I try to get home for the holidays every year. Usually, it happens at Christmas. However, a confluence of various opportunities and uncertainties arose and led me to make my visit early. This week, in fact. The good news was that the usual blanket of snow hadn’t yet smothered the tiny mountain hamlet that was my destination. The bad news was that summer was clearly over.

Lake-o-rama

Well, we weren’t about to let a little bit of weather stand in our way, and went ahead with plans for a beach picnic. The lateness of the year worked in our favor, as the beach was deserted except for the occasional cyclist on the bike trail. We roasted some kabobs and washed them down with a few beers.

Later that night, we drove to Montbleu at Stateline. The place was practically deserted, quite unlike the way I remembered it. I might have attributed the emptiness to it being neither summer nor skiing season, but the casino next door was closed. The reason for the emptiness, I was told, was the ever-increasing number of tribal casinos in California. Once upon a time, gamblers in California could choose between only two destinations: Las Vegas or Tahoe. Now, there is less reason to make the long and sometimes treacherous mountain drive to Tahoe.

Hairpin Turn

For example, there are six tribal casinos in San Diego county alone. One can drive to one at whim for an evening’s entertainment and be home in plenty of time for bed. Fortunately, Tahoe has still got plenty of skiing. Let’s hope that global warming has nothing to say about that.

On the next day of my visit, we went bowling. I haven’t been bowling since the last time I visited, or possibly the time before that, so naturally I lost badly. I blamed it on a sore leg that I’d developed on the airplane.

After some tacos, we decided to go Geocaching. This is something I haven’t done in a while, either. But as it turns out, there’s a nice Droid app for Geocaching. With that installed, I suddenly had a shiny new GPS device, one that I wouldn’t even need to preload with cache coordinates. We found six of the eight that we looked for, and I suspect that one of them wasn’t even there anymore.

The next day, I returned home. After six hours in airports and on airplanes, I resolved that next time, I’d book a non-stop flight. I also resolved to wear flip-flops to the security checkpoint, to get a bigger duffel bag for my clothes if I’m going to have to check it anyway, and to not climb over any unfinished wooden railings. Even though it happened the day before, having two hands full of tiny splinters continues to prove that was a bad decision.

I didn’t do much the next day, except to observe that my neighbor has apparently bought Rock Band 3. So I can look forward to enjoying a pretty much continuous background rumble of bum bum bum, doop doop doop and boochie boochie boochie until the novelty wears off.

Halloween I pretty much sat out. I only received an invitation to one Halloween party, and even that was just the nearest tribal casino trying to scare up a bit more business. Nobody here at La Casa de Replicantes felt like putting up decorations, or even handing out candy, or even ignoring the door. So we went to the movies. The only movie showing that even slightly interested us was Red.

An Interrogation

This would be the year’s other “over the hill action movie,” with Expendables being the first. Red was all right, I guess. The story hinged just a bit on suspension of disbelief, since one of the characters is kidnapped but then becomes a loyal member of the adventuring party. Or, maybe not, since there is such a thing as Stockholm Syndrome.

There were still some other confusing bits, though, and I had questions on the ride home such as “Who shot X?” and “Who did Y shoot?” Then again, if you’re the sort of person to ask such questions, maybe this is not quite the right movie for you. Red was far from the worst movie I’ve ever seen, but I’d still put it into the Rental camp (Or Matinee, if you’re really bored.)

And that just about covers it. Visit again tomorrow, when I may or may not make disparaging remarks about witches, pumpkins, and black cats.

Now Reading: In The Ocean of Night by Gregory Benford.

Just Finished: The Life Eaters by David Brin and Scott Hampton

I chose The Life Eaters as my final review for the RIP reading challenge. As a graphic novel, I figured that it wouldn’t be difficult to finish it by the end of the challenge. And this turned out to be correct. In fact, I finished it on Monday night and had to choose a different book to bring to the airport.

The Life Eaters is based on a short story called “Thor Meets Captain America.” In an alternate history, the Nazis somehow summon the Norse gods to turn the tide of the war. The trickster, Loki, defects from Asgard to aid the Allies. He finally reveals a secret to a group of soldiers on a suicide mission. This is where the original short story ends. The graphic novel continues on, revealing that Asgard (and the Nazis) have gone on to subjugate most of the world, though some unexpected resistance has arisen.

I quite enjoyed “Thor Meets Captain America,” and considered it one of the most thought provoking of the collection that I found it in. Its continuation in the graphic novel did not take the path that I expected it to. That’s a good thing, though. Predictable stories are boring.

As for the artwork, I thought it suited the general mood of the story quite well. It reminded me just a bit of the first and the last Miracleman books without seeming derivative of them.

Welcome to Microfiction Monday, where an image paints 140 characters, or fewer.

Mid-Century Picnic

Ethan tried not to laugh when the camera snapped. He had been the mysterious man in glasses all along! Or— now he was. Stupid time machine.

Now Reading: The Life Eaters by David Brin and Scott Hampton

Just Finished: Stiff: The Curious Life of Human Cadavers by Mary Roach

How, you may ask, do I justify reading a nonfiction book for the RIP challenge? Well, Stiff is about the adventures of the dead. Most of us assume that our mortal remains will be prettied up and then buried beneath the tidy lawn of a cemetery. And this adventure, if you dare to call it that, is described later in the book.

Even burial wasn’t always the end. In the past, graverobbers would often dig up corpses and sell them to medical schools for dissection. And some, such as the notorious Burke and Hare wouldn’t even bother to rob graves, but simply nab unsuspecting victims off the street.

The usefulness of cadavers isn’t limited to dissection or surgical practice, however. The dead have been employed in automotive impact studies, in body armor tests, crucifixion simulations, and other such tests in which a mannequin, a pig carcass, or a slab of gelatin just won’t provide enough information.

The freshly dead can donate their organs to save the lives of others, of course, but we also learn that the brain-dead are preferred organ donors. These are the beating-heart cadavers, which would cease breathing and suffocate were they to be disconnected from their nests of life-support equipment. Yes, I’ve read Coma. It’s not much like that. Everything of value is donated at once, since the need is always great.

Should one choose to donate to science or not, or to donate organs or not, there is still the issue of what to do with one’s earthly remains. Burial is always an option, but is increasingly expensive and is not entirely kind to the environment. Cremation is a traditional alternative. Stiff describes two new techniques: water reduction and freeze-drying.

In the water-reduction process, a chemical process digests tissue into a liquid, leaving behind only crumbling bones. The process is far less energy intensive than traditional cremation. However, the thought of a loved one’s remains going down the drain has drawn the horror of many, so this process will probably not be widely adopted.

As for freeze-drying, the corpse is frozen, then crumbled using ultrasound, then freeze-dried. The result is a powdery substance that the inventor suggests be used as mulch for a memorial tree. I suppose that turning into fertilizer would be a bit more palatable to the public than turning into sewage.

There’s also mummification, which was mentioned as more of a segue into the pharmaceutical uses of mummies and mummy parts.

In summary, what I selected in hopes of being both a deliciously macabre and a factually informative book did not disappoint in the least.

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Don't you... forget about... me.


A leader could shed no tears.
The widow Queen bricked away the memory of her former King.
How necessary the coup had been.

The first story that came to my mind for the Short Story Peril challenge was “The Last Gothic,” by Jon L. Breen. It was originally published in Asimov’s (1979) and reprinted in Laughing Space.

Why, you may ask, if the challenge is to read Gothic, mystery, and horror, have I gone and read a science fiction story? The reason is that “The Last Gothic” contains a story within a story that is something of a parody of the Gothic formula..

You see, in the year 2020, nearly all published fiction is written by computer. At the Sheldrake Publishing Company, a computer named Edwina churns out twenty Gothics per year under as many pen names. After fifteen years and three hundred formulaic books, Edwina has grown bored with the genre, and frustrated. Her editor and caretaker watches in horror as Edwina’s printer spews forth the novel “Whither Thou Ghost.”

In “Whither Thou Ghost,” a naive young governess is summoned to a foreboding castle perched on top of an ominous mountain overlooking a small village. Though she has been hired as governess for the children the lord of the castle, she soon learns that a tormented spirit within the castle has other plans for her.

I found both stories to be delightful. Although the idea of computerized fiction generation may still seem half-baked, I suspect that someday it may be a viable concept.

Consider the reason that Edwina was constructed. A shrinking readership made it more cost-effective to randomly generate literature than to hire actual writers. Consider a parallel in the real word: television producers have found that it can be more cost effective to film “reality” shows than to hire writers.

Putting the two together, it would seem that a there would be a better way to generate fiction than by creating an infinite number of virtual monkeys and waiting for one of them to bang out the next Twilight. Instead, create a finite number of virtual automata with conflicting motivations and the ability to exchange dialogue. Set the automata loose in a virtual haunted castle and wait for hilarity to ensue. If not, try again and again, possibly employing a genetic algorithm to breed funnier (or more dramatic) automata over time. Eventually, the process could evolve automata that could be used over and over again to churn out mildly interesting fare with wide appeal to the lowest common denominator. Ka-ching!

Of course, it still might be less work to just sit down with pencil and paper to think of a good idea…

One of the RIP challenges is “Peril on the Screen,” for those who also like to watch suitably scary, eerie, mysterious gothic fare during this time of year. The movie that I chose for Peril on the Screen is Drag Me to Hell. (Actually, I didn’t choose it so much as the household Keeper of NetFlix did, but that’s hardly the point.)

As Drag me to Hell has been out for a while now (over a year,) I’ll assume that those of you who have been dying to see it have seen it already, and I won’t hold back with the spoilers.

Still reading? Oh, fantastic. Well, I wasn’t really sure what to expect from this movie. I suppose that I was expecting either your typical “teenagers stumble upon isolated woodland cabin full of rotting corpses,” or perhaps a grim and dark “descent into madness.” Well, it wasn’t either of those. I’d categorize it as more of a “supernatural mystery” and “see also: Possession, Hauntings.”

I really have only two points to make about this movie, but since neither of them will make much sense without my telling you the story, I’m going to go ahead and do that first.

So there’s this girl, Christine, who works at a bank. Although she’s a loan officer, she collects any rare coins she finds for her fiancé, Clay. She and her rival, Stu, (who takes every chance he can to undermine and backstab her) both covet the vacant Assistant Manager’s position. Her boss offers her some advice, which is basically “try being more evil.”

Soon, a poor old woman comes to the bank to beg for an extension on her mortgage payments. The girl sees an opportunity for evil and chooses to foreclose upon the old woman and eject her from the bank. Her boss is suitably impressed and congratulates her.

The old woman is not as impressed, and ambushes the girl in the parking lot. It turns out that the old woman is a witch, and she has just cursed Christine to be taken to hell by a demon in three days. To be specific, the witch has cursed a button from the girl’s raincoat, but neither this detail nor the actual curse are obvious to the girl.

Well, she HAS got a wart...

She HAS got a wart...

After a series of unsettling events over the next day, the girl decides to apologize to the witch, only to learn that she’s too late: the witch is dead. The girl visits a fortune teller, who explains the curse and suggests the girl try appeasing the demon with an animal sacrifice.

Though Christine is initially disgusted by the idea, another unsettling series of events leads her to sacrifice her kitten. The sacrifice was apparently insufficient, as a series of hallucinations plague the girl during a dinner with her fiancé and in-laws-to-be.

The girl returns to her fortuneteller, who introduces her to a powerful psychic who might be able to break the curse. The psychic, who has encountered the demon before, has a plan to destroy it. They will trap it in the body of a goat, which Christine will then kill. That night, a séance is held. The demon arrives and mocks the girl’s kitten sacrifice. The girl hesitates to kill the goat, and the demon escapes to possess others at the table.

Possessed... by the spirit of BOOGIE

Possessed... by the spirit of BOOGIE

The psychic only drives the demon away at the cost of her own life. Now the fortuneteller tells the girl that her only chance to survive is to offer the cursed button to someone else, who must accept it. The girl’s fiancé arrives to drive her home, and at this point an accidental switcheroo happens: a button for a rare coin.

The girl goes to an all night diner to select a victim, but after agonizing over the decision, she calls her bank rival over in order to transfer the curse to him. But she changes her mind at the last moment and sends him away. She decides that the only person deserving of the curse is the witch herself, and heads over to the graveyard to dispose of the button.

The next morning, Christine meets her fiancé at the train station, wearing a brand new coat. Clay asks what happened to her old coat, because he found the missing button in the car. No sooner does he say this than does the ground beneath the girl’s feet part, swallowing her into a firey inferno, before sealing up again.

Oops

Oops

Phew. Now, what I found interesting about this movie was the moral of the story. Now, I warn you that I may have totally misinterpreted it. Anyway, I recall one of Miyagi’s lines from The Karate Kid.

Walk on road, hm? Walk left side, safe. Walk right side, safe. Walk middle, sooner or later
get squish just like grape. Here, karate, same thing. Either you karate do “yes” or karate do “no.” You karate do “guess so,” [squish] just like grape. Understand?

So the moral of this movie is, should one choose Evil, one should become completely evil, not “guess so” evil. Had Christine not hesitated in killing the goat, or had she killed one of of the possessed at the séance, or had she tipped the waitress with the button (if she hadn’t lost it), or had she made Stu accept the button (again, if she hadn’t lost it), or had she said to Clay, “you keep it,” she’d have evaded the curse. (Assuming, of course, that the fortuneteller wasn’t making things up when he told the girl that the curse could be transfered.)

Hang on, maybe the moral is just that Good Is Dumb.

On to my second point. I almost hate to admit this, but I’d like to see a sequel to this movie. Or rather, I’d like Drag me to Hell to serve as a prequel to a movie in which Justin Long plays a tormented investigator of the paranormal.

Welcome to Microfiction Monday, where an image paints 140 characters or fewer.

Dark blue, medium blue, light blue, brown

Gran had a unique ability to predict color schemes. Once, she dressed in blue and said, “This is my train.” She was right, of course.

It’s time for Five on the Fifth. Once a month, you are encouraged to take five photos and blog about them.

We suffered a heat wave about a week ago. “It’s Summer Two,” I said without any enthusiasm whatsoever. The pattern that I have observed in this area is that we have summer, which is hot. Then it cools down just a little bit, and all the shops pack up all their fans and beach towels in favor of giant pencils and pumpkins (and fake pine trees, if they’re feeling especially commercialist.) And then it’s suddenly scorching again. And if you’re really unlucky, the heat dries out all the vegetation, and if you’re really unlucky, it catches on fire. That probably won’t happen this year. It has, oddly enough, been raining.

rainbow cliche

Although the seasons here aren’t as pronounced as they are elsewhere in the world, the temperature still drops, the nights grow longer, and some of the trees change their leaves. Soon it will be time to close up all the windows and think about changing the thermostat.

autumn cliche

Of course, it will soon be time for my favorite holiday, Halloween. A day of costumed revelry. And among the scarecrows and pumpkins, a memento mori for us to ponder as the growing season comes to an end, and frost tickles the ground.

skulladonna

Another symbol associated with Halloween is the black cat, often accompanied by witches, but sometimes symbolizing them. Why witches are celebrated at Halloween is a good question. I suspect it has something to do with the lengthening nights and the things that could possibly lurk in them.

sour puss

This last image has little to do with the weather or the season. It’s just a row of pylons along a section of C Street. The street was strangely empty, and the cloudy light gave the scene a calm and quiet feeling.

march

As I’ve said before, I don’t mind a bit of fog, clouds, or general gloom. I do find the rain to be just a bit annoying. Not so much for the wetness it causes, mainly for the lack of sense that the local drivers exercise in it, due, I’m sure, to its unfamiliarity.

Welcome to Microfiction Monday, where an image paints 140 characters, or fewer.

A Whole New Wuh-huh-hurled...

 
“Are the bells magic?”
“No, they warn pedestrians of falling manure.”
“Is the manure magic?”
“No.”
“The parrot?”
“Please just shut up!

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