Scared? Really?

I'm not one for human politics, but there's been a new fad circulating that I really must crush swiftly.

"Scared."

That's got to go, people.

Almost every partisan I've heard has, at least once, resorted to the "I'm really scared of what may happen to this country if So-and-So gets the nomination."

I've heard people express "fear" of what would become of their nation under a Reagan Administration, a Clinton Administration, a Bush Administration. I recall Republicans absolutely gasping for breath after being "drowned" in Clinton for eight years, and I hear the same gasping this year, now coming from downtrodden Democrats.

But...

Really?

"Scared?"

As in, "My life, liberty and choices will fundamentally change for the worse if some politician gets a job and that makes me scared?"

People.

Calm down. If you've never led a rearguard action against the roving Stone Imps of the Mystery Leviathan, you may want to re-apply your use of the word "scared." That, my (imaginary) friends, was scary. Voting for a civil servant, even if he's sort of corrupt, or stupid, vain or mean-spirited, isn't going to thawart the restoration of your nation's mythical glory.

Because you live in a free nation, I'm afraid the duty for participating in the country's glory falls on someone else's shoulders.

Yours.

Keep in mind that, my simple public expression (whether you agree with it or not) by its very existence proves unequivocably that Orwell's nightmare scenario has in no way descended upon this nation (and, if you needed this blog to prove that to you, well...you're welcome.) And Clinton didn't turn this country into an orgy of selfish cultural cannibalism either.

Your cute little nation, with its ideals of debate and independence, representation and minority voices, still stands. Trust me, when the trolls take over, you'll know. The good news is, you won't have to worry about voting for the one who loses the contest. The bad news is, you won't have a vote at all.*

*[And the really good news is that Trollkind is pretty disorganized and generally underachieves. Once we tried to organize a raiding party, but ended up just wandering around at the mall.]

Decanal Adjectives of Majestic Authority

These days, adjectives (and their even more despised kin, adverbs) are as unwelcome as a barnacle on a beauty queen.

Some of this has to do with the prejudice of an increasingly ignorant readership. That's right, I said it again: humans are stupider about words than they used to be. [Way smarter about pictures, though, but don't tell them I said so.]

Some of this has to do with the prejudice of an increasingly prickly batch of publishers who have seen far more adjective abuse than any creature ever should.

Adjectives are easy to strike. Their presence doesn't technically change the objective meaning of a sentence.

But they shouldn't be carelessly expelled. Wouldn't it be great if writers could still get away with absolutely brilliant prose like:

It was truly an awful moment; with terror in that ancient and accursed house itself, four monstrous sets of fragments-two from the house and two from the well-in the woodshed behind, and that shaft of unknown and unholy iridescence from the slimy depths in front.

~H.P. Lovecraft - The Colour Out of Space

I say bury 'em in adjectives. It'll at least give the copy editor something to do.

Iron Man is a Movie about a Man With a Suit of Iron

There's a little independent movie making the art house circuit right now called Iron Man. I'm sure you haven't heard of it, but here's hoping it finds an audience.

I believe that it is a meditation about a man on the precipice of honor, and his inner conflict as he struggles with his personal identity as it relates within the pressures of an upper class upbringing. Or something.

Also: there's explosions.


Wildly Popular 'Iron Man' Trailer To Be Adapted Into Full-Length Film

Troll Gentle, Monster Kind

You don't want to hear this any more than I want to say it, but...boss's orders:

You might be lost, looking in the world for the one thing that will actualize you, while simultaneously running from the One thing you don't want to admit might be able to provide that connection.

Tough beans.

Turn around. Admit you've got no idea.

Repent, sinner! Repent!

Kickin' it old school. Hope this helps.

I ate a helicopter. Sorry.

Note to self: if you are going to grill a hot dog, wrap it in bacon, bury it in cheese cubes, pour chili over it, top it with shredded cheese and sour cream, do not wrap it in a spaghetti taco.

Sounding good in theory is not the same thing as feeling good in belly.

Tasty though.

Dorrie the Little Witch!

My close* personal** friend*** Patrick Rothfuss reminded me today...ever so slowly...of Dorrie, the Little Witch!

I just had to put her somewhere I wouldn't forget her!

Thanks, buddy old pal Patrick. Are we still on for that...uhm...undefined occasion when we together (except in totally separate locations) will watch the same television program or perhaps instead take note of the local weather? Great. It's a date.

*I believe he lives in a nearby state, such as Wisconsin or Maine.

**As in, "not personal at all."

***Using the definition of "friend" loosely, as in "George Washington and the Red Baron are super good friends, because they both knew where the Atlantic Ocean was."

Via (somewhat indirectly) The Flog of Felicia Day

QUICK TIME SENSITIVE UPDATE - Patrick Rothfuss is having a book signing at an independent bookstore TOMORROW in WISCONSIN. If you are capable of either tomorrow OR Wisconsin, you should consider it. He is a book writer of quality. Expires 5/4/08

Brain Stratego on a Risk Board

By mercy, I've been given a pretty effective tactic in this rolling little war with Thor. Only two words, but they have been invaluable:

Think. Slower.

Dream of the Rude

Once, in a great moon, a human bothers to note that monsters still quietly roam, outside the range of cellphone cameras and AP wires. We show up on blogs, occassionally, but, if anyone is reading them, no one certainly believes them!

When I goof up and actually am noted, one of the first questions I'm asked either subtly or overtly depends on the disposition of the asker.

If the asker is a follower of boss Jesus, he usually asks something along the lines of "Aren't you worried that you are obscuring His mission with your constant cultural garbage?"

If the asker has nothing to do with Christ, his complaint is the reverse. "Shaddup about the Freak already, get to the decadent showtunes and French postcards already!"

Which gives me a good idea that I'm executing the Troll-Lord's commission: don't be the scit -- but be in the scit.*

I try damn** hard to keep my theology tight as a drum while pounding away at the beat of a world so loved that some god died for it. I don't know which side I'll err on at any given time. I just hope I err.

Error is the only way I know I'm trying.

*Believe it or not, I still read and recite in the Anglo-Saxon tongue from time to time. It comes in handy when I need to express something earthy without justifying my word choices. And frankly, I still think the Dream of the Rood opens best in its original language.

**Yes, literally "damn." Gotta keep sheol and its destiny in mind -- keeps me desperately focused. Yeah, even when I'm faking an interview with Steve Allen.

Because I Don't Play Nice

There's really only one way to celebrate May Day.

My imaginary readers are just going to have to forgive me in advance.

It's Lordi time.

Don't follow the link if you can't handle the Troll-spawned Gospel of the Arockalypse.

Vomiting Jesus

Two of my favorite musicians, Sara Groves and Jonny Lang have a conversation about the Ru'ach. I've never seen an account of conversion that so closely echoed my own.

Jonny:


Sara:

If You Didn't Love Me...

...you wouldn't be reading this. Oh wait! You aren't!

I'm glad Phil Stacey does:

Demon to Appear at Awards Banquet

My favorite modern weird book on the planet, Demon: A Memoir, just got nominated for a major award.

Okay, not that major award. A different one. One that, should an author win it, comes with a thingy that goes on the bookcovers of re-issues, a lot more attention in bookstores and, if I'm not mistaken, a compass in the stock.

Wait, that's Christmas Story again.

But, hey, this really is a Christmas story, because sometimes the good guys win at the end, sometimes no one sees you in the bunny costume, sometimes you do get the Red Ryder bb gun and sometimes, just sometimes, the publishing industry realizes it has something really great on its hands.

Congratulations to all the Christy nominees, including Tosca Lee, but special congratulations to the nominating committee for recognizing what a literary triumph Demon really is.

Soli Deo gloria.

Via Toscology

The Kinks in Christ's Kingdom

The Kingdom of Heaven doesn't always seem that great.

If Jesus ushered it in, drew it near to us with his very life, sometimes it is difficult to grasp why it is so unspectacular.

I account for this in a lot of ways:

a) God is humble. It is this very unseemly part of his character that rubs me the wrong way. I like blasting my way through, showing off my superior marksmanship and dazzling feats of cultural bravado. His humility makes me look downright stupid. His kingdom is humble, too. Apparently, keeping me entertained isn't one of its house rules.

b) Kingdoms are expansive, not personal. The Kingdom of Heaven demands more in contribution than it pays out in benefit. Thats what a Kingdom does: stretching out authority over a large community of people. The bad news is that there are no idols to the individual in a Kingdom. The good news is that spreading the authority over everyone means that every one matters.

c) I am the Kink.* Because the Kingdom is contributive as well as experiential, present as well as future, I matter to it, at least as far as I view it. There is a part of me that I try to withhold from God. There is treasure I won't store here, words I won't put here, hope I won't place here.** If it could be done, I rob heaven of its potential.

*And not in the rockin' good Davies brothers kind of Kink.

**Please note that I write "here" and not "there" because that is what we mean when we talk about the Kingdom of God. It isn't some cloud fairyland on a far distant shore in outer space. It is, at least in portion, here. Now. Look it up.

Starlet Watch: Viji Nathan Reigns Over Beer Ad

This weekend, I saw a Heineken commercial during the playoffs. Yeah, call the President. What made it special, though, was that the new commercial featured Viji Nathan about halfway through it. I know I don't have to tell you (i.e. me) who she iss, but just in case the internet is watching I'll mention her appearance on episodes 6 and 7 of The Guild as Zaboo's mom.

Look for her at about the 30 second mark.



FoG made me aware of Scott Jorgenson at which point I noticed him in the Qwest commercial. The Guild introduced me to Viji Nathan, at which point I noticed her in the Heineken commercial. Now, if McDonald's can just get Scott and Viji to collaborate, perhaps that will lead to the starring roles in the major motion picture adaptation of Cover Girl comics. Hollywood will usher in a new Golden Age.

Why I do this, please don't ask. I haven't an answer. I do know that Jorge Luis Borges once wrote that there is a kind of lazy pleasure in useless and out-of-the-way erudition. I'd add that there is a kind of useless pleasure in lazy and out-of-the-way visualization.

New Soul, Strange World, Savage Faith, Joyous Grace

If, buried in the heart of this monster, collected in a deep pool of memory, there is an experience which contains the chronicle of God's ferocious attack on my sensibilities, it might be expressed visually in this way: