Apologetically Yours

Before you start getting any ideas, let me tell you right now how things are shaping up around here: in short, your paranoia is founded, it seems, on solid ground, and the sooner we all realize that we’ve been wasting our time trying to pick up the wrong kinds of shiny baubles and asking the wrong kind of people what, in hindsight, look like exactly the wrong questions, let me take a minute to say that it’s been the pleasure of a lifetime singing this song with you, and All Things Considered (weekdays on NPR), I’d have done it again, even though you’re a professional opera singer from the big city, and I’ve only had vague (and entirely unfulfilled) aspirations in the direction of busking, during my quieter and more remorseful moments. But no matter: apparently, with no regard whatsoever to how incredibly good I’ve been at getting on your nerves, and incredibly bad at everything else (indeed, the two facts seem proportionate, and of a similar shape when seen from most angles), it’s just, simply put, over. No more! What’s next, you ask? What’s to come? Well, the first thing you’ll notice is how your shoe laces never stay tied the way they always do in the Motion Pictures, because you almost never see a Motion Picture Facsimile Person (of the Archetypal variety, if you’re into that sort of thing) stopping to tie their shoe whilst saving the world, do you? Anyway, while you’re down there tying you’re shoe in the most unglamorous way possible, you might notice (you might not) that the world’s not ending, and if it is, it’s doing so slowly, and in a way that you can’t seem to predict or have any impact on. It just does what it does, even when your shoes stay tied, and you catch your train, which brings up another point: who the heck rides trains, really? I mean, I guess I have ridden a train from Point A to the Point of No Return a few times, but who were all of those other people? I have no idea. They seemed (to me) to be acting as if nothing at all was the matter, or perhaps everything is. And now, a poem:

Streetlight mariner cries out “land ho” from the top of the Buick LeSabre
The day/morning brightly
But there’s no one to hear the Cacophony Champagne Fiddle Orchestra
Because the playbill was printed incorrectly
And took too long to read anyhow
Plus, you can bring a drunk to rehab but you can’t forgive him sometimes

On second thought: maybe nothing’s over. Maybe it hasn’t even begun.

Robosaurus is My President

This is, without a doubt, the Greatest Photograph Ever Taken. (I found it here.)

Update: A quick perusal of Google yields both this majestic image, and the best coloring book page in the history of ever.

If you color in that page and send a scan of it to me, I shall post it to this blog, and what's more I shall think very highly of you. Those two things are, in their own way, a modicum of both wealth and fame.

"It's Mighty Funny, The End Of Time Has Just Begun"

I was thinking the other day about the End Of The World. You might suggest to me that it's a healthy thing to think about, either because human advancement is speeding the planet's demise, or perhaps because it's helpful to meditate from time to time on one's own mortality, but I have to admit that my particular line of thinking was more whimsical than all that. Assuming that the world will end at all (and I think it will), how it happens will probably be pretty interesting to whoever happens to be around at the time that time ceases to be. Sure, perhaps the Universe will continue on its merry way without us being there to watch it, but what's the point in thinking about time when there are no more people to watch the clocks? People theorize a great deal about what happened before humanity existed, and how long it may have taken, and that's an interesting and hopefully humbling thing to study. But what about time, and the Universe, after humanity's cosmically (comically?) brief existence? It's somewhat less compelling, really. I was somewhat surprised at myself to reflect that whenever the subject came up, either when I'm thinking about it alone or discussing it with others, there are certain doomsday scenarios which are infinitely more desirable than others. After further reflection, I determined that there is what appears to be an inverse relationship between the probability of a given cause of The End and its desirability. Perhaps you've observed the same thing yourself, but I suspect that instead you've spent your time thinking about things that actually matter, and have given it very little thought. How fortunate for both of us then, that you should stumble upon this inter-net web-log, dedicated almost entirely to the study of things that (probably) don't matter.

Now then, for my money, the best possible ways for the world to end are (in no particular order):

1. Interstellar war (or something). I don't think that space aliens actually exist, but if they do, I think it would be pretty awesome if they destroyed us. Something like the beginning of Douglas Adams' The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy would be pretty much ideal, though I guess it wouldn't constitute war per se.

2. Human error (of the awesome variety). If you have to go somehow, you could do a lot worse than to be done in by science. Our best hope for this right now, as far as I know, is the existence of the Large Hadron Collider. Of course, the fact that the LHC's creators have assured us that it's perfectly safe would only contribute to the awesomeness here, in the event that they're horribly, horribly wrong. Hopefully they would get to say something like "Ye gods, what have we done?" right before the earth is engulfed in a black hole. Freakin' sweet.

3. Asteroids (on the rocks, but hold the Bruce Willis). This is (I think) more likely than #1 or #2, and as such is somewhat less desireable. It's also been the subject of a couple of really bad movies, which doesn't help its case. Still, as far as doomsday scenarios go, it's pretty cool.

Now then, on the completely pedestrian, undesreable side of things, we have:

1. Global pandemic. Unless it comes from outer space and turns us into flesh-eating zombies first, there's pretty much nothing cool about everyone on earth dying of some mutated form of Smallpox. It's also on the "relatively likely" side of thigns. It's too normal. Too square.

2. War that has nothing at all to do with space aliens. Let's face it, people are pretty good at destroying one another in ridiculously uncool ways. It's pretty believable that Armageddon could happen this way, and I have no reason to believe that the end of the Cold War has made it significantly less likely.

3. Global Warming. Apparently this is now called "Climate Change," probably because too many Midwesterners have taken to facetiously welcoming the idea of "warming" every single time it snows, and I mention it often enough on this blog that I'm going to start calling it simply ΔC. Now, ΔC finally killing us off is a lot less likely than it used to be, but there are rumors that it wasn't completely defeated in the summer of 2007, and is rearing for a comeback. If this happens, I predict that it will be pretty lame.

4. Human error (of the not-awesome variety). This could manifest in any number of ways, but would probably resemble either global pandemic (1), accidental use of WMDs (2), or boring old ΔC (3), all of which, as discussed above, would be lame.

Anyways, those are my two lists. What are yours? The Font of All Human Knowledge has a pretty good list to pick from here, if you're stumped.

Ah, The Proverbial Low-Hanging Fruit!

For some reason, I can't let this one go. David Zax has a little column out there on the inter-nets which asks:

"What if [the Kevin Costner movie Waterworld] were an eco-parable whose message was ahead of its time?"

With all due respect to Mr. Zax and his correct use of the subjunctive, that's a pretty big "what if." He goes on:

[H]as Waterworld's moment finally arrived? The movie opens with an image of the globe as we know it slowly being swallowed by blue while a narrator explains that in the future, "the polar ice caps have melted, covering the world with water." Something similar, if less dramatic, is happening right now on Earth. Global warming is causing seas to rise (though the polar ice caps have little to do with it). In its 2007 report, the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change projected a sea-level rise of between seven and 23 inches by 2100. While that might not seem like much, it could be enough to make a low-lying island untenable: Recently, the Maldives' new president announced his intention to buy land to relocate his entire nation if necessary.

Ok, for starters: the president of the Maldives can rest easy; Sting took care of that one. If you'd like to send him a "thank you" card, he can be reached at the following address:

Sting
England (probably)
Earth, Solar System (again, probably)

I'm pretty sure that will reach him. Now, where was I? Oh, right. Zax. Waterworld. Those of you who have been fortunate enough never to have seen this film only need to know that it's set in a future in which the earth (yes, our earth) has been covered by several thousand feet of water, presumably due to Global Warming. It's really unclear where Global Warming came up with all the water necessary to do this, but it's a wily foe. The film stars Kevin Costner, who in the film has evolved gills and (more remarkably) the ability to keep a straight face while portraying a man who has evolved gills. What have you got to say about it, Zax?

The first thing we see our hero do in the film is recycle: The Mariner (as Costner's character is known) has a device that transforms his urine into potable water, which he shares with a small potted lime tree. Even when in a bind, the Mariner insists on piloting his three-hulled catamaran solely with a renewable resource, wind.

The Mariner's enemies are the aptly named Smokers, pirates who chain-smoke ancient cigarettes and favor gas-guzzling biplanes and jet skis. Their leader, the militaristic Deacon (a manic Dennis Hopper), is staunchly anti-science, declaring that God made "both man and fish, and no combination thereof. He does not abide the notion of evolution!" The car that he wheels around his supertanker sports a "NUKE THE WHALES" bumper sticker, and he worships "Saint Joe" Hazelwood, pilot of the Exxon Valdez. An enemy of sustainable living—he heads something called the Church of Eternal Growth—he is obsessed with finding the mythical Dryland, which he plans to rape as soon as he gets his hands on it: "If there's a river we'll dam it, and if there's a tree we'll ram it," he sermonizes to his flock.

This is a pretty apt description of what's going on, so I have to conclude that Zax and I are talking about the same movie. The funny part is that he's using the above paragraph to make his case that it is a good movie, while I'm making the exact opposite contention. It's an awful movie. If you could go to prison for making a bad movie, Kostner never would have been free to make Swing Vote, unless it were filmed in the cell in which he'd be serving 136 consecutive life sentences, one for each minute of Waterworld. It is that bad.

Mr. Zax appears to be claiming that this is a good film because the above-described villains are a pretty clever characterization of Republicans. Don't you get it? They worship a dead guy, love chain-smoking, violence, and (most of all) pollution, and they don't believe in evolution! Ho ho ho! Zing. Nail, head, etc.

His central thesis here is that this was all somehow missed when the movie came out, since it was back in the hedonistic nineties, before everyone got hip to what was goin' down on Environment Street. I'm forced to conclude that David Zax is younger than I am.

You see, back in the 'nineties we had Republicans just like the ones we have today, and we also had environmentalists (though at the time all they would talk about was a supposed hole in the Ozone Layer), and we also had preachy science fiction films, most of which were better than Waterworld. The film wasn't ahead of its time, Dave. If anything, it missed the 'Mad Max' bus by a good decade.

Attempts have been made to give global warming a face—the polar bear, New Orleans—and eco-thrillers like The Day After Tomorrow have imagined what sudden climate change might look like. But the task of making people care about the future is tougher. And few things can make the future more vivid than a good science fiction movie. Is Waterworld such a film?

No. It is not.

[D]espite being a better movie than most people remember, Waterworld has its limitations as an eco-parable. It doesn't begin, as does The Day After Tomorrow, with a standoff between a climate scientist and a Cheney-esque symbol of corporate greed, nor does it issue an implicit ultimatum, as did last year's remake of The Day the Earth Stood Still (in which Keanu Reeves played an alien sent to Earth to assess whether humans could change their planet-abusing ways or whether they should simply be exterminated).

Wow. I'd like to take this opportunity to thank Zax for doing his part to keep the "Dick Cheney as a buzzword for anything evil" meme going. Thanks, Zax. Thax. Also, is that really what the remake of The Day The Earth Stood Still was about? Because in the original film, the aliens showed up to warn humans not to bring our waring ways into space with us, because if we did, we'd have this guy to contend with:
Yes, if you are wondering, it is an awesome film (by the way, I stole that picture from here). Like Waterworld, it was preachy science fiction, but it was anti-war, which is actually, like, a real problem, man.

In the end, what stymies the environmentalist who would tease a message out of Waterworld is this: It isn't grim enough. When the protagonists aren't in the middle of a swashbuckling set piece, they're patiently coping and demonstrating hope. "We'll just start over again," says that old inventor good-naturedly after his city is sacked. The film ends happily with the discovery of Dryland (Mount Everest, it turns out), an abundant paradise with cascading fresh water and galloping wild horses.

Dude, I'm trying to tell you: the message is there. On the surface. You don't have to tease the message out of the film, because anyone who is foolish enough to watch the movie will get it's corny message right in the first few corny seconds of the awful thing.

Sigh. Where am I going with this? I don't even know. If you've stuck with me through this whole thing, waiting for some kind of punchline, I haven't got one. Let me try to sum all this up, just to have it make some kind of sense:

-Don't watch Waterworld. No, not even ironically.
-Don't watch the remake of The Day The Earth Stood Still.
-Watch the original The Day The Earth Stood Still. It's awesome. Also, I'm pretty sure that Gort, the nine-foot, faceless robot could act the pants off of Keanu Reaves.
-On a related note, I would totally watch Bill & Gort's Excellent Adventure.
-David Zax has a funny last name, and I've been writing this whole time picturing someone who looks like this dude.

That is all. I'm sorry. I promise that my next post will be shorter.

And what is with airline food?

Any Gmail users on the blog tonight? Come on, don't be shy! I love Gmail, I really do, but it also kinda scares me. You ever take a look at those ad banners that pop up on the side of your email? Those scare me! Someone, or something, is reading my emails! So, I'm emailing my wife this morning, and somewhere I mention that I haven't been sleeping well lately, and then suddenly this shows up (click for to make bigger):


I, for one, welcome our new robot overlords, but there's more: Play a didgeridoo? What? You're offering me an aboriginal flute to help me sleep? This calls for a quick consultation of the Font of All Human Knowledge!

"A 2005 study in the British Medical Journal found that learning and practicing the didgeridoo helped reduce snoring and sleep apnea, as well as daytime sleepiness. This appears to work by strengthening muscles in the upper airway, thus reducing their tendency to collapse during sleep."

Huh. It's worth pointing out that the study was of a mere 25 patients, including the control group, but still. Weird. I mean, is this a joke? Is there some email-reading robot out there playing a joke on the Cous? It certainly wouldn't be my first encounter with a malfeasant android.

How am I supposed to get to sleep now?

So for those of you who had trouble following along at home: insomnia, robots, didgeridoos. Got all that?

A Keep In The Vote Update

Newsweek: Bruce Springsteen rocks for Obama at O*** State.

It's just... wow. My head hurts. There's so much going wrong in the headline alone. Springsteen continues his relentless assault on rock music as an art form, at a rally for a politician that is also a voter registration drive, at You-Know-Where.

I'm trying to convince myself that this trifecta of pure evil is an incredible fluke, and not some sure sign of the impending apocalypse, but I'm not doing a very good job of it. America, we hardly knew ye.

And Just Like That, The World Ended

I probably shouldn't be blogging right now. I admit that my main (and originally only) reason for being at my computer right now is to buy child-sized bow ties for the ring bearers (three) in my upcoming wedding. The thing is, I got distracted. This might have something to do with the fact that I'm moving, and figured that it's better to just finish off that bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon, rather than have to pack it and move it to my apartment. I know, I'm a freaking genius. Anyhoo, I flipped a few channels on telly to discover that Spike TV is currently airing the special edition (you know, the only one George Lucas will admit is extant) of Star Wars Episode IV: A New Hope, also known over at the People's Republic of D.Cous. (which is the fictional country/blog your browser is currently displaying, for reasons unknown) as one of the finest films ever made. You're probably aware of my opinion of the special editions: The remastered sound and picture, not to mention the widescreen format, are an incredible improvement over previous VHS versions of the films available. The added digital effects? They have always been worse than the now 30-year-old special effects that used actual physical models, and now they also look worse than contemporary digital effects, which still look worse than the 30-year-old techniques utilized for the original films. Also added were a few moments of footage originally cut from the film, right before the rebels attack the Death Star, where Luke reconnects with his old pal, Biggs (you know, Biggs). It's actually pretty sad, since they're both so excited to be rebel pilots just like they've always dreamed of, and the final words spoken by Biggs before they board their respective X-Wings is "They'll never stop us!"

And then, ten minutes later, Biggs, while shouting the word "Wait!" gets killed by Darth Vader. So sad.

As I said, I got a little distracted. It was in this state of distraction (relax-I also found my initial query) that one of the blogs I sometimes read directed me to this video.

Holy freaking crap, am I right? I have to admit that this actually makes me feel sort of important, since I now know exactly when and how the world will end. I feel sort of like Chuck Heston in Planet of the Apes, realizing too late that mankind's inventiveness proved to be its undoing.

On September 26, 2008, it's gonna feel pretty *@#$%&*#* real to you too! Anyone not wearing two million sunblock is gonna have a really bad day, get it?

As an aside (as if I had a main thrust from which to deviate here), another possible sign of the coming apocalypse is the fact that my spell checker in Firefox did not flag the word "blogging" as any kind of mistake. Apparently, the popular abbreviation for "Nerdy World Wide Web of Information Superhighways Diary/Captain's Log" is now a verb in the English language.

I now believe that I have referenced so much popular science fiction in a single blog post that I have probably broken the Inter-webs. I apologize.