Whatever that means.
I had the pleasant surprise today of having author Patrick O'Leary comment on a July blog post in which I mentioned enjoying his book, The Gift.
(Well, on the miniscule chance you ever read this blog again: I own The Impossible Bird too, Patrick, and think it also is beautifully intricate, and has fantastic cover art. And I'm a girl. Er..a Dudette..?)
The Boy would also like to me point out that O'Leary is a southeast Michigan native, and set a scene from his book, Door Number Three, in the Borders Books at Southfield and 13 Mile Rd.
Ha! That pleases me more than it probably should.
Saturday, January 29, 2005
Monday, January 17, 2005
Not a single, tiny, wimpering regret.
Regarding my last post, I would just like to say that I should have added several more exclamation points to drive home my point. And I lied - I did look at PvP again today since Kurtz posted what he deemed and "apology," and I was curious.
In his "apology," Kurtz first presents himself as a hurting victim, then manages not only to be MORE offensive toward Fred Gallagher, but also to alienate all MegaTokyo readers as well. You think drastic sterotypes and bitter blanket statements are really going to mollify anyone? How about a little humility? Perhaps he's unaware of the fact that he actually shares a massive percentage of his readers with MegaTokyo. Like I said earlier, Fred can be melodramatic, but at least he's unassuming and genuine.
Congratulations - You really put those pokey-eating MT readers in their place, Kurtz. However, I have a sneaking suspicion that you may find a curious dip your readership. I'm sure I'm not the only person who left in disgust.
In his "apology," Kurtz first presents himself as a hurting victim, then manages not only to be MORE offensive toward Fred Gallagher, but also to alienate all MegaTokyo readers as well. You think drastic sterotypes and bitter blanket statements are really going to mollify anyone? How about a little humility? Perhaps he's unaware of the fact that he actually shares a massive percentage of his readers with MegaTokyo. Like I said earlier, Fred can be melodramatic, but at least he's unassuming and genuine.
Congratulations - You really put those pokey-eating MT readers in their place, Kurtz. However, I have a sneaking suspicion that you may find a curious dip your readership. I'm sure I'm not the only person who left in disgust.
Sunday, January 16, 2005
Because he can't freeze my blog.
There was once a time when the webcomic PvP was actually enjoyable - it was witty, funny, creative, and definitely one of my bookmarked "dailies." However, even during the golden years of PvP, I was occasionally annoyed by its creator, Scott Kurtz. He took himself so seriously, and his constant weedleing for people to click sponsor links and buy his swag grated now and then. I responded by ignoring the rants/journal entries, and still managed to enjoy the comic.
Within the last year or so, I've trudged dutifully through several painfully stupid and unfunny story arcs involving things like Jade's younger sister trying to seduce Brent (I kept coming back for the faint hope that there might be a strip involving Scratch and Skull.). The decline of the comic is not what ultimately made me stop visiting PvP, however. The strip didn't disturb me half so much as Scott Kurtz disturbed me.
The fact is that in his PvP universe, Scott Kurtz is a god. A tyrannical little god who's terrified of people saying anything MEAN about him, and who rewrites history as suits him. I recall his rant about an obnoxious band in the booth next to his at a particular con...understandable - they sounded like total asshats. However, Scott went one step further and attempted to mobilize his PvP army against them by CLEARLY posting a link to the band's site and, wink-wink, nudge-nudge, saying how awful it would be if too many people downloaded from their website, because they might exceed their bandwidth and have to pay a lot extra...
What do you think that means? It means, "After them, my PvP minions!" Of course. I thought at the time it was a sort of low thing to do, but it didn't particularly bother me...
Except that a couple days later, god-Scott breezed in and erased his previous post, replacing it with one that claimed, in a self-righteously indignant tone, that some people had accused him of telling readers to flood the band's server and that was not what he intended AT ALL. These guys were just trying to make a living, etc. etc. and now they're good friends, blah blah.
What outrageous and obnoxious backpaddling. Just admit that you were pissed off, and you wrote before you thought of the consequences, Scott.
That episode left a bad taste in my mouth, but it was pretty much behind me, until this past week's debacle. In the midst of congratulating Rodney Caston (of early Megatokyo renown) on his upcoming baby, Kurtz took an unexpected and unwarrented swipe at Fred Gallagher, current Megatokyo writer and artist. Now the swipe itself, though to me a pretty despicable thing, was Kurtz's personal opinion. I believe that he's wrong, but he has every right to say what he wants. Conversly, I have ever right to never go back to his site again because of my personal opinion that he's a dickhead.
Now, if you go to the PvP site, you won't find any evidence of the post. It's been neatly swept under a virtual rug by Mr. Kurtz. He even froze the thread on the message boards pertaining to it to keep people from discussing it. It took only a few hours for him to realize that someone, somewhere might think that it wasn't cool, and as a result, say something MEAN about him. Like that he's a dickhead.
Fred responded on Megatokyo's site. He was a little overwrought and emotional, but one can hardly blame him. In the end, his point was valid: his business relationship with Rodney Caston is none of Kurtz's bloody business.
The jewels that only occasionally crop up in PvP these days are not worth putting up with Scott Kurtz.
Today, after years of reading PvP, I deleted the bookmark entirely.
It was a grand, pointless gesture, but somehow it feels good.
Within the last year or so, I've trudged dutifully through several painfully stupid and unfunny story arcs involving things like Jade's younger sister trying to seduce Brent (I kept coming back for the faint hope that there might be a strip involving Scratch and Skull.). The decline of the comic is not what ultimately made me stop visiting PvP, however. The strip didn't disturb me half so much as Scott Kurtz disturbed me.
The fact is that in his PvP universe, Scott Kurtz is a god. A tyrannical little god who's terrified of people saying anything MEAN about him, and who rewrites history as suits him. I recall his rant about an obnoxious band in the booth next to his at a particular con...understandable - they sounded like total asshats. However, Scott went one step further and attempted to mobilize his PvP army against them by CLEARLY posting a link to the band's site and, wink-wink, nudge-nudge, saying how awful it would be if too many people downloaded from their website, because they might exceed their bandwidth and have to pay a lot extra...
What do you think that means? It means, "After them, my PvP minions!" Of course. I thought at the time it was a sort of low thing to do, but it didn't particularly bother me...
Except that a couple days later, god-Scott breezed in and erased his previous post, replacing it with one that claimed, in a self-righteously indignant tone, that some people had accused him of telling readers to flood the band's server and that was not what he intended AT ALL. These guys were just trying to make a living, etc. etc. and now they're good friends, blah blah.
What outrageous and obnoxious backpaddling. Just admit that you were pissed off, and you wrote before you thought of the consequences, Scott.
That episode left a bad taste in my mouth, but it was pretty much behind me, until this past week's debacle. In the midst of congratulating Rodney Caston (of early Megatokyo renown) on his upcoming baby, Kurtz took an unexpected and unwarrented swipe at Fred Gallagher, current Megatokyo writer and artist. Now the swipe itself, though to me a pretty despicable thing, was Kurtz's personal opinion. I believe that he's wrong, but he has every right to say what he wants. Conversly, I have ever right to never go back to his site again because of my personal opinion that he's a dickhead.
Now, if you go to the PvP site, you won't find any evidence of the post. It's been neatly swept under a virtual rug by Mr. Kurtz. He even froze the thread on the message boards pertaining to it to keep people from discussing it. It took only a few hours for him to realize that someone, somewhere might think that it wasn't cool, and as a result, say something MEAN about him. Like that he's a dickhead.
Fred responded on Megatokyo's site. He was a little overwrought and emotional, but one can hardly blame him. In the end, his point was valid: his business relationship with Rodney Caston is none of Kurtz's bloody business.
The jewels that only occasionally crop up in PvP these days are not worth putting up with Scott Kurtz.
Today, after years of reading PvP, I deleted the bookmark entirely.
It was a grand, pointless gesture, but somehow it feels good.
Monday, January 10, 2005
The Joys that Come with Age
"What creature walks on four legs at the dawn, two in the midday, and three legs in the evening?" the Sphinx asked Oedipus. At least I think that's how it goes. As I recall, the answer to the Sphinx's riddle was "Man - because he crawls on all fours as an infant, walks as an adult, and uses a cane in his old age."
Speaking of old age...
I have a hearty esteem for the elderly. Anyone who manages to stick around 80 years has my respect. At the same time, one can't deny that sometimes, as people become more childlike in their old age, they render stories that are by one token sad, but by another, howlingly funny. My general rule of thumb is that I will not take myself seriously as an old person, (Why start then?) and I should hope if I do something laughable, people are not afraid to guffaw.
For instance:
A friend had a grandfather who, upon his own occasional epic episodes of flatulance, would crane his head around sharply, demanding, "Who's that? Who's there?!"
How could one not giggle like an idiot?
A sister of mine worked at a home where a tiny, ancient French-Canadian lady refused to eat breakfast. When J gently but firmly steered her back to the table, the tiny lady went into little girl mode - stamping her foot angrily, and flinging her ever-present tissue to the ground in a fit of rage. As the tissue fluttered gently to the floor,(perhaps not the effect she had intended) she would declare, "I'm goin' to TOWN!"
When I'm old, I hope that somehow I manage to avoid troublesome things like brain shrinkage and the type of thing that puts one into the company of people such as This lucky lady.
This story is the reason I've been thinking about age today. The Boy's grandfather did the exact same thing a few years ago. What boggles me is that he managed to superglue BOTH his eyes shut. One I could (sort of) understand, but BOTH-- reportedly, the grandfather put the "drops" into one eye, noticed they stung a little, but proceeded with the next anyway.
Upon finding he was rendered blind via his epoxied eyelids, he sat quietly on the bed until it was clear that the Boy's uncle was awake, then called him in a little voice to inform him that there was something wrong with his eyedrops. (the "little voice" gets me - in both the lady and grandpa stories. What other type of voice could you possible have but a meek and sheepish one after doing something like that?)
The uncle took him to the hospital, where some jackass of a doctor decided it would "just wear off on its own." So they went home again. The uncle stayed home from work, understandably, and together they sat on the couch so the uncle could tell the grandpa everything that was happening on Murder She Wrote. In the Boy's family version of the story, this section in accompanied by the teller making a very interested face and leaning forward, except with his or her eyes tightly closed. "Yes? yes? What now?" The uncle says things such as, "ok... now Jessica is underneath the window in the bushes. She's listening to the conversation... Oh! They might have seen her!"
Later, the uncle took the grandpa to another hospital, where they told him the first doctor was a jackass. The glue had dried on the surface of the grandpa's eyes, creating a hard contact with sharp edges that scratched every time he shifted his eyeballs. Through sheer determination and merciless ripping, the medical staff opened them again. Today the grandpa seems no worse for the wear from it.
Speaking of old age...
I have a hearty esteem for the elderly. Anyone who manages to stick around 80 years has my respect. At the same time, one can't deny that sometimes, as people become more childlike in their old age, they render stories that are by one token sad, but by another, howlingly funny. My general rule of thumb is that I will not take myself seriously as an old person, (Why start then?) and I should hope if I do something laughable, people are not afraid to guffaw.
For instance:
A friend had a grandfather who, upon his own occasional epic episodes of flatulance, would crane his head around sharply, demanding, "Who's that? Who's there?!"
How could one not giggle like an idiot?
A sister of mine worked at a home where a tiny, ancient French-Canadian lady refused to eat breakfast. When J gently but firmly steered her back to the table, the tiny lady went into little girl mode - stamping her foot angrily, and flinging her ever-present tissue to the ground in a fit of rage. As the tissue fluttered gently to the floor,(perhaps not the effect she had intended) she would declare, "I'm goin' to TOWN!"
When I'm old, I hope that somehow I manage to avoid troublesome things like brain shrinkage and the type of thing that puts one into the company of people such as This lucky lady.
This story is the reason I've been thinking about age today. The Boy's grandfather did the exact same thing a few years ago. What boggles me is that he managed to superglue BOTH his eyes shut. One I could (sort of) understand, but BOTH-- reportedly, the grandfather put the "drops" into one eye, noticed they stung a little, but proceeded with the next anyway.
Upon finding he was rendered blind via his epoxied eyelids, he sat quietly on the bed until it was clear that the Boy's uncle was awake, then called him in a little voice to inform him that there was something wrong with his eyedrops. (the "little voice" gets me - in both the lady and grandpa stories. What other type of voice could you possible have but a meek and sheepish one after doing something like that?)
The uncle took him to the hospital, where some jackass of a doctor decided it would "just wear off on its own." So they went home again. The uncle stayed home from work, understandably, and together they sat on the couch so the uncle could tell the grandpa everything that was happening on Murder She Wrote. In the Boy's family version of the story, this section in accompanied by the teller making a very interested face and leaning forward, except with his or her eyes tightly closed. "Yes? yes? What now?" The uncle says things such as, "ok... now Jessica is underneath the window in the bushes. She's listening to the conversation... Oh! They might have seen her!"
Later, the uncle took the grandpa to another hospital, where they told him the first doctor was a jackass. The glue had dried on the surface of the grandpa's eyes, creating a hard contact with sharp edges that scratched every time he shifted his eyeballs. Through sheer determination and merciless ripping, the medical staff opened them again. Today the grandpa seems no worse for the wear from it.
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