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50,000 Monkeys at 50,000 Typewriters Can't Be Wrong

scalzi on fame

Posted on 1 April, 2008 By Wil

John Scalzi is doing this cool feature on Whatever where he takes lets readers ask him questions, to which he provides thoughtful and entertaining answers. I’ve thought about doing this (and did it for a brief time on Radio Free Burrito) but I’m not all that good at it, especially when John sets the bar as high as he does.

Today, he was asked a question about fame that goes something like this: ". . . you have the perfect type of fame. You are unlikely to be mobbed in the
streets, however, at certain places (ConFusion, for example, we were on
our way there when we had this discussion), you are among the most
famous, most recognized, and most well-respected people in the room. Do
you agree that this is the perfect fame level, or would being just a
little bit more, or even a little bit less, famous suit you better?"

In fact, it goes exactly like that, due to the power of copy and paste.

John’s answer is pretty much what I would say, if I were asked the same question:

I am famous in a very constrained and limited way, to a small number of
people, who have to go to a certain place at a certain time in order to
see me at all: usually a science fiction convention or a book signing.
Outside these constrained and limited circumstances, I am distinctly unfamous; indeed, as a late-thirties balding man of modest height, weight and physical attractiveness, I am practically invisible to
anyone under the age of 30, and visible to anyone over that age only to
the extent that they have to walk around me, or have to have some
limited amount of social interaction with me as we stand in a line or
some such.

I am not balding (yet) and I have the occasional "Hey, I think I know you from someplace . . . oh, you used to be an actor lulz!" thing, but for the most part, I, like John, have exactly the right amount of unfamousness. In fact, when I’m at a con, I never rise to the level of "most recognized, and most well-respected people in the room" because if I’m lucky, I’m standing in line to meet that person.

what if charles schulz created watchmen?

Posted on 1 April, 2008 By Wil

What if Charles Schulz Created Watchmen?

I saw this link on TotalFark this morning. It was created by Evan Shaner, whose mom says, "is a lovely, bright young man," who "should have been a pastor or a doctor."

On a whim I drew up a piece last week asking the question "What if Charles Schulz created the Watchmen?"
and holy crap I had no idea people were going to like it. I posted it
on Deviant Art and the darn thing spread like wildfire. So there you
go, I guess I should
draw more stuff based on jokes that might make Alan Moore angry. If you
Google my name you can find all the places this work has been brought
up, and most of them say something about Moore taking away the rights
from DC over this. Like he’s ever heard of me.

(But if you have Mr. Moore I love Tom Strong.  Please send more Tom Strong.)

If there is any justice in this damned world at all, it will storm the Internets like Mahir Rickrolling a LOLCat.

in which we get the band back together

Posted on 31 March, 2008 By Wil

Last night, Anne and I took our friend out to dinner for his birthday. We invited Nolan to come with us, but he said it would be "boring grown-up talking" and even though he loved us, he’d rather hang out at home.

Allow me to translate: "Wait, I can go with three lame adults to a restaurant, or I can stay home, listen to music as loud as I want, and play Xbox the whole time? You guys have fun, and don’t worry about hurrying back on my account."

When we pulled into the driveway after dinner, I could hear very loud rock music coming from the house.

"That sounds like Wave of Mutilation," I said. "I love that he’s listening to the Pixies!"

I opened the door, and saw that Nolan wasn’t just listening to the Pixies. He was playing the Pixies on Rock Band. The song ended as I closed the door behind me and walked into our living room.

Anne said, "Will you come back to our bedroom and help me fold clothes?"

"Yeah," I said. "I’ll be right there."

I turned to Nolan.

"What the hell?" I said.

At this point, I should back up a little bit. I ask Nolan to play Rock Band with me every day, and every day he says he doesn’t want to, because it’s not that fun for him. I know, I know, I’m doing my best to correct this egregious defect in his personality, but I think we all remember how clinically insane we all were when we were his age.

"What?" Nolan said, innocently.

"I ask you every day to play Rock Band with me, and you always say you don’t want to play because it isn’t fun."

He put the drumsticks in his lap — oh, yeah, he was playing drums, which is my instrument — and deadpanned "Well, I’m not having any fun."

"I’m personally hurt," I said as melodramatically as I could. I put my hand over my heart. I sniffed. I pushed out my bottom lip.

I sighed, heavily.

"Would you like to play together?" He said.

"Heck yes I would!"

I ran to the back of the house.

"Hey," I said to Anne, "Is it okay if –"

"Did you want to rock out together before we put away the clothes?"

"Yeah," I said, "Nolan and I were — wait. Together?"

"I need more cowbell," she said.

And that is how, for the next hour, the three of us played Rock Band. Together. On a school night.

saturday morning flashback

Posted on 29 March, 2008 By Wil

Set the wayback machine for the early 80s, Sherman. Any Saturday morning will do . . .

I was such a nerd, I thought Timer was actually kind of cool. He taught us how to be healthy through song!

I was such a nerd, I thought the Dungeons  & Dragons cartoon was really cool.

Except for Uni. I hated that stupid little Scrappy Doo idiot.

Remember how excited you were to see your favorite video games become cartoons? The only thing that could have been better for a kid in 1983 would have been turning your favorite video games into a cereal!

Hmm . . . on second thought, maybe not.

Happy Saturday, everyone.

Angel One Review at TV Squad

Posted on 28 March, 2008 By Wil

My review of Angel One, which is part of the Top Five Most Painful TNG Episodes Ever, is up at TV Squad.

If you missed this morning’s preview (and if you did, what the hell, man?) here’s another bit of Mojo for your Nixon:

When they get to the planet, we discover that the women are all
statuesque beauties with perfectly feathered hair, and the men are all
refugees from Planet Simper V. After a tense palaver with the planet’s
only two leaders with any opinions whatsoever, Mistresses Beata and
Ariel, the away team is sent to their room to think about what they did
while mommy and mommy talk. Like all kids who are sent to their rooms,
though, instead of contritely thinking about what they did, they plot
against the people who sent them there.

Troi says that pretty
much everyone in the room was freaked out about something. Maybe it has
something to do with the Odin crew. Tasha’s insightful analysis: "Why?
Good question." Data (and the audience) wonder what they’ll do if the
Mistresses deny the existence of any survivors. Hey, that’s a good
question, and probably something we’d all like to be prepared for,
right, Riker? Actually, no. Riker petulantly tells Data, "Let’s not
look for problems." Yeah, because looking for and solving problems just
isn’t the way we do things in Starfleet, dog.

Of all the reviews I’ve done so far, this was the hardest for me to write. I didn’t work on the episode for more than one day, so I don’t have that many behind the scenes memories. The final product is so unbelievably horrible, it was a challenge to do more than write, "This thing was stupid, this thing was also stupid, this thing should be retconned, this thing was lame," etc.

So I wrote the first draft, and I asked Andrew to give me some help with the rewrite. I figured that he would have his own take on it, and would be able to help me find jokes where I was missing them. He did, and so far, the jokes everyone is picking out as their favorites were all written by him. I believe in giving credit where credit is due, so direct your praise for Worf’s sinuses and Riker’s wait for command in Andrew’s direction. He also found a gag to go with the vase, which I wanted to put in, but just couldn’t find on my own. The snu-snu, though, was all me, baby. The spirit is willing, but the flesh is spongy and bruised.

The column was getting long, so I didn’t have space to include something that I think it historically important about this show. If I only had a blog where I could share the additional information, I’d say . . .

Angel One is mostly crap, but the original story  sounds like it was pretty cool. Larry Nemecek’s Star Trek The Next Generation Companion (which is a surreal experience for me to read, because it speaks to the fanboy and cast member in me simultaneously) says that "Heavy rewrites changed Patrick Barry’s original story — a direct, action-filled, allegory to apartheid using the sexes instead of the races to make his point." Larry gives more plot details in the book, which I won’t reprint here because I think that probably exceeds fair use. Director Michael Rhodes says that a big reason this story falls flat was Gene’s determination to strip any conflict out of this script, and that Gene decreed that there was "no place for conflict in Star Trek." I hate to be critical of Gene, but I clearly remember Rhodes and several members of the cast sitting on Stage 6 one morning, absolutely incredulous that anyone could think that interesting drama was possible without conflict.

You know how you’re a kid, and your parents are arguing about something, and you know they’re arguing but they tell you everything’s fine, we’re just talking, so go back to bed? That’s how I felt during this entire episode (even though I wasn’t working on it, I was there every day to go to school.) The actors hated it. I mean, they really, really hated it — almost as much as I hate Dick Cheney. I haven’t been able to confirm this with people
who allegedly participated, but I’ve heard from other Star Trek alumni
that some of the actors hated this script so much — it was even more
sexist and stupid in one of the drafts that it is in the final cut, if
you can believe that — they refused to work for a day or so until
various things were rewritten. Some people would say that’s a case of
actors being difficult, but I’d say it’s an example of how much we all
cared about the show, and how we all wanted it to be awesome and
successful.

Oh, and if you Digg it and Propel it, a talking goat will bring you a box of wine, for free! If that doesn’t wax your skis, I can assure you that Digging and Propelling will get you laid. And who doesn’t like that?

(Heh. "get you laid" sounds like 9th grade tough-guy talk during lunch. It also makes me think of Beavis and Butthead, for some reason.)

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