There's a new Levi's commercial out there. It's a "get out there and vote, already," montage over Aretha Franklin's "Think". Yes, there's a Levi's logo in the last frame, but other than that, it's all about voting. I've seen it twice now, and it just rips my heart out.
The other day, someone on one my various boards posted one of those, "You are beautiful, believe it!" memes, and I responded by saying that I was aspiring to ugliness, and failing at it. The original poster responded with a more sincere and personal iteration of the original sentiment, and I thanked her, and explained that she had misunderstood me, that ugliness was not, strictly speaking, a negative thing, and that someday, when I had time, I would tell the story that explained what I meant.
Of course, there is more than ONE story...
Let's begin with John Wayne, who told the story of an epitaph that he encountered in a Mexican cemetery: "Feo, Fuerte, y Formal." Wayne expressed admiration for that, and then translated: "He was ugly, he was strong, he had dignity." I think that is a pretty wonderful epitaph, actually.
I guess that charismatic ugliness is mostly a male thing; Jack Palance had it in spades, as do Danny Trejo and Vinnie Jones. It's about having a face that looks like it has caught far more than its share of punches, and that its owner will happily feed you your own arm if you try to add one more.
These days, I am old and fat and nondescript, and my days of aspiration to "beautiful" are decades behind me (and at my best, I was never very close). And quite honestly, I would just as soon be charismatically ugly, though I'm not very close to that, either. There have been times, though...
Once upon a time, I spent three months in Oklahoma City, learning that dyslexia and air traffic control didn't mix well. One night my classmates dragged me to a dance club, and at some point I had a short conversation with the bouncer at the door. While I was standing there, a Sweet Young Thing came in and looked at the two of us in confusion. After a moment, she reached a decision, and showed her hand stamp to ME. I pointed to the bouncer, who waved her through. I said, "You just got out-uglied."
The bouncer looked me up and down, shrugged, smiled, and said, "I can live with that."
And so can I.
This year at the "Viking". It was just a BIT colder (We were there on October 19 last year). Shown are nephew Jake and adopted niece Grace, along with Docent Sam (on the left), and the Docent in the Red Cloak (whose name I did not catch at the time, but have since been informed is named Andrew Woods). Note that both docents are armed with axes. They take their security seriously. (No image here, but the names are worth remembering.)
So, after 2 years of pretending to be furniture, Schrodinger the 3D printer is (or at least was) up and running, as evidenced by the very clean "Benchy" print below. Many thanks to Jake Haynie for technical expertise, and Grace Maloney for moral support. (Again, no image.)
Watching the most recent new Doctor Who, and they have introduced a whole new stream of technobabble. This is not a good sign in show that is more than ten years old (to say nothing of the decades before that).
Over-the-top ad copy:
"Imagine that Douglas Adams and Terry Pratchett wrote a book that consisted of a series of telephone conversations between a unicorn and a dragon."
So last night's "Legends of Tomorrow" featured a unicorn that was a monster. I feel so vindicated.
From a meme: In 1998, we were told to never get into a car with a stranger. In 2008, we were told to never meet someone from the internet alone. In 2018, we use UBER to find a stranger with a car to come and get us.
The neighborhood comic shop is going out of business, and deliveries have been even more irregular than usual, so I just read the first issue of "United States vs Murder, Incorporated" yesterday. The main character is a girl named "Jagger" who is referred to ONCE as, "Ms Rose." That has been rattling around in my head for about 24 hours.
It's a "Grendel" shout out. Bendis is a Matt Wagner fan.
This makes me stupidly happy...
From the "Evil Can Be Fun" file:
I've had to modify one of my more reprehensible practices, lately. As a fledgling writer who is still kicking his reluctant first child into the daylight, one of the things I have taken to doing to encourage myself is following Facebook ads and checking up on the competition. The ads are usually over the top, and the prose is almost, though not quite, always execreble. This causes one of my cranial denizens to say something along the lines of, "Well, THAT one's not fit to shine your shoes," and I come away feeling like an accomplished writer, albeit a miserable excuse for a human being.
The problem is, I have recently learned that Facebook ads are "pay for click", which means every time I play this game, I cost my hapless fellow writer actual money. Since I am not nearly a miserable enough excuse for a human being to continue playing on that basis, I have to either not play, or write down the title and author's name, and then do a search on Amazon. The extra time and effort cuts down on the already dubious emotional value of the game. Such is life.
Arguing for short-term pain in pursuit of long-term gain is probably a waste of your time when the other person is a Righteous Suicide advocate...
There follows the last paragraph of Greg Stafford's obituary. It's pretty much perfect.
"To honor Greg’s memory the family requests, in lieu of flowers, that you strike up a conversation with someone you don’t know, go somewhere you haven’t been, face a personal challenge head on, read about something new, and enjoy life. We are all us."
The other day I made an offhand reference to "They fight crime!". Dementia didn't know what I was talking about. I told her to Google it. There followed several minutes of dramatic readings, interspersed with hysterical giggling. Some cracks in the fabric of reality just need to be experienced firsthand.