Oh, Frabjous Day!

charlieclemson @ 2008-11-08T09:05:00

2008-11-08T14:06:25Z

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The Incredible Hulk

2008-06-17T14:00:26Z

Saw the new Hulk movie over the weekend!

Actually, we saw it on Friday, opening day, at 7:30. The theater was crowded, but not close to being full. I was concerned. When we left, the lobby was absolutely packed and I think I overheard someone say that a showing of Hulk was sold out. This made me feel better. Haha! I worry.

I'll admit, I was excited to see the film. I'd heard that this movie was supposed to emulate the television show's "fugitive" theme. Like a lot of people, I guess, one of my first impressions of the Hulk was taken from the television show--largely because it was a show that my mother said she had been quite a fan of. (Incidentally, I guess that was my first exposure to the Daredevil character, too. Haha I'll never forget him 'seeing' that lightbulb through his "radar vision.") The other impression of the Hulk I had as a child was the bright green, mindless guy who, for some reason, always seemed more like a bad guy than a good one and who would jump really, really far.

Bruce Jones' run on the comic (at least, at the beginning) revived my love for the Banner-on-the-run stories. It's just such an inspired take on the character, in my opinion. A man who has a power inside of him that he's terrified of, that has ruined many a life, but who finds that he can help others with that same power--even though it means that he'll have to leave yet again.

I guess I must be attracted to the man-on-the-run stories. The Bourne Identity is one of my favorite movies, along with The Fugitive... Interesting.

I digress! Now, I have to admit that I'm kind of a fan of the movie "Hulk." I understand all the criticism. I really do. What I liked about the movie, though (and--as one reviewer noted--what was sorely lacking from this second iteration) was the explanation for Banner's problems with anger and rage. Where does it come from? Why can't he control it? Is his temper really so bad that he can't trip without going over the edge?

Ang Lee's movie tried to tell that story, perhaps at the expense of telling a comic book story. Nick Nolte's overblown performance and a rather... unsatisfying conclusion notwithstanding (I'm trying to ignore the Hulk Dogs entirely. But I think I just failed.) it's a movie that I can enjoy for its merits despite its failings.

On an RP board I was a member at, I tried to take the origin story established in "Hulk" and move them forward into a man-on-the-run type of deal. I wasn't really very successful, unfortunately. One of those creative failures that I'm getting pretty used to. Haha

I've reached the point of this ramble! It was a great big thrill, then, for me to see the first movie kindasorta continued and developed into just the story I wish I'd had the skill to tell. Minus the really ugly-looking Abomination.

I think Ed Norton really makes a much better Banner than Bana did. I understand Lee's thinking on the matter. It makes sense that a guy with the potential for Hulking-out inside of him might be taller and bigger than a lot of the other people around him. And isn't it interesting how meek he is?

But Norton's character really personifies that comic image of Banner. A scrawny nerd who struggles constantly in a battle of wills with a monster inside of him. Norton's a perfect fit for that image because, as we saw in the movie, even when he tries to buff up he still looks spindly. It only helps that he's also a good actor. I'm not sure this was him at the top of his game, but I was very pleased with the performance.

My crush on Jennifer Connelly makes any comparisons with Liv Tyler kind of unfair. Haha! But I don't really think she deserves the venom I've seen spouted at her at a few places on the Internet. She's not the greatest actress ever. That's a certainty. Still, I'd take her over the majority of working actresses in Hollywood right now, any day of the week.

The same review I mentioned earlier also noted that Blonsky's character was the only one with a real arc. I can definitely see his point. It's a shame there wasn't more emphasis given to Banner's decision to use the Hulk to help. His turnaround was sudden and, though maybe not as jarring as the reviewer seemed to feel it was, it certainly could have been helped by a bit more development.

I really loved the moment in the movie when Banner reluctantly decides to help his female coworker, knowing the risk he's taking by doing so. Another moment like that, later in the movie, would have really cemented the idea that this guy is a hero at his core. If we're going to see a Hulk possibly in the Avengers movie, wouldn't it make sense to emphasize his heroic side a little more? I would think so... Of course, the movie was already running long, so I can understand the exclusion of such a scene.

The end battle was slightly disappointing for me. I think my feelings of dissatisfaction lie almost completely with the detachment I feel with the Abomination's appearance. The human face that looks photoshopped onto this... terrible, horrible idea of a creature. It just didn't work for me at all. I was done with the fight as soon as it started.

Seeing Blonksy jump around the Hulk while souped up on the super soldier serum?

OOooooooh man, that got me all kinds of excited about the possibilities of a Captain America movie.

Despite my criticisms, I'm happy to say that I enjoyed the movie. Like the first Hulk, I'm sure that I'll watch it multiple times in the future and derive satisfaction from what it got right, trying my best to ignore what might have missed.

Bourne Ficathon Entry

2007-10-20T16:31:36Z

Title: 'Nobody Does the Right Thing'
Author: Michael
Summary: Jason shows up for a scheduled rendezvous
Characters/Pairings: Jason and Nicky
Rating/Warnings: PG-13? Probably less... Haha
Ficathon Recipient/Prompt: yeswonderland/ I kind of combined two prompts into one. Prompt regarding Jason and Nicky: Fluff, something about the progress of their
relationship. (I don't think I ever really reached fluff, though) and prompt 2: Something character study-wise in genre. Basically how Jason feels about what he is/who he is/his future.
Spoilers: Bourne movie trilogy is pretty much spoiled...
Beta: A friend
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of Jason Bourne or Nicky Parsons or their related properties. I did not get paid for writing this story.
Author's Notes: I'm not sure if this is a complete story or not. It's more like an introductory chapter... I tried to tie it up. But I'm slow, and I wanted to meet the deadline.

The sights and smells of the marketplace sometimes seemed universal. Meat slow-roasting over an open flame, fresh fish, ripe fruits, and spices. The spices were always the most exciting scents because, perhaps more than any of the other elements, they defined the spectrum-the rainbow-of flavors that would eventually set a particular location or culture’s cuisine apart from all the others.

As the man best known as Jason Bourne moved through the dense crowd in the Makola Market in Accra, Ghana, it occurred to him that he’d never really experienced a place like it before. Not limited to food items or even necessities, it seemed everything was up for barter among the collected throngs. Rows and rows of shops and stands offered wares as diverse as fried tongue or empty metal boxes of seemingly every dimension imaginable.

The sellers were eagerly selling, and the buyers enthusiastically buying. All were smiling. The collective positivity was… unfamiliar.

Wearing a nondescript button-up shirt of a neutral color and simple trousers with plenty of pockets, Jason looked like any other tourist brave enough to venture into the cacophonous labyrinth. In recent years, tourism had grown steadily in the country of Ghana—a fact that offered some comfort, despite the obvious differences between himself and the natives whose home he now visited.

Trouble had followed him practically nonstop, though, for the last few years. A moment’s respite seemed almost too much to ask for.

Jason skirted close to a shop to avoid a procession of women carrying large bundles of goods on their heads. A group of children suddenly surrounded him and he slowed his pace, which had been fairly brisk and determined. He noticed for the first time the particularly inviting aroma that was wafting from the booth, matched only by the welcoming, innocent faces of the young crowd that had gathered about him. A quick glance showed him that the shop sold a dark soup containing what looked to be a mixture of crab, chicken, and perhaps a few other types of meat in among various vegetables.

“Sit!” one of the larger boys exclaimed happily. All together, the group of children erupted with similar cries.

“Eat!”

“The best soup in Accra!”

Small hands swamped him--some pushing, others tugging--leading him to a small, simple dining area already occupied by a handful of patrons who seemed intent on their soup and largely unphased by the spectacle that Jason was beginning to suspect had been repeated hundreds of times before as an arguably highly effective means of nabbing customers.

Despite himself, he felt a grin spread across his face, though it was marked with uneasiness.

“I can’t,” Bourne said. His protestations went ignored, though, as he was pushed deeper into the shop. Finally, pressed against a chair, he fell back onto the thinly cushioned seat. “Look,” he said, directing his comments to the boy who had first spoken to him, “I’d love to stay and try your soup…”

Jason’s words trailed off as he suddenly felt a pair of eyes boring into the back of his head. At the same time, some of the children’s eyes flitted to something behind him and, if he read their expressions correctly, their faces lit with recognition.

Slowly, casually, Jason shifted his arm over the back of the chair. Between the crowds walking through the thoroughfare, past some hanging baskets, a woman with dark hair and a strikingly fair complexion stood out like a beacon. Though she wore large, black sunglasses, Bourne recognized Nicky Parsons immediately. He saw her and he knew she was watching him. Her expression didn’t change, though, when their eyes met. In fact, for an instant, it seemed to Jason that she might just turn and walk the other way.

Finally, she stepped in his direction, and Jason turned his attention away from her and started scanning the shops for any faces that seemed to be watching Nicky or himself with anything more than bored curiosity. As it turned out, no one seemed to be paying them much attention at all.

As Nicky moved closer, though, a man in a camouflage uniform stepped around the corner, peeking through the wicker baskets and watching Nicky. Bourne looked away, focusing his eyes on a hen that had gotten loose and was running through the crowds. With his peripheral vision, though, he watched Nicky and the man who had been following her.

Three months had passed since Jason Bourne had last laid eyes on Nicky Parsons, and a lot of things had changed in the interim. He’d tracked down Albert Hirsch, the man who’d been there ‘at the beginning.’ The man who’d started his training as an operative for Treadstone. Jason had learned his real name: David Webb. Oddly enough, even with large chunks of his memory returning, including some parts of his life before Treadstone, the name still sounded foreign to him.

Nicky stopped a few feet short of the table, both hands resting on the strap of the large bag she carried over her right shoulder. The sunglasses made reading her expression difficult, but her body language said a lot about her… struggle.

“Sit down,” Jason said, wondering to himself if she knew nothing about acting casually. “Not there,” he added abruptly as she reached for a seat that would have put her directly in his line of sight to the Ghanaian man who was still watching her from his post.

“You came,” Nicky said as she obediently dropped into another chair at the table Jason occupied. The children remained pressed around them, still smiling warmly. Most of them moved to welcome Nicky.

With the moment’s distraction, Jason glanced in the direction of the man wearing camouflage. The greetings between Nicky and the young boys and girls confirmed what Jason had already suspected. They were familiar with her. The man, who Bourne guessed was in his early-twenties, had moved from behind the baskets. He was walking with conspicuous deliberateness, his eyes fixed on them.

Jason had hoped that any interest the young man might have had in Nicky would be dissuaded by her joining Jason’s table. It seemed he was wrong.

“How long have you been here?” Bourne asked.

The smile on Nicky’s face froze as she looked in Jason’s direction. “What? I just got here. I mean…”

“The children. They know you. How long have you been in Accra?”

“Two… Almost two weeks,” Nicky answered. Her brow furled behind the rim of her sunglasses. “I found a hotel, uh, Crystal Hostel. Well, I’ve actually been sleeping in a tent… I’ve been working,” she added almost defensively.

Jason nodded and reminded himself that that was how she’d been trained to operate. Find a place to settle and build an alibi. Become a new person. Hide in plain sight. Jason, on the other hand, had been trained to disappear. If he performed his job correctly, when he left a town or a city, no one ever remembered him being there.

“You’re being followed,” he stated matter-of-factly.

“What?” Nicky said, clearly surprised. He saw her fight the urge to turn around and look.

“Native man in a policeman’s uniform,” he instructed. “Probably a thief.” Jason’s eyes flitted to the young man once again, observing the way his elbow was bent and his hand rested near his belt. He was hiding something under his shirt--something that he wanted to keep his hand close to. A gun.

“How…?” Nicky started to ask but stopped as Jason’s eyes met hers.

“We’re leaving,” he said. He got up from the table and crossed behind her as she stood. He rested his hand on her back as any husband or boyfriend might and pushed in the direction away from their tail.

Their sudden decision to depart, however, did not sit well with the diner’s younger occupants. Shouting a protest, they swarmed the pair, pushing them back towards the table.

“Not now!” Jason insisted.

“You!” a man’s voice called out from behind them.

Bourne tightened his jaw and let out a slow breath. His eyes closed.

No. I don’t want to do this. Not here.

His eyes opened as he turned slowly, dropping his hand from Nicky’s back and casually stepping in front of her. His face was expressionless.

“I need you two to come with me,” the faux policeman said. He was nervous. Excited. A young criminal with a new toy who was all too eager to enjoy his easily obtained spoils.

“We don’t want any trouble,” Jason said in an even-toned, confident voice.

“Just come with me,” the thief said, his hand pulling at the shirt tail that hid the gun stuck in his pants. Jason could practically feel the young man’s compulsion to draw the weapon, to reveal his perceived superiority. But he kept it concealed, undoubtedly wanting to avoid a great deal of public attention.

“Fine,” Jason said at last. “Where to?”

He turned to see Nicky staring at him through shaded lenses. He nodded slightly and nudged her forward. They exited the shop with the gunman sticking close behind them. The children stayed where they were, all too eager to see the perceived authority figure leaving without paying them any mind.

The small parade entered into the mingling crowd of marketers, moving unhurriedly to the outer reaches of the marketplace. Bourne stared straight ahead, jaw fixed, but he could feel the man behind him. Nicky turned the corner to cut between two tents. Jason paused, carefully calculating the distance he needed between himself and the gunman, before stepping around the corner. The thief’s inexperience proved his undoing, as he had been too far away to stop Jason from stepping out of view for an instant, and far too close to react quickly enough to spare himself the beating he was about to receive.

As the Ghanaian rounded the corner, Jason threw his forearm into the man’s throat. Gurgling, he stumbled backwards, wide-eyed and grabbing for his throat. A quick punch across the jaw turned the thief’s neck far enough to send him falling. Two more jabs to the face ensured he wouldn’t be waking any time soon or seeing out of his right eye for a few days.

The whole thing had happened in the bat of an eye. One of the shopkeepers in the tent next to them let out a scream. Jason already had the Ghanaian flipped onto his stomach. Crouching over him, he snatched the gun from the man’s waistband and slid it under his own.

Nicky had turned at the woman’s alarm and Jason caught her eye. She had the same expression she’d worn when he’d busted into her Parisian safe house. She was scared. Of him. “Go,” he said. “Walk twenty meters then lose the sunglasses and… buy something… I’ll meet you at the nest.”

She turned and walked briskly away from him, and Jason turned his attention back to the fallen assailant. Quick hands felt the unconscious man’s pockets. He soon came up with a couple of passports, a white man and woman, and a wad of cash. The passports were useless if they’d been reported stolen. Somehow, he doubted the previous owners had received that opportunity. Deciding Nicky might be able to do something with them, Jason stuffed the goods into his pockets and looked up, searching in the direction she had left in. He saw her standing at a shop far down the row, tying a newly purchased scarf around her head.

Standing, he turned and walked in the opposite direction, shouldering past a few pedestrians who had stopped to stare, open-mouthed, at the fallen man in camouflage and the man who’d taken him down.

********

Six hours later, the sun was just about to set. The purple sky was becoming greyer by the second, casting long shadows over the manicured lawn littered with simple tents. He’d circled the Crystal Hostel three times now to make certain that nobody had followed Nicky or had staked out her tent. From all appearances, they’d made a clean getaway. It wasn’t surprising. With the increase of tourism in Ghana, crime rates had followed suit, and the government and law enforcement were dragging their feet at catching up.

Still, as secure as Jason felt that they hadn’t been blown, he found himself hesitant to approach Nicky’s tent. Not for the first time, he felt like this had all been a bad idea, agreeing to meet up again. The truth of the matter was, the only reason he’d agreed to it at all was because he felt guilty. Nicky had thrown away her professional life and perhaps any future prospects of ever contacting whatever friends and family she might have had the instant she cooperated with him. It would have been a lot for him to have asked of a close friend. Too much.

So he’d agreed to meet her, if nothing else just so he could teach her the basics of running. Clearly, she wasn’t completely inept, but then the CIA had been a little busy chasing Bourne and getting eaten up from the inside-out as their dirty dealings came to light. Once all of that was over, they could be certain that the agency would come looking. If he’d learned anything over the last few years, it was that the CIA had a long memory.

Rubbing the knuckles on his right hand with his thumb, Jason eyed the tents one last time. Then, raising from his huddled position, he made a bee-line for Nicky’s tent. He threw back the burlap flap and saw Nicky jump as he stuck his head inside. She grabbed her chest with one hand even while the other slapped at the small table near the cot where the tent’s solitary lamp sat along with a small pistol.

Jason frowned as he stepped into the tent and let the flap fall closed behind him. It was crazy to try and travel with a firearm and maybe even more dangerous for someone like her to try and buy one in Ghana. He didn’t even want to think about what risks she’d taken to obtain the weapon. And for what? So she could be shot through the tent?

He moved straight to the lamp and turned the knob, cutting off the putting of gas and the whine of the luminescence. The tent fell into darkness and silence.

“It’s not safe…” he said after a few awkward seconds. The silhouettes cast on the cloth would show anyone outside just exactly where they were in the tent at any given moment.

There was another silence, this one longer than the first. Jason stood in the blackness of the small tent as his eyes slowly adjusted and recalled the dimensions of the tent and the layout of the minimal furniture from the short glimpse he’d had.

“I was starting to think you’d changed your mind,” Nicky said at last. “That you’d left.”

“I almost did,” Jason admitted finding a simple chair with an outstretched hand and turning to sit in it. He started pulling at the laces in his boots, eager to pull them from his hot, sweaty, and aching feet. Bending wasn’t at all pleasant, as it pulled at the gunshot wound in his back, but Jason was used to pain.

“I didn’t know he was following me,” she said. “He must have spotted me in the market. I know he wasn’t behind me when I left the tent…”

“I know.”

He pulled the gun from the back of his pants and placed it on the ground next to his foot and proceeded to practice grabbing it a couple of times to make absolute sure he knew precisely where it was.

“I’ve been watching the fallout,” Nicky continued in time. “If they didn’t hate you before, they do now. All of them.”

Jason couldn’t argue with that or with what logic followed the reality. “We should be safe for a little while,” he said though he wasn’t exactly taking any chances.

“So… what are w—you going to do?”

The blue light of the moon peeked into the tent, and, finally, Jason’s eyes were able to use it to see Nicky, still sitting on the bed, looking at him. He couldn’t make out details, but he could feel her eyes on him and he knew the look on her face, could see it in his mind’s eye as plainly as could be. It was always the same. She watched him like a lion-tamer-in-training working with a panther she didn’t quite trust yet.

He could understand the fear in her eyes. It was her fascination that was really unsettling. Traveling to Africa, he’d had plenty of time to think about her words, implying that they’d… what? Had some kind of relationship? Even now, he had no recollection at all, no hint in his mind or heart, that they’d been intimate in any fashion.

He decided that, if they had… known each other, it must have been very much one-sided. Imagining Nicky with an interest in a man as sick as he’d been, though-- It was difficult to accept.

“We run,” Jason answered finally. “For now.” At last, he was barefoot. He clasped his hands and rested his elbows on his knees, flexing his toes and letting fresh air flow between them for the first time in three days. “It gets…”

“… Gets easier,” Nicky said, suddenly agitated. “Yeah, I remember you saying that. I’m still waiting on that.”

That was because it was a lie. It never got any easier. The only time it had gotten easier was when he’d stopped running. When Marie had found a place she loved and he couldn’t bring himself to uproot them yet again. And look what had happened…

“Why did you come back?” Nicky continued. “You said you almost didn’t. What made you change your mind?”

Jason ran his hand over his short hair. “I’m just trying to do the right thing,” he sighed. A heavy silence followed.

“Nobody does the right thing,” Nicky said, crestfallen.

Bourne looked up sharply, meeting her gaze in the dark and remembering suddenly when Marie had said those exact words to him. At the time, he’d been put off by their negativity. He truly had just been trying to help. The difference then had been that he honestly couldn’t remember the life of pain he’d lived. He’d had no frame of reference to help him appreciate the wisdom that prompted her response. Knowing now about the man he’d been, the terrible things he’d done, being fully aware of the trail of collateral damage he left in his wake everywhere he went, the truth in Nicky’s words was all too clear. This time, he simply bowed his head.

Query

2006-10-02T20:05:11Z

I wonder how hard it would be to get General Mills to start shipping Spicy Chex Mix to my house. In crates.

Pimping Rule No. 1

2006-03-02T15:06:22Z

Quick update... The concert was wonderful. We were incredibly close to Chris Martin's new afro. I was very pleased. Fiona Apple was very strange while she sang, but she performed marvelously. I drove home after the show. We didn't get off of the parking lot until midnight. I checked the clock as I got into bed and it was a few minutes after 4 AM. Not too shabby for what everybody was telling me was a five hour drive. I stayed awake by reading signs and billboards out loud, singing (and trying to learn the lyrics to Coldplay's new songs, which still eludes me), and staring into streetlights when we passed them. I also allowed the cold air to vent into the car, which is why I caught a sinus infection that I still can't seem to shake. Blah.

So, we basically laid around Friday through Sunday and did absolutely nothing. Glorious!

I just want to talk a little bit about our viewing habits of late... We've been watching a lot of these "concept" dating shows on the afternoon block of MTV: Date My Mom, Room Raiders, Parental Control. All of 'em. And, everytime we're watching them I can't help wonder why we bother. Practically everything about them are superficial (especially NEXT. That's definitely the worst as far as judging by looks), but what seems most abhorrent to me is how the people on these shows are almost invariably looking for some action, if you know what I mean.

The show that makes this fact absolutely disgusting is Date My Mom, in which mothers try to win dates for their daughters. The mothers are all nice, in some cases lying about their daughters' appearances or qualities or past experiences, just so they can win this date, and the whole time MTV is showing these asides where the date in question is making steamy remarks.

Does anybody else out there get weirded out by the fact that these mothers are prostituting their daughters??? For free???

The Most Geeky Thing I've Ever Done.

2005-11-10T15:28:15Z

So last night I bought this cheapo documentary about the people who stood in line for six weeks in front of Grauman's Chinese Theater to see Star Wars Episode II: Attack of the Clones called "Star Wait." I had seen a segment of Triumph the Insult Comic Dog where he was making fun of the same people for standing outside the theater for Episode III (even though the movie didn't play there) and thought it might be interesting to watch and perhaps even good for a laugh.

It was okay, but I think I definitely got my money's worth. The camera work was shoddy to say the least, and the subjects were mighty crass in their vocabulary. I'm a fan of Star Wars. In fact, I'm considering attending a marathon showing of all six movies at a small movie theater in January (tickets go on sale Saturday... I'm still thinking about it.) But these guys definitely take the cake.

Why am I telling you this? Well, one of the gentlemen raised a somewhat interesting question, actually two, about this series of movies that I thought might be fun to debate... with myself.

The questions are: Which was the villian, Obi-Wan Kenobi or Darth Vader? It seems like a simple question, but when asked outright, Obi-Wan lied to Luke, while Darth Vader told him the truth. It's an idea worth considering, though I definitely know where I stand on this one.

Secondly, are Vader's actions in the last few minutes of Return of the Jedi enough to warrant the same reward as Yoda and Obi-Wan, becoming one with the Force? (as is signified by his standing next to them at the end of the movie all blue and shimmery-like.)

Firstly, was Obi-Wan a villian because he lied? Of course, Obi-Wan should not have lied. A lie is a fundamental breach of trust and is definitely something that would be associated more with the "dark side" than the "light." However, consider the alternative. Would Luke have even believed Obi-Wan if he told the young man outright that his father used to Darth Vader? It's highly unlikely. The only reason he accepted it when Anakin himself admitted it is because Luke was in-tune enough with the Force by then to feel it for himself. Also, what good would the knowledge that Vader was Anakin have done for Luke at the time Obi-Wan told him that Vader killed his father? The only possible outcomes I can think of would be contrary to the good of Luke and, in actuality, for the galaxy itself. As Obi-Wan later admitted, what he told Luke was truth, from a certain point of view. In the movie, considering the circumstances and Obi-Wan's knowledge and belief system, I believe he did the kind thing by not telling Luke his father was Darth Vader.

On the flipside, was Darth Vader less of a villian because he told Luke the truth? Again, in my opinion, the answer is no. It is a historical fact that evil men, liars and traitors in every way, will use a truth or a tidbit of factual information to lure their prey. Vader wanted something from Luke: slavery to the Emperor OR even to overturn the Emperor. By telling Luke that he was his son, Vader accomplished two things. He established a link between the two of them he felt could be exploited, and he discredited the fond memory that Luke had of Obi-Wan. That's the reason so many fans debated whether Vader was telling the truth; it would make a perfect lie.

So, to me the answer is simple. Obi-Wan was a kind man and a hero. This was not tainted by the fact that he twisted the truth when he told Luke his father was killed, or nonexistant. Similarly, Darth Vader wasn't any less a villian because he chose to tell Luke the truth. He was simply pursuing his own selfish interests.

The second question asked was regarding Anakin's redemption. Is it fair that a man responsible for the deaths of millions of people be redeemed mere moments before death because he suddenly saved the life of one man, his son?

Well, the first point in that argument I'd like to address is, did Vader just save one life? In the "expanded universe" of Star Wars, it is stated that the Emperor's vast powers in the dark side were used to guide the soldiers in his army as they fought the Rebels. That is why the battle turned so quickly when the Emperor died. The soldiers in the Empire's army had suddenly lost their chief source of guidance. Even if that weren't so, by ridding the galaxy of the Emperor, Vader was still saving countless lives the Emperor would have taken in the future if left unchecked (which he surely would have been as there were no Jedi left to challenge him.)

Looking at things from that standpoint, what Vader did when he destroyed the Emperor was quite heroic.

Another thing to consider is, how sentient is the Force? Is there an intelligence behind it? Is the fact that Vader was redeemed a reason to believe that he was actually forgiven for all his past deeds? Or simply a reflection of the state of his mind and heart when he actually died? At the time of his death, Vader had left the ways of the dark side and had embraced the light once more. Is the Force so easily tricked?

Well, I don't really have an answer for that. The true nature of the Force was never really explained. I suppose my point is that there are many, many things to consider when passing judgement. Who's to say that Vader's redemption was warranted or not? Who could really challenge that decision? I know I'm not wise enough to judge another man.

In other news, I don't have to work tomorrow. 8-D

I'm done.

Mr. Fixit

2005-10-14T20:10:07Z

This morning, as soon as I walked into work, one of the ladies came up and said, "I have a job for you." This is not unusual, so I followed, anticipating some kind of minor computer problem or perhaps a water bottle that needed changing. Instead she said, "The vacuum cleaner is broken. It's blowing instead of sucking."

Again, I anticipated an easy fix. I mean, everybody's seen the cartoons where they flick a switch on the vacuum cleaner and it starts blowing instead of sucking, right? I just flick the switch back, and voila! Fixed absence of matter.

Well, I searched the dang thing up and down... No such switch on this model. The problem had to be something else. So, I turned the thing on and tried running it. It seemed to pick up a few pieces of paper around the copier. (It must have been an illusion. It wasn't picking anything up.) I called in the lady, saying, "I don't see the problem." She spread out a large hunk of confetti-ed paper, and it just blew them around. It wasn't going to be THAT easy.

SO, I started investigating further... By removing the tube, I discovered that the vacuum was, in fact, sucking instead of blowing. That was a relief. Upon further examination, I discovered quite a blockage of paper in the short tunnel the runs from the spinny-brush thing on the bottom to the sucky tube thing on the side (that takes the trash into the bag). This is all very technical, now. I hope you all can follow.

I tried to use an ink pen to loosen the clog, but the pen was too short. I tried scissors. They loosed the papers a little bit, at least the ones I could reach, so I tried hooking the maching up again, to see if they'd been loosened enough. The head of vacuum cleaner "fell" and landed directly on the ink pen. There was an awful noise, and by the time I got the cleaner turned off, the pen had been destroyed and ink was thrown all over the place. It was awful. Thankfully I wasn't working on carpeted floor. Some Formula 409 and several paper towels later, the work continued. Now, in addition to the clog, there was a piece of pen to be removed from the aforementioned "tunnel."

The tube was too small for me to stick my fingers into, and was actually situated beneath the spinny-brush thing. I went to my office and got my tool kit, and began deconstructing the vacuum cleaner. I knew at this point that there was a very real possibility the machine would never function properly again... But the work continued.

Taking the bottom off of the cleaner actually only involved the removal of two screws. I then removed the spinny-brush thing and had clear access to the tunnel. Using some large tweezers that were in my tool set, I began pulling out chunks of paper. After removing a particularly large hunk of detritus, I dediced that there might be enough cleared out to allow the power of the vacuum cleaner to do the rest of the work. I put the spinny-brush thing back into place, replaced the bottom so as not to lose an eye when the spinny brush thing started spinning, replaced the bag (the other one was covered in ink), and flipped on the switch. There was noise, but nothing happened.

Perturbed, I repeated all of the deconstruction and again tried to clear the path, this time using a fork. This new tool worked fairly well, and I was able to get all but a tiny bit of the paper left in the "tunnel." Confident that the task was finally completed, I put the bottom of the cleaner back together, plugged it in, and hit the switch. I held my hand up to the spinny brush thing... I could feel the wind from the brush, but it definitely wasn't sucking. At this point, I was pretty confused. I removed the sucky tube thing from the side and held it up to my hand. It wasn't sucking at all!

It was only at this moment that I realized I'd removed the front cover of the vacuum cleaner to replace the bag, and I hadn't replaced the cover. Obviously, a vacuum cleaner cannot operate if it can not create a vacuum. Cursing my stupidity, I snapped the cover into place and hit the switch.

And there was GLORIOUS SUCKAGE.

Wiping my ink-stained hands, I walked away from another job done in the worst possible way.

charlieclemson @ 2005-01-28T13:50:00

2005-01-28T19:14:04Z

I decided to do this, cause I saw it on Scarlett's LJ, and it looked fun. Take a look!

1. First car: Chevy Celebrity '88

2. Place you grew up: Chas. WV. (This pic is actually of a road that you take to get to the road that then takes you to the hollow I grew up on that doesn't have a name. And this particular picture was taken during a fire. 8-o)

3. Place you live now: Kanawha City... from a bit of a distance.

4. What shows up when you type your name in: Michael (???)

5. What comes up when you type your grandmothers name in: Neva (No, that's not my grandmother's tombstone)

6. Favorite food: French fries!

7. Favorite drink: Cherry cola

8. Favorite song: House of the Rising Sun

9. Favorite smell: honeysuckle (with Grapefruit a close second)

10. Favorite pair of shoes ever: Doc Martin saddle oxfords. I thought I was pretty cool with those. Haha! I didn't wear them very often, though...

Taken from http://www.livejournal.com/users/xreve/ (Sorry, I don't know how to do the fancy linking...)