Their problem, it seems, stems from the appearance of the power-up more than anything else about it.  Mario, when he dons this thing, appears to be essentially wearing a life-size skin or costume that resembles a giant raccoon.  Because of this, they reason with their flawless logic, the game encourages abuse and skinning of raccoon dogs and other animals, presumably for the purpose of entertainment and/or fashion.

Mario obtains this power-up, which has been a part of the franchise since Super Mario Bros. 3 featured it in 1988, by beating up, mutilating, and skinning a tanooki… oh, wait, no he doesn’t.  He gets it the same way he did in SMB3, by catching hold of an in-game leaf that bestows the power-up.  It allows him to glide and thereby access otherwise impossible to reach areas of the game.

So, there’s no in-game brutalization of animals to villify this suit’s acquisition, which to my admittedly limited way of seeing things renders the first part of their charge invalid.

But, of course, the insanity doesn’t end there.  PETA went so far as to commission Super Tanooki Skin 2D, an apparently crude parody of the game, in which the player (a tanooki, I’m guessing; I refuse to play or go look for this thing) tries to get their skin back from Mario.

You did not misread that.  In PETA’s game, you’re apparently an animal, and you’re trying to reclaim your skin back from a man who did not take it from you.  The mere description of this “game” made me explode in partially amazed, partially horrified, laughter.

I can only imagine what those game sprites must look like.

What this means is that PETA has not only abandoned reason in their argument that the game encourages animal abuse and slaughter, but they’ve abandoned good taste (and possibly sanity) by having gone and supported the depiction skinless animals trying to take back their skins.  From someone who didn’t do it.  They’re depicting the thing they presumably are trying to guard against.

I have to ask the people at PETA, are pixelated images really worth this kind of publicity?  It’s a video game, morons.  It’s not real, it’s escapism, fantasy.  Get over it.

Finally, there’s the question of timing.  PETA’s been around since 1980.  The “Tanooki” suit has been a part of Mario games since 1988.  If this power-up is such a big deal, and so offensive to your delicate sensibilities, why didn’t you protest the damn thing back when it first came out, and you were already established as  an organization for puerile nagging and lame-ass publicity stunts animal rights?  Why wait until now, when it’s been part of the franchise for so long?

From a philosophical standpoint, I don’t have any real issues with PETA.  But when ideals are taken to this kind of absurd extreme, and the agency in question starts to become the thing it hates, it does nothing but make them look stupid (or worse: insane).  My advice to PETA on this issue: pick your battles a little more carefully.  Do your research on the game in question.  And for god’s sake, don’t depict skinless animals on a vengeance mission against a person who never harmed them.  That just makes you look like a crazy person’s collective.
]]> http://tonywgoodwyn.wordpress.com/2011/11/17/omg-really-peta/feed/ 0 tonywgoodwyn http://tonywgoodwyn.wordpress.com/2011/03/12/setbacks-and-182500/ http://tonywgoodwyn.wordpress.com/2011/03/12/setbacks-and-182500/#comments Sat, 12 Mar 2011 19:27:26 +0000 tonywgoodwyn http://tonywgoodwyn.wordpress.com/?p=147 ]]> I had a bit of a setback to 182,500 recently.

Lately, I’ve spent probably nearly two weeks worth of time being unable to write.

A range of personal issues have been weighing heavily on my mind, all at once. I won’t go into much detail, but I will say that, even individually, each issue was significant enough that it might have thrown off my momentum for at least a day or two. As it turns out, several sprang up simultaneously, resulting in a mental version of someone physically curling up into the fetal position and going silent and limp.

Shortly after they emerged, I would go to the keyboard to write… and find myself killing time and productivity by playing Entanglement or World of Warcraft. Writing was just not possible; I seemed to have a combination of writer’s block and a semi-nauseous reaction to the idea of writing. This, along with several other signs, was clearly brought on by my worrying about these issues. I wasn’t eating regularly, having difficulty sleeping, and just felt more stressed in general.

I’m pretty sure I’ve gotten through it, and it wasn’t one huge two-week block of time, to be sure. I had the occasional sporadic burst of creative energy that enabled me to hammer out the occasional page on a project. But, looking back, I’ve got a lot of days to make up, even if my word count average is about where it should be.

This is probably my biggest weakness as a writer, and possibly as a human being. I can accomplish so much whenever conditions are ideal, or even just good or average. But if you throw one good-sized monkeywrench—or even several tiny ones—into the works of my little world, it becomes really easy for me to get worried, distracted, unfocused, and at times, just plain useless. It’s probably worse than being an actual perfectionist—they only demand flawlessness in the things they do; for me, I have to have conditions “perfect” in order to function well, or even normally.

I suppose becoming worried is my way of dealing with it. I take time and energy off from other tasks (with the exception of work) so that I can think about and deal with larger problems, confront my fears and uncertainties about them, and when those fears and uncertainties are resolved, move on. At that point, I feel like I’m mentally prepared to deal with them if they become larger.

I feel like I’ve done this, and am ready to play catch-up and continue with this resolution. The problems themselves are still there, and yet I’m already back to writing, as you can tell with this entry. Am I still worried about them? Yes, I am. Will they be resolved anytime soon? I doubt it.

But I think John Lennon put it best when he once sang that “life is what happens to you while you’re busy making other plans.” It’s not easy to take that phrase to heart, however true it may be. We have a tendency to want things in our lives to turn out a particular way, and don’t usually take unexpected or large changes very well. But that is how life works, and whether we know it or not, that’s how we work more often than not.

I think if we can learn to let go of the way we demand to see things at all times, at least occasionally, then life becomes a lot easier to handle in the long run. Hopefully this most recent setback will serve as a lesson to me, and enable me to overcome any future ones with a bit more aplomb.

(Note: anyone who’s seen me tagging tagging this resolution as #187,500 is correct, that’s a mistake.  Everything henceforth should be 182,500, though I’m pretty sure I’ll be able to hit the larger number if I keep on task.)

That’s the number I’m aiming for, though if I manage to pass it at a relatively early point in the year, I don’t stop writing.  I keep right on plugging along, because the point of this particular resolution/exercise/extra thing to do is that I get myself into the habit of writing significantly, every day, no matter what I’m doing or how busy I am.

If you think you’ve heard this from me before, you’d be right.  I’ve attempted 182,500 several times in the past, and always failed hard, miserably, and early.  In fact, with it being mid-late February now, I can say with at least some pride that I’ve managed to maintain a 575-word daily average so far into this year, and I’m still going.  I’m already much further along than I’ve ever come in previous years.

Here’s how it works: every day, I am to write at least 500 words.  They can be from various projects I’m working on creatively, be they fiction or nonfiction.  They can not be from work (where I actually do quite a bit of writing), or in the form of mere Twitter posts or Facebook status updates, but they CAN be blog posts (this one counts, actually!).  If I miss a day, I can make it up by writing a separate 500-word project in addition to the one I must do for the current day–this keeps me away from the temptation to “put it off til tomorrow.”

I can NOT write a 1,000 word project and count it towards the missed day; while that will balance out the averages, the point is to write EVERY DAY, and each project represents that effort.  If I write 1,000 words on a daily project (it occasionally happens), great.  But it only counts for that day.  I still have to work on a project for the current or missed day.

Finally, each project can be a smaller part of a larger work.  For instance, I wrote a five-page Nighthunter comic script that was about 1,500 words in one evening recently.  A week later, I wrote another script, but only 2 pages in, totaling about 700 words.  I wrote the remaining 3 pages a couple days later, filling in another 900.  Those projects (the 5-pager, the 2-pager, and the 3-pager), each counted as separate projects, even though they may have produced only two “finished” works between the three of them.

Frankly, I don’t think I’d be able to keep this going if I couldn’t work this way.

So, that’s what I’ve been doing with a significant portion of my free time this year.  182,500.  And somehow, I still manage to find time to play WoW, have a great relationship with an awesome girlfriend, and (oh yeah) hold down a full-time job.  I’m actually pretty proud of coming even just this far, and am hopeful about finally conquering it this year.

One of the projects I’m working on for 182,500 is a Doctor Who fan script.  If you read this sparsely-posted section of the web, you probably know of my recent though abiding love for this show, which has inspired me to play in its sandbox, regardless of whether it ever sees the light of day.

This particular project has taken me a while to get to, mostly because it intimidates the living hell out of me.  I love the writing on Doctor Who, and am trying to hold myself to the very high standards of the BBC’s writing staff.  I’m constantly looking at it and thinking, “No way.  It’s meh, okay, but it really doesn’t pop like the show!”  You can imagine how depressing that gets, so it’s not always fun to write.  But I do keep trying; I soldier on.  After all, that’s what editing is for.

(182,500 side note: editing does not in ANY way contribute towards word count.  If I do that [and I do and will], I’m doing it IN ADDITION to any writing I have to do for the day.)

The second reason I’m so intimidated is because of the focus of this particular fan script.  I chose a topic/person who is pretty well known to fans of the macabre or weird, and writing about that person’s life and world presents its own set of challenges, from having to do lots of extra research to making sure I capture the spirit of that person’s life, world, and works.  I’m grateful I can break this particular project up into 500-word chunks, because otherwise I’m pretty sure I’d collapse underneath the sheer enormity of it all.  Still intimidated.  Still soldiering slowly through it.

Anyway, I’m into the second act of the script, which will contain a disclaimer, teaser, and five acts total.  Any Doctor Who fans who read this are welcome, in the name of keeping me on task for this year, to ask at later points in time how it’s coming along, when it will be finished, etc., so I can be damn certain that at the very least, I get this script out of this effort this year.

I won’t put it up for viewing until it’s done, so don’t ask.  I have to finish it.  Consider this a way of helping me make sure I get it done.

But, it was a comic book superhero movie, and I am a sucker for those kinds of movies.  Plus, they’d used Black Sabbath’s “Iron Man” song for the commercials and trailers, and I had to admit the fusion of two was pretty cool.  Overall, though, I wasn’t expecting that much.

Then Robert Downey, Jr. goes and makes me like the character of Tony Stark.  He’s an asshole, but darn it, if he isn’t one of the most likeable assholes you’ve ever seen in a movie.  That totally effortless mixture of wit, ego, intellect and compassion came through beautifully on the screen, and coupled with the top-notch visuals and well-paced story, made Iron Man one of the most fun, high-flying and thoroughly enjoyable movie experiences of the genre.

I went and saw it in the theater six times.  I’ve never done that for any other movie.

Then last year, Iron Man 2 came out, and of course, expectations were very high.  Would it top the first one?  Would it be as good?  Personally, I didn’t think it would, if only because the first film had been such a surprise delight to me.  But still, I had hopes, and maybe even a few expectations as to how good the sequel could be.

I think my reaction could best be described as lukewarm.  Iron Man 2 certainly wasn’t a bad movie–I mean, it’ll never win any Academy Awards, but neither did the first one (which was, however, nominated in two categories).  It was fun, and action-packed, and funny, but of course, it wasn’t going to touch its predecessor, truth be told.  But it did have some unfortunate baggage, which I feel the need to point out and talk about.

1. Tony Stark’s blood poisoning–Almost from the get-go, the movie had me wrinkling my brow, starting with this little plot element.  It’s not a particularly unbelievable development; ARC reactor technology, fictitious as it is, is relatively new in the movies, and a side effect like this could honestly develop over time for someone like Tony Stark.  But unfortunately, it had an unshakable feel of storyteller’s remorse, as if he’d ended too happily in the first film and the producers decided, “Tony needs pathos, we’ll use this to suddenly give it to him!”  This entire development occurs offscreen, and for a franchise that prides itself on building upon the universe it creates in its movies, this comes off as slipshod and annoying.

2.  The “Magic Element” Cure for said blood poisoning–If anything were more annoying than the contrived development of Tony’s pity-inducing condition, the producers must have dug really deep to find it, because they found an even more contrived resolution!  “SURPRISE, TONY STARK!  Nick Fury and SHIELD knew your dad!  And your dad just knew you’d invent/discover the new element that would be exactly the thing you needed to counteract your blood condition!  Isn’t that sweet?  And by the way…. deep down, your gruff, hard-working, jet-setting dad really loved you, and just couldn’t express it while he was alive.  He was actually Howard Hughes by day, and Walt Disney by night.”  (I hope that was as much fun for you to read as it was for me to write.)

3.  The Villain–Okay, I’ll admit Whiplash was pretty cool to watch.  He was creepy, and darkly intelligent, and was well-played by Mickey Rourke.  My big problems with him tended to lie with the overall backstory of that character.  Essentially, we are to believe that Vanko’s father worked with Tony’s dad at Stark Industries, helped invent the ARC reactor, was muscled out of the deal at the last minute and sent back to Mother Russia, where he and his son grew up in disgrace and poverty.  When his father dies, Vanko discovers the plans for the ARC reactor his father had somehow saved, and uses them to create a suit similar to Tony’s for the purpose of taking him down.  He is, essentially, the dark Stark: intelligent and capable, but using his gifts for evil.

Where did Vanko get the resources, the components, or even the raw materials to build his weapon?  He and his dad were dirt poor, by all appearances.  Where did he get the training and technical expertise to do this?  You can be smart, brilliant, and so on, but that’s only going to get you so far in a specialized field of weapons development without a whole lot of training and experience.  These were the questions going through my head during the film.  It simply felt like his development (or lack thereof) was a vital part of the character that simply wasn’t given enough narrative heft to convincingly stand as the dark mirror image of the film’s hero.

4.  The overall feel of “Let’s rest on the laurels of the first film!”–I’m sorry, but that’s what it felt like.  Let’s let Tony’s suit and the special effects tell the story, rather than developing the characters in more or less believable ways!  Let’s bring back Nick Fury and make him so much less cool than he is in the comics, even if Samuel L. Jackson is playing him!  Let’s put Scarlet Johanssen in as the Black Widow, just because we can!  Honestly, I was carried away by the first film because the story was plausible (for a superhero movie, of course) and fun.  This was less of both, and it’s hard to shake the feeling that the success of the first film made them a little lazier this time around.

Again, this wasn’t a bad film.  It had some genuinely memorable scenes, such as Tony telling Congress, flippantly as you please, that he will not turn over the Iron Man suit to the U.S. government.  His teamup with War Machine at the end to take on Whiplash and his army of Hammerbots (as I call them) was a lot of fun to watch.  It just had some elements to it that made me cringe in places, and unfortunately they detracted from the overall experience.  Hopefully that won’t carry through to the next film, but as with so many propositions, only time will tell.

I was introduced to The Daily Show in mid-2004, while I was in library school. After watching the show take current news and put a slant on it that was both comedic and accessible, I quickly came to respect Stewart’s penchant for political satire. It became a nightly staple of my television rotation at the time, and in the lead-ups to the 2004 election, rarely missed a single episode, all-too-eager to see the latest barb about Bush’s bid for re-election or Kerry’s comically wooden attempt to unseat him.

Then came Stewart’s appearance on Crossfire in October. Now, I didn’t see the appearance live, but I sure as hell watched it on the Internet after he mentioned it the following Monday, and it pretty much sealed the deal for me. I’ve never really cared for opinion shows, particularly those with a political focus, but I honestly didn’t think I could articulate why I found them distasteful until I saw Stewart come on and basically say, ‘Shows like this replace honest debate with loud, vitriolic showboating.’

I also don’t think, at that point, I’d ever seen the host of one TV show go onto another TV show and make that show’s hosts look like complete and total morons, which was pretty remarkable.

From pithy insights and snarky quips about the issues of the day to creatively hilarious subversions of pop culture with some of their headlines (“Queer and Present Danger” and “Gaypocalypse Now” are two fairly recent ones), The Daily Show consistently does a good job of taking issues, personalities and events that the general public may not know or care much about, and through satire and humor, raising their visibility in a way that might prompt someone to think, “Hmm, this could be important.” That’s not an easy feat to accomplish, particularly on a regular basis for such a long stretch of time, but The Daily Show continues to deliver, lampooning and soliciting laughter without preaching.

Now, I know the show is considered a liberal bastion by some, but this really matters very little to me. I am liberal in probably most ways, conservative in some. I still find it funny when the Democrats get mocked and berated for not being able to pass legislature with a majority in both houses. But the right, it seems, has simply provided more fodder over the years, and The Daily Show seems to go after whoever the moron of the day happens to be. It may not do so on a strictly equal basis, but I’m more interested in entertainment than political enlightenment when I watch this show, and as long as it delivers, I’m happy.

The Daily Show has grown and changed considerably over the years, spawning a television spin-off, The Colbert Report, and two books, America (The Book) and Earth (The Book). It has been a major springboard for the careers of its many comedian correspondents, including Stephen Colbert, Jon Hodgman, Steve Carell, and John Oliver. It’s won scads of awards, which I won’t even bother naming here; it just reinforces my belief that I know how to choose good TV.

If I had to choose just one particular trait of The Daily Show that really appeals to me, it would probably have to be Jon Stewart’s ability to put down the comedy when the situation calls for it. One of the most unforgettable clips I’ve ever seen from him was the first broadcast of the show after the terrorist attacks of 9/11. He spoke frankly about the event, showing vulnerability, dignity, and finally, resilience to his audience, something they doubtlessly needed at the time. He has admitted, very somberly and on the air, to making stupid remarks on his show, apologizing when he acknowledges them. These situations speak volumes not only to Stewart’s ability as a performer, but to his integrity and character as a man and citizen of both his country and his industry.

Of course, there’s also the sheer wit that goes into the show he runs. Be it the personalities of the correspondents (or Stewart himself), the off-the-wall observations, commentaries, or focuses on particular issues, The Daily Show never fails to make me laugh, and in some cases, even think more about what’s just been satirized. Even during the 2007-2008 Writers’ Strike, The Daily Show cleverly acknowledged their absence by temporarily re-branding itself A Daily Show, with Stewart taking any opportunities presented to voice his support for the striking writers, as well as engage in a fairly funny three-way mock rivalry/brawl with Stephen Colbert and Conan O’Brien, whose shows were also continuing without any writers.

With its combination of satirical wit, social commentary, The Daily Show is one program that I hope will continue on for as long as possible. Its creator is hands-down one of my favorite comedians, who seems to handle most situations with humor, grace, and believe it or not, dignity. I know it’s a team effort, helped by writers, production staff, and many others, and his many public acknowledgments of their contributions guarantees that, for me, anything he writes or produces, I will support.

I’ll just let that sink in for a moment for the fans.

At that point, I’d heard of Joss Whedon. I knew he’d created Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Angel, and was well-loved by fanboys and fangirls the world over. But at the time, the only actual experience I’d had with his material were a number of episodes from season 5 of Buffy, which I’m sure many will agree, was not the strongest season of television material he’d ever produced. So, my impressions of him at that point were not bad, but I wasn’t expecting to be particularly impressed.

Now behold the punchline: after one episode of Firefly, I did a 180 and thought the world of him.

It was late 2005. Thanksgiving, as a matter of fact. Serenity had been recently released in movie theaters, and some of my friends convinced me to go and see it at a local movie theater. To get me ready, they showed me the pilot episode of Firefly, also called “Serenity.”

It was all interesting enough, until the moment I watched a preacher suddenly throw down on a law enforcement agent and face down another man who wanted to kill that agent—all without a gun, or any weapons at all. Suddenly I was hooked, drawn into the drama of a group of thieves caught up with a young, well-to-do brother smuggling his sister out of the hands of a repressive government. In addition, they had to keep themselves working, through means of varying legality, so they could keep the ship running and themselves fed.

Firefly proved to be a wealth of interesting interpersonal dynamics. The captain of Serenity, Malcolm “Mal” Reynolds, was the laconic, bitter survivor of a war that cost him most of his friends and the totality of his faith in a higher power. He had strong relationships with his crew: Kaylee, the lovable, brilliant young engineer of the ship; Zoe, his stoic second-in-command and the only other survivor of the war from his platoon; Wash, her goofy husband and a pilot of unmatched skill; Jayne, a gruff, crude mercenary whose knowledge of guns is equaled only by his lust for the almighty dollar; and Inara, the ship’s companion, whose occupation disgusts Mal, even as he suppresses deep feeling for her. Throw in Simon, a young, brilliant physician; his sister River, whose brain is prized by the government, even as it causes her mental problems; and Book, a preacher who happens to be on the right ship at the right time, and it’s easy to see the potential for character-driven brilliance.

All of these relationships are nuanced and complex, particularly when you consider that this show only lasted the better portion of one year. After seeing some of the dialog exchanges, such as Jayne and Wash sparring over who shares the risks during missions, and Book and Kaylee’s brief discussion of ships and journeys, my opinion of Joss Whedon’s writing rose considerably. After seeing the rest of the episode, where I saw a deal gone wrong, then righted; a harrowing, narrow escape from a predator ship; and the heartwarming results of a brother’s determination to protect his sister, I knew I’d have to see the rest of the shows he worked on.

My friends then showed me the episode “Out of Gas,” which explains in flashbacks how the original crew of the ship met, even as Mal lies dying and bleeding in the present. It’s alternately amusing, harrowing, and endearing, this episode, and it’s punctuated with a silent, unforgettable flashback shot of Mal looking longingly on as he lays eyes for the first time on Serenity.

After that, we went to see Serenity in the theater. Serenity, which had me on the edge of my seat for almost the entire time. Serenity, where two major characters are killed. Serenity, which was made as a consolation prize for the fans whose show Firefly had already been canceled. By that point, I was already one of those fans.

When the end credits were rolling, I turned to one of my friends and said, “I almost wish you hadn’t shown me this.” When she asked why, I responded, “It really drives home the fact that it’s not enough for something to be good in order for it to be successful.”

The crew of Serenity have since gone on to life in the comic books, much like Buffy and Angel have. But there’s a definite longing for what could have been, had FOX actually taken care of the show from the get-go and given its creator the kind of support and freedom he needed. The comics, which I read and have read as opportunity allows, maintain a very narrow span of the characters’ lives, set between the end of the series and the beginning of the film. Not exactly the same tradition of the continuations of Buffy and Angel, which were longer-lived and had more or less proper television endings.

The biggest draw to this show for me was the characterization, hands down. Be it the exploration of individual characters or the interplay of an ensemble, Firefly really did a good job of making you care for them. Mal really is a smuggler captain with a heart of gold who can give Han Solo a run for his money. His relationship with Inara, a remarkable character in her own right, is both obvious and understated in its complexity. Book and Jayne, who at first come into near deadly conflict over the immediate fate of a man’s life, eventually become friends and workout buddies, even though they’re remarkably different people. And that’s only scratching the surface.

Another draw is the humor, which often occurs at the most unlikely moments. Mal, having bested a man in a duel, elects not to kill him, but to give him little jabbing stabs with his sword, making slightly more self-deprecating remarks as he does. Jayne ambushes Mal with an impressive-looking gun and a massive scowl, only to offer the gun in trade for a woman. When Mal scolds him with the rebuke that the woman has a name, Jayne holds the gun lovingly and says, “So does this! I call her… Vera.”

And don’t even get me started on the Ballad of Jayne!

Firefly wasn’t my first exposure to Joss Whedon, who has since gone on to become one of my idols of writing, but it was the show that made me take notice of his writing after rolling my eyes at the mention of his name for a while. Because of Firefly, I gave Buffy and Angel a chance (more on them at another time). Because of Firefly, I realized that good things don’t necessarily get to be long-lived. And because of Firefly, I’m always wondering how I can write compelling and engaging characters who my readers and audience will care for as much as I do.

Thanx, Joss.

This is the effect I hope to achieve with any audience that sees my material, be it my fiction or nonfiction, and the shows I cover here have inspired and will no doubt inform the sensibilities of any fiction I write. While I don’t watch a LOT of TV these days, there are quite a few that have given me more than their fair share of joy and marvel. I rarely discover a favorite show while it’s on TV; usually friends introduce me to them and get me hooked, but then I usually have the advantage of having plenty to enjoy at that point.

These programs all came to me in different ways, and over different time spans. Some were, of course, shown to me by friends. Others I’d watched with vague interest at first, and then became absorbed.

Others seemed like I’d never enjoy them at first, and a few just won me over at first viewing. And I think it is appropriate to start with one such program, particularly since today marks the anniversary of a long run it’s had since its beginnings. I speak, of course, of the BBC’s ingenious program Doctor Who.

Anyone who knows this show and who knows me may be surprised that I’ve never even seen a full episode of it until earlier this year. This, of course, is my habit. I discover something that’s brilliant, and realize I get to spend weeks, months, in this case YEARS, catching up on the source material.

Doctor Who was first broadcast on November 23, 1963, though technically I’ve never seen that particular series, which ended in 1989. The current one is a direct continuation of that series, started in 2005. It’s ostensibly science fiction, about an alien man (who looks human) with a police-box-shaped spacecraft that can traverse time and space, but I’ve heard more than one person call it fantasy as well. In my opinion, it takes elements and tropes from both genres and works them into a narrative that is dark, humorous, intelligent, cheesy, and witty, often all at once.

My first experience with the Doctor involved the literal last five minutes of David Tennant’s life as the title character. He was regenerating into someone else, though he clearly didn’t want to and was grieving about the process even as it slowly overtook him. An alien, scary-looking at first, appeared to the Doctor, telling him the Universe will sing him to his sleep, and ending with a line of dialog that sticks with me to this day: “This song is over. But the story, never ends…”

The Doctor put himself in his ship, the TARDIS, and went into orbit around Earth for the final stages of his regeneration, stating, “I don’t want to go,” before a violent surge of energy engulfs his body and turns him into the Eleventh and current Doctor, played by Matt Smith. After quickly and rather humorously searching himself to make sure he has legs, arms, hands, fingers, nose, throat, and several other necessities we tend to take for granted, he realizes the regeneration is causing his ship to crash into the earth, and that he has to stop it somehow. Gripping onto the console of the falling TARDIS, he lets out an enthusiastic yell of, “GERONIMO!” and the end credits start rolling.

Needless to say, that five minutes got me hooked enough to want to watch more. Here’s a quick list of why:

• David Tennant got a HUGE send-off, I later discovered. He got to say goodbye to his former companions. He was a well-loved Doctor, and it showed, even in this endgame. The emotion on his face, the music played as he “died,” and the overall tone of the moment said it all.
• Matt Smith won me over in less than a minute. He was goofy, spirited, enthusiastic, and geeky from the get-go. The expression, “GERONIMO!” made me want to see how he handled challenges. I would not be disappointed.
• The premise of the regeneration was very intriguing to me, and I later found it to be a very clever device the BBC would use to keep the continuity of the show, even as other actors vacated the part over the years.
• Finally, it was obviously science fiction, and it looked like science fiction that had a lot of fun. I had to see if that was true. It totally was.

Fortunately, we were able to watch the next episode starring Matt Smith immediately, and after I managed to pick my jaw up off the floor, I looked over at my girlfriend and said, “Well, thanks. Now I have over 30 years worth of material I have to catch up on now!” Which of course I meant as a compliment. I also asked how it was possible that I’d never watched this show until now. She simply smiled and shrugged, and watching it became a new regular obsession of mine.

As we progressed through the current season, I found myself more and more engrossed in the series for many different reasons. Clever, snappy dialog. Imaginative use of time and space travel. A professed disdain for techno-babble (which I love at times, to be fair). Characters you immediately loved, hated, or were intrigued by. And, not least of all, bravado: unbridled, unapologetic, get-in-your-face energy that made the entire season a fun-filled, if sometimes intense, romp that I didn’t want to end.

When we finished that season, I ecstatically found myself wanting to see more of the past ones. And so I do. I went back to the beginning of David Tennant’s run, to see the predecessor Doctor in action, and get a look at why he was so well-loved. And believe me, I can see why. He’s been nothing but a joy to watch, and even as I near the end of his run with some sadness and trepidation, I am looking forward to seeing how Christopher Eccleston fairs as the Ninth Doctor.

As my first “real” Doctor, Matt Smith is my favorite. He is, quite simply, Supergeek, and damn proud of it. Stay out of his way, because he doesn’t take anyone’s crap, be it the Daleks, the humans around him, or even the whole of the Universe.

Throughout the show, or at least this second launch of the show that I’ve seen, the writing has been top-notch and made for more than a few memorable episodes. Werewolves and the simultaneous gratitude and disdain of Queen Victoria; a black hole that contains the being purported to be the Devil; a DVD that dialogs only with one specific person about killer angels and time travel; the tragic workings and visions of an artist whose fame and genius were far ahead of his time. These are just a few of the wonders I’ve seen, and I can’t wait to see more.

Doctor Who is one of only a handful of shows that has profoundly affected me on an emotional level from the get-go. I don’t just admire the writing and characters and plots. I love them. I want to write more because of shows like this. I want this show to go on for decades and centuries, that way I might someday have a hand in it. I want the characters to live on, and the story to never end, because I’ve already been told that it never will.

What I find most clever about the show:

• A spaceship that’s bigger on the inside than on the outside.  That’s right, you read it correctly, non-fans.  TARDIS means Time and Relative Dimensions In Space.  Quite simply, it’s Time Lord (the Doctor’s species) technology.  No more explanation needed.  Brilliant!
• The Doctor is a (mostly) non-violent hero.  He solves problems and handles confrontations with knowledge as his first line of defense.  His most utilized portable gadget, the Sonic Screwdriver, can open almost any lock, scan things, heal minor wounds, any number of things, but it’s not a directly offensive weapon.  It’s a tool that happens to serve the Doctor well.  Also brilliant!
• The Doctor’s use of intelligence and knowledge of a weapon.  At one point, he is confronted by an alien that is taking the appearance of one human being and his dog, but barking out the man’s mouth.  Which could be pretty scary to look at (and is, to the human with him).  But the Doctor just kind of smiles and goes, “Muddled the voices, didn’t you?  That requires a psychic link with a dormant host, how’d you do that?” And you just can’t help but admire that kind of bravery.  Or curiosity.  Or stupidity.

So keep it coming, BBC. Keep broadcasting the Doctor, and I’ll be there every chance I get. Because even though I’m relatively new to the Whoniverse, I’m already one of its most ardent fans.

Oh, and to Steven Moffat, the current executive producer of the series and scribe for some of its darkest, most memorable episodes: Good on you, mate. You’re quickly becoming one of my gods of writing, and not just for this show. But more on that for another entry…

Seriously.  I’m in line, waiting to have my ID and boarding pass checked.  A reasonable concern, I concede; it makes sense to make sure the person getting on their flight is indeed the person they say they are.  But keeping in mind that I’m dragging a rolling carry-on with one hand and have a backpack slung over the other shoulder, it becomes a little ridiculous to start fishing in my pockets for my wallet, which contains my driver’s license, which I must then fish out of its confines.  Add to that the fact that I’m already holding my delicate paper boarding pass in my free hand, and that I must keep moving along in line… well, I’m sure it’s not difficult to imagine the ridiculosity that can ensue.

Somehow, I manage.  I get everything out in time, show the security personnel, and get move along.  Now comes the fun part.

Conveyor belt screening and walkthrough.

I feel like a member of Chippendales as I start quickly removing my jacket and shoes, which takes time.  Once I get them into a bin, I open up my carry-on, fortunately designed to include a plastic sealable bag for liquids, which I put into another bin, and THEN I open up my backpack to remove my laptop and place it in the been with the plastic bag.  THEN I put my carry-on on the conveyor belt.  AND the backpack.

Then I walk through the screening door.  Or try to.

The alarm goes off.  I’m told to remove my belt and empty my pockets and put them in a container to go through screening.

Oops.  Looks like I forgot something in my long, long, list of things to do in the name of security.

So I do that.  And I walk through.  And then I’m playing hide and seek, looking for my bins and things and snapping them into the backpack or carry-on, and leapfrogging around other passengers to get to them.  Finally, it’s a nice game of Twister as another passenger finds the container with my belt and pocket materials, and reaches across a couple other passengers to give them to me.

Once I gather everything up, I go and sit at the bench and start putting on my Chucks, which gives me time to think that, with all this going on, I’m glad I only have to fly occasionally.

I understand why the security procedures are there.  I understand that they must be done.  But I also think it’s not unreasonable to expect the people charged with protecting Americans who fly to find ways to make this entire process a little smoother.  I don’t know what they’d be, but I will say that I’m not unaware of the impending increase in airline ticket prices.  That, coupled with the absurd expectations of security screenings, make me even more reticent to pack up and fly out.

Lucky fans-who-were-there!!  I’m very jealous.

A note to friends, loved ones, etc.: if you can ever get the drop on me in this way, and surprise me the way these fans were surprised, you’ll pretty much have made my year.  Or decade.  Or even life.  :)

From the article: “If you run a company with 1,000 PCs left on overnight, you can save about $28,000 a year if they are turned off after hours. That’s not chump change.”

So, if we were to simplify this in terms of individual computers, if you turned YOUR computer off after hours, your per-year savings on electricity comes out to… $28.

Per year.  About $2.something per month.  Yeah, I’ll spring for that.

Casting aside for a moment the counterarguments that restarting your computer both incorporates a larger use of power than leaving it on AND places strain on the components over time (burnt out lightbulbs, anyone?), plenty of people schedule virus updates, defragmentations, and other more passive tasks when their PCs are “not in use” at night.

Then there’s the sanctimonious comments from the environmentally twitterpated readers who think this gives them license to tell other people how, and apparently when, to use their own computers.  I’m not saying that the power usage isn’t a problem per se, but it’s a miniscule enough one that the idea that one can take this post and use it as a shillelagh to poke their nose in how other people live their private lives is ridiculous, and frankly doesn’t make the shillelagh-wielder look anything but smug and petty.

Bottom line: thanks for the information, and I’ll take it under advisement.  In the mean time, there are more important problems you and I both could be tackling.