Aliens

I was in first grade when Star Wars was released in theaters, and it shaped my life going forward. The whole franchise has had its ups and downs, 1 but the original trilogy was like nothing that had come before and was copied, poorly, so many times after that.

Luke was dreamy and all back then, but Han Solo was definitely the cool one when it came to the guys in the movie. But even better than Han, who, come on, we all know was the coolest, was Chewbacca. Wookiees, for being walking carpets, are badasses, basically the Vikings of Star Wars. He could rip the arms off of anyone he lost to playing Space Chess, he could put C-3PO back together, he carried a gun that no one else had, and he was an amazing pilot. But the best part about Chewbacca was that he was completely different than the Core 3 – hairy, 7 feet tall, he wore no clothes. He was not human, and I loved that.

All of the aliens in Star Wars have their cool factor. Greedo, even though he’s a terrible shot, was interesting looking. Walrus Man, Hammerhead, 2 Yoda, Rancors, Ugnaughts, Nien Nunb, anybody that wasn’t human in Star Wars was cool to me. Even Bib Fortuna, probably the lamest of the Star Wars aliens, probably had his good qualities, even if he did lasciviously, and very sexually, stroke R2D2 3 at Jabba’s palace.

So I religiously watched every one of the movies, TV shows, or comics with aliens in it. I was obsessed. In book form we had the Mysteries of the Unknown Time Life book series. Aliens, the Tunguska Blast, Ancient Astronauts, telekenesis – I ate that shit up as a kid.

But a weird thing happens when you get to be an adult – those things gradually become less cool and, sadly, more scary. It’s probably the child-to-adult ability to lose the wonder of those far fetched things and see that, much like Whitley Strieber sees them, aliens are freaking scary. Just ask Fox Mulder.

Would you want to come face to face with a humanoid-like creature that transported itself across the vast darkness of space and was interested in humans enough that it was willing to abduct them and stick things into their orifices? And the people that this happened to have little to no memory of it happening? Which means that these poor people were in such abject terror that their minds forced them to forget getting probed or injected or whatever someone from Out There finds scientifically interesting. If Communion is real and right, these things came here, and they probably don’t have the best of intentions. More likely, they see us as we see insects, a thing to study, step on, and discard.

The Fermi Paradox calms my pulse a little bit after that paragraph. In a nutshell it states that (thanks to Wikipedia) –

  • There are billions of stars in the Milky Way similar to the Sun.
  • With high probability, some of these stars have Earth-like planets orbiting in the habitable zone.
  • Many of these stars, and hence their planets, are much older than the Sun. If Earth-like planets are typical, some may have developed intelligent life long ago.
  • Some of these civilizations may have developed interstellar travel, a step that humans are investigating.
  • Even at the slow pace of envisioned interstellar travel, the Milky Way galaxy could be completely traversed in a few million years.
  • Since many of the Sun-like stars are billions of years older than the Sun, the Earth should have already been visited by extraterrestrial civilizations, or at least their probes.

So, the conclusion is more than likely either aliens saw us and weren’t interested in us. The other possibility is that our galaxy is so huge (traveling at the speed of light (670.6 million miles per hour), it could take the Millennium Falcon, 105,700 light years, to possibly reach us from a far point in the Outer Rim) that a Type 2 or Type 3 level of technological advancement (humans are about .7 on the scale that measures that, the Kardashev scale) can be blind to our presence. And given that we have been sending signals into space for decades, they could one day receive those (probably 100,000 of our years from now), but it would take an equal amount of time to receive their reply.

So, them knowing we’re here is a possibility, but then again we might be safe, for now.

All of this is leading to…

I saw this story on The Atlantic today. A little from the article, as it is paywalled –

On Monday night, someone placed a peculiar bet on the prediction market Kalshi. At 7:45 p.m. eastern time, a single trader put down nearly $100,000 on the claim that, by the end of December, the Trump administration will confirm that alien life or technology exists elsewhere in our universe. According to The Atlantic’s review of Kalshi’s trading data, about 35 minutes after this bet was executed, it was followed by another that was almost twice as large (possibly from the same person). These were market-moving events: For one brief stretch, the market appeared to think that there was at least a one-in-three chance that the U.S. government will announce the existence of aliens this year. Perhaps this was just some overexcited UFO diehard with a hunch and money to burn. Or maybe, as some observers quickly noted, it was a trader with inside knowledge.

Prediction markets are becoming a thing. The government doesn’t know if it’s illegal betting or a legit way for the public to weigh in on topics of the day that may 4 come to pass. They seem like a shitty way for people in the know to do what is, in effect, insider trading, if you ask me. A bet was placed on Polymarket (which you can google, I will not be linking to their slop) about the capture of Nicolas Maduro mere hours before The Tyrant announced that the US had attacked Venezuela. Whoever it was got a $400,000 payout.

And on these sites you can bet on literally anything. Is JFK still alive? Who will win the 2030 Super Bowl? When will The Tyrant die? You can make thousands of dollars, if you’re willing to put up thousands. And it all is, for now, completely unregulated, which makes it basically insider trading, if you know something that no one else knows.

So, does someone know that the regime is about to make an announcement about our place in the universe? Could it all just be a diversion away from something that The Tyrant might do at that time so we don’t realize what’s going on until it’s too late? It wouldn’t be the first time that this sort of thing has happened. To divert from the Epstein files attention, the administration stoked stories about former president Obama and Russian election interference in 2016.

They do this kind of thing all the time, and it’s all just to rile up people and get them off of what is important.

But the kid in me is curious. Does someone really know something? And is it about to come out in public?

The government has hidden secret technology from the public in the past. Our top secret spy planes, the current Boeing X-37, which can stay in space, unmanned, for years. What is it doing up there? They won’t say.

So if there are aliens out there, and it is revealed that they’re out there, what does that do to humanity? We’re suddenly not alone. Does humanity have a collective freak out and head for the bunkers? What does religion do in this situation? Do we try to communicate with these beings or do we stop all signals to space, hoping to hide from the Type 2 and Type 3 civilizations that may be out there?

If that day is coming, humanity will have to have The Great Reckoning about our place in the universe. Are we going to be bulldozed by the Vogons? Have First Contact with the Vulcans? Or could it be Independence Day?

I would hope that it’s choice #2. I would like my body to remain probe-free.

UPDATE: And now the US government has registered aliens.gov.

  1. I’m looking at you, Rise of Skywalker and season 3 of The Mandalorian[↩]
  2. yes, I know they have canonical names now, but they were named this first, thanks to Kenner[↩]
  3. gross[↩]
  4. or may not[↩]

I Have Missed This

Many, many times over the past years I have said to myself, “I’m going to go back to writing.” And all of those times other things came up. Family, work, computer projects, moving, jobs, friends, etc, so many other things that were, naturally, more important than this silly thing.

But I didn’t stop thinking about it. My old hosting expired and I didn’t do anything about it. Someone bought my old domain (what an asshole!) and I can get it back for a princely sum, apparently. But ha, I am smarter than that! I will get A COMPLETELY DIFFERENT DOMAIN that has a COMPLETELY DIFFERENT NAME!

As you can see, it’s not much different than the old one. Just minus one letter. If that’s what keeps me from having to fork over $4500 (yes, that’s the amount the domain overlords want for it) then they can keep it.

But so much has happened since I left.

A tyrant was in power when I left, and a tyrant is in power again. And he’s more of an asshole this time than last time.

So much has happened, and my brain has been on pause. Between everything (mentioned in the first paragraph) and politics (it’d be nice to go an entire day without having someone’s name or voice shoved at me), I’ve got other thoughts.

To quote the late great Rob Reiner –

But hey, enough of my yakkin’, what ya say, let’s boogie!

The Dying Art of Passing Courteously in Biking

For the uninitiated out there, there are 2 types of biker — road bikers and off-road bikers (what non Texans would call mountain bikers, but we don’t have hardly any mountains, so…). I am an off-road biker and get fairly sick of the holier than thou attitude of most road bikers (which will be detailed below). Most of my problem with them comes from their inability to warn you that they’re going to pass you, which can turn a relaxing ride into a terrifying very quickly.

True, I’m sure there are off-road bikers who don’t do this, but the vast majority of the times this has happened to me, it has been a road biker.

Biking in Dallas is tough, but it’s getting better. But it’s getting better. Most trails are just wide sidewalks, so you’re sharing that trail not just with other bikers, but families, pets, strollers, and children running wildly and not looking where they’re going. We’ve had joggers killed by cyclists in Dallas, and granted, from how I’m reading it, it wasn’t the cyclists fault (the jogger made an abrupt U-turn on the trail straight into a cyclist who was riding up behind her). But it highlights one of the problems with modern cycling. Cyclists have to share the road, and from my perspective, most cyclists are not very good stewards of this.

Continue Reading “The Dying Art of Passing Courteously in Biking”

21 Years Later, We’re Still Taking Our Damn Shoes Off at the Airport Because of the Shoe Bomber

I’m about to go on a trip in the very near future, and one thing I will have to do before boarding the airplane (since I have applied, but have not been interviewed or approved for the Global Entry program) is take my shoes off and run them through the metal detector at an airport security checkpoint. Before Global Entry, everyone, regardless of who you were, had to take their shoes off and run them through the metal detector. It’s an inconvenience that came to life thanks to the man above – Richard Colvin Reid, also known as the Shoe Bomber.

On December 22, 2001, Reid boarded a Miami-bound flight from Paris wearing his special shoes that were packed with plastic explosives and a detonator cord that he would have to light. After he was reported to be acting strangely on the flight, Reid grabbed a woman who was curious about what he was doing (he was attempting to light the detonator cord attached to his shoe). Reid, a large man, was 6′ 4″ and weighed 215 pounds, was subdued by several passengers who used plastic handcuffs, seatbelt extensions, leather waist belts and headphone cords to restrain him. A doctor on board gave him a sedative from the emergency medical kit of the plane and they diverted course to Logan Airport in Boston, where he was immediately arrested on touchdown.

Apparently, the explosives didn’t detonate because of rainy weather in Paris – the detonator cord had become too wet in the Parisian rain.

So, the next time you’re stressed and late for your flight and have to take your shoes off at airport security, curse the name of Richard Reid. It’s all his fault. 1

  1. Of course, if he’d been successful, this would have been a tragedy. Fortunately, fate decided to not cause anybody harm that day. Except for Reid, who was sentenced to three consecutive life sentences and 110 years with no possibility of parole.[↩]

Boba Fett is a Terrible Bounty Hunter

Boba Fett, for all of his cool street cred and name recognition and raspy voice and supposed toughness, is just not very good at his chosen profession. Bounty hunters have to go after the worst of the worst, they’re basically mercenary police officers, and those kind of people have to have something about them that screams, “Look, dude, don’t mess with me, because I am so much more of a bad dude than you are.” Boba Fett has that vibe, that je ne sais quoi that projects intimidation, when, in fact, he is anything but a professional. He is, in fact, the clumsiest luckiest SOB in the whole Star Wars universe.

I’m basing this solely off of the original Star Wars films that Mr. Fett appears in and not any of the expanded universe, expanded editions or prequel stuff that came later. If you read books or watch cartoons based on the expanded universe you learn more about Boba Fett, and how he really is a totally bad dude who can survive falling into the stomach of the Sarlacc, but I’m not focusing on that, because diving into the expanded universe is a never-ending slogfest of links and other characters whose names you don’t know. I’ll be focusing only on the parts of the original trilogy where Boba Fett appears or does something, nothing more.

Continue Reading “Boba Fett is a Terrible Bounty Hunter”

The song “Bells” from “Christmas In The Stars” Proves that Earth Exists in the Star Wars Universe

Even though it existed long ago in a galaxy far, far away, the characters of Star Wars appear to know who Albert Einstein was, the proof being the song “Bells” from the 1980 album “Christmas in the Stars: Star Wars Christmas Album”.1 The plot:

C-3PO and R2-D2 have been chatting previously about Christmas (from track one, ‘Christmas in the Stars’) and their talk turns to a sound that R2-D2 hasn’t heard before.

R2-D2 beeps and boops.

What is that? That my silly friend, is the sound of bells.”
R2-D2 speak
“What are bells?”

For shame! C-3PO proceeds to berate R2-D2:

I cannot believe the question
It’s like, “what is indigestion?”
Not that bells and indigestion are the same.

I cannot believe the query
That you ask, “what is Einstein’s theory?”
Compared to “what are bells?” seems almost tame.

R2-D2 beeps and boops.

What is indigestion? Who is Einstein?
Before you ask me, “Who is H.G. Wells?”
I will help your education with a simple explanation of bells.

So now we’ve thrown human digestive problems, one of the greatest minds of the 20th Century, and a British science fiction writer born in the 19th century into the mix.

Bells bells bells
The thing they do is ring!
Bells bells bells
What happy thoughts they bring!
Bells of every kind and sort, bells that play and bells for sport, chiming what the hour is now, or they’ll lead you to a cow!

Cows?

Bells bells bells
Make such a merry sound!
Bells bells bells
When Christmas comes around!
Bells when snow begins to fall, bells when friends begins to call!
Bells when love is in your heart, bells when Christmas carols start!
In each and every man, where peaceful harmony dwells
You will hear loud and clear the thunderous wondrous sound of bells!

Bells bells bells
They’re tiny and they’re small!
Bells bells bells
Are also ten feet tall!
Bells that sparkle in your eyes, every color every size
Speaking languages with ease
In a breeze they’re Japanese!

Japanese? Again, really?

The song goes on from there, but the meat of the topic posited above is that C-3PO has now mentioned Albert Einstein, H.G. Wells, cows and Japan. And don’t forget the Judeo-Christian implications of a Star Wars Universe character knowing about Christmas. Later in the album Santa Claus is mentioned, as well as one of his sons, S. Claus. We never learn S.’s first name, except that it starts with an ‘s’.

We can only assume that this will eventually play into Star Wars: Episode VII, where we finally have the Millennium Falcon chased by the remnants of the Empire to Earth. Get ready!

Art Garfunkel

I’ve always felt sorry for Art Garfunkel because its always felt like he’s gotten a raw deal from the music world. While Paul Simon has basked in the limelight for decades, poor Art could probably walk down the street and go completely unnoticed by the majority of Americans. On further examination though you see that he’s lived the typical rock star life, with both ups and downs.

He teams up with his friend from childhood, Paul Simon, and made their first record that went nowhere. So he and Simon broke up, Simon moved to the U.K., and while he was overseas some stations started playing a song, “The Sounds of Silence”, off of their first album, but instead of the way that they’d written it their producer took Bob Dylan’s band and overdubbed it with electric guitars. “The Sounds of Silence” went to #1.

So to capitalize on their success Simon came back to the U.S. and they toured and made a lot of money but it all came crashing down when Garfunkel’s solo efforts (Simon also was doing solo material) didn’t chart as high as Simon’s and he started to drop out of the spotlight. That was followed by more albums that failed to hardly chart and he dropped into fits of depression. Even after teaming back up with Simon he was mixed out of an album that was supposed to be jointly released by the two of them (Simon’s Hearts and Bones) and before long he was scraping for what seemed like Simon’s table scraps.

The worst part about his whole musical career? He never wrote any of the songs he and Paul Simon sang together; he was just a singer, a good one, but not a songwriter. It wasn’t until 2003 that he released his first album of songs that he wrote (Everything Waits to Be Noticed).

He’s tried acting, poetry and he’s gone through the suicides of several people close to him. Probably in spite of all of what’s happened to him we ought to call him a semi-failed Renaissance man, albeit a semi-failed Renaissance man whose made a truckloads of money.

So Art, after all these years I salute you. You’ve never given up. Keep on truckin’.

The Blue’s Clues Ability to Skidoo Could Have Astounding Military Applications

On almost every single episode of Blue’s Clues the human character (either Joe or Steve, or in the UK, Kevin) and the dog Blue “skidoo” somewhere, which is an amazingly simple form of teleporting (transporting oneself from one place to another instantly), whether onto the surface of a globe or into the image on a picture or a computer game or into a diorama, but it always involves our human protagonist and Blue being transported to somewhere else that moments ago they weren’t. It seems that other characters on the show can also skidoo, like Mr. Salt when he needs to go to the grocery store.

And skidooing is an important plot point to the show, because while on their skidoo adventures the characters learn things and get to play and also may find a Blue’s Clue, which is  great and all, but you wanna know who else could really use skidooing, especially in these trying economic times?

The military. Could totally help them out.

Continue Reading “The Blue’s Clues Ability to Skidoo Could Have Astounding Military Applications”

The Creative Mind of George Lucas Divines a New Star Wars Character

The Place: Sky­walker Ranch.
The Sit­u­a­tion: A cre­ative meet­ing is tak­ing place to cre­ate a new Star Wars char­ac­ter who will be the focus of a new live action tele­vi­sion series that takes place between The Empire Strikes Back and The Return of the Jedi.Major brain­storm­ing is going on.
The Peo­ple: Present are George Lucas and the Lucas­Film data­bank keeper.

Data­bank Keeper — “Okay, so what have we got so far?“
George Lucas — “Noth­ing. We have noth­ing.“
DK — “Alright…what is it? Human, crea­ture of some sort.…something…“
GL — “Not human. We have enough humans. Make it a crea­ture.“
DK — “Sen­tient or not?“
GL — “Def­i­nitely sen­tient.“
DK — “Wise or not?“
GL — “Wise? Like Yoda?“
DK — “Yeah.“
GL –  “Hmm…not so wise. Just nor­mal.“
DK — “Okay, a nor­mal crea­ture. What does it look like?“
GL — “Furry. Tall and furry.“
DK — “Like a Wook­iee?“
GL — “Okay…no, make it short.“
DK — “Like an Ewok?“
GL — *Sigh* “Scratch furry. Make it scaly. And green.“
DK — “Like Greedo?“
GL — “…Okay. Scaly, green, big beaver teeth.“
DK — “Like Wal­rus Man?“
GL — “Why is this so hard?“
DK — “I don’t know. You thought this stuff up.“
GL — “Short. Pigish…creature.“
DK — “Like an Ugnaught?“
*George hits his fist on the desk — repeat­edly*
GL — “Okay, not scaly and green. Scaly and…orange.“
DK — “…Orange is good.“
GL — “Yes, orange is good. Don’t have many orange crea­tures.“
DK — “What do we call the orange creature’s species?“
GL — “How about a…Rith.“
DK — “No can do. Too close to ‘Bith’. And ‘Sith’.“
GL — “Toy­nar­ian! Vim­ban­ite! Morax! Any­thing!“
DK — “Toy­dar­ian, Mim­ban­ite, Gorax. Already done.“
GL — “Okay…Flangian.“
DK — “Flan­gian?“
GL — “Yes. A Flan­gian. He will be a Flan­gian.“
DK — “Where did you come up with that?“
GL — “I just…cre­ated…it.“
DK — “Fine. What’s the Flangian’s back­story?“
*Silence for 5 min­utes*
GL — “The Flan­gian was recruited by crim­i­nal ele­ments on his home world, Flan­gia, and even­tu­ally grew up on a crime boss’ ship, the Bardo’s Luck. He even­tu­ally bought his free­dom from the crime boss and joined went to the Impe­r­ial Acad­emy. He was a good pilot but he got kicked out for…some reason…so he got back into crime and smuggled…things…around the galaxy. And then for…some reason…he got caught up in the Rebel­lion.“
DK — “…That’s Han Solo.“
GL — “YYYYYYYAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRGGGGGGHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!“
He breaks a tech­ni­cal Oscar against the wall.
DK — “You know this isn’t easy, George! Remem­ber how long it took you to come up with Yoda?“
GL — “Jar Jar was so much sim­pler.“
DK — “Yeah, but the whole ‘race’ thing with him…“
GL — “Yeah, that sucked.“
DK — “Yeah.“
GL — “Okay…he grew up privledged, but then was sent to a farm when his par­ents died. He moved to a swamp planet and then after being hunted down by Dark Jedi he fled there to go live with…Ewoks or some­thing. And his best friend, he’s a Jedi too, and so his friend and he love the same girl but finally have a duel on a space plat­form -“
DK — “…You’re kidding…right?“
GL — “…What?“
DK — “That’s like every­body you’ve ever cre­ated in the whole saga, main-character-wise.“
GL — “Hey, who came up with this? Me? Yes, me! I’m detect­ing a more crit­i­cal tone than usual, so don’t screw with me! Mak­ing this stuff up is hard!“
DK — “Well exsqueeze me.“
GL — “Shut up, Jar Jar.“
DK — “Okay, easy one. What’s his name?“
GL — “How about…Fluke Bolo?“
DK — “Or Gorge Mucus? Come on, man! Are you kid­ding? Are you really out of ideas? Come on, man!“
*George hangs his head*
DK — “What should we call our scaly orange Flan­gian? I don’t know. Just say what­ever pops into your head. That’ll be his name.“
GL — “Bill.“
DK — “Bill?“
GL — “That’s the first thing that popped into my head.“
*George twid­dles his thumbs*
GL — “Okay, we can work with…Bill.”

When Christmas Carols Go Wrong

I was out at the mall today buy­ing some stuff and and heard Bing Crosby singing “We Wish You a Merry Christ­mas” over the inter­com speak­ers and, being in a good mood that I was, lis­tened very closely to the lyrics. If you take them lit­er­ally the lyrics make the singer sound like a tool. There isn’t any men­tion of ‘please’ at all. Think of it this way — car­ol­ers are singing out­side of someone’s house.…

“We wish you a Merry Christ­mas;
We wish you a Merry Christ­mas;
We wish you a Merry Christ­mas and a Happy New Year!”

“Wow, thanks guys. Merry Christ­mas to you too.”

“Now bring us some figgy pudding.”

“Okay, have a good night. Stay warm!”

“No, bring us some figgy pudding.”

“Figgy pud­ding?”

“Yes. Figgy pud­ding. Now. We won’t go until we get some.”

“Stop it. Leave.”

“No.”

“I don’t have any figgy pud­ding. What is figgy pudding?”

“We won’t go until we get some.”

“Why?”

“Because. We love figgy pudding.”

“I DON’T HAVE ANY FIGGY PUDDING.”

“What the — dude? We car­oled for you. Now bring us some figgy pud­ding. Bring some right here.”

“Get it your­self. I don’t have any figgy pudding.”

“We won’t go until we get some.”

“Peo­ple, leave! Now! No figgy pud­ding here! Not going to be any either!”

“We’re not leaving.”

“Get out of here! I don’t have any figgy pudding.”

“Ok, bring us a figgy pud­ding and a cup of good cheer then.”

“Dude, I’m going to show you some good cheer in a few min­utes. Let me get my .12 gauge of good cheer for you.”

A Post About How ‘Lost’ Does This Stupid Repetitive Dialogue Cliche

I love ‘Lost’. This cur­rent sea­son is so great I would marry it if I wasn’t already married.

But I’ve noticed that ‘Lost’, which is prob­a­bly one of the best shows cur­rently on tele­vi­sion, keeps doing this stu­pid stu­pid dia­logue con­ven­tion over and over and over until you could make a drink­ing game out of it. Maybe you haven’t noticed it, but that’s my job, to notice the mun­dane and pointless.

It goes like this — two peo­ple are going some­where on the island, doesn’t mat­ter where, but they are alone, walk­ing, or eat­ing some­thing, or lis­ten­ing to a record, and one of them will sud­denly say a seem­ing non sequitor, the other will be con­fused, reply, “What?” or some­thing like that, and the other per­son will explain. In an episode a cou­ple of weeks ago they did it not once but three times in one episode. Like I said, you could have a drink­ing game.

So this is the way I would write it if I were writ­ing the show –

Continue Reading “A Post About How ‘Lost’ Does This Stupid Repetitive Dialogue Cliche”

My Youngest is Obsessed With Mailboxes

When Pey­ton and I go out for walks around the neigh­bor­hood (which has become more and more fre­quent since I’ve started work­ing from home) he notices lots of things. He likes to talk to Twister, the horse that lives across the street, and he likes to yell, “RUN!” and then run, and he likes to play with leaves. His great­est obses­sion though started prob­a­bly a year ago, while watch­ing “Blues Clues”.

Pey­ton really grew to love the show. I like it too, as any­one who has read this blog before can attest to, and I’ve got my favorite char­ac­ters on the show, but Peyton’s has become Mail­box, who shows up rarely more than once a show after Steve/Joe have sang their mail song and always deliv­ers “a let­ter from our friends”. Mail­box wants to be a standup come­dian some­day but he’s rooted in place in the front yard, so it will prob­a­bly be hard for him to travel.

But Pey­ton loves the guy (or girl, it’s hard to dis­tin­guish, since his voice has a strange tim­ber to it) and always sings along to the mail-retrieving songs that Steve/Joe sings. And this love has trans­lated into our every­day lives as well now. So while we’re out Pey­ton will now want to look inside of the mail­box when we leave on our walk and also on our return to the house. And he likes the van­ity mail­boxes, like the mail­box that looks like a dog at the end of the street or the stone one that has vines grow­ing on it. But he loves all of them pretty equally.

So the next time if we show up at your house with Pey­ton and he has a pile of your mail in his hands, you’ll know why.

Why I Would be a Super Villain

I love Bat­man. Always have. Always will.

I sucked it up and watched all but one of the 80’s/90’s Bat­man movies Bat­man & Robin. (Why any­one would look at that and think it was good is just crazy) and used to col­lect the comic books off and on, watched the crummy 60’s TV show in reruns when I was a kid, so don’t even try and not call me a Bat­man lover. Not in a Batman/Robin…you know…well…not-that-there’s-anything-wrong-with-that kind of way, but I’ve always enjoyed Bat­man. Bruce Wayne went from wimpy kid one minute to crazed future vig­i­lante in the next with the death of his par­ents. He donned the cape, the mask, he became what crim­i­nals would fear, and he ruled, which was the best part.

Superman…yeah, he’s alright, but Bat­man was a nor­mal per­son wail­ing on some­body. You could feel your blood pump and the adren­a­line go up as he started in on, as the Fan­tas­tic Four’s Thing would say, “clob­berin’ time.”

Bat­man never really cared much about the con­se­quences of his actions like Super­man did. Clark was always the fine upstand­ing man that he was raised to be and was sup­posed to be. He was good and kind and saw the world in black and white. But the world has never been black and white, sure there are good guys and bad guys, but some­times the bad guys are on your side fight­ing for your inter­ests The CIA in the 80’s try­ing to get rid of the com­mu­nist San­danistas in Cen­tral Amer­ica, for instance and some­times they’re not. Al Queda Some­times they’re out for world dom­i­na­tion and other times they just want money or power or some­thing that makes them look sexy in the eyes of oth­ers. And it’s those rea­sons that would make me want to be a super vil­lain. But not just your nor­mal run-of-the-mill vanilla super vil­lain. No sir. I’m look­ing to be unique, if possible.

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The Man With the Yellow Hat is a Very Peculiar Man

My old­est son loves him some Curi­ous George. The books, the show (on PBS) and even the toys, but he wouldn’t buy one of those toys because it’s not a super­hero or a Planet Hero, but if those didn’t exist he prob­a­bly would buy some Curi­ous George toys.

He and I read Curi­ous George books prob­a­bly twice a week thanks to the library. Curi­ous George Goes to a Restau­rant. Curi­ous George Plays Base­ball. Curi­ous George Flies a Kite. Curi­ous George is Bored. Things like that. You know the drill.

And no one in this coun­try or world would know about Curi­ous George if it wasn’t for his ubiq­ui­tous friend, the Man With the Yel­low Hat (MYWH for those in the know). He has no name, no his­tory, he just exists as the Man With the Yel­low Hat. We do know a few things about him though. He is an explorer, as we know from the first Curi­ous George book. He also appears to be wealthy, hav­ing an apart­ment in “the city” and a house in “the coun­try” and because if this he is a man of leisure. There are no real world loca­tions in Curi­ous George, but one can assume that given the his­tory of his cre­ators, the hus­band and wife team of H.A. and Mar­gret Rey, who fled Nazi Ger­many to even­tu­ally live in New York City, that New York is “the city”, but I’m com­pletely and totally get­ting off topic.

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The Underlying Sadness of “Harold and the Purple Crayon”

My old­est boy and I have been read­ing the 50th anniver­sary edi­tion of “Harold and the Pur­ple Crayon” by Crock­ett John­son for a cou­ple of nights now. It’s a nice hard­back col­lec­tion of four of the Harold sto­ries and Noah has been com­pletely enthralled by it. He’ll talk about Harold falling off of a moun­tain only to res­cue him­self by draw­ing a bal­loon so he won’t get hurt. Harold is a clever lit­tle boy who doesn’t for­get how to get out of trou­ble when he needs to and that makes the book fun and excit­ing and ingenious because the whole thing is Harold’s imag­i­na­tion and where it can take him.

But I started notic­ing some­thing as we were read­ing through the four sto­ries that make up the col­lec­tion — it’s only Harold. There are no other humans any­where in the book. I’m prob­a­bly read­ing too much into it, as I tend to do, but Harold is just all alone in a world of his cre­ation Much like Sci­en­tol­o­gist Tom Cruise. where no one else is. The sto­ries men­tion him look­ing for his home, and him draw­ing the chair that his mother would sit in when she read, and how he remem­bers where his bed is by gaug­ing where the moon is in his win­dow, but other than that Harold is never in a real world.

Now, it could just be that he’s dream­ing and you just never see him wake up, and that’s the more-than-likely answer to the whole thing, or it could be (and I’m just hypoth­e­siz­ing here, brain­storm­ing if you will)maybe Harold is crazy and trapped in his own mind and the pur­ple crayon is some sort of enabler for him to get out of his inner insan­ity, or maybe he’s been trans­ported into a “Twilight-Zone“y place of sight and sound but no dimen­sion other than 2-D and he only has a crayon to help him escape.…

I am read­ing way too much into it. My son likes the story. That’s enough.

An Open Letter to Colonel Saul Tigh

Dear Colonel Tigh,
Saul, we’ve known each other a long time at this point, you and I. I’ve been watch­ing you intently for three and a half years as you’ve wres­tled with the Ambrosia-drinkin’ and put-a-gun-to-your-head demons in your mind and you’ve failed more often than I know you’ve wanted to, but I’ll come right out and say it, Saul — you’ve always been my favorite on “Bat­tlestar Galac­tica”. Oth­ers may think that Adama is king or Star­buck is the coolest or Lee is too pretty for words and he gets all the lucky breaks, but for me it’s you, Saul. It’s your craggy ways, your hard livin’, hard drinkin’, always ready for a fight lifestyle, your eye patch, your abil­ity to sum up every sit­u­a­tion by curs­ing. For frak’s sake, you killed your own wife for col­lab­o­rat­ing with the enemy! You loved her and you poi­soned her and held her while she died! Yes, you did cry after­ward rather than drink and curse, but you killed some­one you loved! Do you think Roslin would, could ever do that? No. It’s one of the things that I love about you that just makes you, you.

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