He Did It All for the Nyuki – Part 4

Posted November 2, 2001 By Kevin Ott

KO: Are you hoping to achieve that with The Sandwalk Adventures as well?

JH: Well, Sandwalk has potential to be much higher profile, because it deals with Darwin and it deals with evolution. And because those two things are so contentious. Part of the desire to produce The Sandwalk Adventures is because I’m a Darwinophile, and the other part is that this argument, to me, doesn’t need to be as contentious as it is. In fact, in the United States, we’re notorious for it being so, well, awful. I deal with Preemie Print and Litho in Canada, and Kevin Johnson works there and handles my covers. We were talking about my covers one day, and he had seen the interiors and read it. And he asked me, “Is this going to be a problem down in the States?” And it occurred to me, that here is someone from another country, who speaks English, that’s European, essentially. They don’t have this problem. They don’t view Darwin as a threat to anything. And yet we have entire school systems in our country — states, you know, Kansas as well — where it’s not required. My wife’s a teacher, and we know that when you say something’s not required, then you have tests that are testing children’s knowledge, the required things don’t really get addressed. Ninety percent of all biologists will tell you that evolution is the key framing element of biology. And so I guess in some ways, aside from my Darwinophilia, the other goal in The Sandwalk Adventures is to contribute an explanation of evolution that’s relatively straightforward, that’s simple without being simplistic, and that can at least educate those that may not believe that evolution occurs. Because so much of the argument on either side springs from either an inadvertent or willful misrepresentation and misunderstanding of the other side. And so I just want to contribute: “Here is what I know. I’m a biologist.” Of course there’s another part of me that wants to find a place to have it banned someplace, because when something gets banned, the sales go through the roof.

KO: Well, here’s hoping. Let’s talk about you having two jobs. How do you compare and contrast your roles as writer and artist with your roles as teacher and scientist?

JH: I find them to be very similar. During the day, I spend the day researching. When you talk about being a lecturer at a small college, your primary responsibilities, at least during the year, are teaching. In the summer we get to do research, and I’ll get to do a little more research during the year once I get more established. But during the year, it’s primarily teaching, and in order to teach, you have to prepare a lecture, and in order to prepare a lecture, you have to read reference material, you have to distill certain elements, and you have to write the lecture. Usually it’s an outline. For me, at least. Oftentimes, you have to illustrate it in some way. You have to pull up images to illustrate your point, to use in your PowerPoint slides, to show to your students. And so in reality, writing a lecture is writing a story that’s illustrated and has a plot that fits within the allotted 50 minutes.

Doing The Sandwalk Adventures is very similar. I have a story that has to fit within 22 pages. I have to illustrate it. It has to have a plot. Just like in a classroom lecture, you have objective points that you have to cover in that 50 minutes, I have objective points that I want to cover in those 22 pages. And so one informs the other in helping me construct lectures and to write stories. I think the big difference is that I get paid to teach, and that’s what most of my time is spent doing. And with my son, and we actually have another one on the way, the amount of time to do cartooning dwindles. And so I’ve actually changed the way in which I did it. With Clan Apis, each issue I’d probably write about eight pages, then I’d draw those pages, then I’d write the next eight pages and I’d draw those pages. Now what I do is I write the entire story, and then once I’ve got the story I draw piecemeal through the day and then sometimes in the evening when I get a half hour or 45 minutes here or there to finish things off.

But being an academic has really helped me with this Darwin story. And the Darwin story has actually helped me to be a better academic, because what I’m doing is history, and history’s hard. I mean, biology’s hard, but history’s hard. You have all these resources, and you’ll never have enough. I’ll never do it in the depth that a true historian does, so I have twelve references where they have twelve hundred. And so you’re confronted with situations of determining which references are reliable, which is something you do when you prepare a lecture or write a paper. You’re faced with the question of “Do I have enough information on this to go ahead?” So they really complement each other.

KO: Do you use Clan Apis in the classroom?

JH: I have.

        

He Did It All for the Nyuki – Part 3

Posted November 2, 2001 By Kevin Ott

KO: When I first read the book, the two parts that struck me specifically were Nyuki’s death in the end, and the part at the beginning of the fourth chapter where a bee from the neighboring hive tries to invade Nyuki’s hive, and is then killed by the rest of the bees.

JH: Tha’s probably the best example. The thought is, these are our heroes. These are our characters that we care about. And it’s really easy for us, it’s potentially easy when we write a story, to slap a human moral structure on this and say the bees will find a way not to kill, when in reality, this is what bees do. And I think that softening it up detracts from the truth. And ultimately I wanted to portray something that could be — and is — used in classrooms, in science classrooms. And if you have the bees negotiating with another bee — well, admittedly the bees talk, and that’s silly, but negotiating, that’s even worse. I mean, please, it’s not what happens. They come in, try to get in, and if it doesn’t escalate into a bee war, the person trying to get in is killed. And so it’s just one of those reality checks. And it demonstrates the fact that the bees aren’t bad because they do that. Not that I want to send the message to kids that it’s okay to kill people that want to hurt you, but we’re talking about insects.

KO: You mentioned the notion of using Clan Apis as a teaching tool, and in the end of the book, you even give your email address and come right out and suggest it. Was that something that was pretty strong in your mind when you were writing it?

JH: Probably not until halfway through it, to be quite honest with you. Ultimately I was motivated by wanting to tell a story, and wanting to contribute something to comics in general that was unique and good. It wasn’t until halfway through when I saw that I could really — if you work hard on building the plot points on the information, because every story has bouts of exposition. You go along, you have exposition, and that moves the plot forward. If you place those plot points, those exposition points, if you build them upon critical elements in the organism’s biology, you can actually pack in a lot of information within the context of the animal’s natural history. So that you have this great layering of information, and then you have the context, and all of that helps you to remember things. The best professors I’ve ever had were the ones that really told a story every lecture. And what they told us about, all the information that they dispensed was within a context. And that really helps you to remember things much more specifically than a laundry list of facts that are not really connected to each other.

KO: Have you gotten any calls from anyone saying they want to use the book in the classroom?

JH: No, not specifically. I’ve gotten a couple of emails from comic readers who are also educators who say, “Oh yeah, I’m using this.” But no, never anybody directly. But that said, there have been some really cool things that happened. Recently, one of the library associations reviewed Clan Apis, and I can’t recall, because my partner was taking care of this, I can’t recall if we were in the top twenty children’s books recommended for libraries across the nation or the top twenty graphic novels recommended for libraries across the nation. But at any rate, we got this really nice review written by a woman from the American Library Association, and so we’re being carried now by a couple of library book distributors. And so that’s one big step into libraries.

KO: Well, you’ve got something here that will teach children about science and about bees. And in Cow-Boy, you called attention to people who still think comics are juvenile literature that rot the mind. Since Clan Apis is such a good teaching tool, do you think it will teach people to be more open to comics in general?

JH: I’d love it if it did. The bias against comics is one that reflects a lack of, well, reflection. The most popular page in the newspaper is the comics page. People read sequential art every day. People cut it out and put it on their cubicles. This is something we admire if it’s four panels long, and something we gladly buy giant collections of at B. Dalton. And the minute you string more than four panels together, and the minute there’s a coherent plot, then it’s silly, or it’s too much to look at, or it’s children’s stuff, or it’s for kids. Yeah, it would be great to get a book into schools and have kids talk about it with their parents, and to have parents see it, and to challenge the parental notion or the teachers’ notion about what is a useful teaching tool. It remains to be seen whether that’ll happen.

KO: Well, it seems the more libraries and bookstores Apis makes it into, the more likely that is to happen.

JH: Well, I hope so, although you never put it all on one thing. Ultimately, for that to succeed — and this is why I say I hope we start seeing many more books that are attempting to take an all-ages approach in the sense I think that I have — is that one little drop in the bucket, which is ultimately what Clan Apis will be, is not enough. There have to be people out there willing to write stories that they wish they’d had to read when they were kids, to sit down and really put together something that they can be really proud of that can appeal to broad groups of people. Because if then you have not just one book, but twenty, which you can say “look at this,” then you have a situation in which you can change people’s opinions. But it’s like Sandman — this brilliant piece of work sort of stood by itself. It wasn’t enough. We didn’t change the public’s opinion of comics. Articles were still written in newspapers that started with “bam, pow, biff.” Probably even articles about Sandman were written that way. So one isn’t enough. And one 165-page book is definitely not enough. But if it can be one voice in a growing chorus — well, that sounds really corny.

        

He Did It All for the Nyuki – Part 2

Posted November 2, 2001 By Kevin Ott

KO: How old is your son?

JH: My son is two right now. But I wrote Clan Apis when I was just married and planning to have kids, so I guess I always thought in those terms. I guess — this is going to sound screwy — but as far as things like that are concerned, I’ve had my son in mind, and I’ve had my mother in mind. My mother and my father. I want to write stories that they can read.

KO: What kind of readers are your mother and father?

JH: Well, I guess it’s not in terms of necessarily the content. But I come from northern Indiana, a small midwestern town, but a lot of cursing, and sexual situations, and a lot of gratuitous, drippy, bloody violence — not that that’s my voice anyway — that’s not something I’m gonna hand to my mother, or that I want my son to read. And I can’t say for certain whether or not that’s the voice inherent in me, or whether it’s a voice that’s a reaction to a dearth of that type of material. In any event, that’s just the way I write. Because a Warner Brothers cartoon was the same way. As nasty as it got was Bugs Bunny wearing a bra.

KO: And I can enjoy them just as much now as I did when I was six.

JH: And that’s, to me, the key. It’s writing a story that I can enjoy and be proud of now, and in twenty years. That can sit on a library shelf and not be dated. The word my wife constantly accuses me of using is “classic.” There’s something that isn’t rooted in a particular time, and is accessible to anybody who wants to read it at any time. Because the minute you start doing those other things, I think you start cutting yourself off from people. It’s my desire not to cut people out. And the reason that’s important is that it comes from a second perspective from which I write, and that is as an educator. I want to teach people something. So much of the stuff that I pick up — and this is true of comics, it’s true of books, it’s true of magazines — I find myself growing very frustrated, because I read these things, and I don’t walk away with anything. My life hasn’t been enriched in any way. Now that’s not true of everything, but I think a lot of stuff out there just sort of, you know, exists, kind of goes through the motions of telling a story. It doesn’t really do anything to improve me. You know? I don’t want to cut myself off from an audience. The minute you do that, the minute you turn off potential students is the minute you fail to educate somebody, and that’s no good.

KO: You mentioned gratuitous blood and gore — do you think there’s an excess of that in comics specifically? It sounds like maybe you do.

JH: Well, to say there’s an excess is to suggest that I’ve studied the situation, and I have not. So all I can go on is anecdotal stuff. Comics are like movies, so it’s not as if it’s something that’s unique to comics. Comics are like movies — you see more now, there’s a lot less left to your imagination. And growing up, I was never a kid who liked gory movies. I liked scary movies. To this day, I still enjoy watching The Creature from the Black Lagoon, those classic Universal monster pictures. They still scare me a little bit. But I never enjoyed the Halloween, the Friday the 13ths, the hacking and chopping, that just wasn’t my style. So when I see it creeping in, and you can see people holding decapitated heads dripping on the covers of comic books. And it’s not that I think, “oh my goodness, we should censor that,” And I can’t even say that it shouldn’t be done, but invariably it’s going to affect public opinion. And people can make the argument that movies are the same way, people don’t castigate movies because of violence, but the bottom line is, movies are doing fine. There’s no fear that the movie industry is going to collapse. And so that may be true, and people are free to make whatever comics they want, because as long as there’s a market for them — and that’s the other thing. They’ll only be produced if there are people buying them. And you don’t publish books like that at a loss. And so there’s clearly a market for them, so I’m not making any sort of judgment call on them, but it would be nice to see, and I think there are — okay, so now I’ve just sort of spiraled right into mishmash, but — my gut is, when I look at the stands, that it’s a more violent place than it used to be. It’s a less noble place than it used to be, in all genres. I prefer to contribute to something that attempts to be much less violent and more hopeful.

KO: And Clan Apis is nothing if not hopeful.

JH: I hope so.

KO: Staying on that track, you’re very frank about death in Clan Apis, and its place in the cycle of life and in the universe as a whole. When you were thinking that you were going to be writing for all ages, was there ever a contrast as far as writing something for all ages yet not pulling any punches?

JH: It kind of goes back to kids being smart, and kids being able to handle things. My dad, when he was growing up, he was orphaned when he was very young. And it’s a corny story told by my father who grew up in the 40s, but he went to see “Bambi” with his aunt, within the year. And he still talks about how Bambit’s dad says, “You gotta go on. You’ve got to pull yourself up by your bootstraps, and that’s just the way it is.” And now people criticize that because, you know, we can’t show kids death, and blah blah blah, and it’s a violent image, but the bottom line is that kids have to potentially deal with death in some respect all through their life. I think they’re capable of dealing with a lot more than we give them credit for. We’re not talking about the death of their aunt or uncle here, or a relative. We’re talking about the death of an animal. And I think the understanding that that’s an element of an animal’s life is an important thing for them not to ignore. Because you can Disneyfy nature too much, you can make it a little too warm, a little too cuddly, and that goes back to the dangerous spiral of anthropomorphizing. These bees are my characters. These bees are my heroes. The queen I liked, Queen Hatchi. But you find out she had to kill the previous queen, and so these elements are not things — as long as you don’t have eviscerated bees lying around and stuff, then these are things that kids can deal with. The real motivation for dealing with that properly on a more important level was my own — if this came through as a fundamental part of the story, it’s because I’ve always dealt with an awful fear of death. And so Nyuki was my surrogate for a lot of things in the story. Like my fear of change, and fear of death as the biggest change there is. And this was sort of my way of dealing with that issue, and in some respects I view that as one of the more grown-up elements, and one of the things that a kid will probably just gloss over. I’m not sure I dealt with the metaphysics of that very well.

        

Winds of Change, or More Hot Air?

Posted November 2, 2001 By Dave Thomer

“When in human history has positive change not been incredibly costly, selfless and bloody?”

Christian Gossett asked that question in an interview on this site, almost a year ago, and it’s been at the back of my mind ever since. Not News is dedicated to the idea that people can come together, talk through problems, look at evidence in a critical fashion, and come to an agreement on what should be done for the good of everyone. We sit at computers, surf the web for research, make some phone calls and post on the forums. Doesn’t sound very costly or bloody . . . or even all that selfless. The thought has entered my mind, more than once, that maybe all we’re really doing is salving some guilty consciences.

That thought hit especially hard as I read William H. Chafe’s Civilities and Civil Rights, an excellent book that tracks the progress — and lack thereof — of the civil rights movement in Greensboro, NC from the mid-50s through the 70s. Drawing on extensive interviews and written archival materials, the book is a tightly focused narrative that goes into great depth as it covers the community leaders and members that can get missed in larger overviews of the civil rights movement.

What is most fascinating, and most troubling, about the book is the vast disconnect it portrays between Greensboro’s image of itself and its reality. Greensboro had long considered itself a ‘progressive’ Southern city, with a more modern outlook and economy than many cities in the Deep South — and certainly with better, and fairer, relations between the city’s white and black populations. There was a black member of the city council in 1951, and also a black member of the school board. Several of the city’s philanthropists contributed significant sums to facilities in black neighborhoods, and a few major institutions were willing to work toward integration. And city leaders were almost always willing to discuss race relations in civil discourse, through official committees and informal talks.

The key word, there, is ‘civil.’ The powers that be did not want to ruffle any feathers, they did not want to provoke controversy, and they certainly did not want to suggest that conditions in Greensboro might be less than ideal. Change in Greensboro was expected to be attained through consensus, which meant that if anyone objected to change, then the status quo would be maintained in the name of civility, until the objector could be persuaded to change his mind. And rest assured, if a change would require that whites give up some of their entrenched power or privileged space in society, there would be objectors.

Greensboro was the birthplace of the student sit-in movement in February 1960, when four students and North Caroline Agricultural & Technical College grew frustrated with the slow pace of reform — lunch counters were still segregated, many jobs were off limits to blacks, and six years after Brown vs. Board of Education, black children still weren’t attending white schools. The students went to a downtown Woolworth’s, made purchases, and then st down at the lunch counter. When they were refused service, they stayed. Within days, dozens and then hundreds of students — and eventually adults — joined in the effort and brought commerce in downtown Greensboro to a standstill.

Here’s the interesting part. The powers that be of Greensboro did not respond to the students with a statement of, ‘Thank you for bringing this blatant hypocrisy and act of disrespect to our attention; we will remedy it immediately, and please accept our apologies.’ They criticized the protestors for being disruptive, threatened to enforce anti-trespass laws, and refused to believe that the protestors reflected the will of Greensboro’s black population. “It seems apparent,” said North Caroline Attorney General Malcolm Seawell, that these incidents have been promoted, encouraged, and even supervised by persons coming into North Carolina from other states” (Chafe 86).

Some white liberals did attempt to use the demonstrations as a catalyst for social change, as did a very small number of city leaders. But even those efforts showed the limits of a consensus-driven approach — a group of community leaders came together to negotiate first a moratorium on demonstrations and then an overall solution. They got the moratorium, but with the pressure off, and with the negotiating group having no official power to sanction anyone, businesses retrenched. The community leaders operated under the assumption that it was necessary to build up something close to unanimous public support for integration before anything could change. Meanwhile, the local Woolworth’s manager wrote to the governor, “We are fighting a battle for the white people who still want to eat with white people” (Chafe 93) — which pretty much sums up the chances for such a consensus. Fed up with the lack of progress, the students resumed the demonstrations, and eventually the lunch counters were integrated. But change only occurred when the oppressed made life uncomfortable for the oppressors, many of whom refused to believe they were doing anything wrong.

The civil rights movement is full of such stories. Local residents showing great courage and determination called attention to injustice, and when they tried to play within the existing system, they found their needs sacrificed in the name of political expediency. In 1964, for example, a group of Mississippi activists challenged the credentials of Mississippi’s delegation to the Democratic National Convention, on the grounds that black voters had been disfranchised — but President Johnson was unwilling to anger Southern Democrats by letting a vote on the credentials challenge go to the convention floor (where it almost certainly would have won). And when civil rights leaders began to call attention to the racial inequities of the American economic system, many of their political allies turned a deaf ear. Clearly, there are limits to working within the system, and you could make a strong case that a reform movement that relies on politely asking the system to change its ways is no reform movement at all.

So what are we left with? Is the only honest, and honorable, solution a remorseless, revolutionary struggle (to steal a phrase from Abraham Lincoln)? I’m not sure that’s the answer either — such a struggle is bound to cause resentments, and even if a revolution somehow put a just system into place, the overthrown would be more likely to nurse their grievances rather than become a part of the new society. There’s another Gossett quote that comes to mind: “No war has ever ended that did not begin another.”

The only truly lasting change will come when we change our hearts and our minds, and I don’t think that change can come at the end of a gun. It can only come slowly, and it will take a critical mass of everyday people who are willing to recognize that it is necessary. It will take people with the tools to analyze the world around them, to see where and how it could be better. One of the inspiring elements of Chafe’s book is the four students’ recollections of the role models that gave them the courage to take a stand — the teachers and leaders of their community, the people who did work within the system but weren’t afraid to tweak it where they could. When I think of what Not News can be, that’s what I like to imagine. We will always need heroes to stand up and shout, to call our intention to injustice. And it may be getting time to shout a little louder. But we also need people to talk to each other — and that’s why we’re here.

        

He Did It All for the Nyuki

Posted November 2, 2001 By Kevin Ott

Quick. Name an Eisner-award nominated comic artist and writer who also has a Ph.D in biology and teaches college-level science classes. The answer is easy, mostly because there aren’t many people in the industry that fit anything even remotely resembling that description (It’s hard to imagine Garth Ennis giving a lecture on mitochondria).

Somehow, Jay Hosler has found the time to devote his life to both the study of life sciences and the production of great sequential art. His current big seller, Clan Apis, tells the story of Nyuki, a honeybee who takes herself — and us — on a journey through life in the hive and as part of the swarm. The six-chapter collection was nominated for two Eisners this year.

Widely discussed as a work accessible to — but not written specifically for — children, Apis is lighthearted but pulls no punches in its description of life as a bee. Its frank description of death and conflict in a world populated by wisecracking insects provides a welcome sense of balance in a medium where stories for all ages aren’t easy to come by.

Meanwhile, the first issue of The Sandwalk Adventures, Hosler’s newest work, hits shelves in December. The series chronicles conversations between Charles Darwin and a microscopic mite living in the follicles of his eyebrows.

Again, not something you’re likely to see from Garth Ennis.

Hosler lives in central Pennsylvania with his wife Lisa and son Max, who enjoys playing with mechanical pencils. Jay and Lisa are expecting a second child soon.

KO: Le’s talk about Clan Apis, since that’s kind of your opus right now. I think it’s fair to say that it’s written for younger audiences, or at least written to be fairly accessible to younger audiences.

JH: I think the latter is more what I had in mind. It sort of goes to the real concept of “all ages,” which means that it should appeal to, well, all ages. Unfortunately, it’s sort of in a market right now where “all ages” is translated as “just for kids.” And so, and I’ve said this before, I think, to people, that I sort of write these things like I imagine the old Warner Brothers cartoons, which was, you know, there’s slapstick and silly stuff for kids, but there’s another level, that kids will just skip over things they don’t get, as long as you give them enough material to keep going. And then there’s political commentary and broader thoughts that should appeal to older readers.

KO: How did you feel, then, when the Eisner nominations came through, and they addressed your work in terms of its youth orientation?

JH: Oh yeah, I have no problem with that, because ultimately, if I had to pick a market that is completely, in my opinion, unaddressed in the comics medium today, it’s kids. I mean, what book are there out there for kids? You go into comic shops now and you’ve got Akiko, and you’ve got Bone, and you’ve got Castle Waiting, which are all great books — Amy Unbounded, which is a mini-comic, is a great book — but in reality, compared to the vast content of Previews — this is not a slamming of Previews, this is a comment on the type of material they receive — is almost exclusively adult-oriented. And so to be nominated in a category for kids books, I have no problem with that. I’m excited about it.

KO: I’s interesting you’re saying this, since people outside the medium generally stick to the belief that comics themselves are pretty much just for kids.

JH: Yeah, it’s an interesting dichotomy. It is considered sort of childish literature. And I think there’s been a real concerted effort by a lot of people to make it adult, and when I say adult here, I mean what the real world means — not, like, pornographic. Something that a grown-up could read and not feel embarrassed about. And of course there are tons of books out there like that. One of my favorite books of all time is Minimum Wage. It’s not a kids’ book, but it’s not standard everyday fare either. The problem is that it almost seems like this desire to legitimize ourselves as okay for adults to read has left this dearth of material for kids to read. Companies make attempts at kids’ books, but usually that fails, because most people have no respect for kids’ intelligence.

KO: What are you thinking of specifically when you say that?

JH: I’m loath to single things out, but I’ve seen books come out from various publishers within the last two years that, in my opinion, missed the mark on what kids want, because what you’re doing is you’re thinking of it in terms of what kids want instead of just writing a book that could be read by a kid. I know that’s sort of a fuzzy distinction. I think that when you sit down and think, “I’m going to write something that a kid would like,” you’ve already started from the wrong standpoint. For example, I don’t think Linda Medley sits down with a Castle Waiting story and says, “I think a kid will like this.” I think she sits down and writes a story and does certain things, like — this is going to make me sound like an old fuddy-duddy — but you don’t have cursing in it. You don’t have gratuitous sexual content. You don’t have gratuitous violence. She tells a story without those trappings, so in that respect it’s accessible to a child, a child can pick it up and read it. Now, there are also elements to it that a seven-year-old kid won’t get. But at least there aren’t those really strange barriers to a kid reading it. I guess I’m not in Linda Medley’s mind, so I don’t know what she’s thinking, but I suspect it’s not “kids could read this,” I think it’s more along the lines of “I want to tell a good story.”

KO: So when you wrote Clan Apis, did you think that there was a void to be filled, or were you just writing it because it was a good story to write?

JH: I got the idea for Clan Apis reading a book called The Biology of the Honey Bee. I was doing that reading for my research, and so many of the elements of it seemed like the parts of a story — things you would anthropomorphize. And it struck me as very unusual, because I was anthropomorphizing something that was very alien, a very alien world. And so the starting point was that it was just a different story. And everything I write, I write with the mind that my son will read it someday.

        

Well That Seems Fair

Posted November 2, 2001 By Dave Thomer

There is a certain sense in which this article is the intellectual equivalent of catching fish in a barrel. When liberals like me agree with conservative think tanks like the Heritage Foundation and the Cato Institute that people should pay more attention to government assistance to large corporations, my first inclination is to say that’s the ballgame and go home. But then again, some progressives argue that some kinds of corporate welfare aren’t so bad. And the Republican Party has determined that the best way to stimulate the economy in the wake of the September 11 disaster is to give enormous tax breaks to large corporations. So maybe the issue deserves a little more attention after all. Read the remainder of this entry »

        

Stuff Only I Listen To

Posted November 2, 2001 By Earl Green

Ever get the impression that you’re the only person listening to a given band or artist? It happens to me. It’s almost as common as the Mystery Melody Malady that overtakes me at various times of the year, compelling me to find and hear a song I know I’ve heard at some point in the past, and whether it’s through a CD purchase or a download, that curiosity must be quelled.

Okay, maybe that’s a phenomenon which is unique to me. I am, after all, a recovering ex-disc jockey, so there’s got to be something wrong with me.

But when the Mystery Melody Malady hits me, I’m likely to go digging through the CD shelf in search of music by the Umajets, the Rumour, Sunglass, Sharkbait, or any number of artists you may have never heard of, let alone heard.

I’m here to rectify that. And perhaps to inspire you to go on your own quest outside of the musical box. Read the remainder of this entry »

        

History in the Making, Take Two

Posted October 1, 2001 By Dave Thomer

This article is something of a change of pace; it’s an essay I wrote in 1997 to mark the re-release of the Star Wars trilogy. We’re running it here for a few reasons. The DVD version of The Phantom Menace comes out in about a week, and you’ll be hearing a lot from Kevin, Pattie and me on that subject — so we thought it might not be a bad idea to let you have a glimpse of why some of us take these movies so seriously. Plus you can decide if my writing skills have progressed or regressed since ’97. When I reread it, though, what really struck me was that the essay describes one of the many great days I had as a New Yorker . . . right now, it just feels important to share that.

Manhattan is full of impressive sights. The Empire State Building, the World Trade Center, Central Park, and dozens of others routinely attract crowds of natives and tourists alike. On one particular Friday in January, though, none of them made me happier than the marquee of the Ziegfeld Theater, which proudly announced in huge gold letters that Star Wars returned to the big screen that day. Under the marquee, a few dozen other fans had already taken up their places in the ticket-holders’ line, two hours before showtime. My ten-year-old sister and I raced down the block to join them and cement our place in line, right next to a camera crew that was setting up for a news report. The reporter stood in front of his news van holding his microphone, shaking his head and wondering out loud what would drive presumably rational people to stand in line for hours to see a movie that was almost twenty years old.

For me, it was a matter of honor. The first time I saw Star Wars was in 1982, five years after its first opening day. Since then I have seen the film dozens of times, memorized substantial portions of dialogue, driven myself deep into debt to purchase memorabilia and spin-off products, and in short devoted entirely too-large portions of my life to a fictional galaxy far, far away. But I always felt like I missed something, like I somehow wasn’t a true fan because I had never experienced that opening-day rush. So I viewed George Lucas’ decision to commemorate the film’s twentieth anniversary with a nationwide re-release as the universe’s way of saying, “Of course, we’re sorry, you should have been there the first time. Please accept our apologies.” Read the remainder of this entry »

        

Crime Pays (At Least a Little)

Posted October 1, 2001 By Kevin Ott

OK, so you’ve heard the one about the guy who gets called for jury duty a week before his vacation and has to put off all the classes he’s teaching. At least, I hope you have. If not, you seriously need to go back and read it. Dave wrote it last month. Or maybe the month before. Probably the month before. But go read it, because it’s pretty good. Better than this story, anyway.

But they’re both about crime, which is the topic of today’s Humor column. Because crime can affect YOU, mister smarty pants. Yeah, you. With the Doritos. Put ’em down and listen.

This is a story about how crime can strike anyone, at any time, even in the middle of a major metropolitan area with a high crime rate at 3 a.m on a deserted street with no cops around. It’s the story about how one time I went out for ice cream and lost TWO DOLLARS to a roving gang of armed bandits. It’s the story of a boy and a horse, and their love for one another. And it’s all true, except for the part about the horse, which I just made up right now.

It was the summer of 1993. Bill Clinton was firmly entrenched in the White House and a young rapper named MC Hammer was well on his way to abject poverty. I understand he’s some sort of minister now. So it just goes to show the curveballs life can throw you sometimes.

I had just graduated from high school and had my entire life ahead of me. Well, except for the part that had already occurred, which was actually behind me, if you want to get technical. I was at home with my friend Dennis, who had come to spend the night at my house because my mother had gone somewhere for the weekend and didn’t want me getting into trouble.

Remember that: My mother didn’t want me getting into trouble. And Vanity Fair says irony is dead.

So after a long night of playing fantasy role-playing games and watching premium-channel soft porn (Remember: High school! I’m actually very cool now! And quite successful with the ladies!), Dennis and I decided that some ice cream would hit the spot. So we struck out for a local convenience store, not really thinking that it was 3 a.m. and the muggers clocked in at about midnight. Hours of fantasy RPG and The Red Shoe Diaries will do that to you.

I bought one of those ice cream sandwiches where it’s actually two chocolate chip cookies with ice cream in between them. Dennis bought the latest LSD-inspired flavor from Ben and Jerry. Shine on, you crazy diamond!

So we left the convenience store. That’s when I asked Dennis if he wanted to hit the local Dunkin’ Donuts on the way home. Now, pay close attention:
Map of Muggers and Dunkin' Donuts
Get ready for this: Dennis didn’t want to go to Dunkin’ Donuts because he wanted to save his money. And Vanity Fair says irony is dead.

So we walked in the direction of the muggers. Only at the time we didn’t actually know there were muggers there, of course. That would have been stupid.

Eventually, we crossed paths with them: Three guys walking on the same side of the street, toward us, making eye contact. We didn’t think anything about it until they stopped us.

Let’s pause here, because this is the part of the story where nearly every white person I have ever met asks the same question. “Were they black guys?” they ask. Or sometimes: “They were black guys, right?” Occasionally, even: “I assume they were black guys.”

So: Yes. They were black guys, okay? Black as the freaking ace of spades. They were considerably blacker than the white prep school boys that, for absolutely no reason, tormented me on the school bus for three years. And much blacker than the white guy who threatened to kill my mother when he held up the convenience store she worked in when I was little. Now kindly insert your head back into your rectum.

Anyway.

They stopped us, and their leader explained that they didn’t want any trouble.

“We don’t want any trouble,” he said. “And we’re real sorry to have to do this. But we’re gonna have to ask you to give us all your money.”

That’s when the guy closest to me took out the gun and pointed it at my stomach. It was a cool gun, actually, one of those guns where you cock it by pulling back on the thing that goes over the part behind the barrel. I wanted to ask him about it, maybe have him show it to me and explain how it worked, but I figured he was busy mugging me and I didn’t want to bother him while he was at work.

Like I said, there were three guys: The Gun Guy, who was next to me, who was likely chosen via some sort of Coolest Afro/Sunglasses combination contest; the Leader, who was likely chosen because he was well-spoken and also very tall; and the Lookout, who was probably chosen because he was the guy who’s all nervous and says stuff like “Guys? I got a bad feeling about this. Guys?”

The Gun Guy took care of me. Leader and Lookout shook Dennis down. Fortunately, I only had two dollars on me, since I had spent the better part of a five-dollar bill on ice cream and some other junk I can’t remember. Dennis had about $50 on him, which Leader and Lookout were more than happy to relieve him of. They took his ice cream, too. They didn’t take mine, probably because it was half-eaten.

There was this one part where the Gun Guy was patting down my pockets and found my house keys. When he asked what they were, I showed him and told him he couldn’t have them because I needed them to get back into my house. He said okay.

In retrospect, this was very stupid. I mean, he had a gun, you know?

So they finished mugging us and we all came back together to close the deal.

“Okay,” said Leader. “Thanks for your time. Sorry to have bothered you.”

He seriously said this.

“Hey,” I responded. “Anytime.”

And we parted ways. Or at least, we tried to. It turned out we were all going in the same direction.

“Look,” said Leader. “You can’t follow us.”

“Well, we’re going this way too,” I said.

“But you can’t follow us.” He was pretty clear on this point. We’re pretty sure the Gun Guy was in his camp too, which made any subsequent discussion purely academic.

“Okay, how about this,” I said. “We’ll hang out here for a few minutes while you guys get going. Then after we’ve given you a sufficient head start, we’ll get on our way.”

Leader thought about this.

“Okay,” he said.

They turned around and walked away. They looked in the plastic bag they stole from Dennis to see what kind of ice cream they got.

So we went home. I was a little shaken up, and so was Dennis. We didn’t call the police, mostly because we forgot.

All in all, it was a pretty good experience, and well worth two dollars for such a cool story. It impresses people, anyway, and I get to feel all intrepid when I check “yes” on surveys that ask if I’ve ever been the victim of a violent crime.

But I guess we failed in our primary goal, which was to get ice cream. I mean, I still had my ice cream after the mugging, but Dennis grabbed it from me and threw it in the gutter when I started gloating about it. So we went out to get ice cream, and came back with none.

And Vanity Fair says irony is dead.

        

What Art Art?

Posted October 1, 2001 By Dave Thomer

One of the things that drew me to philosophy was the discipline’s attempt to answer questions that seemed impossible to answer conclusively. I hope the last few articles, which have surveyed some (but by no means all) of the most significant authors in Western philosophy, have shown how this can be a satisfying and useful discipline. Now it’s time to tackle some of those questions ourselves. I’m confident that some — like “Who on Earth thought a sitcom starring Emeril Lagasse would have any artistic merit?” — will never be answered. But even that unanswered question does suggest a more fundamental, and probably more interesting, set of questions — how the devil do we determine what it means for something to have artistic merit in the first place? And what is art, anyway?
Read the remainder of this entry »