Why Old Science-Fiction can be Funny

So I was reading “The Tank Lords” by David Drake, a collection of short stories about his Hammer’s Slammers mercenary group. They use tanks, to put it mildly, as their main source of force. It’s funny, though. These were published in the ‘80’s. He has an appendix detailing some stuff about his universe, and some of his principles.

He gave a history of tanks, which is a combo of real history bleeding into his history of the future. It all read true at first, the guy’s a veteran of Viet-Nam who served in a Cavalry regiment, and he studied his history. It all came apart when this tid-bit of old 70’s defense wisdom came through.

“Individual infantrymen of 1970 carried missiles whose warheads burned through the armor of any tank. Slightly larger missiles ranged kilometers to blast with pinpoint accuracy vehicles costing a thousand times as much. Similar weaponry was mounted on helicopters which skimmed battlefields in the nape of the earth, protected by terrain irregularities. At the last instant the birds could pop up to rip tanks with their missiles. The future of armored vehicles looked bleak and brief.”

And then, he drifts into science-fiction land where the tank had been revived by fusion reactors, air-cushion propulsion, and superhard iridium hulls. It just found it funny that he was positing this future when at the time his book was published, modern technology had already put the tank back up as the primary tour de force of many armies.

Depleted uranium and composite armor replaced steel. No infantryman or helicopter could destroy and Abrams or Challenger with a missile. Hell, the tank’s own main guns could barely destroy them. Just look up some tank stories from Desert Storm, and you’d think your reading science-fiction, hell, FANTASY!!!, when you discover how much punishment the new behemoths could take.

In addition, tanks have become magnificent street fighters, whereas before they were highly vulnerable in cities. Technology fixed that too with advanced sensors and panoramic cameras giving the crew a view to the outside, letting them see that RPG team lining up a shot in the house around the corner – not to mention closer coordination with infantryman.

We’ve seen many instances where the real world has trumped the ideas of science-fiction, meaning writers of the genre need to get ever more creative and even more in touch with the realities of technology around them. Otherwise, they wind up looking a bit foolish. David Drake’s oversight is a small one, and I still enjoy his old writing, but let it be a message to those authors of the field – be smarter.

Science Fiction isn’t Fantasy.

Why I Don’t Like Photo-Manipulation

Don’t get me wrong. I see a lot of good photo-manipulators and they do some good work. It is a skill, but not one I can easily get behind. I could have gone down that path, rather than one of digital painting, I took the classes. But can it be called art? My answer is: NO!

It’s the same reason those re-cut fan flicks on YouTube can’t be considered a real movie. Sure it takes some skill, some know-how in using the software and choosing good times to cut. But the movie isn’t yours. Some one else put far more work into the original film than you did in cutting it up and setting it to some music.

The same can be said for photo-manips. They take pictures some one else took, cite their source, and splice it all together in a program to make an image. Personally, I hated doing it in my Photoshop class. I hated doing all the things I saw in the Photoshop magazine, when I could just draw it and paint it. Granted, I’m just an amateur at best, an outright noob at worst, but I still don’t see the point.

In the end, it was all just unsatisfying, kind of like when I had no skills as a teenager and I traced out of comic books. Scrambling through page after page, looking for something to fit what was in my head, then to trace it all and place it together, hoping it would work . . . it was much better to take figure drawing and learn to do it myself. Now, I can draw reasonably competent out of my head, and if I have a model things are even better.

But, hey some people keep on going with the photo-manip stuff. I could say it’s just “not my bag”, but if any of them come up and tell me that they’re an artist because they mixed up some pictures, I’d sooner kick them in the crotch.

Chains of Innocence

Nothing is what it seems at the End of Innocence. It’s the time when everything we knew or thought we knew, what we were taught, what we believe, gets turned on its head. The hollow sermons from the pulpit and the shrill shrieking of the pundits do little to assuage the confusion we feel, because the same reinforcing of the old lie does nothing to stop the truth from creeping in.

On one side we have those who extol us virtues taught in high universities detached from the realities of man. They promote “peace” but in the end all they ever get is peace for themselves, hiding atop the palace on the hill while the world starves and dies around them. Deep inside they feel a self-loathing, a guilt that their culture has succeeded over all others and are terrified of claiming their right.

The other side dreams of a past that never existed, where traditional values meant something that they didn’t. In the past they crave for, minorities marched in the street for their most basic rights, husbands still beat their wives, gangsters still ruled the streets. They yearn for a fairy tail and try to be the good guy, but still haven’t learned that to save others you’ve got hurt others, and be ready to get hit back.

Between these two sides are the fickle masses, scrambling for scraps. They look to others for leadership to find only sycophants and narcissists ready to exploit their emotions, their fear and anger, for positions of power. The two sides do this by picking and preying out the feckless, childish beliefs we are all taught to believe.

They’ll support a war then turn on the progenitors when things go south, or realize that the hero business is a dirty and ugly one. Economic woes begin to bring them down, and they’ll beg the other side for a helping hand, because they are bound to be compassionate by uncompromising beliefs. They are sheep who don’t realize sheep are good for one thing – to be eaten.

They hold on to their Innocence in the same abused children still look to their parents. It’s a thing they can’t live without, but eats away at their soul. If only they’d let it go, they’d have what it takes to face the world, and rule it, as is their right. If they’d only stand up and recognize the lies that program their behavior, their lives would be independent of the hounds that hold sway over their lives.

Instead, they fail to think for themselves. Led by the nose like cows to the slaughter, time and time again. Time is running out for them to claim their birthright. They grow fatter and fatter, searching for something to fill their hollow centers, running to their church of choice. Their lack of curiosity about the world around them is enough to make a sane, self-aware human being vomit. One day, the moment will come when all their liberties will be taken away, freedoms they scarcely deserve.

America: Still the Strongest, No Longer the Greatest

And I mean this from the heart. Our Navy is bigger than the next thirteen nations combined. Our Army and Marine Corps can defeat any enemy on the ground. Our Air Force possesses the only Fifth Generation Fighter in the world, and could destroy Kim Jong-Il’s missiles before or after they leave the ground. Our strength remains uncontested.

Yet, the dollar is losing value across the board. Eight hundred billion of them have been unable to turn around our economy (9.4% unemployment as of this writing). Our education system is a disgrace, ranked consistently behind nations of comparable development. We are hopelessly polarized, unoriginal in our thinking, unimaginative, and every kid I meet just keeps getting dumber and dumber. Hollywood can’t even think of an original idea, they just keep remaking stuff and looking for old franchises to turn into movies (Star Trek, Transformers, GI Joe even).

All of this probably has something to do with the fickle nature of our knee-jerk public, “The American People.” First they’re for the war. Then they turn against it and the President who takes sole responsibility, and then balk when he ups the ante in order to win.
The economy tanks and then the sheep run right into the arms of Barack Obama just because he’s the opposite of what we’ve been with. Now, things continue to get worse and the new hypocrites in charge are safely deluded in their own success as they go off to Broadway spectacles. Then he golfs on Memorial Day. The guy is all class.

And it all turns back to the moronic lemmings, “The American People”, who fell for his soft rhetoric, got tired of the hard times, and thought he would bring back the good ol’ days before Islamic extremism was a major threat and the biggest news was that an American President cheated on his wife.

In his brief tenure, Obama has proposed veterans pay for their own healthcare for injuries sustained in war, handed out $800 billion without checking where it’s going, groveled and apologized on every continent for the sins of his predecessor, blamed his predecessor for every problem that has popped up (I’m surprised Bush isn’t responsible for cancer), and has governed like the 47% of those who didn’t vote for him don’t even exist.

And he is the one “The American People” wanted. Who are these American People? I have a hard time identifying with them. They’re the result of a foolishly un-unified and inept education system. They’re the soft and sheepish souls so bereft with guilt about the success of their ancestors they see every problem in the world as their fault. They’re ignorant, arrogant, conservative, liberal, and stupid.

Is it any wonder we go from Bush to Obama? The longer these fools have a say, the strong will suffer. The best of us will wither. What was once a proud nation, at ease with its faults, forever striving to be better, will cease to be strong. We've already lost our greatness. The least we can do is not lose our strength. For then, we will be just another nation, at the mercy of the whims of others.

Why Star Trek Sucked

I’ve finally figured it; this is why the new Star Trek sucks.

I couldn’t quite pin-point it at the time, but when I left, I had a great feeling of disappointment. The movie failed to excite me even on a visceral level, never mind any lack of intellectual stimulation.

The problem lied with Kirk. I didn’t like the new actor, and I didn’t like the character. I’m not a big Trek fan by any stretch of the imagination, and especially didn’t care much for the original series. So, judging this strictly from a literary perspective, I finally figured out why this movie failed to draw me in.

The dude was a punk. Plain and simple. And not a cool, punkish kind of guy like Edward Furlong’s portrayal of John Connor. I failed to see how this guy, this douche would have wound up at the helm of a starship. Personally, I also wouldn’t have cared if the USS Enterprise didn’t even make an appearance. They’re all cadets, after all.

A screwed up childhood made him a good character to start. His rebellious nature was fun when he picked a fight with the Star Fleet cadets at the bar, and his father’s history gave him a drive. After that, it all fell apart. The Kobayashi Maru scenario was a joke. He sat there eating an apple, waiting for his cheat code to go through. I always imagined his “cheat” was something subtle, something that would allow him to win and not just turn on God Mode.

Everything after that was just one contrived incident after another that helped to put him in charge of the Enterprise, and therefore fulfill his part in the story to become the captain. And each incident was simply absurd. The same went with all the other characters. They were just there, waiting for their engineered, implausible moment to assume the post they had in the original series. And then they stayed there when the incident was over, a fresh crop of cadets who hadn’t even graduated the Academy yet.

It was bullshit. Pure and simple. It was so simple, I don’t know why it took me a week or two to figure out. Maybe cause I’ve been busy, new job and all. Now all I have to look forward to is a Terminator movie rated PG-13 and Transformers 2. Woo-hoo! Wish I was kid again. Unfortunately, I’m not.

Screw Lockheed and the Jet They Rode in On

So I was browsing the internet on my grave shift and came across Mizuki, a character statue designed by Tsukasa Bullet, a damn good anime artist. He draws women like you won't believe. But somehow the file I saved got into a shared folder, and Lockheed politely asked me, "to leave their site."

i.e, I was fired from the illustrious defense firm that has managed to nab every major defense contract of the past twenty years. Well, fuck them. Fuck them. FUCK them! If they think an anime statue is oriental "pornography", they're just showing themselves to be the old fogies they are.

I have eight hours on a shift, only two of those I actually have any work to do. Of course I'm going to do my art and look for inspiration (and I still took care of business.) Then they got rid of a good company and replaced it with something out of the stone ages. Seriously, our new contractor doesn't even have direct desposit, and they kept screwing up my pay. They can EAT ME!!! Seriously, the shit I've seen people get away with on the mid would make you go bonkers. Yet, here I am.

Oh, well. I'm moving on. Dashing into new territory, submitting more work. Hopefully I'll hit something this year as I'm struggling to keep my car, running into the unemployment lines with the other masses who had to bite off more than they can chew. I take responsibility for myself, it was my actions that got me canned, but I can live with that. I found this one, I'll find another.

Semper Fi,
Praetorian Out

Scaredy-Cat Sister

Maybe it's a female thing. My sister has submitted and been published in a number of magazines and anthologies and such, and she's even had a play she wrote produced and performed at the state university. Woo-hoo! Go, sis.

But earlier today she's trying to sum up the courage to submit her novel to an agent she's put a lot of stock in. I mean, literally, she's sitting there practically shaking! So I was like, "What's the big problem?"

"It's my novel!"

"So submit it like all those short stories you've written."

I find it funny cause I've submitted the "The Falcon of Tecora, Book I: Daybreak", about eight times this year. She says she's spent two years and lot of heartache into it. Yeah, I've only been working on TFOT since I was fourteen (it's gone through many drafts).

But anyway, good lucks to hers. Oh, and if she gets accepted this first submission, I'm kicking her out of my house. That simple.

Semper Fi,
Praetorian Out