Host

I control the horizontal. I control the vertical.

Ladies and gentlemen, as of this weekend, I am self-hosting my site. Hey, I’ve had the hardware and the software for months now. In that time I’ve been reading up on what I need to configure and run my own Web server, and I’m finally ready to take the leap.

I control the horizontal. I control the vertical.

Ladies and gentlemen, as of this weekend, I am self-hosting my site. Hey, I’ve had the hardware and the software for months now. In that time I’ve been reading up on what I need to configure and run my own Web server, and I’m finally ready to take the leap.

What will it mean to you, the reader? Not much right now. Okay, I guess my site will be more vulnerable to power failures and such, but I’ve got lots more space to play with, tons more than I had with my old hosting service. And I’m backing up everything, so barring an act of Gawd on my computer itself, we’ll be okay in the long run.

As for me, well, I’m not paying for hosting anymore. And, for the first time ever, I’ve got complete control over the server side of things: configuration and access logs. That was something I’ve wanted for a long time: my old hosting company provided daily stats which were kind of useful, but not terribly informative. Now I’ve got access to everything, every possible bit of information. I installed the excellent (and free) AWStats package for a good overall view, and the raw logs are there for when I need just a bit more detail.

Just yesterday all of that came in handy, when I found out that another site was hotlinking to one of my photos to use as a background image. I wasn’t mad, really, just annoyed (and, I won’t name names: I’ve emailed the author, and it turns out it was just an honest newbie mistake. However, I have taken some precautions to prevent future bandwidth theft. (Because I’m not a bad guy, I chose to just send back a 403 code. I could have been a bit meaner but I guess that would have been a tad extreme.)

And, I know, if it had happened last week, I could have implemented this just as well with a .htaccess file instead of fiddling with the main server config, but my previous Web stats might not have told me (or not so obviously) that there was hotlinking going on, and they wouldn’t have led me to the offending page. And you know what? I’m thinking maybe I wouldn’t even have bothered to prevent it right away. But since the site is sitting in my computer, in my office, in my home, I’m a bit more motivated to defend it. It makes it all a bit more personal.

Maybe I won’t be able to keep this up forever; if/when my site becomes more popular, I’ll have to find another hosting solution. But in the meantime, with the relatively low bandwidth it’s pulling, I can easily afford this.

Comic Book Review: Shadow Cabinet

Shadow Cabinet was part of Milestone Media’s second generation of comics, one of the two series introduced during the Milestone universe’s “Shadow War” crossover event. The Shadow Cabinet is a secret organization of superheroes thousands of years old. Its operatives, in constant rotation from mission to mission, have sworn to fulfill its mandate: “To save humanity from itself”, whether humanity wants it or not.

Shadow Cabinet was part of Milestone Media’s second generation of comics, one of the two series introduced during the Milestone universe’s “Shadow War” crossover event. The Shadow Cabinet is a secret organization of superheroes thousands of years old. Its operatives, in constant rotation from mission to mission, have sworn to fulfill its mandate: “To save humanity from itself”, whether humanity wants it or not.

With consistently excellent artwork and storytelling, Shadow Cabinet was, at the time, the best superhero comic book I knew. The best. Though the series rarely addressed social issues—unlike most other Milestone titles—writer Matt Wayne consistently delivered sharp dialogue, exciting and twisty plots, the occasional dash of humour, and great character development. I think this was Shadow Cabinet’s main strength: its diverse cast of interesting and three-dimensional characters. The best thing about these protagonists? more than half are women. And they’re realistically drawn—none of those huge, silicon-fed breasts, thank you very much. Though it meant a bit more to my politically-active self of ten years ago, I still think the gender balance and racial diversity is a very big deal. The simple fact that Shadow Cabinet features (a) just one white male main character and (b) more than a couple token women does make the series pretty damn unique. Especially when two of these women are a lesbian couple.

Here’s a list of the main characters:

Dharma, the Shadow Cabinet’s current leader. His power is to see the past and future of any object. Some time ago he foresaw a terrible catastrophe, “a day where everything ends in fire”. Without telling his operatives he has been desperately using the Cabinet to prevent this vision from coming true.

Iron Butterfly is the Cabinet’s field commander; she has the power to move and shape metal and metallic objects. In battle she wears medieval-style plate armor with huge angel-like wings.

The origin of her powers is unclear. She has given two somewhat contradictory accounts of her past, but the common element is that her family was murdered, and her life’s quest is to avenge that murder. Iron Butterfly is cold and aloof, ruthlessly efficient in combat, and apparently without any sense of humor. Near the end of the series it is revealed that she is also secretly in love with Dharma, even though he’s incapable of loving her back.

Plus is a normal-looking teenage girl, with the ability to fly and project a variety of force fields. The strange thing was, she occasionally talked to someone called “Narnie,” who only she could hear talking back! Was this “Narnie” real, or just a figment of her imagination? Eventually readers discovered that Narnie was an energy being, and the source of Plus’ powers. “I can manipulate her otherwise inert physical form and communicate with her consciousness.” A bit later, it was revealed that Narnie was Plus’ sister, and Dharma was their brother.

Sideshow used to be a photojournalist for the alternative media. At one point he stumbled onto an illegal animal research lab, “a real horror show”, and got careless. He was knocked out and dumped into a vat of biochemical waste products. Instead of killing him it remolded his genetic structure, allowing him transform his body, or parts of his body, into that of any animal. Dharma brought him into the Cabinet and taught him to control his powers.

Iota is a very rich widow with an apartment in Sydney, Australia. Her power is to shrink herself or any inanimate object down to almost microscopic size. An interesting side effect of this process is that it destroys organic tissue (except for her own body): shrunk objects are sterilized, and shrunk food becomes inedible. She seems to spend a lot of her free time stealing things, and carries around a truly astounding collection of vehicles, houses and all kinds of tools and knickknacks in her pockets, ready to be brought out and used at a moment’s notice.

Donner is apparently the granddaughter of a Nazi geneticist. This might explain her great strength (she can easily bench-press 3 tons) and near-invulnerability to physical attacks. There are some hints that she was involved with neo-nazi gangs when she was younger, but she has completely left behind that part of her life. About six feet six in height with a bodybuilder’s physique, Donner is a big sports fan, especially enjoying baseball and pro wrestling. She is currently studying at Medina University in Dakota (the fictional Midwestern city where all the Milestone series take place) with her lover, Blitzen.

Blitzen was a scientist who developed a serum that enables her to move and think at speeds far beyond the normal human range. (She once claimed to be able to play 307 games of Solitaire in 30 seconds). Nothing else is known of her past before she joined the Cabinet. When not on missions, Blitzen works as a teaching assistant at Medina U.

Starlight was a simple mathematics student until she wandered into the university’s stellar observatory. There she found a scientist standing in front of a “tachyon telescope,” being bombarded by huge amounts of radiation. She tried to push him out of the way, and got caught in the beam instead. This turned her into a living pulsar, with the ability to emit and absorb energies of many different kinds. Though she had planned to be with the Cabinet only until she learned to control her powers, Starlight has since decided to stay.

As much as I love my old life, I can’t have it back. Controlling my powers isn’t enough. I have to use them where they’re needed most. As much as I need the quiet life of a university mathematician, the world need heroes.

Right from the start, Shadow Cabinet showed its readers what it was made of. The first issue, entitled “A Handful of S.A.N.D.,” featured a Cabinet strike team (composed of Iron Butterfly, Donner, Plus and Sideshow) sent on a search-and-destroy (S.A.N.D.) mission. Their target was a super-powered mass murderer whom Dharma claimed was going to be recruited by the American government as an assassin. In the end—despite some hesitation on Sideshow’s part—the team completes its mission, very neatly making the death look accidental. “A Handful of S.A.N.D.” was a disturbing, provocative piece of work that generated a lot of praise from readers precisely because it dared to go where few comics had gone before. As Dharma himself said, to counter his operatives’ moral objections: “It was a dirty deed, but it kept dirtier deeds from being done.”

The next few issues were a bit tamer, exploring some the interpersonal relationships between Cabinet members and setting the tone of Dharma’s relationship with his operatives. The “Father’s Day” storyline (issues #3–4), especially, showed him to be a cold, manipulative bastard who used his operatives like pawns.

The “Red Death” storyline (#6–10) put a violent end to the status quo. After being abandoned in the middle of a mission in Antarctica, the team of Iron Butterfly, Donner, Blitzen, Sideshow and Iota vowed to somehow find Shadowspire (the Cabinet’s headquarters, accessed only via a teleportation device called the “shadowslide”) and kill Dharma—who, meanwhile, got busy making deals with S.Y.S.T.E.M., an international crime cartel. What was going on? Had Dharma turned bad and screwed the Cabinet? No: it turned out that he just wanted his best ops away from Shadowspire while he tricked S.Y.S.T.E.M. into squandering a major portion of their military might, thus restoring a fragile balance to the world.

When they finally returned to Shadowspire, all the operatives but Sideshow accepted Dharma’s explanation. Taking the seeming betrayal personally, Sideshow killed Dharma in a fit of rage. After being brought back to life by Red Dog, a powerful wizard who led the Shadow Cabinet at the turn of the century, Dharma decided to tell his favourite operatives the whole truth. Up until that point, only his sisters had known about his chronal sight.

Dharma’s new openness didn’t last long. Soon he began to withdraw information and manipulate his operatives again. And as the apocalypse of his visions drew ever closer, he slowly, methodically, took over every single S.Y.S.T.E.M. cell in the world. His former approach had been wrong, he reasoned: to have any chance of averting the catastrophe, he had to take a more active role.

My plan is simple. I will control everything. Nothing will happen without my approval. I know my Shadow Cabinet may disapprove, but they are in no position to judge.

Things completely fell apart in the 17th and last issue, which came out in October ’95. Enraged at his sisters’ recent disobedience (Plus, Starlight and several other Cabinet ops had helped stop a riot in Dakota, against Dharma’s explicit orders), Dharma attacked Plus and wrested control of Narnie from her. When Sideshow tried to intervene, he was killed. Dharma then summoned his operatives and announced that, from now on, they were to leave Shadowspire only for missions. Realizing that their leader had finally gone mad, Donner punched her way out of Shadowspire with Blitzen right behind, joined moments later by Iota flying a jet she had dug out of her pockets. The issue’s last panel shows the three of them rocketing away to freedom.

And so Shadow Cabinet ended. I suppose it was inevitable: the series just couldn’t last for very long with that kind of setup; and kudos to the creative team for not trying to stick to an easy status quo. Still… I hope we see the Cabinet again someday, with or without Dharma.

Comic Book Review: Xombi

Xombi was one of the two series introduced during the Shadow War, the first crossover event of the Milestone universe. It’s also the only one in the whole lot that looks nothing like a superhero comic. With its unusual artwork and mindbogglingly weird plots and characters, Xombi is in a class all by itself.

Xombi was one of the two series introduced during the Shadow War, the first crossover event of the Milestone universe. It’s also the only one in the whole lot that looks nothing like a superhero comic. With its unusual artwork and mindbogglingly weird plots and characters, Xombi is in a class all by itself.

The central character is one David Kim, a scientist whose body—mostly by accident—has become host to thousands of microscopic robots which negate the effects of aging and disease, as well as immediately heal any injuries. Now he is a xombi, a mortal person rendered immortal through artificial means. At the same time, he has crossed the line into the world of the bizarre, which exists side by side with our own. No matter how much he wishes to, David Kim can never return to his normal existence.

The series is divided into several long storylines. The first, “Silent Cathedrals,” introduces Kim and his new companions, including Nun of the Above (a clairvoyant nun) and her associate, Catholic Girl. This spunky blonde adolescent has many neat powers, including flight, projecting a force field around herself when she recites the “Hail Mary,” and firing energy bolts from her rosary. Which, I admit, sounds completely ridiculous when I write it out like this, but that’s part of the series’ charm: writer John Rozum shamelessly mixed creepy horror, gratuitously absurd settings and silly puns and made it all work. That’s genius, right there.

“Silent Cathedrals” concerns the plans of Dr. Sugarman—an evil man with bizarre magical powers—to achieve immortality and summon a creature called Boraxis Megatheros, the incarnation of pollution. Servants of his break into David Kim’s lab to steal a supply of the regenerative nanomachines, killing David Kim in the process. His assistant, Kelly Sanborne, injects him with the nanomachines which bring him back to life. However, Kim’s body has been so badly damaged that the machines have to find an outside source to rebuild his tissues. That source is Kelly Sanborne’s body.

In the end, Kim and his friends manage to re-imprison Megatheros, but Dr. Sugarman escapes. The epilogue to this storyline (issue #6, entitled “Resurrection”) is one of the most beautiful and moving issues of any comic I’ve ever read. Feeling responsible for her death, Kim decides to bring Sanborne back using the same nanomachines that revived him. Most of the issue is taken up by quiet reminiscence and flashbacks as Kim looks back on her life.

It’s amazing how well you think you know someone, without really knowing much about them at all. She was one of my closest friends, yet I know next to nothing of her childhood, her friends from high school, her favorite color, her favorite flavor of ice cream, whether or not she wanted children. This time around, I’ll be sure to ask.

But upon finding that Sanborne’s remains were cremated, he realizes the nanomachines will be useless, so he has to accept her death.

The second main storyline, “School of Anguish” (starting with issue #7) pits Kim and his associates against a cult called “the Beli Mah.” Their central belief is that “the world can be made ideal by reducing everything to an abstraction of what it represents. A true form of itself, with no masks to be misinterpreted. They feel that the world is full of masks behind masks behind masks.” Accordingly, the Beli Mah create and use as their assassins creatures called the Painful Inscriptions: physical embodiments of certain abstract concepts. There’s Manuel Dexterity, crafted out of all the unfulfilled intense desires in the world; his twin sister Manuella, the embodiment of deep-rooted shame; Bludgeon, crafted from misdirected rage; Blister Ed, a construct of words spoken in anger, which can’t be unsaid; and many others, each stranger than the last.

Xombi’s last storyline (issues #17–21) is entitled “Hidden Cities.” Finally accepting that his life would never go back to normal, David Kim decides to learn more about the worlds beyond normalcy. With every page I got the feeling that everything we’d seen up to this point was just to get us in the mood, and the serious fun was about to begin. The hilarious (if slightly disturbing) lecture on sidewalk piranhas… David’s first meeting with another xombi, who tells the tale of how he became immortal (a magical healing concoction called the “serpent’s tail” that inexplicably stayed active in his body)… The visit to “Elsewhere,” a parallel world that is the source of all true artistic inspiration in our world… David’s meeting with yet another xombi, this time a forty-thousand-year-old woman living in a flying pagoda who has been having repeated visions of Kim and their life together in the centuries to come, and fell in love with him though they had never met… David agreeing to bait a trap for the Bogeymen Dread, evil creatures from Elsewhere feeding on hope, that invaded our world leaving a trail of death by suicide. Only David Kim can survive an encounter with the Bogeymen since he cannot kill himself. With his help, the Elsewhere authorities are able to imprison the Bogeymen again and save countless lives.

And… that’s where Xombi ended, with Kim realizing that his power could be used to help others, and finally accepting his place in the shadow worlds. A shame: though it was a good place to end, positive and hopeful, David Kim’s story had hardly begun, and I’m sure that Rozum’s twisted, fertile imagination would have been up to the challenge.

Comic Book Review: Static

Static is among the first generation of titles put out by Milestone Media. I bought the first issue when it came out in April ’93 but, stupidly, did not immediately keep reading the series. Then again, I guess I was lucky I picked up Static at all: back in those dark days, I hardly read anything but big-name Marvel titles, and even then never committed to any particular one. So I forgot about Static for about a year and a half.

Static is among the first generation of titles put out by Milestone Media. I bought the first issue when it came out in April ’93 but, stupidly, did not immediately keep reading the series. Then again, I guess I was lucky I picked up Static at all: back in those dark days, I hardly read anything but big-name Marvel titles, and even then never committed to any particular one. So I forgot about Static for about a year and a half; by then I’d matured a bit as a comics reader, and was better able to appreciate what an amazing series it was.

Static is the story of Virgil Hawkins, a teenager unexpectedly gifted with electromagnetic powers. As an avid superhero comics fan, he realized what his destiny was. Now, when danger threatens, young Virgil dons his blue-and-white costume to become Static, vanquishing enemies with wisecracks as much as lightning bolts. But, this comic isn’t all about action and adventure: Static and Virgil get equal time. Along with scenes of Static tussling with supervillains, we have the smartassed, nerdy, often annoying Virgil Hawkins going to school and hanging out with his pals. These include Frieda, his closest friend, crush object, and the only one who knows his secret; her much too smooth and suave boyfriend Larry (who seems to have an awful lot of money to spend on Frieda); and Rick, the butt of fag jokes from his classmates because he practices ballet.

This being Milestone, there’s plenty of social issues and brave storytelling amongst the action and humour. It’s not easy being a black teenager, and superpowers aren’t necessarily much help. For instance, Virgil has a hard time going on dates and can’t even hold down the lousiest McJob because he has to leave at a moment’s notice to confront rampaging supervillains, and he can’t use his powers to defend himself against bullies for fear of blowing his cover. The series’ high point was the “What are Little Boys Made Of?” storyline (issues #16–20), in which Static barely saves Rick from being gay-bashed, and is shocked to find out his friend really is gay. The following day Rick—bruised, with a black eye—courageously comes out to most of the school, inviting his friends to join him in an upcoming gay rights rally. Frieda is completely supportive, but Virgil and the boys have deal with their own homophobia. Later, having resolved most of his doubts, Static defends the rally against a viciously homophobic supervillain and his gang of neo-nazi thugs.

Some time afterwards Static meets Dusk, a teenaged vigilante superheroine with a pretty forceful code of justice. They take an instant liking to each other, even though Dusk is a lot more violent than Static in dealing with bad guys and refuses to reveal anything about herself or her past. The two had an interesting dynamic, for as long as their partnership lasted: Static was more idealistic and though he had, in the past, broken crack houses and stopped muggings and such, he rarely went looking for major trouble; his first priority was always to protect innocent people. Dusk, on the other hand, was grimmer and more pragmatic, actively looked for crime (especially organized crime) to stop, and seemed to revel in beating up on the bad guys.

“I told you checking back alleys and stuff would help you find more trouble.”
“Yup, Dusk, it did. I almost wish it didn’t.”
“Yeah. I know. Just don’t ever tell that to a victim.”

Not that I ever wanted to see Static turning all grim-and-gritty, but the two of them had a lot to teach each other.

In issue #28 (July ’95), the two drop in on a drug bust to give the police a hand, and Static discovered—to his shock—that one of the people being busted is Larry! Unable to confront his friend, Static lets him go, thereby earning the suspicion of both Dusk and the police. Working separately, Static and Dusk catch up with him the next day, but Larry’s former associate also show up to silence him forever, and Dusk gets shot while trying to protect him. Static flies in and carries her to safety, but is unable to prevent Larry from being killed.

It was a disturbing, but perfectly appropriate ending to this storyline. Larry had been more than a little suspect ever since issue #2, when he furnished Virgil with a gun to deal with a bully (which Virgil ended up not using), and it was about time his “deep, dark secret” came to light. Yet Larry was never portrayed as a cold, heartless, one-dimensional crook. He genuinely cared about his girlfriend and family, providing for them the best way he knew how; when the police showed up and arrested him, poor Larry was so scared he almost wet his pants. It was clear he never thought about the long-term consequences of his actions, and never dreamed he’d actually get caught.

Static’s reaction was less well handled, though. In issue #29 the series switched to a new writing team, replacing the fabulous Ivan Velez, Jr (who had replaced the no less fabulous Robert L. Washington III in issue #19). These writers were adequate, but no more, and the next few issues were filled with pretty average storytelling. First, there’s Static’s rage against on the drug dealers who shot Larry and Dusk, complete with extremely tiresome internal monologue. Maybe it was in character, but, really: the formerly-“fun” hero who temporarily goes dark and berserk is a tried-and-true cliché. Later, after Larry’s funeral, Virgil confides in Frieda that he wants to abandon his Static persona. It had always been a game, a flashy release from all the frustrations of adolescence, and now he figured it was time to grow up a little. Again, this little revelation left me cold because that kind of thing’s been done to death in other series.

Issue #31 featured an extended flashback that revisited Static’s origin story. Here the focus was on Virgil’s fascination with an old movie serial swashbuckling hero called “The Scarlet Scarab” who—apparently—was the main inspiration for Virgil’s taking on a superhero persona. My reaction? Meh. Not only do I question the logic of Virgil being more interested in old-time movies than modern comics (besides the fact that we’d never seen it before), I get the feeling the writers wanted to “make their mark” on the Static universe by rewriting history a bit. This issue was completely unnecessary and in fact far inferior to the first origin story in issue #2. But on the plus side, we do get to see the origin of the long yellow coat Static wears over his spandex costume. Yay. Except, no we don’t, because Virgil was already wearing that coat in the issue #2 flashback.

I kept up with Static for two more issues, but finally called it quits after issue #33 (March ’96). The writing wasn’t getting any better, and the artwork frankly sucked. Though I felt terrible about dropping a Milestone series, this Static was only a shadow of its former self, and it just wasn’t worth my time and hard-earned cash anymore.

Thirteen And Counting

Every year around this time, it hits me: the nagging urge to write and post something for the anniversary of my coming out. I’m not sure what to write about, exactly: something deep and meaningful where I’d explore issues politics or identity, or just how I’ve changed and grown in the time since coming out.

Every year around this time, it hits me: the nagging urge to write and post something for the anniversary of my coming out. I’m not sure what to write about, exactly: something deep and meaningful where I’d explore issues politics or identity, or just how I’ve changed and grown in the time since coming out. But that essay kept on not being written, year after year. Maybe it was laziness. Maybe it’s that I always remembered at the last minute, and realized by the time I got my thoughts together and wrote it and posted it, it’d be too late. An essay like that has to be timely. Maybe it’s that queer identity and politics weren’t terribly important to me for a while, so—even though part of me wanted to—I wasn’t actually too inspired to write about the day I “officially” adopted that identity. Besides, why was this milestone any more important than all the others in my life: when I stopped going to church, or moved to Vancouver, or took up Taijiquan, or started playing volleyball again? I didn’t celebrate those anniversaries, after all. Still, this is the first milestone, the one that made all the others possible and drove a lot of my life for years to come. “Every saga has a beginning,” right? (Except my saga doesn’t star Ewan McGregor, although it’s still better written than those crappy prequels. But I digress.)

For a while, though, I did celebrate my coming-out anniversary. Between 1995 and 1997 I made up a ritual that involved going through my diary to sort of get the big picture, see at a glance how much I’d changed. (There was a bit more to it, but I won’t go into details.) Before that, nothing. The 1- and 2-year marks came and went with hardly any mention in my diary; but back then, I was just barely ex-Catholic, and still not big on rituals and spirituality. And no rituals after 1997, for a couple of reasons. One, going through years of diary entries was getting to be too much of a chore. Two, my Pagan-ish spiritual phase was over. Cynicism and skepticism became the thing, and this annual retrospective looked more and more like simple wallowing in the past, pointless navel-gazing (which, granted, is exactly what I’m doing right now. At least now I don’t pretend it’s anything more). Though it had felt important at the time, in hindsight all of this spirituality and pretty symbols and things hadn’t really made a difference in my life. Better to look at my present and future than my past. Better to live my life, and continue my coming out process, than count the days and years since it started. But… it is and always will be an important date to me. As important as my birthday, if not more so. And part of me still needs to celebrate it in some way, however small.

It’s been thirteen years and one day. Happy anniversary to me. I’ve come a long way, baby.

Hooray! I’m Popular!

And a warm welcome to visitors surfing in from GayVancouver.Net. Seems I’ve been chosen as the GayVancouver.Net Proud! Out Loud! Web site of the week. Thank you to those who nominated me! It’s quite an honour to be counted with such excellent sites, but don’t worry: I won’t let it go to my head. Much.

Proud Out Loud! Web site of the week

And a warm welcome to visitors surfing in from GayVancouver.Net. Seems I’ve been chosen as the GayVancouver.Net Proud! Out Loud! Web site of the week. Thank you to those who nominated me! It’s quite an honour to be counted with such excellent sites, but don’t worry: I won’t let it go to my head. Much.

(I have to say, that award graphic adds a nice splash of colour, doesn’t it? The rainbow flag sure is pretty.)

If you’re reading this in my archives, rest assured this did not go to my head. And take a minute to visit GayVancouver.Net, won’t you?

Some thoughts on a couple of movies I haven’t seen

Hitchhiker’s Guide To The Galaxy. Haven’t seen it. Not planning to, either, at least not until I can rent it on DVD. The reviews I’ve read are mixed: some have completely blasted it, some admitted that, though different from the original material, it’s pretty good. The thing is, though, I’m too much of a purist. I’m afraid to go see this movie and find out they’ve hacked it all to pieces, at which point I’d have to go on a murderous rampage to avenge Douglas Adams’ honour.

Hitchhiker’s Guide To The Galaxy. Haven’t seen it. Not planning to, either, at least not until I can rent it on DVD. The reviews I’ve read are mixed: some have completely blasted it, some admitted that, though different from the original material, it’s pretty good. The thing is, though, I’m too much of a purist. I’m afraid to go see this movie and find out they’ve hacked it all to pieces, at which point I’d have to go on a murderous rampage to avenge Douglas Adams’ honour. No, I think I’ll stick with the books. All the books, that is.

Revenge Of The Sith. Now that one, I’m planning to see. Not on opening night, though. You may be thinking, why? If I’ll pass on HHGTTG, why would I spend my precious time and money on a franchise that’s been less than stellar lately? Well, that’s the point: I’ve already lost all respect for George Lucas and the Star Wars franchise, so I can just relax and enjoy the special effects and lightsaber fights. Besides—no, I’m not getting my hopes up—I heard it’s actually a lot better than Episodes I and II. Which, really, isn’t that hard to do. But Lucas better come up with something amazing to wash away the bitter taste of the latest trilogy. Let’s tally up his sins, shall we?

  • Jar-Jar. Why? No, seriously. Why? Was it to show off some snazzy CGI? For comic relief? It sure as hell wasn’t to add anything to the story, because Jar-Jar doesn’t do squat. The tiny plot points where he becomes mildly relevant could easily have been rewritten to exclude him—and, except maybe for the last big battle at the end of Phantom Menace, the entire Gungan people. So all Jar-Jar did was join the evil Triumvirate of Most Incredibly Annoying Animated Characters, right up there with Scrappy-Doo and Gleek the space monkey.
  • The continuity porn. Did we really need C-3PO? R2-D2? A backstory for Boba Fett? No, we did not. C-3P0’s appearance was especially unbelievable. First, why the hell would Anakin make a protocol droid? The kid seemed more interested in tinkering and racing than translation and diplomacy. Besides, unless he was doing it on his own time and with his own resources, I bet his owner (whose name escapes me) would rather have a droid that can help around the shop. And I can just about buy that Anakin built 3P0’s body, but what about the mind? Did he program his knowledge and skills himself, or did he buy some off-the-shelf protocol droid AI?
  • Midichlorians. Fuck me blind, why the hell are we getting a pseudo-scientific explanation for the Force? In the first trilogy it all was very mystical and New-Agey, “energy field” this and “trust your feelings” that. Fine. I was perfectly happy with that, why wasn’t Lucas? Why did he have to rip off an actual scientific term in scenes that—again—could have been easily ignored or rewritten?
  • The romance. What the hell? Why would this smart, independent young woman fall for this whiny, self-centered little putz? Sure, he’s cute and all, and he’s got these nifty Jedi powers, but he’s arrogant, reckless, talks back to his teacher, has boneheaded politics, and has nursed the same creepily obsessive infatuation for the last ten years. And he’s a multiple murderer. Why isn’t Padme running far, far away? And why should we the viewers care? What are we supposed to feel about Anakin, aside from a violent urge to reach for the Maceâ„¢ or bitchslap the dweeb? Which brings me to…
  • This is Darth Vader? Hell no. Darth Vader was a badass. A controlled, commanding, scary badass who seemed evil to the core but found redemption in the end. This kid is just an ass, not worthy of our respect, and I see nothing of the tragic villain he’s supposed to one day become.

On the bright side, there’s this blog. Hilarious and insightful, and I’m sad to say it gets us inside Darth Vader’s head better than Lucas ever could. It’s almost making me excited about Star Wars and Revenge Of The Sith. Almost.

Dust, Magic and Carnie Freaks: HBO’s Carnivàle

Warning: Spoilers a-comin’

Right, so this review’s a few weeks late, but I had other commitments.

I’ve been watching both seasons of Carnivàle since the beginning, and I’m here to say it’s been a hell of a show. The story—taking place in 1934 in the American Southwest—focuses on two characters: first, Ben Hawkins, a troubled young man picked up by a traveling carnival; he has the power to heal and even raise the dead, but only by taking energy from other living beings. Second, Brother Justin Crowe, a California preacher who can look into people’s souls and make them face their greatest sins.

Warning: Spoilers a-comin’

Right, so this review’s a few weeks late, but I had other commitments.

I’ve been watching both seasons of Carnivàle since the beginning, and I’m here to say it’s been a hell of a show. The story—taking place in 1934 in the American Southwest—focuses on two characters: first, Ben Hawkins, a troubled young man picked up by a traveling carnival; he has the power to heal and even raise the dead, but only by taking energy from other living beings. Second, Brother Justin Crowe, a California preacher who can look into people’s souls and make them face their greatest sins. Though they don’t know it at first they are nemeses, destined to meet and fight to the death—which they end up doing in the second season finale.

But there’s a lot more to Carnivàle than a plain old good-vs-evil story. It’s a fascinating glimpse into Depression-era America. To be honest, I don’t know how historically accurate it really is, but I appreciate that there was no attempt to sanitize or romanticize the era. These are not the Good Old Days. There’s dust and dirt everywhere (with a few exceptions, the carnival people rarely wash much). There’s bigotry and segregation. There’s poverty and fear, with Communists, Jews and atheists blamed for the nation’s problems. (Good thing that doesn’t happens anymore, right?) It was a different world, a bigger world with no television or internet, where news and people travelled slowly, and to many of these people, the big cities of the East Coast might as well be on the Moon. And in this world, it was okay to pay money to gawk at bearded ladies or Siamese twins or midget strongmen or some guy in a tux biting the head off a chicken. Nowadays people gawk at white trash losers on Jerry Springer or deluded famewhores on American Idol. I’ll leave it up to you to decide if we’ve changed all that much.

The show has both a great cast and great characters: there’s the very fey Lizard Man (played by the equally fey John Fleck, who sadly didn’t stay on for season two). The Cootch dancers (i.e.: strippers), a mother-and-daughters team that take their clothes off on stage and turn tricks for the patrons, with the father as barker and pimp. Interestingly, two of the strippers are pretty large and curvy women, quite unlike today’s stick-thin performers. Samson, the Carnivàle’s assistant manager, funny and sometimes tender yet taking no bullshit from anyone. Far creepier is Apollonia, the Carnivàle’s extremely accurate Tarot reader, completely paralyzed for years and only able to speak through her daughter. Kudos to Diane Salinger for her performance. I imagine the role probably wasn’t very tempting—she only moved twice in the entire first season, and spoke a total of five or six words—but she managed to bring Apollonia to life with tiny, subtle facial expressions. Also, Tim DeKay’s biceps? Whoof.

The story moved along slowly for the first season, revealing this fantasy world little by little, taking its time, always leaving the viewers hungry for more. Visions and vague hints gradually fleshed out the truth about Ben’s past, Justin’s past, their future together, and their ties to other characters: the enigmatic leader of the Carnivàle known only as “Management;” Henry Scudder, a “gentleman geek” who worked with the Carnivàle many years ago, and has powers similar to Ben’s; Professor Lodz, the resident mentalist who can actually read minds; Sofie, daughter of Apollonia. It was a rich history and mythology that was not spoonfed to the audience, and that’s the way I like it. This is a show that forces you to pay attention.

The problem is that there’s such a thing as too much mystery. It’s fine to tease and slowly reveal a world, but eventually you need to deliver. And now that Ben and Justin have had their confrontation, too many questions are still left unanswered. First of all, what was at stake? Why exactly were they fighting? It was never revealed why Belyakov tried to kill Scudder a generation ago or why he kept looking for him for twenty years. Hints from Management and some of Ben’s visions suggest that Justin’s victory (especially now that he’s received his boon) would lead to the Trinity site bomb test—and thus a nuclear holocaust? I don’t know. Does this mean we’re living in a world where the Creature of Darkness won? That would explain a lot, even though Ben did kill Justin. Maybe fighting each other is just something that Avatars do, which makes the conflict a lot less interesting. What does it mean that Sofie is “the Omega,” as Lodz’s spirit wrote? Samson’s opening monologue in the series premiere says that the Age of Magic will end with Trinity. So, does that mean she’s the last Avatar? Will she have to face Ben someday (in the series finale)? Sofie seems to be neither Light nor Dark: though she rejected Justin, she later on apparently tried to resurrect him. There had been some previous hints that she had a dark side, especially the visions about her mother being raped by the Usher but this “Omega” business basically came out of left field and was never explained. And yes, it’s fun to speculate, but that can only carry me so far.

Maybe all of this will be explained in later seasons (if they’re ever produced), and Dan Knauf has apparently clarified some aspects of the background and mythology in online chats and such, but I haven’t read them and I shouldn’t need to. The show should stand on its own. All this, and the many season two sub-plots that went nowhere (Lila’s quest for revenge, Lodz possessing Ruthie, Stumpy’s money troubles, Iris and Norman plotting against Justin) make me feel that they’re winging it, and it’s not a good feeling.

Finally, I really wish they hadn’t turned Brother Justin into a gloating villain.

Really, that’s my biggest disappointment with the finale. It was only halfway through the first season that viewers were sure he even was the villain. Yes, he was a religious fanatic, who preached a lot about God’s wrath and smiting and not so much about love and giving (one big reason, for me, to see him as evil. The atheist in me does not react well to hellfire preaching). Yet, at the same time, he was the only one of his congregation to welcome the Okie migrants, those who had lost everything to the Depression and the Dust Bowl. While the rest of his prim-and-proper California church (seemingly untouched by the Depression) tried to ignore the migrants’ dirty, off-key-singing selves or made veiled complaints about the church being “too crowded”, he pushed for a proper church in which the Okies could pray. The place he had in mind was Chin’s, a local Chinese brothel which he planned to convert to a mission after using his mojo to convince its owner to donate it to his church. It was a nasty scene that showed Justin’s ruthlessness and total conviction in his own rightness, but I couldn’t feel too sorry for the brothel owner even when he later committed suicide, because he was a massively hypocritical, bigoted pedophile.

It seems on some level Justin was aware of his evil side, and his powers, but tried to repress them, or saw them as a test from God. After a particularly intense vision (lasting most of an episode), he began accepting that this was his nature, and referring to himself as the “Left Hand of God”—the hand that deals out wrath and smiting, as opposed to the right hand, that deals out mercy. Yet even that was interesting, because, really, he was still a man of God. Just a somewhat different god.

Now, Ben seemed like a nicer guy, but he was wanted for murder—the details never known, unfortunately, and that fact seemed only there to drive a couple of subplots along—and his powers were definitely a double-edged sword. The series premiere showed that clearly, as he healed a crippled little girl and killed her family’s crops at the same time. Sure, she can walk now, but they will probably either starve or have to move, and it’s doubtful whether they’re any better off. Also, let’s be honest: Ben wasn’t all that bright, so it was hard to see him as any kind of hero. He was essentially a passive creature, led by Management’s advice or commands and whatever clues he picked up along the way in his quest to find Henry Scudder, rarely trying to take control of his life.

The main characters lost most of their nuances in season 2, and the main plot simplified. After killing Management and receiving his full powers, Ben grew a few brain cells but no extra depth. Justin didn’t get any more nuanced either: he reveled in his dark powers and the control he had over his flock, delighted in mentally torturing Iris and Norman, and… well, the less said about what he did to his maids, the better. But the worst part was his final confrontation with Ben in the finale. At the end Ben was helpless, his father’s special trench knife snapped off at the hilt, and what does Justin do? Does he immediately kill his nemesis with that nasty-looking sickle he’s been waving around for the last ten minutes? No. To quote Frozone, “He starts monologuing!” Yep, Brother Justin takes a moment to gloat, giving the boy enough time to grab the knife blade and skewer the evil preacher. Two years just to get to this? Blah. Justin deserved much better.

Don’t get me wrong: it may sound like I didn’t enjoy the later episodes, but the good definitely outweighed the bad. I loved the show, and will definitely be tuning in if a third season is produced. For all its flaws, Carnivàle stands heads and shoulders above most of what’s on TV these days. If you like your TV literate and pretentious, if you like your heroes dirty, if you like your freaks freaky, if you like your magic down-to-earth, if you like your fiction historical, if you like your story arcs long, then this just may be the show for you.

Game Review: Homeworld 2

I just finished playing Homeworld 2. All in all, it was a hell of a game, just as engaging as its predecessors Homeworld and Homeworld: Cataclysm. Not perfect, mind you, but still pretty damn amazing.

I just finished playing Homeworld 2. All in all, it was a hell of a game, just as engaging as its predecessors Homeworld and Homeworld: Cataclysm. Not perfect, mind you, but still pretty damn amazing.

The Good:

The game, to nobody’s surprise, looks absolutely awesome. The grand starscapes of the first and second games are still there, of course. Ship design is top notch: Hiigaran ships are similar to their Homeworld counterparts, but far more advanced, and look amazing, from the sharp-edged Interceptor to the exquisitely sleek and deadly Battlecruiser. This was a far cry from the Cataclysm ships. The command ship in that game—a self-sufficient mining vessel called the Kuun-Lan—wasn’t exactly stylish or pretty, and neither were its auxiliary ships; however, they did share a very solid, very functional design, of which I thoroughly approve. But honestly, when all’s said and done, sleek and deadly’s the way to go if you’re playing a space-battle game. Vaygr ships are interesting; some have an odd asymmetrical look that was a bit startling the first I saw it, but have now decided is very cool. As are the Progenitor ships, blocky and deceptively rough-looking. The Bentusi Mothership looks quite nice, though I have to question its very existence. More on that later.

The soundtrack also earns my love. While Homeworld’s music was very atmospheric and New-Age-y, and Cataclysm’s was more punchy and action-oriented, Homeworld 2 brings us a beautiful soundtrack with a variety of rousing ethnic rhythms that kicks large amounts of ass. Truly the best of both worlds. The voice of Fleet Command is back, and boy have I missed her. The most emotional part of Homeworld, for me, took place at the very beginning, when Fleet Command ran through her startup checklist in her cool, emotionless voice, ending with “The Mothership has cleared the scaffold. We are away.” They repeated these lines almost word for word in Homeworld 2, but I’m sorry to say it didn’t have the same punch. In the first game, the Hiigarans were about to set off on their greatest adventure, the search for their ancestral home. In Homeworld 2, we’re just running away from a Vaygr attack. Blah. Although I have to admit, the shutdown checklist at the end of Mission 14, as Fleet Command left the Mothership and prepared to transfer to Sajuuk, was a very nice touch, and quite affecting.

(Don’t get me wrong. The voices of Ship Tactical and Ship Command in Homeworld: Cataclysm were very good. Tactical seemed older, experienced, a veteran of many space battles and a total pro. She never once lost her cool, no matter how bad things seemed. Command, however, seemed younger and more nervous, probably recently took command of the Kuun-Lan and never expected to do more with it than, well, mine a lot of asteroids—which was its function, after all. And, granted, things are a bit tense for most of the game, since the Kuun-Lan accidentally unleashed a horrible sentient biomechanical plague that threatens all life in the galaxy and against which they have—at first—no serious defense. But really, is that any reason to panic?)

Some of the gameplay has been improved. I appreciate how the Build, Research and Launch Managers only take up about a quarter of the screen, and are slightly transparent to boot, allowing me to manage my fleet with no break in the action. The concept of ship upgrades, introduced in Cataclysm, has been taken to a whole new level. It’s now possible to target individual subsystems on capital ships and Motherships (engines for all; ion turrets on Battlecruisers; resourcing and production facilities on Carriers. And so on). Two major differences between Cataclysm and Homeworld 2: research costs resources as well as time; but on the bright side, strike craft don’t need to dock to get upgraded.

The single-player missions are really, really hard. Which I like. Why did some reviewers complain about that? Come on, don’t you want to be challenged?

The Not So Good:

So, what, I can’t pick my ship colours for the single-player game? That was the best part! Okay, not really, but it’s still a bit annoying. Yes, you can pick colours for the multi-player battles (and not just your colours, but your fleet badge, which I thought was a lovely touch. If you ever wanted to wear the emblems of Kiith Nabal or Kiith Manaan, or some of the other Kiithid we saw in Cataclysm, now you can.) But for the single-player missions, we’re stuck with the default blue, white and grey colour scheme. Which is fine, really, no big complaints, but I just wish I had a choice.

And we’re back to unit caps? Sigh. One of the best innovations of Homeworld: Cataclysm was the concept of Support Units. Though it restricted you to a very small fleet at first, later on gave you a lot of flexibility. You weren’t bound by arbitrary limits of, let’s say, 14 fighter squadrons, 12 corvette squadrons and 20 frigates. If you wanted to focus more on fighters and less on frigates, then you were plum out of luck. 14 squadrons was all you could build, no matter how few frigates were on the field.

A few aspects of the gameplay are somewhat questionable. The taskbar is vastly expanded and shows all commands (moving, attacking, even specialized functions). Was this really necessary, or even useful? How many people will try to click on these icons instead of using the keyboard shortcuts? Also, each mission ends as soon as all objectives are complete. You don’t have the option of hanging around and rebuilding your fleet before moving on. All resources are collected automatically, but as soon as one mission’s done, you’re outa there. I’m not sure if this counts as a positive or negative. On the one hand, it does make the game faster-paced and more challenging, and clearly it’s not such a huge handicap if I still got to the end. On the other hand, it’s a pretty radical and unexpected deviation from the first two games. So, I’m torn. Intellectually I know I shouldn’t mind, but emotionally I don’t like it.

Now, let’s look at the story. To be blunt, it makes no fucking sense. The story in Homeworld was fairly straightforward: the Hiigarans discover that their planet is in fact not their home; genetic analysis proves they are unrelated to most other life around them, and the discovery of an ancient millenia-old starship (containing an ancient starmap that seems to point to a planet of origin) clinches it. The Hiigarans decide to reverse-engineer the old hulk and build a massive mothership, designed to carry a large fraction of their population, and look for home. And immediately run into their old enemies the Taiidani, who exiled them from their homeworld so long ago. The Hiigarans have to fight every step of the way to reclaim their home and heritage, and learn their forgotten history. Simple, yet epic. Me like.

Homeworld: Cataclysm’s story was a bit more twisted, but the setting and initial premises flowed from the events in Homeworld. Fifteen years after reclaiming Hiigara, things aren’t exactly rosy for the former exiles. They face serious political and social problems at home and abroad, including near-constant warfare with some remnants of the Taiidan Empire, who—quite correctly—blame the Hiigarans for killing their rightful emperor and breaking their hold on the galaxy, upsetting thousands of years of political stability all in the name of looking for home. Though to be fair, many if not most Taiidani were quite happy losing the aggressive, oppressive lunatic on the throne. (It’s all in how you look at it, I guess.) A few missions in we’re introduced to the Beast—a biomechanical virus with a strange collective intelligence, which can take over both machines and people—and the main plot gets underway. Yet even here, the story grows logically, step by step. In between fighting Beast-infected fleets and Taiidani Imperial forces, the Kuun-Lan uncovers the origin of the Beast and how to eradicate it, and—shockingly—learn that it has allied with Taiidani Imperials, so full of hate and resentment that they’re willing to jeapordize their future for just one more shot at Hiigara. It’s a paranoid little story, where friend becomes foe, bitter people choose revenge over survival, losing means a fate worse than death, and the good guys are very much alone. All that, and extremely challenging missions. What’s not to love?

Homeworld 2’s story, by contrast, is very much standalone, introduces plot points out of nowhere and—even more frustratingly—contradicts what has gone before with no good reason. The initial cutscene and first couple of missions introduces the Vaygr—essentially an interstellar Mongol horde led by a religious fanatic, who have their eye on the Hiigaran system—and the concept of the Three Far Jumper Cores, ancient hyperspace technology that allow ships to cross vast interstellar distances in the blink of an eye. One such Core is in the possession of the Vaygr. The second was found by the Hiigarans in the derelict ship, and incorporated into the first Mothership for their journey home. A hundred years later a second Mothership has been built, also housing the Second Core.

This is the first problem: how is it that Fleet Command is still alive after a hundred years? Here’s the second problem: Why build a new Mothership? Was it in response to the Vaygr attacks? Third problem: there was never any previous hint that the Mothership’s hyperspace technology was in any way special. In fact, there was good reason to think it wasn’t: we learned in Homeworld that Hiigarans were exiled in a whole convoy of ships, only one of which eventually made planetfall. Were they all carrying Far Jumpers? Why would the Taiidani have let powerless, disgraced exiles get away with this unique technology? Absurd as it seemed, it was necessary to set up the main plot, to wit: a prophecy. It seems the Hiigarans are destined to reunite the Core Trinity. Whoever does this would apparently gain great power, power with which to reshape the galaxy and begin a whole new age. This prophecy is delivered by the Bentusi, an ancient star-faring race who were the Hiigarans’ only allies during their homeward journey, delivering crucial technology and advice. They appear here in a great-looking new ship, reminiscent of their old design but seriously jazzed up. As impressive as the visual was, this again seemed unnecessary.

So off the Hiigarans go, hunting down clues as to the Third Core’s location, all the while trying to stay ahead of the Vaygr who also seek to reunite the Cores. Eventually they go up against the Vaygr leader, destroy his command ship and take his Core. The Core Trinity is reunited inside Sajuuk, an ancient mythical ship created by the Progenitors, the mysterious race that first developed hyperspace technology and built the Cores. (It turns out that the third Core was housed in the Bentusi Mothership.) Under the control of Fleet Command, Sajuuk moves to eliminate the remaining Vaygr forces. The end? Not quite. In a surprise twist, just as Sajuuk and the rest of the good guys confront the Vaygr in orbit around Hiigara, a number of unknown ships appear out of hyperspace and start bombarding Hiigara. Who are they? Not Bentusi, not Hiigaran, not Taiidan, not Progenitor. Were they allied with the Vaygr? Who knows? Where did they come from? My guess is, the writers’ asses.

Now it’s the end. Time for that new era of peace and prosperity.

Okay, I’ll admit. This story had some good moments. The start of Mission 8, when the Hiigaran discovers the Gatekeeper of Sajuuk, a Dreadnought-class ship that had remained dormant for millenia. My thoughts during that cutscene ran more or less as follows: “Holy cow, this looks cool”—as the view swooped in towards the Gatekeeper’s berth—“Oh, shit, it’s still active!”—as lights blinked on on the ship’s surface and it slowly began to move—“Ohmigawd, this music is amazing.” There’s the transfer of Fleet Command to Sajuuk, which I’ve already mentioned. The closing cutscene and credits, nicely grand and cosmic. But those Big Cosmic Moments weren’t connected in any interesting way, and there were some moments that were… not so good, where it felt the writers were deliberately trying to recapture the magic of the first two games. For example, Fleet Command’s startup checklist in Mission 1 (already mentioned), and the Bentusi’s sacrifice in Mission 10 to destroy the Keepers, seemingly indestructible Progenitor ships. This felt too reminiscent of the scene in Homeworld: Cataclysm where another Bentusi ship blew itself up (and most of the attacking fleet) rather than become infected by the Beast.

Don’t let that stop you from enjoying Homeworld 2, though. I still highly recommend it, especially if you’ve enjoyed its predecesors. And if you can ignore the silly plot and enjoy the Big Moments, more power to you. When all’s said and done, Homeworld 2 is a truly superb game.

“I appointed you as a prophet to the nations.”

Because, honestly: how is this billboard not shameless religious propaganda?

Oy.

before

That kind of crap really makes my blood boil, it does, and not just because I’m firmly pro-choice. Leaving aside my views for the moment, this is more evidence that the anti-choice movement was and still is driven by sectarian, dogmatic principles. Because, honestly: how is this billboard not shameless religious propaganda? It consists only of a Bible verse (actually, only part of a verse, more on that later), and is signed “God”—though that bit seems to have been plastered over by some anarchists. It’s the arrogance I cannot stand, of people who’re so sure they know the mind of (their) God; their presumption as they cheerfully insult non-Christian believers, moderate Christians, and atheists; their cowardice, as they hide behind their holy book and three-letter deity, instead of owning their positions and thinking for themselves; and their self-delusion, if they believe this particular quote has any relevance whatsoever to anyone outside of their movement.

(To be fair, this eyesore is marginally less boneheaded and blasphemous than those other “God Speaks” billboards, if only because it quotes actual Scripture instead of just making shit up and putting words in God’s mouth. The question of whether said Scripture is itself made-up shit is not one we will address at this time.)

Just for fun, let’s take a closer look at the Bible quote and see what, if anything, the hell it has to do with the abortion debate. The reference (in case it’s not clear) is Jeremiah 1:5. Here are the first five verses from Jeremiah 1 (New International Version):

1The words of Jeremiah son of Hilkiah, one of the priests at Anathoth in the territory of Benjamin.
2The word of the LORD came to him in the thirteenth year of the reign of Josiah son of Amon king of Judah,
3and through the reign of Jehoiakim son of Josiah king of Judah, down to the fifth month of the eleventh year of Zedekiah son of Josiah king of Judah, when the people of Jerusalem went into exile.
4The word of the LORD came to me, saying,
5“Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, before you were born I set you apart; I appointed you as a prophet to the nations.”

Seen in context, this looks more about some prophet saying how special he is, and not much about how wrong it is to abort fetuses (at least those that won’t grow up to be Old Testament prophets). So I have to wonder, why did they pick this verse? Is Jeremiah 1:5 the best Biblical support the anti-choice movement can come up with? Well, yeah, it kind of is. Good thing they had that cutesy widdle baby and teddy bear to give people warm fuzzies and distract them from the lack of message.

Because I’m feeling especially mean (and I want to show off my mad photoshopping skillz), here’s another heartwarming Bible verse. There’s lots more where those came from. Exactly why do they call it “The Good Book”?

happy