tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-526520262651487262024-02-26T09:35:34.774-08:00#TheWorkingAuthorWorking and Writing for the Man. Full-Time System Admin, Part-Time
Speculative Fantasy Author.StuartTheAuthorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05517500378556611697noreply@blogger.comBlogger116125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-52652026265148726.post-50601722306685618062024-02-16T20:50:00.000-08:002024-02-16T20:50:25.277-08:00The Unexpected Theology of Vivienne Medrano's Hazbin Hotel<p> </p><p class="MsoNormal">There’s occasions where I watch something and it moves me
enough to think about it in excess. <i><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hazbin_Hotel">Hazbin Hotel</a></i> is one
such show. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioAAPJTjkB5VJCtx5_UXgJbvkEdEQIwGJk5jTk9hhCSX6U99NknG0-nUx-FgnN-LX0HERAKOljDkfLJM8OG6taSqNMvB2jhwR9_PPD8llJ4tugtwP8fLfs6wgZmNcTIElwasXGqFdGD0VNyeOL-BTw_3XIvAEtIHi7yQYEpxJZGDE_g1fT27q8obhIGw/s1920/1.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="287" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioAAPJTjkB5VJCtx5_UXgJbvkEdEQIwGJk5jTk9hhCSX6U99NknG0-nUx-FgnN-LX0HERAKOljDkfLJM8OG6taSqNMvB2jhwR9_PPD8llJ4tugtwP8fLfs6wgZmNcTIElwasXGqFdGD0VNyeOL-BTw_3XIvAEtIHi7yQYEpxJZGDE_g1fT27q8obhIGw/w511-h287/1.png" width="511" /></a></div></div><br /><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The general conceit of the show is one of a deep desire to
be redeemed out of habitual sin. It begins following the aftermath of a yearly purge
(a la <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Purge">The Purge</a> film
franchise) wherein the angelic host of heaven descends into a Dantean like Hell
to cull the population of demons that have begun to overcrowd the region. (Fantasy
notwithstanding, I was already interested with the idea from a theological
perspective, wondering if this was some form of delayed annihilationism.) Charlie
Morningstar, the daughter Lucifer Morningstar (Aka Satan), having witnessed
this for the umpteenth time, is moved to action and decides to establish a
halfway house for sinners desiring salvation. And, of course, there’s lots of
singing. </p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRptDPbTHUqMDzwlJvqs0Jpi5dcZxYFKqvciSuPTm12CnY7Ef2Pl-g5Jyp8PL5T-K2IzbapxwWo9eEwYOaIHSHqf5B3vtk13Eodfyd_TW9GYxq3cc36UuudY2DOprk0ET5q5U4GdKqqCO57Ulfih3Iv4uNcyouDNXjlMQLLPxXJZ4Yel5jAVW7abq7Rg/s1602/2.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="791" data-original-width="1602" height="203" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRptDPbTHUqMDzwlJvqs0Jpi5dcZxYFKqvciSuPTm12CnY7Ef2Pl-g5Jyp8PL5T-K2IzbapxwWo9eEwYOaIHSHqf5B3vtk13Eodfyd_TW9GYxq3cc36UuudY2DOprk0ET5q5U4GdKqqCO57Ulfih3Iv4uNcyouDNXjlMQLLPxXJZ4Yel5jAVW7abq7Rg/w410-h203/2.png" width="410" /></a></div><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">What I found really remarkable about the show, developed by <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Vivienne_Medrano">Vivienne Medrano</a>, was
the honesty and authenticity of the characters. In the same vein as her
previous YouTube series, <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Helluva_Boss">Helluva
Boss</a>—despite what I, a white, Christian male may think about the character’s
choices or actions—there is something inherently magnetic about Charlie’s
altruism, Vaggie’s cynicism, Angel Dust’s deviance, and Husk’s standoffishness.
They are real and relatable, which, honestly, is the true objective of any kind
of creative writing, and the result is fantastic. And while the overtly crass
language is unrealistic and distracts from what can be transpiring in the
episodes, the overall substance underneath I found compelling. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Theologically speaking, the writers of the show ask very
thoughtful questions about the nature of life, or justice, of forgiveness. For
instance, in episode 2, when Sir Pentious (essentially cobra commander anthropomorphized
as a full sized cobra in steampunk attire) is caught in the act of trying to sabotage
the hotel, Charlie encourages him to ask forgiveness. In the musical number
that ensues she says “… it starts with ‘sorry.’ That’s your foot in the door.
One simple ‘sorry’… The path to forgiveness is a twisting trail of hearts, but ‘sorry’
is where it starts.” Even when Vaggie (Charlie’s girlfriend) and Angel Dust,
indicate that they would rather succumb to their desire to just kill Sir
Pentious, Charlie insists, “but who hasn’t been in his shoes?” It’s easy to
dismiss the show as “satanic” and “depraved” as conservative critics are
undoubtedly saying, but as we are all made in the image and likeness of God, our
deep inner propensity to want forgiveness and salvation is startlingly on
display throughout the show. <o:p></o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhISC8SngKUCcd27RytnA321pMImSrkEAIii7dR7O2tN9E2lHDtvHNayueXalBIn1g4sa7aiQ25WGDPBCJ2YwDQq80TvSrd09CSM0uL6qiDCXMKUCwLdIESpjHh1ysEbphVsYVmcizBt8WdBYwyUKcbGcantJIa7jpt6cH0If9TqC3TQvNCeU7dqAj6eQ/s1887/3.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1061" data-original-width="1887" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhISC8SngKUCcd27RytnA321pMImSrkEAIii7dR7O2tN9E2lHDtvHNayueXalBIn1g4sa7aiQ25WGDPBCJ2YwDQq80TvSrd09CSM0uL6qiDCXMKUCwLdIESpjHh1ysEbphVsYVmcizBt8WdBYwyUKcbGcantJIa7jpt6cH0If9TqC3TQvNCeU7dqAj6eQ/w424-h239/3.png" width="424" /></a></div><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">In a subsequent episode, “Masquerade,” Angel Dust’s sexual abuse
is discussed, where it’s implied that, despite being proud of his overtly erotic
disposition, the life that he has been sold into is demeaning and exploitative.
Like many of the unknown actresses and actors that work in the adult film
industry, His only recourse is to forget his trauma through heavy substance
abuse. Although the musical exposition between himself and Husk seems to
undercut the same need to reform that Sir Pentious expresses earlier, their conclusion
is still something remarkable: that they are damaged and exploited people that
need each other to get by in a brutal and desperate world. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><o:p> </o:p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJKXPqychbMSUhS3VpvbF56rKuAh-_UBo3AjHint550lg5foC2CUa_L5jd-HmMcf18lFtwPvJz9bx7dyM7e1_41FNo7d8Ebo5MJ-U21t2qGqf25wSzThjVbje3mKZK7VsW4F75TGVCu85wWuqcCDRbocdD1bAkbCdZcAthZfFrCQlgJ0Y23l7ONBKPTw/s1894/4.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1064" data-original-width="1894" height="303" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJKXPqychbMSUhS3VpvbF56rKuAh-_UBo3AjHint550lg5foC2CUa_L5jd-HmMcf18lFtwPvJz9bx7dyM7e1_41FNo7d8Ebo5MJ-U21t2qGqf25wSzThjVbje3mKZK7VsW4F75TGVCu85wWuqcCDRbocdD1bAkbCdZcAthZfFrCQlgJ0Y23l7ONBKPTw/w538-h303/4.png" width="538" /></a></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">My favorite episode, “Welcome to Heaven” was by far the most
theologically developed. Charlie and Vaggie are allowed passage in to Heaven to
argue their case in an angelic court as to whether a soul can be redeemed out
of Hell. When asked what the criterion is for salvation, Adam (of Genesis 3
fame) rather ineptly suggests that it’s to, “act selfless, don’t steal, [and]
stick it to the man.” When Angel Dust demonstrates these moral acts mere
moments after, it begs the question: what actually earns a soul a trip to
heaven? The assumption that it is by some formula of good deeds and virtuous
living that allows a soul to migrate to Heaven after death is nothing new. We
seem to naturally justify—or wish to justify—that what we do matters. I think
that this is because our mortality compels us to make a mark on this world so
that our memory outlives us. I myself want to write books, to be incorporated
into the cannon of Western Literature. But we are taught by both the Bible and recorded
history that this aspiration is the height of folly. The list of famous and
well to do figures, forgotten by the passage of time must be staggeringly large,
just as 99.9% of all the species that have gone before us are now extinct. That
<i>Hazbin Hotel </i>seizes on this ambiguity regarding the requirements to go
to heaven, is remarkable, if only because it encourages discussion around the
worthiness of Christ’s life, death, and resurrection, and why something like it
would distinguish itself so much from the competing ideologies around
justification. It just makes me happy that people who may, or may not, know God
have come so far and has expressed a desire to try something different.</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Of course, this isn’t a show about Jesus, or why we should
be compelled to accept his grace and forgiveness. The cosmology of Heaven and
Hell is all wrong. The motivation behind why someone may take part in heaven,
or willingly chose hell, isn’t accurately described. The hierarchy of demons,
sourced from the <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Lesser_Key_of_Solomon">Lesser Key of Solomon</a>
(based on the <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Testament_of_Solomon">Testament
of Solomon</a>), is not sourced from the canonical books of the bible, but from
dubious extra biblical sources that cannot be reliably dated. And yet, those
who wrote the show and brought it to life, are people with dignity and respect,
being made in the image and likeness of God. Even though I may not agree with
the conclusions, the questions asked are valid and demand a response.</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I think it behooves us as Christians and non-Christians to dialogue
about these kinds of things more frequently, and it encourages me that someone like
Medrano could voice them so creatively and compellingly. I would highly
recommend a watch. Be advised however, and understand, that this is certainly
not Veggie Tales, but a show about very real people who are closer to the Kingdom
of God than they realize.<o:p></o:p></p>StuartTheAuthorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05517500378556611697noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-52652026265148726.post-27211803896171581432024-02-06T08:30:00.000-08:002024-02-06T08:30:58.484-08:00More Thoughts on Warren Ellis<p> <a href="https://www.stuartjwarren.com/2020/06/thoughts-on-warren-ellis.html" target="_blank">Back in 2020</a> I found out that Warren Ellis had committed acts of sexual coercion, according to the testimony of several women he had known in his past. Much to his credit, he did come to terms with the women he had had relationships with, mostly facilitated through this <a href="https://www.somanyofus.com/" target="_blank">website</a> which was launched in 2020. Through a truth-and-reconciliation styled open dialogue, it appears that Ellis was able to sort it all out, although for many I imagine it's hard to forgive and move on.</p><p>Since then, I continued to purchase used hardcovers and trades of Ellis' work, secretly hoping for his eventual absolution. (Thankfully, that seems to have happened, generally, in the court of public opinion.) And what I've found is a consistent narrative trend in his work that elevates characters of varying ethnic and cultural backgrounds. While the counter-cultures of LGBTQAI+, Anarchists, Marxists, Punk (Steampunk, Cyberpunk, Raypunk, et al), and others have existed in some niche form or another, I am confident that Ellis involved himself in those circles long before "it was cool" to do so. Of course, I realize that this is suspiciously the equivalent of the "I'm-not-racist-because-I-have-a-black-friend" argument, but credit where credit's due. </p><p>I think I enjoy Ellis' style mostly for it's playfulness. </p><p>There are other writers out there that are very good at this, like Tom King and Patrick Rothfuss. Even Umberto Eco, on occasion, would have some really funny repartee going on between characters in the midst of a long debate about medieval philosophy. Levity in conversation is its own reward, but when the discussion is high and elevated, the shift in tone is a good reminder that, at the end of the day, we are just reading a story somewhere while the real heroes are out saving lives and making sure our transit systems don't derail (figuratively and literally). Ellis exceeds all expectation when he is doing this. For example, <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ignition_City" target="_blank">Ignition City</a> features this exchange: <br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjVbToo_H1r32LcFZJU0izvyV5suMzyTT0RaYHIn0BTSqAFF3qi7Ey-NU3wS7k7_5qBcK8-cEHcQR6_LKHX921IggUB1wTSHMiEK3M-X2X7R0qj169WedygdiG7ZEED4Z5_7MDd9yhctxgvOL7XG3Nv3HIGge16g7tHPsiWCkD4pqkFWO6O4nGUaiP6HA" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1226" data-original-width="770" height="903" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjVbToo_H1r32LcFZJU0izvyV5suMzyTT0RaYHIn0BTSqAFF3qi7Ey-NU3wS7k7_5qBcK8-cEHcQR6_LKHX921IggUB1wTSHMiEK3M-X2X7R0qj169WedygdiG7ZEED4Z5_7MDd9yhctxgvOL7XG3Nv3HIGge16g7tHPsiWCkD4pqkFWO6O4nGUaiP6HA=w567-h903" width="567" /></a></div><br />And most of his books feature numerous instances of this. <p></p><p><br /></p><p>In general, he strikes me as someone who has "done the reading," so to speak, when it comes to various topics. For example, in <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/FreakAngels" target="_blank">FreakAngels</a>, Ellis frequently discusses aspects of engineering and technology at work in a flooded post-apocalyptic London, such as renewable power generation and rooftop greenhouse farming. While I'm mostly certain that he is not a trained scientist and engineer, the ideas he leverages are based on real ideas and theories. It never seems like technobabble, that is. </p><p><br /></p><p>My only gripe with Ellis is his audacity to start a very good story and ultimately never finish it. Ignition City, <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Trees_(comics)" target="_blank">Trees</a>, and <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Injection_(comics)" target="_blank">Injection</a> are both such examples. He also has a tendency to abruptly end stories, which can be traumatizing (in the most hyperbolic sense). However, to his credit, he was able to finish <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Castlevania_(TV_series)" target="_blank">Castlevania</a>, which ended rather wholesomely, despite the breadth of material covered in the show. His novel, <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gun_Machine" target="_blank">Gun Machine</a> also had a rather satisfying ending. </p><p>On a whole, despite his past, my appreciation for his unique brand of storytelling has increased. He's consistent and delivers on a regular basis: the dream of all writers and readers. </p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>StuartTheAuthorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05517500378556611697noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-52652026265148726.post-77027718872502831502023-11-24T10:17:00.000-08:002023-11-24T10:17:39.093-08:00So I've Been Listening to Christian Radio Again...<p> </p><p class="MsoNormal">My journey through Premier Christian Radio continues.</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">“Me? Listening to Christian radio?” was something I never
thought I’d say, if I can be honest, on the principal that it tends to be
hopelessly out of touch <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">and</i> lame,
where apologists lean back in their armchairs to participate in the theological
equivalent of a circle jerk. But Premier Christian Radio, a British radio
station, complete with a programming line and numerous non-Christian guests,
continues to surprise me. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I’m listening to the “Unbelievable” podcast with Justin Brierley,
which features guests of different faiths (or non-faiths) to discuss the
differences between their views and Christianity. Typically these are
dialogues, not debates, something that I think is important to distinguish.
Each speaker shares their background, their faith, and throughout the
discussion points of distinction arise. What I like about this model is that,
if we assume that Christianity is the only path to God (ie. The “best”
religion), then the orthodoxy and orthopraxy will speak for itself, and there’s
no true purpose to developing an argument or debate.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUkEWzX3mL599zTmSjygbUPuMxXVN7DeuGraCEHBrEXQeRr4jogJK7YaANVVTIVtrQI5SwDZJ9UaqaBVqi90hiTLvmrXo2FELAWghiqQYB5VPMas2R_Ltje5gTqFynBw-l6uznQejs5dtO3bSZ7FFHZ_0OE2Bd2yfc8LCwxJDSEM8MVz4NasOVVOnJ2Q/s562/1.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="445" data-original-width="562" height="253" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUkEWzX3mL599zTmSjygbUPuMxXVN7DeuGraCEHBrEXQeRr4jogJK7YaANVVTIVtrQI5SwDZJ9UaqaBVqi90hiTLvmrXo2FELAWghiqQYB5VPMas2R_Ltje5gTqFynBw-l6uznQejs5dtO3bSZ7FFHZ_0OE2Bd2yfc8LCwxJDSEM8MVz4NasOVVOnJ2Q/s320/1.png" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>
<p class="MsoNormal">The idea of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">wanting</i>
to mutually understand one another, I think, is something that is relatively
new. In times gone by, resource scarcity motivated us, and there is something
to be said about hope (namely, in the afterlife) being one such thing everyone
contested. If person X said something that contradicted person Y’s metaphysical
framework, the end result was a destabilization of an important resource to Y’s
life. Today, our needs are mostly met by the institutions we have erected.
(Perhaps this is why the marginalized have always been more orthodox than the middle
and upper classes?) So our institutions lessen the blow when someone questions
the source of our hope. In fact, most of us probably put our hope in things
other than the metaphysical, whether intentional or unintentional.</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">As I write this on Black Friday, I’m reminded of a quote
that I can’t rightly place where I heard it. “Where religion failed, capitalism
took over.”</p>
<p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnjjNPktGLxrkdDVV2_euIq_k7TZ6mzKX1smZvQymRuf_vX5wJZtMUFtd8DJLqsazZeXwRQSMjtGetxA3Tp8b06msMJ-Yu6zEXDUqSqSPZjzgF2OIhnqfe4MEUAfcwXZOZC8fYkqRHXZFtP79YciKkP7GKkBP20JNABNfreJXrRoyEkkxI0Byy-bQ-Tg/s1030/2.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="658" data-original-width="1030" height="204" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnjjNPktGLxrkdDVV2_euIq_k7TZ6mzKX1smZvQymRuf_vX5wJZtMUFtd8DJLqsazZeXwRQSMjtGetxA3Tp8b06msMJ-Yu6zEXDUqSqSPZjzgF2OIhnqfe4MEUAfcwXZOZC8fYkqRHXZFtP79YciKkP7GKkBP20JNABNfreJXrRoyEkkxI0Byy-bQ-Tg/s320/2.png" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>I suggest that the good feelings at Premier Christian Radio
on the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Unbelievable </i>podcast are
probably symptomatic of this overabundance of resources, metaphysical or otherwise.
Or maybe the Existential has supplanted the Metaphysical? Christianity has
always been offensive in some aspect, whether implied by Jesus’ claim of
exclusivity or because of the misguided zeal of those too impatient to wait for
the Holy Spirit to work on His own time. (This may be why most of the New Age
guest speakers on <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Unbelievable</i> insist
that “it’s all the same thing,” because the full measure truth is too
threatening and mired in the toxicity of institutionalized religion influencing
geopolitics.) But few draw blood on the program, and it’s refreshing that
Justin, the Christian moderator, is the one that endeavors to lead the
conversations away from that. He even aspires to ask the hard questions of the
Christian speakers, anticipating the objections an Atheist might raise. The
argumentation, consistently made in good faith, is so rewarding as an American to
hear, compared to the spiteful and, oftentimes, courtroom spirit of debate that
I’m constantly exposed to in the USA. <o:p></o:p><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">At the end of the day, I remind myself once more that
Christianity speaks for itself. It is Truth manifested through the Hope of the Resurrection
of the Son of God. While Apologetics is important, and must be studied to acquire
a “thinking faith,” the core of our hope comes from our relationship with God
and how we talk to Him. And our Hope in God, evident by our actions and disposition,
is the best evidence for Him we could wish to have. </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Happy Thanksgiving! <o:p></o:p></p>StuartTheAuthorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05517500378556611697noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-52652026265148726.post-66900247622537861292023-07-23T09:09:00.006-07:002023-07-23T09:09:48.775-07:00It's My (35th) Birthday! <p> </p><p class="MsoNormal">This marks, roughly, the second year in our new house. I
have a new job and a new car. Things are leveling out in all the best ways, I
think. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Today is my birthday. I’m 35 years old once the clock
strikes 11AM PST.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi0bTimllbh9ZKxFmVv1lbRbh_C5yKIE8qYjOSPAG0WOctSE5QuKSzvI7-4s86x_XYcxVUaXhNfszZ1AfQZ8LSqNf9xw6idAsQojW0RRXD_G7Gio30nmwm-to2iBrG-F0SwuB18h_XmodYAeF_dXvlJbHyki8BXq-BuZyxGBpzxdseZFwjzfT6_WRGoVA" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="818" data-original-width="600" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi0bTimllbh9ZKxFmVv1lbRbh_C5yKIE8qYjOSPAG0WOctSE5QuKSzvI7-4s86x_XYcxVUaXhNfszZ1AfQZ8LSqNf9xw6idAsQojW0RRXD_G7Gio30nmwm-to2iBrG-F0SwuB18h_XmodYAeF_dXvlJbHyki8BXq-BuZyxGBpzxdseZFwjzfT6_WRGoVA=w293-h400" width="293" /></a></div><br /><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I made this reflection sometime during the last year, where
I realized that I am as old as someone I would have considered to be a “grownup.”
And when I look at Eowyn, who sits on the couch, blissfully unaware of Alyssa
and I’s responsibilities, fears, and anxieties, I smile. Enjoy it while it lasts,
kid! Hopefully, I can ease you in to it. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I’m currently doing some professional coaching. (If you’ve
ever wanted to experience true “impostor syndrome,” try telling someone that
you want to be famous someday and then try to justify it. It’s like Shark Tank,
but it’s your life that you are pitching. And God help you if Marc Maron doesn’t
like it!) A friend approached me and asked if I wanted to be his guinea pig for
his coaching certification, and I accepted with some trepidation. Coaching, as
I imagined it, was a way to con rich people out of their money, but apparently
(as with all things) there was more nuance to the field. It’s more goal
oriented than I imagined, with the coach acting as a guide, asking questions
and teasing out answers. My goals that I set for myself were to prioritize
reading new books in my life, going out on dates with Alyssa, and “perceive writing
as an extension of who I am, not a chore.” Even though I’m only a few weeks in
to the course, I have seen a net positive change. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">With the 3rd goal, I felt like Summer or Beth Smith whacking
their Meeseeks Box. (Asking someone to help guide me through an existential
problem, as opposed to a practical one.) I resolved to start following my
formula for the Writing in Handcuffs videos I made a while back on Instagram,
using the exercises to force myself to write. Instead of writing to share the
final product though, I’m keeping them close. I haven’t even shown Alyssa the
stories yet, and I don’t see any reason to. Inextricably linked to writing, is
the trauma of my youth. It was only some time last year that I made the discovery
that my writing was done primarily to disassociate from past experiences. But,
from this point of view, writing becomes a gateway back to the trauma, to wallow
in it when I probably shouldn’t. It’s like a runner that jumps in to a lion
enclosure to get their daily jog. Why not, then, write as an expression of
freedom and creativity? This is what I’m trying to achieve with the final goal.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">So far, it seems to be working. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Alyssa is working quickly through the novella, which is
usually a good sign. I hope to be editing it again soon.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Anyways, Happy Birthday to me. Time to go to church. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">See you next time! <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>StuartTheAuthorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05517500378556611697noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-52652026265148726.post-6758764324819876262023-07-02T14:35:00.006-07:002023-07-02T14:36:09.081-07:00Letting Go of the World and Backyard Activism<p>Maybe this will rub people the wrong way, maybe it won’t, but I’ve been thinking about some of the current events in my newsfeed, as well as the larger movements happening in our culture, and can’t help but feel exhausted. </p><p><br /></p><p>This isn’t me, a white guy, being bummed out by “noisy minorities” or “angry women,” but just as a human being witnessing the endless outrage machines pumping out content, day after day, and seeming to not be able to escape it. Lately, I’ve been trying to reconcile the need to stay informed with the need to stay disconnected, and strike a healthy balance. Thus far, I’m coming up empty handed. My only, feeble, recourse has been to delete Facebook from my phone; which, even then, is kind of a pyrrhic victory. (How do you build a business/ following on social media without engaging in it? Trick question: you don't.) </p><p><br /></p><p>I’m trying to understand the best way forward but not getting anywhere. </p><p><br /></p><p>I started noticing this when I decided to stop listening to <i><a href="https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/the-problem-with-jon-stewart/id1583132133" target="_blank">The Problem with John Stewart.</a></i> Full disclosure, I love the show. It’s fantastic, informative, and generally entertaining. It’s also cathartic and moving, and getting to hear a dialogue being hashed out between people of varying opinions, something Stewart has always excelled at, is very gratifying. (We ought to recognize the diversity of opinion in this world and be OKAY with that.) But at a certain point hearing a continuous track of “the world sucks, everything is evil, everything is fucked,” becomes staggeringly oppressive. That is sort of the unforeseen gift of technology in general: we are given a mirror to hold up to our faces and observe the horror of who we are, without the veneer of best intentions and window dressing. And it’s awful. </p><p><br /></p><p>Stay with me. I’m getting to my point. </p><p><br /></p><p>So, I decided to find something different and landed on a podcast called <i><a href="https://askntwrightanything.podbean.com/" target="_blank">Ask NT Wright Anything.</a></i> The show itself follows a pretty loose format (at least as far as the first 30-something episodes are concerned), featuring Justin Brierley as host (known for his <i><a href="https://www.premierunbelievable.com/" target="_blank">Unbelievable</a></i> podcast), bouncing a handful of questions off of Wright every two weeks. (For those of you unfamiliar with Wright, he is a New Testament scholar that has contributed a wealth of information on the study of theology and history and philosophy over the last 40-50 years.) The questions vary week to week, some on difficult topics like abuse and church politics, but also touch on lighter things like general pastoral guidance, prayer, and intercession in general.</p><p><br /></p><p>What got me thinking about the world, and my role in it, is the preface he mentions before answering these personal questions in the podcast. “I can’t be your 'online' pastor,” Brierley/Wright say emphatically. “Please join a local church community and seek guidance and have someone work through these painful topics thoroughly, in person.” But then, of course, Wright proceeds to start answering the questions as best he can. (He even did so with me some years back when I worked up the courage to email him about some of my own struggles with faith. An absolute boss of a human!)</p><p><br /></p><p>This gave me an epiphany that may be kind of “bleh, that’s obvious,” but I realized that my ability to affect change in the world is fundamentally finite. So, how much I can influence the treatment of Uyghurs in China, is fundamentally small. It’s not something that I can change or control, personally. I can vote in a general election for policies and politicians that may want to address something like that but, even then, unless I go over there to actively change something, I can’t actually do anything. We still live in a world where geography separates us from active conflicts. Technology can bring us up close but only as voyeurs. </p><p><br /></p><p>So, how did this revelation change my perspective? </p><p><br /></p><p>I'm not saying "don't care about things like BLM or MeToo." I'm saying, "care about what is happening in your own neighborhood, in your own town." You can affect change there in a meaningful and positive way because it comes from your own hands. I think the appeal of activism in general comes from the vicarious experiences it produces, but otherwise it’s just abuse tourism (or, as some have called it, "voluntourism"). Similar to how Christian youth groups go to Africa for a week to build a single house and then leave to go home and feel good about themselves, it’s easier to find inoffensive ways to help than to actually get down in the mud and trauma of people in tough places. </p><p><br /></p><p>(The irony of the former example is that Christians are called to actually do this, but we often (myself included) shirk those commitments in favor of a comfortable, drama-free existence. In fact, we are called to, and ought to, be involved in our local churches, be with others in solidarity with their struggles, and volunteer where necessary. While it seems trivial to pick up chairs after service, it is Kingdom work that serves an immediate need for everyone.) </p><p><br /></p><p>The good thing about local activism is that you, the individual, are the hands and feet of the movement. You see the change taking effect and you aren’t fucking off to somewhere else afterward to allow it to grow back (sometimes worse than before). But the constant availing of ourselves to this kind of brutality and carnage in the remote places that we will never set foot in, via social media and the 24-hour news cycle, is exhausting. If anything, media organizations of every flavor only profit off it when we tune in and pay attention to it (via advertising revenue). What I’m <i>not </i>saying is to be indifferent to earthquakes in Haiti, gun violence in Florida, or wars in Europe. What I’m saying is, <i>if </i>you do decide to engage, quit your job, change your life, actively do something about it. Otherwise, you'll just be angry, constantly, at how shitty the world is, and continue the endless cycle of outrage and grief at all the bad things we have no control over. But, the alternative is far better: do something about it in your own backyard. And over where the carnage is, make the choice to let others do the work, that is unless you are otherwise called to be there yourself. God is still in control. </p><p><br /></p><p>That said, I sat on the above for a day or two and felt compelled to add an additional thought... There are events that occur that do demand international assistance, like the ongoing war in Ukraine, or previous international incidents like the Bosnian War or the Rwandan genocide, but I think the response of private citizens willingly enlisting their skills and services to confront these events is the most realistic path forward. Also, in the wake of the murder of George Floyd, making an active effort to be aware of systemic racism and confronting it where possible, has different applications specific to whichever region we live in. In California, for instance, Latino communities <a href="https://www.ppic.org/blog/californias-hispanic-community/#:~:text=Hispanic%20Californians%20are%20the%20largest,and%200.4%25%20for%20Native%20Americans." target="_blank">make up the largest percentage of residents,</a> yet are <a href="https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC5657576/" target="_blank">routinely marginalized</a>. So, wherever we are needed, we should go and support others and be prepared to serve and minister.</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>StuartTheAuthorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05517500378556611697noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-52652026265148726.post-35965323896281675242023-04-21T20:12:00.004-07:002023-04-21T20:12:29.379-07:00I listened to "The Rise and Fall of Mars Hill" and this Happened...<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj3VCPLwR7NfYtYMpevTGrmEfl98CUFytoZI2MG7YyE61V1pIzsh_sAS-U9W1Fep0kemEFv3_5D0ylL51Z_eOSQb6YWb9YzylQ9y5onDuh4MmAqNZMr6Qoei3BjTfUyBmBzPBSESHNZhTyQZc8K4jKyc2egez9PSnKlybW9hahjTZUUa6wStZW245U" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="320" data-original-width="320" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj3VCPLwR7NfYtYMpevTGrmEfl98CUFytoZI2MG7YyE61V1pIzsh_sAS-U9W1Fep0kemEFv3_5D0ylL51Z_eOSQb6YWb9YzylQ9y5onDuh4MmAqNZMr6Qoei3BjTfUyBmBzPBSESHNZhTyQZc8K4jKyc2egez9PSnKlybW9hahjTZUUa6wStZW245U" width="240" /></a></div><br />I had heard of <i>The Rise and Fall of Mars Hill </i>from a
handful of my friends, and the podcast’s viral appeal during the Pandemic. It
was only until recently that I had actually found the time to listen to it.<p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">This all started when I decided that I should redeem my
morning commute by finding a podcast, or book on tape, that I could meditate to.
There were a lot to choose from, but, at the top of that list,
<i>The Rise and Fall of Mars Hill </i>awaited me like one of scrooges' specters.
There was once a time when I would have done anything to meet Mark Driscoll, or
go to his church. I think I would have even relocated there, if I had the
finances, or a way to get a job near the campus. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">In reality, what my image of Driscoll consisted of was
a flowing river of pixels and soundbites.<i> </i>I had only ever seen him as a
talking head in a web browser window. I was basically what he hated more than
anything at his church: a consumer. I took, and never gave back. (Although,
there was that one time I was shamed in to giving to the Hati relief fund after
their devastating earthquake in 2010…) But I wasn’t alone in this. I think I
was one of maybe millions that listened to his sermons, which were so readily
accessible as internet streaming platforms and social media coalesced in the late 2000s
to what we now understand them to be. Mike Cosper even addresses this as the MC,
who gives context to how Mars Hill Church came to be, and the historical movements
that precipitated it’s meteoric rise to prominence. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I discovered Driscoll during college, listening to his
sermons instead of participating in the local ministries in town, even. I used
his book, <i>The Radical Reformission</i> as a aide for the bible study I led,
which was a mess in and of itself. (“Led,” meaning, “I <i>led</i> a Campus
Crusade Bible Study <i>out of spite</i> for Campus Crusade, which I had
believed at the time had abandoned us because our leaders dropped out of their
commitment to lead us.”) Driscoll's theology was at the forefront of my mind when
discussing the Bible and it’s interpretation. His orthopraxy, was my orthodoxy.
When I eventually did meet him in LA, at an event hosted by Reality LA, while he was on a sermon tour for <i>The</i> <i>Peasant
Princess</i> sermon series, I stood in line at an intermission, waiting to
shake his hand. I told him, to his face, “If being a Father is teaching your children
about God, then you are more of a father than my father,” then gave him a hug. When
I went back to my seat in the auditorium, I cried next to my girlfriend (now,
my wife) for 10 minutes. Later on, when I told my pastor (who knew Mark from
before his rise to fame) back in Escondido about the meeting, he let me
know that Mark complained that one of “his guys” had hugged him. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">When I heard about Driscoll resigning from Mars Hill,
the impact was like listening to a sonic boom in the distance. I could sense
the momentous impact of the event, but I was far enough away to not perceive
the collateral damage at the epicenter. Listening to the podcast, I think,
informed me of the real consequences of what happens when a man walks away from
a church of 15,000 people, and just watches it burn down like the Emperor Nero allegedly
did for the city of Rome. <a href="https://www.stuartjwarren.com/2014/11/thoughts-about-pastor-mark.html">I
wrote about it, shortly after it happened, in November of 2014</a>. I will let
you read the post for yourself, which is something of a time capsule at this
point, but I will highlight one piece of it below:</p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i></i></p><blockquote><i>“I hope and pray that Mark moves on from Mars Hill, that
this experience motivates him to re-evaluate his personal missiology and the
way he deals with people. I hope that he can spend time with his family and
take a long vacation and finally let go of his responsibilities. I hope that he
decides to pastor a church again, and continue to change the lives of people,
and I hope his church never exceeds 200 people.”</i></blockquote><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I look back on my words and feel naivete and shame. I look
back on my experiences, where I led a bible study and quoted this man to such
great lengths that my life was basically the <a href="https://knowyourmeme.com/memes/distracted-boyfriend">Distracted Boyfriend
meme</a>. Mostly, I look back on my devotion to this man and I am confronted by
the reality that what I loved so much about this person was completely
fabricated and curated by his personal Media team, with hundreds of thousands of dollars
behind them. I didn’t really know Driscoll at all. And, for the people who <i>did</i>
know him, who were <i>railroaded</i> by him, I played a small part in their
demise at his hands. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgn1--fEKOeSzCmBVYdCbYrIP6aZifDi8zbJgLQg-f4sGAxufMH3S9n0qa2NJsgkz0qfQYOzo_DMynDAzgrvld-BUWqKHkzW1ZACMne9--v8GCH8Mztw5tIKy-LRY971Gv_7YihrRCy6BaxOOxOG4YRkwBQrK7X-Lf8E-0CKWXJR55-3Xu9DMVV0zY" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="750" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgn1--fEKOeSzCmBVYdCbYrIP6aZifDi8zbJgLQg-f4sGAxufMH3S9n0qa2NJsgkz0qfQYOzo_DMynDAzgrvld-BUWqKHkzW1ZACMne9--v8GCH8Mztw5tIKy-LRY971Gv_7YihrRCy6BaxOOxOG4YRkwBQrK7X-Lf8E-0CKWXJR55-3Xu9DMVV0zY" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">A lot of the podcast deals with the issue of culpability.
And I think Mike Cosper asks the appropriate questions. He suggests, in no
uncertain terms, that we all had a role in Driscoll’s rise to prominence,
and that, worse, we drank the Kool-Aid willingly. I vividly recall defending Driscoll during discussions. Granted, it was mostly his "Reformed theology," but I still
came to the defense of someone that, behind the scenes, was disqualifying
himself from ministry. And that, in no uncertain terms, kind of fucks with me.</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">When I was recommended the podcast, it was following a
period of spiritual upheaval in my life. That others who had since left the Church,
could come to this podcast and feel a sense of reconciliation with whatever spiritual
abuse they had previously encountered, was a balm unto my soul. Although, in
truth, that feeling came and went rather quickly. What galls me, what I don’t
understand, what I may never understand, is that Driscoll is still a
pastor. For me, that’s difficult to accept. I struggle with the idea that God
would allow someone like Driscoll to continue, unabated, in sin. If his Twitter
feed is any indication, his aspect is unchanged. He is still the <a href="https://archive.org/details/PussifiedNation_201707/page/n17/mode/2up">William
Wallace II</a> character of the early Mars Hill Message boards, only now he is lauded
and accepted by every fearful boomer tuning in to Fox News, if only because he
isn’t “woke.”</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Simultaneously, however, I am reminded that Driscoll
isn’t the first man to “speak for God” and kindle a movement, despite grievous disqualifications.
If history tells us anything, there have been many “Mark Driscolls” in the past,
who’s cunning and wit transformed and mobilized entire movements of theological
thought. I may even meet him in heaven and behold his redeemed aspect, shed of
all his faults and misdeeds, by the grace of Jesus, and finally shake his hand
without shame… But, until then, I am oddly confronted by my own self-serving
righteousness, and my desire to see him punished, despite knowing the truth: Mark
Driscoll was justified by Christ’s death, burial, and resurrection. Who am I to
want justice and retribution, while at the same time holding back my
forgiveness? Even Mark Driscoll deserves forgiveness. Why? Because Christ
forgave me.<br style="mso-special-character: line-break;" />
<!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">If none of this makes sense to you, then I welcome you to the personal hell I find myself in. But if it does, then pray for me, and for
Mark, in hopes that we can both meet and embrace one another, one day, without
pretense. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>StuartTheAuthorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05517500378556611697noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-52652026265148726.post-6506280472550008692023-01-21T17:23:00.004-08:002023-01-21T17:23:50.289-08:00Adventures in Church Shopping<p> </p><p class="MsoNormal">This week I decided to leave the church.</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Not THE church, just A church.</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Calm down guys…</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">We started going to a new church a couple weeks ago, having
decided to stop going to the one that we had been going to for a year. The previous
church was good; nothing wrong with it, whatsoever. Doctrine and theology was
solid. It’s mission was solid. But after a year of going, we still knew no one.</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">To clarify, when we were in Santa Barbara, we would go to
Reality Santa Barbara. I was involved in Children’s ministry. And there was
even a mid-week gathering focused on building community with the team. The group
was strong. It persisted and it grew and I met and knew so many wonderful
people while we went to it. But at the first church we went to, after moving to
the Santa Ynez valley, I felt like I had been invisible. I was helping with the
kids ministry, and I knew a few people. But I just felt like another cog in the
wheel at the end of the day. Most of the church was older. Most of the cliques
had been formed. We were just bouncing around, like a ball in a broken pachinko
machine.</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The new church (that we decided to leave recently), was also
good (theology, worship, preaching, etc), only it was in a process of
rebranding. The vision the pastor had was to structure the church off of a discipleship
program steeped in reformed theology. We watched a video by Douglas Wilson, a
conservative, reformed pastor, that spoke of a time of reformation in our own
culture. His premise (one that I disagreed with) was that the Sexual Revolution
had destroyed the Nuclear Family (already not biblical in its literal sense),
that our course was changed irrevocably. The only recourse was to implement a
structured, biblical life, where church fellowship and worship was held in the highest
esteem. (All of these things aren’t bad, by the way.) But all the propaganda
reels of “sinister” LGBTQ and Black Lives Matter rallies turned me off. It
turned me off, not because I don’t believe what the bible tells me (that gender
and sexuality are created aspects of our identity, established by God), but because
the imagery employed was not meant to call people to repentance, it was meant
to create an object to vilify and to hate. This serves no purpose. It’s a lazy
way to galvanize people by pitting them against the very people we are meant to
minister to… Not only this, but my days as a follower of Mark Driscoll’s
teachings still linger in my memory. (There was a time when I was radicalized by
the Reformed Church in my 20s.) And I have no interest in going back to that
theological framework.</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I don’t believe that there is a “best way” to worship.
Orthopraxy does not equate to orthodoxy. Everyone has the ability, and calling,
to invest in a community that serves the “Orphans and the Widows” that live
among us, but I don’t believe the Bible calls us to seclude ourselves from the
world. When Jesus ran his ministry, he critiqued the religious elites for their
orthopraxy and (seemingly) spent the rest of his time with the spiritually sick
and destitute. All the people that we do not desire, or make time for, he loved
AND died for. Far be it from us (THE Church) to shirk that responsibility.</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I guess what makes me so depressed by this turn of events is
not that I was wronged or had been ill treated by this new church. If anything,
the pastor was gracious and kind. He remembered my name, and even approached me
on our first Sunday visiting. What makes me so depressed, is that, either
intentionally or unintentionally, the church’s identity shifted from its Sunday
persona to something completely different on the mid-week gathering. It was a classic
bait-and-switch.</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Yes, that may sound petty. But the lack of consistency was a
red flag. It reminded me of a darker time. A time when I had been hurt, and
jerked around. And I wasn’t going to do that again. The most important thing
about being in community is about being in sync with the pastor’s vision for
the community. This time, though, it just wasn’t happening. And that sucks. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p>Anyways… time to go looking for another church then.</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Two down, one to go. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>StuartTheAuthorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05517500378556611697noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-52652026265148726.post-36990292753011582402022-12-24T11:49:00.000-08:002022-12-24T11:49:03.523-08:00Merry Christmas! Updates Abound! <h2 style="text-align: left;">So, what have I been up to?</h2><p> I have been vacillating back and fourth about what to do about my videos. I had a production method locked in, but when Instagram changed their platform a while back, I never took the time to find a new platform. So now I have this 600$ camera and nothing to film. (Truthfully, I have things to film, but I don't know what I should be focusing on.) To this day, my most popular video was a review I did of <i>Mister Miracle</i> by Tom King and Mitch Gerads. It was a part of a series called, "What the Heck am I Reading?!" which I occasionally harken back to in Instagram posts. This past week it was some clippings of <i>Static, </i>a comic that ran in the 90s that introduced the character Static (of which I remember fondly from the DC Comics animated series, <i>Static Shock).</i> The issue in particular referenced the tension between the Jewish and Black communities in the 90s, which seems all too relevant today with the resurgence of anti-semitism in the mainstream media ecosystem. Reading something written, at this point, almost 30 years ago, as if I pulled it from the culture section of the LA Times today, is as wild as it is bizarre.</p><p>Working with my designer Greg, on his publishing label Electi Studio has yielded some amazing fruit. I may be able to get involved more closely with one of his new properties, which already has large base of players! This reduces the amount of work incumbent on me to self promote. Doing that has always been exhausting and something that I struggle with, so the opportunity to just write without needing to worry about managing a social media presence is a really big deal to me. </p><p>The short story anthology that I am writing to endcap the <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Dynamic-Synapse-Protocol-Stuart-Warren/dp/1637608292" style="font-style: italic;" target="_blank">Dynamic Synapse Protocol</a> universe was put on hold to help Greg with the above since June of this year, but since the beginning of November I've been back at it again. I've re-read about 2/3rds of <i>Dynamic Synapse Protocol</i> to help find some narrative beats to reference back to in the anthology. Of course, I've found a few mistakes that made it to print, but thankfully nothing too major. (Most books have some typos still when they go to print. You know, because pobody's nerfect!) </p><p>The most impressive thing about revisiting a book, or really anything that we have written after some time, is that the work is mostly unfamiliar. Too much time has passed, so all the intimate details just fade away. The result is that we get to read something with (nearly) virgin eyes, and it's a strange experience. </p><h2 style="text-align: left;"> What have I been listening to?</h2><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhUTHzX7y2WOGtPw7UDDRzA3xq9LJCzfuQ8xseGwstBO3FrdcJi_l7-N8nga8zrZLtBHxdEBIMT9qQETW9X5gOESR8t-LqviBamr6T_WeGsCLu_A9m6jFMBwrblNRKRk261MBbp_tPZ5RBT5HNYGgy1LZ8izcpJsgVnFhAh4bmeLhR7yrg7AQATJH0" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhUTHzX7y2WOGtPw7UDDRzA3xq9LJCzfuQ8xseGwstBO3FrdcJi_l7-N8nga8zrZLtBHxdEBIMT9qQETW9X5gOESR8t-LqviBamr6T_WeGsCLu_A9m6jFMBwrblNRKRk261MBbp_tPZ5RBT5HNYGgy1LZ8izcpJsgVnFhAh4bmeLhR7yrg7AQATJH0" width="240" /></a></div><br />Over the Thanksgiving weekend I listened to Devin Townsend's new album called <i>Lightwork. </i>I loved the conceit of a metal guy embracing the Seattle-esque indie textures of post rock. It was authentic, of course. The single off the album "Call of the Void" was definitely the best track. Something to listen to while allowing my mind to drift away into a fugue as my wife drove us home. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><h2 style="text-align: left;">What have I been watching?</h2><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEijLvwUNd8y-f8bBdNeBf9__DvVd6THKr6xb1oSsskowoz68asxqed6pgRroft1MhNY0sdYoHzdHsfR3445yoogKaGG6ju9-G4P39LHWlCZ8zH8NK0BPGWFneeBMrzWzQbXXzS0XVmRR3ioIBZoV5aC0jya85Yz3mVe5IsZ388pyyB_CsAwzd6mipM" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1763" data-original-width="1175" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEijLvwUNd8y-f8bBdNeBf9__DvVd6THKr6xb1oSsskowoz68asxqed6pgRroft1MhNY0sdYoHzdHsfR3445yoogKaGG6ju9-G4P39LHWlCZ8zH8NK0BPGWFneeBMrzWzQbXXzS0XVmRR3ioIBZoV5aC0jya85Yz3mVe5IsZ388pyyB_CsAwzd6mipM=w267-h400" width="267" /></a></div><br /><i>F is For Family</i> has dominated my evenings. After Alyssa puts Eowyn to bed we are mostly watching this, which is (I can only assume) a semi-autobiographical retelling of Bill Burr's childhood. The ebb and flow of comedy and tragedy and turmoil and all that plagues Burr's fictional family, is wildly engaging. It's also set in the 70s, which allows the writers to explore some of the period instances of misogyny and racism. Strangely, what the kids get up to in the episodes, isn't too different from what I lived through during the 90s. I don't know if that is a good or a bad thing...</div><div><br /></div><h2 style="text-align: left;">I found a new church!</h2><div style="text-align: left;">It's called <a href="https://crossroadscentralcoast.com/" target="_blank">Crossroads</a> and pastored by Pastor Sam Kiser. So far so good. I appreciate their humble approach to service and a good ministry to the local community. I am eager to get involved and see what God will be doing with them in the years to come.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><h2 style="text-align: left;">Merry Christmas and Happy New Year</h2><div>Anyways, I hope you all enjoy your Christmas holiday. Here's to a great new year! See my picture from this year's holiday party. You can't see it, but I was morbidly nauseous the whole night! (Thanks anxiety!)</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhlGRAMshS0vCZeafVdbW4YDl2O1lWyV3KkoT7i_1KuUjy0F_vioOurOnJpbCahPY51l6xMhnligG2q8yYAG3JZMxi00zwgkuanMmpkDkG_O7-p46zp1is3l3Fbziyhznaba5--cA9CK6ij8L97pzZX0dJw3wnPn_JOkc3eFlo_tszrwTvfjfN5d0w" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="3088" data-original-width="2316" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhlGRAMshS0vCZeafVdbW4YDl2O1lWyV3KkoT7i_1KuUjy0F_vioOurOnJpbCahPY51l6xMhnligG2q8yYAG3JZMxi00zwgkuanMmpkDkG_O7-p46zp1is3l3Fbziyhznaba5--cA9CK6ij8L97pzZX0dJw3wnPn_JOkc3eFlo_tszrwTvfjfN5d0w" width="180" /></a></div><br /><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>StuartTheAuthorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05517500378556611697noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-52652026265148726.post-40202396953299336262022-10-31T05:00:00.010-07:002022-10-31T05:00:00.145-07:00Cinephobia - By Stuart Warren <p><i>Happy Halloween, Friends!</i></p><p><i>I wanted to get into the spirit this year, so enjoy a spooky short I wrote just for today! </i></p><p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNhUlAarv50jLXhpO3dJQWObabFGpo3AXnAuwG5AwVS5NIM2--ocdDohzJUy2qckF80mQu38-wDQjhguXFaOl4vFqY37g6cQEDSTsJ6PytVEpuG3xcINyuaWdhFNH6QDTTwuxJ9iQSbPw5pr8nYD9EvZdfVnRD3Vp8gRtZ5V02mlNXcm8Zg4Usd44/s3024/alttitle.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNhUlAarv50jLXhpO3dJQWObabFGpo3AXnAuwG5AwVS5NIM2--ocdDohzJUy2qckF80mQu38-wDQjhguXFaOl4vFqY37g6cQEDSTsJ6PytVEpuG3xcINyuaWdhFNH6QDTTwuxJ9iQSbPw5pr8nYD9EvZdfVnRD3Vp8gRtZ5V02mlNXcm8Zg4Usd44/w400-h400/alttitle.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div>Trevor checked Rotten Tomatoes between calls at the office, glancing at the group chat in his periphery. It was ritualistic and ingrained in his routine, like checking social media for <i>Likes</i> or watching Late Night hosts recap yesterday’s news when he woke. An action movie was top billing on the site currently, canvassing every inch of the display with promotional interviews and thumbnails. The film, <i>Equinox Protocol,</i> was polling an anemic 38%.</div><div><br /></div><div>There were many films Trevor could have seen, many books he could have read, his schedule never accommodating or flexible enough for either these days. As a child, he had plenty of time to watch movies at his father’s country house, in part because he was alone, with no friends to play with for miles. His father’s encompassing collection of film and television swaddled him in the warmth of companionship, and that was fine.</div><div><br /></div><div>Trevor scrolled down the page. On the list of critical releases, <i>The Haunting at Haight and Ashbury</i> was number one, with a proud score of 92%. Critics raved that “its use of supernatural horror to emulate the fears of marginalized communities in gentrified urban areas was, bar none, the best use of the genre in decades.” It was an art film, celebrated at Cannes and lauded with a standing ovation lasting over twenty-eight minutes. Trevor frowned, as if excluded and oppressed, clicking through pictures of the cast and crew basking in waves of adulation, knowing that he would never be able to see the film. </div><div><br /></div><div>It was simple. </div><div><br /></div><div>He couldn’t watch horror films. </div><div><br /></div><div>They terrified him. </div><div><br /></div><div>Later that day, Trevor clocked out of work, leaving the office in the rearview mirror, and drove the long road home along PCH, all the way from Santa Monica to his ho-hum townhome in Oxnard. He thumped to the beat of his music at first, listened to true crime podcasts, then put on some music again, bleeding out the tedium in short bursts.</div><div> </div><div>At home, Trevor made some canned soup and slumped down into his couch, scrolling through social media as the TV played reruns, unattended.</div><div><br /></div><div>There were other horror movies that he had seen in his life, although most of them unwillingly. The fear they evoked was unsettling, despite knowing full well that ghosts and poltergeists were works of fiction. Yet something about them seemed more real than they appeared to be. He was religious, yes. And he did accommodate for the possibility of demons and angels walking amongst the living—alongside more acceptable things like God. He even considered the possibility that certain dreams he experienced in his youth were prognostications of his own belief in God coming to the fore, when demons tormented him in waking dreams. </div><div><br /></div><div>But ghosts? No chance. Not even a little bit. </div><div><br /></div><div>At 10:30 PM, Trevor turned off the TV, rolled off the couch, and walked to bed. </div><div><br /></div><div>Lying still, he pulled up Wikipedia on his phone and searched for the article on <i>The Haunting at Haight and Ashbury,</i> swiping down the page, reading the synopsis with rapt attention. Apparently, the story was an anthology, in four parts, each woven together by a larger narrative.</div><div><br /></div><div>Part one centered on a lesbian florist, Summer Gaines, in the early ’70s, who is tormented by the ghosts of Chinese laborers, whom her ancestors had contracted to build her family’s home but then, of course, refused to compensate. When they complained and threatened to go to the authorities, her great-great-grandfather had them killed, hiding their bodies in the masonry. Their hands, faces, and twisted forms, now a part of the house, take their vengeance on the florist. The finale includes the spirits interring her in the walls of the very house that entombed them, with no one to mourn her or place flowers on her grave. </div><div><br /></div><div>Part two, taking place in the late ’80s, is about a land developer, Patrick Martini, who buys the block of Masonic and Haight to turn it in to an open market. All the tenants are happy to sell, despite their appearance of being against it, and all succumb to the allure of wealth, except Esther, an aging Haitian woman who is accidentally killed by the thugs the man hires to harass and push her out of her home. The open market is built and brings prosperity to the aging district during the mid-’90s, except for the developer who is tormented by the zombie of Esther, raised by her estranged daughter, Zelda—who briefly dated Summer in the late ’60s. </div><div><br /></div><div>Trevor swiped downward, feeling the chill of the room on his neck.</div><div><br /></div><div>Part three, he reads, is about a landlord, Dominic Anselmo. In the fall of 2004, he raises the rent of a tenement—on the block of Ashbury and Waller—to capitalize on the recent gentrification of his already exclusive neighborhood. A single mother named Helen, with a sick child, is evicted from her impoverished apartment in the dead of winter and succumbs to hypothermia in the freezing rain. The child miraculously survives and is adopted by a gay couple, George and Hank Rafferty, in 2008. However, when they move into the newly refurbished apartments, they notice things compulsively misplaced, like a dish towel or a colander. Both the couple and the landlord, who are mutual friends, are tormented and stalked by the poltergeist of the woman, who wants her baby and home returned to her.</div><div>A creak in the walls halted Trevor from reading the final description.</div><div><br /></div><div>In the darkness of his room, Trevor leaned over to turn on the light at his bedside and thrust his billowy comforter over his head. He knew that ghosts weren’t real, that supernatural entities were the extant components of psychosis. Yet he could feel them in his room, the characters, made as real as the films he refused to see. A bedroom overcrowded with ghouls and killers, spirits and demons, abstracted from synopsis and recounted by film critics. Trevor tried to go to sleep and prayed for better dreams as the noise machine in his room faltered and skipped. </div><div><br /></div><p></p>StuartTheAuthorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05517500378556611697noreply@blogger.com0Buellton, CA 93427, USA34.613597 -120.19265056.3033631638211531 -155.3489005 62.923830836178844 -85.0364005tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-52652026265148726.post-17505021050283727082022-09-28T08:58:00.001-07:002022-09-28T08:58:14.752-07:00Vaccine Hesitancy and Seatbelts<p> I've been watching a lot of news lately, noticing how each network has it's own unique spin on events; some worse than others. I also recall reading <i>Numero Zero</i> by Umberto Eco, which very expertly undresses how tabloids, and media in general, modify our perceptions of the world through subliminal messaging. (Trust me, it's a lot more legit than it sounds, and less the tinfoil hat vibe I'm sure that last sentence read as.) With the help of Eco's work, I've been more active in my listening and digestion of television media. Reality TV is relentlessly scripted and contrived. News media, while, for the most part, built on the backs of honest reporters trying to maintain their integrity in a rapidly shifting world, is not innocent either. </p><p>I mention news because I was thinking about seatbelts. (Like how my mind works?) When seatbelts were mandated in the late 60s, early 70s, where were all the anti-belters crying out for blood? Would there have been an equally vitriolic reaction to Uncle Sam enforcing the wearing of seatbelts, if the news media was more like it was today? (That is, pandering to the partisan groups of either side.) I'm genuinely curious what you guys think about that. </p><p>Likewise, the shadow of doubt being cast over vaccines is equally concerning. As Patton Oswalt pointed out in his recent special, <i>Patton Oswalt: We All Scream, </i>Americans came out in droves to get the polio vaccine, in a time when the Conservative voice in America was just beginning to become amplified by the lamentable "Religious Right." It's funny to me, the flip flopping of Republicans, that they would identify as the "Grand Old Party", the party of Lincoln; the same president, mind you, that suspended the writ of Habeas Corpus during the Civil War and decisively solidified the supremacy of the federal powers to combat the treasonous Confederate States of America. It's probably the best, practical demonstration of the cyclical nature of history that I have encountered in recent memory. (I'm sure there are better ones, but that's just my opinion.)</p><p>We all agree that seatbelts save lives. It's been demonstrated time and time again by car crash data. </p><p>We all agree that vaccines save lives. Remember when you got polio? You didn't? It must have been that vaccine! </p><p> Anyways... I recently discovered a new news channel called <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Channel_4" target="_blank">"Channel 4"</a>, a British public service station (similar, maybe, to PBS). If you haven't heard of it, I recommend watching it, especially the coverage of the War in Ukraine. It's top notch reporting. </p>StuartTheAuthorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05517500378556611697noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-52652026265148726.post-19825568379234712432022-09-04T21:09:00.000-07:002022-09-04T21:09:25.175-07:00Colorado Recap and Bellyaches <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQopp52v66IVQASXZneFybCsCsrOxOcmlSWe-XrEzes-skgCvxP2IhmrwmjhKkpHck-72vuTvECAxTvPADmXozBbdQvvPiKknheRD0801zl0RsDjxyg0A9UzGUQMBmnFQ9MWM3NY_S-EqUyvwZ82FpICdA3bI5yYNxyMuh6hnM22SFpECmz3rrge8/s4032/IMG_3826.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQopp52v66IVQASXZneFybCsCsrOxOcmlSWe-XrEzes-skgCvxP2IhmrwmjhKkpHck-72vuTvECAxTvPADmXozBbdQvvPiKknheRD0801zl0RsDjxyg0A9UzGUQMBmnFQ9MWM3NY_S-EqUyvwZ82FpICdA3bI5yYNxyMuh6hnM22SFpECmz3rrge8/w300-h400/IMG_3826.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Outside the original location of Breckenridge Brewery.</td></tr></tbody></table><div><br /></div>While I was driving around in Colorado with my buddy, and wookie life-partner, Jared "Desmond" White, I saw a few strange things. <div><br /></div><div>While we drove through Aurora I saw two churches, one on each side of the street, and it preoccupied my thoughts for the rest of our trip out to Fairplay. (Originally the one-and-only South Park, Colorado!) This is problematic: the strange prevalence of churches. In my own time spent in purple and red states over the years, churches become something like Starbucks locations: places to consume palatable, current-culture approved Christianity. (Our consumerist and capitalist context we live in perpetuates this.) Ideally, Churches are meant to bless the community, and serve as conduits for the Kingdom work of God, but the presence of literally <i>dozens</i> of churches in a 5 mile radius makes me suspicious. </div><div><br /></div><div>(I later found out that one of these churches was a Baptist and the other was a Lutheran, so I was probably just being a prick.) </div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjFLvmeS6sEdn26s0KH1aaVX7R2QHDVgsMMVB-J-DBnGo-N3_dUSEUK9UT0ZEy7aCppkkGfF2hlaKiFVf28FHd7R7YHMTmqzQFqQ1DTqyS4E03-VhWlH23xlDXpo3ZfL-EhQzJOZTGHJN6KIPLtKwGk24bI7672tkHeTp0I4pXjd6dDfEWI8bQpl_E" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="889" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjFLvmeS6sEdn26s0KH1aaVX7R2QHDVgsMMVB-J-DBnGo-N3_dUSEUK9UT0ZEy7aCppkkGfF2hlaKiFVf28FHd7R7YHMTmqzQFqQ1DTqyS4E03-VhWlH23xlDXpo3ZfL-EhQzJOZTGHJN6KIPLtKwGk24bI7672tkHeTp0I4pXjd6dDfEWI8bQpl_E=w400-h225" width="400" /></a></div><br />The next day, we went to a brewery, which was hosting an event for the local chapter of the Log Cabin Republican party. (I had heard about the Log Cabin Republicans from various media sources, but seeing them in the wild was strange.) This genus of Republican is LGBTQ friendly. But, noting the pride flags everywhere across their booth, I also saw a handful of "Lets Go Brandon" stickers and other by-the-numbers propaganda sharing the space. (Jared insisted, gleefully, on vandalizing my Magic the Gathering cards with them while I wasn't looking. ) Two seemingly disparate ideologies hand in hand: a movement that very literally <i>prides</i> itself on open-mindedness, and inclusivity, and the other playing to the fears and ignorance of another reigning political ideology. </div><div><br /></div><div>Culture shock aside, Colorado wasn't all bad. It's the kind of Americana that I wouldn't mind transplanting to, given the right conditions. I very much enjoy the scenery and the general community vibe that comes across in each mountain town and municipality. The people there seem to know each other well enough. (I'm more suspicious of peoples' intentions than not, so you would have to go there and see it for yourself.) <br /><br />Also, it was fun to see Jared in his element, in a beautiful home to call his own. My god, they have a basement <i>and</i> a crawlspace? Imagine a bespoke, suburbia 3 bed, 2.5 bath home, but underneath it a dungeon full of nerd shit. "Someday," I tell myself.</div><div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEge3f2y5KnyKrfYNr4HOZVD88O6PNAdUcK79RuIPcDuBrbCPcb-JZJd8i6qqU1DSt3SwfNq7DXa8JNa8X60LI80emi6hjrs3IIzu5lck323MN5x4RQW6X9Rmn4l0ZnXn_CQ_--qQkN-LFkx9JidPsYMH763HPL6EXC0u-9b7figx9Qm66zXQlakOag/s4032/IMG_3838.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEge3f2y5KnyKrfYNr4HOZVD88O6PNAdUcK79RuIPcDuBrbCPcb-JZJd8i6qqU1DSt3SwfNq7DXa8JNa8X60LI80emi6hjrs3IIzu5lck323MN5x4RQW6X9Rmn4l0ZnXn_CQ_--qQkN-LFkx9JidPsYMH763HPL6EXC0u-9b7figx9Qm66zXQlakOag/s320/IMG_3838.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We got in a good game of Warhammer 40K while we were there!</td></tr></tbody></table></div>StuartTheAuthorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05517500378556611697noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-52652026265148726.post-4737801633556238182022-08-20T14:17:00.003-07:002022-08-20T14:17:52.483-07:00Why Does Homer go to Church?<p><br /></p><p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj47wE8CVhHI9skHUyjoiI7n_L6V5Qc3bcW6xXi-EklHSBg_LwBK1i4YOLIJID8DHcMwRnXDm1N7yRHWdJL7Jfx1nIOqu5wqIGqWlmrLa9gW6Cfl4wxLgYApGexmk5aLBZRitNSxTGAlSxQ7KAy_ljSZ5xdkIPTjHRCPPrB60YefgGU4vtevKFrPKA" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" data-original-height="225" data-original-width="300" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj47wE8CVhHI9skHUyjoiI7n_L6V5Qc3bcW6xXi-EklHSBg_LwBK1i4YOLIJID8DHcMwRnXDm1N7yRHWdJL7Jfx1nIOqu5wqIGqWlmrLa9gW6Cfl4wxLgYApGexmk5aLBZRitNSxTGAlSxQ7KAy_ljSZ5xdkIPTjHRCPPrB60YefgGU4vtevKFrPKA" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Homer discovers the meaning of life.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /></p><p> Why indeed?</p><p>I remember growing up with my dad dragging me to catholic mass, which in retrospect seemed like a weird exercise. (I don't say that to be mean, or disparaging to Catholics, who are ingrained to go to church quite a bit throughout the week.) I mean, why go when the heart isn't there? It's not like it changed his life, or sanctified him. </p><p>But this idea, going to church for the sake of going to church is endemic in culture, so much so that even <i>Homer Simpson</i> goes to church. </p><p>Who is Homer Simpson? I'm sure everyone at least kind of knows who he is. He's the distillation of the archetypal American man. He's a high-functioning alcoholic, who's bad at managing money, a single household income provider, and a negligent parent.</p><p> <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhyOp8N5lM8_aHKa0tdtgMLrCuEHb6hoWuQOoZ3-Jre0oIblBfliRbNWjTFVCLHkYFeontf6o7gmnw0GHPbkmo4FtR7nNxKMfnzjrwu0CXV8yX3vtvrLDVwxxNWCXTjHt06wVCU3j96k41nuLRNjAyptTCFzQ6e5V8t9uyZ4ITnxycy4RnwM1kKxik" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhyOp8N5lM8_aHKa0tdtgMLrCuEHb6hoWuQOoZ3-Jre0oIblBfliRbNWjTFVCLHkYFeontf6o7gmnw0GHPbkmo4FtR7nNxKMfnzjrwu0CXV8yX3vtvrLDVwxxNWCXTjHt06wVCU3j96k41nuLRNjAyptTCFzQ6e5V8t9uyZ4ITnxycy4RnwM1kKxik" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lovejoy with his model trains. </td></tr></tbody></table><br /></p><p>As far as I can tell, Homer is a protestant, possibly a Presbyterian, given the more traditional scaffolding at work in the ecclesiastical architecture of his church. His pastor, the Reverend Lovejoy, is a sardonic and depressed man (who's collar suggests that he could be a member of either the Lutheran, Methodist, Presbyterian, or Anglican traditions). And, as far as I can tell, all the advice he gives Homer and Marge, is tainted with by his own apathy and depression. The indications that he is just as lost as his flock, at least suggests that he is, in many ways, just like us.</p><p>But why does Homer go to church? </p><p>God is invoked a lot in <i>The Simpsons, </i>mostly as an antagonist that enjoys the torture of his servants. When Homer encounters the Theophany of God, he is usually an old man, the upper half of his body out of frame and never revealed. Like many Americans, Homer is exposed to an idea of God that is distant, abstracted, and unfamiliar. Homer, on occasion pleads with God for favor, but only when he is in need of something material, like most Americans, to be honest. </p><p>But why does Homer go to church? </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjXQoETyR9PljApXwWl5D42a1wg8GKW5vpwc0wKnny-mHAtqUq2houLch8ctzkwiLRwlr7P-ry5oxMTJhezdit5rChyOTmP6uSroPiVQfDzg8UlVbRFaowBG33pUFw-_uH4Em9Ohfm9L5Wqq7UGXhi-JiQP8_bFreCWGVI03wMbzwQEIeG_4uY7l5w" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="484" data-original-width="640" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjXQoETyR9PljApXwWl5D42a1wg8GKW5vpwc0wKnny-mHAtqUq2houLch8ctzkwiLRwlr7P-ry5oxMTJhezdit5rChyOTmP6uSroPiVQfDzg8UlVbRFaowBG33pUFw-_uH4Em9Ohfm9L5Wqq7UGXhi-JiQP8_bFreCWGVI03wMbzwQEIeG_4uY7l5w" width="317" /></a></div><br /><br /><p></p><p>My best guess at why Homer goes to church is that he assumes that going to church serves as a sacrament. (Even if he lacks the spiritual vocabulary to describe it as a "sacrament.") But going to church, I would say, is less about experiencing something that benefits "you" the attendee, but something that strengthens those around you. It's counter intuitive, to go to church to help someone else, but that is what is effectively happening. When Homer goes to church, he is not there to encourage Lenny, or empathize with Chief Wiggam, or unconditionally love Moe, but to punch a card for himself. "At least in "Homer the Heretic" (Season 4, Episode 3), Homer is saved by the very people he spurns, much to his chagrin, thus emphasizing the importance of church fellowship and community (at least implicitly).</p><p>The idea, though, that someone would go to Church "just because" eludes me. </p><p> It sounds like a colossal waste of time. </p>StuartTheAuthorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05517500378556611697noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-52652026265148726.post-75044353856559274302022-08-11T16:27:00.002-07:002022-08-11T16:27:25.754-07:00Remembering Norm Macdonald <p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEidJ2JEM0N-WzwULN1p-3sftxKT2FrneliSi7ZtpGr6HAVc3L_EQIyzJ3HzRmO2S0tb6d7-ikGUa6-LXUIJfiAR9kjGGdNpE99mmWD7egIHYlKsCRLdW-O47NVz3zgQ8HiixrvLpk6Lw7Yc1OuQBkA-q4C646EopigosrwiiWMt6j7aYEPWNjuLNEY" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="634" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEidJ2JEM0N-WzwULN1p-3sftxKT2FrneliSi7ZtpGr6HAVc3L_EQIyzJ3HzRmO2S0tb6d7-ikGUa6-LXUIJfiAR9kjGGdNpE99mmWD7egIHYlKsCRLdW-O47NVz3zgQ8HiixrvLpk6Lw7Yc1OuQBkA-q4C646EopigosrwiiWMt6j7aYEPWNjuLNEY=w199-h320" width="199" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #9f9f9f; font-family: "Open Sans", BlinkMacSystemFont, -apple-system, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Oxygen, Ubuntu, Cantarell, "Fira Sans", "Droid Sans", "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; letter-spacing: 0.25px; text-align: right;">Al Levine/NBCU Photo Bank/NBCUniversal via Getty Images</span></td></tr></tbody></table><br /> </p><p>My introduction to Norm Macdonald was split between old SNL reruns on Comedy Central and his movie “Dirty Work.” His delivery, which was so deadpan and blunt, evoked a personal courage that was so foreign to me. (And still is.) </p><p>When I found out that he died I felt crushed, like a piece of me was lost. Because so many talented people pass away into the oblivion of death and, despite every effort of their fans, eventually fade from memory. </p><p>Often when someone dies, I say to myself, “I hope you were saved,” because I honestly wanted to see them again someday. It’s a selfish desire, but I know that that person was created for God’s glory, and that they were blessed with talents that, like an artist’s signature, illustrate an aspect (or characteristic) of God. And when someone is facing death, their egos weaken and they re-evaluate the nature of the universe before they leave it. I hope that, someday, my own heroes will realize this, so that they can be in on the joke: that their magnitude was not for them, but for God. </p><p>I did find out though, after the fact, that Norm was a Christian. Or at least, that there was evidence that he was. (Because no one knows for sure, do they?) It brought me comfort knowing that after a lifetime of beholding the injustice of the world and speaking truth to that as a comedian, that Norm was finally with God and telling his jokes in his presence. That reality brings me hope, because we are not here to be great in our own right. We are here to be great and know that it is because of God that we are great. </p><p>I’ll catch you again, someday, Norm. Until then…</p><div><br /></div>StuartTheAuthorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05517500378556611697noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-52652026265148726.post-86474501677217812112022-08-08T15:45:00.003-07:002022-08-08T15:45:48.056-07:00Quick Update - AKA. Workin for a Living <p> What have I been doing lately? </p><p><br /></p><p>The better question is what haven’t I been doing?</p><p><br /></p><p>I’ve been working on a couple projects, which sounds exciting but one can only make so many announcements about that before it becomes just an excuse to be anti-social. </p><p><br /></p><p>The anthology expansion of Dynamic Synapse Protocol I am aiming to finish by the end of this year (famous last words, I know). It’s currently on hold for a paid gig that I am doing for my designer (and founder of ELECTI STUDIO), which has been super fun. It’s been a wonderful exercise in pulling my head out of my ass and dedicating time to something that isn’t so horribly ME. </p><p><br /></p><p>My daughter is starting kindergarten in a week, which seems a tad surreal. I’ll let you know how I feel about that once I’ve figured that out for myself. </p><p><br /></p><p>Lots of overtime, so much overtime. This will be my third week on oncall in a row. It’s set up so that we have to work one week once a quarter. I typically work about 8 weeks of the 14 week quarter to cover expenses. (Inflation is a bitch-and-a-half.)</p><p><br /></p><p>That’s all I have right now. Pray for my sanity. </p><p><br /></p><p>TTFN</p><iframe width="560" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/lcIK3akktLU" title="YouTube video player" frameborder="0" allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen></iframe><div><br /></div>StuartTheAuthorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05517500378556611697noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-52652026265148726.post-58186644905898010892021-12-20T08:00:00.001-08:002021-12-20T08:00:00.156-08:00An Object of Scorn<p><br /></p><p>Affixed to the altar before the apse was the cross. It’s edges were frayed, roughly hewn from quarter sawn timber long ago. The reclaimed piece was swollen and pocked with burls. Striations of discoloration, wrapping around the trunk, intimated the shape of a hobbled man, or a rot in the wood. Well-lit by the clerestory above the chancel, the cross was positioned prominently, as if basking. The carpenter had placed the cross there, shunting it into a notch in the ground, embroidered with mosaic tile. He cursed the splinters collected by his hands. </p><p>Over time, the basilica changed many hands, each flock with their own vice and preference. For a century or so, the cross absorbed bitterness and contention. In-fighting broke out across the aisles, until a meeting was convened to determine the spirit of their creed and what they said about their Lord. Most were satisfied by the outcome. At the end of it, the rich young ruler who ordered the meeting stepped forward and placed a thoughtful hand upon the hardened exterior, sensing great things ahead. </p><p>Not soon after, it was stained with blood. Buckets of coagulated sanguine absorbed into the sword-gouged trunk, bright red, before fading to purple and blue. Suffering abounded in the lands choked with smoke and ash, until a pragmatic flock emerged, resourceful enough to stifle the sickness of violence that seemed to infect the sullen, stagnant air. The cross was crowned with temporal power by the rich young ruler, but the gilded crown bore the likeness of a bad forgery. </p><p>New edicts were established regarding what the cross could and could not be. It took the aspect of many things. The cross was showered with wealth and abundance. Even the soft gold coins withered the cross’ face, bruising and softening the wood. Two attendants fought over the cross, for a time, until they conceded, finally, to a stalemate. Each mutually regarded one another with hate, their flocks diverging. They sat apart from one another, on either end of the cross. It stood between the camps, buffeted by anger and distain. After a time, the flocks relented, weary of the conflict, abandoning the refuse of entrails and sinew they had draped over the arms of the cross. The dawning light, emerging through the open portal in the narthex, exposed the rot. And members of both flocks returned to clean it as best they could. </p><p>The cross still stands there now, black as charcoal and steeped with dried blood. Some still approach, as if recognizing an old friend. Those that stay, marvel for a time and consider the carpenter that left it so many years ago. Those that depart, do so quickly, though not before dressing it in fashionable clothing, berating it, and covering it with semen and feces. The weight of shackles, handcuffs, bandoliers, braids of Ethernet cable, fascist flags dipped in gasoline, drape around its neck like a noose. There, on the altar, it stands: objectified by filth, defeated. </p><p>Yet, despite all this, the flock heaps their burdens upon it willingly. And they depart, each one, with a spring in their step. </p><div><br /></div>StuartTheAuthorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05517500378556611697noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-52652026265148726.post-35165024577057396702021-09-13T08:59:00.003-07:002021-09-13T08:59:37.329-07:00On Toxic Fans: A Correspondence with my Dad<iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/vnRP7SKzOgk" title="YouTube video player" width="560"></iframe><div><br /></div><div>The below is a response to my Dad about the above video he sent me. Incidentally it ended up being pretty good writing, so see below:</div><div><br /></div><div><div><b>Dad:</b></div><div><i></i></div></div><blockquote><div><div><i>Stu,</i></div><div><i> This is fairly good from a writer’s point of view? He seems to indicate that WOKE and PC may tend to diminish the worth of a worthy villain.</i></div><div><i>Dad</i></div></div><div></div></blockquote><div><br /></div><div><b>Me:</b></div><div><div></div><blockquote><div><i>Yeah, I definitely get the impression that he is a toxic fan. </i></div><div><i><br /></i></div><div><i>I mean with both characters he cites, Captain Marvel and Kylo Ren, both have been universally hated, but only by the people that grew up with Star Wars. They will cite that the prequels were better, remembering when they were 10 years old watching them. Likewise the older fans will say that the prequels sucked, again, remembering when they were 10 years old watching them. This is why I like Star Trek, because Star Wars is ultimately a franchise for children. Which isn't bad by any means, not at all. That's a good thing, because children need good fantasy and rudimentary moral models to go off of. (And the same goes for marvel movies.) But most of the best villains aren't really villains of all. You ought to read my book (if you haven't already) because I tried to draw up multiple villains while not really having them truly be villains. </i></div><div><i><br /></i></div><div><i>The Captain Marvel critique though gets old, if only because people are complaining exclusively because they have to root for a girl. As a father of a girl, I think that it's awesome that my daughter is getting likable heroes that have popular appeal. They did the same thing with "The Mighty Thor" who is Jane Foster (Natalie Portman's character from the first Thor movie), and people bitched about it in the comics, as they will likely do so when Thor 4 comes out. </i></div><div><i><br /></i></div><div><i>At the end of the day, no one seems to have any sense of awareness when it comes to these characters. The fans behave like children, because their peak enjoyment of the characters took place when they were children. Again, this is why I like Star Trek, because you don't truly appreciate it's message and substance until after you get pubes.</i></div></blockquote><div></div></div>StuartTheAuthorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05517500378556611697noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-52652026265148726.post-44476414002746503952021-08-24T18:41:00.004-07:002021-08-24T18:41:36.229-07:00Adulting in Peace<p> My life is slowly becoming that Dr. Manhattan meme, where the omnipresent, and nigh omniscient, super hero sits on the surface of Mars, contemplating his life with jagged simplicity. </p><p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJIJFYAu5pMEV7OU95MNx-HHFigPOkz1mQnwXVyHt4UII9zesF1LGgK0ac05cUYQiaCHzVOmY3BMyGpbUHVlm-7oh17pwLlkIw3QLanp5ERKPLz8h9kKU37xCb31tVI3p_Y18UAWQxew/s919/watch.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="919" data-original-width="588" height="674" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJIJFYAu5pMEV7OU95MNx-HHFigPOkz1mQnwXVyHt4UII9zesF1LGgK0ac05cUYQiaCHzVOmY3BMyGpbUHVlm-7oh17pwLlkIw3QLanp5ERKPLz8h9kKU37xCb31tVI3p_Y18UAWQxew/w432-h674/watch.JPG" width="432" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Behold, pretension!</td></tr></tbody></table></p><p>We've been in the throes of our first escrow, an entirely new process that I'm only beginning to understand. The byzantine disclaimers and addendums, compounded with legal aphorisms, wash over me like a salty wave that someone died in. Of course, I should be thankful. Owning property is a gift. And every gift is an opportunity for understanding and growth.</p><p>In all seriousness though, I had this strange moment of clarity, maybe 5 minutes ago. I was in the kitchen, hovering over a dissected crown of broccoli, realizing that my mind was characteristically "adult" in the moment. (Obviously, I've been an adult since I was 18, though even that status is symbolic in our highly specialized society.) I was watching myself move, as if in 3rd person, a weight resting on my shoulders that was altering the way I moved and behaved in that space. A similar moment happened in my 20s, when I signed my first lease to rent a town house (for the low, LOW price of $1000 per month). I was so scared and immobilized by the weight of rejection and the potential for failure. What if I couldn't handle it? What if I lost my job and, therefore, couldn't make the payments? I felt, in a way, hobbled by the immensity of the commitment, despite the fact that it was so mundane in hindsight.</p><p>Now I was standing over the cutting board, feeling secure and in control of my life. I was doing an "adult" thing and feeling characteristically "adult" about it. </p><p>I've said it before: the progression from a childlike mind to an adult one is less about the traversal of legal status and more of an epiphany that, you—yes, you—are in complete control of your decisions. (That is, as far as "mortal" control goes in the infinite and all powerful presence of God). When I was buying 3 six-packs of beer a week to self medicate my stress, I was a child, abdicating my right of control over my body and mind. Now, I'm making the conscious decision to be an adult and take the helm of my life, inasmuch as I can in light of God's will. </p><p>The apostle Paul kind of addresses this in 1 Corinthians: 11-12. And, in the context of the larger dialogue at work in the passage, as God renews our hearts through the work of the Holy Spirit, this peace that I feel will only grow, ultimately to resolve in my death and resurrection. And that, that is dope, my friends. </p><p></p><blockquote>"When I was a child, I spoke like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I gave up childish ways. For now we see in a mirror dimly, but then face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I have been fully known."</blockquote><p></p>StuartTheAuthorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05517500378556611697noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-52652026265148726.post-52486932762059111902021-07-23T16:31:00.004-07:002021-07-24T11:32:18.471-07:00Another Year Around the Sun <p> I am ready to leave work, go to the local brewery, and celebrate my Birthday. </p><p>(Yes, today is the day.)</p><p>The past few years, other than my 30th, were not very fun. Or they were riddled with depression. Or the looming threat of being old, yet unaccomplished, weighed on me. Not so this year, I am happy to report. </p><p>I'm not sure why things have changed. I'm as old as Jesus was when he went to the cross for the world, which would make light of any of our accomplishments, big or small. That alone could be the reason for my paradoxical contentment, but I don't feel like it is. I released a book in hardcover this year: also a big accomplishment. Still, it's not as big a brag as it sounds. (In fact, it's deceptively easy.) </p><p>This year is different in ways I never expected, and it's because I feel like I'm no longer a kid. </p><p>I am becoming less aware of "age." I'll find out that a co-worker is actually in his mid 40s, when I thought they were my age. We act how old we want to be, which is a lauded trait among our aging boomers. This charming deception gives me social mobility, where I previously didn't. Instead of the need to "impress" my elders, I am collaborating with my peers. </p><p>Hopefully I can avoid the pitfalls of other unequal alignments though. Like, it's sad to see a child acting like an adult. Youth and joy has it's purpose. A child that works in a coal mine, or emancipates themselves when they are 14, loses the freedom to explore hobbies and ideas ahead of their adulthood. Likewise, it's sad to see a 50 year old acting like they are 20. Age carries with it a quiet, established dignity that inspires others. It's a responsibility that we all should feel inclined to take part in. (I.e. help your kids plan for the future. Be their roadmap. Don't fuck off to Coachella, forget to pay your rent, and then get angry when your "van-life" kids make a mess of you're apartment while you're away.) </p><p>Concerning the above, I would wager confidently the reason I am so happy is because I where I'm supposed to be. That's enough, right? </p><p>I sure hope so. I've already printed t-shirts for merch!</p><p>(No, I haven't.)</p><p><br /></p><p> </p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>StuartTheAuthorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05517500378556611697noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-52652026265148726.post-28310072836912036382021-06-03T16:30:00.005-07:002021-06-05T10:00:31.222-07:00Working Inside is Weird<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjerd-PgXwVrrQPlPuMyTr0fkQBAc5Lv6e4wjCXTYt51z2lgz55SaBCNkDqpG0Qt6GZxoebWPjPi7qmSci2uwNUQ_eKqTsWzwmevvkDK3iLK0LuFXRgIw6kOt0Q93i1Qfn1lZ1fYtRNDA/s2048/IMG_1745.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjerd-PgXwVrrQPlPuMyTr0fkQBAc5Lv6e4wjCXTYt51z2lgz55SaBCNkDqpG0Qt6GZxoebWPjPi7qmSci2uwNUQ_eKqTsWzwmevvkDK3iLK0LuFXRgIw6kOt0Q93i1Qfn1lZ1fYtRNDA/s320/IMG_1745.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My desk at work.</td></tr></tbody></table><div><br /></div>This past week I have been working inside the office for a couple consecutive days for the first time since the pandemic started. This was primarily due to my wife going on a camping trip with her dad, leaving me to fend for myself with Eowyn. The thought of driving by myself was terrifying. (Around this time last year I had a really bad anxiety attack while I was driving.) But, despite some close calls and a stashed emergency Klonopin, I got through it. <div><br /></div><div>Don't we always?</div><div><br /></div><div>Sitting in the office, the loudest thing I hear is the sound of the HVAC fans running. The keys beneath my finger tips are deafening. No weird neighbors next door, arguing over dumb shit that doesn't matter. No homeless couples bickering up and down the street. Just the fans. </div><div><br /></div><div>I miss the office. </div>StuartTheAuthorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05517500378556611697noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-52652026265148726.post-68646101922660007162021-05-04T09:08:00.000-07:002021-05-04T09:08:15.262-07:00Ode To a Shitty Burger<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMzPduorFB0qcsLM3DGrOZldXVFPkwi6yMg0rOw712phXr6b9KKmIUlTUOw4oOv9GkiT3JSMTifBwAejXAG7DjwY3zAcPA7AZKHy_Diyw0bftoSvZTaOd5xjamhxkag-Fbqv2mR8r-tw/s2048/Burger.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="2048" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMzPduorFB0qcsLM3DGrOZldXVFPkwi6yMg0rOw712phXr6b9KKmIUlTUOw4oOv9GkiT3JSMTifBwAejXAG7DjwY3zAcPA7AZKHy_Diyw0bftoSvZTaOd5xjamhxkag-Fbqv2mR8r-tw/w400-h400/Burger.jpg" title="*Chef's Kiss* "Mwah!"" width="400" /></a></div>I like burgers. <p></p><p>I like large burgers. I like sliders. I like pigs-in-blankets. I like hoagies. I like pulled pork sandwiches. I like ruebens, cubans, and breakfast sandwiches. </p><p>I like, really, anything with two slices of bread and a piece of meat in the center. It's primal and debasing to hold a burger and try to eat it as, like a collapsing star, it disintegrates into a slurry of deliciousness. Growing up, I would get a burger before getting my allergy shots for bee venom, convinced that the meat in my belly made me impervious to pain. What a ludicrous conclusion! But a serviceable salve to ease my fear of needles. Burgers were my answer to most of all life's problems when I was 6 years old. Today, they still kind of are.</p><p>Burgers, like friends, are fickle. Not all burgers are created equal. Some burgers disappoint and demoralize. Some even betray you. They illustrate the lie of consumerism and the commodification of once sacred and immutable things. Like a life of watching porn and encountering sex for the first time with another human being, eating a Carls Jr. <i>Six Dollar Burger</i> illuminates the hyperreality of bread, meat, cheese and vegetables advanced in the fictional ad space, while what is unwrapped in soggy wax paper is the cold truth: that all of us have been lied to. The burger today, indeed, does has a true referent, but it exists elsewhere, far from any motor oil encrusted strip-mall parking lot.</p><p>The <i>shitty </i>burger is the aesthetic product of many components. Down the street from my apartment, there is a decaying fast food chain, local to the Santa Barbara area. The reviews online are as abyssal and empty as the employees that absently attend the greasy kitchen griddle, and food poisoning is alleged all too frequently in that virtual space. The dinning room is always empty. Aging CRT televisions are void of light and sound. Vending machines contain stale baubles, forgotten behind scratched, hazy plastics. The employee that takes your order is tense and on edge. The fact that you are there in this solemn place is an act of violence. The order will most surely be incorrectly filled, but out of kindness you feign ignorance. The truth behind the <i>shitty</i> burger is the commiseration found in consuming it. The thin, dry patties are ingested under the wan light of a desk lamp in solitude and shame. In eating it, you have contributed to institutional racism and, simultaneously, are now emboldened to end it. </p><p>I would disagree with the post-modernists that we have lost the true referent, what I refer to as the <i>proto-burger.</i> Just like the desolation which attends the <i>shitty </i>burger, the <i>proto-burger</i> is a sum of harmonious parts. Just as the fresh cut tomatoes, the grilled onions, the chilled lettuce, and ground sirloin unify to achieve mythic synergy, so people also gather around charcoal grills on lazy Saturday afternoons to experience unshakable community. At the checkered picnic table, people of all kinds and creeds have the opportunity to experience the original and incorruptible authenticity of the <i>proto-burger.</i> And, like waking from a bad dream, the memory of the <i>shitty</i> burger fades, ultimately to nothing, thereby allowing only the knowledge of the <i>proto-burger</i> to endure. </p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p> </p><p><br /></p>StuartTheAuthorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05517500378556611697noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-52652026265148726.post-59991588913899443412021-03-25T10:15:00.000-07:002021-03-25T10:15:52.330-07:00"Oncoming Traffic" By Stuart Warren <p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFGNbf5JhKNaDiuar6g0O3ls385WvqUAbIc_LgZb3kjgA3M5gYQ4_fe21b7ZgBFehZMevH4LzdEgt08zOddCvEVpD2jpGtMA0rMzxU4e_CTvf1hCav5yvq-AqoUkB384ttCyClnHEgJg/s960/oncomed.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="960" height="338" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFGNbf5JhKNaDiuar6g0O3ls385WvqUAbIc_LgZb3kjgA3M5gYQ4_fe21b7ZgBFehZMevH4LzdEgt08zOddCvEVpD2jpGtMA0rMzxU4e_CTvf1hCav5yvq-AqoUkB384ttCyClnHEgJg/w451-h338/oncomed.png" width="451" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal">There was traffic on West 580, right in front of the Richmond-San
Rafael Bridge. </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Traffic rarely happens. When it does, it usually inspires
fascination, even wonder. <span style="background-color: white;">The passing traffic</span> does not stop. Motorists <span style="background-color: white;">spying</span>
in the moments between moments. Life oncoming, then gone.</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">This time was different though.</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">There were two cars hedged off to the right shoulder: a 2038
Tesla sedan and a 2018 Honda Civic. The rear crush points on the Tesla were
pancaked—what remained of the<span style="background-color: white;"> trunk space, </span>mostly gone. I glanced out of my
window and saw the two drivers in a heated fight, a paramedic between them with
her hands up. A police officer was dragging a dumbbell set—ejected from the
trunk of the Civic—off the center lanes while we waited.</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">By 2028, most of the Bay Area was autonomous. By 2032, the
rest of the state followed. The current<span style="background-color: white;"> Administration </span>established a buy-out
program for manual-pilot autos, encouraging the conversion. But, among the
millions, a small minority held out. Mostly older men, and a younger generation
galvanized by passionate rhetoric to retain their “right-to-drive.” When
accidents happened, it always involved a manual-pilot car. There would be a
highlight on the evening news—national coverage if the collision was big
enough.</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The Civic’s owner was red in the face with anger, spittle
ejecting from her mouth. It wasn’t about the car. She stood her ground. This
would be on camera, the pavement her stage. Ten-thousand talking heads
explaining the nuance of car ownership, the “right-to-drive.”</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">It was something we debated at work, before our managers
would step in to re-establish office etiquette. At church, I would argue the
nuance of scripture, how the church adjusted for cultural changes, while others
flatly denied my points, on the basis of free will and choice. In school
districts some advocated—think of the children, they would say—for manual-pilot
school busses, that it was unconscionable to entrust students to the cold will
of the onboard intelligence.</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">But as passionate and antiquated the logic was, we all knew
that 94% of auto-accidents involved manual-pilot vehicles. 100% of all
autonomous cars were zero-emission, and manufactured by carbon neutral
companies. Average commute time was lowered by 30% as the speed limit was
raised by 25% across the western United States.</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The police officer signaled to the line of stopped cars to
proceed after a few minutes. I cracked open my book and thumbed to the page
where I left off, feeling the pull of my body into the seat, the scene disappearing
from view.</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Where 580 merged with 101 North,<span style="background-color: white;"> brake lights crept up along
the frontage road</span>. <o:p></o:p></p>StuartTheAuthorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05517500378556611697noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-52652026265148726.post-463163490701661972021-01-10T12:56:00.000-08:002021-01-10T12:56:02.074-08:00Respecting The Stillness<p> About the middle of the week during the so-called "protest" held at the Capitol building in Washington DC, I deleted Facebook and Twitter from my phone. It was just too much. The rest of the week's news was carefully filtered through messages delivered via Facebook messenger by writer, and fellow wookie life partner, <a href="https://desmondwrite.com/" target="_blank">Desmond</a> White. They were mostly memes and updates about the ongoing certification of President-Elect Biden's win of the 2020 election. After all, humor disarms, and Desmond has enough of it to be awarded an honorary black belt in Judo. </p><p>It was quiet though, after the apps were gone. My mind was at peace. No notification dings. No wild Facebook threads of frantic, hateful people declaring their opinions. Pure silence. I had forgotten what that felt like. I <i>grew up</i> with it. </p><p>I was a part of the generation that first experienced common and widespread use of the internet. The internet that we know of today, at least. The kind with browsers and websites that shared videos and files. The kind that had Altavista for web searching and <a href="https://knowyourmeme.com/memes/sites/general-mayhem" target="_blank">General Mayhem</a> for whatever disgusting thing 4chan currently is. The "small device" didn't really exist yet. I didn't have a cell phone or iPod until I was in middle school. I didn't get my first iPhone until after I had graduated college (2012, maybe?), though, in all fairness, I had resisted getting one just because the carrier plans were so expensive. I'm sure there's no true correlation, but it was a little after getting the phone that I got my first major panic attack. </p><p>The idea of being constantly connected is both a blessing and a curse. I can't even express in words the convenience a cell phone affords when your car breaks down. During the pandemic, we can facetime with our parents and grandparents. Yeah, I know it's not ideal, but it's something at least! The increased distance we place between ourselves is problematic though. And there's a price to pay for being always connected. The speculative cyberpunk tv series, Ghost in the Shell: Stand Alone Complex, features an episode (S1E11) about a government-run, social welfare facility, where patients are treated for Cyberbrain Closed Shell Syndrome. TLDR, it's a sickness that afflicts those who can't break away from the internet and it's communities. Disconnecting a patient being treated for the sickness causes them to become violent, withdrawn, paranoid, depressed, comatose, or incapable of interacting with people for prolonged periods. Obviously the illness is creative hyperbole, with no true equivalent in the world. "Doomscrolling" and "shitposting" hardly compares, but the constant connection to Facebook and other social media websites already affects how we see the world and our attitudes towards others. </p><p>Now comes the weird part. How do I tweet/post/gram when I don't have these apps on my phone any more? Not very easily I guess... If I had to chose between my health and leveraging social media to tell people about my books, I'm obviously siding with the former. So, this will be an interesting next few weeks as I launch my third book and connect with people about it. Please be patient with me as I adjust. </p><p>Here's to a better, healthier 2021!</p><p><br /></p><p> </p><p> </p>StuartTheAuthorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05517500378556611697noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-52652026265148726.post-42343803635985332762020-12-13T18:29:00.003-08:002020-12-13T18:29:24.823-08:00Twofaced Politicians and Jarls and Bishops Only Want One Thing... <p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkhKRVddn6T4o8IkLjppNnvRQVqJfh4DQoIHjWhcs6Zf2vyb5zbDeud9NoFmDRloGXMZuigE4n_Y7awiJoOQ3v52v2iUKqBfr0tznHNhDl8wAm0fXQ7-cKajDJwway7HE-YICaCqZoRg/s1400/Screen_Shot_2020_04_29_at_4.07.56_PM.0.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="933" data-original-width="1400" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkhKRVddn6T4o8IkLjppNnvRQVqJfh4DQoIHjWhcs6Zf2vyb5zbDeud9NoFmDRloGXMZuigE4n_Y7awiJoOQ3v52v2iUKqBfr0tznHNhDl8wAm0fXQ7-cKajDJwway7HE-YICaCqZoRg/w400-h266/Screen_Shot_2020_04_29_at_4.07.56_PM.0.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-size: 11.5pt;">One of the things that
I've struggled with when it comes to Christianity is it's sordid history when
it comes to ecclesiastical structures. How could the common man come to know
Jesus with all the elements seemingly against them? (Bad theology, no access to
vernacular translations of the bible, endemic/systemic corruption, to name a
few.) Because, if you are protestant, the implied answer is, "none."
But that's a gross simplification and—arguably—blasphemous truncation of God's
power to save and preserve his people, regardless of time period and reigning
zeitgeist.</span></p><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgexfqEmaX76D5tEgf4VQI2G5mtOysGZMLNL2bAjWUNKXSVLpUHNV24O1ZYf8S_0qtfD7kfC7tnhPwvN2AYTBgqJzHAtMNrY4ToHIXhC9R-UyF2bhdV3Gh71MO7YzoVlJI7wFD8tCX9Hg/s1920/philippe-routhier-philipperouthier-acvalhalla-oxen-379-roman-0003.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1155" data-original-width="1920" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgexfqEmaX76D5tEgf4VQI2G5mtOysGZMLNL2bAjWUNKXSVLpUHNV24O1ZYf8S_0qtfD7kfC7tnhPwvN2AYTBgqJzHAtMNrY4ToHIXhC9R-UyF2bhdV3Gh71MO7YzoVlJI7wFD8tCX9Hg/w400-h240/philippe-routhier-philipperouthier-acvalhalla-oxen-379-roman-0003.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A good example of the roman architecture being absorbed by the landscape. </td></tr></tbody></table><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-size: 11.5pt;"><br /></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white;"><span style="color: #050505; font-family: "inherit",serif; font-size: 11.5pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe UI Historic"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Recently I read an
essay by Umberto Eco named "On the Shoulders of Giants" (coined from
Bernard of Chartes's quote "We are dwarfs on the shoulders of giants.")
Eco’s general thesis is that there is a productive tension between the past and
present. Innovators spurn the past, invoking a "newer is better"
philosophy, but willfully ignore the shoulders of the "giants" they
stand upon (that is, the great thinkers of the past). I see this concept
playfully imagined in <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Assassin’s Creed:
Valhalla</i> which presents a pseudo-historical recreation of Anglo-Saxon
England, and the multicultural landscape of the time. The game itself, developed
by Ubisoft Montreal, evokes the impression that it was heavily researched and
painstakingly developed to render the world faithfully. Most impressive, is the
haunting ruins that scatter the world map, which the developing nation-states
occupy. Unlike Eco’s essay, the denizens of this medieval Britain, live in the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">shadows</i> of giants, with their “modern”
cities, parodies by comparison to the enduring roman infrastructure that are
still serviceable some 800 years after their construction. Christianity is portrayed
how I would expect it to be rendered in a AAA action rpg, though, to the game
designer’s credit, the primary theological objective is to explore the
mythology of Asgard and the eschatological conclusion of Ragnarök.</span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnjLweAAhnB0ZMbf31jlmCAKLChr2WsSRpzy43lBmS2hDl6esaWh1McAoLCAvIR83TqlTHO-jeh8IjthSP94M2m5gylwuaWR_vCg8BwnAoqGC255e3ixi4fX6CFdbPtlXmJfapbM8Epw/s2048/vf.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1152" data-original-width="2048" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnjLweAAhnB0ZMbf31jlmCAKLChr2WsSRpzy43lBmS2hDl6esaWh1McAoLCAvIR83TqlTHO-jeh8IjthSP94M2m5gylwuaWR_vCg8BwnAoqGC255e3ixi4fX6CFdbPtlXmJfapbM8Epw/w400-h225/vf.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of the abbeys (I forget which) built around a roman aqueduct.</td></tr></tbody></table><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white;"><span style="color: #050505; font-family: "inherit",serif; font-size: 11.5pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe UI Historic"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">All this to say, after
the 77 hours I’ve put into this game so far, I realized that there was a
striking resemblance between the bishops and jarls of Anglo-Saxon England and
our modern politicians here in the United States, especially those that espouse
a belief in Christianity. The development of Christianity, unfortunately
coinciding with the fall of the Roman Empire, begat structures and
organizational practices out of necessity, with ecclesiastical institutions
filling the vacuum. Modern American conservatism lies to us and says that “things
used to be better”, when the reality is less impressive: everything is still
the same. People die and fuck and instigate conflict and oppress without pause,
and will continue to until Jesus comes back. And, while, this might seem a
trivial realization, I found it oddly comforting. If the televangelists and
politicians of today equate to our previously mentioned bishops and jarls, then
the typical, ordinary believer of today, likewise, existed.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white;"><span style="color: #050505; font-family: "inherit",serif; font-size: 11.5pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe UI Historic"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Because of the well-designed
world presented by <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Valhalla,</i> I can
reasonably imagine a man living in a hamlet beside a river, concerned with his
crops and animals. He takes a wife, has a few children, only one or two
surviving to adolescence. The village <br />is threatened on occasional by lawless
thugs or journeying Vikings. Otherwise, against this backdrop and the changing seasons,
the Church existed. People were forgiven and baptized, listened to the priest
and took communion, just like they did today. No one wrote books about their
unimpressive lives, whereas the conniving abbots and deceitful kings endured in
memory because their status in society afforded them biographers and notaries.
So, it’s comforting, in a weird way, I guess.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white;"><span style="color: #050505; font-family: "inherit",serif; font-size: 11.5pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe UI Historic"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Thank you, Lord, that the
world is boring.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZqX5lVFbYx5XL1iYzEBkWguzX4t49V4Yb0vO6ZqwlCyN2djnrdPF64n7V2oUdED44KA7pbxBY9T6jeUCaop1f3Cpn6MEICC53VAe3tMhC7x_B4BycRcZ3cTj0qYk5x29eYAt47mRMTA/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZqX5lVFbYx5XL1iYzEBkWguzX4t49V4Yb0vO6ZqwlCyN2djnrdPF64n7V2oUdED44KA7pbxBY9T6jeUCaop1f3Cpn6MEICC53VAe3tMhC7x_B4BycRcZ3cTj0qYk5x29eYAt47mRMTA/" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Urnes Stave Church: Built in 1129 in Norway. </td></tr></tbody></table></p>StuartTheAuthorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05517500378556611697noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-52652026265148726.post-2354561258605733152020-10-31T11:45:00.001-07:002020-10-31T11:45:30.451-07:00Thoughts on The Witcher 3 And RPG Story-Telling In General<p> While I'm almost certain that others have documented this I was thinking about interactive storytelling in the context of playing video games, specifically western RPGs. (I have little experience with Japanese RPGs so I won't be covering that here.) </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheBd0FIY9DcVRnoaRw-2BuaH7JLDweNgfldIlV0Gzwjk2bz-tOBTzJKr5T6Vy8fhD6gNsbBmcyZgYVDIcUhMdNAMrLCRTruoPEmOHL-NX5qInyfudXeuUsE_gcc1PR-q_ByWJa78GhOw/s870/goose.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="870" data-original-width="620" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheBd0FIY9DcVRnoaRw-2BuaH7JLDweNgfldIlV0Gzwjk2bz-tOBTzJKr5T6Vy8fhD6gNsbBmcyZgYVDIcUhMdNAMrLCRTruoPEmOHL-NX5qInyfudXeuUsE_gcc1PR-q_ByWJa78GhOw/w285-h400/goose.JPG" width="285" /></a></div><p>There's been examples of "choose your own journey" storytelling already in printed media. When I was a kid, R.L. Stine (of <i><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Goosebumps" target="_blank">Goosebumps</a> </i>fame), introduced a new line of books called <i><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Give_Yourself_Goosebumps" target="_blank">Give Yourself Goosebumps</a>, </i>where you could explore a book with branching plots. Generally you would read the book and then flip around the pages at certain points, guided by the spooky editor to continue the branching plot. The limitation of course is that the overall plot length was not very long, as far as total time spent reading. Honestly, I never read one to completion. I wasn't much of a reader until High School. However, I would see them all the time at my library when I was in elementary school, and flipping through them, enjoyed the concept more so than the content. </p><p>Similar to my love of reading, my love for western RPGs didn't bloom until high school as well. The first one I remember playing was <i><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Star_Wars:_Knights_of_the_Old_Republic" target="_blank">Star Wars: Knights of the Old Republic</a>,</i> which had a variety of choices in game that would determine various future plot points. At the end of the game, you could even choose an "evil" or "good" ending! Likewise, <i><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Vampire:_The_Masquerade_%E2%80%93_Bloodlines" target="_blank">Vampire: The Masquerade – Bloodlines</a> </i>also had branching storylines and alternate endings based off of decisions in game with various factions. (Still one of my favorites!) Of course, nowadays, games can have upwards of 20 different endings due to the level of resources made available by AAA studios. And this is where <i><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Witcher_3:_Wild_Hunt" target="_blank">The Witcher 3</a></i> comes in to play. For those unaware of the franchise, <i>The Witcher 3: Wild Hunt, </i>is a western fantasy RPG developed by Polish game studio, <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/CD_Projekt#CD_Projekt_Red" target="_blank">CD Projekt Red</a>. The game is based on <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Witcher" target="_blank">the fantasy novel series</a> of the same name, by <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Andrzej_Sapkowski" target="_blank">Andrzej Sapkowski</a>. The game takes place after the events of the books. Following a witcher named Geralt of Rivia, who is a tradesmen dealing in monster killing, royal body-guarding, and general mercenary work. For a general review of the game, <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uRlrHj9im7A" target="_blank">see here.</a></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQ4Kap0uc8Y_dPAWu1FtXXrJQZYKKI3vyqk4W_C8bRhIw86E5wqbvIOGIQMo0vLz6tDIEUiQfK0XL1bbDujrX2J4NRDXqWCX-hxbP78TtDiJ-C_sI_QihAYXch1DXPPyKqF3XuEfCpvQ/s869/w3.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="549" data-original-width="869" height="253" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQ4Kap0uc8Y_dPAWu1FtXXrJQZYKKI3vyqk4W_C8bRhIw86E5wqbvIOGIQMo0vLz6tDIEUiQfK0XL1bbDujrX2J4NRDXqWCX-hxbP78TtDiJ-C_sI_QihAYXch1DXPPyKqF3XuEfCpvQ/w400-h253/w3.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><p>Before I explain why I like <i>The Witcher 3's</i> general approach to storytelling, I should explain how most western RPGs depict their characters. Most feature protagonists that begin as blank slates with varying levels of cosmetic customization (from clothing to physical appearance). A smaller number feature fully developed characters that the player enters into to vicariously experience a narrative. <i>(The Witcher 3</i> utilizes the latter model.) After this point, western RPGs will excel or flounder depending on the degree of immersion the simulated game environments generate. Most games can succeed if the character design and world design are adequate, but its the narrative pieces that string the player along for 60+ hours of gameplay. </p><p>Western RPGs simulate both standalone novels and serialized fiction because they capture multiple narratives contained in a greater world. A grand quest line can last up to 20 hours, simulating a novel, whereas one off requests and adventures serve as short fiction set in a larger conceptual world. Specifically, what I like about Geralt's character in <i>The Witcher</i> series, is that his life experiences accommodate the variety of in-game situations and dialogue choices that guide the progress of the game. Oftentimes, western RPGs feature a narrow subset of dialogue choices during play. These amount to A) good, B) bad, C) irreverent, and D) neutral. The intention of using these options is to give the character freedom to interact with the world and its characters, but they are arbitrary at best and functionally limited. Geralt's life experiences are varied enough that we can believe his responses to actions in-game. Not only that, but Geralt is an imperfect character, and his responses can vary between forgiving and capricious, with far reaching consequences for his actions. For example, Geralt has an opportunity at one point in the game to overthrow a nefarious king. The ability to do so is determined by whether or not Geralt assaults a non playable character several hours before the plot point opens up. And it's crushing to have the opportunity to end an evil king's reign, only to be stonewalled later on.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhm_lcJ4-qyzuU76gKPZumJi8AK9PUxO9fKb-rCWmXr7FsmncEZTQg9Rufv1H4v_iXpCD4lB4p7FgO_sziges7hBzNxMdRxd2dpyhpR9IuGcmv5IgnNttmuKvwIRqi2g84PNhM4DUKOPg/s1920/witch.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhm_lcJ4-qyzuU76gKPZumJi8AK9PUxO9fKb-rCWmXr7FsmncEZTQg9Rufv1H4v_iXpCD4lB4p7FgO_sziges7hBzNxMdRxd2dpyhpR9IuGcmv5IgnNttmuKvwIRqi2g84PNhM4DUKOPg/w400-h225/witch.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><p>It's a weird thing to ponder the illusion of choice in games because it's all scripted ahead of time. But I like the concept of an interactive novel. It appeals to me as a greater form of storytelling, offering immersion that just isn't possible with conventional storytelling methods. </p>StuartTheAuthorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05517500378556611697noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-52652026265148726.post-74326703974419673232020-10-27T21:29:00.003-07:002020-10-30T08:45:54.419-07:00Talking with My Dad about Fact-Checking<p><br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxxx6u6E5iej4gOftrjiLV4p5vuVwJlJrw-CnodEifvmy3j2ahh5nSO7tVGXTX2FFdVrdchV7Jjp-HvZ8SUQb3InaIYMDGOJ6tE9aipwGO86Wu9u3uTK_aVIpql5I7hRVlYFyLCCbAbw/s960/dad+bro.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="717" data-original-width="960" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxxx6u6E5iej4gOftrjiLV4p5vuVwJlJrw-CnodEifvmy3j2ahh5nSO7tVGXTX2FFdVrdchV7Jjp-HvZ8SUQb3InaIYMDGOJ6tE9aipwGO86Wu9u3uTK_aVIpql5I7hRVlYFyLCCbAbw/s320/dad+bro.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My dad and my brother at a BBQ back in 2013.</td></tr></tbody></table><p>The other day I was emailing my dad an article that <i>The New York Times</i> put out <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/live/2020/10/22/us/fact-check-debate-trump-biden?action=click&module=Spotlight&pgtype=Homepage&fbclid=IwAR1LhL4PUjs7TOkbptKhBUYWWuydK-dCqbCwlEzTvKQCMJQfkM4NgzsTOtY" target="_blank">which fact checked the final presidential debate</a> from this past week. My dad's response, was more or less what I expected:</p><p></p><blockquote>The NY Times is long known to be a left of center publication. Hence their reporting reflects their acknowledged philosophic points of view. The Times “fact checkers" are only preaching to the choir. The “fact checkers” are hired by the Times. Would these folks opine contrary to the Times editorial board and expect to remain employed? Do you actually believe the Times would publish opinions that are not congruent with the established editorial opinions of the paper? It would be the similar if I sent you an article from the “Federalist” or from Fox News. Both data sources have an ax to grind. </blockquote><p>My dad is very conservative, having been a devotee of Rush Limbaugh and Dr. James Dobson for most of his adult life, although the above was much softer than his usual assessment of the current political climate. What I found interesting was his position: the relationship between a paper's policy bias and its inherent "truthfulness" changes depending on the observer's own political alignment. Someone who is "liberal" would praise the <i>Times</i> for its desire to "uncover the truth;" whereas, someone who is "conservative" would cynically claim that the fact checkers were hired in bad faith. (I mention these in quotes to emphasize the relative absurdity each designation has attracted over the past few decades.) Of course, the reality is somewhere in the middling grayness. For instance, I would opine that most of what Fox News puts out on their network are news stories with an original spirit of truth, but filtered through a lens that confirms the biases of their viewership. The original story may actually be factual, but the interpretation detracts from the "truthfulness" of the presented story, to such a degree that the final result is no longer true. I think this goes the same for other news outlets on the left side of the isle, though to a lesser degree. In this instance, the final story still retains the original "truthfulness," but now is veneered with a layer of interpretation that deviates from the original meaning of the story. </p><p>To illustrate the ways this can happen, I have prepared an example meant to be an objective description (hypothetical of course) of events. (Remember though, true objectivity is impossible, regardless of viewpoint.)</p><p></p><blockquote><p><i>Statement A) </i></p><p>Today, at 5pm, a protest occurred in downtown Los Angeles. Joe Smith, Professor of Black Studies at UCLA, organized the event to bring awareness to a recent event where Black suspects were detained and suffered injuries. After 2 hours, a fight broke out between protestors and counter-protestors. The police were called in response leading to the arrests of 3 protestors and 2 counter-protestors. </p></blockquote><p></p><p>Typically, journalism reports the above and adds subsequent commentary to interpret the event. So a Fox News newscaster may include additional commentary on top of Statement A to create an entirely new Statement B:</p><p></p><p></p><blockquote><p></p><p><i>Statement B) </i></p><p></p><p>Today, at 5pm, a<span style="color: #2b00fe;"><b> student</b></span> protest occurred in downtown Los Angeles. Joe Smith, Professor of Black Studies at UCLA, organized the event to bring awareness to a recent event where Black suspects were detained <span style="color: #2b00fe;"><b>after resisting arrest</b></span> and suffered injuries. After 2 hours <span style="color: #2b00fe;"><b>of what local business owners described as complete chaos</b></span>, a fight broke out between protestors and counter-protestors <span style="color: #2b00fe;"><b>wearing MAGA campaign clothing</b></span>. The police were called in response leading to the arrests of 3 protestors and 2 <span style="color: #2b00fe;"><b>injured</b></span> counter-protestors. </p></blockquote><p></p><p></p><p>The above adds additional descriptive information that, while technically true, distorts the original meaning of the information. The addition of "student" will delegitimize the protestors as being politically immature. The addition of "after resisting arrest" justifies the injuries sustained to the detained men. The addition of color commentary from eyewitnesses charges the event with subjective emotional energy. The addition of "wearing MAGA campaign clothing" assumes that the protestors were agents of anarchy, whereas the counter-protestors were supporting a return to order by the current Executive administration. The final addition of "injured" insinuates that the protestors were violent and the counter protestors were not. </p><p>The same kind of additions can be added for a left leaning message:</p><p></p><blockquote><p><i>Statement C:</i></p><p>Today, at 5pm, a protest occurred in downtown Los Angeles <b><span style="color: red;">at Bunker Hill</span></b>. Joe Smith, <b><span style="color: red;">Pulitzer Prize winning</span></b> professor of Black Studies at UCLA, organized the event to bring awareness to a recent event where Black suspects were <span style="color: red;"><b>unlawfully </b></span>detained and suffered injuries. After 2 hours <b><span style="color: red;">of peaceful demonstrations</span></b>, a fight broke out between protestors and <b><span style="color: red;">armed </span></b>counter-protestors. The police were called in response leading to the arrests of 3 protestors and 2 counter-protestors <b><span style="color: red;">charged with intimidation and brandishing a deadly weapon.</span></b> </p></blockquote><p></p><p>The additional details highlight the location of the protests taking place in a cultural center of downtown Los Angeles. The organizer, Joe Smith, is given credibility with his past achievements. Adding that the suspects were "unlawfully" detained suggests systemic injustice in some form contributed to the circumstances surrounding the arrest. The quality of the demonstrations as "peaceful," gives sympathy to the protestors, who are threatened with violence by "armed" counter-protestors. The final detail of the 2 counter-protestors being "charged with intimidation and brandishing a deadly weapon" further indemnifies the actions of the original protestors.</p><p>So, yeah, subjective statements are fucked up.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_lsIXl12cGielqoKSBn-4zlMntuYGxwsc5L3wRBd9yV58LUEC4ybUDjTrkmdI8RM31mFwP2Dx1_cRrOPc0CgHgISXBQZogB9J95-xN5mqImy3pavtY9Mv4zwnAEUI_tNx3iWwErv0vQ/s1027/numze.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1027" data-original-width="682" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_lsIXl12cGielqoKSBn-4zlMntuYGxwsc5L3wRBd9yV58LUEC4ybUDjTrkmdI8RM31mFwP2Dx1_cRrOPc0CgHgISXBQZogB9J95-xN5mqImy3pavtY9Mv4zwnAEUI_tNx3iWwErv0vQ/s320/numze.JPG" /></a></div><p>Given the above, we have only looked at statements, and how objective data can be modified with commentary to create a subjective message. But this kind of influencing can go to additional lengths to influence the subconscious of the subscriber. The curating of related and unrelated stories in a segmentation of news media can add an additional "metastory" on top of everything that then further tints the overall interpretation of all events in the given time frame. Depending on the publication's perceived audience, the metastory will adhere to a particular philosophy, the objective to confirm the bias of the readership. Late author and semioticist, Umberto Eco describes this in his satirical novel <i><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Numero_Zero" target="_blank">Numero Zero</a>,</i> which analyzes the underlying methodology of tabloid media (which in this case, concerns the various regional conflicts and cultural eccentricities of Italy in the early nineties):</p><p></p><blockquote>"I know it's commonly said that if a labourer attacks a fellow worker, then the newspapers say where he comes from if he's a southerner but not if he comes from the north. Alright, that's racism. But imagine a page on which a laborer from Cuneo, etc. etc., a pensioner from Mestre kills his wife, a newsagent from Bologna commits suicide, a builder from Genoa signs a bogus cheque. What interest is that to readers in the areas where these people were born? Whereas if we are talking about a laborer from Calabria, A pensioners from Matera, a newsagent from Foggia and a builder from Palermo, then it creates concern about criminals coming up from the south, and this makes news..." pg. 46-47</blockquote><p>So the idea Eco summarizes (from the point of view of Simei, the Editor-in-Chief of the fictional magazine, <i>Domani</i>) is that, if a newspaper advocates for a specific philosophy, there are ways to use objective data to make a subjective meta-statement that will guide the reader to a specific conclusion. For instance, Fox News might report three of the following (hypothetical) stories in a 24 hour news cycle:</p><p></p><ol style="text-align: left;"><li>"Obama congratulates Hillary Clinton on her new book in a Facebook post."</li><li>"Clinton Foundation fired an employee for [unspecified] misconduct."</li><li>"Wikileaks obtains emails involving a large investment made by Hillary Clinton in a German technology firm."</li></ol><div>The fictional stories above, when viewed separately, are entirely unrelated. Their objective descriptions are, also, fairly innocuous (other than #2). The curation of the stories is, by no means, an accident however. Even when read separately, a Fox News subscriber can draw a number of conclusions from each story: </div><div><ol style="text-align: left;"><li>[Indicates a close association (professional and personal) between Hillary Clinton and Barak Obama.]</li><li>[The Clinton Foundation is corrupt.]</li><li>[Hillary Clinton is beholden to foreign interests.]</li></ol> And from these conclusions, the subscriber infers a larger metastory, with greater implications to the news conscious population as a whole: <i>"Hillary Clinton is a corrupt politician, trying to cover up a scandal that involves foreign companies, and Barak Obama endorses/is aware of/is complicit in/benefits from it."</i> And, so, the final story is a work of fiction, synthesized from objectively factual data. Therefore, even innocuous stories can contribute to misinformation. Eco describes a similar effect in an essay that was delivered to the Associazione Italiana di Semiotica in 2009, titled <i>Censorship and Silence.</i> Specifically he states that the OVERsaturation of meaningless information can crowd larger conversations, or direct attention away from other potential scandals. Boris Johnson appeared to be doing this in June of 2019 when he <a href="https://www.wired.co.uk/article/boris-johnson-model-google-news" target="_blank">shared some interesting personal hobbies</a>, which some speculated to be attempts at disrupting Google search results.</div><div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLXmkB0eu0kbf2clRLSqFmYmaIFxOcu3zC5WKCFXw0Boq4HiOQwhdKGT0nelyXYpRq_sJkQryDMOF844cGVkzKXwzkpHX2EComOsROOHptFaC-EN7tKBBIy38PUWjMbbM1YYXud_vMAg/s1920/Ejb6xAZWkAMy5Xj.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1920" data-original-width="1080" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLXmkB0eu0kbf2clRLSqFmYmaIFxOcu3zC5WKCFXw0Boq4HiOQwhdKGT0nelyXYpRq_sJkQryDMOF844cGVkzKXwzkpHX2EComOsROOHptFaC-EN7tKBBIy38PUWjMbbM1YYXud_vMAg/w360-h640/Ejb6xAZWkAMy5Xj.jpg" width="360" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I highly recommend looking at Abbie's research into conspiracy theories and how they develop</td></tr></tbody></table><div><br /></div><div>But, getting back to original matter though, concerning my dad and his statement about fact-checkers and confirmation bias. All I can say is that, despite the addition of color commentary, the original event or detail depicted in a news story <i>still</i> must remain objective. "Obama was the 44th president of the United States," is an objective fact. "Christmas Day will be Friday, December 25th in the year 2020," is an objective fact. To say that fact-checkers are biased is a difficult proposition. This is because we live in an ecosystem of independent bodies that can verify the truth independent of a "fact-checker" by referring to a primary source (poll, dataset, audio/written/photographic testimony, etc.). Therefore, if a single fact-checker reports something incorrect, there are another ninety-nine available to dispute the claim. This is how peer-reviewed academic journals function. And the process by which they operate have given us countless advances in modern science and medicine. To reject objective, independently verified data is a problem because the validity of data is independent of subjectivity. If the data hurts the observers' feelings, then that is not a weakness of data, that is a weakness of the observer. In the end, it's fundamentally an act of weakness and cowardice that not only endangers the individual, but endangers the safety of those within the individual's sphere of influence. </div><div><br /></div><div>So I will just say that, yes, it is true that bias exists within the news continuity. That is unavoidable. However, rather than dismiss bias, it is better (actually) to accommodate for it. When it is accepted that bias exists in the wild, and that it can be dissected and explained, there is greater benefit for everyone. Seeking the historical and cultural origin of various flavors bias helps explain why someone in a population might think a certain way. The faith one puts in bias helps us be aware of how information could be corrupted in transmission via wishful thinking. Most important, accepting the risk of bias forces observers and listeners to be held accountable for the dissemination of false information. </div><div><br /></div><div>If we can't accept that responsibility, then we might as well just embrace the middling death of democracy and spirited debate. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><p></p><p></p><p></p>StuartTheAuthorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05517500378556611697noreply@blogger.com0Santa Barbara, CA, USA34.4208305 -119.69819016.1105966638211555 -154.8544401 62.731064336178846 -84.5419401