Foggy

I took the day off sick. No, I really wasn’t feeling well, this wasn’t so I could watch the US Inauguration live—though that was a nice bonus. And I’d like to say that, as Barack Hussein Obama took his oath of office, that the damn fog that’s been hanging around downtown Vancouver for the last, oh, ten days at least, miraculously parted, letting the daystar shine down on my light-hungry eyes.

I took the day off sick. No, I really wasn’t feeling well, this wasn’t so I could watch the US Inauguration live—though that was a nice bonus. And I’d like to say that, as Barack Hussein Obama took his oath of office, that the damn fog that’s been hanging around downtown Vancouver for the last, oh, ten days at least, miraculously parted, letting the daystar shine down on my light-hungry eyes.

Not so much, though. But I did go out for a bit this afternoon and shot some pictures around Sunset Beach, something I’d been meaning to do for a while but there just wasn’t enough light before or after work.

False Creek Ferry

Back to the Inauguration, I loved Obama’s speech, stressing the familiar themes of unity, service and hope. And how, with impeccable class and without naming names, he repudiated everything the Bush/Cheney administration did and stood for.

But I have to give a shoutout to Reverend Joseph Lowery, who gave the ending benediction. Yes, I know, I’m not happy with invoking gods in what should be a secular ceremony, but… seriously, this guy’s awesome! Humility, humour, great timing and delivery, true dedication to his brothers and sisters. Washed the bitter taste of that blowhard bigot Rick Warren’s prayer right out of my mouth.

And, as long as I’m posting videos, here’s the great Maya Angelou reading a poem at Bill Clinton’s 1993 inauguration.

“After the flood all the colours came out…”

President-Elect Barack Obama. It’s got a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?

President-Elect Barack Obama. It’s got a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?

And I gotta say, McCain’s concession speech was pretty nice. Too bad it was marred by dickwads booing Obama’s name and shouting… stuff I couldn’t quite catch (probably just as well). McCain tried to shush them, but let’s face it, it’s too little too late. You ran your campaign on hate and paranoia and lies, you withered old gnome, and tried to foist a useless piece of fundie eye candy as VP just to energise your base, you don’t get to take the moral high ground now.

In contrast with the lily-white faces in McCain’s audience, the crowd listening to Obama’s acceptance speech in Chicago ran the full spectrum of skin tones, young and old (a lot of young people, actually); I saw at least one rainbow flag. That’s what the future looks like: people for whom race, gender and sexuality are just not that big a deal. It boggles the mind that this is the same America that voted for Bush twice (and before that, for the elder Bush, and Reagan), but I guess Leonard Cohen was right when he called America “The cradle of the best and of the worst”. Let’s hope this really marks a turning point in the nation’s history. But I couldn’t think of a better President to usher in this new age.

This is the scariest trailer I’ve ever seen

So first Matt Damon said this:

It’s like a really bad Disney movie. The Hockey Mom. “Oh, I’m just a hockey mom from Alaska,” and she’s facing down Vladimir Putin using the folksy stuff she learned at the hockey rink. It’s absurd. It’s totally absurd, and I don’t understand why more people aren’t talking about how absurd it is. […] I need to know if she really thinks dinosaurs were here 4,000 years ago.

So first Matt Damon said this:

It’s like a really bad Disney movie. The Hockey Mom. “Oh, I’m just a hockey mom from Alaska,” and she’s facing down Vladimir Putin using the folksy stuff she learned at the hockey rink. It’s absurd. It’s totally absurd, and I don’t understand why more people aren’t talking about how absurd it is. […] I need to know if she really thinks dinosaurs were here 4,000 years ago.

And then some twisted genius actually went ahead and made that movie (okay, just the trailer).

Memo to Matt: what we’ve learned for sure about Palin in the last 2 weeks is that even aside from the rabidly anti-abortion stance and book burning and ethics scandals, she’s stunningly ignorant and unfit for the vice-presidency. That under a veneer of folksy charm she’s a mean bitch of a woman—though hey, she fits in well with Gramps McCranky there. And her base does appreciate it.

And if McCain does not tone down the contempt, it will simply feed the narrative. Or, if we are really lucky, as someone suggested in another thread, McCain will overcompensate and spend the entire time comically and creepily attempting to make eye contact with Obama (think Al Gore walking across the stage to stand next to Bush, and Bush looking at him as if to think “WTF are you doing?”).

This should be terrifying for the McCain campaign for two reasons. First, the base will not understand it. To them, a sneering, contemptuous jerk is a feature, not a bug. When they try to tone down McCain, it will turn off the diehards. Look at the reaction of the base to Palin’s RNC speech- they LOVED that she was, for all intents and purposes, nothing but an asshole the entire speech. They loved the “zingers” that were written for her. The rest of the country recoiled in horror, and Obama raised ten million the next 48 hours.

(Emphasis mine, and it’s my favourite line)

He Had A Dream

Would you believe I’d never listened to the entire speech before last night?

Happy belated Martin Luther King, Jr. Day from a non-American!

Would you believe I’d never listened to the entire speech before last night?

Happy belated Martin Luther King, Jr. Day from a non-American!

“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

Comic Book Review: Deathlok

Michael Collins was a pacifist and cybernetics expert, who believed his work was being used to develop advanced prostheses for handicapped people. When he discovered that his employers were really building a superpowered killer cyborg code-named “Deathlok,” Collins was murdered and his brain placed inside Deathlok. His mind was thought to have been destroyed; the brain was simply to serve as “wetware” support for the cyborg’s operating system. But Michael Collins was still there, inside, and eventually he regained control of Deathlok. Vowing never to use his powers to kill another living being, he set off to make a new life for himself.

Michael Collins was a pacifist and cybernetics expert, who believed his work was being used to develop advanced prostheses for handicapped people. When he discovered that his employers were really building a superpowered killer cyborg code-named “Deathlok,” Collins was murdered and his brain placed inside Deathlok. His mind was thought to have been destroyed; the brain was simply to serve as “wetware” support for the cyborg’s operating system. But Michael Collins was still there, inside, and eventually he regained control of Deathlok. Vowing never to use his powers to kill another living being, he set off to make a new life for himself.

The first issue of Deathlok I read was #16 (October ’92), and I was immediately fascinated. The mind of a pacifist stuck inside a killer machine? Neat! Sure was a nice break from all those other heroes who willingly went fighting crime and actually liked punching it up with villains.

The series’ uniqueness didn’t end there, though. You see, Michael Collins was a Black man, and proud of it; So was one of the writers, Dwayne McDuffie. Black people (characters or writers) are rare enough in comics, let alone Black people who actually make points about racism and other forms of prejudice. However, those points were only irregularly made. The problem was that Deathlok had two writers who took turns scripting: McDuffie, and one Gregory Wright. The stories written by McDuffie (especially the “Souls of Cyber-Folk” storyline, issues #2–5, and Deathlok’s stay in the country of Wakanda, issues #22–25) were more interesting, original, and made the political points. (“The Souls of Cyber-Folk” is a reference to The Souls of Black Folk by W.E.B. Du Bois, from which Deathlok quotes in issue #2; the story itself draws parallels between racism and the prejudice experienced by cyborgs and artificial beings.) On the other hand, storylines written by Wright were not so interesting or memorable, with shallow plots heavy on mindless action scenes.

It was a constant struggle throughout the series’ short life: for every reader who loved Michael Collins as a Black hero, as a pacifist hero, there was another reader who thought he was a sissy wimp, and hungered for Deathlok to get back to its roots. See, way back in the 70’s, there was apparently a series called Deathlok the Demolisher, set in a lawless and violent post-apocalyptic future; the title character used to be a US Marine Colonel named Luther Manning who was augmented against his will after being critically injured, and went on to become an ultraviolent anti-hero. More recently (in 1990), Marvel published the adventures of another Deathlok cyborg with the organics and brain of a ruthless and bloodthirsty beat cop and former marine named John Kelly. Taken in that context, a pacifist Deathlok was even more startling. In issue #17, readers learned that Collins’ Deathlok body used to be Kelly’s; his brain had been fried by the onboard computer and replaced by Collins’. At the same time, a backup of Kelly’s personality was reactivated; for a couple of issues it served as Deathlok’s anti-conscience, railing against his pacifistic ways, urging him to be more ruthless, and generally annoying the hell out of Collins and any reader who agreed with him. Kelly’s personality later transferred itself into another cyborg, code-named “Siege,” who made occasional appearances throughout the rest of the series.

The beginning of the end came in issue #31, the start of the 4-part “Cyberstrike” storyline. This weird, confusing story, involving parallel timelines and time paradoxes by the dozen, pitted Michael Collins and Siege against the Luther Manning Deathlok (who never existed in Collins’ timeline) and the Demolisher (i.e.: Manning’s future self) in a crazy and headache-inducing battle royale as they tried to prevent their realities from being destroyed by a power-hungry time-skipping meddler… And that was it. The series ended with this storyline that tried to resolve the paradoxes about all these past, present, alternate-present, and possible-future Deathloks. Not with a bang, not with a whimper, but with a “What the hell?”

It was a tragic waste. A wonderful idea had been lost, probably never to return. Maybe it was doomed from the start, but I don’t feel it was ever given a proper chance. I only wish Marvel’s powers that be had established Dwayne McDuffie as a full-time writer and let him do his own thing, free of constraints. As for those whining losers who only wanted high body counts, they should have been told them to fuck off and go read Spawn or The Punisher.

Grins Are Not Enough

I had a couple of interesting dreams over the holidays. In the first, I was biking home (from work, I think) on Broadway through East Vancouver (which in reality would be out of my way). The sky to the north, over the mountains, was a gorgeous sunset gold, so I decided to take a picture. I turned north and biked a few more blocks looking for the perfect view. The street where I stopped was also the inside of a house (or large building) in the process of being renovated. There was a roof overhead but somehow the mountains were still visible.

I had a couple of interesting dreams over the holidays. In the first, I was biking home (from work, I think) on Broadway through East Vancouver (which in reality would be out of my way). The sky to the north, over the mountains, was a gorgeous sunset gold, so I decided to take a picture. I turned north and biked a few more blocks looking for the perfect view. The street where I stopped was also the inside of a house (or large building) in the process of being renovated. There was a roof overhead but somehow the mountains were still visible.

One of the people there (worker? owner?) and I started talking. Apparently the place was going to be turned into low-income housing. The guy somehow knew what I did for a living, exactly how much I made and where I lived, and made me feel guilty about how relatively privileged I was. Also, I think I was trespassing. And I never got to take a picture of the northern sunset.

In the second dream, I was in a school—possibly a high school, possibly a university. There were bits of Ottawa U, at least. A friend of mine, a nice-looking FTM transsexual guy (blond, short, a bit chunky, with a wispy soul patch; nobody I knew in real life, but probably a composite of a bunch of people) was dealing with harassment and bullying, and had set up a meeting with the school administration. I went with him, mostly for moral support. The meeting took place in an empty classroom, with spectators and guests sitting in those little schoolkid desks. My friend’s issues were never actually discussed, because there were a lot of invited speakers from a bunch of big corporations including McDonald’s. While the McD spokeswoman did her spiel, my friend stood up and started an anticorporate protest chant. A few people joined in, but I didn’t. I just sat there, grinning silently, enjoying the show.

Okay, I get it already. I know what my subconscious is trying to tell me, and it’s nothing I haven’t known since the US elections last November: I need to get political again, to be better informed and more active. It’s a fact that I’ve grown pretty (well, hugely) apathetic in the last few years, what with my burnout, followed by a touch of introspection that today seems a little self-indulgent… followed by graduation, and work. I don’t think my politics have really changed—though I’m on the sidelines, I’m still grinning with the activists—but my angry activist self is gone, maybe forever. Which isn’t such a bad thing: I don’t need anger anyways, just compassion and a sense of fairness. And the will to use my privilege for the greater good. Which maybe sounds really trite, but I don’t care since right now The Incredibles is my most favourite movie of all time.

I don’t think I’ve got the time to volunteer anywhere, but I can make monetary contributions. The only question is, to whom? Well, there’s the UNICEF Indian Ocean Earthquake Appeal—a no-brainer, really (plus, all donations received before January 11 will be matched by the Canadian Government). The James Randi Educational Foundation: another great cause, and I’ve enjoyed Randi’s weekly commentaries for the last couple of years. Some donations to User Friendly and Fametracker, two excellent sites I’ve loved for a while. They’re not out saving lives or changing the world, but damn do they brighten my day. The Vancouver Independent Media Centre? Yeah, I think freedom of speech is worth some of my money. And… other groups. I’ve got time to think about it, the year’s still young. The point is to do something.

Four More Years

Well, that’s just fucking great. The chimp gets a second term and eleven anti-gay-marriage ballots passed. I guess Americans are happy electing (note: “electing”, not “re-electing”) a half-wit warmongering religious whackjob as long as it keeps the queers from getting married.

Well, that’s just fucking great. The chimp gets a second term and eleven anti-gay-marriage ballots passed. I guess Americans are happy electing (note: “electing”, not “re-electing”) a half-wit warmongering religious whackjob as long as it keeps the queers from getting married.

You know, before last night, I was all set to go like Stewie Griffin from Family Guy, in the episode where Meg pretends he’s her son and he gets sent to an aggressively multicultural foster home, and be all “Oh, Hosannah! It’s the lesser of two evils!” (That line always cracks me up.) But… yeah. The lesser of two evils conceded. And I don’t have the words to express how angry and depressed I am. Well, I guess I do, but that’s already been done. So I’ll just link to a much more eloquent blog, let out a Stewie-style “Blast!”, and sign off for now.