tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-133433882024-03-24T10:47:38.988-07:00The Faithful Geek<p>An exploration of parenthood, corporate life,</p>
and the intersection between faith and pop culture.nichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12406031304387961610noreply@blogger.comBlogger1451125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13343388.post-67078543123694981922024-03-18T19:32:00.000-07:002024-03-18T19:32:03.108-07:00Home, Away, and the Weirdness of BeingDuring our last trip to Hawaii, my wife and I went on a late night walk along Waikiki beach. We stopped to dance when passing by a bar with a musician playing music on an out door stage, watched some fire dancers practice free from the massive daytime crowds, and lingered along the shore while the sound of waves filled the silence around us. Backlit by the vibrance of skyscrapers and hotels with the expanse of starry skies and endless ocean before us, we soaked up all we could get. There was a life giving energy to the moment, a breath to revive our weary souls.
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With my arms wrapped around Annie’s shoulders she told me how the time we spent there felt more real to her than anything else. We conversed about how important these trips were to both of us to connect with each other. It was a reminder of why we work so hard and love the way we live. We both have wandering spirits, a wanderlust hardwired into our being. It’s more than existing as soulmates, it’s as if we were created to see the world together.
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We know there is life after kids, a life approaching faster that we could ever prepare. When we travel, whether it is a weeklong journey or a quick weekend excursion, we get glimpses of the way life could be, or the way it was meant to be. It’s a preview of a future when we no longer have the worry of homework, softball schedules, school dances, and convincing kids the importance of personal hygiene and household chores. Our bucket list is perpetually growing and it is our hearts desire to continually find each other through chasing destinations.
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Thing is, we are not wealthy people. At least, not financially speaking. We eat cheap. We don’t maintain expensive smoking and drinking habits. We pursue affordable entertainment options. If free is an option, it’s our preferred choice. When we leave town, we stay in low cost hotels. We get the the cheap interior rooms on cruise boats. We look for bargain flights. We pack snacks for road trips. Mock us for our thriftiness but our budget consciousness enables our ability to pursue our dreams.
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We also know we are blessed. We understand our traveling hobbies are not options available to everyone. We are aware we live, work, and travel to places impacted by addiction and poverty. Annie is better at it than I am, yet we both endeavor to use our privilege to benefit others. Life is fragile and there is no knowledge more present than the fact nothing is promised. We enjoy these opportunities while we can as frequently as possible because we might not be able to do this forever.
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We escaped home again this last weekend for a family road trip to Boise. Saturday was one of the best days I’ve had I a long time. We visited a zoo and a historical site. We stayed in a cheap hotel. I introduced them to my favorite Mexican restaurant. My eleven year old daughter begged me to take her to more museums. We learned new things, bonded over fresh experiences, found joy together, bought souvenirs, took goofy photos, and refreshed our weary souls.
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifd8PnefWYcKJZelhoza2QBy6W6vVgVWdE5Itu-HUWEMc6t5PtGnkx-IMV2TvEjyoc4C3hus5Rt0zputfJAq9XNYc9_6dmxzuyLDVR3dI6-qJvBfuwTszmoDlCOSM7OyO-k1tkENRVy99aXLQVwhYP5lm6dvPTLNhCJRIL0ENhv03shNV0WZA_/s2048/us.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifd8PnefWYcKJZelhoza2QBy6W6vVgVWdE5Itu-HUWEMc6t5PtGnkx-IMV2TvEjyoc4C3hus5Rt0zputfJAq9XNYc9_6dmxzuyLDVR3dI6-qJvBfuwTszmoDlCOSM7OyO-k1tkENRVy99aXLQVwhYP5lm6dvPTLNhCJRIL0ENhv03shNV0WZA_/s400/us.jpg" /></a></div><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><div style="text-align: center;">photo courtesy of Andria Casey</div></span><br />
Now we are home again. We have resumed the regular routines of day jobs and school. My body is worn but my heart is full. Walking around downtown Spokane this morning, I had a revelation similar to the sentiments my wife expressed in Honolulu roughly this time last year.
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Our time away seems more real than our time at home. Walking around downtown Spokane this morning, I sensed this oddness deep in my bones. Real life feels weird. Road trips to Seattle, Portland, Boise, and Cheyenne; flying away to Florida and Hawaii; cruises to Alaska and the Bahamas - these trips tire is out but fill our hearts. When we go we are closer to who we are to who we are than the daily grind of earning paychecks of conversing with colleagues. Our family’s heartbeat is found in miles traversed. Granted, we must return. The income of day jobs and weekend gigs fund our dream life away from home. Still, every time we go somewhere it becomes harder to readjust to normal life.
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Then again, I’ve been weird my whole life. It’s time to embrace the weird until we can go away again. And again. And again.
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzaVBemTTYq2ZbT_9r4rD2eU1hOt6WQyMQkd2OY_KqL0GeG8foRrubudUqiK5H59k4x0Z18H70vFuHvdCWBQb_V81VESX2vW-WzIQxNpgxoz9GF3eSJdcjXyd9XbbO0oZswRW9tUEoBEBShQLc3vKmHzB_ZjMo7SrZfCeQHwZg814T0_Nzlxku/s1168/Runaway.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="1089" data-original-width="1168" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzaVBemTTYq2ZbT_9r4rD2eU1hOt6WQyMQkd2OY_KqL0GeG8foRrubudUqiK5H59k4x0Z18H70vFuHvdCWBQb_V81VESX2vW-WzIQxNpgxoz9GF3eSJdcjXyd9XbbO0oZswRW9tUEoBEBShQLc3vKmHzB_ZjMo7SrZfCeQHwZg814T0_Nzlxku/s400/Runaway.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>nichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12406031304387961610noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13343388.post-2743779338244694352024-03-15T06:33:00.000-07:002024-03-15T06:33:48.179-07:00The Disconnect and Ties that Bind Part TwoMy maternal grandfather was genealogist. He started while he was still a teacher but his hobby became his passion after retirement. Not only did he track his own heritage as far back as he could go, he also studied the family trees of his kids’ spouses. He was fascinated by the family lineages of everyone he met. Thanks to his efforts, and the stories told by my paternal grandmother, I know as much about my family as possible.
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I know my roots. I feel it in the lyrics of My Culture when Maxi Jazz raps, “Like a lifeline, I light lines ‘cause my compassion is deep for the people who fashioned me, my soul to keep and this is who I happen to be. If I don't see that I'm strong, then I won't be. This is what my Daddy told me, I wished he would hold me a little more than he did. But he taught me my culture and how to live positive. I never want to shame the blood in my veins and bring pain to my sweet grandfather's face in his resting place. I made haste to learn and not waste everything my forefathers earned in tears for my culture.”
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From a passenger on the Mayflower, to Norwegian immigrants joining early settlers in Minnesota. The German, Irish, and Scottish ancestors. My distant Samoan cousins. Forefathers (and foremothers) who were farmers and pastors, advocates and survivors. Their stories twist my DNA and flow through my blood.
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I know who I am. And yet, I don’t.
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Comprehension of names, birthdays, occupations don’t tell a complete story. There is a limited amount to be learned from marriage licenses, immigration papers, and death certificates. I strive to leave a legacy worthy of my family but they are not my tribe. When my parents got married in the early 70s, they began a westward migration. I grew up completely disconnected from my heritage. Between my dad being a workaholic and our family living below the poverty line I barely knew my aunts, uncles, and cousins. I rarely saw my grandparents. My familial tribe had communities in Cheyenne and Oklahoma while I was the left coast stranger in the Emerald City suburbs.
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_laQY-kKXyiDHVKnxqg-6wWXnFhLxJpidHF9Y_94AdoMW-Ryn0artEM04_GAD5NmOT9Fo0mdgxrws8sSygr_LZAow31ATb4SsQ_pV68A0ech6USj5fbIA5gDc-19aT4PZa3nQrb2IaRbNRdXZX7KCqxpAXjnqOcWDRqRJD5yA116lgnqiR4ed/s650/downtown-marysville-marysville-wa.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="433" data-original-width="650" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_laQY-kKXyiDHVKnxqg-6wWXnFhLxJpidHF9Y_94AdoMW-Ryn0artEM04_GAD5NmOT9Fo0mdgxrws8sSygr_LZAow31ATb4SsQ_pV68A0ech6USj5fbIA5gDc-19aT4PZa3nQrb2IaRbNRdXZX7KCqxpAXjnqOcWDRqRJD5yA116lgnqiR4ed/s400/downtown-marysville-marysville-wa.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><div style="text-align: center;">image courtesy of the City of Marysville</div></span><br />
My being is more defined by coming of age as a Seattleite during the grunge era than by my heritage. There’s a playlist in Spotify serving as the soundtrack to my life which will tell you more about who I am than you could learn from anyone sharing my surname or my mom’s maiden name. Separated from those clans, I had to find my own tribes.
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I’ve been pretty open about the state of my childhood. It was not an enjoyable experience. I am still struggling with the trauma of being a bullied kid, of poverty, of undiagnosed mental illness, of religious fundamentalism. Finding my tribe was not an easy task.
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On a five hour road trip with my dad last summer, he admitted his greatest fear while I was a kid was that he’d lose me. Which brings me back to the 1 Giant Leap song. In the second verse, Robbie Williams sang, “Hello Dad, remember me? I'm the man you thought I'd never be.” Then continued, “I'm the one who you told look don't touch. I'm the kid who wouldn't amount too much.” My parents didn’t think I’d ever be much of anything because they didn’t know if I’d survive long enough.
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My father is a smart man. He could see my symptoms of depression before I recognized them myself. He knew the degree of which I was bullied and abused by my peers and didn’t know how to help. He watched as I slowly faded into the background and was terrified I’d become a suicide statistic.
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I was raised in the boys will be boys era. When the kids who got their asses kicked were given the same punishment as the kid who dealt the ass kicking. When autism and neurodivergence were woefully misunderstood and under-diagnosed. When kids with learning disabilities were treated like bad students. When kids were better seen and not heard. When terms like nerd and geek were still vindictive insults. And I suffered all of it. If you ask my wife, I bear the scars and some of the wounds have yet to heal.
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The saddest aspect of my lonely story is how the one place that should have been safe for me, the place that should have been most welcoming was just like everywhere else. My church should have loved me the way I was, the way God created me, but they could be just as hostile and ostracizing as the kids at school. Nowhere was safe.
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So I found my tribe with the freaks and geeks, the outcasts and underdogs, the athletically un-gifted, the last ones picked, the tortured geniuses, artists and music makers, agents of chaos, the misunderstood wanderers, and anyone who never fit in or felt like they belonged.
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A funny thing about life stories: they don’t always follow the hero’s journey. Life isn’t a three act play hitting all of the beats of plot and structure. There are unexpected turns warping our expectations. As the adage says: truth is stranger than fiction.
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The church youth group of my youth wasn’t the happy home it should have been, but it was still home. No matter how desperately I tried, it was clear I was never going to be a part of the in crowd. However I was still in the crowd. Years, distance, and education have provided me a new perspective on this weird little tribe of teens inside our religious subculture. I am much more forgiving these days and a lot less desperate to fit in.
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Because humans are tribal by nature, we always look to the best and strongest and bravest to lead and protect. In our strange tribe, that bigger stronger leader was never going to be me. It was a sociological impossibility. I was short, uncoordinated, poor, not conventionally attractive, and socially awkward. I was a weird little dork. Through time and space I’ve also come to realize the teasing they foisted on me wasn’t all mean spirited. Obviously some of it was, but some of it was good natured too.
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I no longer blame them for their cruelty. It’s hard being a teenager. While I wasn’t like them, according to science we were identical. We were undergoing physical and neurological changes, our brain chemistry and hormone levels were constantly in flux, the rules transitioned from how we were treated as children to the way we would be treated as adults, culture around us was shifting throughout the 90s. We were all trying to find our place while figuring out who we were and how we related to each other all at the same time. It would be unrealistic to expect any of us to navigate such a confusing era with grace and perfect kindness.
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Looking at that time of my life in the rear view mirror, once again I feel disconnected. Because I left. I got out. I moved away. All of those kids who were once my church family are practically strangers. They’re now pastors, teachers, missionaries, community leaders, realtors, mechanics, engineers, and doing their own things with their own families.
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I don’t miss being the weird kid. I don’t miss the way my peers treated me like I was a second class citizen. I don’t miss being overlooked and maltreated. But I miss them. I miss the community we had. Despite the pain they caused me, I love these people dearly. In the midst of what was a tumultuous time of my life, my happiest memories all involve my youth group tribe. I will forever be bound to them through the shared experiences of our formative years.
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Every now and then, I wonder if it would be feasible to get the old gang back together again. For us to collect in one place one last time. Jimmy and Sue. Kari and Dan. Shane. The twins. Megan. Nikolai. Pike. Nettles. Jennifer. Travis. Erin. Marcus. The younger siblings (Chris, Nathan, Adam, and Chad). Perhaps we could gather together a Dennys, order coffee and fries, chat for hours, then leave our tip among the avant-garde displays made from salt, pepper, ketchup, and coffee creamer. Like we used to do.
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Sure, such a reunion is logistically impossible. But it could be fun. I am curious what it would be like to see them all again. If for no other reason, I’d want to do it for my culture.nichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12406031304387961610noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13343388.post-1515273181755617302024-03-14T09:19:00.000-07:002024-03-14T09:19:18.673-07:00The Disconnect and Ties that Bind Part OneIn the earliest records of human history, people formed in tribalistic cultures. Families, tribes, sects, and clans. Every ancient society on every continent has documented their beginnings in small groups warring over limited resources of food, water, clothing, and shelter. Whether nomadic or settled, humans coalesced into factions based on shared values and lineage.
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For thousands of years, humanity flourished in tribalism. This gave us the epic tales of folklore. In them we find the gods and legends of Egypt and Greece; tales of heroes and dragons; adventures, explorers, Vikings, and warriors. The earth experienced plagues and cataclysms, but its inhabitants endured because their tribes were united with common purpose.
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Neighboring populations didn’t always get along so the survival of our clans depended on the biggest, the bravest, and the strongest among us to lead, guide, and protect us from those who wish to do us harm. We looked to the smartest and most beautiful to continue our bloodlines. We created popularity contests out of necessity because their success meant we could live and hopefully thrive.
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From the indigenous populations of Australia and America, to the biblical Israelites, to the Chinese dynasties, to the feudalism of Western Europe, we found our identities, our health, and safety in the numbers and proximity of our people. Over time, these sects grew. They became villages and hamlets, then cities and nations. Divisions and culture formed around heritage, religion, geography, language, mythology, tragedies, kings, and lords.
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Then something funny happened. The Industrial Revolution made life easier. Citizens of industrialized countries migrated from agrarian lifestyles to urban developments. As culture modernized, we lost the need for strength and courage to survive. We no longer needed the muscles and calluses of manual labor to tend to our own crops. The talent and focus needed to stitch fabrics together became a hobby instead of a mandatory skill. We could get the food and clothing we needed from markets and mercantiles.
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Who needs to build their own hoses when specialized laborers could do it for you? Who needs giants to protect us when the government has armies? Who needs a bodyguard when you can buy your own weapons? Why protect your outskirts with roving bands armed with spears and swords when walls and secure border crossings will work more efficiently?
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The neighboring towns were no longer rival clans, they were fellow countrymen. Our enemies were further away. The ever-present dangers and perils of pre-industrialization was a thing of the past. We were new people with modern needs and worries.
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However, our tribalism was still hardwired into the human brain. Our communities might not need to bond they way we once did to survive, yet the human spirit still craves the bonds of community. Without the impetus for a tribe that lives together and fights together, we created new tribes with different purposes. The popularity contests continued in different domains.
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Middle school cliques, political parties, college alumni, fraternal organizations, religious denominations, athletic franchises, MMORGPs, artist co-ops, book clubs, chosen families, and countless other ways we can find a way to say “these are my people, this is my tribe.” Our clans are bigger than they used to be. We can find kinship with strangers thousands of miles away. We can bond with individuals we may never meet in ways completed foreign to our ancestors.
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_oTLg7tpE5PfqZjqj5ipZf0vcwEXAayU_eOzB_jlMZme47xryN98LpauqJ1FW6VFKyD7JbsQ1MPuhCliJz8_IiOApMD8rwINrd8IksMJxmLEZ5iDEjbUsFEwU2rxYqAcRO0294kMoWjDniUBeO-rWY6RaF5RjJo6E_ESY2VPjpNP2lOF4-vLs/s6063/carnival.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="6063" data-original-width="4042" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_oTLg7tpE5PfqZjqj5ipZf0vcwEXAayU_eOzB_jlMZme47xryN98LpauqJ1FW6VFKyD7JbsQ1MPuhCliJz8_IiOApMD8rwINrd8IksMJxmLEZ5iDEjbUsFEwU2rxYqAcRO0294kMoWjDniUBeO-rWY6RaF5RjJo6E_ESY2VPjpNP2lOF4-vLs/s400/carnival.jpg" /></a></div><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><div style="text-align: center;">Image courtesy of <a href="https://unsplash.com/@lukaszischke" target="_blank">Lukas Zischke</a></div></span><br />
Even though we no longer need the smartest and strongest to lead us, we still seek them out - even if we don’t know them personally. We find our leaders in hero worship, celebrity gossip, reality TV, social media influencers, and ballot boxes.
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Modern civilization is completely disconnected from how we functioned for millennia. At the same time, we are bound to the ways historical cultures shaped our brains. Try as hard as we might to escape our past, the past is never truly dead.
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Because my brain thinks through a filter of movie quotes and song lyrics, it is music which helped me comprehend our anthropology. My Culture by 1 Giant Leap featuring Maxi Jazz and Robbie Williams specifically speaks of this connection between our heritage, our biology, and the functions of modernity.
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“I am the sum total of my ancestors, I carry their DNA. We are representatives of a long line of people and we cart them around everywhere: this long line of people that goes back to the beginning of time. And when we meet - they meet other lines of people. And we say: bring together the lines of me.”
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I will remember.</span>nichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12406031304387961610noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13343388.post-75678818038627868912024-03-10T06:35:00.000-07:002024-03-10T06:35:00.186-07:00Fantastic Four: A ProposalWith a cast announced less than a month ago and roughly 16 months to film, edit, reshoot, score, and add special effects, Marvel has a lot to do in a short timeframe. Fantastic Four are some of the most popular and recognizable characters from Marvel Comics. Expectations are high especially since fans have been disappointed in previous cinematic attempts ranging anywhere from lackluster to what one critic described as “woefully misguided.”
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The upcoming F4 movie has to accomplish the following:
<br />1. Be consistent, coherent, funny, and better than anything Fox put into theaters.
<br />2. Create the effects of elasticity, invisibility, flaming flight, and rock hard invulnerability without looking like obvious CGI.
<br />3. Avoid over reliance on CGI (one of the biggest criticisms against recent MCU entries).
<br />4. Not break the sacred timeline. The MCU has had some minor continuity errors lately.
<br />5. Bring this team from the 1960s to the present.
<br />6. Explain how Fantastic Four existed in the MCU timeline as heroes in the 1960s but no one remembers them in the current era.
<br />7. Connect to both the past and the future of the MCU.
<br />8. Avoid the origin story. We got it in two other movies already. Fans are sick of origin stories.
<br />9. Make every one love H.E.R.B.I.E.
<br />10. For fan service - give Pedro Pascal a special kid to protect.
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUsJQVlHRgz6LBikNngvH9TmlTmk-kbDs4ajh5rYLrq_3Myv0rcoDYsX4HDuPoQVrKn3Qy1_fcKzv4mbM1ZX9xH70hKrjMDRp6dlztwB7jIr-z7K4Vy2esjrzNbPixBnTUnwFtQg1pQo4B-QNlHDIHQyxokVVnVR7jQP04jUBr-ri3BLEaKUaS/s2550/F4.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="1650" data-original-width="2550" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUsJQVlHRgz6LBikNngvH9TmlTmk-kbDs4ajh5rYLrq_3Myv0rcoDYsX4HDuPoQVrKn3Qy1_fcKzv4mbM1ZX9xH70hKrjMDRp6dlztwB7jIr-z7K4Vy2esjrzNbPixBnTUnwFtQg1pQo4B-QNlHDIHQyxokVVnVR7jQP04jUBr-ri3BLEaKUaS/s400/F4.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><div style="text-align: center;">Image courtesy Marvel Studios</div></span><br />
What if I told you I had an idea to satisfy all of these demands? (Yes, I realize the scrip is already written and since I’m not psychic, I’m aware the actual movie will be different than my proposal. A boy can dream right?)
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Side note: my idea sets the movie several years after the team had been blasted with cosmic rays on the first American mission to space, giving them their powers. By the early 60’s when the movie begins, Fantastic Four are already world famous and active superheroes.
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Cold open in the middle of Fantastic Four doing heroics - perhaps fighting a retro villain or something cosmic which would lean into Ben Grimm’s career as an astronaut. After the title card, we see the heroes in Washington DC receiving commendations from President Lyndon B. Johnson. Franklin and Valeria watch their family from the side of the stage under H.E.R.B.I.E.’s supervision. At the dinner gala following the award ceremony, Hank Pym (Michael Douglas) approaches Reed to congratulate him and they discuss the creation and use of pym particles.
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0UbsqwBA-TyguXGl6ygZdMv7oh9Lzxi1EMKWnMCMxILqkji8NJt281KYxSGDQWQurvwEKIwBV6wfucmRj841zbwUvby-bGRgFXslM1FmFiDlGY2It2hyF8hyphenhyphenhu6MBxub4nw0kPaofZIgMx_Bqh0z9tFCQ5vyFaK-HxHz1lSlb6ivCGUE9TJpZ/s1280/F4%20Hank%20Pym.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0UbsqwBA-TyguXGl6ygZdMv7oh9Lzxi1EMKWnMCMxILqkji8NJt281KYxSGDQWQurvwEKIwBV6wfucmRj841zbwUvby-bGRgFXslM1FmFiDlGY2It2hyF8hyphenhyphenhu6MBxub4nw0kPaofZIgMx_Bqh0z9tFCQ5vyFaK-HxHz1lSlb6ivCGUE9TJpZ/s400/F4%20Hank%20Pym.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><div style="text-align: center;">Image courtesy Marvel Studios</div></span><br />
Back at the Baxter Building, Sue puts Franklin and Valeria to bed. Because they’re young, they still share a bedroom. After lights out, the two kids start discussing pym particles with excitement. Due to Valeria’s superior intellect, she deduces the element could be used for time travel. They spend the next few days constructing their own time machine with spare parts from their father’s laboratory. There’s only one problem: Hank Pym possesses all of the pym particles and doesn’t like to share. This forces the children to invent their own version of the element.
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Once the machine and particles are complete, they test it out. Valeria steps inside and activates it. She’s transported to what she thinks is the future but is actually an alternate universe. There she sees Sue eating dinner inside their Baxter Building apartment with someone other than Reed. Sue calls this man Victor. Valeria tries to interrupt but is scolded and Victor tells her she’s supposed to be working on her homework. Sue gets up and escorts Valeria back to her bedroom where school books and assignments are littered on her desk. Valeria finds a pair of Doom gauntlets, a cape, and armor on the bed. She puts on the gauntlets and is surprised to find they’re a perfect fit. Valeria sits down at the desk and sees her name written on one of her school papers as Valeria Von Doom. She panics and suddenly gets transported back to her reality where Johnny and Sue are frustrated with Franklin as he tries to explain where Valeria disappeared.
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Valeria, still wearing the gauntlets, announces her presence. Reed and Ben return as they had been searching the building to find Valeria. Demanding an explanation, the adults listen to the child’s testimony of events. When she mentions Victor and describes him, Reed gets angry. Von Doom was a childhood friend of Reed’s who immigrated to the US after World War II and was a member of the space mission that gave the Fantastic Four powers. Sue and Reed begin arguing with accusations of affairs. Reed wants to know why she’d choose Von Doom, Johnny tries to defend her sister, and Franklin pleads with them to stop. To end the fight, Franklin accidentally uses his latent psionic powers pushing Johnny, Sue, and Valeria into the time machine and sends them 60 years into the future.
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The force of the psionic blast damages the machine. Ben panics and tries to deactivate it but the controls are not designed for his big hands and he breaks it more. As the machine grows unstable Franklin and Reed scramble to depower it and avert disaster. Unfortunately, they can’t prevent the time machine from exploding, all they can do is contain the blast to minimize damage. At the last possible moment, Thing positions himself to take the brunt of impact so the shockwave doesn’t destroy Manhattan. Reed grabs Franklin, running for the balcony, and leaps into the abyss. Mr Fantastic stretches his body to form a parachute and wraps his hands and feet into a harness around Franklin so the two can float to safety together.
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Behind them, the Baxter Building shakes and a ball of flames blow out the windows of the upper floors. The building implodes and crumbles, damaging neighboring buildings as it collapses with Thing and H.E.R.B.I.E. inside. Thankfully, Ben Grimm is nearly indestructible and is able to crawl his way out of the rubble.
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They are devastated. Reed’s wife and daughter are gone, Ben lost his friend Johnny, and Franklin is filled with guilt. They want to find the other half of their family and bring them home but don’t know where to look or how to recreate the machine Valeria helped build. Hank Pym, Janet Van Dyne (Michelle Pfeiffer), and Dr. Bill Foster (Laurence Fishburne) show up to help those affected by the Baxter disaster. Reed begs Hank to help build a new time machine to help them rescue Johnny, Sue, and Valeria. Hank refuses because it’s too dangerous, doesn’t believe pym particles could be used for time travel, and wouldn’t know where to find the missing people even if time travel was possible.
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Meanwhile, Sue and Johnny struggle to make sense of the changes to Manhattan and new technologies. No one recognizes them or remembers them. Due to superior intellect, Valeria adapts quickly. Their sudden appearance also causes a disruption, sensed by Wong (Benedict Wong) who takes Sam Wilson (Anthony Mackie) with him to intercept the heroes from the past. Johnny and Sue demonstrate their powers, believing Wong and Wilson are members of hydra. In the brief fight, Wong subdues them with magic.
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzZi_DfvlAeRGH1F-_Ejc0CToHY7uxAOuJSqgdIufYdP9vb67601gXDD1e7dny_F9ctINY7PompJTtc9PWIYpayoJrEGEqmBO_ESbjmse3SXJzAYC3pkmfrzqTDOaa60KldZmnci0pR3zql4F55w573y8HsRXHETv20FKe6Komcwv67FV-7mdd/s1599/F4%20Sam%20Wilson.webp" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1599" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzZi_DfvlAeRGH1F-_Ejc0CToHY7uxAOuJSqgdIufYdP9vb67601gXDD1e7dny_F9ctINY7PompJTtc9PWIYpayoJrEGEqmBO_ESbjmse3SXJzAYC3pkmfrzqTDOaa60KldZmnci0pR3zql4F55w573y8HsRXHETv20FKe6Komcwv67FV-7mdd/s400/F4%20Sam%20Wilson.webp" width="400" /></a></div><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><div style="text-align: center;">Image courtesy Marvel Studios</div></span><br />
Sue, Johnny, and Valeria are brought to a holding cell at the new Avengers headquarters and Wong sling rings his way out leaving Sam to interrogate the newcomers. During the interrogation, a news story provides an update on Victor Von Doom founding the Kingdom of Latveria after rebuilding the ruins of his homeland, Sokovia. Sue is stunned but Valeria doesn’t recognize him because Dr Doom is wearing a mask. Wilson offers them transport to Latveria on the condition they stay there.
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Back in 1964, Reed reaches out to the only person he can think to help: the Sorcerer Supreme. At the Sanctum Sanctorum, they find the Ancient One (Tilda Swinton) repair the mansion because it had minor damages from the collapse of the Baxter Building. Reed explains their predicament to the Ancient One. She meditates for a while, and though her meditation she learns where the others had gone.
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7leRCouLeYcLTkVqeH1ES3u4EEnItaj7ksMKAgVTMKZhWKVD1j3xWla-LdU-2UrGl39xLIuI5ZKUdlR9ZVTXSvhdL-REsLuE_qR4RruFP-Txekr4WVXCsZizkLjitMm67gNmzXDM9YV_AnougQWbywnoJiIS2aECLmmIK5550tNwz4ne-nwRH/s700/F4%20Ancient%20One.webp" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="434" data-original-width="700" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7leRCouLeYcLTkVqeH1ES3u4EEnItaj7ksMKAgVTMKZhWKVD1j3xWla-LdU-2UrGl39xLIuI5ZKUdlR9ZVTXSvhdL-REsLuE_qR4RruFP-Txekr4WVXCsZizkLjitMm67gNmzXDM9YV_AnougQWbywnoJiIS2aECLmmIK5550tNwz4ne-nwRH/s400/F4%20Ancient%20One.webp" width="400" /></a></div><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><div style="text-align: center;">Image courtesy Marvel Studios</div></span><br />
Ancient One agrees to help but with sacrificial consequences. First, she can send them into the future timeline but it is a one way trip, they will not be able to return home. If they agree, the future will become their home. The second condition is an agreement for the Ancient One to undo the damages they caused to Manhattan, but in doing so she will erase the knowledge of their existence from everyone’s memory. No one will remember the Fantastic Four, no one will know they are heroes, no one will remember their missions to space leaving NASA’s space program to start over without them. Their timeline will move on as if they never existed. When they arrive in the future, they will have to begin a completely new life from nothing.
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Reed, Ben, and Franklin all agree. Ancient One works her magic, the collapse of the Baxter Building is undone in reverse, damages to Manhattan are repaired, the photo of Ben Grimm disappears from the halls of NASA, a newspaper clipping showing Hank shaking hands with Reed changes to show Hank shaking hands with Howard Stark (John Slattery), and the remaining heroes vanish from 1964.
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In modern times, Reed, Ben, and Franklin appear in Sanctum Sanctorum the same place they just left. However, they’re now standing behind Wong who is binge watching Game of Thrones with Madisynn (Patty Guggenheim). Wong jumps up ready to fight but is disarmed when Reed asks “Where is the Ancient One?” The story of why and how they arrived in Sanctum Sanctorum is relayed and Wong agrees to help.
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhewPnvY3uhSJT3mw5OQC44yUMNDYZB3_BbKLJtMrUzM8UOBEdEkTGWrtob-JJDR3117_s6-d49kNxL0M-xJwDxI53HBsybdTb5fzqZe_fiGFjeQs4lw9LMca_nm27a7hwm9G_oJvN8m1BZ6BvL7fjB1sgaux2u8rqUAAUSlJdxiMA-JngRJWKL/s1248/F4%20Madisynn%20and%20Wong.webp" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="702" data-original-width="1248" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhewPnvY3uhSJT3mw5OQC44yUMNDYZB3_BbKLJtMrUzM8UOBEdEkTGWrtob-JJDR3117_s6-d49kNxL0M-xJwDxI53HBsybdTb5fzqZe_fiGFjeQs4lw9LMca_nm27a7hwm9G_oJvN8m1BZ6BvL7fjB1sgaux2u8rqUAAUSlJdxiMA-JngRJWKL/s400/F4%20Madisynn%20and%20Wong.webp" width="400" /></a></div><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><div style="text-align: center;">Image courtesy Marvel Studios</div></span><br />
In Latveria, Dr Doom is suspicious of Sue and Johnny, imprisoning them. Inside captivity, their powers are inert. This frustrates Johnny who keeps throwing himself into the walls trying to ignite himself. However, curious how Valeria got a hold of gauntlets he designed, Von Doom treats the girl like a princess.
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Wong learns from Sam where Reed’s family was taken. Wong’s students learn Johnny and Sue are being held captive. Madison researches social media and finds pictures of Victor with Valeria, and she is dressed in royal Latverian clothing to match Doom’s costume. Reed and Ben demand to mount a rescue mission. Sam declined to assist them as his participation would be a violation of UN treaties protecting Latveria’s sovereignty.
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To complete the rescue, Wong sends a few of his students to accompany Reed and Ben to storm Doom’s castle. Wong remains behind to manage the New York sanctum and baby sit Franklin.
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In Latveria, the heroes are confronted with dozens of doombots. As Thing smashes the robots and Mr Fantastic uses his rubbery arms to launch the bots every direction, the students use their magic to break the doombots apart. Unfortunately, for every robot destroyed, more appear.
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Inside the castle, Dr Doom is eating a meal with Valeria. His mask is off, revealing scars and disfiguration. Seeing the commotion on his security feed, he excuses himself and dons the mask. He joins the melee and orders his doombots to stop fighting. Doom asks the heroes for their reason to enter Latveria. Franklin explains he came to retrieve his family. Feigning cordiality, Doom invites them inside the castle. Once inside, Reed and Ben lose their powers, reverting Thing back to his original human appearance. Without warning, the doombots swarm and overpower the de-powered heroes and escort them to detainment cells. While being dragged away, Reed asks Victor “What happened to you?”
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The question confounds Doom. Due to the spell Ancient One used to undo the damages to Manhattan in the 60s, Victor doesn’t remember any of the Fantastic Four. In the 60s, Franklin has a vision of Valeria filled with rage and smashing electric components. He tells Wong how Valeria might be in danger. Wong responds with a grunt, “hmm” and tells the boy to go watch cartoons.
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Back in the dining hall, Valeria is watching everything on the security feed Doom left on. Seeing her father mistreated angers her. She gets her gauntlets and uses telepathy to deduce the location of the castle’s security controls. Once there, she uses the gauntlets to smash everything which deactivates the castle’s defenses, including the technology Doom uses to repress magic and superpower abilities. In an instant, Johnny is ablaze and Thing turns into stone. They bust out of their cells. Wong’s students regain their magic and escape.
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A new battle resumes between the heroes and doombots. This time, with two additional fighters, progress seems easier. Because the security system is damaged, the bots are easier to fight and Von Doom lost his ability to control them. They quickly subdue Victor Von Doom but are stopped from hurting him by Valeria. She explains he is this nation’s king and the people of Latveria depend on him. Their status as an independent nation is recognized by the United Nations and protected by the European Union. Franklin advises Doom to rule his people and remain in his country. Should Doom ever cause harm outside of his borders, the Fantastic Four would be there to stop him.
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The students use the sling rings to open portals allowing the team to return to the Sanctum Sanctorum. Before she leaves, Valeria removes the cape and armor Victor gifted her. She turns to exit but pauses again, drops the gauntlets then steps through the portal.
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Back in New York, Sue and Reed find Franklin watching The Simpsons with Madisynn. With the team reunited, Reed says it’s time to find a new home. Franklin says he has a few ideas. Begin credits.
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In a mid credit scene, in the basement of the old Baxter Building, a tarp covers a strange form. Small lights turn on, illuminating the tarp from the inside. The form inside wiggles and wrestles itself free revealing H.E.R.B.I.E. reactivated for the first time in 60 years.
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In a post credit scene, Sue and Reed are on a date at a fancy restaurant. Doctor Strange (Benedict Cumberbatch) approaches, who they think is their waiter. Strange uses magic to make their drink order appear. He introduces himself and invites Reed to join the Illuminati.
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZaRRererJ5uQFxbGhc5vNsmexvZNXNk16ATt0UNb9k6gQnAE3C33XVG_NooYAHUrf_z0QUgfhk7SY-5qPx3FRJS4M6eWhcIo1_C7EuK2m0vMYE2eWAlzn4vhMNTKSVci_L8SxW-J_hBWhkDuHs-uCI7mDNIwZlkif_o82QjqullVt1fdPaA3C/s720/F4%20Dr%20Strange.png" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="711" data-original-width="720" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZaRRererJ5uQFxbGhc5vNsmexvZNXNk16ATt0UNb9k6gQnAE3C33XVG_NooYAHUrf_z0QUgfhk7SY-5qPx3FRJS4M6eWhcIo1_C7EuK2m0vMYE2eWAlzn4vhMNTKSVci_L8SxW-J_hBWhkDuHs-uCI7mDNIwZlkif_o82QjqullVt1fdPaA3C/s400/F4%20Dr%20Strange.png" width="400" /></a></div><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><div style="text-align: center;">Image courtesy Marvel Studios</div></span><br />
Just think what my version of the film accomplishes. It introduces the Fantastic Four, brings them from the 60s into the present without disturbing the sacred timeline, explains why no one in modern times remembers them, sets up Dr Doom as a future big baddie, connects the Fantastic Four to other MCU characters, and maintains the Pedro protects a kid trope. It’s perfect.
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Of course, Disney has their own plans. The script has been written and production should begin soon. We’ll see what Marvel Studios creates when the movie releases next year.nichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12406031304387961610noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13343388.post-64655269803709680782024-03-09T09:56:00.000-08:002024-03-09T09:56:00.244-08:00Fantastic Four: A RefresherThe leader of the team can stretch absurd lengths and flex his body into any shape. His wife can turn herself invisible at will and project force fields around herself any anyone next to her. The youngest can ignite his body in a ball of flames and fly while he’s on fire. The last member is the only one who can’t pass for normal, his body built of orange rocks making him super strong and nearly indestructible. Aside from their powers, who are the Fantastic Four?
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Reed Richards is known as the smartest man in the Marvel universe. He is slightly arrogant but in a way he doesn’t realize he’s arrogant because he literally is so much more intelligent than everyone else. He’s a workaholic and can often be emotionally distant.
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfC9tlpaQm1wZaRwjK1wOBr5iWixwVxQFRbPV8pu8qjvk2xsI6KtIuweFeH8vIFXfWrQB9JM8ka8IAJiGmI4lmzi__6k_AqyLhz0ZegnXYWJwkJG2SNB0SYJTe-W5e9KWk8LRKRaGqI-IbYzo8GLA_EzMIpzkdgh8VHG1YZHee8vXX6gUvk1Lx/s1200/F4%20Mr%20Fantastic.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfC9tlpaQm1wZaRwjK1wOBr5iWixwVxQFRbPV8pu8qjvk2xsI6KtIuweFeH8vIFXfWrQB9JM8ka8IAJiGmI4lmzi__6k_AqyLhz0ZegnXYWJwkJG2SNB0SYJTe-W5e9KWk8LRKRaGqI-IbYzo8GLA_EzMIpzkdgh8VHG1YZHee8vXX6gUvk1Lx/s400/F4%20Mr%20Fantastic.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><div style="text-align: center;">Image courtesy of Marvel Comics</div></span><br />
Johnny Storm has a massive ego and is eager to flaunt his powers. He’s charismatic, braggadocios, an adrenaline junky, and enjoys attention. Despite his hot temper, he wants everyone to like him and is willing to team up with almost anyone.
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidNOtQWieZ1NLouRvw83isff9VVzWayFiGhoTmspCVqi8takcPRLmccPWtpC0c1jeshCCSAXPl0DNV-1S8E6mr4sgYM-hikDCZGsGe5usmxeYJRgQ8SRIiNmmumU_z9sEj84WRIflj4ftkwVRZxe6WbC1M9ShIm5dvr83JD20HeUah_04wpZ17/s600/F4%20Johnny%20Storm.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="426" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidNOtQWieZ1NLouRvw83isff9VVzWayFiGhoTmspCVqi8takcPRLmccPWtpC0c1jeshCCSAXPl0DNV-1S8E6mr4sgYM-hikDCZGsGe5usmxeYJRgQ8SRIiNmmumU_z9sEj84WRIflj4ftkwVRZxe6WbC1M9ShIm5dvr83JD20HeUah_04wpZ17/s400/F4%20Johnny%20Storm.jpg" /></a></div><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><div style="text-align: center;">Image courtesy of Marvel Comics</div></span><br />
Ben Grimm has a soft heart under his rough exterior. He used his football scholarship to escape his impoverished and violent childhood. Not the smartest dude around but he makes up for it with a jovial personality and uses humor to hide his emotional turmoil.
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikfxOl6m28_lVqu_FpHr-WAx_jCA7FamV_LYYIMhF9Z3g4eXQO_Ed7Hk9nLfSeLmYIrAlfKDfQ8TcITPW5HdIVWyd5T8cRn5H21HBD5oYFRA-4BauMqW4FXMxEnbj7DxZyB3DGSpzdIq-Qz7Uu7d0XLo8E4MJUtqqWu9mjWN3uDmdTBVZuvZz6/s320/F4%20Thing.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="320" data-original-width="240" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikfxOl6m28_lVqu_FpHr-WAx_jCA7FamV_LYYIMhF9Z3g4eXQO_Ed7Hk9nLfSeLmYIrAlfKDfQ8TcITPW5HdIVWyd5T8cRn5H21HBD5oYFRA-4BauMqW4FXMxEnbj7DxZyB3DGSpzdIq-Qz7Uu7d0XLo8E4MJUtqqWu9mjWN3uDmdTBVZuvZz6/s400/F4%20Thing.jpg" /></a></div><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><div style="text-align: center;">Image courtesy of Marvel Comics</div></span><br />
Sue Storm lost her mom at a young age and her father struggled with alcoholism, leaving her to take care of her younger brother Johnny. Even as adults, she is still a motherly figure to those around her. She is the soul of the team, being their voice of reason and emotional support. She is also incredibly powerful and is often underestimated.
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi99-JtyWnwqO5ct6vuzffRomvROmMWbrxX_HDs2dXh5t9bQh9UmaktwXGDuCU7rzSL0rFf6mipnBSH-l_Ije6Ev83J1A7i0KNXfIwRqthIF5hdxEvgS_4fxXzE4AGRJ3RBDSkLr-4pHn1K5NN1feL7_lApSrG3En_k4Rvs8FA18TF6yyo9h6bA/s620/F4%20Sue%20Storm.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="620" data-original-width="400" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi99-JtyWnwqO5ct6vuzffRomvROmMWbrxX_HDs2dXh5t9bQh9UmaktwXGDuCU7rzSL0rFf6mipnBSH-l_Ije6Ev83J1A7i0KNXfIwRqthIF5hdxEvgS_4fxXzE4AGRJ3RBDSkLr-4pHn1K5NN1feL7_lApSrG3En_k4Rvs8FA18TF6yyo9h6bA/s400/F4%20Sue%20Storm.jpg" /></a></div><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><div style="text-align: center;">Image courtesy of Marvel Comics</div></span><br />
Combined, they are Fantastic Four. This is the first superhero team in Marvel Comics and Marvel’s first family. However, their family is bigger than the four of them.
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Reed and Sue are married and have two kids - Franklin and Valeria. As children of super-powered parents, these kids also have abilities. Franklin inherited his father’s intelligence but also possesses the ability to manipulate reality and experiences minor precognitive visions. Valeria didn’t acquire Reed’s intelligence, she superseded it. She mastered several fields of science at a young age including multidimensional physics. She also got her mom’s gift of invisibility and developed the power to project energy. Both kids have limited ability to travel through time. Franklin does so with his psionic powers and Valeria uses a method she calls time-dancing.
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEji1AjP6iHbUiKWfQ4pQB__yDVYZ1u4EJvlDYWrlm277Gcfh8ABxJQbLFHhU72eOBGKNENjrcFIcOkpI3gUY2W1TGsSHCTjAjU0r80aux_LxolWaWfq4eWry8-8T-bO8VfQND1LIxIhKcXY0wKHNp1PlJQNYkZHC8iRaMgfSoOaMx9He6lMvTmo/s950/F4%20kids.webp" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="950" data-original-width="626" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEji1AjP6iHbUiKWfQ4pQB__yDVYZ1u4EJvlDYWrlm277Gcfh8ABxJQbLFHhU72eOBGKNENjrcFIcOkpI3gUY2W1TGsSHCTjAjU0r80aux_LxolWaWfq4eWry8-8T-bO8VfQND1LIxIhKcXY0wKHNp1PlJQNYkZHC8iRaMgfSoOaMx9He6lMvTmo/s400/F4%20kids.webp" /></a></div><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><div style="text-align: center;">Image courtesy of Marvel Comics</div></span><br />
Johnny is uncle to the Richards kids. His best friend, Wyatt Wingfoot doesn’t have any superpowers but is an athletic marksman and has occasionally saved the Four from potentially bad situations by showing up at the right place at the right time. Johnny has also dated a Skrull alien, a member of the Inhumans, and a couple ladies in the X-Men.
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The only member of the team not in the family is Ben. However he is Franklin and Valeria’s godfather and the kids treat him like an uncle. While he tends to be a loner, afraid people won’t accept his appearance, he did develop a relationship with a blind artist named Alicia Masters, who happens to be the daughter of Puppet Master, one of the F4’s foes.
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Then there are the robots. H.E.R.B.I.E. was originally a substitute for the missing Human Torch then became a lab assistant to Reed, butler for the family, and a babysitter for Franklin and Valeria. Roberta was the Baxter Building receptionist. She looked human but didn’t have legs and is attached to her desk. She often outwits hackers and trespassers attempting to access the Fantastic Four’s home.
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While Fantastic Four’s stories are filled with action and adventure, it is the family drama that endeared them to readers. Fans could see themselves in the rivalry and occasional pranks between Ben and Johnny. They could relate to the marital disputes between Sue and Reed. They longed for the loving bond between brother and sister or the mentorship Reed provided Johnny. Everyone wanted a devoted friend like Ben. They laughed together, often quarreled, and adore each other deeply.
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This is the charm Marvel Studios needs to capture that was missing from the previous movies. A family that doesn’t always get along but love each other through crisis and conflict. Individuals who think that can do anything alone but realize they are better together. And heroes who genuinely enjoy a good joke.nichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12406031304387961610noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13343388.post-49808372183059549902024-03-08T15:45:00.000-08:002024-03-08T15:45:11.916-08:00Fantastic Four: A TimelineNovember 1961: The Fantastic Four debuted with issue #1 for Marvel Comics. This is the first team of heroes created by the collaboration between Jack Kirby and Stan Lee. Due to their popularity among readers and their status of being an actual family in fictional continuity, the Four quickly became known as the first family of Marvel.
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0LvNyvne5nhPnp3XmDOHUYx8JSu2TnaCL8AOcWrIjbkJttOWmR6qGC15ItVWkTKZYDBL4KLIw6S-0Hyd9qme2EvPmDLF8t9Iu5wLLGRmMq9kICcPmXXjqIWH6LNCZlNSmQvbqoCUIsjnxEbEe1-NKCafw7OmDwsMha8UpJnqgyZXx2ZMV1xnu/s2800/F4%20no%201.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="2800" data-original-width="1821" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0LvNyvne5nhPnp3XmDOHUYx8JSu2TnaCL8AOcWrIjbkJttOWmR6qGC15ItVWkTKZYDBL4KLIw6S-0Hyd9qme2EvPmDLF8t9Iu5wLLGRmMq9kICcPmXXjqIWH6LNCZlNSmQvbqoCUIsjnxEbEe1-NKCafw7OmDwsMha8UpJnqgyZXx2ZMV1xnu/s400/F4%20no%201.jpg" /></a></div><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><div style="text-align: center;">Image courtesy Marvel Comics</div></span><br />
While superhero teams were not a new concept in the world of comic books, Fantastic Four were unique because they were a family. The first issues introduced Reed Richards (Mr Fantastic) as a man with an elastic body and his girlfriend Sue Storm (Invisible Woman) who could become invisible and project an invisible force field around her. The two would later get married. Also on the team was Johnny Storm (Human Torch), Sue’s brother who could fly and light himself on fire. The last member was Ben Grimm (Thing) who was Reed’s college room mate and possessed a body made or rock. Like all families, this one bickered a lot adding their family drama into the tension of fighting supervillains and anti-heroes like Namor, Dr Doom, Annihilation, and the Silver Surfer.
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July 1963: with issue #16, Marvel dropped the The. The Fantastic Four officially became Fantastic Four.
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1975: Fantastic Four is released as a radio show starring Bill Murray as Human Torch. It doesn’t last long.
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1977: Bill Murray joined the cast of Saturday Night Live, completely redeeming his role as Human Torch.
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September 1967: Hannah-Barbera produces a cartoon Fantastic Four series. It lasts for a rear. The cartoon is revived in 1978 with a different producer. The revival does not include Human Torch, instead they have a robot servant named H.E.R.B.I.E who is incorporated into the comics.
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1Tg8BYOSoNeeWSMdK-D_5domVbt_PJqsX_5Ze8chUiTF_yKNhUUV-RKKTZnp2xH45HhcP7HAMOZW96c0ngzrT3C3wt893SHk7Pq1it9r1Kn1aIZQPdGNMtXeRAKRr1BrhNKdYkRAhiMIdwyLKJg795kI-ZSzHRiVxnvHtKPRWCTpPEfxtOTG0/s320/OGFantastic4.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="243" data-original-width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1Tg8BYOSoNeeWSMdK-D_5domVbt_PJqsX_5Ze8chUiTF_yKNhUUV-RKKTZnp2xH45HhcP7HAMOZW96c0ngzrT3C3wt893SHk7Pq1it9r1Kn1aIZQPdGNMtXeRAKRr1BrhNKdYkRAhiMIdwyLKJg795kI-ZSzHRiVxnvHtKPRWCTpPEfxtOTG0/s400/OGFantastic4.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><div style="text-align: center;">Image courtesy Hannah-Barbera</div></span><br />
1979: another cartoon broadcasts titled Fred and Barney Meet the Thing. Thing is the only F4 character featured in the series and gave us the catch phrase “Thing-rings, do your thing!” We’ll pretend this doesn’t exist.
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9qzKFNhci2gVPFceUgv3gj_-PLUUYZY98cnZYG4zexZRUSGlUaCEP3MCifIlnTv5ts6HZxNJboMnY8x8zG5pcrkI3hytY3wC1a-dmIoxqH2qdDqg2m4ld6cjPP1aDEb1wG71ewbH1RlP-OEKezCjWUS61qmyl4WAwyL-ZraeTjdsiNnYZR_a_/s310/Fred_and_Barney_Meet_the_Thing.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="234" data-original-width="310" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9qzKFNhci2gVPFceUgv3gj_-PLUUYZY98cnZYG4zexZRUSGlUaCEP3MCifIlnTv5ts6HZxNJboMnY8x8zG5pcrkI3hytY3wC1a-dmIoxqH2qdDqg2m4ld6cjPP1aDEb1wG71ewbH1RlP-OEKezCjWUS61qmyl4WAwyL-ZraeTjdsiNnYZR_a_/s400/Fred_and_Barney_Meet_the_Thing.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><div style="text-align: center;">Image courtesy Hannah-Barbera</div></span><br />
1985: Questprobe 3 was released as an 8 bit game on the Atari. It only featured Human Torch and Thing.
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPRmn_cacq3avocI8jX3E0OBYd0KrWM4BjMFsH7Ma2lKDeTTT89Rxpc8cPkO1ldWYvZIfKQQyeMb4SKOIytfVgjHAQ6t0BtniMaRBE_0ZDHPE-XhQiuaO28idBtb4amHzrwBTUfOlIgKff8N60X1RFB1Dby_EkgrAAMsfpIrKVrQazntiXxYPD/s369/Questprobe3.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="369" data-original-width="270" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPRmn_cacq3avocI8jX3E0OBYd0KrWM4BjMFsH7Ma2lKDeTTT89Rxpc8cPkO1ldWYvZIfKQQyeMb4SKOIytfVgjHAQ6t0BtniMaRBE_0ZDHPE-XhQiuaO28idBtb4amHzrwBTUfOlIgKff8N60X1RFB1Dby_EkgrAAMsfpIrKVrQazntiXxYPD/s400/Questprobe3.jpg" /></a></div><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><div style="text-align: center;">Image courtesy of Adventure International</div></span><br />
1986: Constantin Film purchases film rights to Fantastic Four. Those rights were set to expire 12/31/92 if a movie isn’t produced.
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1992: Constantin Film teams up with Roger Corman (known for creating countless B-movies) to produce the first Fantastic Four movie on a $1 million budget. Constantin Film had to make this movie to prevent film rights from being reverted back to Marvel. It was set to be in theaters Labor Day weekend of 1993 but that never happened because it was so terrible. It was never officially released but can be pirated online.
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWBIzs2hTrL5r-0pCXguQCvDVbsyDJ4J4lWkyVjNexqzQcMqLXirGSNnzxSuNhMUzkVKvAMjlsbMUHa3l_TNIJo7t4KJtKyVGAKomgYQEOj0MrM6NUg5WmzDUJXaiXbTBCv-FPyJVTKX0pwN9_4o0cZcJRi5sDJa96Z4xwgZq2vq4r9N3WX-SO/s870/F4%20unreleased.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="870" data-original-width="575" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWBIzs2hTrL5r-0pCXguQCvDVbsyDJ4J4lWkyVjNexqzQcMqLXirGSNnzxSuNhMUzkVKvAMjlsbMUHa3l_TNIJo7t4KJtKyVGAKomgYQEOj0MrM6NUg5WmzDUJXaiXbTBCv-FPyJVTKX0pwN9_4o0cZcJRi5sDJa96Z4xwgZq2vq4r9N3WX-SO/s400/F4%20unreleased.jpg" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Image courtesy of New Concorde</span></div><br />
October 1997: Fantastic Four was released as a beat ‘em up style video game on the original PlayStation.
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQbcvjFXrpfKSthGRsxJeC4L1DdSWXfMJJ1DsrUY-9WJ3Ey22T1EiV-F8gBLfJclCGMcNuODtaMo6uZq9y47w7FMZQ_CsF9lN4nMko3Ywaq9Se0sS_ZHDOk_K8njFTvarTe22p-RJy907o6gSz4Zqmo-gye61Qpkd3-weEdRl4W_AGkGSW8emR/s220/Fantastic-four-ps1.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="217" data-original-width="220" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQbcvjFXrpfKSthGRsxJeC4L1DdSWXfMJJ1DsrUY-9WJ3Ey22T1EiV-F8gBLfJclCGMcNuODtaMo6uZq9y47w7FMZQ_CsF9lN4nMko3Ywaq9Se0sS_ZHDOk_K8njFTvarTe22p-RJy907o6gSz4Zqmo-gye61Qpkd3-weEdRl4W_AGkGSW8emR/s400/Fantastic-four-ps1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><div style="text-align: center;">Image courtesy Acclaim Entertainment</div></span><br />
2004: 20th Century Fox acquired the film rights to Fantastic Four.
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July 2005: 20th Century Fox releases Fantastic Four starring Ioan Gruffudd as Mr Fantastic, Jessica Alba as Invisible Woman, Chris Evans as Human Torch, and Michael Chiklis as Thing. It got mixed reviews. I thought it was just OK. Not bad but not good either.
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2_9Z-jwbTUoOiWWdkew6mbkwIjbdkSVZwZqJ_G6s15ncdrlXU6bM5GVahcdY_OIfl9Xxha9kgW70uExrZna6HZXOt86nJ8mjwIDhnxIlHcptS-n6aBjctdCK0SboLeGqQSMNcDvogdqvHgH1hTZLyYbLoapv6GulwxyR0dnaK0umnWMKpwWYM/s755/fantastic-four-4-movie-poster-2005.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="755" data-original-width="510" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2_9Z-jwbTUoOiWWdkew6mbkwIjbdkSVZwZqJ_G6s15ncdrlXU6bM5GVahcdY_OIfl9Xxha9kgW70uExrZna6HZXOt86nJ8mjwIDhnxIlHcptS-n6aBjctdCK0SboLeGqQSMNcDvogdqvHgH1hTZLyYbLoapv6GulwxyR0dnaK0umnWMKpwWYM/s400/fantastic-four-4-movie-poster-2005.jpg" /></a></div><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><div style="text-align: center;">Image courtesy 20th Century Fox</div></span><br /><div>
September 2006: debut of the cartoon series Fantastic Four: World's Greatest Heroes.
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhee7MRSoxgkVE83WhW7AhLQbEfiLYLPSRY7asWI7AFb0hFTi2gJEDCdgVervip5faSuNAS9-bz6S3NAdBR8LyRGZRmp5AlKHgY7dssdvZDyb2sWH2z8x99otdhrkrmyexKgb20eQaYESypBF5b0Ty1XjK-TPiJzX4hZWS7vg7yPEZKywKvnjY0/s1378/F4%202006.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="1378" data-original-width="1000" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhee7MRSoxgkVE83WhW7AhLQbEfiLYLPSRY7asWI7AFb0hFTi2gJEDCdgVervip5faSuNAS9-bz6S3NAdBR8LyRGZRmp5AlKHgY7dssdvZDyb2sWH2z8x99otdhrkrmyexKgb20eQaYESypBF5b0Ty1XjK-TPiJzX4hZWS7vg7yPEZKywKvnjY0/s400/F4%202006.jpg" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Image courtesy Taffy Entertainment</span></div><br />
October 2006: The Fantastic Four we’re playable characters in the game Ultimate Alliance. A month later it was released on the PlayStation2, then on the Wii another month later. They appeared in the sequel but not playable, and they were playable again as DLC in the third game of the series.
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJZfLhVwlJHGWDjmUwcnb_enPzyOnvead-CAceBCj16seCDkTtkK-XCmCou32mY9HOaAV7fyyhZtPKktuy7aNI4MnXGUHAyrk6udI40k4SkOrfbnLHcgBvttSv8F2KT7mhGDBDNh06eQ_WQnr-CgfJNiHPU-7TroGcOFwLP6tMi6170a8K11Lx/s1500/ultimate%20alliance.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="1500" data-original-width="1000" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJZfLhVwlJHGWDjmUwcnb_enPzyOnvead-CAceBCj16seCDkTtkK-XCmCou32mY9HOaAV7fyyhZtPKktuy7aNI4MnXGUHAyrk6udI40k4SkOrfbnLHcgBvttSv8F2KT7mhGDBDNh06eQ_WQnr-CgfJNiHPU-7TroGcOFwLP6tMi6170a8K11Lx/s400/ultimate%20alliance.jpg" /></a></div><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><div style="text-align: center;">Image courtesy Activision</div></span><br />
June 2007: Fox premiers the movie sequel. Fantastic Four: Rise of the Silver Surfer debuts to more mixed reviews. While I don’t think it was a great movie, I enjoyed it more than its predecessor. There were plans for a third movie that never materialized.
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVEvsflD5ciepuT7F71Qz0qZijS8kfEjKIysvb1VOVnBhXTNhm1Amu-Z0_kpuzkjj-LPzGC8apeTAW5T75qUkmpRlAJlJOBFiRPkn8rtOJl6i_3_tHyNd4wEk2vYJcDco00YYO7jrHT6og47a69V4x6N7Id0tyNIy_akJice4E2iDTaw-kqpCo/s1000/rise%20of%20the%20silver%20surfer.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="698" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVEvsflD5ciepuT7F71Qz0qZijS8kfEjKIysvb1VOVnBhXTNhm1Amu-Z0_kpuzkjj-LPzGC8apeTAW5T75qUkmpRlAJlJOBFiRPkn8rtOJl6i_3_tHyNd4wEk2vYJcDco00YYO7jrHT6og47a69V4x6N7Id0tyNIy_akJice4E2iDTaw-kqpCo/s400/rise%20of%20the%20silver%20surfer.jpg" /></a></div><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><div style="text-align: center;">Image courtesy 20th Century Fox</div></span><br />
September 2009: Debut of the cartoon Super Hero Squad. This show features a wide variety of marvel characters and frequently includes members of Fantastic Four. My older three kids were obsessed with this show when it came out.
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyD82_Rn2jHHbFg4mACqkov9DygGQTprILsz0JQJDE4wJPBRezrDZ-jNnqjIaFR08BQ8tWce3Frt6V2hHeEI_59HHYik_j1lG5QoSRdDZmzCUiM7DnJXAfAnwSIWEJhZdvkwNSFpG9h28FWP0GOOlmkk0LH4qjSsghcuxnSbUfK25A4w_beXjd/s364/Super_Hero_Squad.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="364" data-original-width="273" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyD82_Rn2jHHbFg4mACqkov9DygGQTprILsz0JQJDE4wJPBRezrDZ-jNnqjIaFR08BQ8tWce3Frt6V2hHeEI_59HHYik_j1lG5QoSRdDZmzCUiM7DnJXAfAnwSIWEJhZdvkwNSFpG9h28FWP0GOOlmkk0LH4qjSsghcuxnSbUfK25A4w_beXjd/s400/Super_Hero_Squad.jpg" /></a></div><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><div style="text-align: center;">Image courtesy Marvel Animation</div></span><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>
2011: Chris Evans is cast as Captain America in the MCU, completely redeeming his role as Human Torch.
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August 20015: Fox released the Josh Trank Fant4stic starring stars Miles Teller as Mr Fantastic, Kate Mara as Invisible Woman, Michael B. Jordan as Human Torch, Jamie Bell as Thing. This movie was created for the same reason as the unreleased Fantastic Four movie - to prevent the film rights from expiring and reverting back to Marvel. And just like the 90s F4 movie, it sucked. It was trashed by critics, ignored by fans, and won two golden raspberry awards (worst director and worst picture).
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMBZ8xY0aLaTY9IyWnjRAbMyeCKnl5zVLMNsxcK0PbKQn5xXcZoUMc2bWmOrWb6FRcR_e7xj1LY_VIcOkPWVA644QGiXU-n4uH-DxFidin94WET7XzjTSCvXJNnv_4VWG7rYOgTQutNhsRu18xICv9OriGZSfETyhwx0tblwzYGTFfI62eEvhm/s384/Fantastic_Four_2015_poster.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="384" data-original-width="260" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMBZ8xY0aLaTY9IyWnjRAbMyeCKnl5zVLMNsxcK0PbKQn5xXcZoUMc2bWmOrWb6FRcR_e7xj1LY_VIcOkPWVA644QGiXU-n4uH-DxFidin94WET7XzjTSCvXJNnv_4VWG7rYOgTQutNhsRu18xICv9OriGZSfETyhwx0tblwzYGTFfI62eEvhm/s400/Fantastic_Four_2015_poster.jpg" /></a></div><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><div style="text-align: center;">Image courtesy 20th Century Fox</div></span><br />
2018: Michael B. Jordan was cast as Killmanger in Black Panther, completely redeeming his role as Human Torch.
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March 2019: Disney bought 21st Century Fox, returning Fantastic Film rights to Marvel Studios.
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July 2019: Kevin Feige appeared at San Diego Comic-Con to announce the slate of upcoming MCU projects in production, which included Fantastic Four.
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTcWPcITxj8J5_SzWFYS7yrkGVYAPkTYJnCQMKoj-epajp34LkQpDqnLaxcCWxBI42XZmSPAvUtqH9vFlDH4zZcFLw0BklXJIZp2x0vjDrfoEfk0jgysuMfZqg8cRNxenlEXTcc_VZUHKcaIfVFYbMTsh_Cvk9hCElaqRBLdNmdJIHbsoVh13N/s681/fantastic-four-marvel-studios.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="383" data-original-width="681" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTcWPcITxj8J5_SzWFYS7yrkGVYAPkTYJnCQMKoj-epajp34LkQpDqnLaxcCWxBI42XZmSPAvUtqH9vFlDH4zZcFLw0BklXJIZp2x0vjDrfoEfk0jgysuMfZqg8cRNxenlEXTcc_VZUHKcaIfVFYbMTsh_Cvk9hCElaqRBLdNmdJIHbsoVh13N/s400/fantastic-four-marvel-studios.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><div style="text-align: center;">Image courtesy Marvel Studios</div></span><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>
May 2022: Mr Fantastic has a brief appearance in Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness as a member of The Illuminati. He’s portrayed by fan casting favorite John Krasinski.
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib3ZmZy8J9g-wkEknvJZ2r_3UdNkaER4-bl5iVylsnPkKXymaMs7QDXQJNnnlpIEbdamij9rf-oSInQfF4ejUfKLSnmGnGv9IeVBtX8cumLYoUZsEkbJ_BET6XXu235QLTgI97ZENRhefXk7j-t1wFOi5aRh-XPrfCRDLqy1JTBo1Gy9z2TpR1/s1280/Mr%20Fantastic.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib3ZmZy8J9g-wkEknvJZ2r_3UdNkaER4-bl5iVylsnPkKXymaMs7QDXQJNnnlpIEbdamij9rf-oSInQfF4ejUfKLSnmGnGv9IeVBtX8cumLYoUZsEkbJ_BET6XXu235QLTgI97ZENRhefXk7j-t1wFOi5aRh-XPrfCRDLqy1JTBo1Gy9z2TpR1/s400/Mr%20Fantastic.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><div style="text-align: center;">Image courtesy Marvel Studios</div></span><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>
September 2022: At the D23 Expo, Kevin Feige announced a director (Matt Shakman) and a release date (11/8/24). The release has since been pushed back to 7/25/25.
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November 2023: It is heavily rumored then confirmed Pedro Pascal was cast to play Mr Fantastic in the MCU. This is a disappointment to many (including me) who wanted to see John Krasinski continue this character. Since Pascal perfected his geek chops as a loner escorting a special child to safety in The Mandalorian and as a loner escorting a special child to safety in The Last Of Us, jokes started circulating social media asking which special child he would escort to safety in Fantastic Four.
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February 2024: For Valentine’s Day, Marvel Studios released a teaser image for Fantastic Four confirming the cast. Pedro Pascal as Mr Fantastic, Vanessa Kirby as Invisible Woman, Joseph Quinn as Human Torch, and Ebon Moss-Bachrach as Thing. Easter eggs in the announcement confirm rumors that the movie would be set in the sixties.<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFRc8DJLyVdkC1Vr3rQXdNgN7W1vYM6ZTy2_gKtO1AMtWq7BdD8GV-7XxCq6wl8phfVl-gwKKbHEDctR7IlObeVUmnqfQ66qKnmzg0-e4wymf6p6Rl1Nzq6yI4sK83spzm_Xayt0hAODqNFkw_f6cmL7cbLeSvcOfAa3M1rVTWbhr9K2aLGJzA/s1350/marvels-fantastic-four.webp" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="1350" data-original-width="1080" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFRc8DJLyVdkC1Vr3rQXdNgN7W1vYM6ZTy2_gKtO1AMtWq7BdD8GV-7XxCq6wl8phfVl-gwKKbHEDctR7IlObeVUmnqfQ66qKnmzg0-e4wymf6p6Rl1Nzq6yI4sK83spzm_Xayt0hAODqNFkw_f6cmL7cbLeSvcOfAa3M1rVTWbhr9K2aLGJzA/s400/marvels-fantastic-four.webp" /></a></div><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><div style="text-align: center;">Image courtesy Marvel Studios</div></span></div>nichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12406031304387961610noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13343388.post-26580081193643869002024-03-04T06:58:00.000-08:002024-03-04T06:58:28.659-08:00Soul Laid Bare<div style="text-align: center;">She is the sun on my skin and the breeze in my hair</div><div style="text-align: center;">She is nowhere to be found and absolutely everywhere</div><div style="text-align: center;">She is chaos incarnate with a divine flair</div><div style="text-align: center;">She is clothes backwards inside out and doesn’t care</div><div style="text-align: center;">She is the dance beat between the kick and the snare</div><div style="text-align: center;">She makes every mess and takes every dare</div><div style="text-align: center;">She terrifies me yet she’s a breath of fresh air</div><div style="text-align: center;">She’s my daughter and she is my soul laid bare</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOqBn2abgFi90-vhSR2Ad7SYhDU78ekwSBkf8wckEVEIFb5po87K3ewwuuiewTa6zQOnsDd7kmBeMTjbaoeDNj1T5OEOc6puPan0Ih1EkAi91mneckz8SRZhYHx9UtkghIV2k_0FxWiLMxGlG8Lc1-dHsgxg9L7RLmQp18R0ej6d668-fulJqa/s4032/IMG_5446.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="2504" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOqBn2abgFi90-vhSR2Ad7SYhDU78ekwSBkf8wckEVEIFb5po87K3ewwuuiewTa6zQOnsDd7kmBeMTjbaoeDNj1T5OEOc6puPan0Ih1EkAi91mneckz8SRZhYHx9UtkghIV2k_0FxWiLMxGlG8Lc1-dHsgxg9L7RLmQp18R0ej6d668-fulJqa/s400/IMG_5446.jpg" /></a></div>nichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12406031304387961610noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13343388.post-19050206831216597662024-02-24T18:38:00.000-08:002024-02-24T18:38:18.160-08:00Of Elk and Maddening TimesPick an animal. Any animal. You will surely find symbolism for that creature within the indigenous cultures native to the lands forming the wildlife’s natural habitats. From Africa to Europe to the Americas to South East Asia. As long as humans have interacted with the animal kingdom, we have looked to our furry, feathered, and scaled friends to derive meaning, provide sustenance, and deliver omens.
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In recent years, I’ve grown fascinated with mythologies from around the world. I’ve studied the gods of ancient Egypt and the convoluted stories of Norse mythos. I’ve researched the religious pantheon of Greece, India, and Japan. I’ve delved into the mythological creatures of the Irish, Scottish, and British lore.
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This intellectual quest is not a search for faith. I already have a core set of beliefs and am not looking to upgrade or replace. However, I’ve reached a phase in my life where I care more about why people believe what they believe than what they actually believe. The human mind intrigues me. While I am skeptical the appearance of a beast or a constellation can predict my future, I think it’s important to understand how cultures of our history interpreted the world around us and how it shaped their lives and folklore. From totems to spirit animals, creatures great and small had deep meaning to peoples of every continent.
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Especially as I get my skin decorated with ink. This fall I will have a sloth added to my arm, with plans for a crow, mountain goat, jackalope, sasquatch, and the jörmungandr to be a part of my collection of tats as soon as possible. Yes, I realize three of those are mythical creatures, yet even the cryptids and beasts of myths are important in understanding why people do what they do. Because of my tattoo dreams, I have spent a significant amount of time studying the symbolism of these animals and more (bees, bunnies, sharks, hummingbirds, etc).
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Which brings us to the elk. This grand species of the deer family once populated most of North America (with one subspecies stretching into Mexico), Northern Europe, and northern Asia which exposed elk to a wide variety of ancient cultures from the Pacific coast, to Scandinavia, into the northern islands of Japan. Unfortunately, elk went extinct in much their former lands, now remaining in the Cascade and Rocky Mountains of US and Canada, and the eastern regions where Russia, Mongolia, and China meet.
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For Buddhists in eastern Asia, elk were seen as messengers and guided lost travelers away from peril. Seeing an elk in the wild would lead people to believe they were enlightened. They thought elk represented a search for truth, harmony with nature, and the ability to live peacefully without attachment.
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The Celts saw nobility, pride, independence, strength, and endurance in elk. They believed elk guided heroes through danger and on secret quests. In Ireland, elk were omens of success if seen during the harvest season.
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The Norse connected elk to Freyr, the god of peace, sunshine, and rain. For them, the animal represented peace, prosperity, and … um … reproductive potency.
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Myths and legends about elk varied across America depending on the tribe. Most groups revered elk for their strength, stamina, and noble appearance. When hunted for sustenance, Native Americans used every part of the elk for food, clothing, shelter, and jewelry. The elk was essential to the Osage creation story. Lakota Sioux saw them as symbols of good fortune in hunting. It was a sacred animal for the Cherokee nation. In the Pacific Northwest there were legends of elk finding women captured by enemy tribes then leading them back home. Depending on the region, elk represented attributes like pride, independence, freedom, guidance, protection, success, triumph, survival, prosperity, and overcoming obstacles.
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Knowing these things, imagine my delight seeing this herd after leaving the house earlier this week, on my way to set up my first DJ gig of 2024.
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This last year has been difficult at our house. Outside forces have brought Annie and me closer together than ever before, yet our souls are wounded and our spirits are weary. We have shed a lot of tears and prayed with broken hearts. When confronted with a deluge of discouragement and tragedy, it would be nice to get a sign – something to remind us that everything is going to be OK.
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Mythologies and folklore are something people invented. Yet they are real as a way we have handed down stories through generations from one to the next. In many ways, what is fact or fiction is irrelevant. These beliefs, traditions, and superstitions existed for a reason. Once you dig into the different stories, you begin to see a commonality between this culture and that culture, from one region to another. With elk, there are similarities connecting people separated by oceans and vast distances.
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Nearly all ancient populations thought bull elks signified attributes like strength, confidence, and determination. They found qualities like protection, providence, and provision in cow elks. When they spotted a whole herd, most cultures interpreted it as a sign of community and the need to rely on those around you. There is a universal certainty an elk crossing your path was a suggestion to change course. In dreams, it was commonly believed elk represented fortitude, resilience, and overcoming trials.
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Seeing a herd of animals won’t change the course of my life, even creatures as majestic as the elk. Still, the myths about elk are too consistent to be accidental. Folklore survives because it teaches us lessons about our people, our land, and our selves. If I am superstitious to think finding a herd of elk grazing in a field along the road is a sign from God that my community has my back, so be it. Nothing is harmed feeling a bit more confident and determined from the tales of my ancestors.nichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12406031304387961610noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13343388.post-53981494501992626182024-02-10T08:16:00.000-08:002024-02-10T08:16:46.953-08:00To Be President (Let’s Play a Game)Presidential debates are a joke, right? It’s just two (sometimes three) candidates from opposing parties criticizing each other while competing in mental gymnastics to avoid answering questions placed by the moderator who lost control of the event before it even started. Or in the case of Donald Trump, debates are an opportunity to be creepy and follow your opponent around like some sort of menacing sexual predator.
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEin786eoM64eLFpZPzANc9tgwpO1oC3Gj6VIbCLB6UJ7vcBmtfI2oE09sMr_NL39nEjGrcjRPtNSuvWT00aaJ9uHa5LrLMH-zLKw8ccNm8OggwuOk23VcpzNqjnjl6nSLs57o9dqY8NVIN_xOc5TWm6JkobppOIwUQn-utGlwo3zUAIq3I1SPV6/s1280/debate%20stalker.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; "><img alt="" border="0" width="400" data-original-height="768" data-original-width="1280" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEin786eoM64eLFpZPzANc9tgwpO1oC3Gj6VIbCLB6UJ7vcBmtfI2oE09sMr_NL39nEjGrcjRPtNSuvWT00aaJ9uHa5LrLMH-zLKw8ccNm8OggwuOk23VcpzNqjnjl6nSLs57o9dqY8NVIN_xOc5TWm6JkobppOIwUQn-utGlwo3zUAIq3I1SPV6/s400/debate%20stalker.jpg"/></a></div>
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I remember when the debates were actual debates. Some boring newscaster would ask the candidates what they would do about various issues facing Americans; then the wannabe presidents would provide a vague semblance of what they believe to be the best course of action. Their opponent would poke holes in those policy plans then the same question would be posed to the second candidate with the first hopeful to dismantle the opposing ideas.
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Those days are gone. I don’t have any hope of such a format returning to American political discourse. However, I’m not thrilled about the current approach of letting all the monkeys fling poo at each other until the broadcast is terminated. Besides, we already know what positions the candidates support. We’re not learning anything new from the debates.
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Many people have suggested adding an age limit for presidential qualifications but I have a better idea. Instead of an arbitrary number, what if we could use the debates to filter out those who are too old due to incompetence or mental decline? What if we created a method far more educational and entertaining than what we do now? At least it would be fun and informative for the average voter; I’m not sure how much the candidates would enjoy it. All nominees in the general election (3rd parties included) should compete in a series of game shows based on high school civics exams, citizenship tests for immigrants, and introductory level understandings of things like economics, law, and geography. Instead of pundits from various news networks hosting these competitive debates, they should be hosted by the comedians of late night television.
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The first round should be a Jeopardy style game with trivia from high school civics classes. All clues will be read in the form of an answer. Contestants, ahem, I mean candidates should buzz in to answer with a question. Categories could include topics like Current World Leaders, Cabinet Positions, Constitutional Amendments, Checks and Balances, War on Drugs, and Immigration Policy.
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Round Two: Hollywood Squares. Just like the classic game show, celebrities fill up a 3x3 tower of booths to help (or decidedly not help) the candidates as they take turns with questions taken straight from the test immigrants take to become citizens. When a would-be president answers a question correctly, they get an X or an O for a competitive game of tic-tac-toe.
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Next up, round three is Hot Ones. Candidates are asked a series of questions about the functions of the government and various branches of the armed forces. If they answer correctly, nothing happens. If they get a question wrong, they have to eat a chicken wing covered hot sauce. Or meatless wing if they’re a vegetarian. The wings get spicier with each subsequent wrong answer. The more they get wrong, the hotter their wings get.
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Where in the World are American Interests? fills up the fourth round with geography questions. In this Carmen Sandiego spoof, candidates are the gumshoes answering questions focused on the locations of our foreign allies, military assets, and global conflicts.
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The fifth round features kids. In Are You Smarter than a Fifth Grader? each candidate is paired with an elementary student to answer basic questions about American history, ethics, business, money, and culture. If the candidate gets a question wrong while it is successfully answered by their fifth grade partner, the moderator will make jokes about the failing potential president’s educational degrees and professional accomplishments.
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The final debate is a revamped Price Is Right. In this competition, those running for president will play a bunch of mini games to guess how much money it takes to live in America. The idea is to see which candidate is most aware of what American consumers pay for basic necessities of housing, transportation, utilities, education, food, clothing, health care, and electronics.
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We don’t need to hear candidates spout their opinions about hot button issues because we know those will fall into ideological lines of their parties. It would be helpful to know if these potentially most powerful people in the world are smart enough to handle the basics of the presidency. Do they know what they’re talking about - even if you don’t agree with their biases?
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Six rounds of game shows replacing debates. Attendance mandatory. Everything is scored so there can be definitive winners and losers. All facts, no opinions. Hosted and moderated by funny folks like Steven Colbert, Jimmy Kimmel, Conan O’Brien, Amber Ruffin, Seth Meyers, and John Oliver. Losing doesn’t remove POTUS hopefuls from the ballot but (hopefully) sways voters to pick better Presidents. This plan even has the potential to create a smarter electorate. Perhaps the viewer will learn something about this country while learning about their favorite contestant. I mean candidate. Perhaps, with a better educated populace, we could avoid repeating the mistakes of our past.
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Theoretically speaking of course. What do I know? I’m just a DJ and an author.nichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12406031304387961610noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13343388.post-72957272961599933952024-02-09T08:36:00.000-08:002024-02-24T18:26:06.172-08:00To Be President (On Paper)The constitutional requirements for someone to become the President of the United States of American is embarrassingly sparse. Or at least, the qualifications to be eligible are few.
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1. Must be at least 35 years old. Technically a 34 year old could campaign as long as they turn 35 before the inauguration. <br>
2. Must be a natural born citizen of the USA. There’s been lots of arguments about what that means, and that’s a debate I do not wish to settle. <br>
3. Must have been an American resident for at least 14 years. Suck it ex-pats.
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That’s it. You gotta live here, be born here, and be 35 or older. With math and some rough estimations, that’s roughly 120 million Americans who are eligible to become president. Why don’t more people run? Well, from a humorist’s perspective, the only people who want to become president are the kinds of people who should never be president. Theory has it one must be pathologically narcissistic to run for president.
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In reality though, money rules the USA. Only rich people can afford to run for president. That takes our estimated 120 million eligible natural born American residents over the age of 35 down to a list of 22 million millionaires. But 1% of millionaires are under 35, so some more calculations give us 21.7 million who meet the constitutional standards to be president and possess the capital to run for office.
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Even money and meeting qualifications aren’t enough. You need to be accepted by a party and we all know there’s enough infighting in politics to exclude certain candidates from their own party’s primaries. Even if one is on the primary ballot, those candidates must appeal to the most extreme elements of their base to make it through to the general election. If we’ve learned anything from the 2016 and 2020 elections, overcrowded clown cars in the primaries tend to provide the worst possible candidates in the general election.
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All things considered, from the wealth to the influence of the fringes - becoming president is not simple. However, I believe it’s too easy to qualify to be president. Being the right age, naturally born, and residing in America is not enough. Our guidelines should be a little more stringent. If I had it my way (which we all know I don’t) I would include a few more requirements for anyone to be eligible for the presidency.
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1. Be a natural born citizen of the USA. <br>
2. Reside in the USA for at least the previous 14 years. <br>
3. Be 35 years of age or older. <br>
4. Must have one election for either municipal, state, or federal position. <br>
5. Cannot be the parent, child, spouse, or sibling of a previous President. <br>
6. Can only run for President once unless running for reelection.
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Just imagine how different our United States would be right now if we had these rules.
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George W Bush would have never been President. <br>
Hillary Clinton would not have been the DNC candidate in 2016. <br>
Carly Fiorina would not have been in the GOP 2016 primary. <br>
We wouldn’t have heard jokes about Low Energy Jeb. <br>
Donald Trump would still be a reality TV star and polarizing celebrity instead of a former president facing multiple indictments. <br>
Tom Steyer would not have been in the DNC 2020 primary. <br>
There’d be no need for Chris Christie to withdraw from the 2024 race. <br>
Vivek Ramaswamy would not have had a 2024 campaign to terminate. <br>
Jill Stein would’t be currently running for the Green Party. <br>
We would have had candidates of greater quality in the previous two and current elections. <br>
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How much better off would our nation be right now if the 2016 election was Marco Rubio or Ben Carson versus Bernie Sanders or Martin O’Malley? Where would we be if Pete Buttigieg or Andrew Yang won the nomination four years ago instead of Joe Biden.
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Looking into the future, these three new requirements I propose would prevent Michelle Obama or Don Jr from running for president because they are the offspring of or married to a former president. Kamala Harris would be disqualified from running for President because she ran in 2020. As much as I like Cory Booker and John Kasich, neither of them would qualify to run for President because they were unsuccessful in their last attempts. No more Ron DeSantis or Beto O'Rourke or the national stage. We wouldn’t have any random rich dudes who got wealthy through pharmaceutical or tech startups decide they are smart enough to run the country. No more real estate moguls or CEOs who sold the SuperSonics to OKC thinking their wealth qualifies them to be the POTUS.
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Theoretically speaking of course. What do I know? I’m just a dude who writes books and plays music for other people. nichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12406031304387961610noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13343388.post-26509505788253321172024-02-03T14:57:00.000-08:002024-02-03T14:57:05.942-08:00Scenes from a Movie We’ll Never SeeWe all know this castle right?
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<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Image courtesy Disney</span></div><br />
We have observed Tinker Bell flying over this structure for the better part of the last century. Soon, there’s a movie coming from the house of mouse the younger version of me thought would never happen.
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ_1eaQk-O2OkAXzu2ASAxjzTbsbSl28aYn3CReea4sKY6cU-9c8Zds8FyB3_aDBTbEIRCX4VACR8RPZbT9NCU7b_hgR0ApGJr2Z7_Azi9fIfYQXHdMwOMJG6aG-Plivgx-mdaT1btKWzLRgMIPb2v9AACy1cjfim7WzbBUYeLUQqEsxxEwXck/s1200/disney%20deadpool.png" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="631" data-original-width="1200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ_1eaQk-O2OkAXzu2ASAxjzTbsbSl28aYn3CReea4sKY6cU-9c8Zds8FyB3_aDBTbEIRCX4VACR8RPZbT9NCU7b_hgR0ApGJr2Z7_Azi9fIfYQXHdMwOMJG6aG-Plivgx-mdaT1btKWzLRgMIPb2v9AACy1cjfim7WzbBUYeLUQqEsxxEwXck/s400/disney%20deadpool.png" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Image courtesy movieweb.com</span></div><br /><br /><div>
Humor me for a moment.
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You’re sitting in a darkened theater and the Marvel fanfare begins. You’ve watched enough MCU movies to know what’s coming. Flashing comic book pages followed by reddened clips of Earth’s Mightiest Heroes framing the inside edges of letters comprising the words Marvel Studios. However, instead of Chris Pratt, Chris Hemsworth, and Chris Evans populating the studio title card, it’s all images of Deadpool doing inappropriate things from his first two movies.
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Next up is the Disney branding. This is where the Magic Kingdom comes in. However, instead of the home fit for Cinderella, the castle we all know and love is constructed with katanas, pistols, grenades, rocket launchers, sais, and knives. The sky is red, the river black. Replacing the old ship, there’s a food truck selling chimichangas. Instead of the orchestral version of “When You Wish Upon a Star” as the fanfare, you have Flava Flav singing the lyrics in the same passionate and slightly off key voice like when <a href="https://youtu.be/a-8IizfjPv0?si=I5kS1SBvp6dMKIsJ" target="_blank">he sang the National Anthem</a>. With the last line “come to you” you hear the snikt sound of Wolverine’s claws, then a second snikt, followed by a slash.
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When the Disney fanfare is done, the camera zooms into and through the castle doors as if it was attached to a drone flown by Wade Wilson. Once inside the castle, the camera turns 180° to replay a clip from 2018’s Deadpool 2 where Wolverine is about to fight the weird Deadpool from 2009’s X-Men Origins. Through Logan’s claws, you watch the crappy Deadpool get shot in the head by the cool Deadpool. Deadpool steps out and says “Hey, it’s me, don’t scratch.”
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<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Image courtesy <s>Fox</s> Marvel/Disney</span></div><br />
This is all straight from the post credits scene of Deadpool 2. As soon as Wade says “Don’t scratch,” you hear a record scratch and the frame freezes. Over the motionless action from the previous movie, the new Deadpool’s narration begins.
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“Remember when this happened? Ever since then, shit got weird. How weird? Glad you asked.”
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Suddenly, new footage starts in a room full of Deadpools from different universes. One is wearing a Santa hat, one is dressed like Gwenpool (voiced by Blake Lively), one is a cartoon, there’s a dinosaur, and a kid. With the exception of Gwenpool and the kid, all of them are played by Ryan Reynolds. This collection of Deadpool variants are arguing about which Deadpool is the real Deadpool. One of them cracks, screaming “there can be only one” and kills all of them except Gwenpool. He tells Gwenpool, “Bye hon, I’ll see you when I’m done with filming.”
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Breaking the fourth wall, Deadpool looks at the camera and says “I told them I was the real Deadpool.” He pauses and cocks his head to the side then continues. “Wait, what if I’m not the real Deadpool.” Wade looks around and kicks a couple corpses to see if any other Deadpools are still alive then faces the camera again. “Oh well, too late now. The last Deadpool puts on a pair of Mickey Mouse ears and leaves the room while whistling the dwarfs’ tune from Snow White: “Whistle While You Work.”
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Title card. <b><span style="color: red;">DEADPOOL 3</span></b> fills the screen. The opening credits sequence features a gratuitous amount of Deadpool twerking with the soundtrack playing Ying Yang Twins’ song “Whistle While You Twurk.” Deadpool twerks with Chewbacca, She-Hulk, Zachary Levi dressed like Flynn Rider, the emotions from Inside Out, Quorra from Tron, Will Smith’s Genie, Woody and Buzz, Domino and Cable, Ernesto de la Cruz, Loki, Olaf, Gaston, Quasimodo, Sir Patrick Stewart, Salacious B. Crumb, and Ke Huy Quan reprising his role of Short Round but he’s wearing Indiana Jones’ hat.
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I know the real movie won’t start like this but dang I’d love it if it did. There are a lot of scenes I want to see in Deadpool 3 which I know will never happen. Because I’m not a writer with Marvel Studios; I’m just a fan. But if I was one of Disney/Marvel’s screenwriters, here are a few other bits I’d include.
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Peter Dinklage comes back as Bolivar Trask - the villain he played in 2014’s Days of Future Past. He’s lamenting how his sentinel project failed and wants to hire a mercenary to kill all the mutants. Deadpools shows up to take the job. After introductions, Deadpool tells Trask “You look like my friend Eitri. But you can’t be him, he was a giant.”
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In another scene, Deadpool and Wolverine explore the X Mansion where they run into Bobby Drake, AKA Iceman played by Shawn Ashmore from Days of Future Past. When Iceman demonstrates his powers, Deadpool asks “Do you want to build a snowman?” Wolverine the grump answers “No.” Deadpool replies with singing “OK bye …”
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Wolverine goes feral and destroys a building. Deadpool tells him “You’re stealing Wreck-It-Ralph’s job.”
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Deadpool asks if Harrison Ford is going to show up throughout the movie. At one point, he asks “Which Ford are we going to see next? Han Solo, Doctor Jones, or the red hulk.” After knocking on a door, Calista Flockhart answers. Deadpool asks her if Harrison can come out and play. Flockhart says “He’s busy filming Air Force Two.”
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If any of these scenes appear in the final version of Deadpool 3, I will be the giddiest fanboy in the theater. Reality is I’m not Professor X, Jean Grey, Emma Frost, Stryfe, or any other physic powered mutant so I can’t predict what jokes or songs or cameos will be in the real movie. I won’t riot if my wishes are unfulfilled. What I do want is bountiful Disney jokes. I want to hear jokes about the MCU’s inconsistent timeline and how the Netflix series were retconned to be cannon. I want to hear Deadpool criticize Marvel’s toxic fandom telling them to shut up when it comes to shows and movies featuring female superheroes. I want a rickroll. Even if I don’t get any of that, I just want the movie to be fun.
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My version is not coming to theaters ever. But Disney’s version is set to be released in July and (if the rumors are true) the trailer will debut during the Super Bowl. Until then, we can only speculate what shenanigans the merc with a mouth will get into.
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiY1N5aSdMy-_Bz8ENOFmYIy25PX0jPmUe3VJL55o2JrLJhZwKVpNwP-hHq7cZHUDygbTpXsQe-He8kCV7UnkbWHZR1kiCvZNQpZInOzxy2KdhSnOcPliV-2o_-WSgaF0rd8z1JbSZ1h1p4fFvu3yj3ynd5t4yGNZFJgdNs8-hiWgF5U_lCBKJk/s1500/deadpool%20and%20logan.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="1500" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiY1N5aSdMy-_Bz8ENOFmYIy25PX0jPmUe3VJL55o2JrLJhZwKVpNwP-hHq7cZHUDygbTpXsQe-He8kCV7UnkbWHZR1kiCvZNQpZInOzxy2KdhSnOcPliV-2o_-WSgaF0rd8z1JbSZ1h1p4fFvu3yj3ynd5t4yGNZFJgdNs8-hiWgF5U_lCBKJk/s400/deadpool%20and%20logan.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><div style="text-align: center;">Image courtesy Marvel/Disney</div></span></div>nichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12406031304387961610noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13343388.post-86019463693119753002024-01-13T11:22:00.000-08:002024-01-13T11:22:45.724-08:00My Grandmother, Eshet ChayilAuthor and Christian influencer Rachel Held Evens often used the Hebrew phrase eshet chayil, translated to mean woman of valor. Taken from the 31st chapter of Proverbs: “eshet chayil who can find? She is worth more than rubies.” In Hebrew, the word chayil suggests bravery, courage, and strength. If one marries a woman of valor, she sets the tone of love and growth for everyone around her.
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This term fascinated me from the first moment I learned it. I wanted to write about it but could not find a fitting way until Grandma Casey passed away the evening on January 3rd. She was a woman who embodied strength and courage. Looking at her, you would never expect it - she was eshet chayil in the most unlikely figures.
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Why so unlikely? She should not have lived. Conceived in unfortunate circumstances, born with a defect that should have given her a premature life expectancy, and raised as an unwanted child, Lois Casey was a woman who defied all odds. To see her, you would never know she was winning in a life where the cards she was dealt were stacked against her. However, I didn’t know she was a woman of such valor until later in life.
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My earliest memories were the weekly phone calls which served as our Saturday morning alarm clock. It was 8am in Yukon but 6am on the west coast. She would greet me and my brother with love and compassion then talk with my dad to stay current with the events of our lives. One summer, my brother and I spent part of our vacation staying at her house. She spoiled us, it was the first time I ever ate Fruity Pebbles. It was a cereal my parents would never buy for us but grandma believed kids deserved to eat fun food. This was the grandma I grew up with. Cheerful, good natured, caring, and a little rambunctious.
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When I was a teenager, grandma revealed to us the truth of her birth and childhood, stories she had not told anyone. It was then we began to see the warrior spirit inside her petite frame, wrinkled skin, and gentle voice. She remained faithful to loving her husband, her kids and grandkids, her church, and her friends. She welcomed strangers and acted as their host as if she were entertaining Jesus. She took her role as a Christian seriously and devoted her life to being the voice and hands of God to anyone who needed it.
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The disability she was born with should have stunted her life span, instead it only stunted her height, and it could not withhold the giant inside her. She prayed with unimaginable power. If she was going to pray for you, it was known she would be relentless in her appeals to God until she got an answer. She was a firecracker with the passion aflame in her eyes. The compassion she carried ignited her, directing everything she did. Grandma Casey was fierce in the lengths she went to demonstrate God’s love for everyone she encountered.
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When Grandpa Casey passed, she could have enjoyed her latter years as a doting grandmother. Instead she became ordained and devoted her life to ministry. She became an inspiring beacon of light. She taught us to expect the unexpected, to see miracles in the most mundane and unlikely places.
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For as long as I can remember, I’ve known Grandma was praying for me. She prayed for my health and protection through the most devastating days of my life. She prayed for my success in the throws of defeat. She prayed that I would love others and be completely loved. No matter my circumstances, I knew the power of grandma’s prayers and the encouragement of her words were only a phone call away. Seven and a half years ago, I made such a phone call to return the favor.
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When my wife and I first met, we didn’t want to publicize it. We wanted to take the time to get to know each other before we introduced our friends and family. We kept it secret for a few months, not mentioning the details of our dates on social media, and enjoying this period of newfound romance free from outside influences. Around this same time, Grandma’s health began to decline. My dad texted me one day to let me know she had been moved to hospice and would likely be with us for only a few more days.
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Sitting that night in my church parking lot, I dialed her phone number and had a beautiful conversation with her. I also let her know I had found someone special. I broke my rules for grandma because I could not bear the thought of her leaving this world without knowing I was going to be OK. Grandma Casey was the first person on this planet to know I had fallen in love. I did so because she was a woman of valor. I knew that if she would be in prayer through her dying breath, she would include my future wife in her appeals before God.
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Then, as often was the case with Grandma Casey, a miracle happened. Her health mended and life continued. She remained a warrior. She bravely approached the end of her life, giving time for my father, my aunt Iona, and my aunt Phyllis to visit and spend time at her side, sharing with them the unassailable joy and stubborn will God created deep in her soul.
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Slowly, age took over. Her body and mind weakened. Yet her spirit persevered. In her final days, she continued to demonstrate courage and strength. She was ready to see Jesus face to face. She was ready to be reunited with her Harvey. She was ready to go home.
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Today, and in the years to come, it is my hope for those who knew her to remember her as a warrior - brave and bold with a mischievous streak. I will forever know her as a Proverbs 31 lady, eshet chayil, a woman of valor.
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She kept her head in all situations, endured hardship, and did the work of an evangelist. She fought the good fight, finished the race, and kept the faith. Now she has been awarded a crown of righteousness. Today she stands in strength and glory, receiving the words “Well done Lois Casey, good and faithful servant. Welcome home.”
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY6NflTDZL3p3Lje9Gg8d_DH21gdXFntqBxAQP3dBZxWEGfsoorin8iKuENcgvDb1hUoHPaN3siGkptMgmQTTX0Lvj58rkPyEFwBlSpRgmdeO-KV5bqSb2tU81sDRtJyiwZDa9wZH3k73zfTAtvFH_W3NnVypDauZaNDWP83ZQGLCFfKFUFBxf/s453/Grandma%20Casey.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; "><img alt="" border="0" height="400" data-original-height="453" data-original-width="316" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY6NflTDZL3p3Lje9Gg8d_DH21gdXFntqBxAQP3dBZxWEGfsoorin8iKuENcgvDb1hUoHPaN3siGkptMgmQTTX0Lvj58rkPyEFwBlSpRgmdeO-KV5bqSb2tU81sDRtJyiwZDa9wZH3k73zfTAtvFH_W3NnVypDauZaNDWP83ZQGLCFfKFUFBxf/s400/Grandma%20Casey.jpg"/></a></div>nichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12406031304387961610noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13343388.post-28954279784154198622024-01-05T22:27:00.000-08:002024-01-05T22:27:42.529-08:00Of Gods and Reasons to PersevereNorse mythology is unique, filled with gods who were powerful, clever, daring, but also a little weird. Actually… a lot of weird.
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Other mythologies also had strong, brave, and intelligent gods. From India to Egypt to Greece, worshipers believed their dieties to be the most worthy of adoration because the gods would always be gods. There was no forever for the Norse gods though. The end of the gods was hardwired into the mythology.
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Ragnarok was coming. <br>
Their virtues didn’t matter. <br>
Odin’s wisdom would not be enough to avoid it. <br>
Thor’s strength would not be enough to stop it. <br>
Frigg’s compassion would not be enough to prevent it. <br>
Tyr’s bravery would not be enough to hold it back. <br>
Heimdallr’s heightened senses would not be enough to protect the other gods from it. <br>
Loki’s trickery would not be enough to change it. <br>
Idunn’s youth would not be enough to delay it. <br>
Forseti’s pursuit of peace and justice would not be enough to subdue it. <br>
Ragnarok would be their demise.
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There were no other alternatives. The Norse gods were destined to fall. They were imperfect and jealous of each other. They argued and held grudges. They won battles but also lost battles. Yet the Norse people honored them. They revered their doomed gods. They knew their gods would die and still remained devoted.
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In our modern world, I don’t know how many of us would stay hopelessly loyal to a guaranteed lost cause.
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Growing up in the Christian faith, I was raised to believe in a God who was omniscient, omnipotent, & omnipresent. Infinite knowledge, infinite power, and infinite presence. The God I was taught to worship was defined by love, compassion, justice, and mercy. This is the God of all gods, the one who spoke the world into existence, an unchanging being who would reign for eternity. Scripture assures the living God to be perfect and undefeated. However, scripture never promised perfection and success for mortals. We believe in a God who could intervene on our behalf, but the intervention is never a sure bet.
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We are flawed and broken. Stubborn and impudent. Greedy and vengeful. Human nature is host to the whole spectrum of good and evil, vice and virtue, success and failure.
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Norse peoples were promised gods who would fail. Christians are promised a God who would succeed. Meanwhile on earth, we are promised neither. Instead we are given a choice. Do we follow the bandwagon and hitch our hopes to the best chance of victory? Or do we follow what we believe to be right even if it ends in disaster? Success is never stipulated.
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Authors with a completed manuscript are not guaranteed a book deal. <br>
Scientists are not guaranteed their theories will be proven. <br>
Painters are not guaranteed their master work will ever be sold. <br>
Teachers are not guaranteed students who pay attention. <br>
Students are not guaranteed good grades. <br>
Police are not guaranteed they solve crimes. <br>
Criminals are not guaranteed they will evade arrest. <br>
Prosecutors are not guaranteed a favorable jury vote. <br>
Politicians are not guaranteed an electoral win. <br>
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Your religious faith, political leanings, gender, financial status, ethnicity, sexuality, physical ability, and social standings could help or (depending on the situation) hinder your chances but none of it guarantees anything. Failure is always possible.
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For a decade, I’ve been fighting a battle that often feels like an inevitable defeat. The way I’ve been treated, described, slandered, and maligned frequently casts me as the loser. It’s taken a serious toll on both my physical and mental health. Sometimes it seems the giant I face is too big to defeat and I’m fresh out of stones for my slingshot.
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Yet I trudge onward. I remain devoted. Why? Because it’s the right thing to do. Because the stakes are too severe for me to give up. If the Norse believed in Gods who were a bunch of losers, if first century Christians believed in a flawless God who could save them from persecution even if it never happened, I can hang on. If there is a chance of failure, no matter how probable, there is also a chance of victory.
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My hope isn’t in a promised destruction nor is it in perfect divine holiness. My hope is in the possibility of that which is never promised. I hope to win but realize I could lose. nichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12406031304387961610noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13343388.post-78996243428588621472023-12-08T12:57:00.000-08:002023-12-08T12:57:51.116-08:00Marvel’s Christmas Spectacular featuring ….Ever since Marvel Studios acquired the rights to all of 20th Century Fox’s properties, MCU fans have been speculating how the X-Men will be introduced. Are they new? Have they always been here? Are they from an alternate universe?
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Sure, Namor and Kamala Khan are both officially mutants which supports the ‘always been here’ theory. Scenes from Multiverse of Madness and The Marvels both feature mutants in other universes supporting the theory of alternate realities. Finally, there’s always a possibility of them being something new, created through experiments with the super soldier serum or gamma radiation. Rumors also suggest mutants will be brought into the MCU’s sacred timeline in next year’s Deadpool 3. But I have a suggestion.
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Looking at the history of MCU, there have been historical war stories (Captain America: The First Avenger), psychological thrillers (Iron Man 3), political spy action (Captain America: The Winter Soldier), heist movies (Ant-Man), psychedelic trips (Doctor Strange), Kung-fu tales (Shang-Chi and the Legend of the Ten Rings), space opera (Guardians of the Galaxy), and a melodrama (The Eternals). You know what’s missing? A Christmas movie. While there was the Guardian’s Christmas special, and Hawkeye was set during the holiday season, there isn’t a legit theatrically released Yuletide film.
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There is a way for Marvel Studios to introduce mutants and the X-Men in a Christmas movie and it all hinges on this guy.
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3na-3j-vmlwndjC1JadoelIhkHiig5mz2cIFe9oKqM6ILmnHb3voBkWtMy5HyW8_Ua6GZQp724SZxfFQbVMtHAs3NME1TPLSIlFi35MTLKcFmEw9TC3i40ORLe0qKQ6T2VZ6-4LBs0QEFhyphenhyphencpEOP_LfjKHA7L3uobQ-SMcusN3xTqbRPHUS72/s1400/buff%20Santa.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="700" data-original-width="1400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3na-3j-vmlwndjC1JadoelIhkHiig5mz2cIFe9oKqM6ILmnHb3voBkWtMy5HyW8_Ua6GZQp724SZxfFQbVMtHAs3NME1TPLSIlFi35MTLKcFmEw9TC3i40ORLe0qKQ6T2VZ6-4LBs0QEFhyphenhyphencpEOP_LfjKHA7L3uobQ-SMcusN3xTqbRPHUS72/s400/buff%20Santa.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><div style="text-align: center;">Image courtesy Marvel Comics</div></span><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>
Yes, Santa Claus. In the comics, Santa is an omega level mutant - quite possibly the most powerful of all mutantkind.
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDHQjTBL6bfcaoIGxdhI2ewx2A_Z23Cw_pmnhQB5sOgdY_HMmo6HGLEWr5wVsmnVdZ3HTMLplKoPrwV4DtiktVYHTDnthWa7hy7dAKonmdDKpVmg9kh3Naj9gRGjT68J-m6UN_pFsFTGbplsBW_AKaThE1hoS0DCscmEDzKuW_AF6eNWPigOMb/s1936/Marvel%27s%20Santa.JPG" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="1936" data-original-width="1936" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDHQjTBL6bfcaoIGxdhI2ewx2A_Z23Cw_pmnhQB5sOgdY_HMmo6HGLEWr5wVsmnVdZ3HTMLplKoPrwV4DtiktVYHTDnthWa7hy7dAKonmdDKpVmg9kh3Naj9gRGjT68J-m6UN_pFsFTGbplsBW_AKaThE1hoS0DCscmEDzKuW_AF6eNWPigOMb/s400/Marvel%27s%20Santa.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><div style="text-align: center;">Images courtesy Marvel Comics</div></span><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>
Just imagine the money to be made with a Santa centric movie becoming an official part of MCU cannon. What if it could tie in previous properties while setting up the future of Marvel’s cinematic universe? Here is what I propose.
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Begin in 1840’s London with an older man named Kristof entering a cathedral on Christmas Eve. After confession, he picks up a large red sack and walks to the orphanage to donate gifts to the kids. There he plays with kids of Norwegian, Egyptian, and Greek origins. The kids ask why he does what he does. He says “it’s to honor the memory of Saint Nikolas.” The Norwegian kid says Kris has the wisdom of Odin. The Egyptian kid says he has the determination of Khonshu. And the Greek kid says he has the compassion of Sersi. Kris asks if those are their gods When the kids confirm, Kris says “If you believe in them, then I believe in them too.”
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When he leaves the orphanage, he’s attacked by a dark elf, while other dark elves (from Thor 2) assault the orphanage in search of the portal to the hidden realm seeking the aether. Kris fights back but there are too many elves to take on alone. Inside the kids pray to their gods. Outside Odin (from Thor), and Sersi (from The Eternals), arrive along with Khonshu's current avatar (from Moon Knight). Together the four are able to defeat the elves.
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Unfortunately, Kris is wounded and dying. The gods thank Kris for his efforts. He explains it was done to honor St Nikolas. Sersi says “I knew Nikolas” and wishes to transform Kris into an icon worthy of Nikolas’s deeds. She gives him her empathy for humanity and her skill to manipulate matter through touch. Odin gives him his wisdom and regenerative powers. Khonshu gives him his strength and the ability to control time and space.
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Immediately his wounds heal and Kris feels younger. Sersi tells him he now has the power to bring joy to the whole world, not just the kids of one orphanage. Sersi says she can be found at the Tower Museum if Kris ever has questions. Odin leaves with his chariot pulled by the flying goats. Khonshu releases his avatar who has no clue how he got there. After they’re gone, Kris laughs about the goats and says “That gives me an idea.”
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To start his new life, Kris transports himself to Norway to find some reindeer. With a touch, he gives them power to fly. He then transforms a tree into an ornate sleigh. This begins a montage of Kris delivering presents around the world.
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One hundred years later, Kris goes by the name Santa. He lands with his reindeer in a Canadian logging camp and is caught by a man named Logan (the future Wolverine). When Logan shakes hands with Santa, Logan’s DNA is altered. Logan is unaware of the changes but Santa knows, it is the first time he’s used this power on another person. Santa tells Logan he might be needed some day.
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In Harvard dorm room during the 1980’s, Santa is discovered by a wheelchair bound college kid named Charles Xavier whose DNA is rewritten. Santa gives Charles the same message delivered to Logan. On the same trip he also meets a high school kid named Hank McCoy in Dundee Illinois, and elementary kids named Scott Summers in Anchorage Alaska and Jean Grey in New York. He does the same thing to them as Charles.
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In the 90s he finds a young Monica Rambeau (from Captain Marvel), a German child in Witzeldorf named Kurt Wagner, an African kid in Nairobi named Ororo, and a Russian kid in Siberia named Piotr Rasputin. In 2012, after the battle of Manhattan, he encounters teens across the USA: Kitty Pryde, Anna Marie, Alison Blaire, Remy LeBeau, and Jubilation Lee. Just before the blip, Santa travels to Tokyo Japan, the Scottish Highlands, Montreal Canada, and all over America where he meets Hisako Ichiki, Rahne Sinclair, Jean-Paul Beaubier, Emma Frost, siblings Paige and Sam Guthrie, Tyrone Johnson, Tandy Bowen, and Everett Thomas. Everyone who interacts with Santa gets their DNA changed and told they might be needed some day.
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Then the blip happens and Santa is dusted. Five years later Santa returns with Ironman’s snap and finds a world devastated without Santa Claus. Instead an inter-dimensional creature named Krampus has taken his place. Rather than bringing gifts to children, Krampus terrifies them, even kidnapping and enslaving kids during Santa’s absence. Santa challenges Krampus but Krampus kicks Santa’s ass. Santa spends the next year finding his team of reindeer and building up his strength.
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Santa also searches for the people he’s recruited over the last hundred years and discovers the multiple snaps from Infinity War and End Game activated latent powers given to them when he changed their DNA. He begs for their help. Most of them decline but others agree to fight Krampus and his army of Schnukies.
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The final battle begins on Christmas Eve. Charles Xavier uses his psychic powers to influence Krampus. Scott Summers fires optic blasts from his eyes and takes out several Schnukies. Jean Grey fights with telekinesis. Hank McCoy is blue and hairy and attacks the Schnukies with brutality. Logan is feral and rips his enemies apart with claws protruding from his fists. Hisako projects armor, Jubilation creates fireworks with her hands, and Rahne turns into a wolf.
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At the end of the fight, a victorious Santa manipulates time so he can begin his journey around the world to deliver presents before Christmas morning.
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Realizing they are not alone in possessing mutant powers Charles (now a professor), Hank, Scott, and Jean agree to establish a school for mutants to learn how to control their powers. They invited Logan to work with them but he says he’s rather be alone. Christmas morning, Santa uses the power Sersi gave him to transform a plot of land into a mansion which would become Professor Xavier’s school for gifted children. Xavier offers the younger mutants a place to live and they all accept. Santa and the newly formed X-Men share a holiday meal together where they promise to seek and assist all other mutants.
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The post credit scene returns to the 1840s. Kris is at a friend’s house for tea. He recounts his interactions with Odin, Sersi, and Khonshu. At the end he says “They were like three ghosts of Christmas.” His friend replies “A ghost of Christmas past, a ghost of Christmas present, and a ghost of Christmas future.” He adds “You gave me an idea for a wonderful story.” As Kris leaves, his friend calls him Kristof Kringle and Kris thanks Charles Dickens for his hospitality.
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Dear Disney, I’m available to join your writing team. Please hire me.
nichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12406031304387961610noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13343388.post-18881534709518626012023-10-20T12:06:00.000-07:002023-10-20T12:06:20.986-07:00On Special InterestsOne common symptom of autism is having an oddly specific area of interest. It’s not just the “I like football” or “my favorite class at school is history” kind of thing that everyone experiences. Nor is it the general list of hobbies possessed by both neurotypical and neurodivergent people. The autistic special interest takes the normal curiosities and pleasures of fascination and entertainment then ferociously consumes every trivial aspect of that thing.
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Everything in their world relates back to their special interest. Every conversation inevitably loops back to this thing because they know all there is to know about it. You might like that thing, but it is the most important thing to them. It borders obsession. Or as the National Autistic Society in the UK describes it: “intense and highly-focused interests.”
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Let’s say you (a typically functional human) enjoys hiking. If you’re invited to go on a hike, you’ll probably say yes. You might even research a couple different trails to see which one is more popular or is easier to access. Then pretend we have a neurospicy individual who enjoys hiking because it is their special interest. They know how long it takes to drive to every trailhead. They know the length and elevation gain of each trail, how many times you’ll have to cross a stream and the sturdiness of the bridges at each crossing, and the varied vistas to see along the way. The normalized interest in hiking and the interest in hiking with autism are not the same thing.
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As a late realized autistic, I’ve been reexamining my childhood through new lenses. Seeing myself as a kid with autism explains so many of my eccentricities and peculiar behavior. I was scripting before I even knew what scripting was. I had texture issues with clothes and food. I was sensory avoidant in almost everything except loud music and turbulent weather.
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As for the special interests, I was sure I had them but couldn’t remember what they were. Perhaps my parents could tell you. At least I didn’t remember until recently.
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Walking around with a colleague, we discussed how we remember the street names and business locations around downtown. I talked about the mental 3D map I’ve created like a holographic projection inside my cranium. This 3D map charts possible routes and detours between my current location in the space-time continuum and my destination. This is when it hit me. Maps were my special interest.
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjv0ntvHNZycgJzk3GIeK0d1DWdLeOFsTFEUgIWwzNbISrvfcLA76wz17e7pfao1VnlHmi5izromy7_5-RcyVty5GujQ6tvEy-AX-_OJGWOUk_XUgc0QtytBX7ZxkjqFbZH5OX5bTJv5C2NQ8ePWstfZG4bcKAJ3_E0EoLSs77wYswZzXAUwABw/s728/DowntownSpokane.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="410" data-original-width="728" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjv0ntvHNZycgJzk3GIeK0d1DWdLeOFsTFEUgIWwzNbISrvfcLA76wz17e7pfao1VnlHmi5izromy7_5-RcyVty5GujQ6tvEy-AX-_OJGWOUk_XUgc0QtytBX7ZxkjqFbZH5OX5bTJv5C2NQ8ePWstfZG4bcKAJ3_E0EoLSs77wYswZzXAUwABw/s400/DowntownSpokane.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><div style="text-align: center;">Image courtesy of Travel Safe</div></span><div><br /></div>
During my earliest memories, my dad sold windows and insulation from a small office in the Riverside neighborhood of Everett. His employer sent him to potential clients’ homes to measure the size of existing windows so he could provide accurate prices for replacements or sketch out the wall dimensions for quoting the cost of insulation.
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He frequently had me ride shotgun with him. He believed dragging me to work with him a better option than leaving me home alone. We both benefitted. I helped him hold the tape measure in place and he taught me to navigate maps.
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Not Apple Maps or Mapquest. Ever-present internet maps didn’t exist in 1983. He carried a spiral bound book showing the streets of Snohomish County, the kind that directed you to a different page when the road you travelled reached the edge of the current page. Eventually, he changed jobs and his sales territory grew. Soon the paper map collection grew to include Pierce, King, Skagit, and Island Counties. I continued to accompany him throughout my youth. Rand McNally books were sacred texts in the days before GPS navigation and I became a master navigator before I graduated elementary school.
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I never grew out of this phase. When I started hiking and climbing in the 90s, I became obsessed with the 100 Hikes books published by The Mountaineers. In addition to text description of the trails and photos of Washington’s alpine wilds, there were trail maps detailing every switchback through wooded, meadow, and rocky terrain. As a student, geography was the first class I passed with an A. As a reader, maps at the beginning of books elevate the story for me. From Tolkien’s Middle Earth to Stephen King’s Under the Dome, to Justin Cronin’s The Passage: maps bring me into these fictional worlds.
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6wHTr4OCw9zzZKXu_p53JqqC8zGWoPH3d-pJeYZP0Wb7eG_UIrW-_pHJBhao4BuR5Hr0plsLSGZj-qtuc9n-oadFrMu7D3tqAOpEGf_ccwNkhMOiilxZFl3w_nMyLxYVgpSINo0RAVmYCvkdKtAVw3bxkOqms-QJMcNf5lPFVwC3x3ZCU0tcG/s1726/underthedome.png" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="1276" data-original-width="1726" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6wHTr4OCw9zzZKXu_p53JqqC8zGWoPH3d-pJeYZP0Wb7eG_UIrW-_pHJBhao4BuR5Hr0plsLSGZj-qtuc9n-oadFrMu7D3tqAOpEGf_ccwNkhMOiilxZFl3w_nMyLxYVgpSINo0RAVmYCvkdKtAVw3bxkOqms-QJMcNf5lPFVwC3x3ZCU0tcG/s400/underthedome.png" width="400" /></a></div><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><div style="text-align: center;">Image courtesy of Stephen King and Scribner</div></span><br /><div>
As an adult, I’ll zoom in and out of various locations in Google Maps, virtually exploring locales I’ll probably never get to visit. My maps fascination helped me discover a swing in the middle of the jungle while we were in Waikiki. It’s my favorite tool when planning vacations, whether we’re doing a road trip to see family in Cheyenne, returning to my hometown of Marysville, or going to a place we’ve never been before. I used it to search for tattoo parlors in Norway, Costa Rica, and The Bahamas - the next big adventures we want to partake. I’ve used it to familiarize myself with the town of Paisley Scotland so I don’t get lost when I check visiting Paisley Abbey off my bucket list.
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During those early 80s days of carefree kidhood, there were two other special interests that tied into my love of maps. My younger self was obsessed with drawing mazes. This predated my fondness for maps though. To keep me quiet during church services, my parents supplied me with a pad of graph paper and a writing stick; by the time the sermon was over, the whole page was filled with geometrical doodles, branching pathways, and only one true route from start to finish. When I began reading maps, it was like seeking a path through the maze, only through the real world. Mazes were maps of mystery and puzzles. Road maps also contained mysteries, but fewer dead ends.
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhZRenAn2TJU4jG9yUW-fVgoC77t6J-4jJf79jxxJyj7YBlXF4_l7u-Y0m6doeP-D7Sp_10zQ1ygYavM7up2XP0J3z5GmvLNO1gum0kdlziNFmjfLFWBGNqVSXK9FAHHJJGihvoLuy5iyjp36P1uHkYbg04FB1w6572geydt75dR5OoPkyodn_/s1500/hedgemaze.webp" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="1500" data-original-width="1500" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhZRenAn2TJU4jG9yUW-fVgoC77t6J-4jJf79jxxJyj7YBlXF4_l7u-Y0m6doeP-D7Sp_10zQ1ygYavM7up2XP0J3z5GmvLNO1gum0kdlziNFmjfLFWBGNqVSXK9FAHHJJGihvoLuy5iyjp36P1uHkYbg04FB1w6572geydt75dR5OoPkyodn_/s400/hedgemaze.webp" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Image courtesy of Outside Magazine</span></div><br /></div><div>
My other autistic special interest also stemmed from my dad’s time selling windows and insulation: architecture. I helped him measure so many homes I became enamored with the way they were designed. Floor plans are basically maps of buildings. I began creating house designs in grade school on the same graph paper I once used for mazes. A decade later I was taking architectural drafting classes at MPHS. Up through my senior year, I had ambitions of a career as an architect. Even now I’ll occasionally have the urge to sketch out a rough blueprint of my dream home - a dream that is constantly evolving.
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Maps. Mazes. Masonry. Well, not masonry but the alliteration makes me happy. So my special interests are maps: geographical maps, fantasy maps, maps that are mazes, maps of buildings, maps like floor plans, and the mental maps existing only inside my head to help me navigate the world around me. It’s my autistic superpower.</div>nichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12406031304387961610noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13343388.post-70751063666229862232023-08-21T21:34:00.000-07:002023-08-21T21:34:00.540-07:00Our Region In Flames<div style="text-align: center;">I thought about fire burning in your eyes. I thought about fire. - Blindside</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaaG1cuACk7t_rn6t4HvetJzeIE1YadnYDkZqsUymYauYicS29l8HJgK0JA2rszxSGJwfcho1U4NzbO26BVP-UX9GCeduFEgTyMY0ntxBax8PBGx2ngkL_th1oI1CZ4bHITQQpZCCB1p6en-1dgSHW_8gzSReSTxOM0ZQ3t0VU7yh4YWdcNnv1/s3800/Fire%20burn%201.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="3800" data-original-width="2850" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaaG1cuACk7t_rn6t4HvetJzeIE1YadnYDkZqsUymYauYicS29l8HJgK0JA2rszxSGJwfcho1U4NzbO26BVP-UX9GCeduFEgTyMY0ntxBax8PBGx2ngkL_th1oI1CZ4bHITQQpZCCB1p6en-1dgSHW_8gzSReSTxOM0ZQ3t0VU7yh4YWdcNnv1/s400/Fire%20burn%201.jpg" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Image Courtesy Thoma Casey</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">How can we dance when the world is turning? How do we sleep while our beds are burning? - Midnight Oil</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZZ-Agzj0zeAp52qvHh8pwYAsouZbTGvJQOoC20MurbRwGkeCK3pDYE71yUX3sWi8CH-AlAH5UYB2iZwvAMBYwvVDey8gSRVcVAa0jP1FEACrjsgs58-jYCZabS_LSCiHBGMuYU11Vm-7ahj9xHJm7y7IwlaTs5uTxxwJKOstCbmIhfxfevRIe/s2046/Fire%20burn%202.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="925" data-original-width="2046" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZZ-Agzj0zeAp52qvHh8pwYAsouZbTGvJQOoC20MurbRwGkeCK3pDYE71yUX3sWi8CH-AlAH5UYB2iZwvAMBYwvVDey8gSRVcVAa0jP1FEACrjsgs58-jYCZabS_LSCiHBGMuYU11Vm-7ahj9xHJm7y7IwlaTs5uTxxwJKOstCbmIhfxfevRIe/s400/Fire%20burn%202.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Image courtesy Myk Crawford</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">We didn't start the fire. It was always burning, since the world's been turning. We didn't start the fire. No, we didn't light it but we tried to fight it. - Billy Joel</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEif7Ez8-39lWO8R0aIOO5A_0G5gQYo5B1Mstqv8q3QHEXkvIOa2AUYA4Y0flb8rdCOSubtcRbKBtcSV6WG76hFkne3WswwUchj1XzKtCKUadQaNmtKdDO44-inBUTz3W-xmbtzX4Lw9h8WqbgsjC4zQi8A6NvApmLmfCm6IeIjLkdW8dSHCWg3P/s900/Fire%20burn%203.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="506" data-original-width="900" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEif7Ez8-39lWO8R0aIOO5A_0G5gQYo5B1Mstqv8q3QHEXkvIOa2AUYA4Y0flb8rdCOSubtcRbKBtcSV6WG76hFkne3WswwUchj1XzKtCKUadQaNmtKdDO44-inBUTz3W-xmbtzX4Lw9h8WqbgsjC4zQi8A6NvApmLmfCm6IeIjLkdW8dSHCWg3P/s400/Fire%20burn%203.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Image courtesy WADOT</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Now I see fire inside the mountain, I see fire burning the trees, and I see fire howling souls. I see fire, blood in the trees, and I hope that you’ll remember me. - Ed Sheeran</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifvNGHpJ1ZkeaM_ge3ijSjZkTrRkbLDegIUZ3ads2ipvIPszOC83B845nkz7SIhGq-vMxUKByJoAAS2UUvfSvVnDO3COLRmXrkc0qp2nm0nu5XyONmxppH_nRYFG1dgVy_m4Yfp1NH6-DUlPtS-OOhKFW5miyhavvFPcnu7mFiC6jMjx94x3nJ/s1170/fire%20burn%204.JPG" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="780" data-original-width="1170" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifvNGHpJ1ZkeaM_ge3ijSjZkTrRkbLDegIUZ3ads2ipvIPszOC83B845nkz7SIhGq-vMxUKByJoAAS2UUvfSvVnDO3COLRmXrkc0qp2nm0nu5XyONmxppH_nRYFG1dgVy_m4Yfp1NH6-DUlPtS-OOhKFW5miyhavvFPcnu7mFiC6jMjx94x3nJ/s400/fire%20burn%204.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Image courtesy Greg Halling</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">I’ve seen fire and I’ve seen rain. I’ve seen sunny days that I thought would never end. I’ve seen lonely times when I could not find a friend. - James Taylor</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHCZBXb4d9s7-2dsHHe1_LjtgNeQuHPLCjyPEeJDz_lSHBZwJUmea0UGgRdAh1H2a6afQTObd2Pz8UGUG8T7pgT1IzuvZLiM6qmeMCiwdpRQy4707Nj2GOWBk6H-iCCsDYEXSFD4ilPIgGifmCUkYU4bifQmpw-fMgOPQy8IC5JQ3Glm_Zvfd4/s2011/Fire%20burn%205.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="1508" data-original-width="2011" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHCZBXb4d9s7-2dsHHe1_LjtgNeQuHPLCjyPEeJDz_lSHBZwJUmea0UGgRdAh1H2a6afQTObd2Pz8UGUG8T7pgT1IzuvZLiM6qmeMCiwdpRQy4707Nj2GOWBk6H-iCCsDYEXSFD4ilPIgGifmCUkYU4bifQmpw-fMgOPQy8IC5JQ3Glm_Zvfd4/s400/Fire%20burn%205.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Image courtesy Tom Burgess</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Death is on the top of her tongue and danger’s on the tip of her fingers. Streets are on fire tonight. - Lupe Fiasco</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFPLpUoj9ShE6ckLToU7TQgP-HkV9t3LujQumOqAbH2xt_r7XkfZKg8wO1pyL5H2u-93A2CFOf9df_4XJD2L5hxFybhzv71dzyOOvHnCL76KK4J1-VRGM-pv5dpx_SlilT0SJaGvH854YYF01MlOY5By6Vc6qoRYf6hflFYT7aXBaWVsTwSomR/s300/fire%20burn%206.JPG" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="268" data-original-width="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFPLpUoj9ShE6ckLToU7TQgP-HkV9t3LujQumOqAbH2xt_r7XkfZKg8wO1pyL5H2u-93A2CFOf9df_4XJD2L5hxFybhzv71dzyOOvHnCL76KK4J1-VRGM-pv5dpx_SlilT0SJaGvH854YYF01MlOY5By6Vc6qoRYf6hflFYT7aXBaWVsTwSomR/s320/fire%20burn%206.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Image courtesy WADOT</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Things we lost to the flames, things we’ll never see again. All that we’ve amassed sit before us shattered into ash. - Bastille</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCSaETU4Kww8Qlr687XqcEat8VQc1WjbnOZMhd4vG7_WFvjhBbPDzlmWMcU16jQdEiFsItWDQV9XMiEs8EtQv1BEOvrYM0b3godjMGTYUZMnEglUh_TaaUOXUfvy94eSO8Yf4ljX5_DjqP_nm-3zXMyvoJR5T32eb-6DmEPZ2kYdPEAGrAyO2B/s960/fire%20burn%207.JPG" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="960" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCSaETU4Kww8Qlr687XqcEat8VQc1WjbnOZMhd4vG7_WFvjhBbPDzlmWMcU16jQdEiFsItWDQV9XMiEs8EtQv1BEOvrYM0b3godjMGTYUZMnEglUh_TaaUOXUfvy94eSO8Yf4ljX5_DjqP_nm-3zXMyvoJR5T32eb-6DmEPZ2kYdPEAGrAyO2B/s400/fire%20burn%207.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Image courtesy Zack Zappone</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Liar, liar, the world's on fire. What you gonna do when it all burns down? - Dolly Parton</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiL7MyHe0W8AA2-DgI8oenlRWnMpwv9sIPk3fvZ9uDP5dwu4Y9pYAg7ixDkHwh41VHyYRjsue6R1mLrV8he8lcIsyMnlHsXZA2dLgbEPl2vvTrZeDSY8AmHuPT7bu8UYpfy0IXG-2JKG_kJtnfMSXWr5kY-_tYeMEaPMR7GD2jWX15KYc6BNXnq/s2048/fire%20burn%208.JPG" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="1598" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiL7MyHe0W8AA2-DgI8oenlRWnMpwv9sIPk3fvZ9uDP5dwu4Y9pYAg7ixDkHwh41VHyYRjsue6R1mLrV8he8lcIsyMnlHsXZA2dLgbEPl2vvTrZeDSY8AmHuPT7bu8UYpfy0IXG-2JKG_kJtnfMSXWr5kY-_tYeMEaPMR7GD2jWX15KYc6BNXnq/s400/fire%20burn%208.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Image courtesy Erik Smith</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">We’ve built our confidence on wasteland. We’ve seen how the walls come down. Life burns. - Apocalyptica</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpUP6EUdm4CIgVdTnmzqM9hDps4NZ18dhXbW4PxoO6I8Q6xEDp5OPDzw16ieUJopVAcqEk1XnXdHekDT-TUsSP73fzDglqWFEKX2kCss8J9BeeVVPWq5m0W3mPZI_fTeU6Th3sp238qLBmlCW1O1hgTNtQP5olJGqc2yCKr1Ocy2h_KwDNfYDa/s2048/fire%20burn%209.JPG" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1538" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpUP6EUdm4CIgVdTnmzqM9hDps4NZ18dhXbW4PxoO6I8Q6xEDp5OPDzw16ieUJopVAcqEk1XnXdHekDT-TUsSP73fzDglqWFEKX2kCss8J9BeeVVPWq5m0W3mPZI_fTeU6Th3sp238qLBmlCW1O1hgTNtQP5olJGqc2yCKr1Ocy2h_KwDNfYDa/s400/fire%20burn%209.JPG" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Image courtesy Brian Jacob</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Sleep now in the fire. - Rage Against the Machine</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizDjeqfvS8r9LMa41lMm6fXsNRo0SzSzIsO1DdTtQmvNUAc_KWrjdkwV90TgJkWUevPPMju0IcqDin-lgMbuUsjiMTtQQPiv3dkCzDWaRhrt2hJCa0hHsrY4ns5A5w9QrDTyNHxvMgN-8bpvtplQjDV1N8pzU1j992VRiA4RPv54L5HKkPLs85/s1200/fire%20burn%2010.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="1200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizDjeqfvS8r9LMa41lMm6fXsNRo0SzSzIsO1DdTtQmvNUAc_KWrjdkwV90TgJkWUevPPMju0IcqDin-lgMbuUsjiMTtQQPiv3dkCzDWaRhrt2hJCa0hHsrY4ns5A5w9QrDTyNHxvMgN-8bpvtplQjDV1N8pzU1j992VRiA4RPv54L5HKkPLs85/s400/fire%20burn%2010.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Image courtesy Colin Mulvany @ SR</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><hr /><br /><div>
There are three major fires burning around us. To our east, Ridge Creek above Hayden Lake has burned 4100 acres. North of us, Oregon Road in Elk has burned 10,000 acres. Finally, the Gray fire west of us in Medical Lake has also burned 10,000 acres. There are two known deaths and hundreds of homes and businesses destroyed. The Spokane region is devistated and funds are being raised by the American Red Cross, Salvation Army, Giving Back Spokane, and No-Li Brewhouse. We also have family direclty impacted who had to evacuate including the grandparents in Medical Lake who host all of our holiday gatherings. If you think of us, please pray for rain.</div>nichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12406031304387961610noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13343388.post-51476145417876531272023-08-08T21:19:00.000-07:002023-08-08T21:19:41.483-07:00Happiness is a Warm IdolMy evangelical upbringing might have overemphasized the value of being happy. By might be, I mean they definitely did overemphasize it. The simple message was reiterated from childhood Sunday School classes through Wednesday night youth group, summer camps and weekend retreats, college ministries and revival services. It rarely changed: just give your heart to Jesus and you’ll be happy.
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Even as a kid, I knew this claim was bull shit. The idea that Christian conversion was the key to happiness ignores how bad things can happen to anyone regardless of their religious beliefs. My non-Christian friends found ways to be happy without Jesus. The Venn diagram of things my church taught me and things God never said is a near perfect circle with the tenet of happiness being the ultimate goal being dead center. It is not one of the Ten Commandments but they treated it as if it was law.
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOKYhHZNCnYK1wdWQiqbKwYc-FujA-fgjFEGaQsaQ8a5Iwlkg4CBvdjWee799uRfaYxWiHTAhwpOApCs-8Gqh8qSlvZt3bBlSJsn2qdxtFRllyqVVHqAKtVDF2KM7gBhLsWuJewkeQ0LklmPAyGVEgSkJzzobxMXN0zjvns2ZAxHBzmu4a4Ur3/s686/happy.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; "><img alt="" border="0" width="400" data-original-height="488" data-original-width="686" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOKYhHZNCnYK1wdWQiqbKwYc-FujA-fgjFEGaQsaQ8a5Iwlkg4CBvdjWee799uRfaYxWiHTAhwpOApCs-8Gqh8qSlvZt3bBlSJsn2qdxtFRllyqVVHqAKtVDF2KM7gBhLsWuJewkeQ0LklmPAyGVEgSkJzzobxMXN0zjvns2ZAxHBzmu4a4Ur3/s400/happy.jpg"/></a></div>
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As an individual with a melancholic disposition, on the autism spectrum, battling lifelong struggles with depression and anxiety, I have never had a comfortable relationship with the evangelical elevation of happiness. I was taught (and frequently reminded) any expression of sadness or anger was a display of sin. This only exacerbated my mental health issues and threadbare self-esteem.
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Biblical study revealed nothing to support this twisted gospel. It has no historical practice in Christian tradition prior to modern evangelicalism and it has zero scriptural support. Variations of the word happy only appear 10 times in the ESV Bible, but joyful and its variants show up more than 400 times. Joy is a concept I appreciate because joy and sorrow can coexist. Even in my darkest days, I can find ways to dance with joy. Happiness though, it takes effort.
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Don’t get me wrong, I am able to be happy if I try hard enough. I can even fake being happy at times. However, happiness is not a natural state of being. To be happy requires an emotionally draining level of concentration. If I lose my focus, I might not look or sound happy, even if I am. It’s exhausting. Your legs will feel tired after spending three hours running on a treadmill. An intense basketball game will leave players wheezing and drenched with sweat. Even the most well trained athletes experience fatigue after completing an Ironman triathlon. In a similar way, I feel happiness fatigue after making the effort to appear happy for sustained periods of time.
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Does that mean I’m a grumpy asshole? No. Well, sometimes. Does it mean I want to be a grumpy asshole? Absolutely not. At the same time, I don’t want to worship at the altar of happiness. I have no desire to drown in a sea of empty platitudes. I want the church to be honest with the reality that happiness is fleeting, that Christians do not have exclusive rights to happiness, that loving God does not shield anyone from broken hearts and wounded spirits.
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Happiness is nice but it’s not a virtue. Happiness is not godliness. Happiness is not God. I’m not always happy, yet I can still find joy in my unhappiness.
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With all this in consideration something different happened today. This morning, while walking into work, I felt genuinely happy without purpose or intention. No mental or emotional strain, no faking it or intense focus required. Just natural endorphins firing through the proper synapses the way it should in a neurotypical brain. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt this sort of bliss. So I smiled and accepted it for what it was: I am happy.
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At least for now. I will savor my unprovoked happy until it fades, but I won’t cling to it. It was never meant to last. While some have bestowed happiness with demigod status, I refuse to bow to false idols.
nichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12406031304387961610noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13343388.post-52688490894762998252023-06-09T10:26:00.001-07:002023-06-09T10:26:39.371-07:00Uneducated GeniusMy wife overheard our 14 year old’s half of a phone conversation with one of his friends. JJ was attempting to explain my level of nerdiness by saying “he writes school papers for fun.” While I’ve never thought of things from that perspective, it’s a fairly accurate depiction of my blogging. Each individual post could be an essay, some sort of self-imposed homework, as if I’ve been composing term papers over and over for nearly two decades.
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The irony of my son’s description of me is how I was a terrible student. I was that kid who avoided homework but still managed to get high test scores. I was flunking daily work but an honor roll student in exams. My four attempts at post-secondary education were all hindered by a lack of money or a lack of time. If you complied all my credits together, I’d still be considered a college freshman.
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Looking through my professional career it’s amazing how much I’ve accomplished without a bachelor’s degree, but it’s also easy to see how many opportunities I’ve missed for the same reason. I’ve had promotions given to less qualified people because they had college degrees. I’ve also been given responsibilities and job titles typically reserved for people who graduated with some sort of tech school or trade certification.
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When I was in second grade, I scored high enough on IQ testing administered by my school to be considered one of the smartest kids in the district and entered an enhanced class for the future MENSA members of Marysville once a week. In fifth grade, I was falling behind in math, so they sent me into special education for an hour every day. Teachers didn’t know how to handle me. I was the first student in the history of the Marysville School District to be simultaneously enrolled in accelerated and remedial classes. At 18, I got my diploma with a GPA that placed me close to halfway between the worst and best students in my graduating class. As for college, it was the illogical logic of economics that broke me and ended my educational career.
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I didn’t stop learning though. Even with no grades or deadlines compelling me, I still indulged in research. I educated myself as acts of entertainment and self preservation. I completed classes in Ancient Greek translation and comic book composition. I studied psychology, philosophy, religion, government, history, mythology, cryptozoology, geography, and a wide range of sciences from astronomy, to biochemistry, to quantum mechanics - all because I wanted to. I’ve read peer reviewed academic papers for fun. I’ve helped friends pass their college English and communication classes. My google history includes searches for the most flammable alcohols available in medieval times, the effects of sensory deprivation, string theory, a list of bodies found in peat bogs, and various other inquiries dooming me to an inevitable invitation to an NSA watchlist. I excel at both trivia and improv comedy. I’m a DJ, a farmer, and a licensed minister. I’ve even written a novel.
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Sadly, the accumulation of my accomplishments mean absolutely nothing to corporate recruiters, hiring managers, and prospective employers. As for as they’re concerned, I’m the smartest idiot you’ll ever meet.
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_2Y0U5vItHH-lQ109lDkXizFnwN3iOg8Ii8NbUW3M6LUp0RvCa7mezqgs2kSW6SMnsldQ2q6rWhOv4yUB89we2ZQ0EWMp05tuzuHVU0Tvt-_71k6zl_SuRBUjkyoho-8dkcijhgdDh_d8DDSjNSD7yL8pisPyge45R2A5Kw4kOPWpEXC_VQ/s583/coffee%20sloth.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; "><img alt="" border="0" width="400" data-original-height="490" data-original-width="583" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_2Y0U5vItHH-lQ109lDkXizFnwN3iOg8Ii8NbUW3M6LUp0RvCa7mezqgs2kSW6SMnsldQ2q6rWhOv4yUB89we2ZQ0EWMp05tuzuHVU0Tvt-_71k6zl_SuRBUjkyoho-8dkcijhgdDh_d8DDSjNSD7yL8pisPyge45R2A5Kw4kOPWpEXC_VQ/s400/coffee%20sloth.jpg"/></a></div>
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If you ever wondered what happened to gifted youngsters when they grew up, it’s me. I’m what happened to all of those brilliant young minds with unlimited potential. We grew up to be unremarkable middle aged burnouts with acute anxiety, undiagnosed ADHD, and prescriptions for depression and hypertension. We’ve forgotten our childhood dreams while encouraging our kids to aim for the stars. We never became better than this because we were constantly told we’re better than this. With countless possibilities in front of us, we ended up with none of the above. We’ve pondered the existence of an infinite number of universes where we became something incredible in all of them except this one. We’re not unhappy with the life we live, but it often seems the life we live is unhappy with us.
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Autism has been a double edge sword for me. It is the reason I was a gifted child. It made me smarter than most, but it also made it difficult to keep up with my peers. It made me a bright young man who needed to apply myself more. It made me sociable while failing to understand social rules. It made me a polymath with such varied interests I could relate to almost anyone but also made me awkward with difficulties maintaining a conversation. It helped me know a little about everything but not everything about anything. I’ve learned enough about such a wide variety of different topics, I could easily complete a senior thesis in several fields of study. I am a jack of all majors but a masters degree of none.
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This is who I am: a person who writes school stuff for fun. I am an uneducated genius. At least my teenaged son thinks I’m smart but in a nerdy way.
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More to read:
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<a href="https://nicholasccasey.blogspot.com/2017/04/the-school-experience.html" target="_blank">My experience as a student</a>
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<a href="https://nicholasccasey.blogspot.com/2017/03/a-peculiar-learner.html" target="_blank">I was a peculiar kid</a>
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<a href="https://nicholasccasey.blogspot.com/2018/02/presidential-dreams.html" target="_blank">Dreams of another gifted child</a>
<br>nichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12406031304387961610noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13343388.post-62484716927721600412023-05-22T20:20:00.000-07:002023-05-22T20:20:43.231-07:00A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to Writing a NovelHero was in love with the girl next door. Unfortunately, she was courtesan pledged to be married to a famous soldier who was on his way home from war to claim his new bride. Not all is hopeless for romance; Hero’s family has a slave named Pseudolus who will do anything to earn his freedom and he’s willing to lie or cheat to get it. Pseudolus sees this star-crossed lust as his chance to escape slavery.
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The two boys hatch a plan. Pseudolus will help Hero get the girl of his dreams. In exchange, Hero will grant Pseudolus the freedom for which he yearns. The scheme is complicated and does not turn out the way they hoped. High jinks, and supposedly comedy ensue.
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This is the gist of the 1966 movie, “A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum.” I was a kid the first time I watched it: junior high aged, perhaps younger. At the time, it was the weirdest film I had ever seen. My undeveloped brain struggled to follow the quick dialog and musical numbers. I failed to see the humor or purpose of the elements of slapstick and farce. I was unable to understand the satirical social commentary. I was soured by the 60s sounding score and the dated Romanesque costumes. “A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum” is not a kids movie and I was far too young to enjoy it.
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4M-XclT6XmQHxBwQhOukGhFPSImywIzpt1GPTnoGiuLKHpka26QCHFSN3xsbV_CgODSQgZyFXfnt0Mt3dTmWLBzVBmli6E2kQ7A9CEyB2hCEAnxGC6wxSVQZ1g_DIE8aUbDDbBh5pI5b3uiurIrCtNRMqFTHkWHBaPTS80Cm2OQKQeSRUTw/s856/afunnything.JPG" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="482" data-original-width="856" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4M-XclT6XmQHxBwQhOukGhFPSImywIzpt1GPTnoGiuLKHpka26QCHFSN3xsbV_CgODSQgZyFXfnt0Mt3dTmWLBzVBmli6E2kQ7A9CEyB2hCEAnxGC6wxSVQZ1g_DIE8aUbDDbBh5pI5b3uiurIrCtNRMqFTHkWHBaPTS80Cm2OQKQeSRUTw/s400/afunnything.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><div style="text-align: center;">courtesy of UA/MGM</div></span><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>
Now older and more appreciative of movie history I’ve grown into a connoisseur of a wider variety of film styles. I’m no longer appalled by the shenanigans of Pseudolus and Hero in their quests for freedom and love. Upon review, I’ve found myself relating to the slave Pseudolus. I’m not the liar and cheater like the movie character but I understand his motives. Playing matchmaker for Hero and Philia was his one opportunity to seize everything he ever wanted. He saw this as his one shot and was not going to miss his chance to blow because this opportunity comes once in a lifetime.
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That makes sense to me.
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Pseudolus was a slave to Hero’s parents and he wanted a new and better life. I’m also a slave to our modern world: a nine to five job, child support payments, a mortgage, grocery coupons, rebellious teenagers, and a limited budget. For nearly a dozen years I’ve felt like writing was the only available ticket to my new and better life. If my outlook was dismal, I would write my way out. I don’t have any star-crossed friends who want to be lovers in need of my help, but I did write a book. Sometimes it feels like my one shot, one opportunity. If I can’t turn my authorship into a career, there is no plan B. Like Eminem said, Success is my only mother(expletive) option.
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_-X7FAz81QkMa-f0F73JtNphnihWRt3N6DjpClbT4vB4ewx4awTIN-Kbb2VoM9LpKlAmHhHfyWcBlqaX0gLNM_XYFKL3TVTjz9cg9oB270m-vCa4g85Gnz9W-RBILo4FisZ6P7sju9GLEoj7xZGW1wR4XHE43VfhRjW2AIEdMR2IBKCb02Q/s1280/8mile.JPG" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="853" data-original-width="1280" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_-X7FAz81QkMa-f0F73JtNphnihWRt3N6DjpClbT4vB4ewx4awTIN-Kbb2VoM9LpKlAmHhHfyWcBlqaX0gLNM_XYFKL3TVTjz9cg9oB270m-vCa4g85Gnz9W-RBILo4FisZ6P7sju9GLEoj7xZGW1wR4XHE43VfhRjW2AIEdMR2IBKCb02Q/s400/8mile.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><div style="text-align: center;">courtesy of Universal Pictures</div></span><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>
Like Pseudolus and his ill advised trip to the forum, a funny thing happened to me on the way to writing a novel. Several years ago, when blogging was still the next big thing, a friend of mine got a two book publishing contract with one of the big five. I was excited for her, along with our little blogging network. After the debut of her first novel, she started blogging less and eventually stopped updating her blog. It’s been over a decade since she’s posted anything on her blog. I understand why she did what she did so I’m not holding any grudges. At the same time, I swore I would not fall to the same fate when I wrote my first book. But here we are. Ever since I started working on “Kingdom of Odd,” my blogging output has dwindled.
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Now is my time to hustle, edit and refine, and dive headfirst into the world of shameless self promotion. Keyboard fail me not this may be the only opportunity that I got.
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More to read:
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<a href="https://nicholasccasey.blogspot.com/2019/08/that-one-time-i-ruined-eminem-song.html" target="_blank">Me and that Eminem song</a>
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<a href="https://nicholasccasey.blogspot.com/2017/03/evolution-of-writer.html" target="_blank">Why I write</a>
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<a href="https://nicholasccasey.blogspot.com/2021/02/a-writers-justice.html" target="_blank">My novel in process</a>nichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12406031304387961610noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13343388.post-43129170665506524542023-05-16T08:11:00.001-07:002023-05-16T09:11:25.475-07:00Be WeirdDo you remember the first time you realized you were weird? I do.
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It happened during the 1983/84 school year and I was four years old. My best friend in preschool was a kid named Marcus. While I thought I was friends with all of the kids in our class, Marcus was the only one who really treated me like I was his friend.
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Show and tell was always a highlight - being able to see all the cool stuff other students brought. Their swag was always so much cooler than anything I had to share. Marcus proved it one week when he brought in the Millennium Falcon play-set. It was the big one that opened up and had space to stand action figures inside. It was so large he had to carry it with two hands.
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3NThjK_EwuUKPJCyLLrdzYWBHJtpoEynSw2dl6WNDp77218SX5wl7FISQerZ6e_Hm3py0VYeRAnAjZWA_BAUTUZbvhCbCyMAG3E5fUUTQ5lZfhbyNbF0xaLj8oBpbZN9ePuft-bMe0NvrMpzGWoWaU9o8pp1IEQj1IAxqJwId7FyhbUDTeg/s450/millennium%20falcon.JPG" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="270" data-original-width="450" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3NThjK_EwuUKPJCyLLrdzYWBHJtpoEynSw2dl6WNDp77218SX5wl7FISQerZ6e_Hm3py0VYeRAnAjZWA_BAUTUZbvhCbCyMAG3E5fUUTQ5lZfhbyNbF0xaLj8oBpbZN9ePuft-bMe0NvrMpzGWoWaU9o8pp1IEQj1IAxqJwId7FyhbUDTeg/s400/millennium%20falcon.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><div style="text-align: center;">photo courtesy Kenner</div></span><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>
<br />My mom and aunts took me to the theater for a Return of the Jedi showing the previous summer and I thought it was the best movie ever. I was obsessed with Wookiees, Ewoks, Sarlaccs, and Kowakian monkey-lizards (Salacious B. Crumb was my favorite character).
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The most exciting Star Wars toy I owned was a speeder bike that exploded into four pieces when you pushed a button behind the seat. Then my best friend walked into our classroom with the most epic toy my young brain could have imagined. I was legitimately jealous. When it was his turn for show and tell that day, I spoke the word that Keanu popularized a decade and a half later. “Whoa.”
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Was it really that awesome though? I thought so. And Marcus was proud of it. Unfortunatly, we were the only two students who had positive feelings about the Millennium Falcon. The other kids in our class were unimpressed. When our teachers asked if anyone had questions for Marcus, I was the only student to raise a hand. No one else cared. I watched Marcus deflate, his pride slowly evaporated.
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These days, the same toy now sells for anywhere between $300 and $400. In hindsight, Marcus and I knew something about the magic of a galaxy from a long time ago and far far away. We were ahead of our time. Or rather, we were geeks out of place. Return of the Jedi might have been the most popular movie of 1983, but in our conservative evangelical ran preschool in our corner of suburbia, being a Star Wars fan made you a weirdo.
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Marcus’ anticlimactic moment in the show and tell spotlight was the first time I realized I was weird. All our peers disapproved of his special interest except me. If he was weird for what he liked, then I was weird too.
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Countless interactions with my church peers throughout my childhood and adolescence reconfirmed my oddities. I was the short kid, uncoordinated, and the last one picked in all of our competitive games. I was the theater geek, the quirky and socially awkward kid, the only one in church who read comic books. I was the lone fan of science fiction, fantasy, and horror. I was never elected into the leadership team even though I was one of the few kids who showed up to every event, entered every talent show, played every puding-through-the-nose game, attended every camp and retreat, and participated in every work and witness trip. By the time I graduated high school my role of the outcast was clear, I would never be a part of that inner circle.
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Marcus was still around, as weird as always. But he was at peace with his weirdness. He found a way to lean into it and embrace it. He knew the cool kids in our youth group would never accept him, and he didn’t care. He and I walked away with his preschool show and tell defeat with different lessons. He was determined to never let the opinions of our church peers bother him again, while I desperately and fruitlessly sought their approval. It would take me another two decades to find the happiness in weirdness Marcus developed as a teenager.
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Grandpa Budd’s funeral was last week. I watched online as Grandpa’s friends and my family entered with a pizazz rarely observed at such somber events. Many wore red clown noses, track suits were abundant, a few people walked into the sanctuary on stilts, and nearly everyone wore bright colors. After the funeral, they held a party with calisthenics and dancing. In the atmosphere of grief and loss, the room was filled with joy and energy. That’s the way Grandpa desired it. He wanted his family to be as loud and as fun as he was.
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This is the side of my family who treated me to my first movie theater experience to see Return of the Jedi. This is the side of the family who taught me to enjoy Batman, Star Wars, Lord of the Rings, and The Matrix - but also "normal" things like travel and volleyball. Grandpa was an athlete and educator with an irrepressible thirst for knowledge and a goofy sense of humor. He gave me my passion for continuous learning and my insatiable wanderlust. He also gifted our whole family the freedom to be weird. Or as my cousin Wendy said, <span style="color: red;">“Thanks Grandpa for being a total weirdo and ensuring that your family followed suit.”
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL3sb8-HaEYO6yu6z2PclTwGAL-1HElY6rEPwzw8INnEWEpvQ_6_ZMec3BVvdVJkUg7r3j-EPW7gfSqqoLMCBeOI_1iL-SU3eYPOw3ov2tvavAtNP9c1969kSZv-K8aEMSrqyeVbfyeCDcdYFI3juiwGqteLW8wE825hzaaR8Y_NGj9zjTbg/s1455/red%20nose%20wendy.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="1455" data-original-width="1170" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL3sb8-HaEYO6yu6z2PclTwGAL-1HElY6rEPwzw8INnEWEpvQ_6_ZMec3BVvdVJkUg7r3j-EPW7gfSqqoLMCBeOI_1iL-SU3eYPOw3ov2tvavAtNP9c1969kSZv-K8aEMSrqyeVbfyeCDcdYFI3juiwGqteLW8wE825hzaaR8Y_NGj9zjTbg/s400/red%20nose%20wendy.jpg" /></a></div><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><div style="text-align: center;">photo courtesy my cousin Wendy</div></span><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>
<br />My life has been so much better since I learned the skills my friend Marcus and my Grandpa Budd had already mastered. Weirdness is an asset. My family has always been weird and it took me far too long to appreciate it. I’ve always been weird and I wish I gave myself permission to enjoy it sooner.
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Be weird. It’s a beautiful thing to embrace your weirdness. If I have one mission in life, it’s to live out my God-given weirdo personality to help others find joy and peace in their own weirdish ways. To help you live weird.
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More to read:
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<a href="https://nicholasccasey.blogspot.com/2012/10/church-vs-art-part-4-in-land-of-double.html" target="_blank">Marcus and Black Hole Sun</a>
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<a href="https://nicholasccasey.blogspot.com/2017/01/glass-cutters.html" target="_blank">Marcus and cold weather</a>
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<a href="https://nicholasccasey.blogspot.com/2013/11/good-night-grandma-rest-well.html" target="_blank">Remebering Grandma Budd</a>nichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12406031304387961610noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13343388.post-37353659626075335912023-04-07T19:04:00.004-07:002023-04-07T19:04:28.337-07:00Can’t Take You SeriouslyWhen I was growing up, I was taught by parents, teachers, and pastors how honesty was one of the most worthy virtues a person can possess. You’re only as good as your word. Politically speaking, I was raised to believe Democrats were all liars but Republicans were honest. Then as a teenager, watching the news of Clinton’s affair was supposed to cement my belief in the fundamental dishonesty hardwired into the Democrat party.
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As an adult, I know better. I now know there are more deceitful politicians than there are trustworthy politicians. Regardless of political party, people lie to get elected. Or, at best, they make promises they can’t keep. Once in office, they will manipulate facts to fit their agenda and take credit for achievements they originally opposed to make themselves look better. I have seen this happen time and time again, from Republicans, Democrats, Libertarians, and others.
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If the last seven years have taught me anything, the bombardment of political lies (or as one once said … “alternative facts”), one party has turned dishonesty into an art form. The abundance of deceitfulness has become weighted heavier toward the party of so-called honesty. At this point, it’s out of control. To demonstrate what I mean, you should watch this. Actually, you only need to watch the first 29 seconds. The rest of it is biased punditry.
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<iframe width="480" height="270" src="https://youtube.com/embed/4JB_3z9EzDQ" frameborder="0"></iframe>
<br><br>How do people like this get elected? How do her constituents take her seriously? How does anybody take her seriously? How am I supposed to trust the opinions of anyone who supports her? While I realize Marjorie Taylor Greene does not represent every conservative I know, she is influential within the GOP.
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That said, let’s look at her claims from this very short statement.
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1. When she was in 11th grade, Joe Biden made schools gun free zones.
2. A student brought guns to her school after her school was made a gun-free zone by Joe Biden.
3. There was no good guy with a gun to protect them and there should be armed personnel in schools to prevent stuff like this.
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Great. Is there any truth to her statement?
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In the fall of 1990, MTG was a junior at South Forsyth High School. On September 7th, a gunman entered the school with a pistol, shotgun, and a rifle. In other speeches, she’s said that this was one of the scariest days of her life which is understandable. There was a law passed in 1990 to make schools gun free zones so she seems to be talking about things that actually happened. But is she?
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Who was the president when this happened? George HW Bush. Who signed the Gun-Free School Zones Act of 1990 into law? George HW Bush. Who introduced the bill in the Senate? Senator Kohl, a democrat from Wisconsin. Was this a liberal attack on the second amendment? It passed the house with strong bipartisan support 313 to one and was signed by a conservative president. Did Joe Biden make it happen? Well, he was a senator at the time so it’s likely he voted in favor of it but that’s about the extent of his involvement.
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There’s more though. The Gun-Free School Zones Act of 1990 was signed into law on November 29th 1990 - almost three months after a gunman held students hostage at MTG’s school. Her school wasn’t a gun-free zone when the gunman entered her campus. If there weren’t any good guys with a gun present, that would have been due to her school district’s policies, not due to federal law.
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There’s still more. How did the incident in her school end? No one was injured. No one was killed. Who stopped the bad guy with a gun? An unarmed good Guy. A teacher risked their own life, physically taking the rifle out of the gunman’s hands. Without the rifle, the handgun used to hold other students hostage and even then it wasn’t a good guy with a gun to end the crisis. The ordeal ended because the bad guy with a gun lacked stamina, he turned himself in after feeling dizzy.
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Let’s re-examine her claims.
1. Joe Biden did not make schools gun free zones when MTG was in 11th grade.
2. There was a gun related incident at her school before schools were made gun-free zones, not after.
3. A good guy with a gun wasn’t needed to protect the other kids at her school.
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In less than 20 second of talking, she spouted off a demonstrably false statement. Anyone with basic google search skills can look up the facts of her claim and realize the speech flowing from her mouth is a word salad of horse shit.
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This is why I can’t take the GOP seriously. This is worse than the “all politicians lie” trope. If you’re going to make up your own facts, at least make it believable. If you’re going to be a lying liar who tells lies, pick a story that isn’t so easily disproven. The modern GOP has elevated dishonesty as if it’s some sort of virtue. MTG isn’t the only blatant liar in the Republican roster. It’s her and Lauren Boebert. And Matt Gaetz. And Ted Cruz. And George Santos. And Josh Hawley.
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I’m a believer in having conservative voices in government. I think they help temper the wildest ideas of liberals in elected positions. But in the current state of American politics, I would gladly accept the worst of the DNC’s proposals over the constant barrage of deceit and grift that has permeated the GOP.
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If there is to be any sanity in conservatism, they need to reject the charlatans who have become the spokespeople of the Republican Party. Until that happens, I can’t take you seriously.nichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12406031304387961610noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13343388.post-23113452479073799102023-03-30T18:29:00.003-07:002023-03-30T18:29:34.249-07:00Good Will Through Older EyesIn the fall of 1997, 18 year old me had this massive crush on a girl I met through church. She wasn’t one of the popular kids from our youth group, a trait we shared. She could have been if she wanted to but I think she didn’t want to be a part of that inner circle. An outsider by choice. We hung out a lot and she was flirtatious. She was one of the few girls at my church that didn’t treat me like I was a weirdo. Did I need a sign to know if she was into me? Maybe. The sign was lit up in neon lights with all arrows pointed at her. If I had asked her out on a date, she would have said yes.
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If.
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The question of our romance remains hypothetical. A really big if. Why? Because I never asked her out.
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The reasons are many. I was young and stupid. Naive. I might have had the ego and invincible arrogance of any normal newly minted adult, but I also struggled with soul crushing insecurity - a malady that would grow into diagnosed depression and anxiety as I got older. While I was 99% sure she liked me and would be willing to date me, that 1% chance was holding me back.
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What if I was wrong? What if she wasn’t flirting? What if that’s just her personality? What if there was no meaning to her giggles and hair twirls while she stared at me? What if there was no emotion to the times she touched my arm or placed her hand on my back? Like a criminal trial, there was reasonable doubt. I couldn’t find her guilty of infatuation so I couldn’t sentence her to my adoration.
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Like I said, I was young. And dumb.
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My best friend, Jeff and I worked at a record store at the time. When the girl mentioned needing a job, I suggested she come work with us. She applied and with a good recommendation from me, she was hired. I was twitter-pated. Now I could see those eyes gazing into my deepest being six days a week instead on once a week. I could have longer conversations and feel her lingering touch more often than I had ever expected. We worked well together, occasionally took lunch breaks in tandem. I’d drop by when I wasn’t scheduled to see if she was still there; anything for a little extra time in her presence. Yet I still never asked her out. This awkward reciprocal flirting and unrequited romantic tension went on for months.
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After work on Friday, December 5th, 1997, Jeff and I opened the store. He and I were the only two people employees for the first few hours of our shift. There weren’t many customers visiting that morning, so we had a lot of time to chat and goof off. When he and I talked our conversations were deeply philosophical, even if immature. Our topics usually fell into one of three topics: God, girls, and geekery. After all, we were straight dudes trying to figure out our places in this world. As for the nerd talk, Jeff was the dude who got me into comic books back in junior high. We bonded in high school drama club. We were both fans of horror and science fiction. After graduation, he and I were practically brothers, going to concerts, movies, and poker night together nearly every weekend.
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That Friday, the girls topic narrowed down to one girl. The girl. The one I had been enamored with for most of the previous six months. He wanted to know why I still hadn’t asked her out. Even he could see she wanted me to ask her on a date.
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I told him I couldn’t. He said I was an amateur. I told him she was beautiful, smart, fun, and different than any girl I’d ever known. He said he’d ask her out for me if I didn’t do it. I balked. I explained she was too perfect and I didn’t want to ruin what I had. He smacked the back of my head and said “Maybe you’re perfect right now” and suggested it was me I didn’t want to ruin.
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How do I remember the exact day and date that conversation transpired? Because it’s the day the movie Good Will Hunting was released. After Jeff and I clocked out from work, we drove to the theater in Lynnwood and watched it. That was common for us, catching the movies we were most excited to see on opening night. We did it with everything from The Matrix to The Big Lebowski to The Mask of Zorro.
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In the movie, Will (Matt Damon) told his therapist Sean (Robin Williams) about a recent date with a girl he liked. Sean asked if they were going on another date and Will said he didn’t know because he hadn’t called her back. Sean called Will an amateur.
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Then Will said “Don’t worry about me. I know what I’m doin’. Yeah, but this girl was, like, you know, beautiful. She’s smart. She’s fun. She’s different from most of the girls I’ve been with.” Sean urged him to call the girl. Will continued, “Why? So I can realize she’s not that smart? That she’s fuckin’ boring? You know, I mean, you don’t. This girl’s, like, fuckin’ perfect right now. I don’t wanna ruin that.”
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Sean replied, “Maybe you’re perfect right now. Maybe you don’t wanna ruin that. But I think that’s a super philosophy, Will. That way, you can go through your entire life without ever having to really know anybody.”
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In the darkeness of the theater, Jeff and I turned our heads to look at each other. His expression matched mine. Jaw slack and wide eyed. Our earlier interaction matched the movie nearly word for word, just with less swearing. It’s as if Matt Damon and Ben Affleck were time travelers and they eavesdropped on our future discussion when writing this scene. We walked out of that theater questioning ourselves. “Did that really happen? Did we recreate the movie before even seeing in it? Was our life imitating art? And how could we recreate art with no prior knowledge of the art we copied?
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The movie also made me cry. Seeing Matt Damon break down into tears as he and Robin Williams’ embrace at the end of the film is enough to melt the coldest heart. Good Will Hunting impacted me in other ways. Lines like “How do you like them apples” and “Go with the wrench” and “It’s not your fault” have become permanent parts of my vocabulary. As an autistic person I’ve always used song lyrics, movie dialog, and literary quotes as substitutes for original communication as a way of masking my social awkwardness. It’s called scripting.
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It shouldn’t need said, but Good Will Hunting remains one of my favorite movies of all time. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve watched it.
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My oldest son has been struggling lately as he is trying to figure out how to adult. After he got some discouraging news recently, I figured he and I needed a movie night. Something to help him feel better. A reminder that it’s not his fault. Naturally, I chose Good Will Hunting. He’s roughly the same age now as when I first saw the film: halfway between 18th and 19th birthdays. He is, like I was, going through transitions, trying to discover who he is and what he wants from life. Confident yet insecure. Opinionated yet confused.
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Thankfully, he really liked the movie. I don’t think my ego would have survived if he said it was dumb. Then we talked for a bit. Thomas already knew about the girl and the saga of me never asking her out. I’ve told him the whole story before because it includes one of the few times I believe I audibly heard God speaking to me. When the movie was over, he asked me if I regretted not asking the girl out, much the same way Will asked Sean if he regretted meeting his wife. I told my son no. I have a lot of regrets, but not asking that girl on a date isn’t one of them. We talked about a couple other things and Thomas let me know he felt better after watching the movie. Mission accomplished.
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Aside from getting my son’s impression on one of my cinematic favorites, I also had an unexpected observation about myself.
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The first time I watched this movie, I identified so much with Will. Unlike him, I wasn’t abused or shuffled around different foster homes. I had parents who loved me. I was not as violent. I didn’t smoke, didn’t drink alcohol. But I was insecure and angry like Will Hunting. Both Will the character and Nic the kid were well above average intelligence failing to live up to our potentials. I saw him as a more delinquent version of me. Repeat viewings never changed the connection I felt to Matt Damon’s creation. But something different happened last night. For the first time, I related more to Robin Williams character. I felt more like the therapist Sean than the patient Will.
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE8kdNJ7YLnzEXEdcunnHwjeQ53GgpdZb4m34BM7VN1K5EaJ32iU9iqNtVm3tZLtjK5sVZH9t_g--SWx37G74Cby9GTyitVzpafT28VP-F-Y-S52tozbUYw-dElmPQQ1mKF61j3nfqrpCxAfJUmuLTDfzXFij1anYWPvIYsMjozUivDs5iRQ/s602/goodwillhunting2.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; "><img alt="" border="0" width="400" data-original-height="339" data-original-width="602" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE8kdNJ7YLnzEXEdcunnHwjeQ53GgpdZb4m34BM7VN1K5EaJ32iU9iqNtVm3tZLtjK5sVZH9t_g--SWx37G74Cby9GTyitVzpafT28VP-F-Y-S52tozbUYw-dElmPQQ1mKF61j3nfqrpCxAfJUmuLTDfzXFij1anYWPvIYsMjozUivDs5iRQ/s400/goodwillhunting2.jpg"/></a></div>
It’s not 1997 anymore. I still need to improve myself. But I’m not the lost, insecure, and directionless kid I once was.
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During the same counseling session where Will and Sean talked about Will’s date and the possibility of more, Sean said “You're not perfect. And let me save you the suspense, this girl you met isn't either. The question is, whether or not you're perfect for each other.” I feel this in my soul these days. Annie and I both know we’re not perfect people, but we are perfect for each other.
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When Will challenges Sean, the therapist replied, “I teach this shit, I didn't say I knew how to do it.” If there was a line from Good Will Hunting that resembles who I am today, that would be it.nichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12406031304387961610noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13343388.post-22662782634460367752022-11-20T11:25:00.001-08:002022-11-20T11:27:58.853-08:00In Twitter We MuskIf you’re on Twitter, you have probably witnessed the pandemonium. Employees fired. Employees quitting. Accounts deactivated. Fake accounts. Parody accounts. Spectators predicting doom. Senators threatening regulation. Declarations of the end of the world. Ahem, I mean the end of Twitter. All because the son of a wealthy apartheid era South African emerald mine magnate used his massive grifted fortune propped up with substantial loans to purchase a popular social media site with 436 million users for some weird experiment in chaos theory.
<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib91bf0NzsGwgZjrsSGuAGodwtg9PPCDYX1dLSUTRKOQFIVBx5O8COxJfEXMesGtstUug1YBDw7u6zm6HOTPKvAsdgPjqmh33a-COmsv-PctB5_J4mpglyfL0wKDF81VNGDUkldQ44PVBVCtk2Ee_9p3oPNLax1UOD1Ds39zRcfaMoR38k9g/s1600/deadtwitter1.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib91bf0NzsGwgZjrsSGuAGodwtg9PPCDYX1dLSUTRKOQFIVBx5O8COxJfEXMesGtstUug1YBDw7u6zm6HOTPKvAsdgPjqmh33a-COmsv-PctB5_J4mpglyfL0wKDF81VNGDUkldQ44PVBVCtk2Ee_9p3oPNLax1UOD1Ds39zRcfaMoR38k9g/s400/deadtwitter1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
It’s been a few interesting weeks watching Twitter’s dumpster fire erupt in real time. I don’t know if it’s more appropriate to compare this disaster to Twitanic or Twittergeddon but either way, it’s fascinating. As I’ve read news articles, studied reactions of those I follow, and continued to tweet as if everything is fine, I’ve gathered a few pertinent observations. If Twitter is a microcosm of the real world, here are some lessons we could all learn from this theoretical demise of Twitter.<div><br /></div><b>1.</b> Irony is lost. There is something oddly surreal about the phrase #twitterisdead being a trending topic on Twitter. How can it be dead if we’re all using it to find out if it’s dead? It might be dying but it is not dead. At least not yet. Even Elon Musk recognized this contradiction and tweeted this photo as a response. <div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghkf_cBuvHcQlSo1RAN_MyR-evwsFdFPxiQ1koumu_JnjcDbX9c81SycDMnLMveGR4O4HaYKEc4IxcAyq4s_51Xjgbv-bTa1xoKCGckDsuLzPAjxJHSLltN0kouNXJ7K7sdNSm3xyM8MFFRTvuF8rF8c14rCifuJ0EVjuS4GnZDW6DoHSVqg/s680/deadtwitter2.JPG" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="547" data-original-width="680" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghkf_cBuvHcQlSo1RAN_MyR-evwsFdFPxiQ1koumu_JnjcDbX9c81SycDMnLMveGR4O4HaYKEc4IxcAyq4s_51Xjgbv-bTa1xoKCGckDsuLzPAjxJHSLltN0kouNXJ7K7sdNSm3xyM8MFFRTvuF8rF8c14rCifuJ0EVjuS4GnZDW6DoHSVqg/s400/deadtwitter2.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><div style="text-align: center;">courtesy of the manbaby Elon Musk</div></span><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><b>2.</b> Humanity is gullible. We (generally speaking) will believe anything with a blue check mark next to it. We’ll believe anything spoken on our favorite news channel. We fall for conspiracy theories and propaganda bots like we’ve been brainwashed. Perhaps it’s confirmation bias - we believe the things that solidify the things we already wish were true. <br /><br /><b>
3.</b> Humanity is brilliant. While this point seems to contradict the latter, we must realize life is not a strict dichotomy. Humanity is so smart because it is also incredibly stupid. We see the weaknesses of ill-advised decisions and exploit them. Who else would pay $8 a month to create a billion dollar stock loss for an evil corporation? Only someone with high (even if devious) intelligence. <br /><br /><b>
4. </b>If the apocalypse was to begin tomorrow, it will be both terrifying and hilarious. Whether alien invasion or solar flare, polar shift or zombie hordes, humanity will be unprepared to survive. However, we will have jokes. We will battle the literal end of the world with memes and GIFs. There is no plan B. We can’t even come up with a suitable replacement for Twitter, how are we ever to survive global annihilation? <br /><br /><b>
5. </b>Wealth does not equal competence. Elon Musk is the richest person in the world yet becoming the CEO of Twitter might be his undoing. Being insanely rich hasn’t made him a good boss. Being able to swim in his money like Scrooge McDuck hasn’t made handling the twitterly reins any easier. Affluence is not the same thing as business acumen.
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While we’re at it, perhaps allowing the richest people in the world control everything is a bad idea. The end of Twitter is nothing more than the obvious result of oligarchally influenced unfettered capitalism. But what do I know? I’m just a poor boy, nobody tweets me.
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDjd6e0C1R9dEmmPy1MFxW1bzEFR_vWGfTndxuLHAaMUvFtrdI4rHlrEnblRfMqpzWa2jWg-d6aLjoK8pTVh5oGwqJkzyp6D90_N7z5lS_NhlfGmUttrQ4TIUm8fQlKfrkEJTDjVuAu_BamC9ORb96Y3V7mSpId3gIigNJOOOVdIv9FldGGA/s1532/deadtwitter3.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="1532" data-original-width="1532" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDjd6e0C1R9dEmmPy1MFxW1bzEFR_vWGfTndxuLHAaMUvFtrdI4rHlrEnblRfMqpzWa2jWg-d6aLjoK8pTVh5oGwqJkzyp6D90_N7z5lS_NhlfGmUttrQ4TIUm8fQlKfrkEJTDjVuAu_BamC9ORb96Y3V7mSpId3gIigNJOOOVdIv9FldGGA/s400/deadtwitter3.jpg" width="400" /></a></div></div>nichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12406031304387961610noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13343388.post-75598450067948263932022-09-05T08:23:00.000-07:002022-09-05T08:23:36.436-07:00The New BreedKids these days. When I hear that phrase in normal conversation, it’s usually uttered with a scowl and a hint of disdain. It’s always a complaint about the younger generation. They’re weird, disrespectful, and don’t follow any of the rules. The irony is often overlooked - the people voicing their ire against the youth are regurgitating the same complaints older folks had about them when they were teens.
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Kids these days. When I say it, it’s spoken with awe and hope. They are weird, and it’s wonderful. They’re brilliant, smarter than their elders want to acknowledge. They’re devious by necessity. And they don’t do anything the way it’s always been done.
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There is something different about how they rebel than generations before them. My parents’ peers rebelled with bell bottoms and long hair. My generation rebelled with ripped jeans and feedback fueled guitars. At the end of our wild days, from the elder millennials upward through the baby boomers, we found our way into the workforce just like the generations before us. We hashed out our need to be different then learned to be the same.
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Kids these days don’t have the liberty to do what we did. They rebel because they don’t have any other choice. From education to business, into every corner of entertainment from sports to art, to the way government functions, kids these days are taking a different approach than the way we’ve always done it because our paths are not available to them.
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Kids these days watched the concept of a career and job security evaporate for their parents and grandparents. They’ve observed the decorum of the general public devolve in recent years. They know the economy the rest of us enjoyed doesn’t exist anymore so they’re doing things differently. If they must work with the public, they’re doing it on their own terms.
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj4Qnyv7envrc-O-3LfmakITm24Hfcj6QVJ-XD5zK6TKRJLhq98efU5utp9sQxhxY2cGNBVm13XQTXb20-jj2fevbytYZQMPfZOOnyBXwPlP9M-oWycZtNueI-4uzEIa0V-a1hwHFeDLt0NtveZiZ50J1F7WKnXgLlAK8KpiyXPnlTguCahQ/s900/Protesteen.JPG" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="675" data-original-width="900" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj4Qnyv7envrc-O-3LfmakITm24Hfcj6QVJ-XD5zK6TKRJLhq98efU5utp9sQxhxY2cGNBVm13XQTXb20-jj2fevbytYZQMPfZOOnyBXwPlP9M-oWycZtNueI-4uzEIa0V-a1hwHFeDLt0NtveZiZ50J1F7WKnXgLlAK8KpiyXPnlTguCahQ/s400/Protesteen.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><div style="text-align: center;">courtesy of <a href="https://www.dazeddigital.com/" target="_blank">Dazed & Confused Magazine</a></div></span><br />
20 year old musicians have never lived in a world without American Idol. Teenagers don’t know what life was like before YouTube. The idea of break out viral stars has been a part of their collective consciousness since birth. The days of mailing demo tapes to record labels is ancient history to them, and kids these days are using social media to release music whenever they want.
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Literary publishing is adapting to meet younger trends. Kids these days never typed out a manuscript on a typewriter, never waited at a Kinkos while their book was printed, and never used snail mail to query agents. It was never required of them. Technology has made it easier for young writers to self publish, connect with agents, find editors, and sign deals with publishers through Twitter and TikTok.
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Kids these days are accomplishing mind boggling feats in athletics, destroying nearly every record that ever existed. Technology and science has made sports safer, kids more adaptable, and injuries easier to heal.
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Politics are wild for kids these days. It’s been 23 years since the Columbine shooting. New voters registering to vote for the first time in their lives have grown up with active shooter drills. There’s never been a time in their lives when mass shootings were not a thing. They’ve spent their whole lives in a post-9/11 world. The only thing they’ve experienced from our government is nepotism, deep partisan divisions, culture wars, and the ever growing wealth gap. If they seem politically radical, it’s because we created an environment that fosters racialism.
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Old folks these days. Some of y’all look at kids these days the same way Anakin looked at the younglings in the Jedi Temple after he turned to the dark side. Y’all fear what you don’t understand and want to destroy anything you can’t control.
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLNb9iP4elDaq-cIsMNxcg1efRO7XN5ti9r3E-fIU1Kj7sgujoQ4JuFJZW9qZ5Gg1kpy6rQRM9d_ggDia8vO2woIrFnDIJ8kBeP5YTqr6gJi918ENZXv6swHpcePC7fR56BPwGiOLcmMwiLdX5xY2jTzRT8DA8tePWQ8Bod2p3tL3xeGCMkA/s1400/Anakin.JPG" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="700" data-original-width="1400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLNb9iP4elDaq-cIsMNxcg1efRO7XN5ti9r3E-fIU1Kj7sgujoQ4JuFJZW9qZ5Gg1kpy6rQRM9d_ggDia8vO2woIrFnDIJ8kBeP5YTqr6gJi918ENZXv6swHpcePC7fR56BPwGiOLcmMwiLdX5xY2jTzRT8DA8tePWQ8Bod2p3tL3xeGCMkA/s400/Anakin.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><div style="text-align: center;">courtesy of <a href="https://www.lucasfilm.com/" target="_blank">Lucasfilm</a></div></span><br />
You think kids these days are weird because they are. We made them this way. Kids these days are a new breed of human, diverging from the way things have always been done because we gave them no other choice. For better or worse, the future belongs to them. Once we’re gone, this world is theirs.
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There is one thing clear to me about these younglings: they are going to change the world. They’re doing it with or without us. The rest of us need to be more like Obi Wan, less like Darth Vader. If we’re not ready to help kids these days, it’s time for us to get out of their way.
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHIU-5pYfSILEh8YLXitaaQA0pDkXQkzslqebkycsj84TOqO5d_BNFmim0gQwYVaomcikOUQ1MIzqWu-niVUM7heOI78nYhh0H7b0v1XWKTOTb0rezepJg6Mz7QQN2bpwDyLdCL-NbWHAYmKeE47VrdE-8ApsWijrhsV9BMRnoi2uUmaebPQ/s834/obi%20wan.PNG" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="435" data-original-width="834" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHIU-5pYfSILEh8YLXitaaQA0pDkXQkzslqebkycsj84TOqO5d_BNFmim0gQwYVaomcikOUQ1MIzqWu-niVUM7heOI78nYhh0H7b0v1XWKTOTb0rezepJg6Mz7QQN2bpwDyLdCL-NbWHAYmKeE47VrdE-8ApsWijrhsV9BMRnoi2uUmaebPQ/s400/obi%20wan.PNG" width="400" /></a></div><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><div style="text-align: center;">courtesy of <a href="https://www.lucasfilm.com/" target="_blank">Lucasfilm</a></div></span>nichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12406031304387961610noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13343388.post-6547329809667232722022-08-12T06:13:00.000-07:002022-08-12T06:13:13.936-07:00Looking for Care in All the Wrong PlacesA few weeks ago, I bumped into an old coworker at Walmart. Yes, Walmart. I don’t like shopping there but it’s the closest store to our farm and they usually supply what we demand so funds are exchanged for goods. It’s capitalism 101. Hate it as much as you want, Walmart won’t cease to exist if my family stops shopping there. This is not a story about the deeds or misdeeds of America’s largest brick and mortar retailer. That’s a conversation for another time.
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Rather, it’s a story about how we got here. A consumer and an employee, both former colleagues and cogs in a machine who have found peace and happiness in new and wildly different machines. Our former lives were spent within the confines of a call center. He a supervisor and I an administration analyst. We were both in leadership roles, the only difference being he had direct reports and I did not.
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For those of you who are not familiar with the term, call centers are businesses with one sole purpose - to be the telephone point of contact of a multitude of industries. From your bank to your utilities, airlines to insurance, and everything in between. If you call the 800 number advertising “how’s my driving?” on the back of a semi truck or the “dial for assistance” sign when stuck in an elevator, those calls go to a call center. Inbound and outbound calls, customer service, collections, telemarketing, tech support, all of it is call center work. As long as people want to know why their bill is so high or complain when things aren’t working like they should, there will always be a demand for call centers.
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During the course of my professional life, I’ve worked in three different call centers - a major television provider, a credit card company, and a telecommunications corporation. Not everything I endured was bad; my experiences varied from curious sheer luck to something torn from the pages of Dante’s Inferno. Most people I know who have suffered call center work probably identify with the latter - it’s pure hell.
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As an industry, call centers have a 30-40% attrition rate. Out of every 100 employees that get hired at a call center, 30 to 40 of them quit or get fired within their first year. There are some call centers with 100% attrition rates, constantly striving to backfill vacant positions. I’m not sure what the attrition rate was at my office, but I do know the “now hiring” sign out front was never taken down during the seventeen and a half years I worked there.
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There was a recurring joke I told throughout my tenure: “By the time I finally quit this place, I’ll be able write a book filled with true stories so outlandish people would think it’s fiction.” Now that I have quit, I feel like there are some big expectations to fulfill. I might write that book some day. Oh the stories I could tell. Tales of drugs, sex, lies, murder, nazis, theft, and the pain caused when general incompetence is given the reins of power. All in due time.
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Back to Walmart.
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I was making a late night venture to pick up some bird grain and pig feed. As I walked from the pet food isles toward the grocery department, I noticed a familiar face stocking the shelves with paper towels. Just a glance but I kept walking as my brain tried to reconcile a Walmart uniform covering the body of someone I’m used to seeing dressed in business casual. Once my synapses realized the unmistakable face I spotted three steps behind was indeed who I thought it was, I pumped the brakes in a cartoonish halt, then walked backwards to make sure I wasn’t imagining things.
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“Howdy stranger,” I said.<br>
“Oh hey.” He replied.<br>
“How long you been here?”<br>
“Oh, I quit (the bad place) shortly after you did.”
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He went on to tell me Walmart paid him the same salary he made as a supervisor and he didn’t have to worry about making his incentives every month. Less stress, no longer responsible for the management of a large team of employees, a schedule that fits his personality better, and he makes the same amount of money.
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Some people would look at what he did as a step backwards. It’s easy to make that assumption. From a supervisor with some degree of control and influence to throwing freight and stocking shelves at Walmart with no control or influence. But if I were honest, that night in Walmart is the first I’d seen him smiling in years. Abandoning misery in exchange for better mental health is never a step backwards, even if the peace and happiness is found inside Walmart’s evil empire.
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This weekend, my wife had some abysmal interactions with call center employees. It was a (more than) 12 hour ordeal with our road side assistance company attempting to get our van towed to the tire shop after one of her tires blew out on I-90. One guy tried telling her our policy didn’t include towing (which it does), one dude sounded like he was so stoned he probably couldn’t read the script on his computer, and a few of them had accents so thick they couldn’t be understood. She was hung up on twice - once after asking for a supervisor. And she had to explain to at least six different people her vehicle was parked on the side of the freeway - all were confused because we couldn’t provide a specific street address.
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At the end of the saga, my wife was in tears. “No one cares.” She said, “No one gives a damn that I have to get to work today or that I have kids, or that we had plans for things to do and that they could be ruining those plans. They don’t care. Nobody cares.”
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She’s correct. They don’t care. It’s not their job. Even if it was their job to care, they don’t get paid enough to care. How do I know? Because I wasn’t paid enough to care either. Same for my former coworker who’s now found bliss stocking shelves at Walmart - he wasn’t paid enough to care.
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This is what customer service looks like within the confines of unfettered capitalism. Capitalism doesn’t care about hurt feelings, it cares about money. Capitalism doesn’t care about consumers, it cares about shareholders. Capitalism doesn’t care about doing the right thing unless the right thing earns a profit.
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At the end of the day, whether you’re a customer calling in for help or employee clocking off to go home… Call centers are a business and businesses exist to make money.
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There are several ways that call centers can increase revenue.<br>
• Leaner statistics. Shorter call handle times mean more calls are getting answered. More completed calls are generally better for the profit line. As a result, call center employees are incented to reduce the amount of time they spend on the phone with you; the more complex your issue the less interested they are in helping you. It is more fiscally responsible for call center employees to handle the next customer in line then it is to resolve their current customer’s reason for calling.<br>
• Reduce overhead. Computers are expensive to fix and replace. Most call centers operate on equipment that would’ve been cutting edge a decade ago, using outdated software that can barely keep up with today’s technology, and equipment is constantly breaking. If you call anyone in customer service and they apologize because their computers are “updating” that means something is broken. None of this would be a challenge if IT departments were fully staffed. Unfortunately IT support is also an expense. Telecom, tier 1 and tier 2 support, desktop and software support, programming - call centers everywhere are intentionally short staffed in their information technology departments.<br>
• Eliminate non-essential staff. Who is non-essential in call centers? Everyone who doesn’t take a phone call. Trainers, human resources, quality assurance, janitors, receptionists. These roles are pure expense to call centers and nothing they do makes the business money. These days, call centers operate with a skeleton crew everywhere except the call center floor.<br>
• Remote hiring. One of the benefits of the Covid pandemic was the growth in work from home availability. Unfortunately, not everyone is good at working from home. Productivity is often lower for remote employees compared to those working on site. Supervision and accountability is also more difficult when employees are not working in the office.<br>
• Skimp on education. It costs money to train people. Less time spent in new hire training means it’s less expense to hire new employees. Companies are interested in getting butts in seats faster even if that means employees are less prepared to handle calls, less knowledgeable, and more prone to making mistakes.
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Take these considerations then add the stress of constant belittlement from both customers and managers, all for low wage compensation. Call centers don’t pay more than they have to. But they often pay enough to trap people. That’s the idea that you’re not qualified for a better paying job but if you did get a different job, you’d probably have to take a pay cut. Somehow, I got lucky and found a better job for better pay. My former colleague found similar luck at Walmart.
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Sorry this tale didn’t include anything salacious. It was rude of me to tempt you with such possibilities. Maybe next time. Still there is a lesson to be learned, a moral of the story. If you’re looking for someone to care about your circumstances, call centers are the worst possible location to find that level of concern. I assure you - they most definitely do not care about you.
<br><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjtgYs47LuXsgnBkJwiwhI99lIVv0gv8H-fHs8E5xepIuz2G-xcS4k7PfFPHvbCcIODSWgzS6FIKmrgQpbHM2Q5PCxXJcQYLAmOHiK3BFJqMKLODxRW8LFNo2X0FmLjOiDT4XS6KvroCHdRJdiTccUtBSIRH-RldQVnAYUbjzgyo0Bx-nFSQ/s500/customer%20disservice.png" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; "><img alt="" border="0" width="400" data-original-height="496" data-original-width="500" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjtgYs47LuXsgnBkJwiwhI99lIVv0gv8H-fHs8E5xepIuz2G-xcS4k7PfFPHvbCcIODSWgzS6FIKmrgQpbHM2Q5PCxXJcQYLAmOHiK3BFJqMKLODxRW8LFNo2X0FmLjOiDT4XS6KvroCHdRJdiTccUtBSIRH-RldQVnAYUbjzgyo0Bx-nFSQ/s400/customer%20disservice.png"/></a></div>nichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12406031304387961610noreply@blogger.com0