Hey, Gang, Let's Put On A Show!

And when your name is Josh Whedon...



...you can actually end up putting on a show!

Coming to an Internet near you, beginning July 15th!

[click image for official Dr. Horrible website]

Cool Art: Stephanie Hans

I've been spending far too much time over on ConceptArt.org, ever since I learned about it (curse you, Irene Gallo, curse you!). CA is a site where artists and illustrators meet to talk, exchange information and techniques, and challenge and critique each other in numerous ways.

One of those challenges is a "Character of the Week" (CHOW) forum where a theme or brief description of a character is posted, and participants submit their personal riffs and renditions on that theme.

One fairly regular CHOW participant, whose work has particularly impressed me, submits her work under the name "Ryuloulou". The art up above, which reminds me strongly of Charles Vess' work, is from one of the CHOW challenges.

Looking at Ryuloulou's profile led to a link to her home page, where I found her actual name is Stephanie Hans, an artist in France who's apparently done quite a bit of work for French YA bookcovers.

(It would be nice *coff* *ahem* *hint* to see some of her work on US bookcovers.)

Her home page has a nicely negotiable gallery section, where you can see more of her work. (If you read French, there's also a link to her blog.) Enjoy.

A Movie I'd Really, Really Like To See

Audrey Hepburn in BREAKFAST AT MOS EISLEY


(via Lucius Shephard) (Ummm... "Shepard") (As if brainfarts weren't embarassing enough when they're not made in public....)

It's Been A While..."

...since I've posted any pictures of the household cats:

Gremlin:

Bastet:

Cassie

(Not shown: Tia and Rikkus, who will apppear at a date to be determined.)

As an extra bonus, glads and iris from our garden:

Fuligin Stew

John Scalzi takes Fox News to the woodshed in "Fox News Would Like To Take a Moment To Remind You That the Obamas Are As Black As Satan’s Festering, Baby-Eating Soul”

Along the same line, Yahoo! News featured this juxtaposition of photos and subhead a few days ago:



Someone at Yahoo! News thinks they have a sense of humor.

Dr. Beckett's Mom Cuts Up His Food For Him

From Britain comes the news that hordes of kill-crazy, knife-wielding young people are slaughtering the people of England left, right, and a deep cut down the middle.

Well, not so much:

...experts differ strongly on whether this is a sudden phenomenon that is taking the country into perilous new territory, or just a blip that is generating a disproportionate response from the authorities.

The data is inconclusive. Government figures show fatal stabbings hover at just over 200 every year, with occasional spikes above 250. This time appears no different, despite shrill headlines warning of "blade-mad Britain" each time another teenager dies in a public altercation.

"There have been a number of high-profile incidents and that gives the impression that the problem is more widespread than it actually is," says Enver Solomon, deputy director of London King's College's Centre for Crime and Justice Studies. "There hasn't been an underlying increase in the number of people murdered by sharp implements."

[...]

Some even argue that this is not an epidemic of knife crime, just an epidemic of press stories about knife crime. "The BBC now puts any murder in the national news," said Simon Jenkins, a prominent commentator. "The effect of this nationalization of social panic is that you get knee-jerk policy reactions," he told BBC radio.

And:

Roger Matthews, a criminologist at London South Bank University, says that surveys of youth show that a "very significant percentage of young people routinely carry knives." He attributes knives' increased popularity to Britain's strong anti-gun legislation. [...] "The great attraction of knives is that they are enormously accessible and can be acquired from different places. Very often they aren't machetes, they are just kitchen knives," he says.

So, Britain has a growing problem with knife-based assaults, except that the problem isn't actually growing. And a lot of these attacks are being made by people carrying kitchen knives.

I. Don't. Think. So.

If I want to carry a knife around with me, I'm NOT going to say, "Oh, I'll just take this unsheathed, sharp-pointed knife from the kitchen and shove it into a pocket." Yeah, someone would likely end up in the ER with a knife wound, but he would be an idiot, not a victim.

If you want to carry a knife around with you, the overwhelming odds are that 1) it will have a sheath of some kind, or 2) it will have a folding blade. Like, oh, the folding pocket knife I usually carry (which also has a belt clip, which is not only more convenient, but saves worries about accusations of "carrying a concealed weapon").

My bet is that the overwhelming majority of "kitchen knife" attacks, in Britain or elsewhere, are the results of domestic violence incidents where someone goes over the edge and grabs the nearest household weapon available, usually the one on the kitchen counter.

But the newspapers say there's a problem, so obviously we need to find someone with a solution to it. Enter Dr. Michael Beckett:

Another medical expert, Dr. Mike Beckett, argues that it is time to remove sharp knives from kitchens altogether. He says there is no need for the pointed tips that make knives fatal. "What people want in a kitchen knife is the edge," he told the BBC. "The point on the end of the knife actually serves little culinary purpose, but it is the point that kills people."

Ay, caramba. No doubt when Dr. Beckett clips out the news article for his scrapbook, he'll use the round-pointed "safety scissors" he saved from his days in kindergarten.

The mental image that comes to mind is of a young British tough getting into an argument, pulling a "Beckett-Special" kitchen knife from a pocket, staring at the rounded front edge, crying "Damn! DAMN, DAMN, DAMN! This won't work!" and getting so depressed that he goes home, runs a hot tub, and slashes his wrists.

Can I be treated like a competent adult now, Doc? Thanks.

(photo from Geekologie)

Two Skilled Gentlemen...

I'd like to recommend Michael Chabon's short novel GENTLEMEN OF THE ROAD, a rollicking "Jews With Swords" story set in the Khazar empire of the 10th century.

On its own, that would be plenty to enjoy. But as I was reading it, I came to the sudden realization "Oh my god, Chabon's main characters are Fafhrd and the Gray Mouser!"

The names may be different, the weapons they carry may be different, Amran may be a giant African instead of a red-headed Northerner, but the flavor, the banter, the style... if Chabon isn't a big fan of Fritz Lieber, I'll have to bake an edible hat and eat it.

Short take: If you miss Fritz Lieber's work, read GENTLEMEN OF THE ROAD.

(Side note: Looking at the Wikipedia entry on Fafhrd and the Mouser, I found that the very first appearance of the characters in a comic-book form was in a 1972 issue of... WONDER WOMAN?!?!?! An issue written by... SAMUEL R. DELANY?!?!?!?!?! Pardon me while my head explodes.)

My Retirement Cake

This is the cake I had made for my last day at work. The decoration is based on a drawing by JayDee Faire named "March of the Happy Mailman" that I came across on deviantart.com several months ago. I was so tickled by the drawing that I wanted to put it on a cake. (Used by permission. Thanks, JayDee!) The original drawing can be seen here.

News, With More To Come

Last Saturday, May 31st, was my last day with the US Postal Service. I am officially retired.

I've been busy since then emptying our rented storage room, going thru the backyard sheds to clean, sort, trash and re-organize the stuff in them, and consolidating it all. BIG pile for bulk trash pickup next week, plus smaller piles for Craigslist, Freecycle, and Good Will.

Then comes similar work on the inside of the house. (Retire... you'll work your ass off!) And then emphasis on job-hunting to make up the difference in income between my regular USPS paychecks and the retirement checks.

More details to come, with pictures of retirement cake, etc., and hopefully more extensive posts on more extensive subjects. Right now, just time for this short post, and the occasional "Snarkaption" photo.

Snarkaption Nation #7

Star Trek Meets L. Frank Baum

Food Porn

Over at BROWNIE OR DIE, blogatrix Jessica has up a post about Sacherbrownies, that includes this photo:



One of the things about the hordes of food blogs on the Net is that some of the bloggers are not only enthusiastic about food, but talented photographers.

So you get a lot of photos that make you go, "Ooh, nice work!" And then there are the photos that I call "food porn", where it looks just SO damn good that you can't take your eyes away, and your saliva glands go into overtime.

That sacherbrownie, with the dark layers of brownie and chocolate sandwiching that backlit filling of apricot jam... oh, man....

Excuse me, I have to go into another room for a few moments. (The KITCHEN, I swear!)

What Was I Thinking?

Actually, what I was thinking last night was:

"Hmmm, when I'm using a knife this sharp, I should probably cut in the other direc... SHIT!!"

Three stitches. 'Nuff said.

Teapots Galoreous

Via chineseclayart.com's newsletter, a link to a teapot art exhibition.

While some of the teapots are done in a rough, thrown-together style that I find ugly, most of the teapots are striking and a goodly number outstanding. Some are barely recognizable as teapots (the aardvark teapot, for one), some use the basic form but a dissonant theme (the gear-wheels teapot), and some are just plain beautiful (the persimmon teapot, shown below).

Announcement, With Mixed Feelings

I've started the paperwork to retire from the Postal Service, effective the beginning of June.

I could say quite a great deal about what led to this decision, but it would probably get me in trouble with my bosses if I actually wrote about it right now. (More details, possibly, after I'm actually retired.)

I'll just say this much: When a bad business plan creates a hostile work environment, there's hope that it can be rectified.

When creating a hostile work environment is the business plan, it's time to go.

Financially, it's not the best time to retire. I'd figured probably another three or four years, to clear off debt and pay the mortgage down (with a possible refinance to reduce payments on the remainder), before retirement. At that point, I'd be able to make ends meet with a part-time job.

As it is, while working to get all the retirement papers (there are a lot) completed, I'm also job-hunting for a new full-time job.

I'm aiming to get back into office/clerical work (I was a legal secretary before getting the letter carrier job, and a company clerk in the Army before that), so I'm trying to brush up on old skills (my typing speed has gone a bit downhill since I was doing it for hours every day thirty years ago) and learn new ones (Microsoft Office seems to be the default software for businesses; I've had some experience with Word -- though I prefer WordPerfect by a wide margin -- but I'll have to install Office and get a good teach-yourself book for Excel and the other Office programs).

Browsing the job listings online, I've actually been surprised at how many jobs might be available. One of the things I did was sit down with a map and figure out how many large businesses are within a reasonable commuting distance. I've already submitted three applications, the farthest being less than eight miles away. I'll be submitting more between now and my actual retirement date.

And if all else fails, I know from friends and family's experience that if you have a clean background, reliable transportation, and are willing to work odd hours, there is always, always, always security guard work available.

Wish me luck.

From Estrella War 2008

(Didn't have my good camera with me, so this is from my cell phone.)

Old Series, New Series

I realized the other day that a popular new TV series has a lot in common with a TV series I watched as a teenager:

THE MAN FROM U.N.C.L.E. : Unsuspecting civilians find themselves sucked into the missions of a secret, clandestine organization devoted to saving the world, and have thrilling adventures.




TORCHWOOD: Unsuspecting civilians find themselves sucked into the missions of a secret, clandestine organization devoted to saving the world, and get killed.

Ten Reasons To Load Up Your Wallet And Head To Scottsdale

The Barrett-Jackson Classic Car Auction is held annually across town in the second-filthiest (as in, "filthy rich") city in the Phoenix metro area, Scottsdale. They auction off rare and valuable collector cars, to the tune of six-digit and occasional seven-digit pricetags.

Very pretty to look at, but I've never wanted to actually own any of the cars sold there, at least not at those kinds of prices. (A Lamborghini? How much lumber and shit from Home Depot can you load into one?)

But I saw the back-cover of the new 2008 B-J auction catalog this morning....

Oh dear. Oh dear, dear, deary-dear me.

This year, on January 19th, Barrett-Jackson will be auctioning off...

ROBOSAURUS!!!


Because what red-blooded American boy (at heart) would not want to be the next owner of (OMG!) Robo-friggin-saurus!?

Reasons? You want reasons? Okay, here are your damned reasons:

1) Dude, it's a robot!

2) It's a robot dinosaur, dude!

3) It's a forty-foot tall robot dinosaur!

4) It's a forty-foot-tall robot dinosaur with flame-throwers!

5) It's a forty-foot tall, flame-throwing robot dinosaur that can pick up an entire car and bite it in half, dude!

6) Chicks dig flame-throwing robot dinosaurs. Yes, really! (And if they don't, they damn well ought to start.)

7) People will be able to find your house easily. ("Just look for the house with the forty-foot tall robot dinosaur parked in the side yard.")

8) The Yard Nazi -- pardon me, I meant to say "City Code Compliance Inspector" -- who leaves you snide notes about your lack of lawnmowing ambition will never bother you again. (Did I mention the flame-throwers?)

9) I can't believe no one's gone to Sci-Fi Channel with the idea for Flame-Throwing Robot Dinosaur, a Sci Fi Original Saturday night movie.

10) And because when you're the owner of a forty-foot tall, flame-throwing, metal-rending robot dinosaur, you will be -- at last, at long, long last -- Cool.

The Right To Bake Cookies Is The Right To Be Free

From The Arizona Republic newspaper, November 27th, "Bake Sales, Beware":

For more than two decades, Earlene McDonald and her neighborhood friends have baked cookies to raise dough for their central Phoenix neighborhood.

They cooked thousands of rum balls, rows of gingerbread and loads of other Christmas treats to sell to the crowds at the annual holiday home tour in the F.Q. Story Historic District.

And, until this year, they did it all in the comfortable, familiar settings of their own kitchens.

The tradition changed after a visit last year by a Maricopa County health inspector who said she would snatch up the cookies because they weren't prepared in a kitchen approved by the county.

So, instead of mixing and measuring in their own homes, they gathered one night this week to bake away inside the gigantic kitchen of a professional catering company.

"Last year, (an inspector) was going to have us throw them away, and I about had a heart attack," said McDonald, 68, who is in charge of the neighborhood cookie operation. "This is a tradition. All our neighbors love it."

At the peak of holiday cooking season, as Valley residents enjoy tamales, cookies, breads and cakes, county Department of Environmental Services officials want to raise public awareness about bake-sale guidelines.

Not a new requirement
The guidelines have been on the books for decades and are meant to prevent contamination and food-borne illnesses such as hepatitis.

The rules call for all food that is sold or given away [emphasis added] to be prepared and packaged in a central location, such as restaurants or school cafeterias, that are regulated and inspected by county health inspectors. More neighborhood groups, such as the residents of F.Q. Story, are borrowing or renting kitchens to comply with the rules.

But for years, many neighborhood, school and civic groups have flown under the health-code radar, officials said, partly because they're unaware of the rules.

Also, it's tough for health inspectors to keep track of the many fund-raisers that pop up in neighborhoods throughout the year.

School requirements
Some Valley school districts have written formal policies that require parents to bring in labeled store-bought cupcakes, cookies and other goodies, though parents often cheat and bring in homemade treats packaged in bakery boxes.

No reports of illnesses from bake sales have been filed with environmental services [emphasis added], said David Ludwig, division manager for the Environmental Health Division.

Officials could not provide figures on how many citations they have issued to neighborhood groups for breaking the guidelines, he said, because they don't track citations by types of events.

Typically, health inspectors would issue a warning before they wrote a citation, Ludwig said. Fines can amount to hundreds of dollars.

Cookies are generally low-risk because bacteria are not likely to multiply as quickly as they do with "potentially hazardous foods" such as tamales, eclairs, cream puffs and pies. Still, it's a concern in this age of contamination.

"Mom might bake a great batch of cookies, but if she has an egg-based cookie and doesn't cook it to the proper temperature, you could get salmonella," Ludwig said.

"If you were out there selling Rice Krispy treats and they were not wrapped, we'd ask you to cease and desist."

Damn.

Shorter Health Department: "You people are pigs! Your kitchens are cesspools! You're trying to poison your friends and neighbors!"

Criminy. Strictly interpreted, the Health Department's regulations would mean that potlucks, bake sales, church socials, possibly even taking a dish to a family Thanksgiving, are all illegal.

The underlying default assumption behind the HD's actions is that home kitchens are inherently unhealthy.

I kinda resent that. Considering that e. coli infections from restaurants are reported on a semi-regular basis, eating professionally prepared foods hardly seems risk-free. (The worst -- actually, only -- case of food poisoning I had came from a dim sum restaurant in Los Angeles; by the time I got home to Phoenix the next day, I was doing the double-ended chunder and came close to ending up in the hospital.)

There really ought to be a recognition that there's an assumption of risk in every daily activity. But there's reasonable risks and unreasonable risks. The Health Department is acting as if eating home-cooked products was an unreasonable risk.

I don't think so. I think it's safe to assume that when I cook something for someone, anyone, I'm not trying to poison them. I think it's safe to assume that most people old enough to cook without supervision know that sufficient heat + food = dead germs. I think it's safe to assume that when I nibble at the Christmas potluck at work next week, I'll still be alive Christmas morning.

This calls for a bumper sticker:

[photos from stock.xchng. Cookie-stack by singhajay (Ajay Singh). Oven mitt by mzacha (Michael Zacharzewski).]

The Perfect Food

On last week's episode of THE BIGGEST LOSER (a reality show with a weight-loss theme), one of the contestants won a 24-hour trip home to see family and friends. While there, she and several friends went out to a pizza place...

...where she ordered a small pizza with JUST marinara sauce on it.

"Accckkk!!" I cried at the tv screen. "Secular blasphemy! Secular blasphemy!"

I'm sorry, but... that's not pizza! That's bread with tomato sauce.

Real pizza is the perfect food. You got your carbs, you got your veggies, you got your meat (optional), you got your dairy, and you got some fats and oils. All the major food groups in one place. Then you bake it all in a hot oven until you get that great caramelization and browning on the dough and cheese. O-o-o-h-h-h, yeah, baby.

What's not to love?

The problem with a good pizza, like potato chips, is that it's hard to stop at just one slice. That's where you get into the excess calories and fats.

Pizza without cheese is just not pizza. If the Biggest Loser contestant had had even a light sprinkle -- a few spoonfuls -- of Mozzarella or Parmesan on her "pizza", I wouldn't have reacted so strongly.

In fact, if it weren't for pizza... the future would never happen.

[warning: Trek-geekery ahead]

In the film Star Trek: First Contact, Earth's first contact by aliens occurs after Zephram Cochrane's flight in the Phoenix, and the first human use of warp drive technology. Supposedly, inventing a warp drive proves your planet is mature enough to be contacted by other races

Uh huh. Yeah, right.

Nope. Inventing a warp drive only gets you a first look. No sane alien race is going to invite you into their Federation just on that one data point. When the Vulcans landed and introduced themselves at the film's end. Of course they're going to take a good look around, and see what kind of history, psychology, track record these "humans" have before things go any further. For a first contact, they're only going to have a meet-and-greet over coffee. If things go well, maybe it'll move on to dinner, and a movie, at a later date

When those Vulcans landed, they discovered a world that had been decimated by war. And when they learned about human history, they would have learned that humans had been killing each other in wars all through their recorded history.

Not very encouraging. If not for a fortunate coincidence, the Vulcans would probably have left a fake phone number, got back on their ship, and flown away

The fortunate coincidence was that they landed in the midst of a party celebrating the warp drive's success. A party where there was music, beer, and...

...oh come on, what do you think would be served at a party like that?...

...PIZZA!

So the visiting Vulcans would certainly have asked about the strange food they were being offered. And they would have been told it was called "pizza".

And they would have been told that it started off with a base of bread dough. That could be done thin-crust, or thick-crust, or hand-tossed. That it could be white, or sourdough, or whole-wheat. It could even be a pre-cooked crust, like lavosh, or Boboli,

And then they'd have learned that the next step was a sauce, usually but not always tomato-based, seasoned with a wide, wide range of spices. Or you could make it with an Alfredo sauce, or pesto, or just olive oil and garlic.

And then the meats, if you wanted. Sausage, ham, bacon, beef, chicken, rattlesnake, anchovies, whatever you felt like.

And the extra veggies. Onions, olives, peppers, mushrooms, etc., etc., etcetera.

And the cheeses. Mozzarella, Parmesan, Romano, goat cheese, Feta, Gorgonzola, and even more etcetera.

All these choices. All these variations.

By which point, the Vulcans would have been standing there, jaws dropped and eyes wide. And they would have turned to one another, and said something like:

"These people... these humans... they have created something that is a physical manifestation of the Vulcan philosophy of IDIC: 'Infinite Diversity in Infinite Combination'. Clearly, they are fit to join with other races."

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is the true story of how humans went into far space.

(You can trust me; I wouldn't make up something like that. If you don't believe me, do a search on "pizza ovens"; one of the major brands of pizza ovens is... yes, really... "Vulcan"!)

(Incidentally, after that first contact, the Vulcans of course took pizza back with them into space, and spread the concept to other planets. The results were not always pretty. The Klingons' own unfortunate variation on the pizza concept gave rise to the Klingon expression "Some days you eat the pizza, and some days the pizza eats you.")