Second Monster

After some experimentation and a respectable amount of putting-off, early this morning I finished Grouphug (grau-FUG).

Grouphug was a scattershot of experiments. Methodical me was all like, "Let's only make one change at a time, and see how that's different." Cliff-diver me was just interested in trying new things. Ultimately, cliff diving took the gold, while "planning ahead" barely qualified.

New lessons:

• Stuff limbs better to keep them from having little creases.
• This furry fabric looks like it'd be cool, but it's actually a bitch.
  
• I thought attaching a band of satiny purple to orange fur would be a neat color and texture contrast. It is, but it's unraveling in a few places, and the stitching in the back is coming apart. It's just a suboptimal fabric.
  
• Also, I wanted it to be a random stripe, not a belt. Must consider monster anatomy more before beginning.
• Soft cotton will be the main event from here on in.
• Horns: I was trying for curved horns. I got cones. Must cut horns in the final shape first.
• Eyes: Can't tell if I like the googly eyes. Can't tell if it matters whether I like them.
  
• Mouth: I drew it on paper before I cut it out of cloth, and I like the drawing better. I was going for jagged fangs, from someone whose primary experience with expressions was reading the Wikipedia entry on "smiles." The smile is sufficiently hideous, but not endearingly inept as I was hoping for. I don't really know how to get what I'm going for here.
  
• Eyebrows: Hell if I know.
• Stitching facial features on was too hard with the fur. So I used super glue. WTF? I guess it worked, but the method is imprecise and my fingers all have glue warts now.

Next monster will be an offshoot of lessons learned from Grouphug, but I have invented all new dumbfounding challenges so the process can safely continue to be unpredictable.

Internet fn

Found a map of the world's Internet suffixes. Do you know what countries these top-level domain types are associated with? Answers below DON'T PEEK. If I knew how to do one of those "below the fold" things I would.

.cd
.tv
.am
.fm
.pm
.mc
.dj
.cx
.gg
.bo (tee-hee)
.ch


There are 245 in all. I wonder if some Pokemaniac has tried to collect a domain in each of them?







Democratic Republic of Congo
Tuvalu
Armenia
Federated States of Micronesia
Saint Pierre and Miguelos
Monaco
Djibouti
Christmas Island
Guernsey
Bolivia
Switzerland (China would be ".cn". Crazy non-English speakers. )

Don't Make Me Vote for Ralph Nader AGAIN

Pat Robertson endorses Rudy Giuliani.

As if you needed any more evidence that an enormous political machine runs the American electoral process, Pat and Rudy are the latest footnote in Wikipedia's entry on strange bedfellows.

But what astounds me, what makes me stare out the window mouth agape, is that there's a candidate who Pat Robertson's constituency would marry their daughters to in the form of Mike Huckabee.

(Metaphorically, of course. If they were actually going to marry their daughters that way, it'd be to Mitt Romney. ZING!)

At least superficially (which is where most of us do our voting), Mike Huckabee has everything that got George Bush elected, except for Constitution-optional advisors.

He's anti- all the things a conservative Republican should be anti-. He's unreservedly Christian. He's politically right, but still has intelligible things to say about the environment. There's no aura of doubt around him like every other Republican frontrunner. And from all accounts I've read, he's likeable as an ice cream truck driver.

Why are Republicans not stampeding to elect this guy? Listening to NPR this morning, I was dismayed to realize that my two likely choices in 2008 would be Clinton and Giuliani. After eight years on the Fantabulous Dubya Fiasco Cavalcade, this is what replaces him? Argh. Argh.

The best chance Huckabee has at this point is a piano falling on a key person in someone else's camp. But it's not like I want to hope for that.

UPDATE, Nov. 9: Pat Robertson may endorse Rudy Giuliani, but Chuck Norris endorses Mike Huckabee. The only reason Chuck himself has never run for president is that no human could withstand the race, and all extradimensional creatures are afraid.

Sci-Fi Style

Writing about reading has given me motive to finish something. Just finished reading Rudy Rucker’s new novel Postsingular, and it’s a well-written novel, full of wonderful and strange ideas, well-presented, and like nearly all sci-fi I read, kind of empty.

I like science-fiction. I don’t like most science-fiction novels. As I’m reading, I follow the characters and skim their ideas and see the reality this author has created and is trying to sell me, I almost always think, “This is your future reality? This is all you’ve got?”

So today in the shower, I was trying to figure out why that is. Here’s what I’ve got so far.

1. Sci-fi writers are more invested in their ideas than their humans, or at least equally invested, which means they’re still only half-invested in people, because they also must spend a LOT of time artfully explaining theoretical physics/chemistry/agronomy so the story remains science fiction rather than science fantasy. Which leads to less fleshed out people.
2. Here’s where I walk into a minefield: They leave God out. Some sci-fi novelists flirt with Buddhism, or take vague (often deprecatory) swipes at other established religions. But otherwise God has no existence. Ignoring God imperils your fiction to irrelevancy.
   

Also, maybe your reality. But if I start there, then I've stopped meddling and gone to preaching.

The humanity, the sense of realness in most sci-fi stories is not jeopardized by the introduction of fantastical ideas, but by the refusal to properly address the rest of reality that you're proposing reacts to them. I want my sci-fi writers to be better engaged with the world, the people in it, and themselves so they can sell those parts too, along with the changes that come from a worldwide nanobot swarm and unfolding the 8th dimension within our understanding.

I don't think that's too much to ask. I just think it's hard.

Read for yourself! Mr. Rucker is giving away the book in pdf form under Creative Commons license. It is worth the time you'll spend on it, despite my misgivings about the whole field.

Reading is for Railroads

I have a wave of new books here at Casa Pienso, like a dozen in the last month, and here is the number I've read: The big goose egg. Zeroteen. None.

I've started almost all of them, but then like a poodle in a fire hydrant factory, I'm off after something else and when I notice what I'm doing, I am aggrieved in ways unlike a poodle.

Here's most of my list, followed by the page number I'm on, and commentary:

• Danse Macabre by Stephen King. Page 100-something. I can't get into this like I meant to, and I haven't opened it in 6 months. I might give up on it soon.
  
• Pilgrim's Regress by C.S. Lewis. Maybe 2/3 done. I was reading this when we moved, and then I lost track of it. It's pretty good. I'll probably go back to it before the end of the year.
  
• I Am America (And so Can You)! by Stephen Colbert et al. Page 50-ish. This is funny, but it's a one-joke book. I think it's better read in several short sittings.
• The Essential 55 by Ron Clark. About half done. This is an inner-city grade school teacher's 55 rules to train kids to be socialized humans rather than modern barbarians. There are good rules for how to interact with anybody in here though, and if you're not careful, you might just learn something before you're through. Hey hey hey.
  
• The Professor and the Madman by Simon Winchester. Page xiii. Only finished the preface to this book about the overseeing editor of the OED and his greatest volunteer assistant, an inmate at an asylum for the criminally insane.
  
• A Short Life of Christ by Everett F. Harrison. Page 0. I assume it's about Jesus or somebody.
  
• Better Not Bigger by Eben Fodor. Page 0. I think it's about gentrification.
  
• Becoming Dad: Black Men and the Journey to Fatherhood by Leonard Pitts, Jr. Page 40-ish. Leonard Pitts, Jr. is an exceptionally clear thinker, and I just wanted to read anything he had to say. This is the only book he's written, so I'm reading it.
• Don't Make Me Think by Steve Krug. Page 37. A thin book about Web usability.
• We Don't Die We Kill Ourselves by Roger L. De Haan. Page I don't remember. My mechanic had a heart scare and diabetes trouble this year, and he now has a convert's zeal about eating well. So in addition to repairing my brakes, he gave me this book.
  
• Stupid Sock Creatures by John Murphy. Page 13. My lovely wife bought this for me off my amazon wish list because I have been making plush monsters, and this is a good book for that sort of behavior.
  
• The History of the Hobbit by John Rateliff. Page 0. John is a former colleague of mine, and dare I say, a "friend." He is the most knowledgeable guy I know about Lord of the Rings, and you'll just have to trust me when I say that's not faint praise. I know people who can speak Elvish. John Ratliff knows more than those freaks (who are dear to me. They are dear freaks.).

This isn't even all of them! Sweet baby Moses in a handbasket, won't someone lock me in a room with a comfy chaise lounge so I can't get any more distracted from reading these freaking things?

Not counting BlogaDay, of course. BlogaDay soldiers on!

We Regret to Inform You

Early in the attempt, BlogaDay has already missed a day. Our Internet access went away yesterday for poorly-understood reasons, so Sunday the 4th got a bye.

I'll double-post one day this week to make up for it, and persist in trucking.

Also, my Skyrates game is suffering. There are cartoon aviator animals who are not getting vital goods delivered, so it's not all about YOU okay?

Copywriting Is Fun.

What I've done at work is moved from proofreading to being a sometime copywriter because they need one around here, but the proofreader who can also write copy is way cheaper.

I've done copywriting before, but never had the title. I did it as the editor of whatever periodical I was working on because somebody had to. It was always a sideline to the real job. Which apparently disguises the fact that when it's your only job, copywriting is fun.

A few weeks ago, I got to make up some chipper-sounding crap about salad dressing. SALAD DRESSING, PEOPLE. I tolerate salad, and have no truck with dressing them, but for a couple of days, I was Mr. Salad Dressing, Esquire.

And it was a blast. Even now, when I'm doing less creative copy stuff for drugs instead of Tangy Blue Cheese Napa Valley Buttermilk Ranch Dressing, it's still kind of fun.

I'm tempted to say, "If I'd known this was fun, I'd have started years ago." but that would be false because my act wasn't together enough years ago to enjoy it like I do now. Now that I've staggered around doing odd jobs and nonsense, I have a real appreciation for this:

A challenging job alongside creative, motivated co-workers, that is seriously not that hard. I sit in a chair and type on an ergonomic keyboard. It's not like I'm hauling lumber.

Unfortunately, the contract ends in a few weeks, so I might have to move on. But now that I can legitimately put "copywriter" on my resume and show some portfolio pieces, it shouldn't be too hard to find more work.

At least that's what they tell me. They said that about grantwriting too, and then I spent four months unable to get a nonprofit in this city to waste a stamp telling me no.

Maybe it's time to stop listening to people who have no stake in my well being. And maybe it's time to go back to sourcing copy for anti-cholesterol drugs which is way more fun than it sounds!

Jam Sessions

For my recently-passed birthday, my recent mother-in-law got me a Nintendo DS.

I love computer games. Oh boy. Oh boy I do. But they are monstrous money and time sinks, and I have to evaluate how I spend my life, and the ROI on electronic games is almost never ever favorable.

Actually, World of Warcraft has gotten me really decent, paying work. So the gazillion hours I've spent playing WoW is justifiable.

Okay, let's not overthink this. The point is, if I start bringing a PS3 and an Xbox 360 and a PSP and a Wii and Deep Blue and WOPR and a pong-playing Univac into my life, then other things have to go away, and those other things are also pretty important.

Also, the insidiousness of things is that once you own them, you are responsible for using them and taking care of them. You're not just buying a thing, you're buying a new focus for your give-a-damn, which is my most precious resource, moreso than money and time.

So I don't play computer games nearly as much as my yearning, child-like heart would wish.

But now I have a DS.

I have one cartridge: Jam Sessions. It's a bare bones guitar sim. You can strum the touch screen like a guitar, and you press the buttons to pick chords.

That's it. Sorry I didn't warn you about spoilers. But that's it. And it's great.

Listen, I don't know if you've ever tried to learn a musical instrument. I've tried to learn a few. It's hard. I don't have the constitution to do a lot of hard things. But this is significantly less hard than actually learning to play guitar. Also, less expensive and less painful.

Another advantage: When I'm done, I can't play Legend of Zelda: Phantom Hourglass on a guitar.

Criminy, why do they still sell guitars?

Where I Get Photos

A few months ago, I wanted to make my blog less ugly without doing any real work. So I started putting pictures up with posts. Where do I get them, you might ask?

Internet theft, naturally. Case closed.

But then I thought I could be more specific.

The horrible truth is that the only pictures here I took are of Ulorg and Groovy's paint job which I did 18 months ago. And yesterday's photo. I took that one. Shame abides! Why do they even let me own a camera?

BUT! But! Here is my secret: Morguefile is full of free-to-use photos that aren't even infringing on other people's copyrights, not even technically!

Morguefile is just a bunch of people taking pictures and then posting them online for anybody to use for nearly any reason, commercial or otherwise. You don't have to pay money. You don't even have to credit photographers.

There are still legal limitations. Like, if it's a person, you still have to get a model release. And the original photographer retains copyright, unless he or she releases the photo into public domain. It's just that the photographer lets you use it for no money.

And as I am fond of saying, free is my favorite price.

BlogaDay

I have ideas for posts allatime, but mostly I'm all eloquent and shit when I'm driving, which is possibly the worst time to be that way, unless you count being in secret prison for crimes nobody will charge you with. I suppose that's a worse time to try to write down your clever little thoughts.

Point being that November is rapidly becoming National [Accomplish Something] Month. Novels or operas or giant bas relief sculptures (NaBaReSculMo). As we all know, by the time something's been properly parodied, the original phenomenon is dying. And by the time I get around to parodying it, you're looking at faded daguerreotypes of the original phenomenon, wondering why no one ever smiled back then.

ALL YOUR DAGUERREOTYPES ARE BELONG TO US.

But I'm doing it anyway, my own little dog-and-pony variation of NaNoWriMo. All November long, I'm posting here every day. It's called BlogaDay.

I just made this up. Don't look for a BlogaDay signup site and t-shirts and freaking podcasts. Although if you send me $30, I'll make an awesome BlogaDay t-shirt for you.

The main reason I'm doing this is I'd really like to break out of the killing habit of making sure that what I have to say is well-researched and original before I post it. Those sound like good criteria, but I never write anything doing that.

So November? In November? I'm writing something every day here. It might just be a repost of whatever I saw that day at Neatorama, but damn the photon torpedos.

For the love of Christmas, I just spent 4 minutes trying to find a Klingon translation of the word "damn" for a joke that approximately zero people will get. This is what I have to contend with. This is why I only post once every locust year.

So. Every day. Something. I will still try to be clever or interesting, but really, you'll just have to smile politely when I'm not. Ready? Go.