The Year in Books

I present the list of books I read in 2006. The 2006 list tops my 2005 list by seven books and I hope to beat/meet this list in 2007! That might prove tricky as both lists are inflated by books I had to read for school. There are no textbooks here, but still, books assigned to me and my various classmates. However, I did actually read these books (being the good nerd I am) and since you can pick them up in a bookstore anywhere, I included them in this final list.

By the way, The best book I read this year had to be Jon Krakauer's Into the Wild, which was the first book that made me cry. Really great read. You should pick it up and cry some too.

ONWARD...

1) The No. 1 Ladies' Detective Agency-Alexander McCall Smith
2) Reinventing Eden-Carolyn Merchant
3) The Club Dumas-Arturo Perez-Reverte
4) Earth Democracy-Vandana Shiva
5) The Lost World-Michael Crichton
6) The Word for World is Forest-Ursula K. LeGuinn
7) Boiling Point-Ross Gelbspan
8) Red Mars-Kim Stanley Robinson
9) The Working Life-Joanne Ciulla
10) Anansi Boys-Neil Gaiman
11) Frankenstein-Mary Shelley
12) Rising Tide-John M. Barry
13) Diamond-Steve Lerner
14) Woman on the Edge of Time-Marge Piercey
15) Neuromancer-William Gibson
16) Resource Wars-Michael Klare
17) The Moon is a Harsh Mistress-Robert Heinlein
18) Cochabamba-Tom Lewis and Oscar Olivera
19) The Time Machine-H.G. Wells
20) Six Modern Plagues-Mark Jerome Walters
21) A Clockwork Orange-Anthony Burgess
22) Burning Rage of a Dying Planet-Craig Rosebraugh
23) Reading Lolita in Tehran-Azar Nafisi
24) How to Breathe Underwater-Julie Orringer
25) Rabbit Punches-Jason Ockert
26) Candy Freak-Steve Almond
27) When the Rivers Run Dry-Fred Pearce
28) The Brief and Frightening Reign of Phil-George Saunders
29) A Friend of the Earth-T.C. Boyle
30) The House on Mango Street-Sandra Cisneros
31) Blackhawk Down-Mark Bowden
32) Out of Eden-Alan Burdick
33) Longitudes-Dava Sobel
34) Mutant Message Down Under-Marlo Morgan
35) Godforsaken Sea-Derek Lundy
36) 10th Grade-Joseph Weisberg
37) The Quality of Life Report-Meghan Daum
38) Ghost Wars-Steve Coll
39) Possible Side Effects-Augusten Burroughs
40) V For Vendetta-Alan Moore
41) Daughter of Fortune-Isabel Allende
42) Hunters of Dune-Brian Herbert and Kevin J. Anderson
43) American Splendor-Harvey Pekar
44) The Poet of Tolstoy Park-Sonny Brewer
45) Galileo's Daughter-Dava Sobel
46) Garbage Land-Elizabeth Royte
47) The Grand Complication-Allen Kurweil
48) Into the Wild-Jon Krakauer
49) Memorias de mis putas tristes (Memories of my sad whores)-Gabriel Garcia Marquez
50) The Real Science Behind The X-Files-Anne Simon
51) Under the Banner of Heaven-Jon Krakauer
52) The Spanish Civil War-Antony Beevor
53) Fahrenheit 451-Ray Bradbury
54) Stiff-Mary Roach
55) In the Lake of the Woods-Tim O'Brien
56) Great Plains-Ian Grazier

HAPPY NEW YEAR 2007 FROM THE FEAR OF THE BLANK PAGE!

A classic

This isn't new. In fact, this story is a bit old. Well, old as in about four years ago. It is the first true piece of creative fiction I produced in this "modern" (i.e., "hey i want to be a writer!") age. I had the inspiration on one rainy Earth Day back during freshmen year in college. It is a science fiction story. It is a genre I like, but don't really feel like exploring as a professional career.

Genre writing always gets stigmatized and in most cases that disdain is justified. There is way too much Star Wars fan fiction out there too not say "science fiction" and not expect some chortle. Trust me. My first piece of creative fiction ever? Well it was a Star Wars fan fiction! Really dumb. Trust me! However, I feel Temperature isn't a genre piece. I stayed in my usual style of hero worship with it and this one has a sword too! You must dismiss the sword as a genre touch. At the time I wrote the first draft of Temperature it had finished Frank Herbert's original Dune arc. Crysknifes are damn cool.

Temperature is about climate change and just a look at a world living in the hyper effects of global warming. Will it be like this? Probably not, but it was fun to play around with the ramifications of possible effects. This is not uncommon in science fiction or even any fiction. Ever see Red Dawn? Oh man, yeah, it's great, but that is what I am talking about. What if scenarios, you see. I also wanted to put this post up because of this story, which broke yesterday. It might seem dinky, but it is important. In fact, it could be landmark, just like the little publicized admission by the Bush administration that human actions do influence climate change. That story seems hard to find online as if it went down the Memory Hole. However, we can preserve this one.

In other news...a team of polar bears is on its way to Michael Circhton's house. Orson Scott Card is next on their list. Reports say both are nervous, particularly Card, who reports Battle School has never had a Polar Bear army!

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Temperature

By Garik Charneco

We were supposed to go to Toronto today and get some wheat, but the Bureau wouldn’t let us. We had used the car too much and exceeded our weekly emission allotment. Ever since the warming began it seemed like we went to Toronto more and more for the stuff. We were going to press, mill, and bake it into bread because we couldn’t grow wheat in our garden. Kelly also said we could not go to the market. “Too expensive,” he said any time I asked him. “And why should we waste our allotment on that? If we are going to make things worse then we should at least have a good reason!” Kelly always called the shots; he was always business. Kelly was made of metal, a man forged for this melting world.

From outside I heard some rustling in the grass. The sound was shifty, furtive and from Belle. Belle was our very lucky “what you could almost call” cow. Belle was pre-Slaughter Act. I forgot what genes were spliced to create her but they kept her estrogen high. Belle endured a constant state of false pregnancy in order to keep the milk flowing.

She meandered up to a window and nudged at the mosquito net. Kelly rolled his eyes and got up. “I thought I told you to tie this netting down?” He elbowed Belle back while tying the drawstrings around some pegs in the wall. “You want malaria or something?”

“Sorry. I wasn’t feeling too hot this morning so I must have forgotten.”

Belle mooed and under the awning’s shade we could see the green iridescence of her fur.

Kelly finished tying off the strings and took a step back. “Jesus, that light thing really creeps me out.” He cocked his head back at me, “Most people just have a dog you know. We can still have those.”

“I think Belle’s fur is beautiful and it is just an identifying feature so farmers could keep track of cattle. For the methane you know.”

Kelly was at the door. “I did complete Bureau training so I do know and I also know how illegal preserving a pre-warming is.” He just cracked the door open and slid one his shoulders into the opening. “I am going to make sure that it is tied up. And in the shed.” He slithered out and I heard him over the footfalls of boots. “We should just get rid of it.”

I looked down and examined the folds in my sweatshirt, trying to think how big it could get. “We’ll need the milk.”

Belle made her angry noise as Kelly grabbed her reins. I didn’t see any of that but I understood Belle. Kelly thundered over the clop of her hooves. “Bureau says that stuff is carcinogenic. An after-effect of those tracker genes. Just another reason to get rid of this.” I heard the shed door creak open and shut.

During lunch Kelly couldn’t eat his stew without bread. We really needed to go to Toronto. Kelly decided to head over to Carlo’s and see if he would lend us his car. Carlo hardly used it since his accident at Old Man Miller’s tree farm.

Hours later Kelly walked in with sweat still clinging to his brow and noticeably angry. “That damn cripple! Carlo doesn’t want anyone touching his car! He’s under investigation for cooling crimes!”

That meant no wheat at all. Most of our garden space was dominated by the plants the Bureau told us to plant, fast growing and pollution tolerant but not very nutritious. The trip north was essential to our food supply and even though our current pantry could get us through the week it would never last us any longer.

Kelly said we had to do something desperate.

“Of course we have to do something desperate,” I whined, trying to keep any sarcasm out of my voice. “We certainly can’t walk all the way to Toronto.” No one would give us a ride and driving beyond your allotted limit was unthinkable. Once you went over the set limit the feedback mechanism kicked in and cut off the power to your car. The Bureau knew all.

Kelly’s eyes flared. “You’re already getting moody and besides I just got a great idea.” He pointed down the road towards the old Miller house. “If we manage to steal one of his sycamores, even just a baby, we could increase our allotment. The Bureau man does his weekly round tomorrow and if we hurry we can do it!”

He ran to the back of the house and soon all I could hear was the cacophony of rusty tools scratching against each other.

The main way to propagate the “cooling,” according to the Bureau, was to plant sycamores. They were our salvation because they were fast growing, pollution resistant, and hungry for the carbon rich air. Every vacant lot or piece of empty space had one and soon it was as common as kudzu vines were to my parents. Planting a tree gave you the extra emissions allotment on your car so you could drive far north enough, where food was plentiful. A sycamore in the backyard was the key to everything like food, travel, prestige, power, and safety. No other tree would do. It was sycamore or nothing.

Miller was lucky enough to be born into money. As a result, his family was able to buy several sycamore seeds when the Bureau first showed up. When the total cooling values for all of their trees were added up they had enough for an entire fleet of cars. They drove whenever they wanted, ate meat everyday, and didn’t have to endure energy rationing. Luxury made them lazy, even too lazy to create anyone to inherit their wealth. In the end it was just Old Man Miller with no kids to assume his botanical fortune. Once he died, other tree barons would swoop in to claim the resources. By stealing one of his saplings we were actually doing him a favor. At least that was what Kelly said while he fought to get the old hand cart out of the garden shed.

“What is he going to do with all those trees anyway?”

I held the door open for Kelly. “Yeah, but it is stealing.”

The cart came rolling out and Kelly rolled it out to a patch of grass. He started hooking on some strips of cloth from the handles. “It all goes to the same cooling. Think like a citizen for once.” He told me to go and fetch Belle since she was pivotal to the operation. It was going to be the whole house tonight.

Even though Miller was our neighbor we still had to walk a decent distance to get to his place. On the way Kelly explained the plan.

“It’s easy enough,” he says. “We hop the fence and grab one of the saplings he always has near the compost.” He pointed backwards, towards the house. “Then we drag it back to the place with the help of Belle here,” he patted her on the shoulder and she gave him on of her unique noises. “Plant it and when the Bureau representative comes tomorrow we get instant access to Toronto.” I nodded.

We saw the first lights of Miller’s house at the end of the road and Kelly began to maneuver Belle off to the side. Once we got to the fence he unfastened the straps that tied Belle to the cart and handed the makeshift reins to me. From his bag there was a brief glint of refracted moonlight as he pulled out a saw and got to work on the wooden fence. I kept a look out.

“Don’t you think we might wake him? He is old but he always has the gun with him. Nearly killed Carlo last year when he tried to steal a seed.” I looked at the house and I was relieved to see no windows lighting up. “And that was just a seed.”

Kelly didn’t even bother to look at up at me and instead he just kept sawing away at the fence. He was through the first beam and began to work on the second one when he answered me. “Old man Miller isn’t going to come out,” he said.

“Why not?” I retorted. He seemed shocked by my lack of faith and it took him a moment to respond.

Curling his lips into a scowl Kelly said, “He is too afraid of the mosquitoes.” His tone of voice reminded me of the way Bureau agents spoke. I mouthed a response but he quickly placed his gloved hand over my half open mouth. “Save it,” and he kept cutting. I feared the mosquitoes too. I mean who didn’t? Malaria seemed like such a foreign thing when my parents were still around but now it was here. And so were dengue, West Nile and the newer ones whose names I couldn’t even pronounce. Even Kelly was scared; he wore a jacket, gloves, and a hat, even though it was summer, just like me. Then again, it was always summer here.

After Kelly was done cutting through the beams he pointed to a spot where there was just enough moonlight to show three neat little holes in the ground. A staked shovel stood there in a mound of fresh dirt. Tiny saplings, maybe four years old, with burlap sacks enveloping their roots stood over the holes. Kelly scrambled over while I kept a look out for anything. I gazed over at Miller’s house and saw that all the windows remained darkened. Kelly inspected the largest sapling and wrapped his hand around the tender wood. In time, the bark would become mottled and tanned but we would only see that happen if we made it out of here. I wished it were older. If it had been just a bit more mature then we could have just stolen some seeds. That would have been good enough. To the Bureau a promise of tree was just as good as a real one.

I made sure that Belle was still fastened to the fence post and then with a final glance at the Miller house I headed into the field. I pushed the cart with surprising stealth and I hoped that he’d noticed that. He grabbed the shovel and jammed it under the bottom of the sack. For a minute or two he fought against the tree’s massive weight and the shovel tip cut the bag open a bit. The sack began to spout off thick dark earth as if it were bleeding. Kelly grunted and struggled with the tree and when I tried to help he ordered me back.

“You think you can lift in your condition!? Just keep a lookout!”

Finally the tree gave way and he was able to prop it up on the edge of the cart. The cart leaned back on its wheels just so that the handles pointed upward like a piece of artillery. Between pants he grunted and after those he wheezed with exhaustion. The looked was ridiculously heavy and dried leaves cascaded onto us whenever Kelly shook it too hard. After many failed attempts I began to doubt if he would ever get it on the cart. I began to eye the other, much smaller, trees. Kelly would never go for that though. I stared at the sweating mass that was next to me and knew that it would never happen. We had to do it his way.

Another huge grunt broke the night air. Belle brought her head up at the noise but at the Miller house the lights remained off. Kelly had finally gotten the tree onto the cart. He latched the gate closed and then slid to the dirt.

“Go…get…Belle,” he said pointing at her shimmering figure. Belle had been chewing happily on grass all that time and gurgled when I grabbed her bit. At the cart Kelly was still spent so he instructed me on how to tie her to the cart. I wasn’t sure if the homemade straps would hold but Kelly had made them.

He got up and had enough energy left to slap her haunch. The crack of flesh on flesh curdled my skin. Belle began to move and the lights stayed off. We managed to inch off the property and down the road with our botanical salvation in tow. When we finally got to our house Kelly tossed me a shovel and said, “What is it at anyway? Five months? You could still dig.” He got up and went into the house. “I am going to take a break and will come back later to finish. Just maybe move the topsoil or something.” He swung the door open, leaving Belle and I in the yard.

The Bureau man showed up early the next day and we still had dirt caked under our fingernails. According to standard protocol a single guard accompanied him. The agent was short and hunched over from years at his desk. Being outside, even in this mess of an atmosphere, must have been a relief. He was new to the area and did not notice that where there was grass last week there now stood a four-year-old tree. Even if he had bothered to look at his meticulously kept and collated paperwork I doubt he would have cared. Progress was progress.

The guard, on the other hand, looked completely at ease outdoors and had probably participated in numerous campaigns against “cooling criminals”. He carried no guns; instead he proudly wore a sword at his hip. Even Kelly didn’t know why they carried such antiquated weapons. He guessed it was the lead in bullets. I was too afraid to ask because I thought it would get me an up-close look.

After gazing at the tree the Bureau man smiled and told his brutish guard to run back to their car and call the dispatch. He whipped out a tiny pocket calculator and furiously entered numbers into it. He calculated the amount of the emissions the tree would remove and how much our new allotment would be. I hoped that it would be enough to get us to Toronto and to food. Kelly kicked a clod of freshly uprooted dirt at my feet and I looked up at him when it hit my boots. He was smiling at me. His smile wasn’t congratulatory, but instead pantomimed “I told you so!” Still, it’s a smile and if my face hadn’t been blood red from all the digging he would have seen my blush.

There was a clanging noise that came from behind the house and a sick gurgling gasp. The grass in the back once again rustled and from behind the house Belle popped out her long brown face. In daylight she looked like any other pre-Warming cow but Kelly still mouthed the words “Oh shit!” I immediately looked at the Bureau man.

The agent wasn’t as angry as I thought he would be but the guard had already laid a hand on the hilt of his sword. To my surprise the impish little man somehow stood up straight and he thundered in an, equally surprising, powerful voice.

“What is the meaning of this?!” he asked.

Kelly looked back at Belle and then quickly at me. I was still shocked at the sound of the man’s voice and my hesitance annoyed him. Kelly rolled his eyes at me and quickly gave the fuming agent a brief wolfish flash of teeth.

“We found this…thing,” he pointed to Belle who was content with her cud, “in the woods out back wandering free and were going to turn it over to you.” He seemed pleased with his handling of the situation and gave me a quick and firm nod.

I wanted to scream, “No! Belle is ours!” I looked at her and when she stared back at me from behind her cud-chewing, brown-eyed gaze, tears started to well up in my eyes. I just put my head down and nodded so quickly that my ponytail flipped up from behind and whapped me in the eyes. Dozens of auburn tips tickled the tears out of my eyes.

Kelly didn’t even bother to look at me and stayed focused on the Bureau man. “Sorry,” he gestured towards me, “just emotional. Really not suited for this world if you ask me.” He then gestured to Belle who was still chewing away. “She’s all yours.”

I opened up one moist eye and peeked out from underneath my drenched sleeve. The Bureau man seemed shocked, but believed Kelly’s excuse. Right now everything in the front yard was a lie and only through tear-drenched eyes could I make it all out.

The agent once again motioned to his guard but this time pointed him forward instead of back. He commended Kelly in a speech that could have been pulled right from the radio ads they ran every night, “You have trapped a truly dangerous animal and done your part for the cooling.” With a flick of his wrist the agent ordered the guard to step forward and the burly man walked toward Belle cautiously as if she were some sort of wild beast. When he reached me I was still all curled up into a ball of goo. He drew his sword and the metallic whisper of the pull brought my glance up. From behind my little water fall I stared right at him and whispered, “Why?”

He looked back at Kelly and the Bureau man but they hadn’t heard it. Kelly was holding up a pink piece of paper in his hands. It was the receipt for our new emissions allotment. The guard looked down again and said, “What is the matter with you babe?” He caught a glimpse of my stomach. “Think of that kid of yours. It’s progress.”

He turned away from me and in a fluid stroke raised the blade. His grace was surprising but the Bureau was just full of surprises. Then with the same dexterity he swooped down and the brown cow from behind the house never saw it coming. It hit her and the only sound was a hideous thump as her body met the ground. The crash kicked up a little breeze and it felt cooler already.

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Recently, I mused deleting this blog too and leave the blog-o-sphere for good. However, I got a positive post on one of my stories! One of the wonderful people at Bookcrossing stumbled across the site and read "Wheeze" and said some nice things about it! YAY! I will stay, but with less bad-snark, more good snark and just more writing. Peace!

Back?

Back in town, but might be absent from the blog-o-sphere for a while. I am seriously job hunting right now and taking advantage of my current half-employment by looking for other jobs. I am also trying to do those New Year's resolutions and read more, write more, and give you better blog posts. So that is my excuse.

But here is something!

Former President Gerald Ford passed away. That's sad, even though I don't much about Gerald Ford. Quite ballsy to accept the loss in Vietnam and then pardon Nixon. However, it does make me think about what will happen when I President I admire passes. I mean what will I do when Jimmy Carter or...say it ain't so..Bill Clinton goes!? I mean, Jimmy Carter, he is so friggin' nice! I wish I was old so I could have voted for him. You always hear guys saying, "I voted for Bush because he looks like a guy I could have a beer with!" Well, I could sit on Jimmy Carter's peanut ranch and drink mint juelps with him all day talking about building houses for underpriveleged people and saying your prayers. I read an article in The New Yorker that Jimmy Carter flies commercial whilst doing his post-presidential business. He gets up and introduces himself to everyone! That is the kind of class I wish I had. I hope I get to meet Jimmy Carter one day on some flight to LaGuardia and provide the flight attendant with the exact change for two mile-high mint juleps.

And what if Bill Clinton passes before I do?! Well, the day that Bill Clinton goes up to the big Arkansas in the sky, they will have to make a law that the word "cool" will no longer be usable. We will instead need to rely on appropiate substitutes like "Boss" or "Airwolf!" Just like weening ourselves of oil, it will be hard at first, but we shall overcome.

But, why would we have to stop using the word "cool?"

Because their is no one, NO ONE, that is cooler than Bill Clinton. NO ONE EVER SO COOL!

Let's all drive down to Jimmy Carter's southern Baptist church and praise the epitome of cool!

Peace!

Holiday Hiatus

Sorry for the two legitimate hiatuses, but I am off to Cleveland, OH to spend Christmas with my lovely girlfriend Amanda and her equally lovely family! No time for blogging there! Only time for fun! Not that blogging isn't fun.

Posting pictures of Daredevil kicking someone in the head?
Mad fun!

All the excitement of Books and Movies (They shall make their second return) I Should Have Already Read/Seem?
Mad fun!

Trying to think up sets of three for everything?
Mad..frustra...err...I mean fun. And pure comic gold.

I leave you with this special holiday themed picture!

Isn't that the fucking most adorable thing you have ever seen!? ISN'T IT!? Not even a panda cub with a Cupid-themed bow and arrow can topple the sheer cute factor of Carson J. Rabbit! Pretty much the greatest Christmas image you'll see outside of a DC Holiday special. Well, except for that bag of garbage in the background. Damn it!Anyway...

MERRY CHRISTMAS AND HAPPY HOLIDAYS FROM CARSON RABBIT AND ALL OF US HERE AT FEAR OF THE BLANK PAGE!

Be back in town on December 26th 2006. Expect more after that day. Peace!

The Villains!

The latest news is that over 28 ner-do well drug thugs have been arrested in Tompkins County! While the New York State Police are quick to take the credit, they know that deep from within that fire station in Cayuga Heights, the CO-OP OF JUSTICE was the real hero today! The public can only think of them as brief images and glimpses in the night. They cannot go public...yet. However, other villains have and now challenge Tompkins County with super crime! WHO ARE THEY!?

Local Color
Real Name: James Frankterw
Age: 53
Occupation: Incredibly frequent poster on the Ithaca Journal's message boards. Fry cook at Mano's. Greeter at Ithaca Wal-Mart, but only on Saturday's!
Powers: The uncanny ability to judge anyone who has "only" lived here twenty years. The ability to stay in the same county for decades on end. "Always" right. Massive personal arsenal of guns and memories of the good days before they let college student into town.
Story: While older than most super villains, Local Color has the power to end any argument by just blasting the opponent with his "Youratransplant" tactic. That or his incredible collection of guns, which are , of course, for personal protection only and his right as an American, damn it! Loves Tompkins County enough to want to build a wall around and keep all the transplants enough, but not enough to pay his taxes. His power is infinite and so is his general befuddlement factor.

Sk8PnkPeeps
Real Name: Various, lead by 26-year-old male named Thrash Rogan (pictured)
Age: Ranging from 18-30
Occupation: N/A, unemployed
Powers: Always surrounded by a cloud of cigarette smokee and body odor. Play a mean game of hackey-sack. Armed with large assortment of chains, paper clips, safety pins, and studded belts. Story: Already having taken over the Center Pavilion of the Ithaca Commons, Thrash Rogan leads his gang of petty thugs in an attempt to take over all the Commons so they can put their cigarette butts wherever they well please! When not trying to bum menthol Newports off each other, the Sk8PnkPeeps try to make up for the lack of racial diversity in Ithaca by trying really hard to be black. However, they fail at that, but not at being criminals that scowl at passerbys!

Frat Man
Real Name: Trevor Steaky
Occupation: Student at Cornell University, Kappa Sigma Thetha president.
Age: 21
Powers: Immune to alcohol poisoning. Can detect and identify any alcoholic substance as long as he taste 50 milligrams of it. Master of drunken boxing martial arts. Anything alcohol related he holds becomes charged with energy. Backed by his dad's trust fund.
Story: Trevor doesn't even know where he is half the time, but as long as dad's keep sending the money and those nerds over in Risley keep writing his papers for him, it's all a big party here in Ithaca! He can will his fraternal power into anything alcohol related object he touches, turning Beast beer cans into literal bombs! Anything he can't get out of is fixed by dad's hedge fund, but is it enough to stop the Co-Op!?

The Abby
Real Name: Amy Ashley Amy
Occupation: Student at Ithaca College, Herald of BIG BOX!
Age: 19
Powers: Flight. Super strength. Limited invulnerability. Energy beam projection. Astral projection.
Story: Imbued with the power BIG BOX, Amy Ashley Amy searches for new local business districts to quench her master's hunger. By day she knows nothing of her exploits and goes around IC wearing her North Face jacket, sweat pants, UGG boots, and aviator sunglasses with pride. But at night she has helped destroy such towns as Brockway, Ogdenville and Northhaverbrook! Is Ithaca next?!



BIG BOX!
Real Name: N/A
Occupation: Eater of local business, destroyer of trade unions, home of bargain deals!
Age: As old as greed itself.
Powers: Always overstocks and undersells! Immunity to psychic control! Price matching welcomed! Flight! Plenty of ample parking! Super strength! LOW PRICES! Invulnerability! A commitment to your community! Energy beam projection! Can insert exclamation points anywhere!
Story: Spawned in post WW2 America, Big Box is always hungry for more growth and more small businesses. Any business will do, but family owned ones spanning three generations do taste the best. His power is near infinite, feed by his enormous profits from his lesser hell-spawn forms. Only his heralds can look at him head-on as they contain a brief portion of his power. He overpowers entire municipalities and now he is looking at Tompkins County!


There you go, loyal fans! Those are the threats, but you have your heroes! PEACE!


Once again, this is all in pure fun. Any resemblances to Silver Surfer, Galactus, Bullseye, and/or Daredevil is celebratory. Also thanks to USA Today, Kate Winslet, and the Vermont Natural Resources Council for not suing. Particular thanks to the JTF for not suing as the look rather..."intense" and probably know Krav Maga. Damn it. Please don't sue! PEACE!

New Year's Resoultions: Early Edition

I am back! And I bet you are starving for a post, eh?! Of course you are! However, I am also short on material, so instead you get the resolution's post a bit earlier than usual!

Here are some of my resolutions for 2007 plus how likely I am to actually fulfill them.

1) Cut back, and I mean WAY BACK, on superhero comic book purchases. In fact, I want to limit myself to buying only a few monthlies and then like one to two trade paperbacks and/or graphic novels. To even further refine the resolution I will definitely stick to Daredevil, Iron Fist, Gen13, Green Lantern, and Green Lantern Corps. I will wrap up the whole Civil War poo-bah and the current Ion 12-issue series as well. Hence, I want to only spend about 25~30 bucks a month on monthlies and then maybe a 12~15 dollar trade paperback. To the non-comic book folks, this still seems like a lot (about $45~$50 a month), but to those in the comic world, it is actually a pretty minor monthly haul.

Possibility: Very high, actually. I enjoy certain characters the most, not just superheroes in general. I adore the whole comic book culture (best defined by the comic blog-o-sphere), but really only need to read those few titles I enjoy. The same thing happens in gaming. You hear me go on and on about GTA and how it is pretty much the pinnacle of digital creation, but not much about other games right? Yeah, exactly.

2) Get S-E-R-I-O-U-S about grad school. This means taking the GRE before the 2008 edition of this post rolls around and getting a list of potential schools going. i already have some and just picked upa nice edition of Poets and Writers that talks about MFA programs.

Possibility: Very high. I already have a list and now the first steps to take. Getting into an actual program will be the hard thing. Paying for it will be even harder!

3) Enter more writing contests.

Possibility: Medium-high. I think I will read more of the writing magazines like the aforementioned Poets and Writers, which always carry those contest listings.

4) Re-read a book for every new one I do read.

Possibility: Yeah, pretty much not gonna happen. I made this resolution last year and got no luck. I still read as much, hell even more, that last year, but it was mostly new stuff.

5) Drink at least one cup of green and/or red tea a day. Because apparently you never die if you do that. The Japanese do this and they have friggin' giant mechs defending them to ensure they never die.

Possibility: This one is also from last year, but I would say success is at medium potential. My current part-time job makes it much easier to get a hand on good teas.

6) Write and read more. Period.

Possibility: Medium-low. I try to do this all the time, but never feel it is close to the uber-amounts any teacher of the crafts tells you to do.

There you go folks! Enjoy that while something else comes your way. Peace!

The Co-op of Justice!

YES! What I believe to have been my best post EVER has returned! To those of you who saw it in it's original version, enjoy this remastered version. To those of you new to the site, well then, ENJOY!

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Even though Farmers Insurance Group of Companies and Best Places rated Ithaca the fifth safest small city in America, the anecdotal evidence was just too much! While Ithacans bravely faced such common ne'er do wells as punk college kids, transplants, and the Commons skater-goths, they now found themselves facing new and terrible threats! Ithaca, NY was being attacked by SUPER VILLAINS! All of Tompkins County was at threat too as they brigands often attacked in the city, only to run to the safety of the hills of Danby or Enfield.

However, these fiends must now face the new heroes of Tompkins County....

THE CO-OP OF JUSTICE

Captain Gorges
Real Name: John "I-Town" Lancer
Age: 30
Occupation: Photographer for the Ithaca Journal (previously), full-time superhero
Powers: At the peak of human physical/mental acumen. Master of six different forms of un-armed combat. Master tactician and leader. Indestructible shield.
Story: Local son, John Lancer, volunteered to be his beloved city's warrior and became Captain Gorges! Born and raised in Ithaca John graduated from Ithaca High School, got his BA in photography from Ithaca College, and then Masters in international affairs from Cornell. He then spent six years traveling the globe, chronicling his journeys in the Ithaca Journal's successful photo-journalism series, Ithaca and the World. However, when he heard of the "rise" in crime in Tompkins County, John felt powerless. The sheriff kept telling him he couldn't just run around the streets being a vigilante! So John volunteered for the dangerous I-Warrior program. There scientists from the Ithaca Brewing Company and the IPD created a super-soldier serum called cascabutttrecassenlight! The serum worked perfectly and made the ultimate human physique and mind. He is as strong, fast, and smart as a human can be without being considered super powered. However, evil agents from the dreaded city of Elmira attacked the secret chemical location and destroyed all the remaining vials of serum. When the cut down the scientists with their fusilades of gunfire, the formula was lost forever. However, John is still in Ithaca, leading the CO-OP of Justice against such villains like The Local, Big Box, and City Dude!

Red Onin
Real Name: Dawn Janson
Age: 20
Occupation: Student, RA at IC's Bogart Hall
Powers: Enhanced senses. Master ninja. Can shapeshift into a cloud of red smoke or a red panda. Carries the enchanted sword, "Enlightened Edge."
Story: A young Asian-American in Tompkins County that does not go to Cornell!? That is just one of the many deceptions that Red Onin uses to defeat her opponents and defend honor.
Her father knew that Dawn was destined to attend Ithaca College and, hence, trained her in the ninjitsu arts so she could best fend off drunks and guys asking why she doesn't go to Cornell. She has enhanced hearing, sight, and smell. She can hear those freshmen down the hall pop open Keystone cans from across the dorm building. She can also hear those cans of spray paint rattle and hiss before the paint hits the Dewitt Park WW2 memorial. This training also awakened her latent abilities to shape shift into a red panda (pictured) or some red smokeke. She is a master swords woman and warrior, often striking without even being noticed.

Duckshot
Real Name: Clancy Hart
Age: 32
Occupation: Brick layer for the Town of Danby
Powers: Crack shot. Can turn any object into a deadly projectile just through the flick of his wrists. Master bar room brawler. Extensive knowledge of conventional ballistics and explosive weaponry. Has a sweet truck, with a winch!
Story: Another local boy with a heart of gold and plenty of love for the TC, Clancy developed his uncanny shot through hunting trips with his father. There he learned to appreciate the beauty of TC and swore to protect it. A former sheriff's deputy who was dismissed for being just too effective, Duckshot has easy access to conventional firepower, which always helps when battling the armed thugs of the Ithaca Bloods and Crips. As long as he can get his hands on something, he is never without a weapon. While not superpowered, his resolve and sweet truck (with a winch!) have helped the Co-Op save the day many a time.

Flutter
Real Name: Sky Tanbrisio
Age: 19
Occupation: Professional volunteer (Fall Creek/Cinemapolis, Ten Thousands Villages, Green Star, TC SPCA, etc.)
Powers: Flight. Ability to manipulate light to create constructs, attack, and/or blind opponents.
Story: After following a strange butterfly into the woods while at Musefest, Sky stumbled upon an ancient glyph of alien origin. She touched it and gained the powers of the ancient astronauts! She is the teams only flyer, making her indispensable for scouting and interdiction. Following the credo of "Think Global, Act Local" she battles social injustice even though the violence leaves her conflicted inside. Her light constructs can take the form of whatever she wishes, but it's usually a butterfly, which is kind of silly, until your realize you just got stomped on by a lavender colored butterfly hologram.

Accolade
Real Name: N/A
Age: As ancient as creation itself
Occupation: Earth elemental
Powers: Ability to create fissures in earth/earth quake generation. Can control plants to do bidding. Super strength. Limited invulnerability.
Story: Jealous that the proposed White Eagle ecovillage in Danby would use geothermal power and, hence, be much more sustainable than them, the first Ecovillage of Ithaca summoned up an avatar to end the geologic activity under Danby. However, when a consensus could not be reached about which field to have the damn seance in, a rouge Ecovillager did the incantation himself. Thankfully his heart, while damn silly, was pure and the resulting creature was good, albeit free of EVI's control. Naming himself Accolade, the elementals power comes directly from the sacred ground of Tompkins County. The group's heavy hitter, Accolade usually smashes his way out of a problem. His only limitation is that his power grows weaker the farther he is from TC, making night time raids into Elmira difficult.

What adventures await them!? Find out here, on the Fear of the Blank Page, official spokesblog for the Co-Op Of Justice.


Disclaimer: I please do hope you realize this is all in good fun. Also, any resemblance to Captain America, Daredevil, Elektra, Bullseye, Hawkeye, Jubilee, Pixie, Vibe, Terra, Green Lantern, Dazzler, The Thing and any other DC/Marvel/comic book characters is done in pure admiration. They own all the rights to these characters and I just use them for fun. I don't make any money of this site. Please don't sue!
Particular thanks to the Lego Group, Doctari Safaris, Intergalactic Rose, Awesome Animals, Australia Plastic Surgery, for not sueing! Peace!

Run for the Border

Apparently, stuff like this happens "all the time" in Tompkins County.

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The blond bartender, the five foot girl with the Wonder Woman t-shirt on, tapped the shoulder of her larger counterpart, a man all the regulars know as Doo Bear. She stood on a crate of spent beer bottles, the glass clinking as she leaned into his ear. Her lips moved and then she pointed to the clock at the top of the bar, above the dusty Galiano bottles unopened in years. Doo Bear nodded and squeezed his way out of the bar and to the whizzing CD player. He smashed the power button and killed the music. Doo Bear then arched his back, taking in air, for an important announcement.
"Last call!" His scream died down and then there was a brief vacuum. The patrons of Snow's mostly headed for the door, slamming down drinks onto tables and stools. A few of the college students in the bar went for those last drinks, which were mostly bottled beers.
"The drafts are broken," said Doo Bear when asked for a pint. "And the liquor's gone. You know, busy night." He wanted to get out and so did the blond bartender, who was wiping down empty counter space.
It was 12:50 am.
At the booth in the farthest corner, Jamie finished the last of the smoke he had snuck during the rush.
Amber plays with her hair and blows an idle strand off her face and over her ears. "1 am, already?"
Kaia rolled the paper wrapper of a straw into a neat little coil and tossed it towards Jamie. It unfurled before hitting him and getting caught in the pocket of his shirt. "Well, I can guess that it wasn't the night I promised." He flicked the wrapper of off him and then jabbed the cigarette stub under the table.
"Yeah," Kaia interjected. "Tell us too meet somewhere on the other side of the city promising the coolest little hidden bar and we get the corner booth under a flickering light."
At that moment, the ceiling light did flicker on and off. "Well, its better, on the weekends. I suggested a Friday, not a Wednesday night."
From across the room Doo Bear shot their table a nasty look. Rich, who had remained quite for most of the night, saw the bartender's glare. "Hey, I think it is closing time." He motioned with his head back towards the bar.
Jamie saw the big man and silently agreed. "Well, fine. I guess we can go." He took one last swig of the gin and tonic he had ordered an hour earlier. It was mostly ice, with just the tint of tangy liquids.
The girls scooted out of the booth with Rich staying close to Kaia.
They left the bar.
It was 12:58 am.

In the parking lot, Amber also lit up a cigarette and then passed a lighter to Jamie. "Fuck. I'm still not drunk. I wanted a good time, Jamie."
Kaia, wiping her glasses with the hem of her shirt, licked her teeth before smiling a sly grin. "Not all of us plan to call in sick tomorrow, Amber. Isn't that like the fourth time this month or something?"
Amber rolled her eyes and took another drag. "Hell, it works. The guys in payroll believe me and that is all the matters. I am getting over mono, if they ever wonder."
"Right, a those amarettos are a great cure, huh?" Kaia flicked her glasses back on. The golden rims reflected Rich's face back at him and he realized he had gotten lost in the little back and forth between the girls. Kaia was still wearing the same skirt she had worn to the office, albeit changing the office jacket for a simple white top. Rich took a deep breath and wished the beers would hit him right now. It was the end of the night. Excited at Jamie's invitation to go out with the girls, he spent the night trying to loosen up and find the right moment to speak up. But now it was the end of the night. He played with some of the lint in his pant's pocket.
Jamie threw his cigarette to the ground. "Hey, well last call isn't till 2am over in Delyle. We can get in the cars and hit up a bar there!"
Amber rose an eyebrow. "Seriously?"
"Yeah, seriously," Kaia retorted. "Delyle is in the next county. You want to drive an extra thrity minutes just for another drink?"
"Of course! There is a bar over the county line, right on 226." Jamie headed to his car with Amber following. She had her own car, but claimed that she wanted to stick together if going that far.
"That far," Kaia muttered and looked over at Rich. Her eyes met dead on with his. "You going?"
Rich wished for the beers to kick in right then and there! To loosen him up. To give him that bravado you see in the movies. He musters, "Um, are you?"
Kaia glanced back at Jamie's car, a shiny little coupe, and saw the rear lights ignite. "I guess, I rode with her here anyway."
"Ok, well then I'm there." Rich feigned a smile and then ran his hand through the back of his hair. Kaia had already begun walking to the car, with Rich following searching for some reflection in the frames of her glasses.

It was 1:06 am.

Rich and Kaia sat in the back of the car, their feet planted amongst the detritus on the floor in the back. Outside the city, the landscape gave up to cornfields and vinyl-siding houses plunked far-off the road and behind neat gravel driveways. Signs for the upcoming sheriff's election lined the shoulders of the road, their contrasting colors leaping out once hit by the headlights. They passed the fish hatchery on the eponymous Fish Road. "Almost there," said Jamie, as the car whizzed by the fiberglass mock-up of a carp.

It was 1:22am.

Another five minutes and they have crossed the county line. Rich had driven this road thounsands of times. In college going to and back home for breaks. During childhood trips to his grandparents and during high school to field trips to the fish hatchery three miles behind them. For some reason, he expected this crossing to be better. That fanfare would greet them as they entered. He knew the county line was marked by a lawn-green sign and a lone carpet store. Once they did cross the line, when the sign saying "Welcome to Catotopo County! Delyle 15" he felt nothing.

He frowned and noticed Kaia looking at him. She smiled and then faked a gagging noise while rolling her eyes and pointing at the driver's seat. Laughing, Rich felt comfortable.

"Hey. What's happening back there?" Jamie asked, his eyes still looking forward for the promised bar.

"Nothing," Kaia answered. "So where is this bar? Wasn't it right past the line?"

"Yeah," Amber chimed in. "Where is it."

Jamie bit the bottom of his lip. He accelerated, taking the car from the comfortable cruising to a controlled dash. "There," he screamed, pointing across the dashboard and slightly swerving the car's headlights to hit a dim sign on the right.

The sign read, "American Legion Post 387 Catotopo-Delyle"

It was 1:30 am.

In the gravel parking lot Rich crushed a bit of rock and rolled them under the heel of his shoe.

"A Legion hall? You were in the army or something, Jamie?" Kaia kept close to the car, leaning against the truck like Rich.

Jamie had already taken a few steps towards the entrance. A rusty anti-aircraft cannon stood next to the door. Someone had hung a sign saying "Open" on the handle of the gear on the side.

"No, but my grandpa did. In Korea." Jamie fished out his wallet and then produced a picture of him, probably back in college, with a much older man at his side. The man wore an olive green jacket, emblazoned with colorful patches on the side. He also wore a hat. It said Legion on it, but you could not make out a post number. Jamie wore a suit. Rich even thought it was the same on he had on right then. "That is enought to get me in. You know, the grandson of a Legionnaire." He mozied towards the dilipidated weapon. Amber followed, staying very close to Jamie.

At the entrace by the gun, men poured out of the hall, all in different clothes, but all wearing faded caps with gold trims and logos that still shone gold.

Jamie only noticed Amber behind him. He turned back to see Rich and Kaia still leaning against the trunk. "Hey," he said through cupped hands around his lips. "You guys coming?"

For a moment it was quiet, the kind of vaccum that Doo Bear had created back in the bar. Kaia shook her head and the tips of her hair grazed the side of Rich's cheek. "No. You can go get that one last drink. I'll wait."

Jamie rolled his eyes. "Fine, whatever." He looked at Rich. "And I imagine you will want to stay too?"

Rich nodded. "Yeah. I'll be with her."

Jamie shrugged his shoulders and grabbed Amber by the hand. They turned their backs. "Fine, fuck it. We'll be back by closing time."

They passed the gun and swung open the door.

It was 1:37 am.

"What do you think will happen?" Rich stopped playing with the gravel and looked at Kaia.

"To him?" Kaia motioned over to the hall. "Probably get his ass kicked and one of us will have to drive back."

"Yeah, probably."

Kaia balled her fingers into a loose fist and tapped Rich on the shoulder. "Glad you stayed and that your not an idiot like them." She looked at him directly, grinning and leaning towards him.

He saw her eyes and forced a laugh out of him. Rich began to play with the gravel beneath his feet again. "Oh, sure. No problem." He motioned to the hall and the rusty gun. "He is an idiot."

A man appeared from behind the car and ambled past them. He wore olive slacks and a blue on red plaid shirt. He had no cap on, which revealed a faint halo of hair right above his ears and the rest of his bald head. He wore dozens of lapel pins on the pocket of his shirt. While he had put some distance between himself and the car, he had noticed Kaia and Rich and the two individuals who had just walked into the hall, one wearing a cheap suit from six year ago and the other a ruffled skirt with a rhinestone decals.

The vet glared at them. Rich remembered the same kind of glare his own grandfather used to give kids that would read the magazines at his newstand, but never buy them. The old man was saying nothing to them, but still communicating. The silence only made the stare down all that more awkward. It wasn't innocent. It wasn't a man just losing time in his own thoughts, because Rich knew that ruffled glare, the kind of look accompained by controlled breathing.

Remembering his grandfather's own look he crept closer to Kaia. He wanted to keep being there for her, even though he had no real reason why. They were just co-workers. But as the angry vet just kept glaring at them he wanted to be close, ready to embrace her and keep her away from grizzled codgers and oafs like Jamie.

Kaia straigthened up and got herself off the car. She returned the old man's look. The silence only got quieter.

Rich, expecting something to happen, crept closer to Kaia and felt his thigh press against hers. He hoped she noticed, but realized that she had probably continued to stand her ground.

The old man then gave up. Rich saw him shaking his head as his footfalls got quieter in the distance. When the old man had gone through the door Kaia did not pull away from him.

It was 1:51 am.

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I have just now realized that pretty much most of my stories have the "stronger person-weaker person" motif to them. Any one who has gotten to know me, also knows that I am prone to hero worship and that I pick up favorite authors/heroes/awesome people pretty easily. I could say more to this. I am happy that I have a motif that just developed, instead of me trying to shoehorn it into my writing.

Originally, I wanted all of them to go into the bar and then that the situation would get a little hairy with between the whipper-snappers and the Legion hall guys. I was going to have Kaia actually go to Rich for some solace/protection when the whole fight happened, but then I realized that: A) That is pretty hackneyed and B)It would not fit Kaia's image as the strong character. Of course, I realize these characters are pretty much one-dimensional. However, in her one dimension, Kaia is the strong one.

Apologies near the end with all the paragraph breaks. Blogger does this annoying thing sometimes where it decides to do whatever the hell it wants. One of the drawbacks, I guess. Another drawback is that the Google folks could just shut down this service anyday and I would lose all these little musings! However, rest assured they will be backed up a plenty!

Finally, to dismay the "rigtheous" fury of any neo-con that might stumble across this piece and see that I mentioned war veterans without the "necessary" gratitude statements. This piece was not meant to offend anyone, particularly those in the miliary. I would imagine that guy's in the American Legion would not take kindly to some bratty kids busting in on their hall so that they can get one more drink. I don't think any organization would enjoy that, be it the American Legion or the the local church bingo team. I used the Legion Hall because I wanted to highlight Jamie's crassness and also because the Legion hall in the town where I am from (i.e. environmental influences) is situated at a similar place, smack in the middle of nowhere at the county lines. Hence, this is not a piece about veterans or war. It is a piece about some 20-somethings out for fun and realizing they have little in common but the office they work at. Or at least, that is what it is in my head!

Peace!

Off Topic Time

Yes, the first off topic post hear on the now amalgamated blog. Rest assure, it shall be good. Ok, well, maybe not good, but still, it shall be something.

I went on and on about how much I loved Daredevil in my previous blogs. Once I decided to come out of the comics closet I latched onto that one hero. I always liked my superheroes to only be a tad super powered. I think Spiderman is the most super powered a hero can get for me. And Daredevil is just cool. The entire red-suited look and the how he could be so brooding and intimidating, yet not defined by fear, like Batman. In fact, DD is "the man without fear." I haven't read any of the Frank Miller DD yet, which most consider the best and what defined the modern character. I do look forward to that, reading those back issues I mean.

The whole point of that love fest was that I tended to stick more with Marvel comics because of just the hint of super poweredness in their guys. Yes, they have guys like Thor and Dark Phoenix who can shatter stars or something but they don't have walking deus ex machina's like DC (I am talking about you Superman!). Of course, I had to respect the DC for their contributions to overall American culture (As much as I love DD, he is not an American icon like Superman, Batman, Wonder Woman, etc.).

You know how you always had like that one religious friend who would sometimes just get curious and want to go see what the other folks were believing. Or how you just have to break down one day and take a peek at some Ann Coulter articles? Yeah, curiosity.

Well, I might not like the sheer overpowered-ness I feel comes from DC and I might cringe at guys able to move planets, but I have to admit that I have given to one hero at the "Distinguished Competition."

Green Lantern

Yes, I understand the GL is pretty much the opposite of DD. You go from a guy who is just a ninja with super senses and a law degree to a dude (or series of dudes) with the most powerful weapon in the universe. I gave in to my GL curiosity by reading the landmark Green Lantern:Rebirth, where DC brings back the original GL (Hal Jordan) after they had killed them off in 1994 and replaced him with the (pictured above, Kyle Rayner). GL:R has been the only comic to date (and I will admit my actual reading of comics is fairly new) that really held me there. If these are supposed to be true stories worthy of inspiring and amazing us then this is the only one I have read so far. I couldn't put it down and re-read as soon as I had turned the last page of my handsome trade paperback. I really do hope to re-create that experience with other comics. To the non-comic oriented, think about the first time you saw your favorite movie. And I mean favorite movie. The kind of movie that made you want to rewind the damn thing and watch it all over again. With me, it was Fight Club. Or that album that you just had to listen too all over again. You can also imagine this with a song. For me, the album was the Beastie Boy's Hello Nasty and the song was Jimmy Eat World's "Disintegration." The book that you just had to talk to someone about or start reading all over again! For me, it was Ender's Game. If you haven't had experiences like that then I suggest you start absorbing more and more until you have those jaw droppers that make you want to devour the entire piece.

Why Kyle Rayner above instead of the iconic Hal Jordan? I guess I just like Kyle better. I also like those everyman heroes (ex. Spiderman) who get handed these powers. DD is kind of like that too, but I will spare you my analysis of his origins. I am reading the current GL run with Hal Jordan as the hero and he is cool, but Kyle just seems like the GL I would have grown up with if I had succumb to the comics bug earlier.

Ok, well, that's that. Two favorite heroes. There we go. Now, let's try to keep them at that. I am way to poor to be buying shit loads of monthlies. Seriously, wait for the New Year's Resolutions post for more of that.

Want something non-comics related. Well, here you go, but it's short...

Anyone who knows me also knows that I don't really believe in God. Not that I don't believe in something else beyond this plane, but that this all powerful being sitting up in the skies telling us what to do through old books and secret societies never seemed appealing. I won't be some wishy-washy kid and call myself agnostic or anything. I am an atheist in God, but a believer in the wonderful. I mention this because there are those rare times that I would like to believe that there is a God and a heaven and a hell, where people can either celebrate or suffer. This is one of those times.
Pinochet escaped humanity's judicial system long enough and it is comforting to think that in the afterlife he will meet the final judgment for his crimes. Like one reader on the BBC News site said, "The CIA, however, lives on..." So does Henry Kissinger. So does September 11th 1973.

Pinochet is not without his supporters. Many see him as a figure that saved Chile from communism and turned them into a vigorous Latin American state. Growing up, our front door neighbor was a political refugee from Chile who had fled the Pinochet coup. He certainly had no love for the man. Just as anti-communists say that Mao's Great Leap Forward and Stalin's controlled starvation of the Ukrainians can't justify the Great Leap Forward and rise of the Soviet Union, then the Pinochet supporters can't support their claims on the bones of 3,000 people. In fact, waging war on your own citizenry and murdering 3,000 of them should never justify a political action, be it from whatever angle of the spectrum.

There was a certain poetry to his death with today being International Human Rights Day. A BBC reader in Puerto Rico (Yay!) also pointed out that a giant rainbow crossed his/her part of San Juan when he/she heard of the death.

It's a shame he lived to 91 when men who created peace (like MLK Jr.) are gunned down in their middle age. Also a shame that he dies surrounded by his family.

Monster or hero? It depends on who is talking. Murderer? Well, of course he was! If there is a God, then maybe that is the last bit or irony here.

Peace!

A thing about houseplants

Anyone who knows me also knows that I have a fondness for house plants. It is important to know that this does mean I am any good with houseplants. I just really like and can't say no to any offer. One of the local supermarkets here in town is having a going out of business sale and they still have some plants to sell. I think I might go on the last day and save them. I would consider this a charitable cause at a 25% discount to boot! It being close to Christmas, the store still has plenty of Christmas Cactus plants left. I already have two of the things and maybe in a few days I will have more. We shall see. I once wrote a paper about houseplants for a nature writing course I took. I didn't include Christmas Cactus in the mix becaue I didn't have one at the time, but here is a go! With pictures too!

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The phrase "emerald necklace" sounds perfect for describing the Christmas Cactus. Flat little ingots of waxy green link to each through frail tendons at the end of each segment. Is each of these segments a little leaf that make up the arm like branch? Or is the cactus freed of any sort of botanical taxonomy?

I think of it as a freak plant, the botanical equivalent of a double agent. The ovoid segments feature tiny spurs along the side, a sort of teeth to each segment. This is certainly quite cactus like, albeit less menacing than the hedgehog exterior of something like a barrel or melon cactus. They remind me of shark's skin and the way that you can get pricked if you rub them the wrong way.

So, that is one point for the cactus label. The Christmas cactus has pointy leaves. Cactus.

However, the Christmas cactus originates from the highlands of Brazil, where it lives strapped to tree branches in a rain forest. Yes, a rain forest. This cactus likes water and droops when dry, a time where all other cacti stand strong. Forget double agent, the Christmas Cactus is more like a penguin. Both defy their genera prototypes and both live in mind boggling harsh environments. And a pegnuin's feathers are like the Christmas cactus' spines. Both seem almost vestigial and tacked on. I am reminded of the dusty tweed jackets restaurants sometimes keep on hand in case some gentlemen forgot the dress code.
"I am sorry sir, but we do have rules. You will have to wear this jacket."
Did the Christmas cactus face such an embarrassing adventure. Did it take fellow Christmas plant Poinsettia out on the botanical town on night? Did it take it to the swanky Saguaro restaurant, where, a wizened Old Man Cactus maitre d' told him, "Ah...um...well...we have rules here and if you want to be with us well then you must wear the spikes. Here, we keep some ones on hand for situations like this. Yes, they are bit rudimentary, but, well, here you go."

However, like a cactus, the Christmas Cactus puts out incredible blooms worthy of the wait. My cactus is just now putting out salmon colored petals. They remind me of the pickled ginger that comes with sushi. Anyone who has ever wondered about how a child can be so stupid to put a colorful marble in their mouth must have never really looked at a flower. The way that the petals on the Christmas cactus appear so complex from afar, but prove silky thin once held only enhance the fascination. The entire plant actually looks quite alien. There is no stem or trunk to imagine. Just a tangled burst of segments coming from a divot in the soil. But the petals are appetizing, fleshy, but still botanical and leafy. The blooms always feel heavy and damp as if just showered by a drizzle. Our Christmas cacti are not ture wild ones. Maybe in the wild the flowers feel much different, because I imagine the feel of these domesticated flowers come from the cactus making up for the lack of rain inside the well-lit homes and snowy window sills of America.

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Really didn't know where I was going there. I think the antropomorphizing was a bit too much, but still just plain fun. If I was going to really go with this piece then I would pick one angle and run with it.

Wacky houseplants living in a world? Or purple prose with lots of big words? Do I want Veggie Tales or NOVA? We shall see.

Peace!

And there was one

Readers of my new-old blog will have probably noticed it is is down. It is down for good so this is the final time you will hear about the BOP. I committed a big blog error and thankfully escaped the worst of it. The blog, however, did not. It was fun for the 1.5 years I had the BOP and it will be fun here too, albeit in a much safer manner.

There will still be snark. But when I do a snarky post it will be done well with some actual effort going into the humor. Instead of just cruising the old Ithaca Journal for some Spencer-Van Etten town briefs to snark at, the funny will come with a bit more context and thought put into it. Remember the Sundae War post? And the one about the Co-op of Justice? Yeah, like those. So the funny will get funnier. However, it will just be less frequent. You know when a blogger that blogs about nothing except, oh, I don't know, food, and he/she goes off one something else in post? You know how they usually label those "off-topic?" Well like that.

So what can you see here now on the all-alone Fear of the Blank Page. Well, more about what I actually wanted to do when I signed on for this whole blog thing. Trying to write something and discussing writing and books.

So, here we go, again. To those few loyal readers around since day one, thank you so much for staying with me and putting up with this nonsense. To those that stumbled upon this through Goggle or Blogger, welcome and I hope you dig it.

Think about it this way...Remember when the IAU declared that Pluto was no longer a planet and we all got bummed? And remember how we all rallied and said, "Well, its not a planet anymore, but it's still there and it's still our memories! Pluto shall live!" YEAH! Think about it that way.

Or like when the McRib comes back!
Or like when your favorite superhero goes back to his original costume after strapping on some armor flim-flam the editors thought would be cool!
Or when George Lucas re-re-released the old Star Wars movies so that Han shot first!

Yeah, like that.

Peace!

Books I Should Have Already Read #1

Here it is! Here is some snark to follow those books that I should have already read. Those books in our collective cultural medium. Those books we reference in casual conversations. Those books that become crappy movies. Books like...

Books I Should Have Already Read #1

Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury

As I went to the Baldwin School of PR it makes perfect sense that I did not get this book assigned in high school. Like any other good high school, Baldwin disdains actual thought in favor of compliance, but they have the private school dollars to make it happen!

I had seen the classic 1966 movie in college and was surprised to see the movie mostly follow the book's plot.

Oh, a quick aside, since most of books that will be reviewed as a part of this series are classics, please keep in mind that there are people who have done much better studies/reviews of these books. Don't expect English papers here.

I am always surprised that any book that somehow deals with the future is automatically labeled science fiction. There is very little sci-fi stuff here, particularly when we read it 50-plus years past its publication. Wouldn't have academia realized by now that Bradbury's focus was the issue itself and not the presence of "robotic bank tellers" (ATMs) and interactive television (I guess you can put TIVO here).

The book is pretty low on physical description, which I often find weird when describing a future world. However, other classic dystopia novels (ex. 1984, Brave New World) also follow the same succinct descriptions. Bradbury does whip out the prose when he talks about sensations and experiences, particularly the destruction of books by fire. Even in this future land, everything is very non-technical, with most of the the high-tech devices bearing animal names. There is a eerie scene at the beginning of the book where a stomach pump is described in purely animal ways (i.e. the snake that sucks the green poison out of you).

Montag (the protagonist) doesn't really come off the page, but he does change as a character. He goes from complete book burning fireman to book lover. Considering the brevity of the book I think his change of colors came a little too quick, but he did meet some alluring characters. Also, as books were prohibited then their allure intensified. Maybe he had just held off too much.

I don't think we read this book because it is vivid or run. We read it because its message has only gotten stronger. A character in the book mentions how the ban on books began with just a few edits here and there. If a vocal minority (I'm looking at you family values people) just snip out a book or two then why not just ban the whole thing? School districts ban The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn because one of the lead characters in it is called "Nigger Jim." Of course, it doesn't matter that Huck cares for Jim and considers him an equal traveling companion. We kill the whole thing for one issue. Bradbury has a nice afterword (in my edition, which is not the same as the one pictured above) in the book where he talks about this very same thing. He refers to people trying to censure his writing by saying, "All you umpires, back to the bleachers. Referees, hit the shower. It's my game. I pitch, I hit, I catch. I run the bases. At sunset I've won or lost. At sunrise, I'm out again, giving it the old try."

Ray Bradbury is sick tight!

Peace!