Dragoncon 2007 OR How Important a Balloon Becomes When One Has Been Standing In Line All Day

2007 has truly been the Year of Conventions for Luke Jones. I'm no stranger to these unusual groupings of weird people from all over, but I have never been to so many of them in one year. Not only that, but each convention I've attended this year has increased exponentially each time. Botcon, for example, usually gathers a few thousand unwashed Transformers fanatics. My second 'con this year, Otakon, saw around 20,000 insufferable Japanophiles pass through its doors.

This third one, Dragoncon, sauteed Otakon with a light Botcon sauce and served them to me on a Star Trek Collector's Plate. I had no idea it was the largest and most massive nerd convention in the world before I was actually there. It apparently even beats out the immortal Comic-Con by sheer numbers. And it doesn't make any limits as to what kind of social outcast can attend; this convention saw everyone from ren-fair types to trekkies to stormtroopers (see picture) to goths, all the way to LARPers and--yes--Furries.

The 'con, which takes place in Atlanta every year, spreads over four days of dorky madness, and, like a zombie holocaust, has infected its way across three gigantic hotels. I heard a bewildered attendee mention the attendance being in the 60,000 area. I might mention that at least a third of these attendees were in costume.

And what costumes! I saw everything from Slave Leia to Fox McCloud to the Wicked Witch of the West (the pictures of which I will be posting on Facebook). We missed the Stormtrooper/Slave Leia parade, and Robert and I drooled over joining the "501st Legion," a group of Star Wars fans who make movie-quality Stormtrooper costumes and appear at charities and nerd conventions. The cost of making a costume was too exorbitant for our current statuses, however.

But before we got to enjoy all of the wonders of Dragoncon, we had to undergo one of the foremost nerd convention traditions: waiting on line. My friend Tyler's dad, who was graciously allowing us to stay at his house (since Tyler lives in Atlanta) decided not to purchase advance tickets, and didn't quite realize the scope of the event. Thus, we began our long wait.

The amazingly long line had two thrilling segments, one which snaked around the building (during which Robert, Tyler, and I explored the no-badge-required areas of the hotels), and a second which filled up a large room inside the Hyatt (seen above). This was the most mind-numbingly long line I have ever waited on. During the wait, an intelligent individual inflated a balloon and sent it flying over the crowd. The resulting obsession over keeping the balloon in the air truly revealed the insanity of people who have done nothing but stand for hours. A second balloon soon revealed itself, a smaller red one. This balloon didn't last very long, and upon its destruction, the crowd's boos and hisses were heard throughout the building, and the perpetrator of the balloon-popping was raised up on a steel crucifix, amidst the exultation of the children. A raven from hades was sent to gouge out his eyes. I'll let you decide how much of that previous segment was true.

In the center of the room, visible to those who had made it over halfway through the line, was a large flat-screen television, playing various home-movie segments and pseudo-commercial bumpers which would have made Adult Swim proud. Nearby were two long tables, alternately littered with discarded soft drink bottles and sign-up forms, upon the reverse sides of which were scrawled the miserable woes of the masses. I took one, hastily wrote "WHO WATCHES THE WATCHMEN," which I considered to be a worthy comic book reference, and moved on.

Most of my experience at the convention involved trying to find the most absurd or well-made costumes, and trying not to look at the 45-year-old women in fishnets. The rest was exploring the two floors of dealer rooms, and attempting to convince Brent Spiner that I wasn't a jerk.

Oddly enough, though Dragoncon is larger than Comic-Con, the celebrity roster wasn't too impressive. Most of them were stars of various sci-fi shows and movies, including Star Trek (Brent Spiner, Jonathan Frakes); Star Wars (Ray Park; David Prowse; Peter Mayhew; that one guy who got force choked in the first movie); Farscape (most of the cast); Battlestar Galactica, Beast Master, etc. Three actors from the Harry Potter movies were present, namely the gentlemen who play the Weasley twins, and the young man who plays Neville, sporting a frightening 5-o-clock shadow.

I came back from this convention with three Godzilla poster reproductions, a camera full of pictures, and a significant boost in self-esteem. I will definitely go again.

Obituary for the World's Only Reliable Newspaper

Ever since I was but a wee lad, I've always been fascinated by the completely absurd headlines screaming at me under the name "WEEKLY WORLD NEWS." Whether they claim that the president is actually an alien in league with bigfoot or are reporting on the latest exploits of a certain vampire lad, I never got tired of what sort of insane stories the WWN were perpetrating as truth.

That's why when, as I was reading The Onion (ironically enough), I was faintly horrified to discover that, as of August 3, 2007, the WWN would cease publication. I did some quick searching to verify that this was true, discovered that it was, and sat back to drink this in. I recall scanning the magazines in a supermarket one day, wearily reading the headlines about this or that celebrity enduring rehab or having babies, and then my eyes fell on the headline "GIANT BATS ATTACK AIRPLANE." It was strangely refreshing, knowing that at least one tabloid doesn't take itself so seriously.

I also appreciated the irony of their slogan, "The World's Only Reliable Newspaper." It rings somewhat true, considering that one can always rely on WWN's stories to be ludicrous. They will never let you down. And come on, who can argue that heavy-handed political cartoons or reports on the latest mistakes our government is making are more awesome than "Man stabs himself to death with toothbrush." No one, that's who.

WWN has drawn my eyes ever since I was tiny, and I seem to remember that it wasn't the only tabloid reporting on how Bill Gates was hiding the loch ness monster. I wasn't so surprised, then, when I read on WWN's wikipedia article that one large corporation bought most of the tabloids in publication, and promptly changed them all to celebrity-reporting rags.

Sigh.

I'm really gonna miss that stupid paper.

WEEKLY WORLD NEWS, 1979-2007

The Consequences of Owning a Cell Phone

So just past midnight tonight I heard my relatively new cell phone ring from the other room. I ran in to pick it up, wondering who would be calling at that hour, and the ID read "private."

I don't know anyone named private, so of course I was highly curious as to who was calling. Maybe it was a secret society calling to initiate me. Maybe it was the president. Maybe it was a zombie president, calling from beyond the grave! So I picked up the phone. Here's how the conversation went:

Me: Hello?
Them: Heyyy
Me: H-hello.
Them: Heyyyyy
Me: Who is this?
Them: This is !
Me: Who again?
Them: Reggie !
Me: I...don't know anyone named Reggie.
Them: Oh. So are you some kind of crazy drug-dealing f***er?
Me: Yeah...something like that.
Them: Wow. Yeah. Are you really?
Me: Not really, no. But you never know, right? I could be anyone.
Them: Right. Okay, bye, you crazy dumb cracker.
Me: Righto!
*hangup*

There you have it. Midnight call from drunken weirdos? I'm thinking very yes. So next time I get a phone call from Private...I will definitely take it. And I will be ready. And knowing...is half the battle. The other half is pretending to be a Harvard Lockjaw at a wine party.

At World's Edge

I spent the previous week on my first family vacation since we went to Quebec in the summer of two-thousand and three. This time we were too cool to pick just one place to vacation, so we visited not one but three popular tourist locations. They were

A. Colonial Williamsburg

B. Busch Gardens

C. Virginia Beach

Now you have to decide which of them I'm going to write about. Finished? Okay, the correct answer is "none," because I'm not writing, I'm typing. You might even say I'm blogging, but I'm not sure if I like that made-up verb. Anyway I'm going to type/blog (blype? tyog? is every typer a blogger? is every blogger a typer? come on, your ACT grade depends on this) about number C, the Beach of Virginia, ostensibly the longest pleasure beach in the known universe.

Virginia Beach is massive, full of half-clad people with an affinity for UV rays, and guarded by a colossal statue of Neptune. Except for the latter, that's generally what you'd expect from a beach, right? Yesss. Anyway I'm not going to talk more about the beach because we did exactly what everyone does at the beach: swim not more than 50 meters from the shore and get mad sunburns. I assume that's what everyone with my complexion does, anyhow.

Instead I'm going to talk about one of those things that no beach in the USA is complete without: the Beach Souvenir Shop. If one removed all of the dollar stores and gas station gift shelves from the earth, these would be the tackiest places on the planet. I have compiled a list in my head, soon to be in your head, of the things (besides standard beach equipment) that beach souvenir shops must have in order to qualify:

1. Several shelves of cheap, ceramic sculptures of dolphins; mermaids; pirates; or any combination of the above three

2. White t-shirts displaying, in various degrees of discreteness, any of the following subjects: location of the beach one is staying at; displays of one's ability to woo and take advantage of the opposite sex; aptitude to become intoxicated; aptitude to woo and take advantage of the opposite sex while intoxicated; one's identity as a pirate; one's disregard for anything another human being may have to say; misogyny; misandry; misanthropy.

3. Novelty beach towels of varying sizes containing any of the following: dragons; the sun; sharks; dolphins; jolly rogers; females of the centerfold variety; large felines.

4. Large amounts of pirate-related paraphernalia.

5. Shot glasses. Possibly displaying any of the subjects listed under "T-shirts."

6. Various articles of clothing displaying brands of alcoholic beverages.

The above are required to created the barest of minimums for a beach souvenir shop. A couple of other things really add to the tack, however:

-Dead sea creatures, whole or in part, in displayable modes IE a shark in a jar or a head of a small alligator.

-Free hermit crabs! Of course they are only free with the purchase of a tank, shell, food...

-Alcoholic beverages.

I spent more time in beach souvenir shops than I ever have at VA beach, mostly because I was looking for a really sweet novelty beach towel to take home with me. Like, something with ninjas or dinosaurs or a dancing skeleton or maybe a castle. Of course, none of these subjects were represented in anything I could find and I eventually gave up. Instead I decided I would buy a hermit crab and smuggle it into my dorm come the school season. I haven't actually gotten one yet, but the time is coming...

It's Voldemort or me this time

I must disclaim that in this entry, much like the F-1 Races, there will be spoilers. This is your final warning...

S
P
O
I
L
T

R
O
T
T
E
N

Got it? All right. This is gonna be lengthy. I feel both Rowling and Potter deserve it.

So, as you have already gathered, I am now joining the millions and millions of bloggers accross the internets in posting about one of my generations' most notable pop culture events: the release and reading of the Seventh Harry Potter book. I have, like many of my friends, been reading the Harry Potter series since it came out. I read the first two when I was in Junior High, after my mother ordered them from some book club. I thought they were pretty fantastic, but I don't think I really, really fell in love with them until the fifth volume. I am not entirely certain what it was about that particular one, but by that point, I felt as if the events in Harry, Ron, and Hermione's lives were happening to real friends of mine. I suffered and rejoiced as they did.

Somehow despite all of that I didn't read the sixth book until a half-year after it was released. When I finally did get around to it, after re-reading the fourth and fifth installments, the book left an indelible mark on my psyche as no work of fiction ever had. Maybe because the troubles in the books worked as a proper escape to the difficult relationship problems I was going through at the time, and perhaps because Harry's love interest in the book struck me in a way I'd never felt (it's true; a fictional character had stolen my heart, something which perhaps only Pippi Longstocking can also lay claim).

As things happen, my constant thoughts about what might happen to Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny dwindled, but the undying psychological mark carved by Half-Blood Prince remained, and I had not forgotten it by the time Deathly Hallows was finally released over a year after I had finished the previous book. A few days before the release I re-read Half-Blood Prince, and even knowing what was coming in the narrative didn't stop it from being every bit as intense at the first time (my faulty memory helped with that as well).

I picked up my pre-ordered copy of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows one day after the release. I was immediately both impressed and apprehensive at the simple note on the inside of the dust jacket, in place of a lengthy description: "We now present the seventh and final installment in the epic tale of Harry Potter." I opened the book to discover two lengthy quotations prefacing the story, both of them relating to death. I knew that book seven would be a serious, and perhaps deadly, narrative from what J.K. Rowling had already said about it. She had even stated that, initially, writing the book felt like "a bereavement." I was prepared for the worst.

Indeed, the book has the highest death count of any of the series by far, many of them important and beloved characters. In the first couple days of reading the book, I was almost frightened to return to it, scared of what things Harry might lose when I turned a page. Sometimes the feeling in my stomach was akin to the tingling before a job interview, or while mustering up the courage to ask someone out (fortunately I know about this).

If I were an easy crier, I would definitely have shed tears at numerous points in the book. I did feel that lurching and wonderful joyous tear-welling at least once, as the heroes began to retake their school and certain characters who in lesser narratives would be relegated to comedy relief positions proved themselves to be something more (Neville Longbottom, specifically).

I was not surprised that Harry Potter was to "die." The ominous feeling about the book was too much to expect any less, although I was not sure whether to expect him to die with finality, or to die temporarily as he did in the book. The connections between this part of the book and certain Biblical narratives are too obvious to overlook, but more on that later. I had half expected Ron or Hermoine to meet a horrible fate, or even Ginny, but I was overjoyed that this didn't happen. It's a testament to the strength of Rowling's characters that I felt for each and every one of them who died, even the minor figures.

All of this emotional strength has caused me to wonder what it is about Rowling's writing that makes it so endearing to me, and to the millions of others that caused Deathly Hallows to break sales records so easily. I am still not sure, but my attention wasn't lost on an article I read connecting Rowling's narratives to Biblical narratives. It implied that we, as humans, are drawn to things which show us our supernatural destiny and how we must achieve it. Rowling has announced her Christianity, although whether she intended certain elements in Harry Potter to be Biblical allegory, we may never know. Certainly Harry's death, descension, resurrection, and subsequent obliteration of a most high evil can quickly be seen as a similarity to Jesus's experiences on Earth. Deathly Hallows is also the only Harry Potter book to contain direct quotations from the Bible, although they are not labeled as such.

As far as Christians being opposed to the story and themes contained in Harry Potter, I can't imagine there being a more misappropriated concern. If they think we have anything to be afraid of from Harry Potter, perhaps they should reexamine the fiction of the infallible CS Lewis. He certainly wasn't afraid to write about magic. In any case, I have to quote here a resonating section from the article I read earlier today: "Rowling is a satirist of the first rank, I think, and she isn't pulling any punches in the books in her critique of government, the courts, the media, institutional schooling, organized sports, everything oddly enough except religion."

I am sad to see the Harry Potter series end, but I can't deny that it left in a proper fashion. I think Rowling's decision to end the series with finality was a wise one. That way Potter wouldn't end up in a position like Sherlock Holmes, dead at the hands of a villain and an author who was tired of forever writing his stories. Deathly Hallows wrapped everything up in a fashion which I found suitable and fitting for the tired hero. Our beloved characters, nineteen years later, married as we had hoped they would be, and with no more brooding evil hovering over their heads. At the moment I feel strangely detached from Harry Potter, where previously I felt like he and his friends were almost a part of me. Perhaps because I know, finally, that they are safe and will live, that part of me can, at length, relax.

It's strange to say these things about a group of humans who have never existed, but I only express what I feel.

I'm not sure how long my feelings of infatuation and identification with the world of Harry Potter will remain with me, until something else overtakes them (I am, after all, a human being subject to the ebb and flow of emotions), but I know for sure that I will always remember the indelible mark that Rowling has left not only on me, but on the culture of nations accross the globe.

Luke VS Otakon

I confess. I'm not planning on following up my previous entry. Maybe I'll put some gratuitous pictures of the Giant Tree at the end of this entry. Or maybe I won't! Who knows! Not even The Shadow knows!

That's not the point of this entry, though. Even though I'm now devoid of a suitable camera, and have been for some time, I feel it is my duty to report on my recent adventures to the city of Baltimore, Maryland--for that mecca of anime nerds, the largest Japanophile convention on this side of the planet: Otakon.

Over the past year or so I've become a heavily jaded fan of anime and Japanese-related things. I've seen and heard of too many people become obsessed to a fault over the superiority of Japanese multimedia over our own, and after spending a good month and a half in that very country, I've had a lot of second and third thoughts. In short, I've turned my back on anime and manga at large. That's not to say I dislike it, merely that I'm many times more wary of it. I still consider the top animators from Japan to be some of the best ever, but I've seen too much other beautiful animation from other countries besides Japan to put as much faith in it as I once did.

Shows with giant robots still turn me on, though.

In any case, my brother decided not to do 1812 Reenactments with my dad this past weekend, for various reasons, and since Otakon happened to be on that same weekend, he figured that was a suitable substition. I agreed to drive him (Baltimore is a mere 45 miles from here), and off we went on Saturday.

Otakon was a Friday-Saturday-Sunday event, but we only went for one day. Now, as everyone knows, I've been to Transformers conventions. I've been to the largest one each year, save one, since 2000. That convention usually gathers 4-5000, a respectable number.

This one, however, was an entirely different ballpark. Otakon, as a quick search on Wikipedia tells me, has been running since 1994, which makes it one year older than Botcon, the Transformers convention. Evidently anime fans have enjoyed a much larger and much more exponential increase in fandom since 1994, since the brochure for this year's meeting informed me that they expected a whopping 22,000 attendees. That's larger than the town I go to school in!

Another thing a person may not realize about anime conventions is the tradition of "cosplay," which, if you don't feel like reading wikipedia, is another word for "dressing up in ridiculously complex costumes in order to represent your favorite anime/videogame character." This is extremely common at anime conventions, and since Otakon is the largest, it was even moreso. At a guess, I would expect a full one-third of the attendees to have been in costume.

Most costumes were from anime of some sort (there was an abundance of Naruto-related costumery), but nobody thought the lesser of folk dressed as video game characters, or even completely unrelated costumes. I saw at least two Enterprise officers, as well as some Twi'Leks engaged in a lightsaber duel. If you know what a Twi'Lek is, you gain +10 nerd points. I also found that for every common anime costume, there are two versions: the regular version, and the morbidly obese version. This is true for both male and female costumes.

Also notable about anime conventions is the non-gender-specificity. While Botcon is by no means an all-male convention, the females are definitely few and far between. Otakon, and I imagine anime cons in general, are far more gender-neutral. There were far more (attractive) females than any Botcon I've ever attended. I must note, as well, that at anime conventions, cross-dressing is not only acceptable, it seems to be encouraged.

In fact, a female dressed as Link, the Hero of Hyrule, was responsible for one of the more breathtaking parts of the convention. But more on that later.

After registering, and walking around in awe of the insanely detailed costumes parading by, and spending a little money in the (enormous) dealer's room, I decided to take a break. While leafing through the convention brochure in a nearby Starbucks, I encountered a blurb about an attraction named "Geppi's Entertainment Museum." I recognized the building as being very close to the center, and made it my next destination.

The Museum was located on the upper floor of an old Train Station, sharing the rest of the space with a Sports Legends-themed museum. Geppi's museum, to my utter delight, was a small space dedicated to the history of Pop Culture in America. I've long desired to see a museum devoted entirely to Pop Culture, and was previously unaware that such a thing existed. In short it was beyond my wildest expectations. There was one entire room displaying comics from the 30s and 40s to the present (a small wonder, considering the museum is owned and was created by the owner of Diamond Comic Distributors), as well as another area displaying only Star Wars collectibles and nothing else. Basically it was the greatest thing ever.

I spent an hour and half ogling original Walt Kelley prints, and had a chat with one of the museum workers about the place and about Otakon. She told me Otakon had risen in popularity dramatically in the past few years, and as a result the quality of the costumes had suffered. Regardless, she told me, I should go back for the event called the "Masquerade," in which members of the convention present short skits, and afterward the best costumes of the weekend are paraded out. Basically it was a nerd talent show.

I did return in time to wait on a titanic line bordering the entire building, which fortunately moved quickly as soon as the doors opened. My brother joined me momentarily. The theater where the Masquerade took place was immense, clearly intended to provide for large concerts or maybe an awesome laser-light show. The people onstage were barely visible from our vantage point, but thankfully there were two titanic screens which provided decent viewing of the skits.

There were around 40 skits in all, ranging from the embarrassingly bad (a lone nerd playing out shaky renditions of Zelda tunes on an ocarina, joined by an awkward friend who, we are told, forgot his instrument) to the completely contrived (the entire "Charlie the Unicorn" sequence reenacted by Kingdom Hearts characters); to the freakin' amazing (more on that in just a sec). The parading of costumes, afterward, was also quite satisfying.

Now, since I don't have any pretty pictures to show you, I decided I'd do something a bit different. Fortunately for me, some kind souls illegally recorded some skits during the masquerade, and uploaded them onto our favorite YouTube! That's right, free videos! And I found footage of some of my favorite skits, as well...

Firstly, we have a bunch of unusally acrobatic nerds dressed as Street Fighter characters jumping and vaulting around and performing various video-game inspired moves, all to music. Their choreography is actually pretty great, and their kicks and leaps are very accurate to the impossible gravity-defying special moves they are trying to imitate.



That was pretty cool, but this next one is the one I will remember for the rest of my nerd days. This little girl, dressed as Link, mentioned earlier, flounced out onto the stage, tossed aside her shield, and drew from her scabbard not the Blade of Evil's Bane, but a shiny gold flute. She raised it to her lips and proceeded to play what I can only describe as the most intense arrangement of Zelda melody that I have ever heard, to the delight and astonishment of the audience. It really must be seen and heard to believe, and fortunately this is possible via YouTube. You may have to raise your volume, as this video is particularly low.



She received a couple Judge's awards, but nothing else--I don't know why, as most of the other skits were pretty tame in comparison to this.

The rest of Otakon was mostly spent walking around and staring at the awesome costumes, but I have one more thing for you before signing off:

SPECIAL BONUS!! Footage of Nerd Rave! You must watch this until at least the 1:20 mark so you can see the person dressed as a Wii Controller. Dancing.



Thought I do not, perhaps, share the fandom's enthusiasm for the media, I thoroughly enjoyed myself at Otakon, and will, perhaps, attend again.

Houston Adventures Part I: Surrealists and Bookstores

Fact: Things other than the beach can be fun and interesting during Spring Break!

This past Thursday and Friday were spent adventuring in various parts of Texas. There are plenty of pictures and stuff for each day, so I'm splitting them into two. The first takes place entirely in Houston!

Our original plan for Spring Break was to camp around in Texas, exploring ghost towns (which do, apparently, exist) and fighting rattlesnakes and whatnot. You know, Texas-type things. We couldn't find anyone else to join us on this excursion, however, so I just decided to come to Houston, to my friend Robert's house (the man with the ghost town idea) and spend the week there. We couldn't just sit around all week (especially because Robert's siblings drive both of us crazier than we already are), so we put on our thinking caps and did some day tripping.

The first trip can be credited to a book my mother got me for Christmas: 1000 Places to See Before you Die. I checked for Houston, and the only thing listed was something named "The Menil Collection." I looked it up, and it turns out it's an obscure art gallery in the middle of Houston containing a number of important works from the 20th century. Off we went!



The first thing readers should know about Houston is its resemblence to Hogwarts (as Robert constantly notes). By that I mean that roads never seem to lead to the same place twice. Take a look at that picture, and you may see what I mean--notice especially the toppled "No Sidewalk" signage.

After a wrong exit and a breezy drive through some decidedly unsavory neighborhoods, we managed to find the Menil Collection, a stark white building tucked in a wooded subdivision off the St. Thomas University campus. Facing it was a compact park with several of those modern art sculptures that nobody understands. The building itself is also a representative of the school of modern art, with a minimalist exterior, harsh 90 degree angles, and some weird sail-looking things. Pictures:



The first three are of one of the sculptures in the park, and the final two are of the gallery. No pictures were allowed in the gallery itself, and I was a nice little boy so I didn't take any. Inside we were treated to a banquet of 20th century paintings, including things by such artists as Pablo Picasso, Andy Warhol, < href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Piet_Mondrian">Piet Mondrian, Jasper Johns, Mark Rothko (ugh), and Robert Rauschenberg among others. More exciting than the modernist gallery was a substantial serving of some 20th century surrealism, represented by Max Ernst, Man Ray, Giorgio de Chirico, and Rene Magritte (the "Pipe" on his page in Wikipedia was on display in the gallery, even though the picture seems to claim otherwise). Wikipedia's entry on the Menil Collection and even the gallery's own website promises some Salvador Dali pieces, but there were none to be found. Many of the surrealist paintings on display were breathtaking, and several I remembered from my art history book. Besides the 20th century art, the gallery boasted a little sanctuary of ancient and tribal art. As we walked out, we were satisfied in the art portion we had received that day. Also, the museum was free.

The day, however, was far from finished. Having much daylight remaining, Robert decided it was time for me to see one of his favorite places: Quarter-Priced Books. We managed to navigate the Houston road system long enough to find it, and it was indeed everything he promised. Just look at some of the pictures of this place:



Left to Right: The storefront (it was, in fact, a wonderland); A close up on one of those signs; some cook books on a table outside; inner wonderland (the poster is a list of Iraqi terrorist "most-wanted" types); "How To," A couple of red masks; boxes of paperbacks; an interesting cover; a plug for the "Wonder Wall" (more on that later); a blatant statue of what I think is Teddy Roosevelt.

On the inside the place was unlike any bookstore I've ever been into. There were statues everywhere, including that Roosevelt statue pictured above, as well as many other random things. I'm pretty sure that shop had more copies of The Thinker than I've ever seen in one place. The metal skeleton shelves were punctuated with handwritten callout cards describing the sections one was browsing (and there were numerous sections), and as they all appeared to be in the same handwriting as everything else in the store, I would wager they were all done by the same guy. The guy, who was the only employee in there, was an older man with all the appearance of a trucker or mechanic and none of the eccentric professor-osity of a bookstore owner. He wore a loose gray button-up shirt with a pack of Marlboros in the front pocket, and regarded us with sunken eyes accentuated with prominent bags underneath. His gray hair, matching his shirt, was greased back. The counter he worked behind, scattered with sundry trinkets, seemed less of a workspace and more of an extension of his very being. He, essentially, was the store. I would be very surprised if he wasn't the founder and owner.

We pored over the prodigious selection for what seemed like an hour. I marveled at the many numbers of categories, I have never seen fiction divided in so many ways before. Most interesting was the "Wonder Wall," a long section of shelf which seemed to be dedicated to only the most famous and notable of authors in their most expensive and rare volumes (although many other shelves seemed to claim similar things). I needed to buy something from that Wonderland, if only to acknowledge the old man for bringing into being such a unique experience. I ended up with an Ace Double; a pulp sci-fi deal from somewhere between 1950 and 1970 containing two stories; one on each side.

Even after all that, the day was still young, so we drove off in a random direction hoping that something interesting would find us. Fortunately, it did. Far off in the distance, I spotted this:



The Art Deco Obelisk named after one of my home states was too odd to ignore, so we drove by it--and I was floored when I saw one of those old, magnificent movie theaters hollowed out and recreated into...



A bookstore! Clearly the object of the day was to find awesome bookstores, and this one definitely qualified. The store itself was actually owned by Barnes and Nobles, so the selection was nothing I hadn't seen before, but the presentation was what made this one an A-Lister. All of the feel and mood of a movie theater was still there, only instead of food-stained stadium seating there were rows of books, and instead of a massive projector screen there was a newstand. Pictures:



Left to Right: Clever Stop Sign; "Vist Or Cafe;" The rose deco on the ceiling; what used to be the screen area is now the newstand; the greek-style paintings on the walls (huge); a view from the newstand with the balcony cafe; a neon sign advertising various things.

I didn't buy anything from this one. I did, however, give them mad props for creativity.

Before we continued with our little bookstore excursion, we stopped for a heavy lunch at Jack-In-The-Box, a staple of Texas fast food which I had never tried before. Robert, being the expert on this, advised that I order the foremost in arterial nightmares: the Bacon Ultimate Cheeseburger. It was, in fact, the ultimate. I have taken for you a picture of its majesty:



The Ultimately Deadly Burger is not to be consumed without its greasy sidekick, the seasoned Curly Fries. I did not break this sacred law.



The burger itself basically held me over for the rest of the entire day (I couldn't finish my dinner of fajitas later that night, even). After sealing our circulations' fate, we moved on, stopping at one more bookstore before making the journey back. This one was a chain called "Half-Price Books," not related in any way to our friend at Quarter-Price.



Half-Off was probably the most gigantic used book store I've ever been in. Since it's a franchise, it's clean and orderly and alphebetized correctly and all that, so some of the excitement of used book hunting is taken away. Nevertheless, the selection was nothing short of astounding. The store had also expanded to include movies and music, so we spent a good amount of time browsing through various temptations. I did not indulge, however, being satisfied with my Ace Double from earlier.

We left Half-Off and began driving back. The trip back was a search for a comic store called Bedrock City, which we found eventually (and which I did not take any pictures of). It also was graced by the presence of this awesome dog in a car next to us.

Coming next time: a journey to the far lands, in search of an ancient tree and a gargantuan war machine.

PS
Look at this hilarious sign:

I Kill You in the Name of Ethics!

Some questions and answers for Human Sit, only a few days late:

* Are you an iTunes user? If so, please discuss the technology system required to deliver your music!

Nope! Oh oops, that means I can't answer that question!

* Disruptive forces are forces that change the status quo - they somehow throw off the equilibrium and sink social groups, businesses, and even societies into chaos. Identify a technology, past or present, that is serving as a disruptive technology. How is it changing the status quo? How is it impacting society?

It may be unorthodox to think of this as a "technology," but the invention of welfare seems like one of the most disruptive technology in lower class Americas. Listen, America! No longer do you have to work! Now you can just not work and barely scrape by as the government hooks you up to the great gleaming IV tube of its budget! Just make sure you have lots and lots of kids, so you can fully reap the benefits! Oh snap, did we just shoot ourselves in the feet? Well, too late to pull out now! I may be a typical uninterested-in-politics-and-most-current-events type American, but I know that welfare is one big technological mistake that America could have done without.

/Tirade

I also like to think of Interstates and Motors as disruptive technology. They aren't so much disrupting society as they are disrupting our attention to the world around us. Like we all learned so poignantly in Pixar's Cars, the Interstate cuts accross the land like a knife, rather flowing with it (like route 66 did, apparently). Motors allowed for the inventions of automobiles, speed boats, jetliners...all things which have put nature behind in favor of economy. Now don't get me wrong, I drive a car and am not adverse to accumulating some frequent flier miles, but I also believe that sometimes a person needs to put roaring engines away and experience the world in the way it used to be.

We didn't conquer it, we just think we did.

* No one has answered Adam's question fitfully - not even Adam. Do technics that are designed and created for the soul intention of doing something immoral inherently immoral themselves? Does form follow function? If the function is immoral, is the form as well? Can you come up with any other or "better" examples than a radar detector?

Sure. Let's talk about Cigarettes, Cigars, Smokeless Tobacco, and other misery-causing addictive type things. Millions of years ago the surgeon general cast down the whole Tobacco industry into a well of despair and infamy. Since then no one, not even smokers, have said that smoking is a good thing. Except maybe those smokers who can afford cigars for every smoke. What purpose do tobacco products serve besides body-ruining? Supposedly, recreation. I guess there are some people who say "let's go take a recreational smoke for the sake of smoking" and aren't talking about mind-altering drugs.

But still, when the judgment day comes, God isn't going to cast the cigarettes into hell along with the sinners. I'm pretty sure the smokes will to be left behind on earth, along with the radar detectors and the Microsoft Zunes (because those are pure evil).

* Does absolute right and wrong exist? In what context? Does absolute good and bad exist? Are we morally obliged to always do what is absolutely best?

In my eyes, absolute right exists. However, no human can ever attain it in this life. Jesus was the absolute right, and that's why we need his blood (wouldn't that sound terrible if you didn't understand the context?) to save our souls. We are morally obliged to follow Jesus' example as best we can, but to think that we can ever be as Absolutely Good as He is is to go down a road which quickly leads to madness.

I'm a scientist, Betty

When dealing with science, I have to train my mind to listen to what's being said, since I'm right-brained, and therefore more prone to wander off paying more attention to the shoe-color of the person accross from me rather than a formula. Even though it's difficult for me to cross the barrier into left-brained thinking, I do it occassionally, just to test the waters. I'll attempt to do it here to answer some questions about science.

Is science controllable? Should it be? If so, by whom?

As far as I've ever been able to tell, no. Even if the entire nation rose up and formed a 100% unanimous Luddite regime, someone somewhere would still advance the fields of science. We mentioned in class last time that even when America slows research on something due to moral issues, other countries less inclined to pause for morals (such as China) continue it. The thing is, however, no matter how many blind eyes we turn to the advancement of science, it still is. Even though the Catholic church really, really didn't like the idea of a heliocentric solar system, it didn't cause the sun to change its mind. Plus, I like the idea of the sciences helping mankind along on its slow, inevitable roll towards doom. You may call me fatalistic, but I find the apocalypse to be quite poetic.

Why is "Why?" such an uncomfortable question?

Because it's the eternal question! "Why" can be asked about anything, and most of the time cannot be fully answered. All of the other members of the inquisitive party (such as "how" and "where") can be answered quickly, sharply, and with a definite outcome, like a scantron. But "why" can continue to be asked, even about the question "Why." Why ask why? I suppose it's the only question we humans can claim as our own.

It used to be that being a scientist was a big deal! People respected scientists. People valued a scientist's opinion and input. There were few professions more noble than dedicating your life to the advancement of science - not even being a medical doctor was more important! Our modern perception of a scientist is a pasty colored white male with thick glasses, a pocket protector, and no social skills. No one wants their opinion, let alone respects their opinion. Even you, as a class, expressed distrust of NASA - the US's leading science machine - and doubt in the value of the science being conducted by the organization. What changed? Can you point to a specific era in time? Why do we listen more to Al Gore than we do to leading scientist in climatology, biology and environmental science?

Personally, I don't listen to Al Gore at all, especially when he's talking about the internet. As for scientists, the glorified hero scientists of the earlier age died with 80,000 people of a certain city, leaving people with a terrible question: What has science done for us? It seems to me that the Cold War further soured the public's opinion of the Hero Scientist, as he went on to develop more and bigger bombs and missiles for us to wave at Russia and other nuclear countries. Fortunately none of that ever happened. In any case, Science hasn't yet formed for us the utopia that we thought it would (see Star Trek), and as postmodernism continues to rise, the concrete answers provided by the sciences fail to be as concrete as they claim.

On a side note, who now is the heroic society champion that once was the scientist? Is it really the politician? I surely hope not.

To close, let me provide this short clip from one of my favorite movies, which also happens to give my frank opinion on scientists:

Q&A Session

Okay! It's first blogging assigment time! Yes, I managed to pull myself away from the Wii long enough to do something constructive. I'm not at all sure what I'm planning to construct, however.

Some Questions and Answers:

Dr. Priest indicated that math is SALT - a Science, Art, Language and Tool. Can you give examples of each?

We did, of course, just talk about this kind of thing today. So here are some examples:

A Science: According to dictionary dot com, anything which ends in "ology" is a science, and "ology" is a general term to describe the study of something. I suppose by that logic Psychology is, in fact, a science. So let's say my example for a science is psychology, the study of human behavior.

An Art: This is the vaguest category. An art would seem to be an action, preferably a useful action, which can be honed to a sharp degree and become something even more useful. Many unassuming things have been taken by a gifted individual and transformed into an art, like what artists (in a different sense) did with film in the early photography era, or like what Lance Armstrong did with winning the Tour de France.

A Language: A language is an arbitrary system of sounds or characters used for communication between humans. Math has the distinction of being a universal language, which has transcended cultures to become understandable to all. A similar thing (perhaps more similar than we know) is the language of music, which is also, to a more ancient degree, universal.

A Tool: Another broad category. If some item is used to help a human progress in his or her life, it's probably a tool. One of the base signs of sentient life is the use of tools. Even apes use rudimentary tools to do those silly things apes do. I'll give a piece of paper and a pencil as my example of a tool. Both are used in conjunction to write our ideas, or perhaps our math problems, down in a permanent (hopefully) location so we can forget it and come back later. It's a tool to augment (or weaken?) our memory.

On to the next:

Dr. Priest indicated that he believes math to be discovered, not invented or created. What did he mean by this? Being that, as indicated in the reading, a lot of mathematics is applicable to things in the physical world, what are some conclusions that we can reach following Dr. Priest's line of thought?

I remember Dr. Priest saying "I'll give God the credit" or something to that extent in conjunction with the above statement. Obviously he believes that math, like fire, is a natural force which has always been, and it only remains for a human with brains enough to use numbers to figure it out. Of course I'm only able to add small digits together before I stop paying attention, but for those of us from more of a left-brained position, math can be quite a bit more helpful than fire.

Do we place too much value on statistics?

A while ago, for another similar class, I read a book by Neil Postman titled Technopoly. It was the author's tirade on the prevalence of technology and the hold it has on the nation. Quite an interesting and eye-opening read (some of you who are taking other Honors courses may be familiar with it). One of the items he went off on was our unswerving loyalty to statistics. How many chapel speeches, essays, or docu-dramas have you seen or heard which open with some kind of shocking percentage? How many have you believed? Postman pointed out that these kind of things are a problem in that to so many people, they are the highest authority. Who can argue with numbers, facts, and bar graphs? Which brings me to my next answer...

Can we truly trust any information or theories that are based on statistics?

"Correlation, not causation." That has always been a true statement. Statistics and polls are useful, but we as discerning individuals have to be careful of becoming gluttons of information. What's really true? Where did this info come from? Who compiled it? Can we really ever have the right answer? Who knows. The bottom line is not to believe everything you hear (just like your mom told you, hopefully).

Thus, my interview is complete. But wait, there's more! I have to take a couple minutes to showcase one of the best things about the Nintendo Wii: Mii creating! In the Wii universe, there exists a system which allows one to create a tiny, cartoonish version of oneself for use with Wii Sports and, presumably, other forthcoming Nintendo games. Here is my Mii of myself:


Mmm. Cartoonish self.



That's not all, though. There is no limit to the amount of Miis which can populate your little Mii plaza, so naturally I've been making cute, balloon-headed versions of basically everyone I know.




Here's one you may recognize:







Look familiar?
















Unfortunately, "Picklesimer" didn't fit in the name box. But hey, our professor might show up on my baseball team or in the audience at my next bowling game! Hey!!

Extrapolation

I'm going to answer Dr. P's questions in the next post.

For now, I have to rejoice because I finally found one of these:


And in celebration of this joyous event (it really is quite joyous), please view this HUMOROUS VIDEO:

Press Start

I'm comandeering my own blog for the purposes of Human Situation III. In the meantime:

The Perilous Potomac!!

First entry for the new year! And a new adventure to go with it:

This weekend we had a freak change in temperature, where suddenly it was summertime and therefore a perfect day to go for a row. My dad is XTREME-ly into the whole yo-ho-ho thing, so anytime we go boating with him it means paddling, rowing, or sailing. The dory's mast is already shelved for the season so today it was time for a lively row! Yes! Since we live so close to DC, the Potomac is quite convenient, and it was there that we set out for a rowing adventure.

After stopping at our favorite breakfast place, we took a long drive to pick up my dad's old college friend Dave Kerner and headed towards the boat launch. We crossed just over into Maryland, and prepared to set off amidst the bewilderment of all the other people at the ramp (rowing is apparently not one of the nation's most common leisurely activities).



There you can see our boat attached to our unlikely car (the added trailer hitch bangs against the pavement between our driveway and the street if we don't curve a little to the left or right while backing up), accompanied by my younger brother Elliot, and then Dave Kerner next to my Dad. You can see how beautiful a day it was...Dave may have been wearing a jacket, but both he and I took off our jackets after a short time on the water. Seriously, the weather was really weird.



See, such a beautiful day. We got the boat in the water without trouble, and since we had four people with us, three got to row and one got to steer. Have you ever rowed with three people in tandem? It's quite a challenge. I took the bow-most position, farthest from the rudder, so I was pretty much constrained to row the entire time.



And if you'll look at a larger version of this picture, you can see that it's Mt. Vernon, home of George Washington! We passed by it and a few other tourist-y locales during our row in this direction, garnering plenty of looks in our direction from the touristfolk. My Dad mused that he'd like to see what we must look like from the shore.



We rowed for a long time. After passing Mt. Vernon we took a break and had some water from the scuttlebutt (silly nautical terms...) and headed back in the opposite direction. As we were moving along some uncommonly warm gusts of wind blew at our backs. I nearly lost my hat a couple of times. Eventually, after passing the manors belonging to the exquisitely rich which litter the coastline of the area, we came upon a small cove, which we pulled into and took a break. I snapped quite a few pictures of it, so here's a mini-gallery:



Click to enlarge. Here we have us pulling into the cove ("Pirate's Cove," if you will); a pile of dead trees and driftwood that the cove had accumulated; a mysterious concrete structure barred by many trees; a view of the cove; and pushing ourselves out of the cove with generous manpower. For the remainder of the trip I took the stern seat so I could steer (since I had been rowing the entire time up to that point).

We hugged the coast for a while longer and finally crossed the potomac again to reach our boat landing. The side our landing was on is notably less rich-looking than the Mt. Vernon side, but there were some odd and variously decorated houses (such as an octagonal house connected to an austere cube-building which seemed to house a large spiral staircase; the whole thing looked like a professor's house and appeared to be still under construction).

Returning to the landing we hitched the boat back up to the trailer, as a large man in overalls and a John Deere with binoculars around his neck watched us contentedly. After the boat was back on the car, my brother spotted a small abandoned building partially hidden in the foliage close to the landing. Abandoned buildings, especially those suffering from advanced necrosis, have always fascinated me, so we both went to check it out.



Left to right: the rusty chain link fence surrounding the once-house; what was left of the house; view from inside the fence; another view; standing in the doorway; a rusted metal (drainpipe?). I think two out of the four walls had already fallen in, and the surrounding forest had almost completely claimed the ruin for itself. Satisfied, we headed back to the car, but there was one more thing left to do before leaving the area. A park was nearby which had another interesting structure beckoning to us.



The road to the small park was flanked with trees, and thankfully the dirt roads were kind to our small Saturn with cargo. The park was on the grounds of a building called Marshall Hall, which had some historical significance with George Washington and blah blah blah. But this is why it was really interesting:



No roof! It wasn't in quite so far advanced a ruined state as the previous building, probably since it had more historic value, but the roof was sure gone, giving it that striking prison-camp look to it. It was also surrounded by a chain fence topped with barbed wire (garnished with signs citing "HAZARDOUS STRUCTURE"), allowing for some clever photography:



Looks like it just jumped out of a WWII story. Some more pictures of that building and surrounding area:



Left to Right: Picnic benches set upon what I felt to be a foundation of a previous building (look for my brother in this one); Marshall Hall sans barbed wire; a little grill for them frankfurters; another look at the Hall.

We were all beat at the end of the day. We were out there lollygagging, as Dave put it, for around four hours. It was fun though, and the day couldn't be more beautiful (or more disconcerting, given the month and season). So, here's to 2007! And a picture of me in the weird concrete structure in the cove:



Now to play some more Zelda.