“Let’s take the War on Terrorism. This is a very powerful phrase, to the degree that it’s offensive for anyone to say they don’t support it. But it’s also dumb, because nobody knows what it actually means. Clearly, we are not about to rid the world of terrorism, because you can’t defeat an “ism”. Terrorism will be with us for as long as desperate, insane people exist; the best we can do is to mitigate the damage such people can do, and try not to encourage them.
— Max Barry
Barry is admittedly a good writer. (I recommend his Jennifer Government). But he comes so close to making an important point, and then veers off to the road MORE taken.
This “war”–the War on Terrorism–is not the modern homage to the metaphorical War on Drugs. While there was very real fighting and dying in coca fields and on city streets, there was just as much education, propaganda, and outreach. But this war, once again declared by the White House, has nothing to do with anything except wholesale slaughter of anyone who doesn’t live up to Western morals. And this is going to do nothing but instigate a even greater spread of Terror and terrorism.
Terrorism comes from people who are scared. It comes from people who are suffering. And it comes from people who are desperate. It often involves people sacrificing themselves because they no longer see another option. And no invention of man creates these circumstances so well as actual war.
The Palestinians are perhaps the most obvious example of this. The international community, through their silence and refusal to intercede, has granted Israel unlimited license to literally destroy these people’s homes, businesses, crops, and lives. We’re not talking the occasional attacks mentioned on CNN. This is an every-day occurrence. Without warning, Israel has repeatedly cut off access to their jobs for tens of thousands of Palestinians. Without jobs, and without crops, how do you even eat? American slaves were treated better than this. It’s no longer shocking that people — homeless people, hungry people, people with dead family members — are willing to turn themselves into walking devices of vengeance (and hence, terror). Good or bad, this is a message. Terrorism is always a message.
Everywhere people are desperate and oppressed, terrorism will break out. My own country’s history celebrates many acts of terror our citizens have committed. The Boston Tea Party. The Raid on Harpers Ferry. Timothy McViegh was never labeled a Christian Terrorist. Apparently, if you’re American, and desperately want to make a point, you’re free to act without fear of bringing down retribution upon your entire group of people.
You can fight the people who are committing acts of terrorism. But you cannot physically assault the cause of terrorism. It is not a man in a robe in a cave somewhere. It is not an aging military dictator, governing on a whim. Killing those people is like taking a throat lozenge. It makes you feel better, but it doesn’t make you any safer, any better, or any less in trouble.
If we’re going to ‘fight terrorism’, we have to wipe out the things that scare people. We have to wipe out hunger. We have to wipe out diseases like Malaria and AIDS which are ravaging populations worldwide. We have to deal with resource scarcity. We have to deal with land scarcity. These attacks and invasions will only stretch the tensions even further, and lead to more desperate acts; many by people who formerly were satisfied with or accepting of the status-quo.
This War on Terrorism is not an attempt to stop terror. This is a “War of Opportunity to Get Rid of People and Places We Find Offensive”.
Please keep in mind that this post is more than 6 years old. Who the hell knows what I was thinking back then?! Damn kids... get off my lawn!
Nasty, nasty, cold, wet, gray day. Thankfully I worked too hard, and only went out long enough to pick up my comics in Georgetown.
Comics, comics, comics. I’m full of ’em lately — among other things. After months — possibly years — of procrastinating, I finally made a fairly complete shakeup of my regular comic pull-list*. Finally dumped every crappy Marvel title that I was buying out of habit or guilt. Yeah.. I’d been reading some of those titles forever. But enough repeat issues of terrible writing and mediocre art will cause you to do just about anything. Marvel’s books are stories where nothing is ever definitive, because the inevitable next writer will contradict everything their predecessor established. And no matter who’s writing, they haven’t had an original idea in 30 years. Artists will never last more than 5 issues, and have no motivation to do their best work.
So anyway… all gone.
I still buy too many comics. As I said before… pretty much anything Warren Ellis writes. Some Vertigo books, like The Losers, Hellblazer, and Y, the Last Man. I don’t know yet if Black Eyed Susan is a regular series, but I’ve got a call out for it. I know there’s more… but I’m too lazy to check. And I still haven’t finished everything I picked up at SPX.
*(For those non-geeks out there, when you regularly buy comics from the same shop, they will create a ‘pull-list’ of books you purchase on a regular basis, so that you don’t have to worry about them selling out before you can pick them up.)
I will in fact be undoubtedly writing more about comics in the future. So I want to get the disclosure out of the way now. (As if I had an audience… but hey…). Mad Yak Press, who had such beautiful stuff at the Expo, contacted me, asking if I was interested in complimentary copies of their books in exchange for writing reviews of them here. It’s a very common practice among publishers, and a simple google search led me to find at least one other person doing the same thing for the same publisher. And I’ve got no qualms, since I’m ‘working for my supper’. But if you have moral issues… well, then… fuck off. I say it now simply to avoid having to bring it up each time I mention their books. If you really think I’m going to be biased towards anyone just because they’ve shown me a kindness… you really don’t know me anyways.
And oh… by the way: Yay! Paul DiFilippo is going to be writing a comic book. Yet another seriously deranged author working in comics.
I repeat… comics, comics, comics.
I heard a great quote somewhere last week, comparing Regis And Kelly to Nerf Crossfire. Of course, that almost lends too much credence to Crossfire.
And while I’m trashing politics…
I watched the president’s little illegal speech on CNN the other day. (Illegal, unless CNN offers Kerry the same time to speak). As the recent debates and public speeches have driven home like a jackhammer to the skull, the Shrub is an awful public speaker. The whole ‘dear-in-the-headlights’ look is accentuated by a speaking rhythm reminiscent of a 6th grader in the school play. His speech-writers couldn’t get hired writing jingles for Denny’s. Every public address is a seemingly endless string of watered-down, overly-contemplated, and intellectually-neutral catch phrases and campaign slogans. His CNN appearance had God-knows-how-many contradictions and misleading statements. “My administration has seen a record number of student loans,” is supposed to show his dedication to education; but to me it shows only that schooling is getting more expensive and less people can afford it. “My opponent would create big government healthcare … Clinton-care”. You know… something like he did with the expanded Medicare plan. This man is a terrible Republican, has the leadership skills of a housecat, and has spent more time manipulating reality during his administration that living in it. How can anyone vote for him?
Speaking of things that make me sick…
I’ve come to my own little realization and self-awareness thingy. “Sugar is addictive”. I’m not just talking… “I have a chocolate craving”. I’m talking… I try to stop eating sweets, and I find myself constantly thinking about candy, and having to restrain myself (sometimes unsuccessfully) from going to the store every other day for a new package of snacks. I know I’ve heard the claim before. But it’s just now becoming extremely obvious to me.
Thought for the day:
Anyone who refers to themselves as ‘a player’ needs to be bitchslapped.
Please keep in mind that this post is more than 6 years old. Who the hell knows what I was thinking back then?! Damn kids... get off my lawn!
The annual Small Press Expo started yesterday, out in Bethesda. This isn’t your 1980s comic convention, where the attendees were just happy that they could look down on Trekkies. In fact, I wouldn’t recommend bringing children at all in hopes of finding stuff just for them. While there undoubtedly juvenile material, the vast majority of the material is adult, often with a capital A. (Walking in to one door brought me face to face with a t-shirt proclaiming “I’d rather be masterbating”.) But this is also adult material as in mature (and sometimes not so mature), interesting stories with beautiful artwork.
The entire show was sold out this year, with probably about 150 different exhibitors. The largest were probably Fantagraphics or Top Shelf, while the smallest included quite a few people sitting at their booths, folding their photocopied books as they sold them. There was nary a “X” in sight. And if you don’t know what that means, you’re probably better off. It was a mixed group of exhibitors in all, but more than a few or them could learn a bit about salesmanship. At a convention for independents, unless you have a cult following, no one is likely to come over and gush. I pass several tables where the people seems lodged behind their table in a post-meal coma. I suppose it’s contradictory really. You have to be reclusive and obsessive to manage to publish your own comics, but you also need be outgoing and out-of-doors to promote them. As I said, though, it was a mixed group. I had great discussions with several creators, including Danielle Corsetto (who’s excellent new online strip Girls With Slingshots starts this weekend) and Jennie Breeden (starving artist whose business card reads “It’s not satanic porn… honest!”).
My friend Kier came along with me this year. We had to take two or three spins around the entire show before he started buying anything. He just kept muttering in a low moan, “I am going to have to spend soooooo much money”. (Kier recently recovered from a long job search and apartment hunt which have not left much in the way of financial resources). I take this to mean he loved almost everything he saw. I think in the end, the only thing that stopped him from buying more was the inability to lift his bag.
In a brief period of lucidity between tours of the show floor, Kier also mentioned that he suddenly felt incredibly inadequate. Visit this show, and you know it’s a very easy feeling to have. Many, if not most, of the exhibitors are people who could never get a contract with a major comic publisher. But they have such a need to express themselves, they went ahead anyway, and create, promote, and sell their own work. More than one successful company has been founded for just that reason.
Other companies that stood out include Mad Yak Press who had a table full of incredibly beautiful books, every one of which I wanted, (though I restrained myself to just Texarkana and 2 issues of Black Eyed Susan); and John Gallagher, creator of Buzz Boy, who told some very talented local high school students that if they put together something in time for the show, he would sell it from his booth.
(Side note to these student’s art teacher, who apparently tells them they are wasting their time with comics: Shut the fuck up. Who ever told you that the best way to encourage a child is to trash the artistic endeavor they enjoy most, regardless of what you think of the medium?)
Overall, I loved the show. Despite having a much smaller budget myself this year, I came away with some very good stuff:
The Devil’s Panties (Summer 2004) by Jennie Breeden
An original sketch by Jennie Breeden
Texarkana by Neighly, Hadiwidjaja, and Horne
A Girls with Slingshots promo book by Danielle Corsetto
Issues 1 and 2 of Black Eyed Susan, by Patrick Neighly and Donny Hadiwidjaja
So yeah… I rambled on for a while there, about the Visqueen show, didn’t I? I really wanted to get something down that night, when it was all still fresh. But looking back… yeah.. just crap.
The show really was amazing though. I’ve never seen a better live rock band. They’re channeling the spirit of Chrissie Hynde, (who isn’t dead yet.. but you know… still…). The band takes off like a rocket with the start of each song. The music they play is so irresistible that you can’t help but rock and bounce to it. And between songs, Rachel cracks jokes and pulls stunts like your 8 year old cousin, only without the lisp. (Waiting to start one song, she started playing bongos on Ben’s snare drum. Ben was the only one not smiling.)
It was all over way too soon. Maybe too soon for Rachel too, since she was still wired when she sold me a copy of their new album. She’s kinda cute, like a Snickers bar is kinda sweet.
I’ve listened to the new album 10 or 12 times now. It’s one of those that you find something new, and it gets better with each listen. There’s a little more variety in this album, presumably showing off a bit of Rachel’s range, (as Kim has nothing to prove, and drummers seldom get the spotlight). Nearly every song in there has a great hook. There’s so many potential radio smash hits. The only thing that mystifies me about the album, besides the disappointing cover art, is the arrangement of the songs. The first song is good, but probably the least memorable of the bunch. Not something I would lead off with. And while I really like the last song, it’s really as close to a downer as you can get with pop music. Do you really wanna finish off on such a depressing note?
Then again, it’s not like I won’t spend most of my time listening to this set on random on my iPod.
No sophomore jinx here.
—
So I was listening to music at random last weekend. Belly’s Feed the Tree came on. For the first time, I realized Tonya Donnally was singing about dying. And tonight I realized just how weirdironicfunny that is. I went to a Belly concert back in the mid-nineties, with Anita. That song always stands out when I hear it, because that concert was when i realized Anita and I were drifting apart for good. Probably the last chance I had to really spent time with her.
And then she died in the plane crash.
And for years, unbeknownst to me, I am reminded of her by a song about death.
—
And speaking of morbid, I briefly talked with Jill the other night, for the first time in probably a year. I still get that oh-so-pleasent feeling of the ex who would rather cut your various organs out with a rusty spoon but have decided that they will behave like an adult. It’s really kind of sad. Well… scary, and then sad. Given time, I can accept that the “dating” thing wasn’t gonna work out for X reasons. But we started ‘dating’, or whatever you’d call it, because our talks nearly every night were so amazing. I’ve unfortunately proven that I can go without sex like a camel can go without water. But to lose someone I can really talk with… that breaks my heart.
I managed to stay good friends with Sara afterwards. And even Kelly and I seem to hold no hard feelings anymore. (Granted… they both lasted considerably longer). But if I ever felt like someone was giving me the evil eye over the ‘Net, it would be Jill.
—
In the range more of coming back to life…
I got an email last night from Erin. Erin, from college, who I haven’t seen nor heard from in over 7 years. Erin who now seems to be very successful and very attractive. Not necessarily in that order. (Don’t look at me like that… I haven’t really talked to her in seven years; so I won’t vouch for her personality).
God bless Google. Every time I look up someone from my past, they inevitably have irretrievably disappeared. Even Allison, who is supposedly working just a few blocks from me, at the FBI headquarters. But I found an online sighting dated February of this year. A little more searching got me and email… and *bang*.
Now about these other women…
Allison Miller — last rumored to be working for the FBI in the Washington DC area
Janie Hyler — Last known to be in California with her dad, or Amsterdam with her mom
Anna Koblinski — no clue as to her whereabouts
Michelle Rink — now married with a new last name, living somewhere in the south after leaving the military. Had a letter from her once, but I lost it
Anyone have any clues? I really have so many people in my past that I lost touch with that it’s insane.
Please keep in mind that this post is more than 6 years old. Who the hell knows what I was thinking back then?! Damn kids... get off my lawn!
AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!
AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!
AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!
AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!
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AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!
Sorry… Drew Carey is hosting a talk show. But at least he’s talking to Zack Braff about Garden State; which if you haven’t seen — drop the baby and go now. Just got back from the Velvet Lounge. Finally got to see Visqueen. Two words: Absolutely Fucking Amazing. (Bite me! I can’t count.) I kinda went brain-dead when I saw them loading from their van out front. ‘Cause Kim Warnick is someone I’ve only ever seen in pictures, on many, many CD covers. Suddenly, there’s a whole person there in front of you… moving. (This is as opposed to the time I saw Donald Rumesfeld… cause he more sort of rumbles rather than moves.) There were times where Kim really seemed to be enjoying herself up there. Something you sadly don’t see much of from touring bands.And yes… Rachel is even more beautiful in real life. Incredibly cute. Terminally hopped up on caffeine or something. And a real smart-ass attitude like the future rock-goddess that she is. Ben… not much to say… but he beat those drums like the eternal red-headed stepchild. He goes absolutely apeshit back there.
The velvet lounge is really sort of a neighborhood dive. Looks like it could have been an eyeglass store 30 years ago, before it got taken over by drunk people with markers and paint who like loud music. The bar looks like something you’d find in a dorm room. the upper level is probably better looking in the dark, since there was no real ceiling or anything, and a questionable floor. The stage takes up about a third of the room. This, I didn’t find to be a bad thing. It means I got within sweat-slinging range of the band, who actually urged people closer.
Were they loud enough? I don’t really know, because I lost my hearing completely about halfway through the set.
My only regret is that Rachel still doesn’t seem willing to admit how much she lusts after me. I’m sure it will come to her someday. I’m patient.
And oh yes… damn right I bought the last copy of their new CD which comes out tomorrow. Then I got the fuck out of dodge before the people in line behind me found out.
And yes… I come home and geek out for a while to Sara, who can understand my unnatural addiction to music. Check my email, and find out Xtrememac is sending me a replacement belt-clip for my iPod case, free. Go Xtrememac! Their cases just kick ass, and their customer service has always been wonderful.
Okay… it will soon be 2 AM, and I want to get up early tomorrow to go see the parade of Indian Nations on the Mall. Must… sleep. Damn. ringing in my ears.
I can think of worse ways to go deaf than listening to Visqueen live.
Please keep in mind that this post is more than 6 years old. Who the hell knows what I was thinking back then?! Damn kids... get off my lawn!
The iPod went on a pretty good streak this afternoon. Right up until it hit a Hole song. I love Courtney Love, but it’s not exactly music you listen to as a means of inspiring cheer or mellowness.
Zeromancer ― Neo-Geisha
Jean Bach ― falling into atmosphere
Sinead Lohan ― Diving To Be Deeper
Laura Cantrell ― I Still Miss Someone
Belly ― Feed the Tree
Dusty Springfield ― Son of a Preacher Man
Blondie ― Call Me
While I was outbound, listening to music and admiring many beautiful women, I stopped at the used book sale hosted by the Cleveland Park Public Library. A bit anemic, but they had a reasonably large science fiction section. Picked up Rudy Rucker’s Software, and a first printing of Phillip K Dick’s first novel, Solar Lottery. I also found a copy of Bradbury’s Dandelion Wine, which I read this summer. Since they were only charging 10 cents for SciFi paperbacks, I picked it up, and am sure I can find someone I can pass it on to. Should have grabbed the copy of Canticle for Liebowitz, as well. Hell, for 10 cents a book, I should have grabbed anything vaguely interesting.
It’s a rather quiet weekend for me. Some friends are away. Some are ignoring me. Some went to the Renaissance Faire. Would have liked to gone to the faire, but the trip was being organized by Autumn, and she currently hates me. Come to think of it, that’s probably why Kier is offline.
I’m really looking forward to Monday night anyway… enough to make me wish I could blink my eyes and be there. Visqueen is playing a local club, for the first time since I started listening to them. One of their only two shows even remotely in the area. I invited many people, but Kier is the only one who showed any definite interest. Don’t really care… for Visqueen, I would go alone. And since the show is on a Monday night, there’s probably no danger of not being let in.
I think my brain has just gone to bed for the night. Best sign off now.
Please keep in mind that this post is more than 6 years old. Who the hell knows what I was thinking back then?! Damn kids... get off my lawn!
