Geeking Out Over ECCC

This last weekend I had the distinct pleasure of meeting Michael Hogan who plays Colonel Saul Tight on Battlestar Galactica. Not only was he gracious, but he was funny, easygoing and a pleasure to chat with. I seriously geeked out over meeting him and was given the privledge of a photo op and a big hug. I won't say it made the con for me, but it was a big reason I was floating on geeky vapors of joy for most of the day. :)






Also there as con eye candy (Cause Julie Benz just wasn't enough *lol*) was Tahmoh Pinikett who plays Carl Agathon (otherwise known as Helo). Seriously though he was yet another BSG actor I found to be approachable, gracious and good natured about all the geekery he was being exposed to. Apparently, he had a girl stalker who had been um...innapropriate in some of her virtual interactions on various sites. She was allowed to meet him I was told and no problems ensued. I'm going to guess he knew what she looked like and didn't freak or push her away. Nice guy. I asked him where he'd be working next. His answer, "Check out Dollhouse." I smiled and said, "From BSG to Joss Whedon? Nice segue."



Finally, rounding out the BSG boys club was Aaron Douglas, otherwise known as Chief Gaylen Tyrol on BSG. Oddly I didn't go over and shake his hand or compliment his performance on the show. I made so many rounds, met so many awesome actors, writers and artists I was feeling a little like I did in Italy. After 15 days of seeing amazing art I walked right by DaVinci's, 'Last Supper' painting and didn't have the hutspa to go in and see it. I observed him clowning with his BSG friends, being great to his fans and enjoying his time. By the end of the day, that was enough for me.






Of Course the crowning jewel of my 'actors at the con' experience was having my picture taken with the ever lovely Jewel Staite. She was as beautiful in person as she is on the small (or big) screen. Kaylee was (and remains) one of my favorite Firefly characters. *Sighs* Definitely going up on my, 'Wall of Awesome' with my pics of Myself and Jamie Bamber and Michael Hogan. :)





However that said, nothing at the con left me as starstruck as my holy grail of statuary. The most magnificent piece of comic inspired art to grace my home, or my hands (matched ONLY by my Batgirl Bust). I give you:
Rogue.


And seriously, 'Nuff said.

One of the best cons I've been to in AGES for talent and merchandise. Great day, great experience. :)

Ragh?!

After multiple attempts to upload pics to my blog, I stand frustrated. Why god why can I NOT put pics of my con adventures up?

Hulk SMASH!!

If I had Hulk hands I'd be banging them together repeatedly to hear the exclamations of Gamma infused rage.

In fact, I'd probably hack the Hulk hands to put a few of my own phrases in the mix. Such as:

"Hulk hate mimes!! There are NO WALLLLLLL!!!"

"Hulk hates undercooked cow brains on toast!!"

"Hulk buy purple pants in bulk!!!!"

Welcome back to the land of random. Enjoy your stay. :)

Vote as if your life depends on it

Martin Luther King Jr.

Video and Text of Martin Luther King, Jr.'s

"I Have a Dream" Speech

Aug. 28, 1963







(transcribed directly from the video above)

I am happy to join with you today in what will go down in history as the greatest demonstration for freedom in the history of our nation.



Five score years ago, a great American, in whose symbolic shadow we stand today, signed the Emancipation Proclamation. This momentous decree came as a great beacon light of hope to millions of Negro slaves, who had been seared in the flames of withering injustice. It came as a joyous daybreak to end the long night of their captivity. But one hundred years later, the Negro still is not free. One hundred years later, the life of the Negro is still sadly crippled by the manacle of segregation and the chains of discrimination.



One hundred years later, the Negro lives on a lonely island of poverty in the midst of a vast ocean of material prosperity. One hundred years later, the Negro is still languish in the corners of American society and finds himself an exile in his own land So we've come here today to dramatize a shameful condition.



In a sense we've come to our Nation's Capital to cash a check. When the architects of our republic wrote the magnificent words of the Constitution and the Declaration of Independence, they were signing a promissory note to which every American was to fall heir.



This note was a promise that all men, yes, black men as well as white men, would be guaranteed the inalienable rights of life liberty and the pursuit of happiness.



It is obvious today that America has defaulted on this promissory note insofar as her citizens of color are concerned. Instead of honoring this sacred obligation, America has given the Negro people a bad check, a check which has come back marked "insufficient funds."



But we refuse to believe that the bank of justice is bankrupt. We refuse to believe that there are insufficient funds in the great vaults of opportunity of this nation. So we have come to cash this check, a check that will give us upon demand the riches of freedom and the security of justice.



We have also come to this hallowed spot to remind America of the fierce urgency of Now. This is no time to engage in the luxury of cooling off or to take the tranquilizing drug of gradualism.



Now is the time to make real the promises of democracy.



Now is the time to rise from the dark and desolate valley of segregation to the sunlit path of racial justice.



Now is the time to lift our nation from the quicksands of racial injustice to the solid rock of brotherhood.



Now is the time to make justice a reality for all of God's children.



It would be fatal for the nation to overlook the urgency of the moment. This sweltering summer of the Negro's legitimate discontent will not pass until there is an invigorating autumn of freedom and equality. Nineteen sixty-three is not an end but a beginning. Those who hope that the Negro needed to blow off steam and will now be content will have a rude awakening if the nation returns to business as usual.



There will be neither rest nor tranquility in America until the Negro is granted his citizenship rights. The whirlwinds of revolt will continue to shake the foundations of our nation until the bright day of justice emerges.



But there is something that I must say to my people who stand on the warm threshold which leads into the palace of justice. In the process of gaining our rightful place we must not be guilty of wrongful deeds.



Let us not seek to satisfy our thirst for freedom by drinking from the cup of bitterness and hatred. We must forever conduct our struggle on the high plane of dignity and discipline. We must not allow our creative protest to degenerate into physical violence. Again and again we must rise to the majestic heights of meeting physical force with soul force.



The marvelous new militancy which has engulfed the Negro community must not lead us to a distrust of all white people, for many of our white brothers, as evidenced by their presence here today, have come to realize that their destiny is tied up with our destiny and They have come to realize that their freedom is inextricably bound to our freedom. We cannot walk alone.



And as we walk, we must make the pledge that we shall always march ahead. We cannot turn back. There are those who are asking the devotees of civil rights, "When will you be satisfied?" We can never be satisfied as long as the Negro is the victim of the unspeakable horrors of police brutality.



We can never be satisfied as long as our bodies, heavy with the fatigue of travel, cannot gain lodging in the motels of the highways and the hotels of the cities.



We cannot be satisfied as long as the Negro's basic mobility is from a smaller ghetto to a larger one.



We can never be satisfied as long as our children are stripped of their selfhood and robbed of their dignity by signs stating "for white only."



We cannot be satisfied as long as a Negro in Mississippi cannot vote and a Negro in New York believes he has nothing for which to vote.



No, no we are not satisfied and we will not be satisfied until justice rolls down like waters and righteousness like a mighty stream.



I am not unmindful that some of you have come here out of your trials and tribulations. Some of you have come fresh from narrow jail cells. Some of you have come from areas where your quest for freedom left you battered by the storms of persecutions and staggered by the winds of police brutality.



You have been the veterans of creative suffering. Continue to work with the faith that unearned suffering is redemptive.



Go back to Mississippi, go back to Alabama, go back to South Carolina go back to Georgia, go back to Louisiana, go back to the slums and ghettos of our northern cities, knowing that somehow this situation can and will be changed.



Let us not wallow in the valley of despair. I say to you today, my friends, so even though we face the difficulties of today and tomorrow. I still have a dream. It is a dream deeply rooted in the American dream.



I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up... live out the true meaning of its creed. We hold these truths to be self-evident that all men are created equal.



I have a dream that one day on the red hills of Georgia the sons of former slaves and the sons of former slave owners will they be able to sit down together at the table of brotherhood.



I have a dream that one day even the state of Mississippi, a state sweltering with the heat of injustice, sweltering with the heat of oppression will be transformed into an oasis of freedom and justice.



I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.



I have a dream today.



I have a dream that one day down in Alabama, with its vicious racists, with its governor having his lips dripping with the words of interposition and nullification; one day right down in Alabama little black boys and black girls will be able to join hands with little white boys and white girls as sisters and brothers.



I have a dream today.



I have a dream that one day every valley shall be exalted, every hill and mountain shall be made low, the rough places will be made plains and the crooked places will be made straight and the glory of the Lord shall be revealed and all flesh shall see it together.



This is our hope. This is the faith that I go back to the South with. With this faith we will be able to hew out of the mountain of despair a stone of hope.



With this faith we will be able to transform the jangling discords of our nation into a beautiful symphony of brotherhood.



With this faith we will be able to work together, to pray together, to struggle together, to go to jail together, to stand up for freedom together, knowing that we will be free one day.



This will be the day, this will be the day when all of God's children be able to sing with new meaning "My country 'tis of thee, sweet land of liberty, of thee I sing. Land where my fathers died, land of the Pilgrim's pride, from every mountainside, let freedom ring!"



And if America is to be a great nation, this must become true. So let freedom ring from the prodigious hilltops of New Hampshire. Let freedom ring from the mighty mountains of New York.



Let freedom ring from the heightening Alleghenies of Pennsylvania.
Let freedom ring from the snow-capped Rockies of Colorado.
Let freedom ring from the curvaceous slopes of California.
But not only that, let freedom, ring from Stone Mountain of Georgia.
Let freedom ring from Lookout Mountain of Tenneessee.
Let freedom ring from every hill and molehill of Mississippi, from every mountainside.



Let freedom ring,



And when this happens,and when we allow freedom ring, when we let it ring from every village and every hamlet, from every state and every city, we will be able to speed up that day when all of God's children, black men and white men, Jews and Gentiles, Protestants and Catholics, will be able to join hands and sing in the words of the old negro spiritual, "Free at last, free at last. Thank God Almighty, we are free at last."

Hil-frakking-arious

Best line: "We done here?" I laughed out loud. Wrong, wrong humor has that effect on me. :)

The Big Library Review

So I go to the Sno Isle Regional Library website a some weeks back and I capitalize on a discovery I made while researching graphic novels for my speech class. The library, realizing that kids are starting to gobble up the graphic medium has started adding significant numbers of them to their rolls. The graphic novel has begun bridging the gap between the visual and the written which in this day and age is essential to a literate society in the modern computer/internet/television/instant gratification era. I recommend as primer to this discussion Scott McClouds book, Understanding Comics. Oh yeah, best thing I found? Having anything you could find OR put on order for purchase on the sno isle website shipped to your home library. Ok so on to the reviews. :)


Nightwing: A Knight In Bludhaven. Written by Chuck Dixon, Pencilled by Scott McDaniel. This was a surprisingly good read. It begins with a journal entry by Barbara Gordon (fitting and well written). Funniest quote, "I'd like to think Master Grayson recognized my detective and martial arts skills. But I suspect he liked the way I filled out my costume." I'll admit the art style took some getting used to. Pony Tail Nightwing? Hm....no. But the panels that he's leaping and rappelling are dynamic and well drawn and appealing, and the near non stop action fits with the gritty storytelling Dixon lays down. Soames as the corrupt inspector is a slimy and compelling foil to Dick's grim crusade in Bludhaven and the ending with Blockbuster left me wanting more. So, recommends and continued reading in the subsequent arcs, yes.






Whiteout. Written by Greg Rucka, Pencilled by Matt Wagner, Mike Mignola, Dave Gibbons and Steve Lieber. (Cover by Frank Miller)This was another gritty read, fueled expertly by Greg Rucka's detective style noir crime storytelling. The main character Marshall Carrie Stetko is a compelling mix of hardcore badass and damaged goods. As her story unfolds you start to understand the person she's become. Her British counterpart, Sharpe plays her part in unfolding the mystery surrounding the deaths at Victoria and Amundsen-Scott stations and she's another compelling personality pulling you through the story. But really the character Rucka makes the most compelling is the Ice. Best quote, "In a place where a good day is when the mercury reaches minus 30 degrees Celcius without windchill...the most important question in the world is...how's your weather?" Antartica is a personality, a force throughout the story and stranger that would kill you as soon as take you in. For me, the ice is the lover and enemy of all of the characters, and Rucka writes like a man who's embraced it's mystery. So if you're a fan of noir crime fic or Rucka this is a graphic you'll want to take a pass at. The afterward Rucka writes at the end made me appreciate it all the more...check it. :)

JLA: Ultramarine Corps. Written by Grant Morrison, Pencilled by the ever Amazing Ed McGuinness and Val Semeiks this arc had me meh-ing at the story and LOVING the artwork of Mr.McGuinness. Semeiks was ok, but didn't jump off the page for me at all. First part of the story was pretty good, with Cannibal Grodd dripping blood on nearly every panel and NEH-BUH-LOH The Huntsmen radiating some cosmic style power and of course, looking to subject our Universe to his Queen of Terror (carpets of skulls, blah blah blah) you wonder how Batman can get this done with the rest of the JLA in another verse fighting evil. This is an Image crossover, and as soon as it goes to Imageville it loses me. No more great art, the character interactions are ok, but not terribly compelling. Grifter gets some of the best lines, smartassing his way through the last portion of the arc. So, a decent library read but nothing I'd puchase for the private collection.



Next set of reviews: Flash: The Return Of Barry Allen, Bone: By Jeff Smith, The Mighty Thor: The Eternals Saga.

Bernie Mac

"I see Hermes, unsuspected, dying, well-beloved, saying to the people, “Do not weep for me, This is not my true country, I have lived banished from my true country — I now go back there, I return to the celestial sphere where every one goes in his turn.” ~~Walt Witman

Goodbye Bernie, thank you for laughter you inspired and your light.

I always thought I'd like this poem read when I died, it seems fitting to share it here.

Do not stand at my grave and weep
I am not there, I do not sleep

I am a thousand winds that blow
I am the diamond glint on snow
I am the sunlight on ripened grain
I am the early morning rain

Hush, when you wake in the morning
I am the swift uplifting rush of circling birds in flight
I am the soft starlight at night

Do not stand at my grave and weep
I am not there, I do not sleep

~~Author Unknown