the correct legal terminology. "Convicted pedophile" is not. But they use it anyway.

I'm also reminded of terms like "convicted homosexual" which were commonplace in (for example) Nazi Germany, and Victorian England (such as the trial of Oscar Wilde). In those societies, you could be convicted of simply being homosexual, without any identifiable non-consensual victim. Being a homosexual myself, that notion bothers me. So I can empathise with any non-practising pedophiles reading in the paper today about someone who - if the writer's phrasing can be trusted - was convicted of simply being a pedophile.

It promotes a stereotype. I don't know what the percentages are, but I'd guess that a lot (maybe even most) people with an attraction to youngsters (wisely) don't ever act on it. But "convicted pedophile" makes it sound like they all do. It's an offensive stereotype, much like calling someone a "convicted heterosexual" instead of "convicted rapist", or a "convicted accountant" instead of "convicted tax cheat".

I don't know whether pedophilia is something that can be "treated" or "cured", or if it's just God's idea of a cruel joke. But regardless, I don't think it's a good idea to drive pedophiles into hiding by making it sound like they will be (or should all be) thrown in jail "just in case". We should instead be encouraging pedophiles to admit their condition so they can get help (if it's treatable), or to acknowledge who they are so they can get support in dealing with their unfortunate situation (if it's not). Toward that end, getting the terminology right, and writing "convicted child molester" would be a step in the right direction.

P.S. In this article, I referred to both rapists and pedophiles as "he" or "him". Contrary to popular assumption, women can rape people, and I assume there are female pedophiles as well. I just didn't want to bog the point down by introducing that concept into it.

Jesus on Trial

Jesus has been rejected by the Supremes.

The Supremes in this case are the justices of the Supreme Court. And Jesus is a latino comics retailer with the last name Castillo. But just like his namesake, Jesus Castillo has been convicted by a corrupt system, for doing nothing wrong.

The original charge - brought by the Dallas police department - was that Castillo sold a pornographic comicbook about alien/human sex, which was clearly labeled for sale to adults only... to an adult. That adult was an undercover cop, engaging in a sting intended to gain brownie points among the local voters. The book wasn't on the shelf next to Archie; it was out of reach of any (infrequent) child who walked into the shop. But the fact that there was a school nearby, and the antiquated notion that comics are only for kids, combined to convince a jury of idiots that Jesus Castillo had done something wrong. And the Supreme Court refused to hear his appeal.

The idea that comics are only for kids is not only out of date, it's almost backwards. Since the 1970's, underground cartoonists have published comics (or "comix") that were clearly intended for grown-ups. R. Crumb's fetishistic women in Zap Comix, Gilbert Shelton's pot-smoking Furry Freak Brothers, and the queer strip Big Dick demonstrated - way back when I was still a child - that some comics were specifically for adults. And ever since comicbooks disappeared from your local newsstand and the prices went up, the primary audience - even of superheroes like Spider-Man or Superman - has been men in their 20's - 40's with their own transportation and disposable income. Most kids today don't even know that comics shops exist. And they certainly aren't buying porn from people like Jesus Castillo.

It's easy to dismiss this case as "just Texas" and "just comics", but not when it's tacitly upheld by the U.S. Supreme Court. The store where Castillo worked no longer sells comics with explicit content. To anybody. Which is just what the people behind this want. What it really means is that your local sheriff has the authority to throw someone in jail for selling books to adults that are inappropriate for children. Congress keeps passing laws that try to apply the same rule to the internet, requiring that everything published be kept at a level suitable for children, or face criminal charges. Once upon a time I would've thought that was OK. But now I'm a grown-up, and capable of thinking for myself. If you are, then you should be very concerned about this latest attack on our civil liberties.

U-Over-Haul

This site has just undergone a complete overhaul. Not just selecting a new style template, but a complete replacement of the technology behind it and rebuilding from scratch on that new foundation. OK, I'm still using HTTP and the ASCII character set and so on, but I'm no longer using Blogger. I've swapped it for the Movable Type "personal publishing system".

Blogger's a nice system run by nice folks, but their server had some problems yesterday, and was down this morning. (With that Microsoft-carried shit going around the net these days, it's little surprise.) No big deal, since I'd hosted the site here on my own server. My site was still up. But it meant I couldn't use their tools to update it. I'm sure it's an isolated incident (especiallty now that Google is running the service) but I have no patience for that sort of dependency, so my "if you want something done right..." reaction kicked in. Time to install my own content-management system.

I started exploring what sort of open-source software was out there. (Hey, self-reliance doesn't mean reinventing the wheel.) I looked at several options, but Greymatter and Movable Type seemed the best suited to my purposes: well-regarded, widely-used, Linux-friendly, weblog publishing tools, that I could use free of charge. Movable Type isn't truly free (you have to pay for commercial or shared use), but I like its support for categories, which was something I was already trying to hack onto Blogger's system, so it got the nod.

It wasn't too difficult to install. The biggest frustration came from the fact that (of the several database options it supports) I chose MySQL... which requires a wee bit of do-it-yourself setup, and I'd forgotten most of what I'd once learned about the system. After a little swearing and some browsing of the docs, I had the whole Movable Type system up and running. It has the ability to import Blogger data, but I figured it'd be easier to cut and paste the handful of entries I'd already made. The hardest part of the whole process was turning the painfully bland default template into something more appealing... which I might have avoided if I'd thought to check MovableType.org for some alternative style sheets which would've given me a head start. So I got to flex my CSS muscles a bit as well. But this overhaul didn't turn out bad for a few hours' work (if I may say so myself).

The Order - Would You Like Fries With That?

my rating:

I was afraid Nathan was going to want to see Dickie Roberts: Former Child Star starring David Spade. Spade has yet to entice me laugh at anything he's ever done, and the only movies he's been in that I enjoyed at all had nothing to do with his involvement. In a freudian slip of the tongue, I referred to his new film once as Dickie Roberts: Former Child Porn Star, and frankly that sounds like it would be funnier - if it were written by and starred someone else - than what I've seen in the trailer for this film.

Anyway, I managed to steer Nathan into seeing The Order instead. Not that I really wanted to see it, and the fact that the critics weren't allowed to preview it was a very bad sign (e.g. From Justin to Kelly), but I've already seen everything else worth seeing at the cineplexes, and I figured it'd be better than having to sit through David Spade: Former SNL Star. Besides, Heath Ledger's nice to look at.

It's not bad, but not very remarkable either. The premise of the story is that there is someone called a "sin eater" who - for reasons never really explained - is able to consume a dying person's sins (through the instrument of a piece of bread), thereby absolving that person of any guilt and giving him a free pass into Heaven... but since he operates outside of the hierarchy of the church, and Catholic doctrine says that salvation only comes through the church, he's a heretic and the Vatican's representative wants Ledger's character to kill him. In defiance of both common sense and Christian theology, this sin-eating makes the guy essentially immortal. But Ledger's something of a rogue priest, acting in defiance of the hierarchy, secretly longing for a woman, etc. posing all kinds of moral dilemmas or something.

The whole thing takes some familiarity with Catholic theology to even get at handle on, but anyone with enough background to get it will also see that it makes no sense. The notion that anyone can bypass the rules to get someone into Heaven - i.e. doing so in violation of God's laws - is logically absurd. If God allows the loophole to exist, then God must approve of it. The movie suggests that sometimes the sin-eater can do The Right Thing, such as granting a Get Out of Hell Free card to someone the church had groundlessly excommunicated. I assume this is the role the historical "sin eaters" took upon, acting as freelance forgivers, granting the comfort of "absolution" to individuals the Catholic church had shut out for what amounted to bureaucratic technicalities.

All of which just underscores what a ridiculous charade the whole thing is. You've got your authorised absolutionists with their Official Roman Catholic brand purification rites, and your grey-market absolutionists with their own little private-label ritual. More than anything else, it reminds me of the "faith healing" charlatans who'd perform their little shows with chicken innards to trick idiots into thinking that they were magically removing some ailment from a sick person. Same thing; different song and dance. And all this movie does is show how this "sin eater" schtick is no different from the wafer-serving schtick offered weekly at your local Roman Catholic outlet.

I'll Sleep When I'm Dead

Warren Zevon's last album recently came out. I've only heard a couple tracks from it so far, on the radio, and while they seemed more subdued than, say, "Excitable Boy" "Mr. Bad Example", or "Lawyers, Guns, & Money" they were solid stuff. The Wind is not a bad way to go out.

For those unaware, Zevon's been living under a death sentence the past year: a diagnosis of terminal lung cancer. His response was to start recording another album. Of course there was no shortage of famous friends who went out of their way to lend their performances - and moral support - to the recording sessions. But the focus is still on him, and I trust him to pull it off; only a man with his wry attitude toward mortality would have the artistic guts to record "Knockin' On Heaven's Door" while he's doing so himself.

I've heard some people say that they hope this isn't really Zevon's last album, that he'll live to record more, etc. I hope not. Don't get me wrong: I'd be happier if he were healthy, and I'd love it if he could stick around and share more of his talent with us. But personally, I wish him a timely departure, with a minimum of discomfort. Nobody ever gets enough time to do everything they wanted, but his goal was to record one more album, and despite some times when it looked like he wasn't going to finish... he did. He lived the see the birth of his twin grandchildren. But he's too weak for a "farewell tour", or even to do publicity interviews for the album. Short of a miracle (yeah, right), he's not going to get any better. From what little I know of the man from his recordings, and based on everything I've read, he's as ready to die as a person can be. Sounds like the right time to go. We should all be so lucky.

Sleep well, Warren. Thanks.

Rushing the Quarterback

OK, so the NFL (or ESPN or whoever cut the deal) has hired Rush Limbaugh to provide color commentary for their games (that color being primarily "white" of course, but not a very bright one).

I'm actually glad to hear it. The fact that he's available to do this - at a price the footballers are willing to pay - is one more indicator that the guy's career has peaked. His sportertainment-industry bosses aren't going to let him use it as a platform for the kind of stoopidly outrageous crap he says on his own program. He'll also be playing second fiddle, sharing the mike with (unless NFL/ESPN is more fucked up than I - a non-viewer - realise) black announcers.

And it's one more reason not to bother watching football, a "spectator sport" that routinely challenges baseball, golf, and auto racing for tedium.

Gay Marriage

Against gay marriage?

Then don't have one.

Could anything be more obvious?

Seriously, if you consider marriage to be a sacred institution before God, then the government has no business dictating who can participate in it; that should be up to the individuals and/or their religious community. Or if you consider marriage to be a civil recognition of a personal relationship, then limiting it to couples based on their genders is inequal treatment. The government simply has no right to deny consenting adults the right to marry.

Introduction

This is long overdue.

As a long-time journal-ist (not to be confused with "journalist"), opinion-monger, and web publisher, I would have expected me to have started a weblog ages ago. In a sense, I did: with my earlier web publishing efforts, posting my essays and reviews on the web as far back as 1995 or 1996. And I've made half-starts at launching an ongoing column in recent years. But the "blog" phenomenon got underway without me. Largely because of my elitist "I don't need no stinkin' browser-based toy for non-techies" attitude. Which is true. But lately I've come to be more accepting of "crutches" of this sort, so I've signed up with Blogger. Still, I'm hosting the thing on my own damn site and customising the look and feel, thankyouverymuch.

One thing I never expected to do is to publish a column without my full name attached. I'm not ashamed of anything I say and stand by it all, and I generally regard the people who hide behind "handles" as intellectual cowards. But I've been burned: the chance discovery of stuff I'd put online has fucked me over professionally, and I'd rather not go through that again. So I've adopted "Scott Speaks" as a pen-name, like "Mark Twain" or "Ann Landers" both of whose real names were known, if it really mattered enough to you to ask. This should give me the freedom to be more thoroughly candid, without worrying about it affecting my ability to earn a living, or to live in peace. I plan to cover a wide range of topics, because that's how my mind works. To help people find items of interest, I'll be tagging them with icons indicating the general topics or categories each one covers.