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Saturday, September 11, 2004

Whip it good: Kyle Williams lashes out against American immaturity

I love Kyle Williams, for a whole heckuva lotta reasons. And I really love pointing others toward his work as a columnist. In this week's piece over at World Net Daily "the young master Kyle" as I like to call him sends up a brilliant piece to Americans twice his age and more and for all intents and purposes asks aloud "why are you being such idiots?!" Kyle, yer hitting on all the right cylinders here so I won't steal your thunder by discussing it any in this space... but here's a preview:
Entertainment and politics in the modern society of America has created a deadly mix and a blow to the integrity of our national debate. In this election cycle, think of the severe case of P. Diddy and his entourage crashing a Young Republicans meeting in New York City, shouting his shallow views through a megaphone and broadcasting it over MTV. Of course, all this MTV and Choose or Lose business is built on the history of the relationship between media and politics over the past 50 years. Nightly news from the Big Three can be credited with beginning this disastrous mix that some call "Infotainment."

Punch here for the rest.

Friday, September 10, 2004

And twenty-hours later still...

...it looks like Dan Rather had his ducks all lined up in a row. Tonight's edition of the CBS Evening News has apparently buried beyond any reasonable doubt the claims that the memos from their "60 Minutes" piece the other night on President Bush and his time in the Texas Air National Guard were forgeries.

Now folks, this is responsible journalism: when you have backed up and documented everything to the best of your ability. Say what you might of this story and its repercussions, but you gotta respect Rather for making sure every "i" was dotted and every "t" was crossed (and every "th" superscripted for that matter).

Meanwhile, millions of armchair font specialists across the fruited plain are wondering why the heck did they just spend the past 48 hours studying forty-year old IBM Selectric typewriters with the "golf ball" print heads. To paraphrase the wise sage William Shatner, "get away from your stupid blogs AND GET A LIFE!!"

(But at least more people have now come to realize that Microsoft Corporation did not invent the Times New Roman font).

Thursday, September 09, 2004

Wanna see a whole bunch of handmade deadly sharp implements?!



I'll be spending part of this coming weekend at the SouthEastern Custom Knife Show, sponsored by the North Carolina Custom Knifemakers Guild. This is the tenth annual event that the guild has organized and it just keeps getting better and better with each passing year (it's already become considered one of the premiere crafting events of its kind in the country). I first attended back in '98 and have been quite a few times since then. This isn't the kind of cutlery that you buy in a store, mind ya: these are handmade - either by stock-removing from "blanks" of steel or forging 'em out the old fashioned way on an anvil - by people who've dedicated a lot of time and love into a craft that can only be called a high artform. I've no idea if he'll be there this time but the past few years have seen Bill Moran as one of the guests (Moran is the dude who about thirty years ago re-discovered, after it being lost for hundreds of years, the secret for making Damascus, or multi-layered, steel) and having met him a number of times I can tell you that it's a real treat to meet a real American legend as he is. I did hear that Ed Halligan, creator of the innovative K.I.S.S. knife, would probably be there. The symposium this year will include Knife World editor Mark Zalesky and Dr. James Batson discussing the history of the Bowie knife (I've sat through one and believe me, it's a pretty colorful thing to listen to) and Buddy Thomason talking about Scagel knives (of which he is a collector and authority of). The show runs this coming Saturday and Sunday, September 11th-12th at the Benton Convention Center in Winston-Salem, North Carolina.

The lull between Frances and Ivan

Early this evening I called to check up on one of my friends in Asheville, to see if she was good after what was left of Hurricane Frances came through the state yesterday. By the time it reached this far inland much of its strength had been sapped away without anymore warm moisture from the ocean to feed upon... but there was plenty enough punch left in the system to thrash things from the mountains on east. There are some places here that saw streets completely covered and some falling debris, but that was nothing compared to what it did further west: Black Mountain had 17 inches of rain and one person said that Old Fort "looks entirely washed out." My friend in Asheville said that the French Broad River (which I had my apartment overlooking from the west side) was 17 feet above normal and had water reaching the bottom of the windows on most of the warehouses on the other bank. The Biltmore Village area is completely flooded, the same for Swannoa and she said that as of this evening much of Asheville was without power or running water. I've heard that the side of town east of Tunnel Road has been completely dark ever since yesterday. It gets worse further west: the towns of Canton and Clyde are under curfew and severe mudslides have been reported in the area.

Meanwhile, I've got family in Florida, between Palm Bay and West Palm Beach and however we've been seeing it on television, the situation sounds much worse. They didn't even know 'til the other night when we told them that there was another hurricane on the charts headed this way: Ivan is now a Category 5, and maybe the third strongest since records have been kept. It now looks poised to tear into the western side of Florida sometime later this weekend and however much Frances kicked the slats out of the place, it very well might prove to have been a prelude to a far worse catastrophe.

And yet... I must admit that there is something horribly fascinating about a hurricane. As much devastation and death as they cause, their structure and strength really does make them a miracle of nature worthy of not just our healthy respect and fear, but our awe. And they do play a much-needed role in God's design for our planet: hurricanes are the "release valve" for our oceans' accumulated heat. Were it not for the thermal energies that hurricanes absorb and then redistribute, the ocean temperatures would be considerably warmer than we know them to be. For all the curse that hurricanes have become of late, we might do well to be thankful that in the larger scheme of things, they stand in the way of our having to face a much more severe climate.

But in the meantime, I'm going to keep saying a prayer for the people of Jamaica, and Cuba, and Florida, and anywhere else that Ivan may be threatening over the next few days.

Twenty-four hours of loathing the way things are

I didn't watch last night's "60 Minutes" with Dan Rather's story about the former Texas official who supposedly pulled strings to get young George W. Bush out of serving in Vietnam. But I've followed the aftermath on and off throughout the day: enough to know that old IBM Selectric typewriters are about to become as synonymous with this presidency as paper shredders were to Reagan's, what broccoli was to Bush the First and what cigars have been to Clinton.

As everyone who's a nut for this sort of thing knows by now, the interview with Ben Barnes was a red herring for the REAL supposed bombshell: documents from the files of the late Jerry Killian, who as a colonel in the Texas Air National Guard in the early 1970s was squadron commander of Bush's unit. The memos that CBS News is said to have obtained show Killian praising Bush, then ordering him to submit to a physical examination, then suspending him for failing to follow a direct order. And then complaining that he did not like showing favoritism toward the young Bush at the behest of others. It is this final memo that has come under fire for its dubious origins.

If the documents are real, Bush should face up to it, come clean before the American people and admit that he got away with doing some things that a young man at the time from less fortunate circumstances would probably have never gotten away with, and let the people make a judgement on him. If the documents are forgeries, CBS News should own up to it and somewhere, the appropriate heads should roll. If Dan Rather himself knew about them being forgeries all along, he should admit to it on live television before an audience of millions and then - both for himself and his chosen professoin - do the honorable thing and resign from CBS News. He would at least be thankful that CBS was not owned by Japanese management that would have recommended he perform on-air seppuku.

I've let my feelings for Bush be known already: I can't vote for the guy because I don't trust him, on the basis of a lot of things. But I damned well don't want to see him - or anyone else for that matter - suffer injury in the arena of ideas when the ideas being leveraged against him have nothing but a fraudulent foundation beneath them.

I'm probably going to write more about this later, but in all honesty I would feel disgusted either way - if Bush had rigged the system so that he wouldn't have to serve in Vietnam as others were being made to, or if this whole thing was a con by a major television network - were it not for the fact that at this point I couldn't care less. I'm too exhausted by everything that's happened leading up to this election to really give a damn anymore about which one between Bush and Kerry may or may not win. I know that realistically one of them is going to win this year, but that doesn't obligate me to believe that one of them deserves it more than the other... because despite what the mobs around me demand that I buy into, neither one of them deserves to be President of the United States.

Will pour out my frustration on this subject later. I'm going to watch my DVD of "Hellboy" in the meantime.

Monday, September 06, 2004

Despite Frances, Labor Day weekend was "Dynamite"

The lovely lil' spousal overunit and I intended to drive down to her parents' place in Georgia three days ago (Friday) for Labor Day weekend. That was before we conferred that afternoon about whether we should go ahead with it after all the projections for the path of Frances showed the storm plowing through Georgia after it entered the Gulf from Florida. Lisa has never experienced a hurricane before. I've gone through plenty... enough to know that fun as they can be to ride out if you're fairly far enough inland, you do not want to drive headlong into one. Especially considering that there'd probably be a few million evacuees on the road between here and there.

So, we didn't go, and spent the weekend here, even though it looks like Frances is now going to be a day or so longer in getting to that part of Georgia. Better to have been safe than sorry though, although I do regret a few things. For one, we were going to make a stop at Williamson Bros. Bar-B-Q in Marietta - which just might be the best barbecue joint on the planet - to stock up on more of their barbecue sauce. We started this summer with six bottles of the stuff and doled out the final drop last weekend on some ribs we did on the grill, so we desperately need to replenish our supply. Not this weekend though, but Lord willing we'll get down there sometime soon and get reloaded. When we do I'll offer up a full review of the joint.

This weekend was also when the annual Dragon*Con science-fiction convention was being held in downtown Atlanta. I've been to two of them (in 2001 and 2002) and wanted to hook up with some friends at it this year, had the low-pressure system from Hell known as Frances not played havoc (have heard from lots of folks that they chose not to go 'cuz of it so we're in good company). Would have been fun to have posted some pics from Dragon*Con here, 'cuz the thing really is an amazing assault on the senses, but maybe next year.

In the meantime, we did occupy ourselves with a few things, including spending Saturday afternoon finally catching a flick that I'd heard nothing but very good things about for the past month or so...




Napoleon Dynamite is the movie that I wish had been made back when I was in high school 15 years or so ago. Yes, I admit it: I was Napoleon Dynamite, and I'm not ashamed to say it. Lots of guys were Napoleon Dynamite. Lots of girls were also Deb. And wherever or whoever they might be there was a Pedro in our life. There's plenty of things that people like me can identify with this movie about. What we didn't have then is an icon, a banner, a symbol behind to which rally behind and assert ourselves for all the world to know that yes, we ARE different from you... and that is why we succeed!

That's the best moral that I can attempt to gain from Napoleon Dynamite: to simply be yourself, no matter how quirky or offbeat or defeated the world around you considers you to be. If you were to ask me to be explicit about plot, I couldn't tell you because there really is no plot at work here. There's Napoleon and his weird family and his small circle of friends... and that's it.

Napoleon Dynamite (played by Jon Heder) lives in small-town Idaho with his grandmother and Kip (Aaron Ruell), his 32-year old brother who doesn't work and spends all day on the Internet in romance chat rooms. Oh yeah, and Tina: Granny's pet llama. Napoleon contentedly spends his life as a high school student drawing fantasy animals and making action figures do death-defying stunts from moving schoolbuses. So it is as an outsider that he finds a best friend in new student Pedro Sanchez (Efren Ramirez) who has just moved from Mexico. About the same time Granny Dynamite busts her tailbone after flying off of an ATV so while she's rejuvenating, Uncle Rico (Jon Gries) moves in and immediately takes over the joint with his hair-brained schemes involving herbal supplements and mail-order time machines.

The rest of the movie involves... well, truth be known I can't really remember what it's about, except that Napoleon and Pedro's friend Deb (Tina Marjarino) is trying to get her "glamour shots" business going from her parents' basement and Pedro winds up running for student body president. And something about Future Farmers of America, and a shotgun, and tetherball, and a big dance, and... whatever.

But for some reason, Napoleon Dynamite has been resonating with me a lot in the two days since we saw it. And, it's still making me laugh! For a movie with no real plot or point, it's by far one of the funniest that I've seen in quite awhile. I can't wait to get a copy of it on DVD and show it to friends when they come over if they haven't seen it yet. After a summer of sequels, schlock and silliness, Napoleon Dynamite wound up being a very fine and satisfying way to end this season on.

Oh yeah, if you wind up going to see it (something that I'd heartily recommend) DO NOT LEAVE when the credits begin rolling. Stick around, and wait for EVERYTHING to finish because there is an entire scene that's been added to the original cut that picks up two months after the rest of the movie. You definitely don't want to miss it.

Friday, September 03, 2004

It would be ironic if it weren't so sad...

...that just minutes after posting the last entry the news came over the wire that former President Bill Clinton is at this hour having quadruple bypass after suffering a heart attack.

Wherever you were with the guy, please say a prayer for him and his family this afternoon. Bypass surgery is nowhere as hazardous a thing to go through as it used to be but still... it's an awful serious thing to go through regardless. Here's to praying that the 42nd President of the United States has a swift and thorough recovery and that God's hand will rest upon him and his family today.

If he's supposed to be "Daddy" can someone please make me an orphan?

For me, this is all the more funny because I've a VERY good memory and I remember the night of October 15th 1992 very well. That was the night of the second presidential debate between then-President George Bush, Arkansas governor Bill Clinton and billionaire character Ross Perot (who I gladly campaigned and voted for that year... the things you do when you're eighteen and drunk with newfound voting power). It was also the night that Dad and I got back from Asheboro with a cocker spaniel puppy for my sister's birthday, but anyhoo...

This particular debate, coming from Richmond, Virginia, was a rare informal "town hall" format moderated by Carole Simpson. For ninety minutes all three candidates were hit with questions from an audience of supposedly uncommitted voters. It was a pretty good show but by far the thing that made me groan the hardest was this one guy, this long-haired guy who I'm pretty sure said he worked with kids, and he implored the three candidates to "think of us as your children."

Of the three candidates that night, one of them would have certainly told him to grow up and start his own business like any self-respecting billionaire and another would have probably agreed with what the first candidate said. Only one of them not only readily agreed with the man but alluded that government should be almost an inescapable father figure looking over us.

Guess which one of the three won the election that year?

But that was something that came from a member of the debate audience: it was NOT something that the Clinton campaign initiated on its own. And it's not like the George W. Bush campaign would say something that heavily socialist on its own, right?

Right?!?

From the September 2nd 2004 Boston Globe...

Card says president sees America as a child needing a parent

By Sarah Schweitzer, Globe Staff | September 2, 2004

NEW YORK -- White House Chief of Staff Andrew Card said yesterday that President Bush views America as a ''10-year-old child" in need of the sort of protection provided by a parent.

Card's remark, criticized later by Democrat John F. Kerry's campaign as ''condescending," came in a speech to Republican delegates from Maine and Massachusetts that was threaded with references to Bush's role as protector of the country. Republicans have sounded that theme repeatedly at the GOP convention as they discuss the Sept. 11, 2001, terrorist attacks and the war in Iraq.

''It struck me as I was speaking to people in Bangor, Maine, that this president sees America as we think about a 10-year-old child," Card said. ''I know as a parent I would sacrifice all for my children."

The comment underscored an argument put forth some by political pundits, such as MSNBC talk-show host Chris Matthews, that the Republican Party has cast itself as the ''daddy party."

A Kerry spokesman, seizing on Card's characterization of Bush as a parental figure for the nation, contended that the president had failed.

**snip**

''The Democrats who met in Boston had a wonderful party, because Boston hosted a wonderful opportunity for them to get together," said Card, a former state representative from Holbrook. ''But they tended to talk about yesterday, and our president knows that leadership is all about tomorrow."

Card, the person who informed the president nearly three years ago about the attack on the second World Trade Center tower, also sought to cast Bush as a decisive leader who chose to remain seated in a Florida classroom after hearing the news in order to avoid creating fear.

''The president accepted my words but did not introduce fear to any of those young students or through the national media to the American people," Card said. ''After an appropriate period of time, he excused himself from the classroom . . . and exercised the ultimate responsibility of a president."

He added, ''But there is no doubt about the president's commitment to make sure that he protects us no matter what the polls may say, no matter what focus groups might suggest, no matter what the UN gave permission to."

**snip**

There ya have it from Bush's press secretary: the President of the United States sees us as children. And he's the father. Exactly as Bill Clinton saw himself twelve years ago.

I'm not a drinking man but if this is the way America is supposed to be, I'll gladly toast the occassion when I become an orphan.

Thursday, September 02, 2004

Want a Gmail address invite for free?

Just noticed that my Google e-mail address has been given 6 invitations. I don't know what to do with 'em and I'm in a good mood at the moment, so if anyone reading this wants a FREE Gmail invitation, shoot a mail to theknightshift@gmail.com and the first six ones that come in will get an invite sent to them.

Doom 3 review: Once again, "the sanest place is behind a trigger"

It was a hot, sultry Tuesday evening in May of 1994 when Doom first entered my life. My good friend Johnny came by the house so we could drive together over to the nearby community college for an American history class we had one evening a week. Before we left he gave me a box that he picked up for about two bucks at the local K-Mart. “Here, try this. It’s pretty wild,” he told me.

I didn’t actually install the game ‘til about 2 the next afternoon and when I finally looked at my clock after that it was darn nearly 7:30 PM. Dad came by my room earlier, just after I’d first discovered the chainsaw: I pulled it out and ran toward a Former Human Sergeant: “watch that raw meat fly, Dad!!” He just shook his head and walked away with a wry grin, saying he’d never seen anything THAT gruesome before.

Good lord, how many nights did we lose to that game? I did four things that summer: bussed tables at a restaurant, traveled some, played TIE Fighter when it came out, and played Doom. Lots of Doom. The original shareware episode wasn’t enough: I wound up mail-ordering away for the complete game. Then I heard that people had started modifying the game, adding on levels and changing the monsters. And then it got worse

This wasn’t long after I first discovered online bulletin board systems (we didn’t have full-blown Internet yet). There was a BBS in Kansas City that was dedicated to nothing but Doom files. I racked up a forty-dollar phone call to the thing one night, downloading nothing but Doom stuff. But at least I got to transform the Baron of Hell into Barney the Dinosaur to show for it.

Doom 2 followed in October of 1994: basically the same game but with more monsters and larger maps. The hardware demands also ratcheted up a bit: my snazzy lil’ 486 SX at 25 MHZ was doing so well… until the Icon of Sin in the final level. That damned grinning goat skull spat out so many monsters out of its exposed forehead that my computer slowed down to about 10 frames per minute. When I got a faster system a few years later I was finally able to take it down (and didn’t even have to do the “turn no-clipping on so you can walk behind the wall and shoot at John Romero’s head on a stick” trick either!).

I haven’t shown it to Johnny yet but if he thought that was rough he’ll probably scream and poke his eyeballs out when he takes a gander at Doom 3 the next time he comes over. Ten years, the Quake series and countless times of being asked “is it done?” later, id Software last month finally released the follow-up that may have had only slightly less anticipation than the Second Coming.

Other than the original I never played any of the Quake games, but everyone I’ve spoken with has said that Doom 3 is the strongest effort yet that id has poured into an actual plot for one of its games. It’s not a straightforward sequel but actually a retelling of the original Doom story, but apart from a few details the story’s basically the same: a hundred and fifty years from now you play a hardened space marine that’s been assigned to duty on Mars. Specifically, at a research facility run by Union Aerospace Corporation (think of the nefarious “Company” from the Alien movies and you’ll know already where this is going). Seems that the UAC has been doing some experiments in teleportation and matter transfer, and then decided to get really ambitious. So it is that just after you arrive and have finished up some introductory levels on moving around the game, that something starts pouring out of the gateway at the mysterious Delta Labs complex and everything, literally, goes straight to Hell. From that point on its you as the space marine on a quest not only for your own survival but also to turn off the portal to Hades lest it damn not just the bad dead folks, but the good live ones too.

I upgraded my system after this past Christmas so that it could effortlessly run Star Wars Galaxies. Even so, Doom 3 is so hoggish on resources that I’m forced to run the game on medium settings. However, after “tweaking” the configuration file in the Doom 3 directory (there’s a bunch of resources online on how to do this, on sites like Doom World and Planet Doom) I got it averaging about 45 frame per second on a 2 GHZ AMD system with a 128 MB Nvidia card. Only at 600x800 resolution mind ya, but even there… the graphics are stunning. And scary.

This is quite possibly the most realistic computer game yet published. Project lead John Carmack intended from the getgo that Doom 3 would have realistic lighting and he succeeded wildly: the Doom 3 graphical engine calculates light sources and surfaces (the bulk of the processing requirements). In layman’s terms it means that everything in the game casts a shadow or reflects light, exactly as it would in the real world. Go inside the restroom during the first minutes of the game and you’ll see yourself reflected back in the mirror (return there later and you’ll see… other things… reflected back also). Walk into a blackened room later on and you’ll genuinely hesitate, wondering just what the heck could be lurking in there that you can’t see yet, if at all. The effect is enhanced by having a flashlight to illuminate darkened corners with: try not to scream when you see something jumping out at you from the edge of the cone of light that it casts.

Fortunately, that’s not all you have as you navigate the dark recesses of UAC’s Mars City. Prior to your first mission (during which Hell erupts) you are issued a pistol. But soon you complement that with real firepower: the classic shotgun. Along with the rest of Doom’s signature armaments: the chaingun, the plasma rifle, the rocket launcher, and for the first time you can throw (or drop) grenades. There is also something called the “soul cube”, but any more on that would be major spoilerage. And of course, the BFG 9000… and the legendary chainsaw, which for the first time in a Doom series you finally come to understand why it is that chainsaws have been left laying around Mars to begin with.

That bit of info, along with many others, comes to you via one of the innovations that makes Doom 3 such a treat for the single player: you are armed with a personal data assistant (PDA) that you can call up anytime in-game, to read your incoming e-mail or watch videos that you download during the game. You can also read the PDAs of other, less fortunate characters that are found laying around the corpse-strewn facility. Make sure to read all the PDAs – and listen to the audio logs on them – as you move ahead, as they not only progress the story but give you much-needed information that you’ll need later on (like locker combinations and clues on defeating the baddies).

Most of the classic Doom enemies have returned for this retelling (but not all: sorry, no Spider Mastermind this time but that never seemed very demonic to me anyway). Most of the humans in the facility have been “zombified” by the outpouring demons so don’t feel too bad about capping them full of lead… they sure won’t hesitate to do the same (or worse) to you. This time though the former humans do not look identical to each other: you really do get the impression that these are hapless individuals that got turned undead (okay, apart from those really really fat zombies walking around that look pretty much the same: however good the UAC is at colonizing planets, they suck bigtime at combating morbid obesity). They come in a bunch more flavors this time than just “Former Humans”, “Former Human Sergeants” and “Chaingun Dudes”: there’s former human civilians, scientists, maintenance workers, security guards, marines, commandos… everyone but you and a few brave souls that escaped the holocaust that you meet along the way.

And then… the rest. Remember the Imps, those brown spiky guys that threw fireballs at you? They’re back, with more eyes and a LOT faster! They’ve also brought their cousins the Wraiths with them. The “Pinky” demons have been brought back for another round, albeit bigger and nastier than before. You’ll also have to once again contend with Revenants, Lost Souls, Cacodemons and Arch-Viles (but thankfully they don’t seem to have as much “resurrection power” as they did in Doom 2) along with an entire horde of new demons (like the spidery Trites, which look a LOT like the “Norris-things” from John Carpenter’s The Thing). Possibly the most beautiful/horrifying redefinitions have got to be for the Mancubus (the big waddling fat guys with plasma launchers for hands from Doom 2) and the new take on the Cyberdemon. But so far as new bad guys go, the Cherubs take the prize for most disturbing addition to the Doom canon: think tiny little babies. With claws. And insect wings. That scream “ma-ma”. Whoever thought up these things is one disturbed sicko. I pray he seeks counseling from a good therapist somewhere.

And if you do disturb easily, you might seriously wanna consider whether you really want to play Doom 3. The guys at id included a pamphlet in the box that suggests playing the game in a darkened room with the door locked and the sound turned up (I haven’t even begun to describe the haunting work that went into the sounds for this game) and that’s exactly how I played this for the week and a half that it took me to finish the game, playing mostly at night. There are things in this game that once you see, you can’t “unsee” if you know what I mean. After awhile it begins to SERIOUSLY play games with your head: strange lights in a dark corner that disappear when you get closer, things that move for no reason, things thrown at you but no assailant visible, and a disquieting woman’s voice enticing you to come “over here” before telling you that “they took my baby” (there’s more, but I don’t wanna think about it right now).

All of this makes for what is easily the most engaging, involving game experience that I’ve ever known for a single player. If there’s anything more that I wish it could have, it would be that most of the levels could have been larger, longer, and seeming not quite so “linear” in gameplay: one of the original Doom’s charms was just running around finding secrets or working your way through any sorts of puzzles that blocked your path. Those are still here also, but not nearly as hard to figure your way through (which, when you have demons on your tail makes the time that much more nerve-wracking… and fun). Most of the rooms seemed too “confined” also, and not as open as the original Doom games had them.

But the good news is that as with the originals, id Software has embraced the open-ended architecture that has made the Doom series so legendary (“Doom will never die, only the players,” as one of its programmers put it years ago) but to a far greater degree. Doom 3 comes complete with a built-in editor that’s accessible through its command console (hit CTRL plus ALT and ~ to bring it up) and already there are several user-written editors on the way. id is also set to soon release – for free – its Doom 3 developer’s toolkit, including the devised-but-not-used player-driven vehicle. And already there are numerous player-driven projects involving Doom 3 in the works, including at least two sequels (both called “Hell on Earth” by the way) and a reworking of the original Doom using the Doom 3 engine. Whatever faults the game may have, they will no doubt be soon eradicated by an army of dedicated Doomers.

Who knows: maybe someone among the new generation of Doom designers will create an updated version of Barney the Dinosaur for me to slaughter with my chainsaw again.

Zell Miller's speech last night

I've spent roughly the same amount of time watching the Republican National Convention as I did watching the Democrat National Convention a few weeks earlier: meaning, none at all. Nor have I really kept up with any coverage about it, except that the Bush twins told some really bad jokes and Ah-nuldt stopped short of bringing Dana Carvey back for a "Saturday Nite Live" sketch.

But a little while ago I read Zell Miller's speech from last night and, though I've yet to be convinced that Bush should be trusted again with the Oval Office, it must be said that Miller is by far one of the most passionately effective speakers of our day. He should get bigtime props for last night's speech no matter where ya are on the political spectrum (even from those of us off of it).

Zell Miller is pure Georgia boy. I first heard about him when he spoke at the Democrat National Convention in 1992 but don't think I really understood his charm until I began driving over to Georgia on a regular basis to date the girl who later on became my wife. Every now and then Zell Miller would come into conversation between someone down there and myself and it made a real impression on me how beloved a figure he is. I've now come to understand why that is.

Agree with him on some things or not, Miller is still one of the scarce few statesmen in this country who sincerely means what he says and has enough confidence to let the chips fall where they may. Whatever he believes in, he's not a pretender about it. It's a shame that most other politicians/statesmen/whatever don't feel compelled to follow his example, or that of Ron Paul or Tom Tancredo or a few others that are in high office today.

Wednesday, September 01, 2004

Playing around with photos...

A friend told me the other day that Blogger now has a photo hosting thingy that you can upload pics with through an instant messenger client. So I thought I might give it a shot and post something with a bit more lively color to this otherwise dreary dull blog...

It's me and "Weird Al" Yankovic from August 2003, after a concert that he gave at Carowinds.

On leadership and humility and history

My first article for The Washington Dispatch was posted on that site a little while ago. Titled "George W. Bush and History", it examines the flawed perspective that the man is taking in regards to his place in history: not exactly a throwaway thing when we're dealing with the President of the United States, after all. Anyway, I've long believed that the greatest leaders were those with the most humbleness and didn't try to make more of their lives than what God has given them already. They're the ones who don't try to frame the world in reference to themselves, because they understand that they are just one small part of it, and not the whole.

Too bad that the modern American celebritocracy tolerates nobody but those who really do believe that the world revolves around themselves.

Saturday, August 28, 2004

Hanging it up, clearing the boards, looking to the horizon...

My last blog was dated June 2, 2004. In the almost three months that have transpired since then, I have...

- Attended a concert where Howard Shore conducted most of the score from "The Lord Of The Rings" movie trilogy.

- Stood on the corner of Constitution and 15th in Washington D.C. to watch President Reagan's procession to the Capitol, and then waited in line for seven hours throughout the following night to visit the Rotunda, witnessing one of the last changes of the guard that took place during the public viewing there.

- Earned two technical certifications in website design and management.

- Given myself a thorough self-education in how to use Adobe Premiere Pro and After Effects.

- Started teaching myself Macromedia Flash.

- Spent three days shooting footage for my upcoming short film "Forcery" and several more preparing it for the final product.

- Began learning how to play the guitar.

- Began what I hope will become a successful small business.

- Played and beaten Doom 3 on the "Marine" setting.

- Started getting more serious about my personal times of devotion in prayer and Bible study.

- Finally earned the rank of Master Artisan with my character on Star Wars Galaxies.

- Leg-pressed 500 pounds.

- Started writing another screenplay, and finally was able to begin work on an original idea for a novel.

- Attended a Catholic church service for the first time in my life.

- Laughed a lot. Cried a lot. Thought a lot.

This summer is going to end with me having, I like to think anyway, quite a bit more enlightenment on the way things are than I did when it began. To put it tersely: I've a lot of things to do in this life, and not a lot of time to waste.

On January 22, 1999 I first began posting online, first at FreeRepublic.com and then two years ago at LiberyPost.org, as "Darth Sidious". I took the screenname from the villain of the first Star Wars prequel, still four months away at the time. Not because I'm a BAD guy per se, but because I liked the character and because I've been a Star Wars nut for almost my entire life.

Back then I really believed that online political discussion forums were going to be the seed from which a new renaissance of American liberty and responsibility would blossom from. I now feel utterly foolish and ashamed that it took the present set of circumstances, as despicable and nasty as they have become, to finally convince me beyond any reasonable doubt that... I was very, very wrong about that.

The modern American political mindset demands that we buy into the paradigm that there are two and only two valid camps: the Democrats and the Republicans. One has to choose between one or the other to be considered a full citizen, according to conventional wisdom. That's how I used to see it too, before I first began getting shaken from that mental stranglehold four years ago.

Modern American politics is two cages full of rabid insane monkeys throwing excrement at each other and either one claiming superiority for it. I'm a thirty-year old guy, and I do not want to waste my life or what reputation I have by watching monkeys throw excrement at each other... much less associating with them.

Bush has done some very evil things with the responsibilities he was trusted with. I've no doubt that Kerry is going to do some evil things also if/when he is elected President. Maybe I'm being too old-fashioned and disaffected by things, but the lesser of two evils... is still evil. Electing a man to office knowing fully well that he's going to lack principles, humility and character and yet believing that he's going to do some good... is insanity. And no matter how loud the monkeys scream that they're holding diamonds... that's still shit in their filthy paws.

So tonight, because it's time to move on to bigger and better things, and because I've come to realize how futile and meaningless an exercise it is to spend my time and energy arguing ideas to the best of my understanding to people who seldom desire either ideas or understanding, I'm retiring from posting as "Darth Sidious" to political discussion sites. It was a fun ride, for the most part. I met a lot of good people and made a LOT of new - and now lifelong - friends. It did lead to some very neat things in my life. But whatever vitality they once had is gone now, and I'm going to seek out greener pastures elsewhere. The passion and energies I used to pour into that can be MUCH better spent in writing to this blog, or anything else creative that I bend my mind toward. In the end, I'll be a much better person for it, without all the grief of suffering the inane babblings that passes for "intelligent discourse" from the idiots among the BushBots or the KerryKadre.

Darth Sidious: January 22 1999 ~ August 28, 2004

It was fun. Now, let's see what else is out there...

Wednesday, June 02, 2004

Staying busy is a good thing... right?

Whew... why is it every time I get started on "blogging" again that this pesky thing called life rears its ugly head and throws a kink in my plans? Ahhh well... at least it's not the usual BAD stuff, right?

So I've been studying up bigtime to take the exam for Microsoft CIW certification (45 needed out of 60), take that tomorrow. Hope it goes better than a month ago when Dad and I drove out to Nashville so I could try out for Jeopardy! Am pretty sure I missed passing that exam by two questions and I'll be the first to admit that I know nothing about obscure 17th century Italian opera!

We also finally finally FINALLY started principle photography on my film "Forcery". The idea came in early September 2001 (a little over a week before 9/11) after a crazy incident at Dragon*Con in Atlanta that a parody of Stephen King's "Misery" except with George Lucas would be hilarious! So, seven script drafts, six casting changes, approximately 20 props found on eBay, a "production re-alignmment" and untold headaches later, we're making it at last. Go to the official site above for some still photos of the day we shot the Skywalker Ranch scenes.

Speaking of Star Wars, I'd wanted it for Christmas but Santa must have forgot, but a week or so ago I finally got Star Wars: Knights Of The Old Republic for computer. It's not only the most beautiful Star Wars game I've ever seen, it's by far one of the most immersive role-playing games for computer that I've seen also. When it comes to my idle hours it's become the one thing that's detracted from my interest in Star Wars Galaxies.

My blog entry "People Who Should Be Shot When The Revolution Comes" from April got around. Quite a bit, actually. Don't worry I haven't been visited by police or Secret Service (yet anyway) but it does seem to have struck a chord with a bunch of people. I might write a sequel later, 'cuz some other people worthy of wrath at the appointed time have come to mind (but bear in mind it was a parody to begin with, and will be a parody again).

Okay, that's enough for this time. Me go eat now.

Thursday, April 29, 2004

Tears for Maggi

This was a very good day.... until I received some news that hit me in the chest like a sledgehammer. Can't really reiterate afresh what I wrote earlier tonight to Liberty Post so with that as the context, here's to you Maggi...


LP forumer 6bg posted this afternoon that Maggi had died and... just couldn't believe it. After getting confirmation I lay on my bed and buried my face into the pillow, crying my eyes out for at least half an hour this afternoon.

She died toward the end of February but today was the first I'd seen it announced anywhere. Longtime Freepers (and those of us still Freepers at heart from the old days) will remember Maggi, better known by her screenname MouthOfSouth. I imagine any one of us would have something about the impression she left on a lot of people during her life both online and off.

She was a fierce advocate of property rights, especially of farmers and ranchers: not long before we'd first met she had just come from the Darby pro-farmers rally in Ohio. This was also the lady who, armed with a camera and telephoto lens, on most weekends did surveillance on the federal agents in Andrews NC who were searching for Eric Rudolph: she may not have approved of what Rudolph did, but she couldn't trust some of the antics of the feds out there either.

Maggi was not a partisan. She simply believed in what the Constitution stood for. Democrat and Republican alike were subject to her wrath if they deviated from its precepts. That was made obvious by her online presence: Maggi's acerbic wit and wisdom was certainly unique in a forum that, at the time anyway, prided itself on having unique individuals. Her knowledge of pop culture was profound, but that merely sheathed a style of prose that cut through all hypocrisy and nonsense. Nothing fazed this lady.

Some of us remember the sound of her voice, from when FR had FireTalk going on. If you heard her voice, whatever you imagined her to be like in real life, that was her. I'll never forget the first time we met and immediately being infected by her charisma. She was one of the darned few ladies you'll ever meet who'd mastered the fine art of curmudgeonry: I imagine that right now in Heaven she's giving Ambrose Bierce a thing or two about real human nature.

But I'll always remember Maggi as the person who, for whatever reason, saw some potential in a kid who was going through some messed-up times and enticed him to come to Asheville, where he could write and learn a few things about what life is really all about. I rented a small apartment from Maggi and her sister during the year and a half that I was there. My perspective on that wild little town and its people could not have been so greatly appreciated, were it not for the insight of those two sisters. What makes it particularly sad is that, in her own way, Maggi played a critical role in the life plan that God set for me: living in Asheville put me close to the girl I'd started talking to from a Christian website. It wasn't long after moving there that Lisa and I met. A little over a year later in that apartment I asked her to be my wife. Maggi and her sister were in on the whole plot and even helped me out a bit. I'm very thankful that such a moment of my life got to include them... that's something Lisa and I will take with us for the rest of our lives.

I spoke with Maggi's sister on the phone this afternoon. There will be a service next month when Maggi's ashes will be interred in the family plot. Her sister said that it was cancer, but that the last two years of Maggi's life were some of the happiest she ever had. I know some of what happened in that time and, trust me she was really blessed with the time God had left for her. And, it should be said that she went down in true Maggi style: fighting to the last.

Anyway, thought it should be made known to her friends both here and on FR that a great person from our own, and a dear friend, has passed away. I'm not much for words regarding something like this, but I hope that mine in this circumstance did some honor to all the good that Maggi did for me and a lot of other people. She will definitely be missed.

Tuesday, April 27, 2004

A Republican no more

At the senior picnic a week before we graduated high school in 1992 a history teacher remarked to our principal that "Chris is a real conservative whether he realizes that or not." It came during a lil' discussion we'd been having about what might happen with that year's presidential election since Ross Perot was developing into a strong challenger to the two major parties.

"Conservative?" I wondered: "I don't even know what that really means... am I one?"

I registered to vote the day after my eighteenth birthday, and have gone to the polls in every major elections since. That I've made that effort to be far from an apathetic citizen is something I'm very proud of: the freedoms we enjoy in this country were bought at too high a price, and we take them for granted at our peril. That doesn't mean we MUST vote in every single race on the ballot, because the sad fact of the matter is that none of the candidates in many races don't deserve our vote. But I'm a firm believer that it's incumbent to the responsibility that God gave us as stewards of our liberties that we do vigorously exercise our franchise, and choose either for a candidate or against all of them on the ballot.

That last part has taken me the better part of the time since first registering to really understand. When I first started voting as a younger buck I registered as a Democrat only because my entire family had been Democrats, as if that really mattered and despite the fact that we've generally been more conservative than Jesse Helms on a lot of things. Almost soon after registering I began seeing how corrupt the Democrat party really was and began feeling guilty for being associated with them. So in what I like to think was an act of youthful rebellion against "the way things are" I joined Ross Perot's campaign in 1992 and gave it my best effort to see Perot win that year. I even had a "Ross for Boss in '92" button made that I proudly wore around our college campus. He lost, of course, and the Democrats took the White House, but a seed had been planted in my independent streak.

It began blooming during the next two years as I watched the Clintons made a mockery out of everything the office of President of the United States is supposed to stand for. They were the ones who first made me consider what liberalism really means, and how its root "liberty" is the furthest extreme possible from that mindset. Even as an 18-year old I didn't like the idea of OUR money that we entrust (though almost at the point of a gun) with the government being spent on things like obscene art and pork-barrel giveaways and something as laughable as the United Nations. I came to realize what the Clintons, and what Jesse Jackson and Ted Kennedy and Carol-Moseley Braun really wanted: as much power over every American as they could get away with. Conversely, simultaneous with my realization was my conversion into a "Ditto-head" ensuing my discovery of Rush Limbaugh's television show and then his radio broadcast. A year after Mrs. McCollum had called me a "conservative", I had comfortably and enthusiastically made that the overall definition of my ideas and philosophies and that to be a conservative was to embrace the freedom to be as much as God and our own talents would allow us to be.

But I was still registered as a Democrat. And still watching in disgust as President Clinton played his games with the budget while turning the United States military into a glorified "Meals on Wheels" program. And conniving to keep as many people fooled about his personal character as possible. It was my sister who made me do the obvious thing: the afternoon after she'd had her own conversion she dragged me to the Board of Elections where I declared never again would I be affiliated with the Democrats as long as they were this corrupt, and swore my life, my fortune and my sacred honor to the service of the Republican party. That was October 1994.

In the ten years since I've stood by the Republican party, rejoicing at what we thought was conservative victory that year and hoping that Clinton's style of "leadership" would be given the boot in 1996: my roomie and I even hung a giant "Dole for President" sign in our window overlooking the street weeks before the election. I was so sure that the Republicans would be vindicated for their adherence to conservatism, that if they held to their principles then this country really would turn around for the better.

I was wrong. And I'm tired of holding onto, in the least bit, the illusion that the Republicans demand that I buy into.

The Republican party is so infested with liberal motivations that it's ceased to be a vehicle for conservative ideas and methods. For sake of "winning elections" I've watched the GOP prostitute itself so many times to appease the lowest common denominator, that it doesn't stand for anything of principle anymore. If I were to keep believing that choosing to be a Republican makes a better difference than being a Democrat, I would be allowing myself to be enslaved to a lie. And I'm too damned free to be a slave to anyone or anything.

George W. Bush is a far worse President than Bill Clinton ever was. And a bigger liberal than Clinton was either. The only thing I can see of virtue in his administration is that at least Bush shies away from young interns and maybe keeps the Oval Office sink cleaner than did his predecessor. Government spending on Bush's watch has skyrocketed to levels that the Clinton term never approached. Expenditure will soon outstrip government's means of financing it barring - guess what? - a tax increase. Bush does not believe in maintaining and protecting our nation's sovereignty: it cannot possibly be claimed that one does that while also encouraging our nation's borders to be as leaky as a rusty sieve. He's abusing the use of our military forces in ways that make Clinton's antics in Haiti and Somalia look almost honorable. And yet, to be considered a "good conservative" Republicans are expected to turn a blind eye to these and other things that fully contradict what principled conservatism stands for.

The PATRIOT Act is the worst possible piece of legislation that ever came out of Washington D.C. The Republicans who voted for it - ALL of them who did because no one admitted to having actually read the abominable thing - have demonstrated that in their zeal to follow their Republican President, they have no compunctions against violating the Bill of Rights and the rest of the Constitution.

The common man has as much hope of serving his countrymen in elected office via the Republican party as he does through the Democrats... in other words, none at all. Ideas and principles don't qualify you to be a Republican candidate anymore: they're now considered a liability to the cause. Republicans want their candidates to be either rich, or famous, or ideally both. A GOP candidate must be "approved" by the party's leadership as being faithful enough to their aims, which aren't necessarily what is in the best interest of the people you want to serve: they run counter to it more often than not. Both major parties have succeeded in bringing back the "smoke-filled room" but the Republicans are much worse than their Democrat antagonists: if you dare suggest opposition to the party's anointed, you'll be deemed a ratfink and you may as well kiss your desire to serve - however sincere they are - goodbye forever.

That's what I've wanted to do ever since I was a teenager: offer myself as a candidate for elected office. Maybe even the U.S. House of Representatives someday. Get elected and serve one term, maybe two, then come home and let someone else take a crack at it. Life's too short to make a career out of something like that while denying yourself all the other experiences that come with this world. That, and staying entrenched in office for longer than a few terms tends to dull your senses as to how to respect others as their servant: you soon begin to represent yourself, not them. Neither one of the two major parties want that in someone they sponsor. They want individuals who will surrender their individuality as part of a long-term investment for the party's power: an incumbent Republican is a lot harder to lose from an election than a first-time candidate is, after all.

My conscience has felt dirty, for these reasons and many more, during the past few years since I began seeing for the first time that to be a loyal Republican is to possess as corrupted a soul as any loyal Democrat has. It would be an exercise in futility to try to run on the Republican slate as a principled conservative... so what reason do I have in staying with the Republicans, at all? I realize now that the GOP abandoned conservatism a long time ago, and there's no reason for me to stick around any longer either. But I never left the Republican party... it left me.

This morning I went to renew my drivers license, which also allowed me to change my voter registration. When the nice lady asked for my affiliation I blurted out, without a second thought, "independent". I told her that I was once a Democrat before switching to Republican, and I was now sick to death of both of them. "A lot of people are," she told me.

So here I am, enjoying the first few hours of my political freedom, for the first time in my life. I owe no party any loyalty, and none can now claim me as a thrall of their own. All it took was a little thought and a negligible amount of breath to simply say "no" to them.

But then, that's all it takes for anyone to be free from anything.