There is probably a real literary term for this, but if there isn’t I am proposing this one. Actually, there probably isn't, now that I think about it. Not to get too insulting, but the sort of jackasses who tend to teach literature love this shit and would never use a short dismissive term to describe it. They’d need a fifteen-word description that had either “Socio”, “Political”, “Sexual” or “Environmental” in it. Optimally, all of those, because those people love nothing so much as a pointless label. Also, while still not wishing to cause offense, they're ugly and their mothers will never really love them.
A Tolkien Stone is something described in great detail that has nothing to do with the story in any significant way. Quite often, this item, event or person will never even appear in the story again, leading some one to question the point of describing them in such exquisite detail. A person could argue the necessity of most Tolkien Stones, but any fan of pulp knows that these are extraneous deviations. Pulp, by it’s very nature, rarely contains Tolkien Stones. However even that great format isn’t immune to the syndrome.
There isn’t actually a specific example of a stone in Tolkien I can think of, but it comes from a conversation I was having once with a friend. I was explaining that while I love Tolkien, he has a peculiar habit of describing every small flat gray stone in exquisite detail. He will go on and on about how this is the stone that Elendil relieved himself on after the Battle of Sausage Hill where some guy that was never mentioned before and will never be mentioned again was slain and how generations of Orcs have been raised to despise this rock because of it’s connection and on and on and on. After all that, what happens? Sam and Frodo walk past the rock without remarking on it or realizing its significance.
There are many examples of Tolkien Stones in literature. Hugo’s description of the Battle of Waterloo in Les Misérables, Stan Uris’s Wife in IT, or that f’ing turtle at the beginning of Grapes of Wrath. Talk about a turtle that couldn’t help us. I really, really hated Grapes of Wrath. Where as something like The Old Man and the Sea is interesting because the entire book is one big entirely pointless Tolkien Stone. Sweet maple syrup, but I hated that book too.
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
Saturday, August 7, 2010
The Return of Jack Collier (Chapter Seven)
The Return of Jack Collier
A Jack Collier Story
By Brett N. Lashuay
Last week’s entry can be found here.
Chapter Seven: Rising Up Back on the Street
Those first few days, I started with the treadmill, because that was the easiest thing to start on. Walking on a treadmill is boring, all physical therapy is boring, but just walking is worse. That is why Debbie put the treadmill in front of the shiny new TV she’d bought for my return.
I did not exactly live the life of a hermit monk, but it was close. The only people I saw with any regularity were Debbie and Karen. Debbie came over almost everyday to see how I was doing and if I needed anything. She did my shopping and brought me healthy food to build a strong body. Karen came by once a week for what we were calling talks.
We were calling them talks because being a former and possibly future lover she couldn’t actually perform any kind of therapy. It would be unethical for her to psychoanalyze me, so we just sat around and talked while I tried to get stronger and stronger. Actually, we didn’t really enter into an area that would be unethical, because I decided part of this game was going to be self-denial. There was going to be no mid-level boning, no half-way mark celebratory blowjobs, nothing until I’d reached what I considered to be my top form. In fact, that caused a few sore points with Karen.
“What? Nothing?” she asked when I informed her of the decision.
“Yeah,” I told her. “Nothing.”
“It’s not healthy,” she told me, sounding shocked. “You need the regular release or your goolies will burst or something. I read that in a book somewhere.”
“Would that be a reprint of a Victorian porn novel?” I asked.
“No, it was a medical book,” she said and because of my look she admitted the other half. “It was a reprint of a Victorian medical book, but it was medical.”
“Were you looking for spurious justifications that masturbation was necessary for female health?” I asked her, folding my hands on my already strengthening knee.
“Maybe,” she said, flushing to a sort of pale red. It wasn’t exactly pink, it was just that everything about her seemed to be sort of pale, except for those eyes of course. Those were a deep, vibrant and powerful color. “I mean it’s not like it’s discredited. We still have plenty of evidence that shows it.”
“You were trying to convince Debbie to buy a dildo, weren’t you?” I asked as the light shown in my mind. “If it was something that had come along in the last ten years she’d just claim it was pop psych, but if you could find something from a hundred years ago you could tell her it was established.”
“How do you do that?” she asked. “How is it you always get that right?”
“It’s just observation,” I didn’t point out that while I might get it right when other people are talking about Debbie, when talking to her my record was almost nil.
“There are only so many people that make you react the way you did. Don’t you do roughly the same thing?”
“Yeah, but I need notes and things,” she said.
“I’ve known you two longer and more personally than you know your patients,” I told her, which might be true, but wasn’t all of it.
“You know she still doesn’t think the three of us should be all together in one room yet,” she bounced her leg at the knee, which was crossed over her right foot, making me imagine some invisible gnome hitting her on the knee as a repetitive reflex test.
“Yeah,” I nodded. “Why do you think that is?”
“You want me to analyze my girlfriend to my ex-boyfriend?” she asked.
“Am I ex?” I asked.
“Until we make up our minds about what we’re going to be,” she said, “You still haven’t decided how you feel, remember?”
“Yeah,” I nodded. “I think the problem is all the unfinished business I’ve got to attend to.”
“Would that be business like the federal agent?” she asked.
“
“
“I certainly haven’t given her the fair shake she deserves,” I explained.
“Have you called her?” she asked.
“I was told she came and visited me, but I was so stoned at the time I don’t remember,” I told her. “I
“So why not call her?” she asked, running her fingers through the ends of her white blonde hair. “Find out what you said and see how she’s doing.”
“Maybe,”
“If you’re going to set things to right, you can’t avoid the issue,” she said, sounding less like a shrink and more like someone who could do me some good. “Stop running away and get to it.”
“Maybe.” I looked down at the floor again, which is why I didn’t see the cell phone sailing at my head. I felt my phone though, as it cracked against my skull and landed on the couch next to me. “Ow!”
“I’ll go out of the room, and you call her,” she bent down and kissed me. “If it lasts too long I’ll just go home and I’ll see you in a couple of days.”
“Why don’t you just come over when Debbie’s here?” I asked. “You make it sound like it’s all her idea, but I can’t help but notice your impetuous nature doesn’t have you showing up all the sudden to be with us.”
“Because being with you and her might be a step back for me,” she explained. “A poly relationship is more complicated the more people you put in. I can have a relationship with you, and I can have a relationship with her, but if we’re all together I would have to have both of those while also having a relationship with you and her and then dealing with the dynamic of our group relationship along with the individual relationships and then the dynamic of the relationship you have with her and I sort of need a little more time to sort that out.”
“You mean you don’t think you could hold back the desire to fuck the both of us and you want me to be physically capable first?”
“No,” she said. “I also have the dynamic of my relationship with Pete, my relationship with Angela and my relationship with Pete and Angela and how it relates to any relationship I have outside of that relationship. It’s a complicated relationship thing.”
“Bullshit.” I said, looking at her with a tilted head look she always found a little intimidating. “You love her, you used to love me and may still do so. I love her, I love you. She loves you, she loves me. Simple.”
“No,” she shook her head. “There is a lot more to it than that. I’m telling you, you almost need a flow chart.”
“No,” I shook my head. “You can work it out in your head. You’re over thinking the issue, making the question more complicated than it needs to be.”
“No Jack, this is something we both need to think about carefully.”
“No Karen,” I said calmly. “The only questions that are left are how do we feel and what are we going to do about it.”
“I don’t know,” she shook her head. “I don’t know how I feel about it.”
“
“You’re right about that though.” She looked down at her feet and then at me again. “I would want to get the two of you into bed if I saw you together. I could do it too. Neither of you are very good at resisting things you want if someone offers them and tells you it’s okay to take it. You might be good at not banging her while she’s trying not to bang you, but if I offered it up neither of you would be able to resist. I can resist you if you try to resist me, but the two of you together are just too much pretty for me. I wouldn’t be able to handle it.”
“See?” I asked. “Simple.”
“No,” she shook her head at me. “Not simple.”
“Why not?”
“Because how do I know that’s what I really want to do?” she asked, “How do I know that’s what is best for me? And what about Pete and Angela? And how do I know I won’t end up crying into Debbie’s shoulder again?”
“How do we prevent the thing after her birthday?” I asked.
“Yeah,” she nodded. “I’ve loved you for years, but I’ve barely seen you. I could keep loving you from a distance, it would mean I could walk away knowing everything is okay between us. Maybe you and I aren’t good for each other. We’re good together, but good for each other is something else.”
“I didn’t say it wasn’t difficult, I said it wasn’t as complicated as you were making it. Angela and Pete will understand, so long as you’re happy,” I told her. “You talk to them, tell them what’s going on, and they’ll understand. They’re probably getting fed up with me right now, and given my history that’s understandable, but eventually they’ll understand.”
“How do you know they’ll understand?” She asked.
“If they didn’t understand you’re little foibles,” I told her. “you wouldn’t still be with them. Besides, they know Debbie and they like Debbie.”
“How…” she started, but I walked over her sentence again.
“If they didn’t at least get along with her, you wouldn’t be with them or you’d have stopped seeing her,” I said and shrugged. “Simple.”
“You know how long I’ve been in love with you?” she asked, laughing a little.
“When Becky first brought you to the
“She didn’t bring me,” she said. “I was just in tow.”
“Was that it?” I asked. “Was it love at first sight?”
“No,” she shook her head. “That time that Oliver left me at the Palace after that concert and the only person I could think of was you.”
“When I picked you up?”
“Yeah,” she nodded and I thought tears were coming. “You know, that was the first time anyone had ever gone out of their way to help me, and you
“I remember,” I said. “But I didn’t really need to ask anything, you told me the whole thing when I got there.”
“But you didn’t interrogate me, you didn’t make me feel stupid about it. You just came and helped me and didn’t talk about it to anyone. I felt like you’d saved me, and you
“Was that the right reason to fall in love with someone?” I asked.
“I don’t know,” she shook her head. “But I did, and even when I was mad at you, I was still in love with you, because you were a hero to me.”
“I’m not sure if I’m really the hero everyone thinks I am. I think people keep building a myth in their heads and making me out to be more than I am.”
“You’re my hero,” she smiled.
“What about Pete…or Angela I suppose,” I said after a moment’s thought. “Don’t want to be sexist.”
“They’re good, they love me, but you’re my hero.” She looked at her watch. “I probably should get home anyway. It’s going to be a long drive. Besides, you need call the federal agent girl. I’ll see you in a couple of days.”
“
Thursday, August 5, 2010
Might as well talk about Prop 8
You know what I haven't talked about? The Prop 8 thing. I actually feel like this ruling has helped me as a heterosexual. How? Well, for one thing it goes one more step to declaring we’re going to treat people like people. It states, once again, that no one groups’ idea of god should get to make the rules. That’s important for me because I refuse to let child molesters, murders, rapists and thieves lecture me on morality.
I always have a problem when people claim their idea of a god has told them it’s okay to hate anyone. One of the major problems I have with religion, particularly the ones that follow the God of Abraham, is their amazing ability to justify the statement “Those people over there aren’t really people so we can do whatever we want to them.” Far as I can tell, they got started in Deuteronomy and in one form or another they’ve kept up the idea right up ‘til today. Be it the Canaanites, the Saracens, the Blacks, the Jews, the indigenous people of damn near everywhere whitey has shown his pale face, the Christians, the Irish, or the Homosexuals. There has always been a man with a book that says it’s okay to hate these guys because some idea of a god he’s got in his head says so. Quite frequently, that idea of god doesn’t seem to match the idea that’s presented by the very book he’s waving around.
I rarely ever go into my specific views or practices on religion. I sort of don’t think it’s worth explaining. They’re private, and they’ve got nothing to do with you. I feel that I should make some statements here though, before I go much further. I am neither an atheist nor am I an agnostic. I believe, and I know exactly what it is I believe. However, beyond that, my relationships with higher powers are an affair between myself and those powers. It’s complicated, exhausting and most of all private. I will state though that I don’t actually worship anyone. My devotion is an act of service, and I’m supposed to be too busy to kiss the boss’s ass. Got to keep working. It’s a work to make the world a fairer place, if not a better one. I seek no converts, I have no group, and I wish to make no further explanation on the path I follow. Private, personal, mine.
It’s important to mention this though, that I am not some high-minded atheist looking down on what I consider to be the drooling masses. No, I’m right here with you, in the club of those who have faith. I’ve read most the books, because I needed to know about the people I would run into. Having read, I’ve gotta say, Jesus would be very displeased with most the people calling themselves Christians today. I was going over some of it the other day and I was actually sort of shocked at his lack of ambiguity. The words of Jesus, as reported in the Bible, are very clear and require no further interpretation. The only reason to interpret his statements is to try and twist them into a lie.
I still have problems of course, because sin is brought up and I find sin to be a particularly hateful idea. Most the things that are sins are the sorts of things that most gods don’t bother with. Zeus doesn’t care if you shave, eat shellfish, or fornicate with your neighbor’s ass. Zeus cares if you fail to offer him his due, or if you burn down his temples, but he never shoves a lightning bolt up your ass because he doesn’t like the cut of your dual-cloth jib. Odin might go a bit crazy from time to time, but I’ve never read him worrying about people having sex before marriage. I find sin particularly hard to handle because so many things that are considered sinful are done so by what amounts to the nosey old woman down the block watching you with her binoculars and telling everyone how she doesn’t approve of how long your hair is. That’s just a god being nosey and getting all up in my bidness, and I am well known for cutting a bitch what gets all up in my grill and tries to start shit. You ask Odin how he lost that eye sometime… and he’ll tell you it was Loki that tricked him. It was, but I was sort of hoping to ride the insinuation, but my innate honesty spoiled the fun once again.
One cannot put aside how offensive I find the idea of sin, because it is really the central complaint. I honestly find the concept of sin to be singularly offensive, particularly since four people in a room together, of the exact same faith, can’t even come up with a complete list of what a sin actually is. Even when they make a partial list, it tends to be things that are universal. Even atheists agree that murder and theft are wrong and should be punished. That’s not sin, it’s just the rules of an organized society. Sin is just a catch all for whatever the particular person happens not to like. SINFUL! It’s just them trying to use some higher authority to back up their own weak ass arguments which have no reasonable or rational basis in reality.
Sin is often at the heart of the reasons why homosexuals shouldn’t be allowed to marry, or why blacks shouldn’t be allowed to marry whites, or why Catholics shouldn’t marry Jews, or why the Hittites can’t be allowed to exist. This amorphous idea called sin, which when you get down to it, tends to be as easy to nail down as smoke. The Hittites, Amorites, Canaanites, Perizzites, Hivites, and the Jebusites evidently were all idol worshippers, which was a sin. Who said so? The guy they didn’t want to worship. The guy who claims that if left alive they would teach them evil ways and cause them to sin. There’s that word again. So they were to be destroyed utterly. One might call that the act of a jealous fucktard who demanded that anyone who didn’t worship him was to be destroyed utterly. One might call it the demand of a genocidal fucktard, who just wanted the land for his own people. One might call it the work of a racist fucktard, who hated anyone who wasn’t a Hebrew. One might even go so far as to say it was the work of some lying fucktards who said god told them it was cool to rape, murder and pillage because their idea of god said so. I grant, rape isn’t spelled out as a thing to do, but since they weren’t going to leave alive anything that breathes and could accuse them later, I’m going to go ahead and put it on the list. Just so long as it’s understood that I take Deuteronomy 20:17 to be the words of a fucktard really, that’s my point.
I don’t want to be ruled by your idea of God, and believe me, you don’t want to be ruled by mine. Mine is a taskmaster. There isn’t time for things like sin and commandments and lists of things not to eat, there’s too much WORK to do.
I always have a problem when people claim their idea of a god has told them it’s okay to hate anyone. One of the major problems I have with religion, particularly the ones that follow the God of Abraham, is their amazing ability to justify the statement “Those people over there aren’t really people so we can do whatever we want to them.” Far as I can tell, they got started in Deuteronomy and in one form or another they’ve kept up the idea right up ‘til today. Be it the Canaanites, the Saracens, the Blacks, the Jews, the indigenous people of damn near everywhere whitey has shown his pale face, the Christians, the Irish, or the Homosexuals. There has always been a man with a book that says it’s okay to hate these guys because some idea of a god he’s got in his head says so. Quite frequently, that idea of god doesn’t seem to match the idea that’s presented by the very book he’s waving around.
I rarely ever go into my specific views or practices on religion. I sort of don’t think it’s worth explaining. They’re private, and they’ve got nothing to do with you. I feel that I should make some statements here though, before I go much further. I am neither an atheist nor am I an agnostic. I believe, and I know exactly what it is I believe. However, beyond that, my relationships with higher powers are an affair between myself and those powers. It’s complicated, exhausting and most of all private. I will state though that I don’t actually worship anyone. My devotion is an act of service, and I’m supposed to be too busy to kiss the boss’s ass. Got to keep working. It’s a work to make the world a fairer place, if not a better one. I seek no converts, I have no group, and I wish to make no further explanation on the path I follow. Private, personal, mine.
It’s important to mention this though, that I am not some high-minded atheist looking down on what I consider to be the drooling masses. No, I’m right here with you, in the club of those who have faith. I’ve read most the books, because I needed to know about the people I would run into. Having read, I’ve gotta say, Jesus would be very displeased with most the people calling themselves Christians today. I was going over some of it the other day and I was actually sort of shocked at his lack of ambiguity. The words of Jesus, as reported in the Bible, are very clear and require no further interpretation. The only reason to interpret his statements is to try and twist them into a lie.
I still have problems of course, because sin is brought up and I find sin to be a particularly hateful idea. Most the things that are sins are the sorts of things that most gods don’t bother with. Zeus doesn’t care if you shave, eat shellfish, or fornicate with your neighbor’s ass. Zeus cares if you fail to offer him his due, or if you burn down his temples, but he never shoves a lightning bolt up your ass because he doesn’t like the cut of your dual-cloth jib. Odin might go a bit crazy from time to time, but I’ve never read him worrying about people having sex before marriage. I find sin particularly hard to handle because so many things that are considered sinful are done so by what amounts to the nosey old woman down the block watching you with her binoculars and telling everyone how she doesn’t approve of how long your hair is. That’s just a god being nosey and getting all up in my bidness, and I am well known for cutting a bitch what gets all up in my grill and tries to start shit. You ask Odin how he lost that eye sometime… and he’ll tell you it was Loki that tricked him. It was, but I was sort of hoping to ride the insinuation, but my innate honesty spoiled the fun once again.
One cannot put aside how offensive I find the idea of sin, because it is really the central complaint. I honestly find the concept of sin to be singularly offensive, particularly since four people in a room together, of the exact same faith, can’t even come up with a complete list of what a sin actually is. Even when they make a partial list, it tends to be things that are universal. Even atheists agree that murder and theft are wrong and should be punished. That’s not sin, it’s just the rules of an organized society. Sin is just a catch all for whatever the particular person happens not to like. SINFUL! It’s just them trying to use some higher authority to back up their own weak ass arguments which have no reasonable or rational basis in reality.
Sin is often at the heart of the reasons why homosexuals shouldn’t be allowed to marry, or why blacks shouldn’t be allowed to marry whites, or why Catholics shouldn’t marry Jews, or why the Hittites can’t be allowed to exist. This amorphous idea called sin, which when you get down to it, tends to be as easy to nail down as smoke. The Hittites, Amorites, Canaanites, Perizzites, Hivites, and the Jebusites evidently were all idol worshippers, which was a sin. Who said so? The guy they didn’t want to worship. The guy who claims that if left alive they would teach them evil ways and cause them to sin. There’s that word again. So they were to be destroyed utterly. One might call that the act of a jealous fucktard who demanded that anyone who didn’t worship him was to be destroyed utterly. One might call it the demand of a genocidal fucktard, who just wanted the land for his own people. One might call it the work of a racist fucktard, who hated anyone who wasn’t a Hebrew. One might even go so far as to say it was the work of some lying fucktards who said god told them it was cool to rape, murder and pillage because their idea of god said so. I grant, rape isn’t spelled out as a thing to do, but since they weren’t going to leave alive anything that breathes and could accuse them later, I’m going to go ahead and put it on the list. Just so long as it’s understood that I take Deuteronomy 20:17 to be the words of a fucktard really, that’s my point.
I don’t want to be ruled by your idea of God, and believe me, you don’t want to be ruled by mine. Mine is a taskmaster. There isn’t time for things like sin and commandments and lists of things not to eat, there’s too much WORK to do.
Wednesday, August 4, 2010
War Through Film
So, let me tell you the history of War through the medium of movies.
Civil War is analogous to a movie you see.
The secessionists are snakes.
The blacks are a witness being transported.
Grant & Lincoln are a federal agent
The country is a plane.
For the early part, the snakes win. Some heroes rise, others fall, and no matter how competent Samuel L. Jackson might be, there’s just not enough of him to go around. The cranky asshole businessman? He’s Mcclellan. The dog he throws to a snake? That’s his career. The blacks wanted to help, but kept being told to stay up in the front of the plane by Lincoln. Snakes keep winning, until about Gettysburg. That is when Grant stands up and says “Enough is ENOUGH! I have had with these motherfucking Rebels in this motherfucking country! Everybody strap yourself in, I’m about to open some fuckin’ windows.” Then Grant and Sherman land the bitch and save the day.
And THAT is likely the last time you will ever hear anyone claiming that Kenan Thompson played Gen. Sherman in a movie.
World War Two is also a movie
The bullies (Axis) start fights, beat up a lot of people. America sits back and lets them, just wanting not to be part of it. A few fights happen, America has a mental struggle about wanting to fight back. Then, something happens. Might be smashing a car, might be destroying a prized possession, might be the bombing of Pearl Harbor. It doesn’t matter. The bully goes too far and America decides that they’ve had enough and decided that fighting back is really the only thing to do. So, they work out, learn from a master, go to the tournament and kick everybody’s ass. Yup. World War Two is The Karate Kid.
The Revolutionary War is simple.
Rich kids are dicks and keep the poor kids down for no other reason than the rich kids are dicks. So the poor kids? They lose, lose, lose, and lose some more. They’ve got spirit, but who can fight these rich bullies? About the 400th time they’ve got their butts kicked and it looks like the rich kids are going to win… someone gives a speech. It’s a rousing speech, a great speech and Epic Speech of Epicness. The Poor Losers, now roused to a level they’ve never been roused to before, put in what has to be the Rock Montage to end all Rock Montages. They call some friends, get some gear, and in one wild strike win the day! The Revolutionary War is just about every Teen 80s movie ever made.
Civil War is analogous to a movie you see.
The secessionists are snakes.
The blacks are a witness being transported.
Grant & Lincoln are a federal agent
The country is a plane.
For the early part, the snakes win. Some heroes rise, others fall, and no matter how competent Samuel L. Jackson might be, there’s just not enough of him to go around. The cranky asshole businessman? He’s Mcclellan. The dog he throws to a snake? That’s his career. The blacks wanted to help, but kept being told to stay up in the front of the plane by Lincoln. Snakes keep winning, until about Gettysburg. That is when Grant stands up and says “Enough is ENOUGH! I have had with these motherfucking Rebels in this motherfucking country! Everybody strap yourself in, I’m about to open some fuckin’ windows.” Then Grant and Sherman land the bitch and save the day.
And THAT is likely the last time you will ever hear anyone claiming that Kenan Thompson played Gen. Sherman in a movie.
World War Two is also a movie
The bullies (Axis) start fights, beat up a lot of people. America sits back and lets them, just wanting not to be part of it. A few fights happen, America has a mental struggle about wanting to fight back. Then, something happens. Might be smashing a car, might be destroying a prized possession, might be the bombing of Pearl Harbor. It doesn’t matter. The bully goes too far and America decides that they’ve had enough and decided that fighting back is really the only thing to do. So, they work out, learn from a master, go to the tournament and kick everybody’s ass. Yup. World War Two is The Karate Kid.
The Revolutionary War is simple.
Rich kids are dicks and keep the poor kids down for no other reason than the rich kids are dicks. So the poor kids? They lose, lose, lose, and lose some more. They’ve got spirit, but who can fight these rich bullies? About the 400th time they’ve got their butts kicked and it looks like the rich kids are going to win… someone gives a speech. It’s a rousing speech, a great speech and Epic Speech of Epicness. The Poor Losers, now roused to a level they’ve never been roused to before, put in what has to be the Rock Montage to end all Rock Montages. They call some friends, get some gear, and in one wild strike win the day! The Revolutionary War is just about every Teen 80s movie ever made.
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