And if it falls off, kick it.

(Button available on Etsy.) 

This week I was working on a brochure for someone in another department, and he seemed to feel that some sort of small talk was in order during the process of watching me make changes to the layout.  So, à propos of nothing, he asked if I had watched Does Someone Have to Go? on television the other night.

I replied, "No, what's it about?"

"Reality TV program."

Sigh.

"Dan, as you may have gathered from the "what did you do on the weekend" portion of our Tuesday departmental meetings that you attend, I write a blog about science fiction and fantasy for fun - I've been doing it for about seven years.  I own more than 3,000 science fiction, fantasy and horror novels, along with a selection of comic books, illustrated magazines, and reference material - not to mention the DVDs and Blu-rays. I've been a science fiction fan since I was about eight, but I like to think that I actually became a fan in the womb, in the same fashion that babies can get a drug addiction from their mothers, because my mother was a science fiction fan.  DOES THAT SOUND TO YOU LIKE SOMEONE WHO HAS ANY INTEREST IN REALITY?!?"

Honestly, give your head a shake, Dan.

- Sid

 

The Doctor-Daniel.

The BBC recently announced that Matt Smith, who has been skillfully performing the role of the Doctor on Doctor Who for the last four years, has decided to hang up his bow tie and fez at the end of this year.

I think that Smith has done a fabulous job as the Doctor, and I found that he brought a marvellous sense of reflective age to the character, an accomplishment made even more impressive by the fact that, at 26, he was the youngest actor ever cast in the role.  But, as always, people move on, and the inevitable scrum regarding the choice for the next pilot of the TARDIS has begun. 

Since the renewal of the series in 2005, there's been a lot of unnecessary secrecy involving casting for the part of the Doctor.  Let's be frank, the future of Western civilization does not hang on preserving the security surrounding this process. However, it's an obvious opportunity to capitalize on the massive fan interest by turning it into an artificial media event, complete with code names, secret casting locations, and coy hints about the final choice.

I suspect that there's been less speculation about Jack the Ripper's real name or the possibility of a second gunman on the grassy knoll than about casting choices for the Doctor - honestly, people, as per William Shatner, "It's just a TV show!"  Because of that excessive scrutiny, I think that every possible candidate, no matter how unlikely, has been considered and evaluated.  My god, it's possible that someone on an obscure forum somewhere has suggested that I take the job (I doubt I'd get it, they've been trending toward younger actors, but I wouldn't say no).

However, out of the myriad of names currently in the speculative hat, there is one in particular that I feel does deserve some discussion:  Daniel Radcliffe.

The erstwhile wizard has been cheerfully managing his transition into mainstream adult acting since the last movie of the Harry Potter franchise hit the big screen.  He's not afraid of his connection with Harry - he's happy to make jokes about it, but he's also aware that it's what put him on the map, and as such I think he's maintained a good balance between acknowledging that debt and wanting to seek new challenges as an actor. 

That quest to try different directions is very important for actors who have made their impact in genre films.  The industry is full of people who, having been involved in a successful science fiction or fantasy production, were doomed to never escape from beneath the shadow of that entry on their resume.*  As such, young Mr. Radcliffe might be understandably reluctant to undertake another iconic franchise. On the other hand, acting is a job like any other job.  If you want to get paid, you have to work**, and it must be tempting to trade in on one's popularity with the fan community to get a high-profile role like that of the Doctor.

But in this case, I think that Daniel would need to take a moment and consider the possible consequences of a decision to sign on as the Doctor.  I have this terrible mental picture of an international IT crisis as geeks around the world exploded or burst into flame or suffered from some other physical manifestation of nerdgasm as word spread that Harry Potter was going to play Doctor Who.  Oh, the humanity...!

Ahem. Or not.  I sincerely doubt that Daniel Radcliffe will pop up as the post-regeneration 12th Doctor - all other issues aside, their pattern is to choose successful actors but not necessarily high profile names.  Logic says that like every other television show in the world, Doctor Who has a budget, and in these troubled economic times, Daniel Radcliffe might well have too high price tag. The flip side of that coin (no pun intended) is that he might do it for fun, in the same way that Samuel L. Jackson begged George Lucas for a small role in a Star Wars movie.

Ultimately - time will tell.

- Sid

* In the unlikely event that Mark Hamill reads this:  Mark, I hope you get some screen time from Disney in the seventh movie.

**  Patrick Stewart:  fine dramatic actor, extensive resume in classic theatre, including a stint with the Royal Shakespeare Company.  Did he initially thank or curse his agent for signing him up for Star Trek: The Next Generation and then as Professor X, in the X-Men?

"Now with more chunks of real goblin steak!"

Ah, but the question is: by goblins, or with goblins?

- Sid

(Photographed at the Wolf & Hound Pub on Broadway.)

First thoughts on Sunday morning III.

Let us take a moment to consider Superman. He is a legendary figure, both in the fictional world he inhabits and the real.  Everyone knows that the radiation from our yellow sun gives the last son of Krypton an astonishing catalogue of abilities:  the strength to lift a 747, the power of flight, heat vision, invulnerability, and so on.

But what are the physics of invulnerability?  Superman can crumble concrete between his fingers and bathe in lava if he so chooses. Bullets bounce off his skin, and he is unharmed by vacuum of space - but how does his sensory system interpret these extremes of input?  Is Doomsday's punch just an excessive amount of pressure?  The heat of the earth's core a warm caress, and the chill of the arctic a cool breeze?

We know that in extreme situations Superman can be hurt and feel pain, which suggests that as with homo sapiens*, there's a spectrum of tolerance, albeit a spectrum with a stratospheric top end - but what about the other end of the range? If Superman is indifferent to the impact of steel-jacketed slugs, what does he feel when Lois Lane kisses him?  Logic suggests that the touch of a woman's lips would be so far below the threshold of Superman's sensory apparatus as to be non-existent.  An amourous woman might just as well hit him in the mouth with a sledgehammer if she hoped to get his attention.

This might well explain why DC's 52 reboot has initiated a physical relationship between Wonder Woman and Superman.  Who else could exert sufficient strength to kindle the fires of passion in the Man of Steel - and survive the experience should Superman reciprocate?

However, the romantic in me says that logic has nothing to do with it.  Perhaps Superman only needs to feel a kiss in his heart.

- Sid

* I think it's fair to say that Superman's extraterrestrial origin qualifies him as a separate species - homo kryptonis, or perhaps homo eximius.

And a matching plushie at home.

I was surprised to notice that one of my coworkers has a teeny little Cthulhu idol on her desk at work.  Apparently followers of the dark cult of the Old Ones are everywhere.

Fhtagn!

- Sid

Chris Hadfield, King of Space.

As it turns out, Canadian astronaut Chris Hadfield wasn't actually proclaimed King of Space in Kazakhstan, in spite of what Reddit would like you to think, but maybe he should have been.

Chris Hadfield has probably done more to raise the profile of space exploration than anyone since Neil Armstrong. (Or perhaps William Shatner.) His Twitter™ feed, loaded with incredible photos from his 146 day tour of duty on the International Space Station, has close to a million followers, and the video for his cover of David Bowie's Space Oddity has been viewed 13,479,763* times in the seven days since it was posted on YouTube™, making it the most popular video of the last week by about 12 million views.

Unfortunately, there's an odd dichotomy regarding space exploration.  On one hand, both NASA and the CSA (Canadian Space Agency, for you international visitors) are facing reduced programs and budget cuts right across the board as governments struggle with widespread economic problems.  Up against that, there's an undeniable interest on the part of the general population:  early videos of the Curiosity Rover on Mars were so popular that the volume of viewers crashed the NASA server, and Chris Hadfield's musical efforts have pulled in more Twitter™ followers than Avril Lavigne's.

The interesting thing about the massive popularity of Hadfield's orbital updates is that there wasn't an engineered publicity process behind them. It wasn't the result of a structured media blitz, or orchestrated by some kind of agency, it was one guy talking it over with his family and taking it from there.**  On that basis, it has to be one of the greatest single-handed viral promotional events of all time.  Hopefully someone in a position of authority will take note of what he's accomplished, and realize what it means as an indicator of interest in outer space.

All hail King Christopher.

- Sid 

*And counting - up to 13,523,098 since I started writing this posting.  It's actually about 14 million - Larrivee, who made the guitar featured in the zero-g performance, has nabbed another 500,000 views of Hadfield's video on their own channel.

** Is it just me or does that sound like a really Canadian approach?


UPDATE: 14,103,113 views, Monday May 20th.

UPDATE: 15,036,588 views, Sunday May 26th. 

 
UPDATE: 50,764,341 views, Saturday January 23, 2022 - gosh, it's been a while since I've visited this post.

 

UPDATE: 55,262,265 views, Wednesday March 5, 2025.
 

"For here am I sitting in a tin can..."

I very rarely just post linked content, but really, how cool is this?

- Sid 

(And we all know who Chris Hadfield is? Yes? Please? Everyone?)

A State of Mind, Part II: Tears in Rain.

I've seen things you people wouldn't believe...huh...attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion...I watched C-beams glitter in the dark near the Tannhäuser Gate. All those...moments...will be lost in time, like tears... in... rain.

Time... to die...

Roy Batty, Blade Runner

On my way back to the Austin Hilton after my bookstore trip, I passed a little South Congress store call Parts and Labour, specializing in clothing by Texas designers, which incorporated a little shop called Shark Attack, selling posters and prints.  A little voice in my head said: posters... prints... Austin... Alamo Drafthouse... TURN AROUND RIGHT NOW...

As I mentioned in my post about the Alamo Drafthouse, their custom movie posters are legendary.  Austin-based artist Tim Doyle, who both initiated the poster program at the Alamo Drafthouse Cinemas and contributed poster artwork, has gained international recognition for his silkscreened designs.

As such, it was a pleasant surprise to find Tears in Rain, a marvellous 12 by 24 inch limited edition* Blade Runner inspired print signed by Mr. Doyle, for only thirty dollars.  The rain is wonderfully represented by a fine diagonal texture overprinted in silver.

Roy Batty's final speech from Blade Runner is one of the most evocative and moving pieces of cinema dialogue.  People are surprised to discover that it was partially improvised by Rutger Hauer, who felt that the scripted version was inappropriate, "opera talk" as he described it. He cut out several lines and added in the line about "tears in rain."

An enormously friendly and helpful employee offered to let me pick out a print of Tears in Rain that I liked, and as it turned out there was an version as low as number ten out of 190 available.  Traditionally, limited editions with lower numbers are more desirable than higher numbers, although for a run as low as 190 I doubt that there would be any sort of serious degradation to the screens.

The same helpful woman (who I would acknowledge by name if I'd had the foresight to check for a nametag) carefully placed the print in a sturdy tube after wrapping it in brown paper with an overly generous margin to (successfully) act as a shock absorber during the trip back to Vancouver.  Since then, I've had the print matted and framed by the good people at Kimprints in Gastown, and I picked up the excellent results this afternoon after work.

So there's the first step in adding some genre accents to my living space. Now I just have to figure out where to hang the damn thing...

- Sid

* It's a second edition, which does puzzle me a little.  New screens?  New artwork?  

  

"Crimson. Eleven. Delight. Petrichor."

Idris: It means "the smell of dust after rain."
Rory: What does?
Idris: Petrichor.
Rory: But I didn't ask.
Idris: Not yet. But you will.

Doctor Who, The Doctor's Wife

Thanks to Doctor Who, and by extension Neil Gaiman, I knew that the smell in the air following the brief shower this afternoon was petrichor. 

***

Initially, that's where I was going to stop - this was going to be another "you know you're a geek when..." postings.  But really, I think I owe my adopted homeland a little bit more credit than just that.

You want to increase your word power?  Forget Reader's Digest*.  Spend forty years reading science fiction and fantasy, and trust me, you will end up with a vocabulary that will result in bafflement, envy, and awe - perhaps all three at the same time, depending on the audience. 

But every once in a great while, you'll enjoy the distinct pleasure of finding someone who can reply in kind.

- Sid

*  Reader's Digest Magazine used to run a feature called Increase Your Word Power! - for all I know they may still have it, I haven't picked up a Reader's Digest for decades.

A State of Mind, Part I: Ellison Wonderland

"Would you like a bag for that?" 

"Yes, thank you, I'd rather not sweat all over this on the way back to the hotel."

Conversation with the counter staff at South Congress Books.

As per my Alamo Drafthouse posting in February, I spent most of last week attending PePCon, a publishing/epublishing conference that was held in Austin, Texas. The event itself was excellent, a marvellous professional development opportunity, but sadly it didn't leave me a lot of time for sightseeing.

However, I did manage to briefly get away from the hotel in order to see a bit of the city and perhaps do some shopping.  As you might imagine, when I say "shopping" I'm not talking about looking at shoes or picking out a cute outfit - for me, shopping involves only one thing:  books.  So I took a quick look at Google™, picked out what appeared to be the closest used book store, and headed out into the searing heat of the afternoon.

My initial thought when I entered South Congress Books was that I had made a bad decision - nothing at all against the book store itself, a compact, well organized space, but I generally feel that if I'm in a book store that doesn't have a dedicated science fiction/fantasy section, I'm in the wrong book store. Nonetheless, having exposed my pale Canadian skin to 35 minutes of blazing Texas sunlight to get there, I felt that I should at least look about a bit before leaving.

I was somewhat mollified to find an interesting selection of vintage hard cover science fiction in the rare books section, but unfortunately all priced a bit rich for my blood.  However, encouraged by this display of genre presence, I switched my attention to the FICTION section and began working my way through the alphabet.

I was pleased to discover a diamond mixed in with the dross almost immediately.  There on the shelf was what turned out to be a first edition hardcover copy of Mefisto in Onyx, by Harlan Ellison, with cover artwork and introduction by comic book artist/author Frank Miller.  Quite reasonably priced (in my opinion) at thirty-five dollars - condition not quite mint, but certainly near-mint*. 

(By the way, this is the back cover, that's the front cover leading off the posting.)

Mefisto in Onyx is an expanded version of a short story which originally appeared in the October 1993 edition of Omni magazine.  Interestingly, in a genre where authors' careers are very much defined by their novels**, Ellison's success and reputation is almost entirely based upon his award-winning short story and television script work.  Ellison has written a couple of full length novels, but they have failed to have the impact of short works such as I Have No Mouth and I Must Scream, A Boy and His Dog, or "Repent, Harlequin!" Said the Ticktockman.

It is sobering to think that Ellison, the enfant terrible of science fiction during the 60s, will be 79 at the end of this month.  Reading his writing from that period now, it's astonishing to see how far ahead of his time he was - many of his stories read like a false dawn of cyberpunk over twenty years before William Gibson started work on Neuromancer. 

That being said, in the unlikely event that the infamously litigious Mr. Ellison should read this, I feel that some sort of disclaimer is appropriate.  Mr. Ellison, I mean absolutely no disrespect to your work in any other decades, and agree wholeheartedly that The Starlost was a horrible travesty of what it should have been.

- Sid
  

* Whenever I hear this term used, I have this terrible urge to ask if they have any other flavours.

** Isaac Asimov - the Foundation Trilogy;  Frank Herbert - Dune;  Robert A. Heinlein - Stranger in a Strange Land;  Larry Niven - Ringworld;   Arthur C. Clarke - 2001; and so on and so on.  Not their only novels, but the ones that are most associated with their writing careers.

Gnomic statements VI

Does that make tomorrow the Revenge of the Fifth?

- Sid 

And, you know, a toothbrush and socks and so on.

Geek packing.

- Sid 

Raygun Gothic.

During the high point of the Downes Age, they put Ming the Merciless in charge of designing California gas stations. Favoring the architecture of his native Mongo, he cruised up and down the coast erecting raygun emplacements in white stucco. Lots of them featured superfluous central towers ringed with those strange radiator flanges that were a signature motif of the style and which made them look as though they might generate potent bursts of raw technological enthusiasm if you could only find the switch that turned them on.

William Gibson, The Gernsback Continuum

I lost it recently - which is probably just as well, under the circumstances.  No, it wasn't my cool, or my peace of mind, or my faith in humanity (sad to say, long gone) but rather an eBay™ auction for a Buck Rogers Disintegrator Pistol, model number XZ-38 to be specific. 

I've made cautious forays into genre collecting with my Major Matt Mason purchases, but somehow the idea of owning an 78-year-old ray gun takes it to a different level in my mind.  To be truthful, the idea of spending over $150 on a rusted child's toy also indicates a different level to me, which is probably why I stopped there and let the next bidder take it for only eight dollars (and fifty cents) more.

The XZ-38 Disintegrator Pistol, produced by Daisy Manufacturing in 1935, was the follow-up to the astonishingly popular XZ-31 Rocket Gun* of the previous year, which had resulted in lineups of over 2,000 eager buyers at Macy's in New York when it was released.

The arsenal of Buck Rogers weaponry - there was also an X-35 "Wilma Deering" pistol and the XZ-44 Liquid Helium Water Pistol - is the first big science fiction spinoff merchandising success, reflecting the popularity of the Buck Rogers comic strip which was introduced in January of 1929.  The daily strip was based on Armageddon 2419 A.D., a short story by Philip Francis Nowlan which was published in the August 1928 edition of Amazing Stories, the classic Hugo Gernsback "scientifiction" magazine.

The eBay™ seller aptly described the XZ-38 as "Machine Age Toy Art", which is an accurate description of the Art Deco inspired design aesthetic introduced to the world by Buck Rogers and his spiritual partner (and competitor) Flash Gordon in their comic strip and movie appearances during the 1930s and 40s.

(I've always felt that the great failing of the Buck Rogers in the 25th Century television series with Gil Gerard was that its art direction was based more in the 1980s than the 1930s or the 2400s, whereas the ongoing cult popularity of the 1980 Flash Gordon film adaptation owes a strong debt to the faithfulness with which it reproduced comic artist Alex Raymond's distinctive illustrations.)

So this time I regretfully decided to pass on the opportunity to own a genuine piece of geek history - but, who knows?  Maybe next time I'll be up against someone whose mental rusted-toy-purchase governor is set twenty dollars lower than mine.

- Sid

* My apologies to everyone who thought that it would be the follow-up to the XZ-37.

 

As opposed to nerd glaze.

From: Sid Plested
Sent: April-25-13 8:33 AM
To: Wendy
Subject: Jane Lui
Jane Lui's web site is www.janelui.com – sometimes it’s not rocket science – and right on her front page is a link to a mashup video with Felicia Day.  (If you don’t know who Felicia Day is, sadly, you are experiencing geek fail.)
- Sid

Although I had to lead with the Felicia Day picture for the sake of nerd glaze (or geek fail, as the case may be), it is completely necessary to recognize Jane Lui herself: talented musician, passionate performer, and quirky sound effect guru.

- Sid 

"In the morning, she had forgotten."

I’m currently re-reading Dan Simmon's superb 1989 novel, Hyperion.  Simmons is a talented and versatile author whose work includes high concept SF like the Hyperion series and Ilium/Olympos cycle, horror novels like Carrion Comfort and The Children of the Night, and historical/speculative works like Drood.

Hyperion takes its structure from The Canterbury Tales by Geoffrey Chaucer, where each of the six major characters tells their tale to their fellow pilgrims. In this case, the pilgrims are making their way to the enigmatic Time Tombs on the distant planet Hyperion, where they hope to find the metallic Shrike, an anthropomorphic killing machine that will grant one of them a wish, and slay the rest. 

One of the pilgrims plans to ask that his daughter be healed - while doing archeological research in the Time Tombs, she has been afflicted with a terrible punishment, growing younger and younger each day, now with only a few days remaining until her life ends, ironically, by reaching its beginning.

I’m struck by the poignancy which Simmons gives to the situation through his description of the widowed father's reactions to the plight of his daughter as she grows younger and younger, losing her intellect and her memories one day at a time, bewildered and lost, up until the point where she says her last word: "Mamma".

For people like myself who have no children, it would be difficult to imagine how such a situation would feel, but Simmons creates a believable and tragic window into the gradual loss of a daughter.  It is made even more affecting by the father's inability to share his anguish with his daughter - because, if he does, she will simply forget.

- Sid

P.S. In passing, there is a marvelous wistful moment of whimsy at the end of Hyperion. It was such a perfect non-conclusion to the story that I was almost sorry that there was a sequel.

 

Well, he WAS playing the theme from Star Wars...

And when this fellow announced that he was a Narnian faun - I'm sorry, traffic noise prevented me from getting his name - my first thought was "Aren't you a little tall for a faun?" (As opposed to being a little short for a stormtrooper.)

- Sid

"Well let me ask you an important question then…what is your cup size?"

Me: This is not an interview, this is degrading. I’m done. (I walk away)

Him: (clearly dumbfounded and surprised) ..Come on, it’s all in good fun!

Me: Being degraded is fun? 

Mandy Caruso, Beautilation

Go to Google Images™, and type in "cosplay".

(Go ahead, I'll wait…)

What you'll see is an apparent Who's Who of characters from comics, movies, games, animé, and television shows.  A closer look reveals that it's pictures of people (and a few dogs) dressed as those characters or interpretations of them - mashups, steampunk, crossplay/Rule 63* versions - at conventions, studio setups, or appropriate locations. And there are a LOT of pictures.**

Welcome to cosplay. To slightly misquote the infamous Darth Laurie, every day can be Hallowe'en.

Originally, cosplay - an obvious combination of "costume" and "play"- was almost exclusively an homage to characters from Japanese animated programs, or animé.  Cosplayers would construct intricate costumes faithfully based on those of their favourite characters, and then have themselves photographed in appropriate settings for the characters they were portraying.  Cosplay originates in Japan in the late 70s or early 80s, and as it became increasingly popular, it made the transition to the rest of the world.

Having made that transition, it has become hugely popular on a global basis, to the point that a separate industry in cosplay support has developed, with companies suppling accessories, weapons, patterns and costumes to the cosplay community.  (I've listed a few stellar examples at the end of this posting.)

In spite of my own costumed appearances at Hallowe'en, cosplay doesn't really appeal to me as a hobby, for a very simple reason.  I'd rather make something completely original rather than duplicate an existing creation - not to suggest for a second that there isn't room for originality in cosplay, but it's generally a venue for duplication and interpretation rather than genesis. However, due to cosplay's enormous popularity, I consider it to have achieved a status as its own genre within the community, and follow it the same way that I follow books, comics, games and so on.  I admire cosplayers for their creativity and their craft, and the sense of commitment, accomplishment and enjoyment that they bring to their hobby.

That being said, cosplay has been the target of some of the stupidest comments and problems that have ever plagued a fan community.  Cosplayers have been the victims of three main problems: sex, race and entitlement.

Let's start with sex.  (As the bishop said to the actress.)  Comics and genre movies and games are all guilty of idealization and objectification of women to a greater or lesser extent, no argument there.  (I've commented on this previously, regarding Red Sonja and Wonder Woman.)  What this means to the cosplay community is that in order to accurately portray certain characters, women wear costumes that reflect the objectification from the original material - in other words, tight spandex and outfits without a lot of coverage.

The question of female empowerment has already been discussed here, and as in that discussion I can only comment from my own perspective.  Regardless, I think that any sensible person would agree that if a woman actually did decide to dress provocatively to attract male attention, there are easier ways to do it than by spending three months sewing a Poison Ivy costume and wearing it to a convention.

However, the problem is not the people in the costumes.  The problem is people who come to the false conclusion that because someone at a convention is dressed in a leafy bathing suit or spandex tights, they are a valid target for verbal or physical harassment.

Although she's probably not the first person to actively protest this kind of treatment, cosplayer Mandy Caruso certainly stands at the front of the line in terms of having both stood up to an abusive interviewer when dressed as Black Cat at a con, and in posting the details of her encounter on Tumblr for all and sundry to read.  Mandy's experience became part of a growing movement to address the issue of harassment at conventions, resulting in the recent Cosplay ≠ CONsent campaign started by 16-Bit Sirens, which has struck an obvious chord within the community.

Next we have the problem of race. Astonishingly, there are people who feel that cosplayers should only play characters of their own colour.  This particular bit of insanity was brought to the forefront several years ago when cosplayer Chaka Cumberbatch posted a picture of herself as Sailor Venus, prompting unbelievable comments like, "For a black cosplayer (not to be racist) she did an amazing job!"

Ahem. Everyone, I'd like to introduce Yaya Han.

Yaya Han is living the dream as far as the cosplay world goes.  As far as I can tell from her FaceBook page, she spends almost all her time visiting conventions, where, in addition to selling the products from her cosplay accessory company, she appears in the costumes she has made, judges competitions, sits on panels, and otherwise supports the community.  In the above photos (my apologies for lost copyright tags on one or two) she appears as Wonder Woman, Power Girl, Arkham City Catwoman, Baroness DeCobray, Carmilla from Vampire Hunter D, a Dark Elf, the Scarlet Witch, and a Granado Espada Wizard, none of whom are Chinese women in their original versions.

So what?  Ms. Han obviously possesses an incredible eye for detail, mad skills with a sewing machine, and a huge commitment to her hobby/profession. How unfortunate to try to limit that commitment by suggesting that she should only appear as Mulan or Chun Li because she's Chinese.  What a bizarre idea!  Does that mean that Canadians can't go to conventions dressed as Captain America?  (Any American readers who have the urge to say "yes", be careful about what you start. Wolverine was originally a Canadian...)

I think that what this really comes down to is the question of entitlement, or lack thereof:  the decision by part of the fan community that cosplayers - especially female cosplayers -  are literally just posers, without a "real" commitment to the genre.  Unfortunately the poster child for this sad philosophy is an actual comics professional, an artist named Tony Harris whose 2012 FaceBook rant against fake geek girls was so extreme that at first it was assumed that his account had been hacked. 

In spite of my jokes about wanting a higher geek rating, I don't for a moment think that there's a ranking system for geekhood - we are not better or worse than each other, we are just different in terms of what we know and like, and how we choose to express it. 

In a way, this blog is an example of that. I started this blog partially as a writing exercise, an ongoing motivation to sit down at a keyboard on some kind of regular basis and put words in a row. But I didn't randomly decide on science fiction novels, fantasy games, Doctor Who and comic books as topics - those are the things that I enjoy and are a large part of my life, and this blog gives me a way to have my own voice regarding them.

On that basis, I have nothing but respect for anyone, regardless of race, creed, colour, religion or cup size, who has made the same decision - the decision to commit, to have a voice, to tell the world what they love.  The fact that their voice may involve fabric and wigs rather than adverbs and HTML just adds depth to the topics that we're all talking about.

So, just to summarize: we're talking about people who have spent countless hours and hundreds of dollars to create costumes, who have then invested in plane tickets, hotel rooms and con tickets in order to show off their handiwork and share their craft with their peers, who then get hassled by slack-jawed mouth-breathers who ask them about their cup sizes or grab their butts - and there are people who don't think that they're serious enough in their commitment to be allowed - allowed - to wear the costumes?

To quote the Bunny, it is to laugh.

- Sid

SHOUT OUTS:

Mandy Caruso:
http://beautilation.tumblr.com/ 

Anthony Misano:
https://www.facebook.com/HarleysJoker
https://www.facebook.com/TheBatmanChronicles

Chaka Cumberbatch:
http://www.xojane.com/issues/mad-back-cosplayer-chaka-cumberbatch

Yaya Han:
http://www.yayahan.com/
https://www.facebook.com/yayacosplay
http://yayacosplay.deviantart.com/gallery

Svetlana Quindt:
http://www.kamuicosplay.com/
https://www.facebook.com/KamuiCos

Harrison Krix:
http://www.volpinprops.com/portfolio
http://www.flickr.com/photos/volpinprops

Catherine Jones:
https://www.facebook.com/gstqfashions
http://www.flickr.com/photos/gstqfashions

* Rule 63 states that for every fictional character, there exists a counterpart of the opposite sex:  Antonia Stark/Ironwoman, Prince Peach, Lucia Skywalker, Harlan Quinn - you get the idea. A formal example would be Starbuck in the Battlestar Galactica reboot.

** As a generalist geek, I cast a wide net, so I have a pretty good recognition factor for costume origins.  Ironically, considering that cosplay starts with animé, those are the outfits that I generally don't know, and I am unfortunately forced to categorize them in my head as "based on one of the thousands of Japanimation sources".

As opposed to reblogging the same picture a million times, which is Tumblr.

March 30th saw the the official premier of the current Clara Oswald, the new companion on Doctor Who, and I'm sorry to say that I found the whole thing to be a bit dull.  A couple of clever bits, but generally the episode was trying too hard in terms of setting up the new big plot point for the coming season, and showing off for the new companion. (Hopefully the new companion - we've seen the woman three times and she's still not really on board, in the most literal sense.)

I think that the companion recruitment process has become flawed - the last few pickups have seemed contrived, somehow. The joke is that the 2012 Christmas special gave us a charming, heartfelt scene between the Doctor and Clara, a meeting of minds and a meeting of hearts, a tender, magical moment that began the Doctor's return to the world after the loss of Amy and Rory, all thanks to Clara  - and then they killed her.

I think it's a shame that they didn't decide to go with the Victorian Clara as the new companion.  It used to be that the Doctor's companions came from the full range of time and space, but all the new ones have been uniformly British and modern.  Isn't it time for a different perspective?

However, full points for the following joke from Saturday's episode:

Doctor:  This whole world is swimming in wifi.  We’re living in a wifi soup.  Suppose something got inside it, suppose there was something living in the wifi, harvesting human minds, extracting them.  Imagine that…human souls trapped like flies in the world wide web, stuck forever, crying out for help.

Clara:  Isn’t that basically Twitter?

- Sid

"Better, Stronger, Faster."

I recently upgraded from my beloved but aging 6 megapixel Nikon D70 to a shiny new 24.2 megapixel system.  Shortly afterward, I had dinner with an acquaintance who, among other products, sells professional quality digital view camera backs. To my surprise, his top of the line sensors only weigh in at 80 megapixels of resolution.  I realize full well that pixel count alone doesn’t dictate quality, but I would have expected that high end pro equipment would go into the hundreds of megapixels – gigapixels, perhaps. 

But this gives rise to another question: at what point does technological improvement become redundant?  After all, if there’s a level at which a digital display contains more information than the human eye can differentiate*, why bother?

Ah, well then, obviously the next step is to upgrade the human eye.

And that may not be a joke. The creation of a direct neural link to hardware, visual or otherwise, would probably mean the biggest change in the world since the invention of the wheel, if not fire.  As one of my co-workers pointed out, the limiting factor in cell phone development is the human hand.  Current state of the art might well allow for all of the components of my iPhone to be crammed into something the size of my little finger, but the necessity to allow for physical manipulation of the controls makes that impractical.

Once that technology can be distributed here and there throughout your body – a node on your hand to answer calls, your retina overlaid with a HUD, an antenna plated onto your skull, the audio feed direct into your aural nerve, and so on – the nature of our interaction with technology becomes completely different, as much a part of our personal kinesiology as nodding our heads or blinking our eyes.

Not surprisingly, the concept is fairly common in science fiction.  William Gibson’s Sprawl trilogy includes “simstim” as one of its props.  The concept is that headsets would allow the audience to experience a full sensory duplicate of a celebrity's glamourous life directly from the star's point of view:  visual, auditory, sensual, etc.

The exact process is characteristically undefined, but the most evident part of the technology is implanted artificial eyes, complete with corporate copyrights etched around the iris, that somehow transfer visual input into a digital format as well as functioning as eyes. (Presumably there are equivalent devices to allow for transmission of the other sensory inputs – in spite of the, ah, comprehensive nature of the experience, there’s no suggestion that all the critical aspects of the performer's anatomy are replaced.)

The technology of the Sprawl also allows for users to add sockets that allow them to access experiential information from silicon chips** and as a result be able to speak other languages or fly airplanes, at least as long as the chip is in place.

Samuel R. Delaney’s 1968 novel Nova posits a more physical approach, with interface sockets on both wrists and at both ends of the spine. These sockets allow the user to plug into any and all types of hardware, turning everything from flying a starship to operating the power winch for a fishing net into the same sort of directly experienced physical activity as climbing a flight of stairs or sweeping the floor. The result is a changed world, where everyone’s work has become a direct physical part of their lives, with a corresponding increase in personal fulfillment and worker satisfaction. 

The real question is not whether or not this sort of technology is feasible.  Medical technology is already taking its first fumbling steps into allowing blind people to perceive the world through hardware connections to the brain.  The question is a far more fundamental one:  would sockets be a privilege or a requirement?  This is a question that would depend entirely on how the interface system would be integrated into society.

On one hand, it could become the mark of the elite, where digital eyes and biomechanical hands would only be available to the now-infamous one percent, a sort of bionic bling. The other option is that it would become the mark of the underclass, a clear sign that the possessor has quite literally become part of the corporate machinery.

Hopefully there's a third option, an option closer to Delaney's future. where everyone would gain from the process, creating a world which was simultaneously larger and yet more personally connected than the one we live in now.   

- Sid

* The resolving power in pixels for the human eye is a difficult question, depending on whether you count all the photoreceptors or just the colour-sensitive cones concentrated in the central foveal area of the retina. Depending on what you pick as a cutoff, we may or may not have digitally exceeded the eye already.

** Daringly called microsofts:  you can almost hear the copyright lawyers salivating...

It does? Really? Wow, thank you!

You Know You're a Geek When, Part 3.

DOCTOR:  Oh, hello!

AMY:  Doctor, what is that?

DOCTOR:  It's all right. It's an Ood! Oods are good, love an Ood. Hello, Ood.

Doctor Who, The Doctor's Wife

I was pleased beyond words to receive the following e-mail on Friday, cheerfully informing me that the banner layout that I'd done for our safety department looked ood. 

In my wildest dreams, I have never aspired to that level of accomplishment, and it was with a sense of satisfaction in a job well done that I sent the PDF to my colleague.

- Sid