To Avoid Repeated Doctor Internet Sharing.

If you're in North America and you were pleased to be able to watch The Impossible Astronaut, the premier episode of the new season of Doctor Who, on the same date as its British debut this weekend, do you know who you should thank?

Me.

Yes, me. And thousands of other people like me, people who were unimpressed by the artificial gap between the BBC broadcasts of Doctor Who episodes and their arrival on this side of the Atlantic.  Admittedly, downloading bootleg copies of the episodes might not be the best response to the situation, but where letter writing campaigns had no effect, spikes in online piracy following the broadcast of each of last year's episodes caught the attention of the show's producers.

That's the specific reason cited by the BBC for the changed schedule this year - illegal file sharing - and apparently this simple solution actually works. The 2010 Doctor Who Christmas special was broadcast in North America on Christmas Day, the same as in Great Britain, and the result was a 10% increase in viewership.  Presumably this percentage was at least partially made up of impatient North American fans who for once didn't have to chose between waiting a few weeks or downloading an unlicensed copy. 

So - you're welcome.

- Sid

P.S. I would be remiss were I not to mention the untimely departure of Elisabeth Sladen, who passed away last week at the age of 63 due to cancer. Elisabeth Sladen played the role of Sarah Jane Smith, who was a companion to both the third and fourth Doctors from 1973 to 1976.  Following her departure from the show, she went into semi-retirement, but returned for Doctor Who specials in 1981 and 1983, as well as voicing Sarah Jane in several BBC Radio productions of Doctor Who stories.

Sladen's 2006 appearance in School Reunion with David Tennant signalled her full time return to the universe of the Doctor, with the popularity of that episode resulting in a spinoff series called The Sarah Jane Adventures. The show, aimed at a more youthful audience than Doctor Who, proved to be a remarkable success and had been approved for a fifth season at the time of Sladen's death.

I think that her appearance in School Reunion provided one of the best and most poignant insights into the realities of being a companion to the Doctor.  At one point in the episode, the Doctor says:

You can spend the rest of your life with me. But I can't spend the rest of mine with you. I have to live on, alone. That's the curse of the Timelords. 

In reality, it's more of a curse for the companions like Sarah Jane, who is both saddened and angered by her reunion with the Doctor, and her meeting with a younger companion who is a reminder of her own lost youth.  For her, an entire lifetime has gone by, abandoned and all but forgotten by the Doctor, but unable to forget her experiences at his side or to stop waiting for him to return.

At the end of the episode, offered the opportunity to travel in the TARDIS again, she refuses in favour of finally leading her own life, and demands that the Doctor say the goodbye that had gone unspoken at their last parting, a final goodbye which we all say now.

Goodbye, my Sarah Jane...

Up, up and away.

Works of art are received and valued on different planes. Two polar types stand out; with one, the accent is on the cult value; with the other, on the exhibition value of the work. Artistic production begins with ceremonial objects destined to serve in a cult. One may assume that what mattered was their existence, not their being on view.

Walter Benjamin, The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction

In the process of producing this blog, I often end up struggling to find just the right image to illustrate a posting. This is not always an easy process - due to the nature of the Internet, you'll have better luck finding a picture of Britney Spears with her head shaved than a good scan of the cover of Weird Tales from October 1936.*

As part of this search, I recently stumbled across an unexpected treasure trove:  an auction site called Heritage Auctions which specializes in "collectibles" - art, antiques, books, coins, comics, and so on.  As part of their catalogue, they post beautiful high resolution images of all sorts of interesting things such as comics, pulp magazines, and vintage movie posters.

I'm on their mailing list now, and as a result I receive promotional e-mails for upcoming material up for auction.  Recently I received one of these e-mails that, among other things, had an ad for Issue One of The Uncanny X-Men from 1963:  current bid, $8,000.  Original cover price?  Twelve cents.

This isn't an astonishing price compared to the comic collecting market in general.  After all, a "Very Fine" condition copy of Action Comics #1 from 1938, featuring the first appearance of Superman, sold privately for 1.5 million dollars a few years back.**

But unlike the legendary first issue of Action, I remember reading that first issue of the X-Men, although not at the age of two when it first came out.  I suspect that someone gave me a box of old comics at some point in my childhood, which must have included a battered copy showcasing the first appearance of Professor Xavier's mutated students.  Imagine that, at one point I owned a comic that's now worth at least eight grand.

Or is it?

Comic book collecting is quite probably one of the most grossly and artificially manipulated marketplaces in the history of mankind, with the possible exception of the great Dutch Tulip Boom of the 1630s***.  The comics collecting market peaked in the late 1980's, when it seemed that the only reason that comics were being published was so that they could be put in acid-neutral polybags and hidden away for future resale. Every second issue had some point of added value for collectors:  alternate covers, embossing, glow-in-the-dark inks, foil, and the ultimate triumph of collector's fever over original purpose, the pre-bagged comic.  Yes, it was possible to buy a comic book that was sealed into an archival bag, thereby preserving it in its original state from the printing press - provided you never actually wanted to read the damn thing.

I suppose you could make some kind of a case for the value of these first issues, some combination of rarity, artist's reputation, perhaps even historical value, but honestly, I have to side with the opening quote from Walter Benjamin at this point: it's cult value. The comics in question have become the equivalent of objects of worship, like religious ikons or fetishes, imbued with an importance and power far in excess of their actual worth.  And as such, they are hidden away from the eyes of the world, albeit in custom cardboard boxes rather than temple altars, but the analogy is still appropriate.  It's an odd coincidence that Benjamin's article was also published in 1938, along with Superman's first meeting with the world.

I stopped buying comics in the early 90s, and apparently so did everyone else.  Marvel Comics declared bankruptcy, and most of the smaller publishers went under completely.  The scale of the industry today is probably one-tenth of what it used to be 25 years ago, and the comic book collecting bubble popped, although based on the auction prices at Heritage, it obviously hasn't completely deflated.

But, if anyone is looking to make back the cost of developing a time machine, here's the the perfect opportunity.  Forget all that nonsense about visiting Shakespeare and so on - just find an American dime from the 30's, zoom back to 1938, find a newstand, and buy a copy of Action Comics #1.  Pretty good return on investment if you come back to the present and sell it for 1.5 million dollars.  But please, don't buy two copies:  flooding the market would just bring the price down.

- Sid

* I actually have a scan of the entire issue if anyone's interested - you just have to know where to look for these things.

** To Nicholas Cage, I believe, I gather Nick is a big fan and has tried several times to get the part of Superman in the various movie versions.  Sad that he had to settle for Ghost Rider.

*** No, really, there was a tulip bubble in the 17th century.  Look it up if you don't believe me.

House of a Hundred Dragons

(Contributed by Colin Campbell)

Well, that title may be a bit misleading. Actually maybe it should be called something like Basement of 100 Dragons, except it doesn't really sound all that great. How about the Dungeon of Dragons? Hmmm... That sounds a bit too familiar, I might have to get permission to use that from someone. Better not go in that direction. I often think of where I live as the Electric Cave. I picked that up somewhere in my reading. So what about the Electric Cave of Dragons? That sounds a bit too, ah, contrived or something. I looked it up on-line as well and there's quite a few references to Electric Cave and so that idea might have to be kiboshed as well. Now, a plethora is nice, but sounds a bit too snooty. Repository of Reptiles? Hmmm... no I don't think so.

Okay, let's just leave it as 'House of a Hundred Dragons or we'll get precisely nowhere. Now what's next? How 'bout a spiffy quote?

A collection is something that you don't realize you have until someone gives you the third one as a gift.

-me.

I suppose that will work.

I happened to buy my first two dragons many years ago, on the last day of the CNE (that stands for the Canadian National Exhibition for those not in the know) at one of the displays in the Arts and Crafts Building on the Exhibition grounds. They were on sale - discount dragons, as it were. And from that start a collection has grown.

So there's a hundred dragons in my living space. Well I say 100 dragons, and there are, but there are really more than that if you include all the dragon paraphernalia and oddments. So I have not only the standing dragons, but also pictures, post cards, books, a tattoo (yes I have a dragon tattoo as well, I carry it with me at all times), wine glasses, a tea set with cups and a tray, a cookie jar of all things, knife, sword cane, another wooden cane, incense burners, puzzles, et al. Many of these things have been sent or given to me over the years. And, yes, I bought a bunch of them, too.

My first two dragons

There are big dragons (big in the figurine world anyway), some a foot or so in height (or length), although I do have one wall mask that's just short of two feet; and I have many small dragons. The smallest, and not a pendant or anything (and yes I have a couple of those too), is only an inch or so big. (Those interested in metric conversions will have to do the math themselves). I even had a glass dragon made specifically for me by my sister-in-law Linda. Thank you so much.

Dragon wall  mask

They sit patiently on shelves, they adorn the walls, they peek out from on top of the fireplace, they amass on my chest of drawers, and they have even invaded the bathroom. They are of many colours and from many cultures; they appear fierce, cunning, proud, sensuous, powerful, and many fire the imagination ...and above all else they are wondrous and terrifying creatures to behold.

Dragon wall skull

Dragon battle

And how have I managed to get to reach the magic 100 dragons? Well, time helped. As you can tell I've been collecting off and on for years, but I was actually far short of having a hundred. I would like to also say that I haven't really been looking to add to the collection for the last couple of years and so I wasn't really looking. Well, kind of.

Water dragon

Dragon mirror

Carved wooden dragons

This latest frenzy of dragon acquisition had actually started with a recurrent thought. I had often thought that it would be nice to have for my 'collection' a scaled down model of one of those dragon costumes that you see in Chinese celebrations, the ones that have all the guys underneath, snaking their way through the crowds at festivals, accompanied with horns and fireworks. Very neat that. I actually thought it would be cool to have a full sized version of the costume but I haven't got the space or the financial resources to afford to buy one. My 'scaled down' idea first came to me many years ago, but I never saw a smaller version of the costume. Until recently.

Metal shelf dragon

I work as a bus driver in Richmond Hill, just north of Toronto. It has a very high Asian population. I mean that there are many people who live there who are of Asian descent, not that great numbers of them are in a drug-induced perceptually disorientated state of awareness, at least as far as I know. On this particular evening I had parked the bus in the large parking lot of a mall (it's okay, we're allowed to park there) and had gone across the road and into a large Chinese grocery store, The GooDY Mart, looking for rice bread (there's a story there too but this isn't the place for it) while I was on a short break. I didn't find anything remotely like I wanted in the baked goods section, but on one of the lighting fixtures over an open refrigeration unit I saw a golden dragon hanging, it was a dragon marionette.

Dragon marionette

I don't think I ever told you that I have a thing for marionettes as well. I even built one out of bits of flotsam and jetsam that I collected in the whirlpool below Niagara Falls. No foolin'. His name is Cyrino. I even have a Balinese shadow puppet, but that's another other different story. Sorry, I'm wandering again.

As I said, I couldn't hang around in the store for very long, I had to leave and head for the bus shelter at the corner of the major intersection where I was going to do a break relief for another driver (take over his bus while he had a chance to grab some lunch and relax for a half hour or so while I did part of his route). Oh, did I mention that this was just past Chinese New Year in February of this year (2011)? I don't know what the Chinese date for the year might be. I do know that it's the Year of the Golden Rabbit. So I saw a dragon marionette, actually several, used as store displays. I couldn't then stop to inquire about them.

I wasn't able to return to the corner, to the store, until the following week. Same situation as before, only this time I was hoping that all the dragons I had seen last week hadn't been either sold or stored away. I went in, looked, and there it was (or they were, but I had already fixated on one particular dragon). I actually took the thing off the display and after a bit of looking for someone to help me, and a comic moment trying to get the Chinese shelf stockers to understand what I wanted, they called over someone up the chain of command, a manager of some kind. We talked, he brought me and the dragon first to a large display of dragons (actually different from the one I was holding, and not as nice to my mind) and other Chinese New Years decorations, and then on to a cashier. When I asked what the price of the dragon was I was told $14 (during the week I had done a bit of investigation on-line and had seen ones there, again not as nice as the one I saw at The GooDY Mart, going for $27). Sold!

I was so pleased in my purchase I showed it to the driver whose break relief I was doing. He mentioned that he had once been into dragons, didn't have the space for them in his new place, asked if I might like to have them, maybe buy them. I said I'd be interested.

The next week, same corner, same break relief, same driver. When I took over his bus he didn't mention anything about the conversation that we'd had last time. I didn't push it. I figured that if he was interested in passing on his dragons, then fine, if not, if he had reconsidered, then that was fine as well. When I brought back the bus to the stop he got on and then asked me if I was still interested in his dragons. I said yes. He mentioned then that he also had something else that was kind of special. He also said that it wasn't really practical to bring all of them into work (we have different shifts and it would be difficult to meet and to put them in my car, also I think that he just wanted to see them and show them off for a last time) so could he bring them over to my place.

A couple of days later he brought two boxes over to my place and down into the, ah, dungeon. He put the first box on the table and opened it, removed a bunch of paper that was serving as packing material, and then unwrapped six figures: four dragons and two wizards. He then started opening and unwrapping the second box and it contained a dragon chess set (again something that I had long wanted, thought was cool, and didn't think I could see my way to affording). I gave this driver some money for the brood, a sum that I won't mention but seemed to satisfy him and that I thought made this a good deal for both concerned.

Dragon chess set

In the end I had to rearrange a bit of the collection to make room, that's how the new dragons ended up taking over the bathroom (with a couple of additions of similar pieces from my previous hoard). The dragon chess set I set up on my dresser. It's very cool.

In about a week I did a count of all the figures I had (and it wasn't always easy to keep track, some of the dragons are very elusive) and, voila, the magic one hundred was reached. The chess set alone has the 32 men (and women, don't forget the queens) and 4 corner dragons that hold up the glass board itself.

So I live with a bunch of dragons, a hundred or so of them. It's a peaceful enough coexistence, they seem to put up with all my idiosyncrasies, I put up with theirs. And to be honest, in spite of what I just related, I'm really not looking for any new acquisitions, but if something comes up, well...

- Colin