Lazy Sunday With Heavy Weather

Yesterday’s Kung Fu demonstration (pics and story soon at sifulee.com) was flawless, and the crowd appreciative.

I am sunburned. My scalp is pink like cotton candy.

Today, I think I will work on my Flash adventure game. It is still in the nebulous stage, but I can tell you this: It will be isometric-view, square tiles, the game engine in Flash and all of the configuration information and game variables in XML. Eventually it will be something like Winkelman’s Infinitely Extensible Universal Adventure Game Platform. But you know, at least half the fun in is figuring out how to build the thing. After that, actually building it seems like kind of a let-down.

Horoshii denh Rozhdeniy

Happy Birthday to me,
Happy Birthday to me,
I probably have to work until midnight tonight!!!!
Happy Birthday to me!!!

So: What did you get me?

As thanks to the universe for reconfiguring itself so that I may exist in this space-time continuum, today I am going to Kick Ass and Take Names.

A few weeks back a spoiled brat 18-year-old high school senior named Blair L. Hornstine was named co-valedictorian, along with two other people. Instead of being gracious and congratulating her classmates on their good fortune, or even simply protesting the school’s decision to have more valedictorians than the traditional One, she sued her school for $2,700,000.

Her excuse was that, because she suffered from an immune deficiency, she deserved special privileges, among which apparently was the privilege to acquire by cheating something she couldn’t get by skill. So far the public response has been a unanimous “Grow Up and Get A Life”.

Yesterday it came to light that she had plagiarized some articles she had written for her school newspaper. Her excuse was “I’m not a professional journalist. I didn’t know these things.” That excuse might have flown had she used it before she sued her school, but with that act she forever lost any and all right to ever complain about any unethical behavior anywhere in the universe.

Also, her father is a judge.

So now there is an online petition asking Harvard to rescind their invitation for her to start college in September. As of this post there are around 1700 signatures. I think it would be a nice birthday present to me, if I could see the total hit ten thousand before the end of the day.

More to follow as I think up other Good Works to perform on this, the 34th anniversary of the beginning of my current incarnation.

A Mystery Solved

Back in the bookstore days I was the Special Orders manager. It was my job to hunt down and procure all of the books which weren’t on the shelves when the customers needed them. Given the generally dismal state of published books, and the generally banal tastes of the majority of the readers, it was seldom a particularly exciting job.

In every retail job there are, for better and for worse, regular customers. I like to think ours were a cut above the usual, simply because all of them could read. The majority were decent people, although some were quirky to the point of being unable to function well in public.

One in particular, who I will refer to hereafter as Cat Lady, was a thorn in my side for several years, and finally I pushed her off onto my replacement when I left the retail world.

Cat Lady was a Wiccan. She was in her (I think) forties and had the most tenuous grasp of reality I had encountered outside of my college philosophy classes. Judging from what and how often she ordered she must have had the largest Occult library in West Michigan. She liked to cast spells. She had friends who liked to cast spells. They would get together on Thursdays.

I like to imagine that they were trying to destroy the world.

There was one book which I was never able to procure for her: the Witches Bible Compleat; a tome which supposedly contained all the Majickal Wisdome of the Worlde. She must have ordered the thing ten times. The Publisher, Magical Childe, was difficult in the extreme to contact, and as often as not my inquiries were returned, unopened.

In between attempts at the WBC Cat Lady snapped up pretty much every other book on majic, magic, magick, majyq and madjich. She avoided the Satanic goofballs like Anton LaVey, and had no real interest in the Necronomicon. She dug Crowley. She was all about numerology.

But for all the trying, I was never able to get my/her hands on the Witches Bible Compleat.

Finally I just told her it was out of print, and to stop ordering it. She responded by sending a check to a local liquor establishment instead of to the bookstore, then yelling at me for a half hour because I didn’t have it in my hands the day she put it in the mail.

A great deal of stress caused by a book which may never have existed.

Earlier today I was browsing around on Fark and I came across this story which, in the process of debunking the existence of the Necronomicon, solved the mystery of What Happened to Magical Childe.

So then, there is a sort of symmetry in the universe.

Cat Lady, I hope this helps. For the rest of you, the article is a great read.

Vox Populi

Slashdot has a good conversation going on about the proposed Public Domain Enhancement Act. More information can be found at the Eric Eldred Act website.

Some things. One, thanks to my job I am feeling pretty burned out about the whole internet thing. I will recover. I always do.

Two, Thursday, June 5 is my birthday! W00t!!1!1!1

Three, in my more than ample free time I am attempting to put together a Flash/XML-based adventure game, reminiscent of the early Ultima games.

More later.

Kung Fu Fighting

The tournament on Saturday was a lot of fun. Six people competed and we brought home nine medals. Photos are here , and a writeup will be following shortly.

Yes, that is the Flash photo application I created a couple of weeks ago. It still has some rough spots but it works. You will need the latest version of the Flash 6 player to use it.

Sifu Chung, the event host and organizer, told us a few weeks ago that there would be a Praying Mantis sifu at the tournament who had studied with Master Lee ‘s instructor Chiu Chuk Kai (hereafter referred to as Sigong). This instructor, Sifu Tony Chuy, studied with Sigong in Hong Kong after Master Lee came to America. All the time he was a student he had heard stories about Master Lee but had never met him.

Before the tournament started we noticed someone we didn’t recognize but who was wearing the crest of our style of Kung Fu. He was obviously looking for someone, so when he got close, Rick said “Are you from New York?”

“Yes.”

“This is Sifu Lee.”

Sifu Chuy said “Okay”, then he flinched and and his jaw hit the floor when he realized that the person he had been waiting for 25 years to meet was right in front of him.

As fun as the rest of the day was, that was the best moment.

We don’t have a lot of contact with other schools, so it is easy to forget how big the world of martial arts really is. For instance, on Saturday I watched people performing Tai Chi Praying Mantis kung fu, Seven Star Praying Mantis kung fu, Wing Chun, Jow Gar, Pak Mei and Kempo. I saw Jeung, Wu, Yang and Chen style Tai Chi,and I participated in an Iron Shirt Chi Kung demonstration. All of this at a small (though highly respected) martial arts tournament in Midland.

It is good to be reminded that we are part of such an extraordinary world.

Stardust

If thou beest borne to strange sights, Things invisible to see,
Ride ten thousand daies and nights,
Till age snow white haires on thee,
Thou, when thou retorn’st, wilt tell mee
All strange wonders that befell thee…

Marc Joseph Oettinger
September 28, 1975 – May 23, 2003
Godspeed

On Not Letting Art Die

Lawrence Lessig has been fighting the Good Fight , trying to get the Eldred Act bill introduced to congress. He has posted a link to make it easier to contact your elected servant . The Eldred Act FAQ is here .

I can hear you thinking: Why should I care about books and music staying copyrighted forever? The answer is, human greed. When a book is no longer bringing in money for a publisher, they stop printing it. It goes “out of print”. They still own the book. No-one else can print copies of the book. The copies that have been printed are the only copies which will ever be printed.

Sometimes, occasionally, rarely, the publisher will sell the rights to another publisher, so that the new publisher can print the book. After a while, the book isn’t bringing in any money, and goes out of print. Given that publishers seldom trade rights back and forth, this makes little difference in the overall scheme of the copyright-induced loss of history and culture.

I will tell you this: My very favorite book as a child was Go Dog Go. It was published in 1961. Someday I plan to have a kid or two. If that book is out of print when I need it, I will find a used copy, scan it, make .jpgs of it, and release it to every file-sharing service in existence. Publisher copyright be damned. The owners of the rights to Go Dog Go do not have my permission to allow the book to go out of print. If it does, and they do not WITHIN NANOSECONDS either sell the rights or release the book to the public domain, then that is a crime against every person ever read, and every person who will never read, Mr. Eastman’s wonderful book.

Laws do not matter, property rights do not matter. Only the easy and continued availability of the book matters. This applies not only to Go Dog Go, but to every book, poem, essay, op/ed piece, song, play and story ever published in this country. Let none of them ever again be unavailable to the public for any reason.

In other news, here is a picture of a mushroom.

The Muse Is Upon Me

Above the pond, a duck;
below, a carp.
Between them, the sky.

A dozen empty traps,
teeth full of dust;
my guests have taken their leave.

The elephant tree
is all hair and bones,
but still he blocks out
half the sky.

re: Visions

I began to read Jim Harrison when one of my college professors came in to the bookstore to pick up a copy of Wolf. This was about the time that the movie of the same name, written by the same author, but having nothing to do with the book, was in the theaters.

So, being fresh enough out of college that I still wanted to read everything the professors were reading, I picked it up. Since then I have read just about everything Harrison has written, and even attempted to read things others have written about him. The latter tend to be kind of shallow and boring. There are two collections of his articles and essays currently in print, and some collections which contain his work.

Harrison has a new book out – a conversation in verse with longtime friend Ted Kooser, called Braided River. The conversation takes the form of short verses – three to six lines, usually, which can easily be imagined scribbled on the back of postcards in the midst of cross-country drives. The tone of the verses, which alternate between Harrison and Kooser, feels like gentle jazz riffs on traditional haiku:

We flap our gums, our wattles, our
featherless wings in non-native air
to avoid being planted in earth,
watching the bellies of passing birds.

On its stand on the empty stage
the tuba with its big brass ear
enjoys the silence

The verses alternate between authors, but there is no mention of who wrote what. The back cover of the book says When asked about attributions for the individual poems, one of them replied, “Everyone gets tired of of this continuing cult of the personality… This book is an assertion in favor of poetry and against credentials.”

Having not yet read any of Kooser’s individual work I can’t say for certain which verses are his, but many of Harrison’s are obvious, and read like inside jokes to his old friend.

Braided Creek is a thoroughly enjoyable read. With so much of what is published today relying on pop culture references and turgid vocabularies, the simple, real verses within are a refreshing change, like cold water on a sunburned scalp.

The one-eyed man must be fearful
of being taken for a birdhouse.

What is it the wind has lost
that she keeps looking for
under each leaf?

To have reverence for life
you must have reverence for death.
The dogs we love are not taken from us
but leave when summoned by the gods.