Request #1: A Book Review of the Sanderson Era of Wheel of Time

In my last post, I offered you all the chance to give me feedback on the blog and make requests for topics.  Only one of you responded.  One!  Shame.  However, as the squeaky wheel, she'll get the grease this time around.  And if anyone else would like to make a topic request or proposal (and I promise I'll entertain just about anything), it's not too late!  You'll notice I've given this post a number.  That means there can be more posts with numbers!  You could have your very own "Request #2", or "Request #3", or... for yourself!  All you have to do is ask.  Or provide feedback.  Or anything, really.  Just sayin'.

Anyways, Megan's request was to hear my opinion on the last three Wheel of Time books, as finished by Brandon Sanderson.  I am most happy to comply, especially since the wording of her question gives me a lot of flexibility in responding.  (And if you don't like the topic, well, it's your own fault for not suggesting a different one!  So there.)

I shall attempt to do this without spoilers, but I make no promises.

So, for those of you who may not know, the Wheel of Time is a high-fantasy epic spanning fourteen books (plus a prequel novel/novella and a short story that was cut from the last book for pacing reasons).  The first eleven books were written by Robert Jordan, but he died before completing the series, and Brandon Sanderson was the author chosen by Jordan's widow to complete the series.

(I would describe "high fantasy" as a clearly fantastical setting, with archetypal characters and a large amount of magic use.  For contrast, "low fantasy" would be a setting more clearly related to our own history (although not necessarily "historical"), with little magic use and more "gray" characters.  Most of A Song of Ice and Fire would probably qualify as "low fantasy", although I expect the last couple books will change that.  The Wheel of Time Wikipedia entry linked above actually links to a definition of high fantasy, but I've ignored that.  I like mine better, unless they agree with me, in which case I like theirs, too.)

While fourteen books is certainly a significant investment of your time, if you're interested in reading fantasy and haven't read this series yet, I'd certainly recommend it, especially now that it's completed.  The pace drags a little bit around the ninth and tenth books (especially the tenth), but it's much more tolerable when you can simply go on to the next book when you finish, rather than suffering through the interminable wait for the next book to be published.  Like, say, a certain series mentioned above that's been going on for nearly as long as Wheel of Time but only has five books to its credit, including only two in the last 15 years and is already in the process of being passed by a TV show that started 15 years after the first book was published.  Grump.

Anyways.

Incidentally, I'd also happily recommend Brandon Sanderson's work on his own projects, as well.  He's got plenty of stuff published, mostly fantasy, in both young adult (but still great reads) and (mostly) adult (but not adult adult, being Mormon.  ASoIaF his stuff is not.).  Being selected to finish the Wheel of Time was probably one of the best things that could have happened to him, as I think it gave him a lot of exposure that he otherwise may not have gotten, but which he certainly deserves.

I mentioned above that the last three novels were written by Sanderson, which is interesting, because originally it was only supposed to be one novel.  After the eleventh novel was finished, Robert Jordan swore up and down that the next book would be the last, even if it had to be 2000 pages to fit everything in.  Thankfully, the decision was ultimately made to expand the last book into two and then three books, which was an excellent decision, because there were simply too many plot threads to tie up in a single book, even if it did run to 2k pages.

Sanderson also had a lot of notes, and even some text, from Jordan to work off of, so the last three books are by no means entirely his own creation, which is fine.  It was nice to know that what you were reading was generally (or exactly) in line with what Jordan intended.

But anyways, on to my take on the books.

First of all, the good aspects.  In general, I think Sanderson was an inspired choice to finish the series for three main reasons:

1) He's incredibly prolific.  Seriously, the guy turns out AT LEAST one book a year, and sometimes more than that.  He's also been known to write books simply to relax, or as warm ups.  Not kidding.  After the lengthy breaks in between books as the series wore on, this was a fantastic change of pace.  Each of the last three books basically came out a year after the prior one, which means we didn't have to wait long.  I don't know if another author could have done that.

2) His writing style matches pretty well with Jordan's style and vision.  Sanderson was very clear up front that he didn't intent to try to copy or mimic Jordan's style exactly, which is an approach I certainly support.  And you can tell to some extent, as you read the books, when you're going from something Jordan wrote before he died to original content by Sanderson.  But on the whole, the styles meshed well.  Neither was/is particularly florid in their prose, but each was/is capable of some very "cinematic" scenes.  And given that Sanderson was writing what would probably be described as the "epic conclusion" or the "explosive climax", taking an approach like writing a movie action scene works well.

3) He is a wizard with magic systems.  (That pun is entirely intended, and I regret nothing.)  Sanderson is probably best known for his magic systems, and with very good reason.  He's incredibly good at coming up with creative systems that are nevertheless well-thought-out and internally consistent, and which he's willing to take to logical extensions.

And luckily for him, the Wheel of Time already had in place a creative and rules-based magic system.  Unfortunately, Jordan wasn't quite as good at thinking through and exploring the possibilities of the magic system he'd created, even keeping in mind that those using it are generally fairly inexperienced, and that the few more-experienced characters we see can do quite a bit more with it, although even their imagination was limited.

One of the best things that Sanderson did was really think about what could be done within the established rules of the magic system, and take them to some logical extremes, which did some really fun things.  Some of them were pretty obvious, while others were in the vein of "Wow, that's awesome, and of course it makes sense that you could do that."

The bad aspects are a little harder, because it's hard to know sometimes who to attribute them to.  The only complaint I have that can be directly levied against Sanderson, and which is a totally understandable issue, is this:

He completely missed the mark with some characters, especially Mat.  I'm not the only one who thought this; Sanderson has said that he'd gotten a lot of feedback especially on Mat, where some people liked his take, and others didn't, but either way, it was clearly noticeable that there was a distinct different.  I'm firmly in the "he didn't get Mat right" camp, especially in the first book.

Like I said, it's understandable.  First, any author is going to struggle to write a character completely consistently with the way another author wrote him, and Mat, being the comic relief of the series, is especially vulnerable to that.  Sanderson, while he can be funny, just didn't have the comic chops to pull Mat off correctly, unfortunately.  Additionally, Mat is an extremely unreliable narrator, especially about himself, but he was always rather subtle about it.  Sanderson just couldn't quite give Mat the same level of subtlety and sophistication.  His version of Mat just seems a bit... younger to me.

My other biggest complaint is probably directed at both Jordan and Sanderson, which is that, despite having three books to wrap things up in, there were still a lot of plot threads that were either never resolved, or which were simply chopped off (often by just killing the characters).

In some ways, this makes sense: Jordan himself said he wanted to leave a "living" world, where things aren't all nicely wrapped up with a bow, and you feel like the characters still have problems to go solve and things to do.  I get that, and even appreciate it.  And given that the last book is basically a huge climactic battle, it makes sense that a lot of characters (and this series has a lot of characters and subplots) would die.  It's really sort of realistic that some of those characters would simply die without finishing their particular subplot.

But there were several subplots that we invested a LOT of time into that simply end, or are never resolved.  And that's a bit frustrating, because it feels like all of that time was wasted.

(And in a similar vein, while the long-expected rescue was very well executed (and I believe written up by Jordan himself), the rescued character's reunion with many of the other characters was... strangely anticlimactic and unsatisfying.)

Overall, though, I think Sanderson's effort to finish up the series was very well done, and that he created a very worthy and satisfying conclusion to the series.  (Unlike this review, which is basically just going to stop, because I'm terrible at concluding things.)

So there you go, Megan.  That's my take on the last three books as finished up by Brandon Sanderson.  Did that work for you?

And any other requests?  Anybody?

A Year and a Day

Guess what today is!

Today is my one hundred and eleventh birthday!

Wait, no, that's not it.

Today is our Independence Day!  (Cue triumphal music.)

Nope, not quite right, either.

Well, actually, today is the anniversary of my second blog post.  My first was actually on the sixth, so today is the historically, magically and legally significant "year and a day", rather than the precise anniversary of the blog.  Fits my posting routine and is meaningful!  How perfect.

I have to admit, I've really enjoyed writing this blog, although it's definitely been a struggle at times to find the time to post on a semi-regular basis.  It's been a good creative outlet, as well as a chance to hone my writing skills.  Hopefully you've enjoyed reading it as much as I've enjoyed writing it.

Okay, enough navel-gazing.

So we're a year in now.  37 posts (counting this one), which means I at least beat an every-other-week average!  In case you're interested, the post with the highest hit count is the inaugural entry in the Poor Driving series, Merging Edition, with 90.  The lowest hit count (that counts), at 17, is actually a tie between my post on the day of the CFB championship, and the latest entry in the Poor Driving series, 4-Way Stops Edition.  (Given how popular the other entries were, I'm wondering if some of you just missed that one?)

On this auspicious occasion, though, I thought I'd open up the floor a bit, and hear from you, dear readers.

What do you think?  What's worked for you?  What hasn't?  Favorite or least-favorite posts?

Are there any topics you'd like me to write (or write more) about?  (I'm happy to express an opinion on, or rant about, just about anything!)  Anything you'd like me to stop writing about?  (No promises...)

Is the post length too long?  Should I post on a different day?  Anything else you want to comment on?

I want feedback!  In the comments, on Facebook, whatever!

I also want to know a bit about you.  Who's still reading this?  If you're in a different country, do I know you (I think that's generally the case), or did you find this somehow (all the random hits from Russia and the Ukraine, I'm looking at you!)?  Who's the person mysteriously +1'ing most of my posts?

The floor is yours!


Finally, in case you missed any (or in case you feel like rereading any favorites), here are the links to my posts for the past year:

1) Hi there
2) The Year I Gave Up Sarcasm
3) I Suck at Small Talk
4) Romance is Terrifying
5) I'm Not an Expert, But...
6) An Ode to the Subjunctive
7) Futile Advice for the Internet, Part I: Online Arguing
8) Sex Ed
9) Politics and Facts
10) The Rumors of This Blog's Demise
11) Movies You Love More Than They Probably Deserve
12) Poor Driving: Merging Edition
13) Sports Discussions PSA
14) Why Marching Band is Awesome
15) In Support of Unions
16) Poor Driving: Freeway Speed Edition
17) Addendum to Poor Driving: Freeway Speed Edition
18) Fire! Fire! Fire! Fire! Fire!
19) Grad School
20) Scathing Critiques of Children's Literature: Curious George
21) Nice Guy Syndrome
22) #Gamergate
23) Dads
24) The World's Largest Clarinet
26) The Sun Bowl Trip
27) Scathing Critiques of Children's Literature: The Railway Series
28) Why I'm Rooting for Oregon Tonight
29) Mental Cartography
30) Poor Driving: 4-Way Stops Edition
31) Scathing Critiques of Children's Literature: Little Blue Truck Leads the Way
32) Times that JBrad Ignored the Clarinets: Vignettes of Neglect
33) RFRA Why?
34) Movies You Love More Than They Probably Deserve, Part II
35) What is Real?
36) Read the Email!

Read The Email!

I tend to write a lot.

(This public service announcement brought to you by "No, really?")

As I'm sure most of you were aware from either work, HMB or just this blog, I tend to use lots of words when writing. (I do pay them extra for all the work, though.)  However, I don't think I use a lot of words unnecessarily. After all, if you're vocabularistically inclined, there are plenty of words out there to get an idea across concisely. (Even without turning nouns into verbs. There are already verbs that do what you're trying to do. My current pet peeve is "operationalize". Just... why? Why would you do that to the English language? What did it ever do to you? Longest running pet peeve: impactful. No. Just no. Don't do that.  Even my spellchecker agrees that these are not words.) There's often just a lot of information I'm trying to communicate.

Plus, I really just enjoy writing convoluted sentences sometimes.

There is a method to my moderately meandering madness, though.  (Aside from alliteration and asides, albeit.)

I once heard that there are two methods of explaining something. One is to jump straight to the point, and only include background as needed. The other is to start with the background, and then gradually make your way to the point you're trying to get across. As you might guess, I tend to mostly use the second method, although I can use the first if I really need someone to do something and I don't want them to not actually notice the request.  When it comes to storytelling, I find the buildup helpful, and when it comes to answering questions, I find that the background helps keep people from jumping to inaccurate conclusions.

I've been told I'm a decent teacher (on a purely amateur, one-on-one basis; I claim no classroom expertise whatsoever), in large part because of my willingness and ability to clearly convey large amounts of information. So while I may suck at small talk, I don't suck at explaining things, especially in written form.

Therefore, it annoys the everliving heck out of me when someone asks a question that clearly indicates that they didn't read what I wrote. It's one thing, obviously, if I accidentally left out crucial information. That doesn't happen all that often, but it's been known to occur on occasion.  But I usually don't, and generally the information that they're asking about is clearly (and often prominently, since I know what the important stuff is) spelled out in the email already.

So why the heck did I waste all that time carefully crafting an email giving you all the information you needed, if you're not going to read the darn thing?!? Is reading comprehension so hard? Or have we all just gotten used to two-line emails that barely convey anything?

Dang it, my emails are masterpieces! They're constructed with specific thought given to priority of information and requests, background information needed or which might be useful to get what I actually want, and often a dash of "here's some helpful instruction that will let you do this on your own next time", because while I like being indispensable, it's better for the company if more people know more things.

And, of course, there's no polite way to say, "Try again, and actually read this time." (And oh, there are some people I'd like to say that to.) Instead, if I'm feeling snarky, I'm stuck saying something like, "As indicated below...", and then reiterating the relevant information, because I'm darn well not going to not get the point across that I already said this and it's not my fault if they didn't read.

Fortunately, you, my dear readers, do not vex me so, although that may simply be because you're not reading this far to begin with and you're not really responding to my posts, so I don't know that you're not reading this far. But man. Some people, man. Some people.

Some people just need to read the bloody email.

(Fun fact: I actually started this post shortly after the small talk post, and the title was originally the line about not sucking at explaining things, to get a nice parallel going. However, I couldn't really make it work as a post at the time, so it just sat in my drafts until recently, when I had a particularly aggravating experience with a non-read email, and realized I could repurpose most of this old post and save myself some time.)

What is Real?

(Despite the title, this blog post will be markedly lacking in stoned freshman metaphysics.  I’m sure you’re all relieved.)

I came across this article the other day.  (Funny how many of my posts seem to start that way. It’s like my version of “A funny thing happened on my way to…”.  Anyways.) I think it’s a great article that makes a lot of very good points.  Of course I do, or I wouldn’t be bringing it up, right?  However, I wanto to unpack those points a little in a broader context.

First of all, just to get it out of the way (and this is my only real beef with the article), she’s clearly unaware of (or forgetting) the definition of strength having to do with potency, which means her causation link is wrong.  We don’t call “manly” drinks strong because only men could handle such high-proof (or high-tasting proof, anyways) drinks, we call them strong because they are literally more potent potables (no, you don’t get a link for that one.  If you don’t know it, I don’t want to know you!). However, she’s right that stronger drinks are generally considered “manly”, so the general point still holds.

Besides that, she’s got a fair point overall.  Back in college (most absolutely once I was past drinking age, naturally…………), I was a sweet drink person.  I couldn’t take shots without wanting to
vomit, and I didn’t like beer yet, so that didn’t leave a whole lot, y’know?  But nevertheless, despite not having grown up around drinking at all (wine coolers don't count), I still managed to internalize the sense that I was supposed to feel shame about drinking them, because they were “girly” drinks.  (My workaround was Long Island Iced Teas, where the manliness of the strength seems to outweigh the sweetness in popular opinion.) 

 
(Random question: why doesn’t rum and Coke seem to count as a girly drink?  I get Jack and Coke
(blech) because of the whiskey, but the rum doesn’t have that association.)

Now, of course, I’m much more likely to drink (good) beer (generally from a bottle or a glass,  although more microbreweries are starting to can, which is perfectly fine) or scotch than I am to drink something like a cosmo or a mojito, but that’s simply because my tastes have changed.  And it took someone who I respected telling me he didn’t care what I drank for me to start to be okay
with liking sweet drinks.  (Thanks, Chad!) 

And needing to be told that for the external validation is a whole different issue, because I shouldn’t need to be told that it’s okay for me to like a “girly” drink.  If my drink of choice happens to be cosmos, or mai tais, or whatever else, who cares?  What should it matter to anyone else?  Why does liking those drinks make me any less “manly”?

Why?  Because as a society, we’ve created this idea of what a “real” man is, and that idea doesn’t
include drinking sweet drinks.

Now, as a white male, I’m not going to talk too much about internalizing toxic societal narratives, because I have a better sense of self-awareness and self-preservation than that. No, instead my interest here is about language, because I am Stannis.

So let’s look at some definitions, shall we?

The definition (well, one definition, anyways) of “real” is “existing or occurring as fact; actual rather than imaginary, ideal, or fictitious”.  The definition  of “man” is “an adult male person”.   (I admit I’m not up on the latest gender theory, so hopefully this definition addresses gender identity appropriately.)

Therefore, by definition, a “real man” is someone who is an actual adult male person.

That’s it.  That’s all.

There’s nothing there about what you drink, or eat, or wear, or do for recreation, or how you talk, or how you treat others, or anything else.  Are you an adult male person?  Congratulations, you’re a real man!

Of course, that’s not exactly an advertising bonanza.  And so people start trying to ascribe additional meanings to the word “man”, to mean someone who drinks whiskey, or wears Wranglers, or helps women out of cars, or watches NASCAR, or whatever.  And they try to say that only a “man” who does those things is a “real” man.

But that’s obviously not true, and there’s a couple problems with it.  One is that many people may not
agree with your attempted redefinition of “man”.  The other is that now you’ve converted “man” from a simple dictionary definition to an idea. A “man” is now someone who does certain things, acts a certain way, etc.

And you can try to define “man” that way if you want, but first, go take a look at that definition of “real” again: “existing or occurring as fact; actual rather than imaginary, ideal, or fictitious”.

“Rather than ideal.”

As soon as you start ascribing any meaning to the word “man” other than the dictionary definition, you can no longer use the word “real” in front of it without being wrong. You’re literally using a word in a way that is contrary to its very definition.

(As much as it even hurts me to do it, even Steven Moffat's line at the BAFTA falls into this category.  I absolutely agree with the sentiment, but it's still definitionally wrong.)

And of course languages changes, definitions change, meanings change, and that’s fine.  (More
chances for me to use archaic and obscure definitions!) But I’d argue that “real” is one word, one concept that cannot change.  You don’t get your own definitions; you don’t get your own sets of facts.  If we can’t agree on the fundamental definitions of things, how are we supposed to communicate?

And then, of course, the people doing this compound the issue by making it into a value  judgment. Only “real” things, as conveniently defined by them, are good, deserve respect, whatever.

Real, by definition, has no value judgment.  It’s as value-neutral as it is possible to be.  Something exists, or it doesn’t.  Is that good? Bad?  That’s up to you, but it has nothing to do with whether or not it’s real.

By altering the very meaning of the word “real”, we’re building alienation, differentiation, and a whole lot of other “ations” into the very fabric of our language, and taking away the ability to have any sort of common ground.  If mere existence and definition is imbued with value judgments, then meaningful communication becomes nearly impossible.

Of course, “man” is hardly the only case where this happens, it just happens to be what spun out of my introductory story.  Here are a couple others (this is vastly non-exhaustive, but will at least keep this from sounding too sexist):

“Real mothers”: Oh God, I don’t even want to go here, but it needs to be repeated as often as possible. (And I’m not meaning to be paternalistic here; my female friends seem to feel this way, too, so I’m just helping out.) The definition of “mother” is “female parent”. That’s it.  Are you a female
parent?  Then congratulations, you’re a real mother! 

Notice that this definition says absolutely nothing about feeding methods, working or SAH, or anything else about how you deal with your child.  Female parents are real mothers.  Period.  If you’re trying to crowbar value judgments about parenting methods into your definition, you’re wrong (and also probably a jerk).

“Real Americans”: In honor of the upcoming election season (although at this point, when isn’t there an upcoming election season, aside from when it’s an actual election season?), I thought I’d give this one a shot, too.  The definition of “American”?  “A native or inhabitant of the United States of America”.  (I’m paraphrasing slightly).  That’s.  It.

Very few things make me angrier to hear than politicians trying to devalue and dismiss the opinions and beliefs of their opponents by claiming that “real Americans” want certain things that just so happen to align with their policy goals.

I know that I hold different political positions than many of you, and I don’t feel that makes you any less of an American than I am.  (Hopefully you feel the same!)  Attempts like this to squelch discourse and discussion through redefinition are incredibly toxic to our political system as
a whole, because they promulgate an us vs. them mentality that may help win elections, but which makes impossible compromise and reconsideration.

As I said, this is hardly intended to be an exhaustive list, because the number of things we’ve loaded up with value judgments and called “real” is simply ridiculous.  “Real” cars, “real” beer, “real” curriculums, “real” videogames, “real” Christians, "real" Muslims, "real" everything.

What is real? Fact.  Provable, cut and dried existence.  Any other use is an abuse of language
in the service of an agenda.

And Stannis doesn’t like abuses of language.

Movies You Love More Than They Probably Deserve, Part II

Hey, we're back with another installment!  I didn't really plan on making this a series, but the mood struck me, and since it's my blog, I can write whatever I want, unless it makes you all leave,  because I don't really want to make you leave.

Anyways, as you might recall, the premise is:

You know you have them. Those movies that, for whatever reason, be it sentimental, or just that they strike you the right way, or whatever, you just love, even though you know they're not that great of movies. Or that they're honestly really terrible movies.

Last time, we did three: Mallrats, Boys and Girls, and 10 Things I Hate About You.  This time, we're doing four!  So let's do this, shall we?  One, two, twelve, eight!

Bring It On

Just to be clear, I'm only talking about the first one here.  I haven't seen any of the "sequels", or franchise movies, or whatever they're called. Because why? Why would anyone think that's a good idea? Well, I suppose they thought they would make money, and they obviously did, somehow, so more power to them.

Anyways, this certainly isn't a good movie. It's not a BAD movie, either; there's nothing outstandingly, glaringly wrong with it. Some of the backup cheerleader (inspiration leader?) performances are spotty, the family and boyfriend stuff is meh (male cheerleaders, enough said), and Kirsten Dunst is, well, herself. But overall, it doesn't have a standout flaw.

So why do I love it? Well, Kirsten Dunst and Eliza Dushku, first of all. I'm sure the reasons there don't need to be explained.

But the real reason took me a while to figure out how to explain, because I feel much about this movie like I do about something like Center Stage. (Yes, Molly, I like that one, too, even though you did make me watch it instead of Gladiator.) At first I was thinking of it in terms of something like "alternative sports". These aren't your standard sports movies, obviously, but they're still about movement and discipline and athleticism and stuff.

But obviously that's not quite right, either, because that's kind of stupid. What it's really about is the music and choreography, which made me realize that these are ultimately preying on my appreciation for musicals. Right? Dance routines, catchy music, etc. They're musicals without the singing. And who doesn't like musicals? (Well, actually, lots of people, apparently, but they're wrong.)

Plus, spirit fingers.

Empire Records

What made me think of this movie? Who knows where thoughts come from? Well, actually, Rex Manning Day a month ago is what brought this movie to mind, although I made sure not to dwell. Not on Rex Manning Day.

Anyways, this movie is truly underappreciated, at least going by the IMDB rankings, which are clearly filled out by bananaheads . Sure, it's got a few flaws. Berko and Eddie are rather underutilized for characters to seem in some ways to be set up to be more important to the Empire crew than they are. The GWAR interlude, while amusing, is kind of random and not THAT funny. And the ending is WAY too pat.

The movie also can't seem to decide whether or not it's going to have a plot, or if it's a "day in the life of" movie. There's nothing wrong with either, it actually isn't nearly as bad as that previous sentence made it sound, because the movie still hangs together well, and besides, the director doesn't need to explain his art to me.

Lucas is actually one of the biggest things that throws me about this movie, because we're told several times by the characters how oddly he's acting, but we haven't really seen enough of him to have a baseline for his normal behavior. To me, his behavior in the movie is just how he is, which makes it jarring when everyone says that's NOT how he normally is. A tiny nit in the scheme of things, but sometimes it's the little things that throw you out of the movie.

All in all, pretty minor stuff, especially compared to what's so awesome about this film.

First of all is, of course, the music. The soundtrack to this movie is fantastic, and also totally reminiscent of high school at this point. Heck, even "Say No More, Mon Amour". (And AJ is completely wrong about the Queen Sarah Saturday song that he vetoes at the beginning of the day. I love that song.) But that's the obvious one, because that's what everyone likes about the movie.

This movie is also endlessly quotable, although I've so far managed to work in distressingly few lines. Lucas is especially quotable, which is part of what drives my complaint up above. But really, everyone gets some pretty good lines throughout the course of the move.

Which brings up the next point, which is that this is an ensemble movie that actually works as an ensemble. There's really no main character to this, and everyone (barring, as mentioned, Berko and Eddie) is pretty well fleshed out as a character. Heck, even Warren gets some pretty good character development, and we never even find out his real name! Even better, Liv Tyler is not the main character!

I recognize that I may be in the minority here, but I'm not particularly a Liv Tyler fan, even in the looks department. I mean, she's pretty, of course; not many actresses aren't. But in general, I tend to prefer other actresses in any given movie that she's in over her. (I get why book Aragorn married Arwen, but movie Aragorn totally should have gone with Eowyn. Although that would suck for Faramir.) But I suppose AJ can be forgiven, although choosing an art school based on proximity to her seems... risky.

I also really like that there's an extended edition, although some of the reshuffled scenes were a bit jarring at first.

Man, summer break needs to get here so I can watch this again. Damn the man! Save the Empire!

Mars Attacks!

I debated whether or not to include this one, since it's got a pretty decent cult following. It's also a bit in the "so bad it's good" category, but since it does so deliberately, I'm going to give it a pass.

It does make it a bit hard to identify what's bad in this movie, though, especially since I don't agree with a lot of the common critiques. I know many people find it random, stupidly silly, or just plain dumb. These people are missing what's there! No, what's there is a movie deliberately playing on B-movie tropes, while packed with an incredibly all-star cast.

I mean, just look at the cast list in the link above!  This is ridiculous, and most of them are in there just to die in various ways.  Jack Nicholson plays TWO different characters!  And the only survivors are Natalie Portman, Jim Brown and Tom Jones.  Tom freakin' Jones.

And while I get that some people might not appreciate the humor, I think this movie is hilarious.  That divisiveness is probably the movie's biggest downfall.  But in response, I just have one thing to say:

Ack!  Ack ack!  Ack!

Saved!

Continuing with the exclamation point theme, we'll wrap up with this one.

Much like Bring It On!, there isn't really a glaring flaw in this movie.  Mandy Moore's character is a bit too mean to be sympathetic, as is Eva Amurri's.  And while I'm not as big of a Mandy Moore fan as some (naming no names...), she's fine here.  This isn't a spectacular movie, but it's fine.  Much like 10 Things last time, it's not that I like a bad movie, it's just that I like it more than you might expect.

Something about this movie just strikes me, though.  I think it's a few things:

I've always enjoyed Jena Malone, especially in this stage of her career (Saved!, Donnie Darko, etc.).  She's very girl-next-door ordinary, which makes her exceptionally relatable.  And for some reason, her mix of complete astonishment and exasperation on the line, "You're performing an exorcism?" just gets me every time.

And the same thing goes for Patrick Fugit, with the exception of the pronouns.  They're both, like, totally adorable, especially together.

But most of all, I like the message of the movie.  I think it actually strikes a great balance of subtlety, in that despite how it might appear on the surface, I don't think it's actually anti-religious.  It's simply taking on certain attitudes and approaches that are, shall we say, less than productive, while still being respectful on the whole.

So anyways, there you have it.  Four more movies.  Thoughts?  Agree or disagree?  Any of your own you'd like to share?  Let me know!

RFRA Why?

I don’t often write about politics, religion or current events.  I promised that at the beginning, and while I think of it as more of a guideline than a rule, I do try to stick to it for the most part.  There’re a few reasons for that.  First, I don’t get posts up frequently enough to really address current events while they’re, well, current.  Second, I don’t really want to alienate half my (potential) readerbase, or I’d at least like to get you hooked before I start with stuff you might vehemently disagree with.  (Although getting you hooked probably requires more frequent posting, too.)

The third reason, though (and some of you just thought I’d used “a few” for two things, didn’t you?), is that every time I try, I start experiencing massive scope creep, because of course things like that aren’t isolated, they’re part of a more systemic whole, and if I want to be thorough, then of course I have to address all of the connections, except you can’t really do that because all the things.

And I have tried.  I have two partially completed drafts (one that I started over half a year ago) sitting in my list of posts that may just never see the light of day because it’s impossible to say everything I want to say on certain topics in a reasonably sized post.  Or, if they do, it’ll be as part of a massive posting of about 25 entries, where I just go on Facebook and say, “Here, go read this book I wrote.  It’s called ‘How the World Should Be’, by me.”

But of course, having not been granted powers by Morgan Freeman, gained absolute control over the spice supply, or escaped the closure of the universe, I don’t have the ability to make people do what I tell them to.  (Heck, it’s hit-or-miss with my four-year-old.)  So writing all that much on how I think things should be, while perhaps cathartic, would be a bit pointless.  (Even though I’d be right, natch.)

But I think I’ve finally found a topic that I can keep contained and write about in a semi-timely fashion!  So be warned, politics and religion lie ahead!  (And long reads, but that should pretty much go without saying at this point…)

Can someone please explain to me why “religious liberty” is a thing?

Seriously, why should your (often conveniently buffet-style) religious beliefs let you be a dick?

What prompts this, of course, is the recent hullabaloo in Indiana (and Arkansas, although they fixed things in time to avoid Indiana's fate) regarding their passage of the so-called Religious Freedom Restoration Act.  In case you’ve been living under a rock, this act would prohibit government from “substantially burdening” citizens from expressing their religious convictions, barring a compelling state interest or a lack of less-restrictive solutions.  (The federal version of this law is what allowed the Hobby Lobby decision, incidentally.) 

The fear, of course, is that this act will be used to discriminate against gays, lesbians and other people of questionable character and morals (he says tongue-firmly-in-cheek).  Despite protests by the bill’s proponents, the ability of for-profit businesses to take advantage of this law, as well as the law’s provision to apply to situations where the government is not involved (i.e., in situations involving just people and/or businesses), sure make it look appear as though discrimination was the actual intent of the bill.  The Onion, as usual, is on it.

But why is this even a question?  Why should religious convictions get you exemptions from civilized behavior in a way that other things don’t?

Let’s start with some history.  One of America’s founding principles was that of religious liberty; after all, the Pilgrims came here to escape religious oppression, right?  And then there’s always the First Amendment.

Of course, all rights are subject to limits.  For example, “free exercise of religion” wouldn’t allow you to freely exercise a religion involving human sacrifice.  Once everyone agrees on that general principle (which I think most people do), then we’re just, as the expression goes, haggling over the price.  “Your rights end where mine begin” (or, more graphically, “Your right to swing your fist ends at my nose”) is fine as a slogan and general descriptor, but actual scenarios require an examination of the rights in question, the relative importance of each, etc.  Healthy debate on such a topic is good.

Also, this is probably a good place for me to note that my general philosophy doesn't look kindly on "personal liberty" as a valuable end unto itself.  It's nice work if you can get it, and it's worth trying for as one of many goals, but it often seems as though "personal liberty" is used as an excuse to take advantage of society's benefits without having to alter your own behavior to actually make society work.  Hey, did I just make "personal liberty" sound a big like "religious liberty"?  Look at that.

In 1993, Congress passed the Religious Freedom Restoration Act, which, while acknowledging that government might have some interest in restricting certain expressions of religion (like, say, human sacrifice), instructs the government to try to find the least-burdensome way to enforce that interest.  The Act was originally (at least superficially) intended to actually protect minority religions, driven by examples like Native Americans using peyote as part of their religious rituals and then getting fired for illegal drug use.

The Act wasn’t really intended to protect Christians from the dreaded Social Justice Warriors, but we Christians are really good at appropriating things intended for other people and making them our own (just look at the history of the holiday we just celebrated a few weeks ago!).  So, it should come as no surprise that many public-figure Christians, feeling as oppressed as if the early Roman days had returned, have seized on state-level versions of the RFRA as a way to continue allowing bigotry in the name of religion.  (Sorry, I started editorializing earlier than I meant to.)

The vast majority of people clamoring for these sorts of laws are Christian.  One of the most famous stories about Christ ends in the line “Render unto Caesar the things which are Caesar’s; and unto God the things that are God’s.”  (Your translation may differ, of course.)  (And of course, that doesn’t actually END the story, but I’m trying to make a point here.)  This is generally accepted to mean that being religious doesn’t mean you just get to ignore legal authority; you still have to follow the law.  (Paul goes farther, to suggest there’s a religious duty to follow legal authorities, but I’m not really a fan of Paul despite him supporting my argument here, so I think we’ll all agree to brush right by that.)  So, again, why do so many Christians think that they shouldn’t be bound by non-discrimination laws?

And, for that matter, what exactly constitutes discrimination?  Let’s take a look at a few cases to make sure we’re on the same page, because there's often a remarkable amount of confusion and straw men in this area:

No shirt, no shoes, no service

Scenario: Pretty self-explanatory, as everyone’s seen this sign before.

Is this discriminatory: No

Why?:  Two reasons.  First of all, there are compelling health reasons for such a rule in a restaurant, or even other places.  Second, and more germane to our discussion here, this rule applies to everyone, and is based on a choice that they’ve made, rather than who they are.  It’s not an issue of protected classes or religious principles; it’s simply that no one gets service under those circumstances, period.

The Friendship Moving Service

Scenario: The traditional help-your-friends-move-in-exchange-for-pizza-and-beer.  However, you don’t agree to help everyone who offers you pizza and beer move.

Is this discrimination: No

Why?: You could try to argue that since you’re accepting payment for a service, you’re running a business.  It’s a (huge) stretch, but let’s accept the premise for the sake of argument.  (I like arguments.)  It’s certainly not a public business that you’re running; you’re not offering a service to everyone who walks in your front door, because your business doesn't even have a "front door".  Turning down some random person who wants you to help them move in exchange for foodstuffs is hardly discriminatory, especially if you know nothing about them.  You're not turning them down because of who they are, aside from that they're not your friend.

The Wedding Flowers

Scenario: A florist sells flowers for a variety of occasions, including weddings.  However, she refuses to provide flowers for a wedding involving two gay men, despite providing them flowers on multiple occasions in the past, based on her religious convictions.

Is this discrimination: Yes

Why?: The florist is refusing to provide a service nominally available to everyone to certain individuals, based solely on an immutable characteristic that she doesn’t approve of.  This is literally a dictionary definition of discrimination.

How could discrimination have been avoided here (aside from just providing the flowers, obviously)?  Well, not providing wedding flowers at all, to anyone, means that it’s no longer discrimination, just a service that you don’t provide.  (This might go for wedding pizzas, too, on a variety of levels…)  This is the same reason why you couldn’t go to, say, Cupcake Royale and demand they make you a tiered wedding cake on pain of being sued for discrimination.  They don’t make that for anyone (I’m assuming), so it’s not discriminatory if they don’t make it for you.

The Hate Speech Cake

Scenario: Someone orders a cake in the shape of a Bible, and requests anti-gay decorations (Bible verses, “God hates gays”, X’ed out groomsmen, etc.) on the cake.  The baker refuses to decorate the cake in such a fashion, but offers to make a blank cake and provide frosting to decorate the cake later.

Is this discrimination: No

Why?:  As you can see, this was an actual case tpo, and the link above explains why this is not discrimination: As the baker would have refused to put such derogatory decorations on cakes for anyone, it’s not discriminatory.  When you treat everyone the same, there’s no possibility for discrimination.

How might this apply to, say, wedding cakes?  There’s perhaps an argument to be made that forcing the baker to write “Congratulations [gender-matching names]”, put two groomsmen on a cake, etc., might be an infringement on free speech.  However, refusing to make even a generic wedding cake is clearly out.

Okay, so now that we’re (hopefully) on the same page, let’s get back to the original topic.

I don’t think there’s actually any disagreement that the third case is actually discrimination.  The question is whether or not it should be allowable just because of religious convictions.

First of all, let’s agree that no one really wants the government to get into the business of deciding what true religious convictions are, let alone if they’re consistent with the supposed driving faith.  I honestly don’t believe that refusing to provide services to marriages between gay people is in line with Christianity, but plenty of other people do, and either way, I don’t think it’s a good idea to let the government arbitrate that.

Second, are there justifiable reasons for the government to prohibit discrimination?  This is where the usual argument of “Do you really want someone to bake your wedding cake under protest?” comes in.  But in general, of course the government has justifiable reasons to prohibit discrimination, and that question is rather beside the point.

As a starting point, imagine a small town, where there’s one gas station, one grocery store, etc.  If the owners of those stores were allowed to discriminate, sorry, “refuse to provide services based on religious convictions”, what happens to those they refuse to serve?  Do they have to drive 30 miles to the next town to get gas and groceries?  Do they have to move?  Why should religious convictions be allowed to significantly disrupt someone else’s life in such a manner?  It’s a simplistic case, sure, but that’s the general idea.  For a straightforward extension on this idea, look up “sundown towns”.

Third, there’s a difference between personal actions and business actions.  Well, maybe not entirely, according to Hobby Lobby, but I’ve got the Notorious R.B.G. on my side on this one, so I’m feeling pretty good about my position.  (Plus, allowing a company to be an extension of the stockholders’ personal beliefs could have some nasty side effects down the road; Hobby Lobby could wind up, on a number of fronts, being a case of “Be careful what you wish for”.)

If you want to be a jerk and refuse to be friends with, or even interact with, certain kinds of people in your personal life, then whatever, that’s on you.

But if you’re running a business, that’s not “you” any more, that’s a legal entity, subject to laws and regulations, and with certain advantages, such as decreased personal liability should the business fail.  Unless you’re an explicitly religious organization, then “your” religious convictions only matter insofar as how you decide to run your business within the applicable laws and regulations.  If you choose to run your business as an extension of your religious values, that’s your call, and who am I to say no?  But your legally-not-you legal construct still has to follow the laws governing its creation.

Ultimately, though, this is all beside the point.  What gain comes to people attempting to assert their religious convictions through their business?  What’s the argument for doing this?  Why would you even go into a business where you might be expected to do things you find morally distasteful?  (As you might guess, I don’t think much of moral objections by pharmacists, either.)

So you don’t want to provide flowers for two guys getting married, because you think “non-traditional marriage” is a sin.  There’s a theological argument to be made, sure, that participating in the ceremony, even to the limited extent of making and delivering a cake, means that you are participating in the sin, as well.  Two problems with this, though:

First, from a legal standpoint, your business is not you, and your business is subject to restrictions.  You may not agree with them personally, but a business has no opinion.  You may think that’s semantics, but it can also fall under the “render unto Caesar” argument I mentioned (way, way) above.  You may not like Caesar’s law, but if you’re part of his system, then you live by them.

And second, the ceremony itself isn’t the sin.  Odds are it’s only legal, not religious (although that’s slowly changing), and the real issue is the relationship itself, anyways.  If you’re truly concerned about the sin involved, have you done anything to try to fix that underlying issue?  Or have you just refused to “take part” in the ceremony and washed your hands of the whole deal?  Does that really absolve you of everything?

I really don’t have much else to say on this, I guess.  (Roughly 2500 words will do that.)  At this point, my emotional intensity on this topic is spent.  I’m just honestly baffled by the concept, because I really don’t understand why people feel they’re justified in using their business to inflict their religious views on others.  And no, other people aren’t inflicting their religious views on the business; when you open up a business to the public, you offer a service and don’t generally get to make distinctions like that.

I’m especially fed up with the Christians who would use these laws to their advantage, but scream bloody murder if some other religion (say, oh, I don’t know, Islam) tried to use them too.  If you’ll pardon the pun, this whole thing reeks of trying have their cake and eat it too.

So, in conclusion, I have two parting thoughts.  The first is how my “How the World Should Be” posts always seem to wind up, which is: “Being part of a society means you don’t always get your way.  Deal with it.”  And the second is the immortal words of Wil Wheaton: “Don’t be a dick.”

Times That JBrad Ignored the Clarinets: Vignettes of Neglect

All marching band sections have their own personality.  (Actually, I'm pretty sure all sections of any ensemble have their own personalities, but this is about marching band, so… yeah.)  Does the section make the personality?  Or are certain personalities attracted to certain instruments?  It's sort of the old "nature or nurture" debate, and as with every other such discussion, it's probably a bit of both.

We don't need to go into every section here (and I'm sure the personalities of a particular section often change between bands), but in general, clarinets are quiet, reliable, and responsible.  We're sort of the oldest child of the band: not necessarily a lot of fun, but dependable.  We're not likely to host many of the post-game parties (in fact, in my rookie year, most clarinets didn't even participate in the post-game parties!  We’re better now), but we're usually pretty well represented in student-staff positions.

Mix that sort of personality with an instrument that's pretty quiet out on the marching field and usually on the outside of the formations (because we're an instrument that's pretty quiet out on the marching field), and it can be awfully easy to forget about us sometimes.  However, there's just your common neglect, and then there's egregious neglect.  Here are a few stories about the more outrageous times we've been ignored.

(Reminder: Brad = JBrad = Director of Husky Marching Band)

1.  Can You Hear Us Now?

During music rehearsals, the band gathers in a series of concentric semicircles around the director's podium.  (Although "concentric semicircles" makes them sound a lot neater than they really are.  They're really wobbly, discontinuous arcs.)  This helps everyone to be able to hear and minimizes phasing across the band (where you hear the parts from one section earlier than those from another, due to sound not being instantaneous).  The clarinets are usually up front to the director's left.

One day, we'd just gotten a new set of sheet music for "Battle Hymn of the Republic".  I don't even remember what the theme was for the show, aside from it being a bit random.  Band day, maybe?  It was early in the year.)  Anyways, as we played through it, we clarinets started giving each other odd looks, stopping playing and looking closely at the music, and just generally giving off indications of bewilderment.  The reason?  This particular version of "Battle Hymn" sounded an awful lot like an up-beat dirge.  (Kind of like it was done by the guy who does changes songs from major keys to minor keys.  If you haven't listened to any of those, do yourself a favor and do so immediately.  You'll be glad you did; they’re really cool.)

This wasn't completely bizarre; we get some strange arrangements of songs sometimes.  (Or downright lousy arrangements at times.  There was one arrangement of Moon River (itself already a pretty bad song) that was so terrible that, in an uncustomary display of emotional demonstrativeness, I, in the middle of practice, tore it from my lyre, flung it to the ground, stomped on it, ripped it to tiny pieces, and then, when I got home, burned them.  Emily, the librarian at the time, was not pleased with me, but of course I had spare copies.  I still maintain that it deserved it.)  And it wasn't wrong, just different.

We played through it again, with the same result.  After the second play-through, Brad looks down at his score, then announces, "Make sure you have the right copy, because we changed the key.  You should all have green copies of the music."  And then, completely missing the clarinets (again, right in the front!) giving each other revelatory looks and taking the lavender sheets of music off of our lyres, he points somewhere off behind us and to our left, and says, "Something in that area doesn't sound right."

He hadn't even noticed that our entire section was off by a minor third.

2.  "I dunno.  I say do what you wanna do."

As I've already mentioned, Brad tends to forget that the clarinets exist out on the field, and sometimes gets a little focused between the 35-yard lines or so.  It's understandable, but it does mean that sometimes, if we're struggling with a particular move, whether because it's a long move, or the charts aren't clear, or whatever, he's moving on while we're still trying to puzzle it out.  This is common enough that I can't possibly recount every incidence of this.

However, there's one incident that occurs every year that deserves mention, just for being so spectacularly bad and, y’know, happening every year, regularly, without fail.

The very first part of the pregame show has the band starting in a block, and pulling out into a Logo W across the field.  For most people, this isn't that difficult: perhaps a small adjustment, and then just waiting for your turn to start marching downfield.  However, for those in the back, near the top of the W, this is a nightmare.

The drill for these positions (which were usually mostly pics and clarinets) is a nightmare of unclear charts, finicky and sometimes overlapping positioning, and odd counts and steps.  Combine this with the fact that you're learning it the first week of the marching season, so rookies are trying to absorb this with everything else, and it's routinely a disaster.  And since Brad is focused on the people simply marching at 8-to-5 down the field, he doesn't give us long between each move.

The generally accepted solution?  Ignore Brad right back.

Every year, the marchers in these unenviable positions* spend the first few run-throughs actually trying to keep up, only to realize (or remember) that this is completely, hopelessly, utterly futile.  Then we all look at each other, collectively say "Screw it", and huddle up to figure out where exactly everyone is supposed to be when, including all those times where that involves people simultaneously inhabiting the same small parcel of space-time (and not in the fun way).  It usually takes a couple days to figure everything out, and every year the solution is slightly different, but we get there in the end.

* Not that the other clarinet positions during pregame were particularly enviable, either (although it’s gotten much better recently).  Back when I was marching, we were still doing what we called the long run-on, which is where the band came running onto the field single-file to fill in the pregame block.  The clarinet spots are typically the first ones onto the field from either side.  In fact, my rookie year, I was the first one on the field after the drum majors.

This is less exciting than it sounds.

See, to get 200+ people onto the field and in their spots, one at a time, takes a couple minutes.  And once you get to your spot, you don’t just stop.  Oh, no, no, no.  You get to run in place, high-stepping the whole time, at a very uptempo pace, until everyone is in place.  And that’s after running (not just jogging) 50+ yards just to get to your spot (~26 yards into the center of the field, 20 yards upfield, plus the distance from back next to the stands).  As you can imagine, this leaves you a bit tired.  It’s also rather high-visibility, being right in front of the block and one of the only ones on the field at first, so you can’t slack.

After the run-on ends, you get roughly 7-10 seconds (depending on how quickly the PA announcer speaks) to stand at attention before proceeding to march (and play, don’t forget the playing) roughly 80 yards downfield, mark time while finishing the first song, and launch directly into the second song.  It’s… a workout, especially for your lung capacity.  And especially when you get to rehearse it several times in a row.

Fortunately for the marchers now, the long run-on is apparently gone, there’s a fanfare thing that starts the positioning for the pull-out Logo W (and probably helps the folks in the back with the finicky positioning, too), and there’s a break between the first and second songs.  They don’t know how easy they have it.

3.  Manus Celer Dei

My rookie year in band, Husky Stadium was also playing host to the Seahawks while (then) Seahawks Stadium was being built.  One benefit of this was brand-new FieldTurf to replace the old Astroturf.  (Another benefit was both college and pro markings on the field, which is a HUGE boon for marching.)

However, rather than do what any sensible organization would do and getting rid of the vile, abrasive stuff as quickly as possible (heck, I’d have a bonfire, never mind the fumes), someone decided that it would be a good idea to put strips of it down around the field, partially covering the track surrounding the field.  These strips were dozens of yards long and maybe ten yards wide.  It looked pretty tacky, and I’m not sure what purpose it served, but we all just kind of shrugged and went on with our lives.

Until one fateful November day.

I can’t tell you the exact day, but I do remember that we were rehearsing our Broadway show.  We were playing either Mean Green Mother from Outer Space or Oklahoma.  The day wasn’t actually too cold, as I recall, but it was insanely windy.  And the way Husky Stadium is built, with one open end and one closed end, wind tends to swirl a bit.

So there we were, struggling to march through the wind, in a very wide-set formation.  I was out past the 10-yard line in the closed end, and there were people outside of me, although I don’t think we quite got all the way out to the end zone, and of course the formation was symmetrical, so there are marchers out that far on the other end of the field, too.  We’re in the middle of a move, which has me pointed in more or less in the direction of the podium, when I catch a strange motion out of the corner of my eye.

I turn to look (I know, bad discipline), and realize that what I’m seeing is a bench from off the sideline, flying through the air down at the open end of the stadium.  My gaze turns a bit farther, and I see that what has provided the propulsive power to the airborne bench is a strip of the turf, which the wind has picked up off the ground, and which is now crashing like a giant (remember, the strips are ten yards wide, and at least parts of the strip are nearly vertical) green wave over the far end of the field near the sideline, swallowing everyone in its path.

And Brad doesn’t notice.  He just keeps on conducting.

I’m not sure if it was the vanishing of a sousa into the devouring turf or the people running from it that finally got his attention, but Brad calls a halt just as the last of the Astroturf smashes to the ground, and we all run over and start trying to pull the turf off of our fallen comrades.
 
Fortunately, no one was seriously injured, but the sousaphone itself was nearly flattened. 

And the strips of Astroturf vanished from the sidelines shortly thereafter.


So there you have it.  Three of the most egregious times I can remember when the clarinet section was ignored.  I’m sure there are plenty of other good stories out there, whether you’re a clarinet or not.  Anyone else want to share?