Star Trek: The College Years

Watched it yesterday. Go see it, you'll probably like it.

(spoiler laden review below the fold)
(if you're viewing this on the Facebook feed, try checking in at my actual blog: http://tomhand.blogspot.com , where there are no formatting SNAFU's to overcome- like the lack of an actual fold)




Some Thoughts:
Jar Jar Binks cum Scotty (the cute little rock guy) is for merchandising purposes- look at JJ Abrams, he does/understands marketing very well.

The time travel alternate universes is old old hat. It goes something like: At every decision there are, at least, two choices. You pick one and that becomes your universe. A different version of you picks a different option and that becomes a different universe. Now, to add some Micheal Chricton from Timeline, you can't actually TIME TRAVEL, but you can move to other, slower, universes that are very similar to your own (most of the choices have been the same, or all have been the same, so far). But that may be nit picky. They may posit actual time travel, but that the act creates the new universe, or any act done outside your natural timeline creates a new Alternate Reality.

Star Trek has already shown the alternate Realities, where they meet their EvilTwins(tm)- they did this a couple times in DS9 and once or more in TNG, but I could be wrong about the latter.

What pissed me off was:
The Blatant use of Time Travel as easy to use plot point. Others have already commented on this, so I'm just agreeing. "Why make it good, when we can make it EASY?"

The Internal Inconsistency: Red Matter makes a black hole- everyone travels safely back in time, no problems. Lots of Red Matter makes a big black hole (maybe)- with a visible accretion disk that's about the same size as the original hole (and by "about" I mean, I didn't notice any difference), yet this one destroys your dumb ass. Stupid.

Scene first, someone gets sucked out into space and there's no sound. Not five minutes later a shuttle craft buzzes the camera and we hear it whistle-puttering past. Stupid. Then there was the blatant stealing of cinematography- on the free fall to the drill platform- from Firefly: silent, off kilter, shakily acquired, zoomed in on.

Summation: I succeeded a little too well at psyching myself down about this movie. But worse, I was right: they did it the easy, commercial way, rather than spending their massive budget on something other than pretty-ness. The reboot of Star Trek will be profitable; but it won't be satisfying. What make me think so? THEY MISSED THE DAMN POINT! Spock is talking about "faith" and they're all talking about "destiny". To start with, this is just weasel words to absolve the individual from responsibility for their own actions. To finish, the episode they seem to be referencing is from TOS. SPock is told by Kirk to fly the shuttle craft in a way that is not logical, because MAYBE- if their faith in their crewmates is justified- the Enterprise will be able to save them (if not, they die for sure). So Spock does it, and they get saved and everyone dies from the cute sugary plot-like thing they've just swallowed, right? WRONG. The point was Spock was an absolutist: logic was ALWAYS the answer. The point was that absolutism eventually fails, and is just as short-sighted as anything else, when done fanatically. But Mr's Abrams, Orci, and Kurtzman don't want deeper meanings, or science, to get in the way of selling their fucking movie. So, expect horoscopes in the next one, or Feng Shoe-y , or goddamn chiropractors and homeopaths....
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Cool

Of course, you're all Doctor Who fans. And you like really cool things- like Tesla Coils being used as instruments... so:
http://www.boingboing.net/2009/02/20/tesla-coils-sing-the.html


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craptastic

Which is diametrically opposite of mantastic, just so you know...

"There is more than one of everything..."

"This truck was never made..."

And the FBI agent who hasn't watched enough Law and Order to know that "Was it a mask, or bandages?" is a leading question...

Craptastical.

UPDATE: COMPLETE, UNADULTERATED, HACKERY! Fucking douche bag, un-talented, commercialists. Dickwaded cockfingering turdshits.
Fucking Sans-tastical.
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Things

1) First, I see on WarrenEllis.com that Diamond has changed some metrics and a good number of comic books and their creators aren't gonna qualify to get DISTRIBUTED. This is not good news. Imagine if they'd done this when no one really knew Brian Wood, or any number of others. We could be without DMZ, Watchmen, and Transmetropolitan. If that's not scary, your head isn't on straight. The reverse may be true, though; this might be a victory for Print On Demand (POD). We can only hope. What it definitely does, and I hope I'm proven wrong on this, is make it that much more difficult to get new works out to enough people for newer works to be made and experience to be gained.

2) Went to the Sports Page, off South Parkway, and saw The Ugli Stick on Saturday (click the link, and listen to some of their stuff, it's all great). You really want to go see them, because in a few years it's gonna cost you your left testicle- a price you'll gladly pay by then. Better even than their skills as artists of the musical sort, they're all great guys. It's hard to describe their style. Suffice it to say, they take bits and pieces from every genre, combine 'em, force willing supplicants to snort 'em, and gently ape-fuck awesomeness out for your amusement. While Quintin shoots bass groves at you all night long, and your girlfriend fantasizes about Eric. Then Dale Jr opens up his pipes or bounces his fingers along the neck and you start wondering why people with so much talent aren't all fronting their own bands. Tim... he drums. I suspect the earphones he's wearing are repeating "Don't smile, they'll know!" When you catch your toes tappin' and your head noddin', don't look Tim in the eyes, lest he steal and consume your sweet sweet thinky-bits. (Thanks Yvonne, it really was a great show.) They'll be back in H-vegas on June 12, at the Sports Page.

3) Also, yesterday I hit a link to 13 mysteries in science. It was from New Scientist, I think, and written in 2005. It's a damn shame they lied about half of them- if not more- making unrepeatable results in one lab into a scientific mystery isn't exactly being factual. If you happen upon the link, do yourself a favor and ignore it. The three or five interesting mysteries aren't worth the bullshit.
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Great News, Again!

NASA announced Thursday an $18.69 billion budget for fiscal year 2010 to advance Earth science, complete the International Space Station, explore the solar system and conduct aeronautics research. The budget request represents an increase of $903.6 million, or 5 percent, above funding provided in the fiscal year 2009 Omnibus Appropriations Act. All totaled, an additional $2 billion has been added to NASA's 2009 and 2010 budgets under the Obama administration.

read on at:
http://www.nasa.gov/home/hqnews/2009/may/HQ_09-102_FY2010Budget.html
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Ah. ha. ha.

First seen on BadAstronomy

Trekkies Bash New Star Trek Film As 'Fun, Watchable'

Funny, True. But still..
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I can haz baby star lazers?

(from wired.com)

Three previous laser fusion systems have been built in the past 35 years at Livermore Lab, none of which produced enough energy to reach fusion. The first, Janus, went online in 1974. It created 10 joules of energy. The next experiment, in 1977, was a laser system known as Shiva, which achieved 10,000 joules.

Finally, in 1984, a project named Nova produced 30,000 joules, and it was the first time its creators actually believed there was a chance of fusion. This newest system by the NIF team is expected to create 1.8 million joules of ultraviolet energy, which scientists hypothesize will create a baby star in Livermore with positive power output.

read more at:
http://www.wired.com/science/discoveries/news/2009/05/gallery_nif

{By the by: I want like 8 of these for my birthday!}
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Story Time

The Community That Works Together

We always lived out in the country. The main road that runs on one side of the neighborhood was somewhat heavily trafficked- enough so that back in the days of letting your dogs roam freely, the gauge of how good your pet was depended on whether they got hit by a semi at night. But our streets were calm, except for when the latest wave of teenagers got drivers' licenses and would barrel down them at a neck-breaking forty miles per hour.

I remember the house getting built, and when I was 9 they finally paved the road- though, it's never had lines on it. We had fields behind our house, and beyond them the river. We'd fish and swim everyday during the summer, in what we later discovered to be the most agriculturally polluted river in the state.

Half the thick clumps of "virgin" forest we gallavanted through as youths have been destroyed. Modest suburban homes, with manicured lawns replaced the random, wild, leaf covered places of yesterday. That was called progress, or so they told me.

What I know is, everyone knew everyone when I was a kid. All day, during the summer, children on bikes would ride unmolested on the road ways; but they spent most of their time in the woods. We visited The River, or The Monkey Vine Jungle, or The Dam. We saw snakes, and fish, raccoons, opossums, deer, birds, and all manner of insects. We recognized a few dozen species of plants, malignant and benign.

And then the fields got sold, too.

All the other fields within a twenty miles had been sold and turned into housing divisions. People grew up and moved away, wistful for the past and resentful of the future. Nothing happened to the fields. New families moved in, with dogs in fences, and children who stayed inside- or no children at all. Dogs got shot if they roamed free- or put in the pound. The old families tried to contain their resentment; and fences blocked new explorers from Th Monkey Vine Jungle. Nothing happened to the fields.

At the same time the resentments were fading, and new friendships were in the wind, something else changed. The old mill, hidden in the woods beside The Dam, was torn down to the foundations. Marks were put on trees, and the shape of the land was changed. There were whispers of development. New friendships formed over resentment at the intrusion, and respect for natural beauty. We became a new community, forged from our mutual hate of future degradations. The fields were being replaced with a Water Treatment plant.

We wrote the newspaper; but there were more people nearby, but not in the neighborhood, who wanted it. People who didn't know, and therefor didn't care, about our hidden wonders wanted more more-ness. New families meant more infrastructure; and we were opposed to progress, or so they told me.

We railed and cried. We spoke out and spoke up. We protested, and sometimes- in the depth of night- we sabotaged. Little hindrances, nothing substantial, but it caused delays. Eventually, we were at our wits ends; and some hung their heads, steamrolled into the future. It was ironic, and the way of things; but it was also profoundly sad.

Until we found help. Not from those nearby, who could come down and see our hidden beauties, our River and our Dam. But from a group of people with money- a group not like us in their wealth- from across the world: California. They sent in scientists, and used the law against the lawmakers. The environmental impact study halted the earth movers, the concrete pourers, and progress.

We put on a bake sale. We held a golf tournament. We did odd jobs, and we started a foundation for the preservation of Rural Life and Natural Beauty. The environmental impact was significant enough to warrant a government funded study; and we had more time. We held a block party, and invited the entire county. We barbequed, we held fundraisers, we washed cars, and we developed plans. In three years we had made money, and we bought our fields back.

There was a three day celebration, with guided nature tours. The kids rode their four wheelers, and the grown-ups smiled constantly. We were victorious! The underdogs had won! The county built their plant somewhere else; none of us knew where. We were the modern progressives, turning our fields into a community owned garden, park, and nature preserve; or so they told me.

We couldn't grow that, because it negatively affected those others. The lack of rotation meant weaker yields over the years. Dogs had to be on leashes, and our insurance wouldn't let anyone too near The Dam, and certainly not in The River. Our property values soared. The neighborhood bought better, bigger cars, and put up fences. Horses were only allowed on the trails, specifically marked, made for them; and the same for the four wheelers. Hunting was prohibited, but we put in a shooting range where the mill once stood. A picnic area and campsite were installed soon after- no more primitive camping for us!

The new kids grew up, and went off to college. The single family suburban homes were too empty, and too much to take care of; but they sold for twice the price they had been built. The lure of money, and the lack of family, tore people away. They were too old to walk all the trails, to take advantage of the vast natural splendors. New families moved in, and the progress we had fought continued unabated in new forms.

There's a clubhouse where we once grew vegetables. The River was shored up, and the old flood plains are cabins. It's three thousand a year for a family to have full access to the grounds; and that's a deal compared to what families outside the neighborhood pay! My nephew's kids enjoy the pool.

I had to put an eight-foot privacy fence around my yard because I refused to follow the homeowners' associations lawn grooming bylaws. If you put your hand up- and no one has a fire going in any of the cabins, and the people at the shooting range aren't shooting too often- and you cover the land so you only see the tops of the hills in the distance, the autumn sunsets still look the same.

I watch those magnificent paintings in the sky. I tore down the old house years ago, and built one that would last more than a couple decades. My porch is perfect for such viewings, and my privacy fence means I don't have to hold up my hand. I think back to playing in the woods, climbing the trees where houses now stand. I remember my first kiss, playful and inquisitive in woods that were replaced by the Clubhouse parking lot. And I remember our battle against progress, when I was so worried about the contamination to our well- which I had to abandon when they shored up the river.

We were poor when we built the old house, and all the time I was growing up; or so they told me. I had a bicycle and a BB gun, and all the woods in the world to explore; I thought I was rich. If I wait three more years before I finally move away from this place where, they tell me, I grew up; I'll be rich. Whoever moves in after me can live their lives behind my privacy fence; and if they pay their dues, they can walk in wonder, staring at the manicured nature I helped protect from progress.

(c) 2009 Tom Hand
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Funny Commercials

These Hulu commercials are funny as hell:



"And you're not soup, yet."

(P.S. My brains last, Dennis SAID!)
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Ted Talks- Shadow Cities

TED Talks are interesting things. I've probably watched 50 or more in the last year or so.

Today, I watched this one, by Robert Neuwirth, about "Shadow Cities". It's very neat, lots of pictures of squatter villages, lots of information about squatter villages around the world: Rio, Turkey, Kenya, etc. Only about 14-15 min, definitely worth watching.

He has some statistics in there:
* Today 1 in 6 people, on the planet, are squatters (about a billion people worldwide).
* By 2030, 1 in four people. (2 billion squatters of roughly 8 billion people total)
* By 2050, "better than" 1 in 3 people. (3 billion squatters out of almost 9 billion people total)

Those numbers aren't just interesting because of their predictions of squatting/squatters; but for their predictions of the worldwide population.
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