Enough about you...

Happy 4th! Let's Blow Something Up!

jdfin2@hotmail.com — Fri, 04 Jul 2008 15:19:14 GMT

Click Tower blowup 1 or Tower blowup 2 for different views of the demolition of the Gettysburg National Tower, former home of the "BattleCam"©.

Tower Blowup 1 -- Distant Shot

Tower Blowup 2 -- Zoom Shot

These brief videos always remind me of the destruction of one of the Martian tripods in Wells's War Of The Worlds. Too bad all our wars can't be imaginary.

Madam Marie

jdfin2@hotmail.com — Wed, 02 Jul 2008 17:18:18 GMT

I'm originally from NJ and saw Springsteen in concert multiple times (perhaps the best rock shows I ever saw -- and I saw Hendrix, The Doors, etc.) so I found this interesting, not realizing that there was an actual flesh-and-blood Madam Marie, a character "The Boss" sings about in 4th Of July, Asbury Park (Sandy).

Hummmhmmmmmhmmmmmhummmmmhmmmmmm...

jdfin2@hotmail.com — Mon, 30 Jun 2008 10:09:03 GMT

The White Stripes And Citizen Kane

jdfin2@hotmail.com — Fri, 27 Jun 2008 08:09:55 GMT

The Union Forever

Great Story "A Blonde for Onion" by Kristin Fouquet at Outsider Writers

jdfin2@hotmail.com — Thu, 26 Jun 2008 06:07:52 GMT

"A Blonde for Onion", a story about graphic novels, writers, artists and the price of fame is up at Outsider Writers.

It is by up and comer Kristin Fouquet, a resident of The Big Easy whose writing has as much soul as her city.

A Blonde for Onion

Happy Bloomsday!

jdfin2@hotmail.com — Tue, 17 Jun 2008 03:27:50 GMT

"At a time like this you were fortunate if, like me, you had a brother named Malachy who owned a bar called the Bells of Hell. On my way to West 13th Street I passed other bars where grown men and women cried out piteously for a beer, a gin and tonic, anything, anything that splashes in a glass with a tinkle of ice. Oh, ice above all on this hot 13th of July, the 114th anniversary of the Draft Riots of 1863 when the Irish (my people) tried to burn the city to the ground.

Candles already flickered along the bar at the Bells of Hell and Malachy was praised for his foresight in having such a plentiful supply. He smiled and his regular customers smiled because they knew of Malachy's turbulent relationship with Con Edison, that from time to time he was a little tardy meeting the bill. He proved you can run a bar on candles and borrowed ice though you wouldn't want to make a habit of it. Newcomers to the bar that night remarked on how charming the place was and the regulars smiled and drank the beer that, sadly, was turning warm."

Frank McCourt NY Times Aug 15, 2003

#

From Novel With Working Title St. M. by J.D. Finch June 16 2008

St. M. and I walked into the bar that was candle-lit and a bit warm in that there was no air conditioning on this warm June day.

Yo, Mike! shouted St. M., you’ve neglected to pay the electric again have ya?

Oh, shite, M., said the bartender/owner. The only thing that worries anyone here is last call and closing time. Do you think they give a shite if the stout is a tad warm?

St. M. chuckled and allowed for how he guessed they didn’t give a shite and proceeded to take us through a curtain that separated the main bar from a private area, where there was a group of men listening to another man, who was reading something.

That’s Mick McCabe, said St M. I’ve brought ya here to show you how real writers get along.

But I get along, I told him. And I’m a real writer.

Bullshite, said St M. If you were the real thing, ya wood'na been reading that damn phony writin' book this morning.

I supposed he had me there: I should have been well past that sort of novice stuff. Still I did have my honor.

But they write about Joyce in it.

I didn’t say it loud, but the word Joyce was picked up by some sort of Irish writer sonar that all at the table possessed. The reader stopped; the listeners put down their Guinnesses. Their previously mellow sleepy eyes widened to the size of coasters.

Now boyos, take it easy. The kid here was just talkin’. Didn’t mean to lessen yerselves by mentioning “Himself”, said St. M.

They seemed to be satisfied with this explanation, and didn’t say hello to St. M., simply accepting his presence, while acting as if his companion -- the utterer of the name that was to them a self-contained, complete-unto-itself vow -- didn’t exist.

Desolation Row

jdfin2@hotmail.com — Sat, 14 Jun 2008 04:40:35 GMT

"All these people that you mention
Yes I know them, they're quite lame
I had to rearrange their faces
And give them all another name."

Bob Dylan

Surf! It's the law!

jdfin2@hotmail.com — Wed, 11 Jun 2008 16:50:22 GMT

Sad

jdfin2@hotmail.com — Mon, 09 Jun 2008 22:02:56 GMT

If you take a look at the icon accompanying this post you will see where I live, in Brattleboro Vt. I live within the blue square, just off West River Rd, which you can see going north-south in the picture. I live on the west side. US Route 91 is viewable outside my kitchen window, though it's distant enough -- about a quarter mile -- that the traffic noise is not a bother.

About a half hour ago my dog Jasper, an Australian Shepherd went to the door at an uncharacteristic time. I was involved in work on my computer and wasn't paying attention to my environment outside of ten foot radius. And there are big evergreens between me and the road; so I didn't notice the police cars stopped out in from of my house. There were more vehicles under the Rt 91 overpass. I went down to the road where emergency vehicles and fire trucks whipped past me. Up on 91 I saw more police vehicles and police looking down at the river and I knew -- a jumper. It's happened before here, before my time here. But that time was in the winter.

I crossed the street to see if there was anything to see. There wasn't really -- the river bends slightly and I couldn't see what the police and rescue people might have been doing. Thankfully, I suppose.

And finally: I've had that icon above sitting in my "My Pictures" folder for a year or so and just added it about a week ago. Suddenly I feel like I'm in a Ray Bradbury story.

(Update: It was a man from New Hampshire in his early thirties. He died at Brattleboro Memorial Hospital about two hours after he was pulled from the river. Police had arrived on the scene after passing motorists had noticed him on the edge of the bridge. They tried to talk him down, but without success.)

What Scalzi Said...

jdfin2@hotmail.com — Sun, 08 Jun 2008 18:17:41 GMT

Although he sometimes pours on the earnest sauce a bit too heavily for my taste, I found this part of his post-Hillary statement good.

"I personally leaned toward Obama in this contest fairly early on (I think Edwards was marginally closer to my own most perfect candidate this time around, but that was pretty much a non-starter), but as I also mentioned, as far as these leading candidates went on the Democratic side, there was no real downside for me. I would have quite happily voted for Clinton if it had gone her way, not only for her own policies and qualities, but also simply to watch conservative heads explode at the idea of the Clintons setting up shop at 1600 Pennsylvania again. There’s not enough Schadenfreude Pie in the world for that sort of event."

http://scalzi.com/whatever/?p=850

And like Hilary, they will not run...

jdfin2@hotmail.com — Sat, 07 Jun 2008 07:38:51 GMT

Zombie Meme*

jdfin2@hotmail.com — Sat, 07 Jun 2008 05:53:27 GMT

You are in a mall when the zombies attack. You have:

1. one weapon.
2. one song blasting on the speakers.
3. one famous person to fight alongside you.

* Weapon can be real or fictional; you may assume endless ammo if applicable. Person can be real or fictional.

1. Decapitator-O-Matic
2. Walking After Midnight -- Patsy Cline
3. Jessica Simpson -- It is better to look good than to fight good.

*Ripped off from any number of geeks you might find around here.

Man of domestic bliss

jdfin2@hotmail.com — Fri, 06 Jun 2008 09:50:19 GMT

155

As a 1930s husband, I am
Very Superior

Take the test!

Ripped off from buymeaclue

Before the last flight of the Winnie Mae

jdfin2@hotmail.com — Sun, 01 Jun 2008 02:24:24 GMT

Will Rogers, renowned sled dog racer Leonhard Seppala* and aviators Wiley Post and Joe Crosson, pictured just before Post and Rogers took off on the last flight either of them would make. (Postcard, privately produced by Seppala is from the Whirligigzine Collection.)

* When an outbreak of diphtheria occurred in Nome in January 1925, temperatures ranging down to -50F along with 80mph winds meant that the primitive air transport of that day would not be able to deliver the needed medicine. Instead, the serum was carried by rail from Anchorage to Nenana and relays of dog teams were sent the remainder of the way -- 674 miles. After only five and a half days, Gunnar Kaasen -- with a dog named Balto leading his team -- was the last relay driver into Nome. Kaasen and Balto captured most of the media attention at the time, and in the aftermath of the hoopla, a statue of Balto was erected in New York City's Central Park. However, Leonhard Seppala's team traveled 340 miles out from Nome and back through the most treacherous sections of Alaska's wilderness, including across the perilous ice of Norton Sound, and carried the serum over 91 miles of the relay route. (Seppala's lead dog was the famous racing champion, Togo.) In comparison, most other drivers in the Serum Run covered approximately 50 miles. Both Kaasen and Seppala used teams of Siberian Huskies. This emergency delivery, also known as the "Great Race of Mercy", is commemorated annually with the Iditarod Trail Sled Dog Race.

Wikipedia

The One About Fantasy & Science Fiction Magazine July 08

jdfin2@hotmail.com — Wed, 28 May 2008 21:00:16 GMT

Ok, I may be late to the party, but I'm here. As this is the type of publication I don't read in one sitting, I will not blog about it in one post.

This post is part of the "we'll send you a free copy if you blog about the mag" deal. I'm aware that this is an old ploy in the biz and was going on pre-blogs when publishers would send out freebies for fanzine attention and word of mouth buzz.

Funny, but I realized I hadn't picked up a copy of this mag off the newsstand in over ten years. So the mere fact that it arrived in my mailbox and conjured a nostalgic feeling about pulps past was good. It looks like it hasn't changed at all, except for the price, which I won't mention but seems high when slick mags like Entertainment Weekly are offering me a "We want you back" deal at $10/year. Whatever. The vicissitudes of publishing are mysterious to me and I'm sure F&SF has to charge the price it does which will prohibit me from ever ordering a subscription. It's a freakin' pulp, for the love of Ford! Even their sub deal for bloggers is more than I am willing to shell out.

Anyway, oddly enough I always read the nonfiction parts of these mags first, so I've thus far read the book review and film columns. The book column reviews the Vandermeer's New Weird antho., and what I took away from it is: it's pretty much the same old wine in new bottles. The other review in the column is dragon related and I'll admit that when it comes to the stuff in Fantasy & Science Fiction I am almost completely interested in only the SF.

The movie column by one Kathi Maio I found disappointing for the simple reason that it seemed a lot of space was wasted on a film (Jumper) that got pretty universally panned. Maio hates it too -- at a greater length than my interest could keep up with. It has always seemed to me that a simple warning that a movie is bad (with a few illustrative points) should suffice; then one can get on with describing good films that we should see, at a bit of length. But the writer here also brings a prudish quality to the review, tsking various sexual elements of the film and more or less bringing a spoilsport quality to things. (A few admonishments on the order of "he could have been saving the world but he was off drinking martinis and having sex!" turned me right off and made me wonder if the writer was grandmotherly.)

Still as one who has followed the SFF world with varying degrees of intensity over the years I find a tinge of prudishness interesting in a review in F&SF, as one of the things I recall about the mag in the old days was the lack of any forward thinking attitudes about sex or sexuality (I know, this is a criticism of a lot of older days' SF). But I'm sure I detected a musty smell here, that others who are part of this "read and blog deal" have complained extends to the fiction in the mag.

I'll let you know what my take is in a later entry here.

(UD: Editor Gordon Van Gelder notes the above at http://www.sfsite.com/fsf/blog/forum/topic.php?id=25&page=2)

What Me Worry?

jdfin2@hotmail.com — Mon, 26 May 2008 16:23:16 GMT

You know, I would sort of freak out if anybody in today's political sphere started looking like the evil mother of the vice presidential candidate's stepson in the Cold War political paranoia flick The Manchurian Candidate, from the novel by Richard Condon.

Played by Murder She Wrote and Sweeney Todd's Angela Lansbury, who made her debut a hundred years ago in Gaslight and soon thereafter The Picture Of Dorian Gray, (talk about being in dark entertainments!) Lansbury plays the mother who works for evil minions of a government that looks a hell of a lot like China's. (Oh yeah -- the title.) She grooms her son to be the assassin that will shoot the presidential candidate, so that her complicit puppet of a husband, the vice presidential candidate, can steal the presidential nomination, literally over the dead body of the man who was to be his running mate.

What a wacky fantasy...Luckily people don't even think about assassination in these days of increased security and rainbow colored alerts -- do they? And they surely don't bring the topic up as a talking point in the midst of the most important political race in the land. Right? No, of course they don't. And if they did it would be in incredibly bad taste, wouldn't it? Yes. Yes, it would be. Incredibly bad.

One of these days Alice -- to the moon!

jdfin2@hotmail.com — Fri, 16 May 2008 04:50:55 GMT

J.D. Finch (not verified) says:

Mr. Sicha is apparently in thrall to the spirit of Nathanael West. West presented the world of freakish journalism (Miss Lonelyhearts), as well as the all-consuming worship of celebrity (Day Of The Locust) that ultimately destroys. Unfortunately, while an earlier day's journalist could see the difference between the real importance of literary accomplishment, as opposed to writers as culty celebrity figures, Sicha conflates the two areas, with the result that a writer, not the work, becomes the commodity.

(As for his considerations of gender among modern and pomo scribes, he starts out strong, using proper female touchstones Adler, Malcolm, Didion, etc., though to weak effect, as his argument ultimately peters out (pun intended) with J.T. Leroy. This after he has even dragged Salinger in as a straw man. Presumably he sucks because he got all manny with female writer Joyce Maynard when she was THE chick in lit? (How about a little explanation of motivation Mr. Sicha?)

And although I think it unfair to criticize him for his gossip column roots, it is fair to point out how he gauges literary importance according to an elemental urge (a substitute for fucking), a sort of lit libido, rather than based on a considered act of creation and the commerce that ensues.

In short, this piece by Mr. Sicha misses the mark as the writer never realizes the simple fact that "It ain't the meat, it's the motion."

May 15, 2008 11:21 PM

What Ho!

jdfin2@hotmail.com — Sat, 10 May 2008 21:54:18 GMT

Your Score: Othello

You scored 39% = Tragic, 55% = Comic, 27% = Romantic, 39% = Historic

You are the Tragedy of Othello: the Moor of Venice. Set in the beautiful "city on the sea", Othello tells the story of a Moorish general and the disastrous consequences that arise from jealousy and lies. What your score tells us about you is that you are most likely a very cunning person, who is able to get people to do what you want. People come to you for sage advice, and to confide in you their deepest secrets. Always the opportunist, you may, however, exploit this fact if an opportunity presents itself for your own personal gain. You're not all bad, though. Like Othello, you are probably very devoted to your friends and family and most likely very courageous. While a bit of an outsider, you are able to gain people's confidence and admiration. We certainly admire you!

Link: The Which Shakespeare Play Are You? Test written by macbee on OkCupid Free Online Dating, home of the The Dating Persona Test
View My Profile(macbee)

(Thanks to mssrcrankypants)

Dylan with a schmear of Kinky

jdfin2@hotmail.com — Thu, 08 May 2008 04:31:55 GMT

With Steampunk making it to the front page of the NY Times...

jdfin2@hotmail.com — Thu, 08 May 2008 01:04:57 GMT

...I guess it's safe to declare the trend officially "5 minutes ago."

Click here to see the story.

Science Fiction Genre Destroyed By Sex!

jdfin2@hotmail.com — Thu, 08 May 2008 00:23:02 GMT

It's satire folks -- strap yourselves in. But first...

WARNING! Sexual Content (Duh!) and scatological humor.

And remember, Jonathan Swift (yes, I'm comparing myself to him -- I've been in his church, you know) did not publish A Modest Proposal in his day's version of Gourmet magazine, if you know what I mean -- and I think you do -- so please consider where you're reading this.

LAST WARNING! If your prude meter is set to high, don't read it!

Possible level of offense might be just this side of that brought by Warren Ellis, but far short of de Sade. Still, "ladies" are advised to keep smelling salts handy.

CONSIDER YOURSELVES WARNED!

If it gets me kicked off of LiveJournal, well, it's been nice to know you.
J.D. Finch

*
*
=====================================================================

Report From Lustcon 2150 -- Day 1

Welcum!

It was business as usual at Lustcon 2150, with a reported 100,000 fans of Scixfixx coming out to Nevada's Area 69, a sort of country unto itself given to a grateful fandom by sympathetic POTUS John Holmes VI. The opening day ceremonies got off with a "bang" and the usual Praising Of the Mole, the legendary fan from the early part of the century who, perhaps more than anyone, helped to turn the moribund genre of science fiction into the hot and heavy 24/7 sex fest it has become. From the innocent days of illicitly copping a feel, to the unofficial SciFi con sport of elevator groping, to the humorous, though useful, Give Me A Dollar And I'll Fuck You buttons that started turning up at cons, we can largely thank the Mole for today's Lustcon where casual public sex and impromptu fellatio sessions are no longer the exception, but the rule. (Of course Orson Scott Card's discovery of the cure for Aids also played a large role in loosening things up.)

The first attraction of the day, reportedly drawing about 35,000 viewers was John Scuzi and his wife Traci and their popular Rough Sex Guide to Scixfixx (which starts out with Scuzi explaining the basics to any newcummers: "Scixfixx, of course stands for 'sexual fixation' the thing that used to be called 'science fiction'," began Scuzi, as his wife began oiling herself up for the main event. "You might remember," he tried to continue, but was distracted as the lovely Traci, already brandishing a 12 lb. rubber mace, began dipping into a large trunk, selecting various items of latex, ball gags, whips and other tools of the trade. It was just as well that Scuzi was struck dumb by the sight, as the crowd itself was already distracted by what they already considered too much exposition from the always verbal Scuzi, and a fair percentage of them were already engaging in their own acts of Scixfixx as the Scuzis "got the ball rolling."

Snuff Said

Behind the scenes one could find the mascot of Lustcon being put together, the always popular Dickheaded Cunthulhu, the mythical beast with the capacity to fuck itself. This beast, always provided by a group calling themselves Lovecraft's Scixslaves (or is it Scixcraft's Loveslaves? I can never remember), of course symbolizes what befell science fiction a hundred or so years ago when it finally occurred to fandom, that no one really knew what it (SciFi) was, and those who had a slight idea couldn't agree anyway. As historians of the genre know, it was a stroke of luck that the Mole happened to come on the scene at just this time to plant the seeds of the new genre of ScixFixx. The highlight of Lustcon is of course the "Snuff Ceremony" where as thousands of fans cry "Release The Dickhead!" the mascot makes its appearance and proceeds to fuck itself to death.

Only a few hearty oldsters here remember the first ScixSnuff, though there is a crude 4,000 dpi mp55 video as a record of the event, starring an almost petrified in his own skin Harlan Ellison, who was obviously ready to check out anyway, and who agreed to star in the video as long as he got final approval of the script. Shocking those who doubted that he would be able to even briefly rise to the occasion, even more shocking was that prior to going to his reward (he had written 77 virgins into the script as a dig to a well known non-Jewish religion) he managed to satisfy 76 of them. "You're only as good as your last virgin," he wheezed before he collapsed into the arms of number 77, who immediately dove into one of the vats of hand sanitizer that populate Area 69 for the convenience of attendees.

The Clito Award

The biggest story here is the one that's the biggest every year -- no new works to speak of as the purveyors of written ScixFixx have decided to forgo producing anything and cut right to the chase. That is: get to the sex without wasting time trying to write using a computer filled with sweet terrestrial and extra porn. So as there has been a dearth of the written stuff for over 100 years, once again, the winner of the genre's Clito award is Fahrenheit 451, a work which creator Bradbury's Brain explained recently isn't about censorship or governmental surveillance and abrogation of American's rights, but simply about good old fashioned fucking.

A Piece Of Past

But perhaps the high point of the day for me was the auctioning of the recently unearthed H.G. Wells letter to Mae West, with whom it turns out he carried on an active epistolary correspondence (he rakishly called her "The Shape Of Things To Come"). In it he admits that he supported feminism solely to "get intelligent ladies of breeding to join me betwixt the sheets." As we have seen, if SciFi had known this from the beginning we might have skipped all the idea stuff and gone right to the sex, something it seems we've finally learned to do. High bidding winner of the missive, Zoltan Trump, currently using Fritz Lang's Metropolis storyboards to remodel Manhattan and bring it -- finally -- into the 22nd century, received wild applause when he used the letter he had just paid $1.2 million for to roll a fatty, which he shared with President Holmes and a group of Scixwhores. (The ladies seeming somewhat superfluous, being, as they were, at the epicenter of things Scixsexual. And free.)

"All's well that ends Welles, eh Holmes?" said Zoltan as he blew out a thick cloud of Wisconsin Gold.

Note --
Don't miss the ScixFixx Tijuana Eight Pagers exhibit in the underground gallery. Highlights include Chewbacca "knowing" Princess Leia and a Dune space worm having its way with Barbarella.

_____________________________________________________________
(Oh yeah: Any similarity to blah, blah, blah. (You know -- it's not about you, don't sue, yadda yadda yadda.) Science Fiction though, as a genre is welcome to try and sue. Go ahead SF, go for it.)

The Humanity

jdfin2@hotmail.com — Wed, 07 May 2008 03:54:56 GMT

The Mashup to end all Mashups

jdfin2@hotmail.com — Sun, 04 May 2008 15:51:05 GMT

I can't come up with a better comment than the one quiziano1 left at the YouTube site: "true ass entertainment."

Mark Sarvas: I, Rodent

jdfin2@hotmail.com — Sat, 03 May 2008 05:50:54 GMT

Oh, I get it -- Of Mice And Men. Really, you can photoshop it all you want, but it's still John Steinbeck, isn't it? Go to the site of the first link below and check the "vermin's" hair line and the area around the ear. How about what's going on above the mouth? That hairy rodent lip was once the author of The Grapes Of Wrath's finely trimmed mustache, no? Well, if Sarvas wants to add the echo of Steinbeck to his West Coast tour, why the hell not? It's not like anyone's going to sue him. Are they?

Compare to see how the "vermin" poster artist used the Steinbeck pic as the basis for the rodent's face:

http://marksarvas.blogs.com/elegvar/2008/05/tour-begins.html#comments

http://www.falstaffbrewing.com/steinbeck1.jpg

The second image was used most famously as the basis for the Steinbeck stamp in the author series released by the USPS.

***As always, feel free to tell me if you think I'm hallucinating.

Beats Invade Connecticut!

jdfin2@hotmail.com — Thu, 01 May 2008 16:56:44 GMT

Connecticut Beat Poetry Festival 2008

Presented by The Spoken Word Series

Once Allen Ginsberg drew the line after having read Howl, the world was never quite the same.

And now a new time has come, where silent voices of many generations are ready to be heard once again.

The underground and other factions of artists, poets, and musicians are rallying together with Connecticut poets in exodus from the bondage of silence. All are coming together in Connecticut to celebrate Beat authors and to share their own original work for an eight day free poetry festival.

This will be the largest free poetry festival ever held in Connecticut and the Eastern Seaboard.

Who ever participates in this festival will not only network, meet publishers, see old friends and meet new ones, but will also directly contribute to making history.

This will be the Woodstock of poetry festivals.

The underlying intent, in addition to celebrating Beat poets and authors, is to take poets of minor note, regional fame with unknowns and give them strong exposure, just as was the case for our antecedents at 6 Gallery.

Check out the full schedule at http://www. myspace. com/beatpoetryfestival.