Ram bling bling

Molly and Luke get a Christmas surprise.

Neil Hetzel — Thu, 27 Dec 2007 02:10:00 GMT

Mitt Romney, Unbelievers and Christmas

Neil Hetzel — Sun, 24 Dec 2006 11:13:00 GMT

I had two things cross my desk yesterday that alternately made me chuckle and shake my head. One is this article from the BBC about how Mitt Romney is going to announce his candidacy for President of the United States. The other is about how a plurality of Britons believe that religion does more harm than good.

Before I say anything negative about the Mitt Romney piece let me just say that I’m grateful to the writer (Justin Webb) for being positive and fair about the LDS church. It’s easy to mock the church based on its more eccentric doctrines and intentionally overlook its central theme that a) Christ is the son of God b) families are the most important societal building block and should be cared for and maintained with the highest priority. Both of those things were covered pretty well by the piece. But I had to chuckle at the tone in which the truth was delivered

“But here is a big difference between Mormons and other American evangelists - Mormons do not feel threatened by science…

…They are not enemies of the rational world - they are not creationists.

And on human conduct they tend to stress setting personal examples rather than getting the state to enforce religious rules.”

All true. And maybe it’s just me but through the entire article I got a sense of “And I was shocked to find that they weren’t dullards or bigots.”

Then I read this article on how most Britons believe that religion does more harm than good.

“Eighty-two percent of the 1,006 adults questioned for the left-leaning Guardian newspaper in the run up to Christmas said they saw religion as a cause of division and tension between people compared to 16 percent who disagreed.”

And I just scratch my head. Have these 825 people been to church? Have they sat down and had a rational discussion with people who do believe? And would they maybe be as shocked as the writer who wrote the Mitt Romney piece if they did?

I don’t wear my religion on my sleeve. I have my doubts and fears and I’ve certainly failed a few tests of faith. But, and perhaps this is because of my proximity to the LDS church, I’ve never believed that religion does more harm than good and I’ve never been shocked to meet rational people who also believe in God. Based on actual discussions with real people I have to conclude that most who believe that religion “does more harm than good” would be just as surprised as Mr. Webb if they had a good long discussion with those that do. In other words, “religion does more harm than good” is a meme at this point. It’s starting point for people who haven’t bothered to really meet those who do believe and understand them. Or even read a little history for that matter. Unfortunately, from my personal experience, this leads to the kind of bigotry, hatred and raving lunacy that most of these people are purportedly against. In reality, they’ve just reserved it for an easy target, a caricature of Oral Roberts or Jim Baker that they’ve unfairly stapled to the face of true belief.

For the religious the mysticism of worship and the rational world are not two different things. For the religious the edification of the spirit can be found in the relatively mundane event of a child’s birth. Spiritual fulfillment comes in pondering a baby, wrapped in swaddling clothes and held in his mother’s arms. What could be more natural than that? What could be more sanctified?

May we all remember that tomorrow as the wrapping paper flies and the roast beast is cut. Me most of all.

-Neil

The Girl Who Loved Tom Gordon

Neil Hetzel — Tue, 12 Sep 2006 18:35:00 GMT

When I was about 13 or so I met a young man who was part of a born again Christian church. He invited me to come to church so I did and ultimately that led to me spending a few weeks up in northern Arizona at a Christian Summer camp.

One day several boys decided to disappear off into the woods and a few of us followed them. We hiked for what I would guess was only a mile or two and then quite suddenly the trail dropped off into a ravine that was about 30’-40’ deep. Strung above the ravine was a thick cord of a wire and on the wire was a pulley with a steel loop under it and a long rope tied through the loop. One of the older boys grabbed the rope, hiked down into the ravine pulling on it as he went, slowly guiding the pulley to the other side of the ravine. He hiked up, took off his shirt running it through the same loop the rope was tied to. He then slid his wrists through the openings in his shirt meant for his arms, rotated the fabric a few times so as to pull the fabric tight up against his forearms and without warning he leapt off of the launch boulder at the edge of the ravine. The pulley buzzed to life and he flew, swinging his legs in unison front to back, out over that deep scar in the ground, tapping the tops of trees with his legs as he passed and landing safely back on our side of the divide.

I was enthralled. I was terrified of the drop but I was totally drawn into that idea of really feeling what it must be like to fly. So of course I had to do it.

And I did it over and over and over. In fact, as the sun went down and most of the other boys had left I was still doing it. Something about zipping out through nothingness and seeing the earth so far below your two feet was intoxicating and I was addicted. I decided to go for it one last time. I was alone but I knew the way back and I just had to do it one more time. So I scrambled down into that ravine for possibly the 20^th time that day. At the bottom there was a small stream and I was unable to avoid getting my feet wet because the ravine had grown dark and I couldn’t find the path I had been taking to avoid the stream. I could only pick my way through it using the dim degrees of grey to black which represented various trees, stones and underbrush in the shadowy netherworld of the ravine. In short it was dark. By the time I got to the top I was scared. There was no way I would be able to pick my way back to the other side because now the sun had gone down below the horizon, Even the sunset afterglow had faded to a dark purple. There was no choice left but to run the zip line again, in the dark.

I had done this a lot that day. But standing on the launch boulder and tipping slightly at the waist to ready my hands I felt slightly dizzy. I knew the chasm was yawning under me and that if I didn’t get it right I’d plummet down and die.

And then a thought occurred to me. Actually it really wasn’t a thought. It was feeling, an alarm that had nothing to do with rational thought. It was the distinct and undeniable alert that prey feels when in the proximity of its predator, my genetic memory telling me to get the hell out. Something was watching me. Something was right behind me. And in a spurt of irrationality and terror I jumped off that boulder not knowing if I had secured my hands and not even thinking about the fact that I might plummet to my death. I was sure something was right behind me in the dark and it wanted to hurt me. No more than second (probably less) after I jumped I heard a low and guttural grunt from my left, a deep snarl that scared me so badly I didn’t have the capacity to scream. My body erupted in gooseflesh and the fear I felt made me so alert I felt as though time slowed a bit. I felt like was capable of seeing everything at once, if that makes any sense.

My hands had been secured and a few moments later I landed on the other side of the ravine. I whipped my hands out as fast as I could, feeling distinctly like the horror show heroine who fumbles desperately for her car keys at the lock as the machete wielding maniac approaches from behind. Somehow I got my hand out and I ran. I ran as fast I could and I didn’t stop until I got back to the large play field at the edge of the camp.

Did this all actually happen? Yes. At least, I think I know it happened. To put it another way, I’m not making it up. I did stand on top of that rock in the darkness and fumble for my hand holds. I did jump off that rock because I was terrified that there was something behind me and intent on eating me. I did land on the other side and I did run for camp fueled by a terror I hadn’t ever felt until that point in my life.

But was there really something there? Did I really hear the grunt or did my mind supply the grunt as motivation or justification for jumping? I’m not sure. I’ve never been sure and I’ll never be sure. But I believe it was there. I know I’m not lying or making this up. I know it happened as best I can and that’s all I’ll ever have.

The story behind The Girl Who Loved Tom Gordon is simple. 9 year old Trisha McFarland gets lost in the deep woods off of the Appalachian trail. She struggles with all the problems any human would in the same situation. No food, no shelter and existing in that distinctly silent world of the woods where, after a few moments of deep stillness you realize that you're an outsider in a land that could eat you up and forget you. And where they wouldn't even find the bones.

Weaved into this story is Trisha and her father’s shared love of baseball and her crush on the Red Sox closing pitcher, Tom Gordon. About the time that Trisha realizes that she has her walkman in her pack and can listen to Sox games (“yeah baby!”), she also realizes that she is being stalked by something dark and terrible. Is it denizen of the woods? Is it something far worse? Is it simply a result of the slow hallucinations that may or may not be setting in due to fever, hunger and pain?

As the story moves forward it changes from one of simple to survival to a metaphor about how the things we find inspiration in can save us when we face the things we fear the most. It takes time in life to realize that, as the book puts it, “The world had teeth and it could bite you with them any time it wanted”. How we react defines us.

This is a damn good book which seems to get better the more time passes and the more I think about it. Read it if you can. It’s short and well worth the effort.

Frustrating abuse of this site.

Neil Hetzel — Mon, 11 Sep 2006 10:23:00 GMT

Perhaps that a bit too dramatic of a post title but hopefully it will get folks to read it.

Today I fire up the machine, check e-mail and see a new reply to my blog entry where I dress up as a Stormtrooper and tour the nearby Walmart with my buddy Ryan. Replies to the entry are nothing new. It has more replies and hits by far than anything else I've written. Usually the replies are just among the “LOL” variety and sometimes they're a bit more colorful, but I've never once deleted a reply. Until the latest one which showed up today:

“I got my armor from www.<removed-the-domain>.com and all the other bits and pieces from several other suppliers (gloves, undersuit, neckseal, holster, boots, helmet electronics). The armor alone was about $800. With the additional add-ons, it's about $1300. “

The first thing that's wrong with this post is that it was attributed to me. The poster signed his name as Neil. Now, it is possible that the poster's name is Neil, but on a site who's domain is neilhetzel.com which is in turn titled Neil's Spiel it gives the unmistakable impression that I was the one who added the reply. I was not. Nor will I ever post the name of the person who sold me my armor. The reason I won't do this is because this person specifically asked me NOT to post his name or a link to his site. Not because he was doing anything wrong mind you. But because it's kind of an unwritten agreement between the 501st and Lucasfilm that we can make and sell armor so long as no one profits. Now of course some people do profit a little, but as long as nobody's making a living off of it, from what I understand, Lucasfilm restrains itself from suing that person into oblivion.

Which leads me to my next point. This post pretty firmly puts me in the position of looking like I'm shilling for a particularly armor maker. If I were to ever do that, which I doubt, it certainly would not be for the site listed in the reply. Our garrison has it's own armor making resources in the form of a beer swilling bald dude whom we all love. If I were to shill for anyone it would be for him if only to get more donations for Phoenix Children's Hospital or the other various charity organizations we support.

If you *really* think the traffic to my silly Walmart post is significant enough to garner you sales money (highly doubtful) and you *really* want to use it for that purpose I have a suggestion. If we can come up with a way for a portion of all the sales you get as a result of my site to come to me I'd be all for it. Because then every penny of that money would go to PCH.

Otherwise, stay the hell off of my site please.

-Neil

P.S. I understand that this may all be a real dude named Neil posting about his real purchase from a real site. If so, then I'm sorry to blow this out of proportion. But, as hard as I try to keep the inner cynic at bay, I doubt it.

Star Trek turns 40 today.

Neil Hetzel — Fri, 08 Sep 2006 23:30:00 GMT

It appears that the decision has been made to update the effects on the original series and then re-air it week by week. At first I was suspicious of this, having lost all interest in the addition of “new and improved” effects ala the craptastic Star Wars: Special Editions. But after reading this I feel better. And after seeing sample update shots like this and this I'm downright salivating to see this in HD...which of course I won't be able to see for at least a year after they start syndicating the show again.

I actually like the decision to run the show over the air vs. just shipping out a 40th anniversary edition of the DVDs. It'll be nice to tune in weekly to something. It'll remind me of when I was a kid watching the show and laying in front of our big TV with the clunk clunk channel knobs and the volume slider that looked just like the transporter control panel. I'm quite sure there are some GI Joe and He-Man action figures on Seti Alpha 6...or was it Seti Alpha 5?

-Neil

Very odd dream

Neil Hetzel — Sat, 26 Aug 2006 09:23:00 GMT

As I was waking up this morning I had an odd succession of dreams that I just happened to remember now.

I’m sure the dream went on before this but the farthest back I can remember we (I have no idea who the others were) were trying to lure out a UFO so the others could shoot it down. I was the bait. I remember standing on the edges of a metal disk that was concave on the bottom. I would rock it in a circle to create a wobbling momentum that would lift the entire disk off the ground except the one edge that was touching it. Using this odd gyroscopic motion I would flee across a large field until I reached a large building. Presumably I would be safe there and the UFO would be “captured”.

While I crossed the field, helicopters (two of them) were showing off to one another. I assume these were the guys that were going to shoot down the UFO but they weren’t too concerned about that evidently. One would do a barrel roll and then the other would pick up the challenge and do the same, swooping insanely close to the field I was crossing. I distinctly remember thinking “that’s impossible” but not because I know anything about aerodynamics. No, I was remembering the eighties film “Blue Thunder” and the part where the then new and amazing Apache helicopter (named Blue Thunder for the movie) does some sort of upside down maneuver and the guy watching say “That’s impossible”.

I have some odd recollection that I saw the UFO come out of hiding. Although it seemed like I was looking through some sort of range finder or HUD display. Of course I couldn’t be doing that if I was busy riding my ever so effective mode of quick retreat (everyone knows that the best way to flee from a UFO is to wobble around in circles on a metal disk…duh) across the field but such is dream logic.

When the UFO was “here” I picked up the pace and made it across to the building which looked remarkably like my elementary school building. The crazy part was that when I got to the door, I could see that construction workers inside were preparing for a circus…and someone had left the white tiger outside the door I needed to get in. Stupidly, I kept wobbling closer and the Tiger, understandably interested began to get up and walk closer. That’s right, he wasn’t on a leash. The last thing I remember is that the tiger got so close I could feel it’s breath on me and I swear if someone could have seen me while I was sleeping I’m sure I was freaking out. I guess my brain didn’t feel like showing me myself being eaten by a tiger so it allowed me to rotate away and flee the tiger. Because, as we all know, the best method of fleeing a hungry white tiger is on a wobbly disk thing. Yeah.

The end.

The Dark Tower IV: Wizard and Glass

Neil Hetzel — Wed, 23 Aug 2006 23:04:00 GMT

I’ve been remiss in posting about the books I’ve read. Since my last post about reading I think I’ve read three or four and have not stopped to post about them.

I’m enjoying the hell out of Steven King’s Dark Tower series (as you may ken from the subtitle of this here blog yes ya may). Since I just finished book four and am starting book five I’m skipping the overview of books two and three in order to get to the good stuff.

Wizard and Glass, the fourth book in the Dark Tower series is the reason I read fiction. Although book-ended with some story regarding the characters we’ve met so far, King goes back in time to tell the story of Roland, the last Gunsligner before he was the last of the line of Eld.

In book one; we learn that Roland was tricked into taking his test of manhood too soon. His father’s aide, Walter O’Dim, had enchanted Roland’s mother and was having an affair with her. Walter allowed Roland to see her after one of their trysts in order to raise the boy’s anger while his father was away fighting “The Good Man” who is threatening to tear Mid-World apart with his talk of revolution against the Gunslingers. Walter assumed the boy would demand to take his test of man hood in order to gain the right to wear his guns and then use them on the wizard. He assumed that the boy would either be killed or would fail and be sent West in banishment. He was wrong.

Roland passes his test but his father returns before Roland can take action against Walter. His father informs him that he had known for a long time of Walter’s treachery and his wife’s infidelity. He is frustrated by his son’s choices for now Walter can strike against Roland. He’s no longer protected by his youth. To keep his son safe Steven Deschain sends him east with two friends, Gunslingers in training, to bide their time.

And it’s here that the story really begins. Arriving in the barony of Majis, the three boys, posing as delinquents on a mission to regain the trust of their fathers and traveling under false names, run afoul of some bad men in town called The Big Coffin Hunters. It becomes apparent soon that the bad men are not from Majis and are instead actively working to buy some precious resource for some unknown reason. The game begins as the boys, now crossing the threshold of man hood attempt to learn of the plot while maintaining their cover.

And of course Roland falls in love. The beating heart of the story, the thing that makes you cringe and cheer and groan and cry is the love story between Roland of Gilead and his Susan. How a man in his 50s could write so convincingly of the intensity of teenage love I’ll never know. I felt deeply for Roland as he struggled between the weight of his duty to his father, and as a Gunslinger and his deep and true love for Susan Delgado. For of course they can’t just come out and show the world they’re in love. Susan has been proven pure by examination and is promised to the old, lusty and disgusting Mayor Thorin. In exchange for being the Mayor’s concubine Susan and her aunt have been promised ownership of the land her father worked on before his mysterious death.

Both of them are caught between their duty to their families and their love for one another. Is it a sappy love story? Nope. Not sappy at all. It is wonderfully done love story though and one I’ll remember for a long time. King is not afraid to break hearts but as always, the ending is the right one.

Stoked

Neil Hetzel — Fri, 18 Aug 2006 21:56:00 GMT

I went to Blockbuster tonight to pick up a movie for Trudy and me. I had no idea what to get, none of the current releases looked like they were worth the time of day, so I just wandered the aisles. I came across a documentary named “Stoked” about the rise and fall of one of skate boarding’s biggest stars, Mark “Gator” Ragowski.

The movie brought back a lot of memories for me. Back in the late eighties I loved skateboarding. I was never much good at it. But I loved it. Mostly because it was something I could do on my own. Because of my parent’s divorce, and because I was pretty shy back then there was no way I was going to be playing Pop Warner, Little Leage or even team sports at school. After school during elementary was filled with He-Man reruns. After school during Jr. High was filled with skating.

So seeing all the Bones Brigade crew, seeing the eighties girls with their Madonna hair, seeing Christian Hasoi and all the rest really brought me back to those days when I carried a cement parking block a mile back to my house so I would have something to grind and rail slide on. It reminded me of the true despair I felt when my brand new $100 Fred Smith Alva board was hit by a car smashing it to splinters. It reminded me of the elation I felt when I successfully launched for the first time off the launch ramp that my Grandpa and I built on one of his trips to visit us from England.

If you were into skating back then you will love the first part of this movie. It’ll remind you what it was like back then when you found that perfect zen moment of execution doing your first ollie flip.

But the second act of the film is pretty depressing. It’s all about the crash days when Skateboarding moved off the rock star vert ramp and out into the streets and how the vert guys lost all their money and fame and were searching for way to rebuild it. The movie chronicles the impact of this shift in culture on Gator, how he couldn’t compete or adapt and how he lost everything, eventually taking out the rage and frustration of not just his collapse but his total lack of guidance on the body of innocent girl.

I had no idea that one of the guys I used to read about in Thraser and Transworld, one of the guys I used to think of as a kind of a untouchable god, was now a murderer. How weird is that? How messed up is that? Even after watching the movie I don’t really want to believe it. But it’s true.

Anyway, not to be depressing but if you had any interest in skate boarding at all I recommend it.

San Diego Comic Con 2: George R.R. Martin

Neil Hetzel — Thu, 27 Jul 2006 22:44:00 GMT

I went to Comic Con for the panels. I wasn’t terribly interested in the show floor and subsequent perusals of its length affirmed my suspicion. No, I went to listen to people speak that had something interesting to say and George R. R. Martin did not disappoint.

I ran across Martin’s books by accident. I was in a bookstore and noticed that there was a board game based on his books. In the back of my mind I made a mental note to check them out. Then I walked over to the fantasy section, picked up a book with a promising cover and read something like “…very much like George R.R. Martin’s writing.” Ok, two mentions in a 5 minute period? I have to check this guy out.

So I bought the first book in the Song of Ice and Fire series called A Game of Thrones. I read the prologue and I was hooked. That never happens to me. Prologues almost universally bore me but this one sold me on the story. I bought it, went home and devoured it. It’s still probably one of the greatest fantasy books I’ve read. Not much magic, no elves or dwarves. No this was just pure medieval war. Think Dune but in a fantasy realm. It was wonderful. No Tolkien remnants. It felt like I was watching war as it must have been conducted so many years ago.

So of course I had to be up early on Thursday morning to go hear what this guy had to say. And he did not disappoint.

The panel discussion was on why fantasy books tended to be much thicker than the average novel. The answers ranged from “because it takes more time to familiarize the reader with the new world, power structures and characters in it” to “because fantasy readers like to be taken away to another place that they can dwell in for a while.” All of which were fine answers. But then Martin spoke up and said something wonderful.

Martin came in early and sat down two rows in front of me. I kinda freaked out like a little girl meeting Mickey Mouse or something. I pussed out and didn't ask for a picture with both of us. Instead I surreptitiously took one of his sweaty back which I'm sure he'd be very pleased with if he knew about it.

Of course I’m paraphrasing but he said something like this: “You have to remember that when the novel was invented it was called the novel for a reason. That is, it was novel. Most people in those days grew up, married, raised children and died in the same place. Save for a trip or two to a nearby city like London or New York they never left their home town. They married the girl next door and did, for a living, whatever it was their father did. Novels were a way for them to travel to places that they would never see and live in the skin of people who were not like them at all.

Contrast that with today’s world. We’ve all met people who trained to be a lawyer but quit the job to take up veterinary work and now are horticulturalists. Nobody stays put anymore. We all move from place to place and we all change careers. Change is a constant in our lives. And yet, Star Trek is still the same. I can go anywhere in the world and pop in my Star Trek DVD and there are Kirk and McCoy to greet me.

I was coming back from a convention to visit a friend of mine in Chicago. I had a day or so before I met her so I decided to spend it wandering around my old neighborhood because I grew up in Chicago. I went there and nothing was the same. The entire place was Asian restaurants and food markets. Even the titty bars were gone! I expected to spend the day full of wonderful reminiscing, but instead I left there kind of depressed. That neighborhood has had no significant place in my life for many years and yet when I left I was depressed.

This was actually taken a day or so later in a different panel but we won't quibble. George is the Santa looking fellow.

I think novels fill this need in today’s society to walk around the neighborhood and see that nothing has changed. Yes, there’s Sam and Frodo and their still walking to Mordor to destroy that ring. And yes, there’s Kirk and McCoy and Spock beaming down to the planet. Everything is the same and doesn’t change here.”

And when he was done I had chills. Because I had always felt that but was not able to put words to it. All the while he was talking I kept thinking “Yes! Yes that’s it exactly!” See my post on going home again. I think that’s why I gravitated to reading at such an early age and stayed there. My first reading homes were Middle Earth followed by Krynn. I thin I read fantasy because it felt a little like England. And the funny thing is, when my brother and I went back to England we always spent the first hour walking through my grandparent’s house and checking out the shed in the back garden. I didn’t realize it at the time but I was making sure that everything was the same. I was making sure that in a life full of change this one place was still the same and would not change.

So, thumbs up for George R.R. Martin. Well said. I won’t forget it and it was worth the cost of admission .

-Neil

San Diego Comic Con 1

Neil Hetzel — Wed, 26 Jul 2006 23:28:00 GMT

This is the first of what I hope will be many (provided I don't get lazy) posts about San Diego Comic Con 2006. Your's truly visited the epicenter of geekdom last week and came away with some really great stories. The truth is though, I'm just trying to find a way not to work on a story I've been writing while still alleviating some guilt by writing something. So I'm starting with something simple. Happy Tree Friends.

Have you seen Happy Tree Friends? I hope so. And if you have kids, I hope they haven’t. Happy Tree Friends is a web animation in which happy bunnies and raccoons and other forest dwelling cuties are killed in some of the most graphic (cartoon graphic mind you) ways. Yes, it's sick. Yes, the first time I saw it I was repulsed. But the second time I laughed my ass off. So I guess I'm sick. Fine, whatever.

As I was walking through the Con I came across the Happy Tree Friends booth and saw that they were signing autographs. Knowing that my buddy Matt is a huge fan I decided to stop buy and get something signed for him. The guys were very, very nice and they went out of their way to make conversation with each and every person that came through their line.

I wish for the life of me that I could remember their names. I believe the guy on the end in the yellow is named Ken Pontac but I'm not sure. Anywhoski, the guy looking at the camera in blue and the guy at the far end of the table with the long hair are both foley artists. They make up and record all the sounds for the show. So I started talking to them about what specifically they do and the guy in black said he snaps celery and bone all day to get the nice bone snapping sounds needed for the show. Then he turned to the guy in blue and said “But that's the real genius. He taught me everything I know.” So I asked Mr. guy in the blue about the different types of things he used to make sounds. He said “Well, you know what really sounds great?” and at this point the guy in black got very excited. He continued: “Frozen cabbage and a mallet! That makes the best whacking sound you've ever heard!” Now I ask you. How do I get a job like that? Cuz I want it. I want it bad.

-Neil