Still, whenever I hear it, I want to get on a horse and charge at someone with a sword. Or possibly call down lightning.

AH HA! FEEL MY WRATH, YOU … WHOEVER!

Thanks.:-) Good to see at least one person thought it was funny. I guess that’s what inside jokes are for.

I almost horked coffee on that one!

- 8:01 Arrived at work. Out in the intersection, regular panhandler is gone. Instead there’s a guy with a drum. Couldn’t hear what he was playing.

- 12:05 Left for lunch. Drummer Boy’s still out there WTF? Girl at Quiznos said he’s playing the beginning of Bolero. Hasn’t stopped.

- 12:51 Back from lunch. Bolero Boy’s still tapping away at the intersection. Drivers try to offer him money, but he won’t acknowledge them.

- 13:44 Other people have noticed Bolero Boy, too. They say he hasn’t changed volume or tempo. They think he’s … waiting.:-0

- 14:32 Left to meet a client. Tap-tap-tap-tap. Now there’s two guys with cellos milling around, and a clarinetist talking on her cell phone.

Ravel’s “Bolero.” Yep. Always blow me away. Really.

If I wrote/directed an action movie, I would find some way of drafting and shooting an entire 17 min 19 sec series of fistfights, shootouts, chase scenes, and explosions–all to the symphonic gold that Ravel mined. At the bottom of the Academy voters’ DVD offering during that very scene would appear FOR YOUR CONSIDERATION. That’s how loaded with awesome said action scene would be just because of “Bolero.”

Now, let’s just toss ol’ Ted Nugent into the mix. The Nuge. Uncle Ted.

His guitar-god-awesome “Stranglehold” features a “Bolero” section crafted by Ted’s bandmate and friend Cliff Davies, who passed away back in April.

If I wrote/directed an action movie, I would also find some way of drafting and shooting an entire 8 min 22 sec series of . . . okay, you get it. But I’m serious. 25 min 41 sec of my dream action movie.

Oh, and the name of the movie would be _Takin’ Names_ as in “kickin’ ass and takin’ names.”

Now all it needs is plot, character arcs, treatment, script, and financial backing.

August 1, 1945: The final practice run is complete. Any organism or structure in that stretch of New Mexico desert is now a distant memory. As our confidence in the efficacy of the procedure grows, our doubts–by that I mean Mesingger, Parrish, and myself–continue to expand. It is too late now to stop, but I begin to wonder, will history remember us as heroes, or as monsters?

August 6, 1945: It is done. In place of the small sample of gray sand, they placed a brick from a Hiroshima building. The process was no different. The generators roared, the room filled with thauma-static energy until the five us felt as if we would explode. Franks took the lead, focusing the energy into the brick and we, in turn, joined in. So much power in the hands of so few. It was heady and terrifying. But it is done now. I feel relief quell my angst. The war will end soon. Thank God!

August 7, 1945: Mesingger has not taken it well. He appears haunted and I cannot blame him. Over 100,000 dead, we hear. 100,000.

August 8, 1945: They demand a second attack. So many lives lost and they are not sated. God help the people of Nagasaki.

August 9, 1945: Did Franks know? When they placed that second brick down, did he know it was not from Japan, but Dresden? Am I twice a monster, nay three times, for valuing the lives of Europeans over those of other nations? Though they too became monsters, they were once my countrymen. Another 100,000 gone.

August 10, 1945: Mesingger is dead by his own hand. I cannot say I blame him. I fear too greatly my assured damnation to take my own life. We are celebrated as saviors, peace-bringers, but, my God, the cost!

August 11, 1945: Parrish, his motives a mystery, tried to break into the Sanctum last night. The guards shot him dead, but not before he managed to destroy much of the building. A corned thaumaturge is a dangerous thing indeed, even without the technology of the Sanctum. What madness has begun to take us?

August 12, 1945: They claim Parrish meant to take control of the machines, to use them to destroy our government and create a thaumacracy. It is a lie! I know they are coming for me now. O’Rourke and Franks are likely dead already. How fast our fall from grace. How easily they come to fear us.

Hellboy II was visually awesome thanks to Del Toro. But I had three major issues with the movie.

1. It was stupid.

2. It was stupid.

3. Seriously, it was stupid.

To elaborate:

1. It was stupid. Prince Nuada kicked butt. He was way cool. He was by far cooler than Hellboy. And his cause was the more just. He should have won. I’d rather see “Silverspear 2″ than “Hellboy 3.”

2. Krauss was crap. How are we supposed to connect with or feel emotion for a frickin faceless diving suit? Even one with slapstick sensibilities? Or rather, ESPECIALLY one with slapstick sensibilities? He was just stupid.

3. It was STUPID (SPOILER ALERT)
There they all are, standing outside the Troll Market. The princess that the prince is looking for is standing right there, with the crown piece AND the map that the prince wants.

The prince brings out an object that the princess clearly reacts to as being dangerous. Yet they all just stand around and watch as it slooooooowly opens and ejects something shiny at them. SHOOT THE PRINCE! SHOOT THE EGG! SHOOT SOMETHING FOR CHRIST’S SAKE! Gawd, this is stupid!

Then Hellboy and fish-dude are off trying to stop the elemental. And does the Prince grab the unprotected princess? Nope. Why? Well, because, um … sorry, got nothing. It was just stupid.

Then Nuada tries to make Hellboy feel guilty for killing the elemental, the last of its kind – after Nuada is the one who sicked the poor creature on Hellboy in the middle of a city! If you want the thing to be safe and happy, release it in the middle of a quiet forest, you hypocrite! Stoooo-PID!

http://www.guardian.co.uk/books/2003/dec/08/top10s.science.fiction.women

There is an article in Scientific American exploring whether Batman is possible – could someone really be Batman?

http://www.sciam.com/article.cfm?id=dark-knight-shift-why-bat

This reminded me that my friend Ben and I have debated in the past whether or not Batman is a superhero or costumed adventurer (you know, before we were cool. You’d never catch me going on about superheroes now … oh, wait.). This was around the same time that we were debating the definition of “Ironic,” thanks to Alanis Morissette’s song. But that’s a whole other topic.

Ben’s basic argument regarding superheroes was that to be a superhero you have to have super powers. Therefore, Batman is not a superhero, he is a costumed adventurer.

Exceptions to his rule, he allowed, are those heroes who are entirely dependent on supernormal means to perform their activities, such as Iron Man. Unlike Batman, whose primary tools are his keen intellect, training, and combat skills, Iron Man is entirely dependent on his suit to be able to perform any “superhero” actions.

My argument was:
A superhero is someone who has devoted their life to being a hero, to helping others, to fighting villainous enemies in ugly pastel costumes and to battling hunger (by handing out Hostess products), etcetera, AND consistently uses extraordinary means to do so, means that are not commonly available to or used by the common hero.

On the other hand, I could have super powers and act the part of a hero, but not be particularly “super.” What if my power was that I could produce sticky-note glue with my tongue? I could decide that, although my power is not great, I have been obviously marked as something other than normal, and this is a sign that I should be a “superhero.” So I sew myself a costume, and run around trying to fight crime. Mostly, I get beat up. But occasionally, I come across a crime that I can prevent. And I leave a note behind telling other criminals to beware my vengeance — sticky-glued to the criminals forehead!! Ah-Ha! Stickyman was here! Therefore, I have super powers, and I fight crime. So should I be called a superhero, while Batman is not? I think not.

Batman has devoted his life to being a hero, and goes to extraordinary lengths and uses extraordinary means to do good. He is, therefore, a superhero.

(I was also going to say he hangs with the “Super” friends, but then, so did Wendy, Marvin, and Wonderdog, and they were definitely costumed adventurers. Not to mention the Wonder Twins — I mean, come on, form of a frickin bucket of water? Are you serious?).

To which Ben countered:
Jason (of the Argonauts) did all kinds of great shite, and nobody calls him a SUPER-hero. He’s just a hero. The super part stems directly from the super-powers.

Hercules, on the other hand, who has super-powers, has been adopted by comic book culture (Marvel Comics) and dubbed a super-hero. Because he has super-powers.

Popularity or the scale of heroic accomplishments has nothing to with it. Clearly Batman has performed many more heroic feats than Hercules in the world of comics and also has sold a lot more comics than Hercules, yet Hercules having some super-human powers is a super-hero while Batman is a costumed adventurer.

Someone who has devoted their life to fighting crime but who is not part of a traditional publicly-funded crime-fighting institution is a “vigilante.” If they have superpowers, however, they are a superhero.

As far as the ability to produce sticky-note glue with your tongue, that’s a super-power. But possessing a super-power does not make you a super-hero. You could also be a super-villain, or you could simply be a super-powered individual. Being a super-hero requires being a hero, and being a hero requires being effective.

On the Other Hand
I look at Zorro. There is a man who does extraordinary things, is devoted to being a hero, and wears a costume like Batman. Yet I still would call Batman a superhero while I would call Zorro a costumed adventurer.

If pressed, I guess I would say this difference is based on Batman’s use of nifty gadgets, and doing things like flying off of roofs with his grapplers or cape. Whereas Zorro used means common to the time – a sword and a horse – albeit with exceptional skill.

But does that mean if you strip away the bata-thingys, Batman becomes a costumed adventurer and not a superhero?

Unfortunately, if you believe the Scientific American article, the debate becomes somewhat moot since apparently the depictions of Batman fighting 10 opponents at a time and having exceptional speed and strength and agility all together imply superhuman abilities.

On the other hand, I have the strength, speed, agility, and intelligence of ten men, and I don’t consider myself “super.” But then, I also have the humility of twelve zen monks, and the modesty of seven Victorian nuns at the beach.