Jason F.C. Clarke

So–the three of you who read my blog yesterday may have thought I was the author of yesterday’s post. Why wouldn’t you? That would be a reasonable assumption, since after all, this is my blog, and you have not had any past experience to suggest that anyone other than me would be writing it. But your reasonable assumption, founded on sound rational principles, would be wrong!

The actual author of the previous post is one Ed “Ed-man” Humphries, my esteemed cousin and owner of The Ed Zone. We sure pulled the wool over their eyes, didn’t we, Ed!

In point of fact (an excellent way of writing “in fact,” except that it gets you an additional two words, which matters when one gets paid by the word, which I don’t for this blog, but do in other areas on my professional career), not only did Ed write my blog entry, but I wrote one for Ed, informing his trusting readership that, with my aid, he had sold a screenplay to the Lords of Hollywood.

Now, for the record, my fake post did not fool one single person, nor did it, as of 12:30 the following day, inspire a single comment. Judging from the ratio of comments to Ed’s second April Fool’s post, it’s apparent his close friends and family are more willing to believe he would abandon them for Iowa at the drop of a hat than the notion that he could make a mint selling a screenplay. If I sound bitter, it’s only because I am.

Speaking of commenting, I’ve now altered my comment system so that TypeKey registration is no longer necessary. This means I’ll have to monitor for spam comments, but it also means you’ll be able to leave comments without any annoying registration process, so please, give me feedback, for good or ill. If you have any problems with commenting, please email me and let me know.

Recently, I used this forum as my own personal confessional to reveal a deep, dark secret that I’ve been harboring for some time. Now, given that new updates to this site adhere less to a strict daily schedule and arrive more or less on time to herald the new equinox–I thought the rest of this missive would be best served if I offered up a bit of a primer.

So what is the true nature of this ‘tricksy’ skeleton that’s been dogging my every step? Well, if you have to pry it out of me–it’s no less than the grand revelation that Jesus of Nazareth married Mary Magdalene, fathered a child who fled to France and… oh hell, while I’m deconstructing dogma and spoiling flicks I might as well dive deep–Johnny Noxville provides the greatest portrayal of a developmentally challenged individual in The Ringer since Giovanni Ribisi in… well, just about everything, Denzel discovers ‘this ain’t no bank robbery’ while investigating Clive Owen’s pursuit of Christopher Plummer’s Nazi gold in Inside Man, and that dude in She’s The Man is really a chick.

So at this point, you’re all wondering, what chimp-ruled faux-Earth have we set foot on anyway?

Damn you! Damn you all to hell!!!

I apologize for the tangent–got slightly derailed there. So where was I? Oh yes, I was bringing you up to speed on my big revelation. Well–for those that follow this cyber confessional–I recently revealed my recurring affliction with seasonal affective disorder. Unfortunately, it’s the price I pay for remaining rooted in the New England area. I’ve written in the past of my love for a region with four discernable seasons–and in particular, I heart Autumn.

Unfortunately, the cold outlasts the warmth. Still I take heart in the notion that mankind is steadily chipping away at that pesky ozone layer. News of an extended El Nino just brings a smile to my lips. Hey–I spent the better part of the nineties bringing order to my slacker do by shellacking it four times daily with a healthy sheen of Aqua-Net. To further my equal parts selfish and wickedly nefarious desire for perpetual daylight, I ripped a page from Biggie Smalls book–one spray for me and one spray for my homies–pointing the can skyward and launching an arch of ass-kicking aerosol straight towards the heavens. I’d rip that ozone a new one. ‘Course, I’m not straight outta’ Compton, I’m straight outta’ Cranberry Country.

But, the pleasant surprise is Springtime, and warm weather, finally appears to be on fast approach after a slightly delayed arrival. That punkass Punxsutawney is the biggest sham ever perpetrated on mankind… What’s that? Oh yeah, that Da Vinci thing again! O.K. So Phil and Pontius are neck and neck.

With the arrival of spring, my creative juices have recharged–leading me to revisit my rant against the forces that conspire against me to embrace Battlestar Galactica like it was the next Red Dwarf.

I just don’t get this Geek Mythology.

The Geeks spend every waking moment of their high school existence decimating the concept of cliques–deriding their peers for banding together around shared interests–and keeping them on the outside looking in. The Beautiful People are labeled shallow, self-centered and narcissists. I guess when you’re knee deep in the muck, it’s difficult to discern the real lay of the land.

Then college arrives and everyone reboots–you move to a different city, you mingle with different people, you loosen your baggage and come into your own. Rolls reverse. Jocks date geeks. Nerds mack on preps. Dogs marry cats. Up is down. Black is white. Paula Abdul is stable.

Then you go to work and you find yourself in the IT department and a quick scan across the shanty town of cubicles known as Corporate America provides you with an inventory of every superhero that has ever graduated the JLA. That’s short-hand for Justice League of America but if you avoid the acronym, the Geek Chorus propels you to the top of their ‘watch list’. Years ago, it was rumored that the NSA used to monitor library databases in a bid to red flag all those checking out The Catcher in the Rye in order to nab the next great anarchist. I did them a solid and sent them a detailed inventory of every action figure and it’s owner in my office. You have Orco getting it on with Steve Nelson on your desk–you’re now officially on their ‘watch list’.

And the geeks will ostracize anyone that doesn’t share in their nerdgasm. In the late 90’s, it was the Matrix. Then it was the Lord of the Rings trilogy. Then we were all forced to welcome back Potter and the rest of our Hogwarts heroes. Now, we’ve gone all retro and if you aren’t down with Battlestar Galactica or Dr. Who, you’re frakked. Where’s the love for Surface?

I remember high school well enough. Most people are lying if they say they had a swell time–hormones prohibit that–but when looking back at the cliques that assembled there and the segregation that rocks most suburban office parks–it becomes far too apparent how quickly the Geeks have become Those They Chose Not To Speak Of. Being a fanatic is great–having a passion for a pastime is wonderfully therapeutic–sharing our interests with others helps to pass the time and prevent monotonous clockwatching–but this strong arm approach, the threat that ‘Order 66’ will be declared on your ass if you skip one episode of Trading Maces–it’s a bit too much.

This proud fanboy offers up the following challenge to my brethren. Can’t we all just get along? Let’s sample the buffet and enjoy a wide variety of interests (well, except Nightwatch. Why is it that a cribbed cocktail of Star Wars, The Matrix and X-Men is declared the greatest science fiction work of all time simply because a Russki directed it?)

Bottom line. Enough with the big fat geek meddling. I liked you guys a lot better when you stayed in on Friday nights downing Mountain Dew and noshing on Bugles while beating your +5 Mystical Bishop (an act lovingly referred to as Draggin’ the Dungeon.)

Well, I’ve said enough. I gotta’ get working on my next post. See ya ’round Arbor Day.

The spring equinox has come and gone, and my usual concomitant madness seems to be dying down as well. I tend to get a little nutty in March. I used to think it was seasonal affective disorder, which I suppose it kind of is, but not in the clinical sense; it’s more that, come March, I (like many New Englanders) begin to believe that there will never be light or warmth in this world again. The nonexistent May and mild summer last year didn’t help either–it feels like a long time since I enjoyed a warm, sunny day.

Of course, my company, being very computer-oriented, keeps all but the most necessary lights off, meaning I spend my days in what is essentially a well-networked tomb. As someone who needs a certain amount of sunlight each day, my recent bout with a terrible cold and the mild insanity following were perhaps inevitable.

But I’m feeling much better now. Honest.

ToyFare magazine has a section called “The Monthly Rag,” which is basically a collection of fake news article a la The Onion, with a focus on toys. They accepted two of my article pitches, so look for those in an upcoming issue. In the meantime I continue to write the “What’s In Store” section in the price guide every month.

I saw V for Vendetta over the weekend. I’ll review it in a separate entry.

Last night I attempted to upgrade the site to the latest version of MovableType, but discovered it was far more complicated than I cared to deal with. I could have managed to get the new system installed, import all the old entries and fix the website templates, given enough time, but there wasn’t a real need and I didn’t feel like spending days and days figuring it out. Thankfully I’d backed up the site and was able to put everything back. One change I do hope to make in the near future, however, is to add comments.

In other news, my girlfriend, who goes by DottyGale (DG) online, has start a new blog. She hopes to update at least as frequently as I update this thing, so the time to beat is twice a month. Update: I’ve also added the blog of my cousin Ed Humphries, the funniest man ever to take a bath in his underwear.

My immersion into the Whedonverse continued unabated this weekend. DG and I watched Serenity on Saturday (finally, after owning it for two months). (Spoilers ahead.) I enjoyed it; DG thought it was depressing. Which it was, I suppose, but I really liked it. Interesting characters, great action, a story with a message, and special effects that served the story rather than the marketing budget–maybe I’ve just seen so many bad science fiction movies that it was immensely refreshing to see a good one. I’ll admit the movie probably wasn’t as good as the series (shades of X-Files), but it was still better than 90% of what Hollywood puts out in terms of science fiction every year.

On Sunday we started Buffy season six. For those keeping track, I still need to see Buffy seasons 6-7 and Angel 3-5. We’re also trying to get through the first season of the new Battlestar Galactica, but despite the fact that it’s the only water cooler show at my geek-oriented office, I just can’t seem to get into it. At the very least, I can’t motivate myself to watch it when I could be watching a Buffy or Angel episode. Perhaps after we’ve finished those.

I finished reading Philip Pullman’s “His Dark Materials” trilogy. I enjoyed it immensely and highly recommend it to just about anyone. It’s written for a late adolescent or teenage audience, but the subject matter is often very adult. It’s one of those truly great coming-of-age books–and an excellent fantast adventure as well. It was also nice to read the prose of a skilled writer; I’ve been reading so many comics and not-so-great novels lately, I’d forgotten what truly great writing was like.

Today my car decided to turn on its Service Engine Soon light. My car is a ’98 Nissan Maxima I bought from the previous owner about five months ago. It’s got 127,000 miles on it, and I have to admit to being more than a little apprehensive as to what tomorrow’s check-up will bring. It’s been a great car so far–here’s hoping it’s just some faulty wiring or something.

I discovered last week that Toy Biz will be releasing a special Marvel Monsters box set of action figures. Basically, they’re super-articulated versions of Frankenstein’s Monster, Dracula, the Wolf Man, and a zombie. Yes, technically they all come from specific Marvel comics, but that doesn’t matter–I plan to put mine up against Buffy and Angel. Or maybe Dracula and Angel can just fight over Buffy.

Following last entry’s rant about Battlestar Galactica, I started watching the show and I concede that it is good, though–as I suspected–it was so over-hyped to me that it couldn’t possibly live up to expectation. Also, it’s a bit of a downer of a show. Granted, a galactic apocalypse has basically just occurred, but still, it’s human nature to inject a little levity into any situation…but I suppose it makes sense that we won’t be seeing any BSG versions of “War of the Coprophages.” (Unless they took place entirely in Baltar’s head.)

I saw King Kong last weekend. It was about what I have come to expect from Peter Jackson, with many earnest slow-motion-Vaseline-lens-one-castrato-note scenes, which started to get a little old in Return of the King. The action sequences were also much too long and exhausting and three or four subplots could have been removed and aided both the overly long running time and the overall quality of the story. But PJ still makes films that are far better than most of what Hollywood produces (to paraphrase Bill Watterson, is it any wonder wonder we haven’t been contacted by aliens when our race is responsible for things like The Ringer?).

I started playing the Western first-person-shooter GUN last week as well. I’m rediscovering some interest in the FPS, which I mostly lost my taste for a few years ago (with the notable exception of Halo). I still prefer third-person action games (the first Buffy the Vampire Slayer game for Xbox–not the “Chaos Bleeds” sequel–is the most fun I’ve had playing a videogame in a long time), but as first-person-shooters go, GUN is fun–for about four hours at least. I have to admit to losing interest after that point, as the game becomes a little repetitive, but I have to grant that part of the blame rests on the fact, unbeknownst to me, the game does not have an autosave function, which meant that I ended up losing my initial four-hour investment. By the time I’d gone back and caught up to the same point (being careful to save this time), the repetitiveness had gotten to me.

I do think that Westerns are an underdeveloped genre for videogames. Another FPS, Darkwatch, mixes the Old West with vampire lore, which seems pretty cool. While I’m not really interested in the game, I am curious to find out whether any writers have tried something similar in a novel or comic–crossing the Old West with horror or fantasy (I believe Stephen King’s Dark Tower books are something like that).

Currently reading the first of Philip Pullman’s “His Dark Materials” trilogy. Interesting so far, but as usual I’m getting bogged down in trying to figure out the mechanics of Pullman’s fictional Earth, rather than letting myself get involved in the story.

The girlfriend and I are also working our way through the second season of Angel, having wrapped up Buffy season five. Upon watching the first season of Angel, I initially found it preferable to Buffy, but now I’m not so sure; despite three seasons of Buffy and one-and-a-half seasons of his own show, Angel still seems like a surprisingly underdeveloped character. At the same time, the way in which he is developing–loosening up, singing in karaoke bars, wearing varied clothing, getting bogged down in earthy details–feels amusing and innovative and, oddly, wrong and vaguely unrealistic. They’re playing on the archetype of the brooding dark avenger, but it feels like they’re also making Angel a bit less mature.

That was always his selling point to me–he wasn’t so self-absorbed and self-martyrizing as Buffy; he had centuries of life experience (including at least a hundred years as a “good guy”) and a gravitas that was shaken only by his enigmatic love for Buffy. Now he–and the other characters on the show–are beginning to act less like a mature version of the Scooby gang from Buffy and more like teenagers in a soap opera (while, interestingly, the Scoobies mature and develop, and go down a darker and inevitably more adult path on Buffy).

I’ve still got to write that Buffy/Angel/Hellboy pastiche at some point.