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Neil Gaiman says:

Neil Gaiman says:
pic by Allan Amato

Monday, September 24, 2007

Happy Guinness Day



Happy Guinness Day! It's Arthur Guinness' birthday, so to celebrate, folks world wide are sucking back the delicious brew. Close your eyes, drink your Guinness, and imagine John Mann and Spirit of the West singing this traditional ballad:

General Guinness

You've heard of General Wellington
Who won at Waterloo,
But there's a good old Irishman
I'll introduce to you
He comes from dear old Dublin
He's a man we all applaud
For he always finds a corkscrew
Far more hardy than a sword.
He's good old General Guinness
He's a soldier strong and stout
Found on every battlefront
He can't be done without
His noble name has worldwide fame
Preserved through hearty cheers
Hurrah for General Guinness
And the Dublin Boozileers!

This hale and hearty warrior
Is worshipped in the ranks,
For he does his task inside a cask
As well as in the tanks.
He's borne the brunt on every front,
North, South, East and West,
And he wears about ten thousand canteen
Medals on his chest.
He's good old General Guinness.
He's won the world's applause.
It was he who kept our spirits up
In the midst of all the wars.
Who was the first to flirt with
Mademoiselle from Armentiers?
Why good old General Guinness
Of the Dublin Boozileers.

All over bonny Scotland, too,
The General is seen.
They've given him the freedom
Of the town of Aberdeen.
From Inverness to Galloshiles,
They keep him warm at night
And they love to gather round him,
Auuuch! On every moonlit night.
He's good old General Guinness
He's as good as Scottish broth.
He's the one who turned the Firth of Forth
Into the Firth of Froth
All Scotsmen dance the highland fling
And shout when he appears
Hurrah for General Guinness
And the Dublin Boozileers!


(Can be found on the album "Old Material")

Monday, September 17, 2007

Take the plunge


You know you want to.

You've been aching, your fingers vibrating with the creative need to DRAW. But, you've put it off. Your boring job saps all your strength. Or even your moderately not-so-boring job takes up so much of your energy, when you get home (or hell, if you're working from home) you just don't have it in you to.. draw..

Scott McCloud
came up with a nifty device over a decade ago (August 31st, 1990), called The Dare. In this Dare, he challenged a compatriot, Steve Bissette, to draw for 24 hours straight, one page an hour, until by the time he was done, this fella would have a complete comic, written, penciled and inked in his hands. That's all it took. From that wonderful, inspired idea, the 24-Hour Comic has spread like fruit flies on a squishy mango, in other words, FAST and with much sucking of tasty, sticky juice! To check out more information on The Dare and to read McCloud's first 24-hour comic, check ze links!

No writer or artist's block can withstand the energy or will that exists in the sweat of someone working on a project for 24 hours straight. Take it from someone who has braved that valley of darkness three times and come out alive... blind, exhausted, hallucinating, but alive! Below, are panels from my first attempts: "Good Medicine/ Bad Medicine", "The Wyrm's Treasure" and "SnowBlonde" (you can read the last two in their entirety on my website, thanks to the continuing web genius of Carol Busato.)

"Good Medicine/ Bad Medicine"

"The Wyrm's Treasure"

"SnowBlonde"


If you're interested in reading more 24-hour comics, you can order them online from Amazon, or via the 24-Hour Comics Day site which has tons of info on the event! You can also order two of Troy Little's 24-hour comics directly from him at Meanwhile Studios ("Smoked Fish" and "Inanimation".)

Come October 20th, 2007, the entire world will host hundreds of mad, creative folks in various locales, drawing maniacally away and creating something from nuthin'! I was interested in joining the fun, but realized it would come very close to overlapping my business trip to Abbey Hill Design in Callander (near North Bay.) I heard that Hairy Tarantula in Toronto was going to host it, but thought the additional drive and then no sleep, then driving HOME would probably kill me. I looked for something closer to Ottawa and realized there was nothing.

NOTHING.

No 24-Hour Comics Day event in ANY Nation's Capital comic book stores to encourage artists to create masterpieces on trestle tables, between multicoloured rows of comics. No fervent prophets of art and story, drawing throngs of the interested public through the doors to bring lucre to the tills. No store was signed up to host. So I thought to myself, "Self," (sfx of Arlo Guthrie talking) "Yup?" "Why dontcha host an event yerself?" "Sounds like a great idea. Then I won't end up in flames somewhere near Belleville on the way home from the stint in TO!" "Sounds like a plan." "AND I would get to see all of my comic and animation buddies whom I haven't seen in a donkey's year." "Is that an African or European donkey?"

And so on.

The 24-Hour Comics Day site has wonderful resources (like this FAQ) for hosting the DAY and I have downloaded lots of 'em. DragonHead Studio is officially on the boards at their site, and the fun starts at noon, October 20th, 2007 at yours truly. There is a Facebook Group set up for it, as well as an "Event" that you can request an invitation to.

As it stands, I have a possibility of 7 people turning up, which looks great! There is room for 5 -7 more, so if you are in the Ottawa/ Kanata area and you're keen to draw and you'd like to play with my animals and sit on my deck sipping Rev or what-have-you, drop me a line!

You know you want to.
That leetle voice you spend all day ignoring and the entire drive home from your job trying to feint left and right as its siren susurrus pleading whisper darts from ear to ear... Listen to it. Next time you're about to crank "Sam's Town", take a minute to really listen to what the Killers are saying; don't just let the sound wash over you.

"...I've got this energy beneath my feet
like something underground's gonna come up and carry me,
I've got this sentimental heart that beats
but I don't really mind that it's starting to get to me now..."


Call, write, email (blackcomet666@yahoo.ca) or sign up on the Facebook Group and pester me. You have 'til October 6th to get your name in! It's going to be fun!

Cheers,
Suzanne.

Sunday, September 16, 2007

Troy Little CHIAROSCURO Interview!!!!!!!!!!!!


Please proceed HERE to check out Troy Little on national television in Canada, courtesy of the CBC, Compass & YouTube.

For a written version of the interview, check this out.

Please be sure to pre-order "Chiaroscuro" from your favourite comic or book stores. The release date is coming up in October (15th), so don't miss out! Information on preordering can be fond on Troy's site here. Or hit up Amazon and pre-order online.

Tuesday, September 11, 2007

Unaware of distant thrashings


(Above, a mock-up of me with Frank Frazetta; ha! Probably the closest I'll get to seeing him for real ;-)

I had the happy chanced stumble to find a great comic resource: "The Drawing Board" via Mick Harrison's Blog. Thanks Mick! From there I have found great Classifieds (ads that actually entice pencilers, inkers and the like with MONEY! Wow :-) For those of you who don't know.. many sites have comic classifieds that go something like this:

"...I am actively seeking dedicated comics artists/co-creators with whom to work in developing original comics properties to pitch (at least five to eight pages of finished art)... I am looking for talented artists to help in bringing these works to their two-dimensional life. Only artists with a firm grasp of sequential comic art need respond... [Insert bunch of junk to indicate the dude(tte) has some kind've credentials)
...Work is currently non-pay, but fair percentages for the amount of work done will be negotiated once a project is picked up by a publisher...."
BLAH BLAH BLAH.

When I got to High School at the ripe age of 14, I looked at my ink-stained hands and said "No More Freebies!" And I stood by it. (OK, barring: relatives, fund-raisers and blood-brethren (& sistren), I don't draw for free. Why should you? Why should you advertise to the world that your work is worthless? I remember my 1st year teacher at Algonquin College, Peter Adamakos, going on at length about that in one of his lectures. I don't recall it in its entirety, but basically it had to do with: Pride, not just in yourself, but in your work, and belief in the validity (and saleability) of your work.

So anyway, it was refreshing to find a professional site that had classified ads for comic artists that offer dough for art. Cool :-) Since it was 1am, and for some reason I subconsciously believed that sleep was STILL for the weak, I thought I'd poke around and see what trouble I could get into there. And I found trouble--of course! A bit of a preamble to this story though, before I get to "ze meat"

When I was growing up, the burg I lived in had a population of maybe 800 (or so.) Now I was only about 20 km away from a major urban centre, so I didn't get the "living in a tiny village" syndrome that sends many people running for big cities, to get away from ALL THE NEIGHBOURS KNOWING EVERYTHING ABOUT YOU... ALL THE TIME!

But, it was a small enough town that the grocery store (the only place to buy stuff at the time) carried a wee spinner rack of comics and a spot with magazines off to the side. This was where you would find the TWO copies of Heavy Metal that would come in irregularly. Some reprobate bought one of those Heavy Metals, and I, at the tender age of 16 or so, bought the other one. It was like buying condoms or cigarettes or something. I'd have to stand in the checkout line, trying to hide my mag under a bag of chips or whatever, and the Octogenarian ringing it through would take a good gander at the stark(ish) naked space-girl on the front cover and wonder about me.

But! Back to the story.

Between the covers of those Heavy Metal comics was a lot of crap. But, there was also an amazing amount of beautiful artwork (like Findley's "Tex Arcana") which helped inspire me to draw, tell stories, get unladylike thoughts zipping around in my fertile teenager's head and such. Included in the long list of inspirational artists that I was exposed to through the mag is the legendary Frank Frazetta. (I mention Mr. Frazetta, because eventually this gets back to how I opened the Blog today.)

I fell in love with Frazetta's work the way you fall into a swimming pool filled to the brim with Jello. Hard, fast, covered in slime and no option to rise to the surface, save to devour everything around you and try not to think what it's made of. I kept my eyes peeled for Frazetta's work and accumulated a small stack of thin paperback art books, which have sadly fallen apart, a mere 20 years later... Mostly to the fact that I went through them over, and over and over again. (Below is "Conan the Avenger" - the cover painting to the first of those art books I had.)
Unlike a lot of people who got turned onto Frank Frazetta's work, it wasn't via the actual Conan the Barbarian paperback books. It was through prints, books, reproduced illustrations, the Ralph Bakshi movie "Fire & Ice", and also the deep respect and admiration of my Dad for the work and the artist. My Dad looked at the Frazetta works, nodded his head and said "This is really great stuff."

Just Sunday, I was visiting Keith's place and we were having a nice palaver over Pad Thai, drinks, convo, Gran Turismo and stuff, when he revealed, like a Magician pulling a dove out of thin air, that he had a movie for Clay & I to watch.
"What is it?" I demanded about a billion times.
"Wait and see!"

It was "Painting with Fire", which is a documentary/ interview/ reminiscence and adulatory piece about Frank Frazetta. I really enjoyed it. I love seeing how artists work. I especially love to see their studios. When I get into an artist, like most "fans" I want to know everything about them and understand where they draw their inspiration, how they work, how they think.

It was delightful seeing the early photos of Frank, hear the story of how he built his career. Realize that even the greats can be amazing procrastinators (putting off work for a whole month, only to burn in a creative frenzy for 8-15 hours to get a piece done for deadline!) It was cool seeing his closet chock full of cameras (I piped up: "Now I don't feel so bad!" --I too have a camera fetish.) It was inspiring, and made me want to draw like crazy (which of course was the effect that Keith had anticipated.) We sat around and drew for a few hours and I was happy as a clam.

Anyway, back to The Drawing Board, poking around in Forums and realizing stuff is happening. Now, you know where I stand on the matter of Frank Frazetta. He isn't God, but he is a hell of a talented painter. Apparently there is a real fooferah between him and another artist, called Mike Hoffman. Up 'til now, I think I'd only seen his work around --maybe in Heavy Metal? Maybe in PinUps? Or magazines? I was unaware of the intense animosity happening between Frazetta & Hoffman.

I was browsing and saw a Forum topic called "Thirteen Reasons Why I'm Better Than Frazetta". Of course I had to look. I mean; c'mon! A link within the Forum lead to Hoffman's website (which I'll post here.) The vitriol and anti-Frazetta garbage that was fountaining out was astonishing. Hoffman's ANTI-FRAZETTA-FAN rage was also surprising (well, I suppose it shouldn't be that surprising really.) But, accusations aside, aren't these two professional painters in the same genre? Where does this rage, petty in-fighting, obvious jealousy sprout from?

One of the fellows (Sirspamdalot) on the Forum at The Drawing Board said: "...I can't help but think of Ash being attacked by his own hand in Evil Dead 2..."
A Hoffman alongside a Frazetta.

One of the Forum posters (visual myriad) puts it perfectly: "...on the artistic side, i think his artwork is a very pale imitation of Frazetta's work. Hoffman rips so many of Frank's artistic touches, but isn't able to use them intuitively, so his work lacks the life and energy that makes Frank Frazetta's work so timeless." - Daniel

I'm not going to waste a huge amount of time belabouring it, but after scanning through Hoffman's page, I had to write something. He's throwing accusations around like smoke bombs at a ninja convention... Yeah, some of them are true, I'm not Frazetta's publicist, so I can't put out a press release or whatever regarding the "Swipes" Hoffman accuses him of. I've watched "Painting with Fire" and yes, Frank says quite a bit of high handed things. But, my G*d man, he's 79; give him a break! If you get to 79 and every artist with two thumbs and a can of paint is killing themselves to paint like you, yes, you're allowed to refer to yourself as a "Legend".

Anyway, I'll hook up all the links, and folks can sort out for themselves what they think. All I know is that I would give a lot to have an original Frazetta hanging in the old pink house, and wouldn't give anything for a Hoffman. There, now I can be counted amongst the "intellectual dust mouse" Frazetta fans as well. Just an aside--I hopped on over to eBay following a Hoffman link and he's selling original "Death Dealer Sketches". Who's swiping what? ;-)

Cheers,
Suzanne.

Friday, September 07, 2007

If you love me, you'll buy my stuff


How often have we heard that familiar phrase??
FLOG YOU MONKEYS! Anyway, for fun, I did a photo collage of all the pics I have posted recently...and, for your enjoyment, they are for sale in Poster Form at Cafe Press! For the mere cost of a large all dressed pizza, from a lower end pizza place, you can own a REAL chunk o' Marsden memorabilia! Order now from my Cafe Press shop!

I'll put up a few more nonsensical things there as I go along. But for now, enjoy the moving surrealism of pinning up multiple images of ME in your basement, rec-room or even kitchen. Watch as I sweat and curse, watch as the minutes tick by. Heck, you'll even have additional fun collectible pics of ARLO, CLAYTON, a GIANT PRAYING MANTIS, a MANUSCRIPT! Collect 'em all!

That's it, I'm spent.
Cheers
Suzanne.

Thursday, September 06, 2007

Mush! Mush you doggies!


(Above are the bills from Canada Post & Staples, respectively from the printing of 2 copies of the old novel AND the cost of mailing it.... :-D)

Hey there compadres, quite a hot day in O-town today. I rarely venture forth into the world if I can avoid, but I had to go to the Post Office to mail my manuscript! I took my jump drive to Staples yesterday, and instead of making me wait a day, they printed it almost immediately :-D Hurray!

The store was a-bustle with about a billion kids and their harried-looking parents. I guess it's back-to-school for all of them. It was nice being able to wend my way through the crowd to the copy desk and retrieve two copies of my... MANUSCRIPT! Haha :-D from the nice girl at the counter. I was trying to explain what the whole 3-day novel thing was to her and she seemed impressed, so that made me feel good. I looked pretty frazzled, but she didn't seem to notice.

Off we went to the Wizard's Tower where Clay found some Palladium stuff and I rooted through the dollar bins... you find interesting things in the ol' dollar bins, discontinued comics, sales etc. I found a copy of Magik #1 for $2.00 or something, but I slid her back in cause I already have it.

Anyway, enough of my thrilling adventures in shopping-land. Here's some pics to describe the fun part of my day, which was fondling my 131 pg baby, trying to ram said-baby into an envelope that was TOO small, giving up, digging up another envelope (way too big), but coping anyway.

I have a few padded envelopes kicking around from MaryAnn Harris, fabric artist and owner of Reclectica, a cool retro jewelery and antique clothing store. She is also the lovely wife of my favourite writer in the whole wide world: Charles de Lint! When I bought 88 vintage sci-fi paperbacks from her in June, the box they arrived in came with a bunch of padded envelopes to protect them (she hadn't know I was picking them up personally and they were all packaged to be mailed!) So, the upshot is, I have a few envelopes with Charles de Lint's name printed on them.

I thought it'd be good luck to use one of his padded envelopes for the transport of my novel to its eventual destination on the West Coast. So, I finally packaged the lil' sucker up, drew a sketch of the main character on the back and trotted off to the the drug store at the Hazeldean Mall to mail it off.
So, now I sit, and plot my next frantic exercise in creative zeal... I recently heard from my buddy Tracy at Abbey Hill Design and will be heading there in October for a week to work on some one-of-a-kind pieces for her. That'll be a blast!

What else? November is National Novel Writing Month, and I feel the stirrings to register for that and throw myself into another fit of passionate creativity. You get an entire month to write, not just 3 days ;-) There isn't a contest fee, and the word count is.. I think 50,000. Might be fun.. though I wouldn't call it a "riot" or "hysterical" (see Troy's Blog!)

Thanks again, everyone who has been behind me all the way, all the great, supportive emails really made the difference. Cheers!
Suzanne.

Tuesday, September 04, 2007

Diary of a mad woman...

Hey there all, I'll try and document as best as I can remember; I couldn't do it during the foray, because I had to bloody write, didn't I (say the last few words with a good, thick Brit accent :-) I took the odd pic of myself with my digi cam and a few pics of what I ate, the time, calendars and stuff.

The story itself is a Western, loosely based on a character I came up with for a potential erotica story (har har!) and later she actually got made into an RPG character for my friend Keith Savage's role-playing game that he invented (I won't name it here, because it's still in development!) Clayton and I are lucky beta-testers, and my character got to star in her own story with this game. (Well, Clay starred too, but my novel wasn't about his character.)

In fact, the words: loosely based are very accurate. I only used the idea of her origin in the story, and not the game itself. That would've been using KEITH'S story idea, and not my own. Big chunks of the novel wrote themselves, which is very nice. I love when that kind've thing happens.

I wrote 4 or 5 story "threads", that I attempted to pull together late Sunday afternoon. I pulled and pulled and most of them tied together, except for one connecting thread I just didn't have time to reattach. Of course I realized the futility of it around 11:58pm Monday night, and then it was too late :-P Well enough of my rambling.. here we go..

Saturday, September 1st, 2007

Got writing around 9:00am, after a pb & wildflower honey on toast brekky, with muchos coffee. Music to start the mood: William T. Stromberg's Trinity & Beyond The Atomic Bomb Movie sndtrk. This is a great soundtrack. If you like Basil Poledoris' Conan sndtrk, you'll love this. Go hunt it down somewhere! The next pieces of music I threw in were a couple of CD's I found at Big Bud's before it closed: Dad's Favorite Western Movie Themes Vol I & II. This basically set the theme for the whole book. Between other CD's, I kept switching back to those two and it really helped.

Mood-wise I was pretty upbeat and positive. Whenever I got stuck or needed a break, I went upstairs and took my friend Myra's doggies outside to walk around in the back yard and get some fresh air. Her dogs are a lot of fun and it cheered me up to play with them and just got my brain away from the story for a few minutes.

It was distracting writing with someone in the room watching TV, but with headphones attached to my massive JVC 80's style ghetto-blaster, I re-immersed myself in thematic music, which in turn, immersed me in the feel of the book.

Drank coffee and later, rye & lemonade (thanks for the suggestion Matt!), ate a mango, stretched, called friends, got back at it. Had left-over pizza for dinner, which was good, cause it didn't take much time to make. I rolled up the carpet on Day 1 around 11:45pm, thoroughly exhausted from the crappy night's sleep I'd had the night before and plumbing creativity all day. Page count: 35 My original idea, when I'd heard that the average submitted pages for 3-Day novels were between 90-120 pgs was to try to shoot for 40pgs/ day. Gahh..

Becky, the toy poodle, curled up and slept as sound as a log against my back. The little Shitsu Brody, barked for hours. Finally had to resort to earplugs...

Sunday, September 2nd, 2007
Woke late and blurry. Made scrambled eggs and toast for breakfast with Clay and was civil! :-D Took doggies outside, drank coffee and realized my brain was starting to buzz with the story. The buzzing was actually snatches of dialogue, scenes, character bits & pieces. There was the odd FLASH of "Yeah, I can link up that thread there..." Which is good, because I was getting worried that none of my story threads would link up...

Continued to drink coffee, then later switched to my homemade Margarita mix w/ ginger ale (thanks to Myra!) Ate Pringles, cookies..mmmMmm sugar... and kept typing. I found writing the second day went much more smoothly. Called Carol & Troy a couple of times & updated my insane status on Facebook to let them know I was still alive.


Music was again a very important part of the process because I had to completely submerge myself away from the TV, Clayton, the dogs, everything. I listened to a variety, again starting with Trinity, but then moving to the V for Vendetta sndtrk., Army of Darkness Sndtrk., Workingman's Dead - Grateful Dead, Indigo Girls' Retrospective, The Hulk Sndtrk... then looping back to the Dad's Favorite Western Movie Themes Vol I & II. Occasionally themes from the "Good The Bad & The Ugly" would penetrate my chattering brain and I'd go YEAH Yeah!!!

The doggies went home around 6:00pm, and were delighted to see that their "Mommy" returned for them. I've never seen dogs levitate before..so that was kinda cool! Had TVP tacos for dinner, which were good & didn't take that long to make. Hurray! Back at it... Knocked off around midnight with a healthier page count in the 80's, thank goodness. Felt burnt and confused, as well as a bit giddy. In fact, glancing at my work after talking with Carol, I saw (or thought I saw) completely different words on the page. I laughed hysterically and sent her this pic:

Monday, September 3rd, 2007
I woke with such an intense feeling of dread and exhaustion that I wanted to crawl back in bed and never emerge. Slid out like an otter and crept into the shower. Only water and scrubbing could save me now. My mind darted like zig-zag flashes you see out of the corners of your eyes when you're sleep-deprived. The story.. the story.. it was in my head, completely entrenched in my brain. It was continuing without me even being at the keyboard. Wait!! Wait! I groaned. The answer spun behind my eyes; the HOW of hooking up the impossible chunks of story that had tormented me the day before.

I can't even remember what I ate. I just slid down the basement stairs with my coffee, booted Clay off the computer, threw a CD in the player and got typing. I was elated, and mad with the need to get it down before it evaporated out of my head. I had to make it work.. had to..

The writing came easily Monday. It flew out of my fingertips... I'd take food/ bathroom/ stretch breaks... but the urge to return to the story would draw me back like a succubus' enticing siren song. When Mom turned up in the afternoon, it was a relief to have a break, and also difficult because I needed to get back to the story. She dropped off some beautiful chairs from my friends Lyn & Ralph, to go with my lovely antique oak table (an early birthday present! Hurray :-)

After she headed off, Clay & I finished the taco leftovers & then had angel food cake with ripe strawberries and cream. That was like heaven on your tongue.. Ooooh!! Precious, delightful strawberries!! Angel food cake! Squirty cream! CHHKKKAHHHhh!

I returned to the desk, which loomed in the darkness like my personal Sword of Damocles, or Sisyphus' cursed boulder & mountain. It was a curse and also the elated freedom of running barefoot down an empty beach with nothing but wind in your hair and the surf in your nostrils. I climbed back in and dialed up music.

Monday, I listened to: Run Lola Run, The Chieftains Film Cuts (they did music for a movie version of Treasure Island, which is my fav version of the film), Thrive (the same CD I listened to when I first invented "Ivy & Dummy"), John Debney's Cuttroat Island, disks 1 & 2, Madonna "Ray of Light", the old standbys from Days 1 & 2, Starship Troopers & Robocop sndtrks AWESOME!!! Trainspotting, Signs, Unbreakable, The Sixth Sense, and Steve Earle's "The Hard Way".

The words tumbled from my mind and fingers. I did too much editing and not enough pure writing, which killed me in the end. Looked up format online and proceeded to tweak the manuscript, adding my contact info at the top, a word count (36 800), and the title at last... TIERRA DEL MUERTO

I found that a couple of elements I wanted to use in my story, which is set in the 1870's thereabouts were... invented/ published in 1921! Drag! These included Yeats' wonderful poem "The Second Coming" (which I stuck in my book anyway in the introduction), and a couple of other things I can't remember.. The 'Net and Wiki were great for doing quick & dirty fact-checking, finding style pics on Google Images for things like hats, pistols and horses. I'm lucky, because Tuesday our connection went down totally... I'm really glad it didn't do that Monday morning.

By midnight, I'd finished 131 pgs and was in the throes of a turbulent emotional mixture of equal parts elation and disappointment. I couldn't believe I'd finished a book in 3 days, and I was a bit down because I still had one thread I'd not been able to tie-up within the novel. I'm sending it anyway, connected or not. It'd be a real shame not to! The reality is, there's nothing to stop me from continuing to work on the novel and to finish it the way I'd like to... The stipulation of the 3-Day contest is simply to keep an original that is in the same shape as the one you submitted. So that is cool.

At 12:15am, I grudgingly turned off the slightly overheated computer, took a few pics, and trudged to bed, where tired out as I was, I was still buzzing from the whole process. It took far too long to fall into sleep!

Miscellany!


I would like to thank Keith Savage for turning me on to lots of great, inspirational music! Thanks dude, it would've been a different story if I'd been listening to just Chris de Burgh, the Pogues and Hoots & Hellmouth!

I would also like to thank my folks for being behind me 110%, my friends for yelling at me to write like KENYANS and for singing the Uncle F**ker song from South Park over the phone at me, and also to all the other 3-Dayers out there, beating their brains out writing like crazies they are. Knowing we weren't alone helped.

Ooh yeah, and thanks to the organizers. With a prize incentive, it makes forays like this even better! (Here follows the incentive!)
Grand Prize: Publication
2nd Prize: $500 cash
3rd Prize: A great literary prize pack
And lots of prizes and fun stuff for everyone who makes the shortlist.


And finally...
How can you recreate the amazing soundtrack to the TIERRA DEL MUERTO 3-day novel in the privacy of your own home?

Follow ze links:
"Trinity and Beyond - The Atomic Bomb Movie" William T. Stromberg
"Dances with Wolves" by John Barry
"Small Soldiers" by Jerry Goldsmith
"Dad's Favorite Western Movie Themes" Vol I & II
Featuring The City of Prague Philharmonic, The Philharmonia Orchestra, The Westminster Philharmonic. 2 CD set with 20 outstanding "High Quality" modern digital recordings of classic Movie Themes. Featuring...... The Magnificent Seven, True Grit, Hang 'Em High, The Outlaw Josey Wales, How the West Was Won, The Good, The Bad and The Ugly, Dances With Wolves, Unforgiven, Maverick, A Distant Trumpet Red Sun, A Fistful of Dollars, Silverado, Gettysburg, Stagecoach, Lonesome Dove, The Big Country, The Last of The Mohicans, The Proud Rebel, The Professionals.
Army of Darkness Sndtrk by Joseph LoDuca
Track 23 From Red Sonja, by Ennio Morricone
Track 24 From Conan the Destroyer by Basil Poledoris
Track 25 from The Sword and the Sorcerer by David Whitaker
V for Vendetta Dario Marianelli
Starship Troopers, Robocop Basil Poledoris
Trainspotting
Steve Earle and the Dukes "The Hard Way"
Cutthroat Island Disk I & II John Debney
Madonna "Ray of Light"
Indigo Girls "Retrospective"
Deep Forest
The Grateful Dead "Workingman's Dead"
"The Hulk" Danny Elfman
Prem Joshua "Dakini Lounge Remixed"
Unbreakable & The Sixth Sense by James Newton Howard
Signs by James Newton Howard
Thrive (Very hard to find)
Run Lola Run sndtrk
The Chieftains "Film Cuts"

All written material & photographs (c) 2007 Suzanne A. Marsden

Wandering in the desert


I feel hollow inside, as Margaret Atwood described once in one of her books (can't recall... Edible Woman maybe?) Feel like my skull is a hollowed out melon, with nothing left but the rind... that's it; soft, crunchy with not much nutritional value.

Still, I live to write another day... The competition was amazing; intense, exciting, exhausting and very satisfying. I found that I ran out of time (I guess that's probably a common enough complaint.) Still, I was literally watching the minutes tick down on my computer clock, going Noooo, it's only 11:51pm, I still have 9 minutes left! Of course, if I'd known all that ahead of time, I probably wouldn't have participated in the following time-wasters:

*Looked after my friend's dogs (Mind you, the breaks outside with doggies, were lots of fun and helped refresh me to write again. Brody barking for 3 hrs. at night was a drag though.)
*Gone shopping Saturday (no matter how badly I needed goodies & booze. Why didn't I go Friday? Who knows..)
*Had a shower Sunday (big waste of time!)
*Cooked food that required more prep time than 15 minutes.
*Dressed (just writing naked would probably save tons of time.)
*Had fun with my Mom. Although, breaks are necessary, and having fun with your Mom is not a waste of time. Just wish I'd postponed it 'til.. I dunno.. today??
*Talked on the phone with all my friends.<- very good time waster.
That being said, talking briefly with Carol, and longer with Troy helped with my writer's resolve.. Sometimes you NEED to hear voices of reason (or insanity) to help goad you along to your goal. So, I wouldn't change that.

Things I'd change if I were to do it again?:

*Get more sleep the previous night. I was completely wound and anxious Friday night, so I got very little sleep before the actual event. The pre-competition tiredness slowed me down for sure.
*Try and eat more healthy food and less caffeine. After 3 days of Cola, Coffee, beer and Margarita slushies (thanks to my good buddy Myra!), my gut rot was horrible and I staggered around seeking antacid before bed, every single night.
*Try not to be too irritated with interruptions, stay relaxed (Sorry Clay!)
*Look AWAY from the screen occasionally.
*Try writing in a notebook in a variety of places--that might be a nice change, plus you're not tethered to the house, computer etc. I'm sure Clay would've enjoyed getting on the computer at some point on the weekend..
*Try doing a brief outline before plunging into the exercise; probably would've helped with pre-competition anxiety.

That all being said, I would love to do this challenge again next year, and highly recommend it as a great way to kick the ass out of writer's block. Like Scott McCloud's 24-hr comic, which I've mentioned about a billion times on this Blog, having that kind've deadline really gets your heart going. You'll either make it, or you'll explode. Since our survival instincts are pretty strong, you'll find that at the end of the 3 days, you'll probably have some kind've manuscript.

It was nice getting pre- and post- emails from the organizers of the 3-Day competition as well. I found it heartening.

Pre Email:
"...Dear future and returning 3-Day Novelists...If you need a
break from your novel, there's an entrant discussion forum...But don't spend too much time there during the contest! Get outside for a walk now and then, too."

Post Email:
"...Dear 3-dayers...We hope you're not too tormented in these final hours, or, if you are, that it's valuable torment..."

I also found reading their site (ACK another time waster!!) during the competition helped to cheer me up and made me feel a little less alone and insane. Especially the "Survival Tips" section.

As for the physical part of the writing; my eyes feel like small grapes rolled in talcum powder and left on a deck to dry. Seriously. My hands and feet have swollen (probably due to an overdose of salty products in the food department.) My hands in particular feel very stiff and non-responsive, even typing this is pretty uncomfortable. My shoulders, back and neck are sore, even though I had a couple of quick massages from the Clay dude. I'm thinking an hour's massage, or soaking in a place like Crystal Seas or something would be really nice.

Well, I guess those are my thoughts. As for the work itself, I'll post another Blog about the DETAILS for those interested. Basically, at the end of it all, I was left with 131 pgs, double spaced in 12pt font, that I'll be running off to Staples later on today to get them to print 2 copies. I'll be slapping copy #1 in an envelope and mailing it off to Vancouver tomorrow (deadline is this Friday!)

We find out news on the contest winners in January. GAH. Can we wait that long? Maybe I'll knock off a few more novels in the interim.. hahahahahahaAHAHAHAHaaha...ahh..ehh.. nah. :-)

Cheers, thanks for reading & being supportive!
Suzanne.

PS--Here's my friend Myra's great doggies, that kept me company Saturday & Sunday. Can you guess which one will get invited back next time? ;-)

Friday, August 31, 2007

The Throes of Ecstasy


Madness comes in many forms; sometimes it's the bucking, rabid Pony of Animation, that you cling to and try not to get bitten by..then fall off and chase until you can clamber back up on its back once more. Sometimes, it's the personal challenge of the unknown..the darkness that resides to the far left of the soul; the unblinking staring of the hazel eye in the reflective surface..the hollow depth of the pupil echoing back at you going: Well? WEELLL??

On the topic of Madness, I must confess, I have signed up for another tour of physical, mental and emotional challenges (not unlike the 41 hr deadline, or the 3 24-hour comics I've managed to complete.) No, this is the longest yet.. the 3-Day Novel Writing Competition. I'm not alone apparently; the loony bins have emptied their patrons.. they are staggering about the streets, typewriters in hands, stubbed pencils firmly in grip.. menacing blank sheets of paper with their gimlet eyes :-)

For some great info on the challenge, check this link! For information on my pals Troy & Carol Little and how they are coping with the challenge..check THIS link out. For info on how I'm doing.. well, you'll have to wait til Tuesday I guess... or Wednesday. The next Three Days are slated for the pure undiluted gesture of mad creativity, burning burning like Roman Candles.. Me and Jack bursting bubbles of soporific humdrum and zapping outside the megalomanic walls of existence.. until spent, one flops to the tiled floor in oozed somnolence and begs for sweet Morpheus to bear one aloft on starry steeds of sleep.

Ok, I've used up all my words;
the novel will consist of CAT
DOG
TOY
& possibly
LEPRECHAUN.

Cheers,
Suzanne.

Sunday, August 05, 2007

Plums in PEI

It is a beautiful long weekend summer morning on the Island. The sun is shining, a cool breeze wafts gently through the dark green maple and chestnut leaves, dappling the Little's new deck in cool shadow.

The drive from New Brunswick down the 11 out of Miramichi and through Shediac was fine. The road was clear and the speed limit quite high, so I made good time. Just before the turnoff to the 16, there was tons of traffic however. There had been an accident; I could see the black smoke rising from a cluster of vehicles in the distance. The sky turned dark and thunder rumbled in the distance. Rain hammered on the windshield as I listened to an old Music from the Glen (Atlantic Bridge.) I was hung up behind a huge camper with another truck and camper right behind me.

We waited, waited, waited. I turned off Cherry Bomb (the red Echo) to save gas. Also, she's been making this odd *thrummmming* noise sometimes, so I was a little worried about it. Cars further ahead decided against waiting anymore and did U-turns in the road, heading West. Some cars peeled away from the back and drove forward on the shoulder, then cut across a dirt track to try and get some headway. I thought it would be better to wait; since I didn't have a clue where the "dirt track" lead. My map said to go on the 15, and after my previous mishaps vs Lake Simcoe, I decided not to chance it.

After about 1/2 hour of sitting, cars slowly trickled out, heading towards me from the accident. One tooted joyously at the release of the jam. I threw on the Pogue's "If I should Fall from Grace with God" and found myself lurching forward as well. We spooled like thread, closer to the scene of the accident; as slow as cars trailing a hearse at 20 km/h. We passed two cars with a crumpled one between. Ahead was what I thought was a broken transport rig's cab. What it was was the front end of a tow-truck with the empty burned out shell of a huge camper hanging on it. All the belongings were charred; it was so pathetic and awful. Bicycles dangled from the back, forlorn and out of place.

The cars drove soberly by the scene, passing the rescue vehicles, police and other crew. I couldn't believe that the other truck that had driven towards us had beeped merrily like that... how could you do that if you had HAD to have seen the accident? What kind've person could jauntily honk at the sight of a burned vehicle..not even knowing if anyone had been hurt (or killed?)

I drove, listening to the Pogues and watched as the sky bled rain, then cleared. The sun burnished the clouds like pewter, then silver. I saw the Confederation Bridge and my heart jumped in my chest. I was almost there! The sea shone like silver, glittering dark where the clouds reflected against it. Over the rise of the bridge, I could see PEI's farm fields like yellow strips of gold against dotted green and black. The wind was crisp and tangy with salt. I left the mainland behind and eagerly drove the last stretch to Kensington. Finally, arrived around 4:30pm and got wonderful bone-crushing hugs in, just as it started to rain once again. Settled with beer and chats, girlie giggles from the twins and hearty halloos from Troy and Carol, I felt the last knotted tension in my back release.

Cheers,
Suzanne.

Thursday, August 02, 2007

Mangoes in Miramichi

Well, it's morning #2 in New Brunswick, and I am thankfully well rested, happily full of yogurt, raisin toast, Bridgehead "Monkey" coffee.. ;-) and a chopped up mango. Slept well on the pull-out couch/ air mattress combo in Robbie & Bobbie's living room in their new house.

Headed off Tuesday morning after a relaxing stay up at Anders & Vicki's place on the Big Rideau (pics to come!) Needless to say that although I got up at 5:30am July 31st, by the time I was done packing, making lunches, checking the animals and generally getting my crap together.. it was about 9:45am before I finally rolled out. It still felt good though; exciting and exilarating to leave the burbs and plunge the red Echo on the hwy.

Listened to Imani Coppola, a few mixes and, as I pulled closer to Montreal, put Leonard Cohen's "The Future" in the tapedeck. Oh, glorious tapedeck! The one thing my lovely white Mustang never possessed. There was a stalled car in the tunnel of the Hippolyte, which caused back ups, but after that, it was clear sailing.

The weather was staggeringly beautiful; intense blue sky, puffy clouds that look like they'd been painted on and the changing Canadian landscape that made me almost crash as I snapped a few pictures along the way... Cruising up past Quebec City is when the St. Laurence is visible and the lovely hills beyond, shrouded in mist quite inspiring.

What was less inspiring was the interminable road-work in La Belle Province. I guess that's what you get for traveling on a weekday :-P The worst was just outside Joly, where everyone just sat there looking glum. I had an old 1987 live recording of Spirit of the West at Massey Hall in TO to groove to, so as John Mann, Geoff Kelly and Hugh Mcmillan sang Homelands, we finally rolled forward.

The Echo cruised easily, barely using gas. Including the top-up near Rigaud, then just outside Riviere-de-Loup, I spent $58 on gas. I nibbled on fruit, PB & J sandwiches and blueberries, as well as demolishing an entire bag of red licorice... too good! I finally made it to the NB and kept my eyes peeled for the turn-off to Grand Falls and the "108" which turns into the Renous, a mythical logging road that twists like an epileptic octopus through the NB highlands. I didn't have to worry; all the roads were clearly marked and soon I was on my way. During this leg of the drive, I had a "Taste of the Maritimes" mix tape with Stan Rogers on one side and a variety of folks on the other..all singable and setting the mood. When it got too dark to see, I just flipped the tape over and listened to it again, instead of rooting through the bag for a new one.

Everywhere I looked it was pure beauty; the hills rising and falling before me, the thick shaggy spruce, and the coming sunset bathing everything in pink/orange. Oh yes.. the coming sunset.. twilight.. and finally. Night. Night on the Renous. :-O Dark as pitch, not a streetlight in sight on the old logging road..which went from paved to, paved & bumpy, to crumbly bumpy (including the humourful sign: Bumpy Road, next 10k!) to gravel.. And long! It was the longest gravel road on which I've ever driven. A deer flicked her ear in the shadows of the road & a rabbit did a zig-zag jig in front of the car before darting off the road and into the shadows. During one of the bumpiest parts of the road, I remember singing "Farewell to Nova Scotia" sounding like I was sitting on a spastic washing machine..very vibrato!

Finally, the moon slid like a dusky orange peach from between the black branches. She glided skyward, brightening, buttery; a freshly risen loaf, a golden cheese! I felt amazing...on the cusp of Lughnassa, caught up in the beauty of the moon & feeling connected to the drive, the land, the movement. Some otherworldly power kept watch on me as I sped through the night and finally, exited the Renous on the other side, grateful and sighing, unclenching white knuckled hands from the wheel.

I got a little turned around trying to get to Rob & Bobbie's... inadvertently crossing the wrong bridge. Glad I topped up my cell; a quick call, a few directions and I was making my way to the final leg of the 12 hour drive. There was Rob on the lawn waving and at last the Echo ceased.. the odometer read 1038 km. Whew...

A Pump House Ale was presented, along with many delighted hugs! We sank into comfy couches and I related my tale.... More posts & some pictures to come.

Wednesday, July 18, 2007

Galloping legends and the meaning of Glurge


Every now and again I get jokes and the like fwded to me (I'm sure, everyone who has email and the InterWeb does as well.) Occasionally, I get sensational stories,letters urging me to fwd them to alternately: Make Money, Something funny will appear, a Number of signatures will make something happen (but one never finds out what or if something actually gets done..), etc etc...

I think the ones that irk me the most are the Email forwards that purport to be true. Whenever I get one of these, my radar goes up and before I even think of passing them on to anybody, I check Urban Legends and/or Snopes. And baby, 9/10 of the time, the "true" story is a hoax. The one I got today is a beauty and the explanation detailed enough that I thought I'd share it with y'all.

Here ya go:

Statistics Canada | 170 Tunney's Pasture Driveway Ottawa ON K1A 0T6
Government of Canada
-----Original Message-----
From: ******** ***** - OID/DOI
Sent: Wednesday, July 18, 2007 7:00 AM
To: (undisclosed recipients)
Subject: FW: ONE OF THE BEST STORIES I'VE EVER HEARD!!!!!!

ONE OF THE BEST STORIES I'VE EVER HEARD!!!!!!

As she stood in front of her 5th grade class on the very first day of school, she told the children an untruth. Like most teachers, she looked at her students and said that she loved them all the same. However, that was impossible, because there in the front row, slumped in his seat, was a little boy named Teddy Stoddard.

Mrs. Thompson had watched Teddy the year before and noticed that he did not play well with the other children, that his clothes were messy and that he constantly needed a bath. In addition, Teddy could be unpleasant. It got to the point where Mrs. Thompson would actually take delight in marking his papers with a broad red pen, making bold X's and then putting a big "F" at the top of his papers.

At the school where Mrs. Thompson taught, she was required to review each child's past records and she put Teddy's off until last. However, when she reviewed his file, she was in for a surprise.

Teddy's first grade teacher wrote, "Teddy is a bright child with a ready laugh. He does his work neatly and has good manners... he is a joy to be around.."

His second grade teacher wrote, "Teddy is an excellent student, well liked by his classmates, but he is troubled because his mother has a terminal illness and life at home must be a struggle."

His third grade teacher wrote, "His mother's death has been hard on him. He tries to do his best, but his father doesn't show much interest, and his home life will soon affect him if some steps aren't taken."

Teddy's fourth grade teacher wrote, "Teddy is withdrawn and doesn't show much interest in school. He doesn't have many friends and he sometimes sleeps in class."

By now, Mrs. Thompson realized the problem and she was ashamed of herself. She felt even worse when her students brought her Christmas presents, wrapped in beautiful ribbons and bright paper, except for Teddy's. His present was clumsily wrapped in the heavy, brown paper that he got from a grocery bag. Mrs. Thompson took pains to open it in the middle of the other presents. Some of the children started to laugh when she found a rhinestone bracelet with some of the stones missing, and a bottle that was one-quarter full of perfume. But she stifled the children's laughter when she exclaimed how pretty the bracelet was, putting it on, and dabbing some of the perfume on her wrist. Teddy Stoddard stayed after school that day just long enough to say, "Mrs. Thompson, today you smelled just like my Mom used to."

After the children left, she cried for at least an hour. On that very day, she quit teaching reading, writing and arithmetic. Instead, she began to teach children. Mrs. Thompson paid particular attention to Teddy. As she worked with him, his mind seemed to come alive. The more she encouraged him, the faster he responded. By the end of the year, Teddy had become one of the smartest children in the class and, despite her lie that she would love all the children the same, Teddy became one of her "teacher's pets.."

A year later, she found a note under her door, from Teddy, telling her that she was the best teacher he ever had in his whole life.

Six years went by before she got another note from Teddy. He then wrote that he had finished high school, third in his class, and she was still the best teacher he ever had in life.

Four years after that, she got another letter, saying that while things had been tough at times, he'd stayed in school, had stuck with it, and would soon graduate from college with the highest of honors. He assured Mrs. Thompson that she was still the best and favorite teacher he had ever had in his whole life.

Then four more years passed and yet another letter came. This time he explained that after he got his bachelor's degree, he decided to go a little further. The letter explained that she was still the best and favorite teacher he ever had. But now his name was a little longer.... The letter was signed, Theodore F. Stoddard, MD.

The story does not end there. You see, there was yet another letter that spring. Teddy said he had met this girl and was going to be married. He explained that his father had died a couple of years ago and he was wondering if Mrs. Thompson might agree to sit at the wedding in the place that was usually reserved for the mother of the groom. Of course, Mrs. Thompson did. And guess what? She wore that bracelet, the one with several rhinestones missing. Moreover, she made sure she was wearing the perfume that Teddy remembered his mother wearing on their last Christmas together

They hugged each other, and Dr. Stoddard whispered in Mrs. Thompson's ear, "Thank you Mrs. Thompson for believing in me. Thank you so much for making me feel important and showing me that I could make a difference."

Mrs. Thompson, with tears in her eyes, whispered back. She said, "Teddy, you have it all wrong. You were the one who taught me that I could make a difference. I didn't know how to teach until I met you."

(For you that don't know, Teddy Stoddard is the Dr. at Iowa Methodist in Des Moines that has the Stoddard Cancer Wing.)

Warm someone's heart today. . . pass this along. I love this story so very much, I cry every time I read it. Just try to make a difference in someone's life today? tomorrow? just "do it".
Random acts of kindness, I think they call it!
"Believe in Angels, then return the favor"

=====================================================

From Snopes:

"Home --> **Glurge Gallery --> Teddy Bared

Teddy Bared
Claim: Teddy Stoddard, an objectionable little boy, gives his teacher old perfume and bracelet in gratitude for her kindness — the resulting friendship turns around his life.

Status: False.
Example: [Collected via e-mail, 1999]
Variations:
* The child is variously named "Teddy Stallart," "Teddy Stoddart," or "Teddy Stallard."
* Some versions in circulation conclude, "For those of you who don't know, Teddy Stoddard is the Dr. at Iowa Methodist in Des Moines that has the Stoddard Cancer Wing." There is no Dr. Teddy (or Theodore) Stoddard working at the John Stoddard Cancer Center at Iowa Methodist Medical Center in Des Moines. Moreover, that facility was named for John Stoddard, a real estate developer who donated money for the center after his own battle with cancer.

Origins: This Scent of Momtouching tale is one of pure invention: there is no Teddy Stoddart (or Stallart) whose life was so changed by one special teacher who reached out to him, no Mrs. Thompson of rhinestone bracelet-wearing fame.

This work of fiction was penned by Elizabeth Silance Ballard in 1976 and published that year in Home Life magazine. The author's intent was far from unclear, as the piece was clearly marked as fiction and was presented as such, not as an account of a personal experience.

Elizabeth Ballard (now Elizabeth Ungar) has encountered versions of her story on a number of occasions, as she noted in a 2001 interview with Pittsburgh Post-Gazette reporter Dennis Roddy: I've had people use it in their books, except they made it as if it happened to them. In the '80s I heard Robert Schuller tell this story on one of his broadcasts. He told it as if it was someone he knew. Schuller's personification of the tale is far from unusual — folks determined to make a point will often claim a closer relationship to a story than actually exists in an effort to get their message taken more seriously. Someone charmed by the Teddy Stoddart story will thus claim to actually know the teacher or the boy, although neither
exists.

Elizabeth Ungar (née Ballard) has come to see her story attributed to others. Those who do include the author's name along with the piece almost always get it wrong, with "Elizabeth Silance Baynard" proving to be a popular choice for this form of misattribution. Yet the name "Ballard" is key to how the fictional little boy — named Teddy Stallard in the original version — came by his name, and during his 2001 interview with the author, Dennis Roddy uncovered the backstory.

A friend who was filling in as a Sunday School teacher received a gift of cheap perfume and a broken rhinestone bracelet from a grubby little boy one Christmas, and afterwards she told Elizabeth Ungar about it. Ungar combined this incident with one from her own childhood: her Christmas gift of hand-picked pecans to her long-ago elementary school teacher. The box of the pecans had caused the other children to laugh derisively, but the teacher soon quelled them with the announcement she was making fruitcakes and these nuts were exactly what she'd been lacking. Her teacher's compassionate response coupled with her friend's story formed the basis for the work of fiction we now know as "Three Letters from Teddy." Teddy's last name came from this origin: The surname of the grandmother who urged young Elizabeth to bring pecans to her teacher (Stanley) was combined with the author's then surname (Ballard) to form "Stallard."

Can one special teacher make a lasting difference in the life of a child? Yes, absolutely. Our history books are filled with instances of precisely that. But those looking for a real-life example of the importance of teachers will have to look elsewhere than this story.

Barbara "unsteady teddy" Mikkelson

Sightings: Paul Harvey read this story during his daily radio broadcast on 4 April 1998.
The Teddy Stoddard story has also been turned into a glurgerific video.
Urban Legends Reference Pages © 1995-2007
by Barbara and David P. Mikkelson
Sources:
Baynard, Elizabeth Silance. "Three Letters from Teddy." In A 2nd Helping of Chicken Soup for the Soul. Deerfield Beach, FL: Health Communications, 1995.
In The Ten Greatest Gifts I Give My Children. New York: Simon & Schuster, 1994.
Roddy, Dennis. "A Story So Heartwarming, It's Unreal." The Pittsburgh Post-Gazette. 29 September 2001 (p.1)"

**PS I didn't know the definition of "Glurge" until I read the Snopes analysis.. for those of you wondering:

"...What is glurge? Think of it as chicken soup with several cups of sugar mixed in: It's supposed to be a method of delivering a remedy for what ails you by adding sweetening to make the cure more appealing, but the result is more often a sickly-sweet concoction that induces hyperglycemic fits.

In ordinary language, glurge is the sending of inspirational (often supposedly "true") tales that conceal much darker meanings than the uplifting moral lessons they purport to offer, and that undermine their messages by fabricating and distorting historical fact in the guise of offering a "true story."

Many of us, it seems, cannot overcome the urge to glurge."

Tuesday, June 19, 2007

Refuting Dave Sim

It has taken me a long while to get this together, mostly because it is difficult to read Dave Sim's "Fifteen Impossible Things to Believe Before Breakfast That Make You a Good Feminist" and excerpts from "Tangent" while remaining coherent. But at last, thanks to my leave, I've had the chance to do a 2nd draft of my initial thoughts.

If you are unfamiliar with Dave Sim ("Cerebus") and his Tangent writings, then the following will make more sense if you read them first.
Cheers,
Suzanne.

From the cave of the Feminist Homosexualist Axe Sis!

You don't have to be a thick-skinned dyke to be taken seriously, but it helps. I sure would love to be channeling a 6' Amazon if I ever happened to stumble into Dave Sim in Kitchener some day, because as he rightly says (one of his few truisms) comic-book people are a thin-skinned lot. I think it's partly from being a creative person, constantly wondering if you have any worth, if your stuff is good, if anyone will like it.

Ok, the genius of "Cerebus" aside, the acknowledged accomplishment of finishing 300 issues of a self-published comic book, the accolades, awards and fanaticism, the interesting toxin that spreads when he shakes his hallowed head, infecting more anti-feminista boy comic animation acolytes.. this is really about one thing: the Pariah King.

Dave has permanently imbedded his list of "Fifteen Impossible Things to Believe Before Breakfast That Make You a Good Feminist" on the Blog & Mail so that whenever you want to read about comics, you are faced with his witticism instead. Until you scroll lower, of course. Dave says his opinion is correct, because no Feminists have refuted his claims. So, here's mine. It's long, it's pretty dry, but it's the best I can come up with without having to go back to University.

Refutation

Dave Sim sez:
1. A mother who works a full-time job and delegates to strangers the raising of her children eight hours a day, five days a week does just as good a job as a mother who hand-rears her children full time.


Children are produced by women, sometimes with a husband, bfriend, or S.O. standing by to help, sometimes not. Women don't have the sole responsibility of raising their children. Here's a thought; why doesn't the father stay home, look after the child, and the mother can work. How about part-time daycare? How about a communal day-care shared with other families?

Of course your kids are not going to be as well raised if they are raised by strangers, instead of staying home and being raised by a mother OR a father. What is important here is the freedom of choice women should be allowed to continue to have. When you start saying: "Stay Home, Raise Children" and point to a woman, you are thrusting her back in time to when women were property, basically slaves, who did what they were ordered to or were killed, mutilated, etc. It isn't right, it took a long time to break the chains, and like the dyke coming out of her denim/leather closet, we ain't going back.

Saying that the only valid person to hand-raise a child is the kid's mother chains her to the house, no matter what the perceived benefits are. Saying that a mother does a better job raising her kid and giving up a career is forcing a choice that isn't fair.

Why don't you take the gender out of the issue. Look at it from the point of view that you should have TWO people raising a dependent Minor. Two people, not necessarily a man and a woman, not necessarily even married. You could have a brother and sister raising an adopted kid (like in Lucy Maud Montgomery's "Anne of Green Gables") or even a communal household. The importance for the child is attention, love, respect and being there. A stranger obviously isn't going to do as good of a job. So, find a way to balance the home life, career life and kid-life so that everyone is happy. Or at least tolerant of the balance.

Take turns. Sesame Street at least taught us one thing (even if it wasn't the disbelief of imaginary snuffleupagusses..) SHARE. If genderless partner #1 takes a year off work to raise progeny, then genderless partner #2 can do it the next year. Use in-laws. Use friends. Create a cooperative day care where everyone helps out. If you look at the question as a need that has to be met (child rearing), then either mother or father, or grandfather, or grandmother, or transgendered s/he Auncle could do it. It can be a shared responsibility and doesn't have to throw gender in it at all. If you're talking about single parents, then there is even more of a need to set up a collective where the hard work of raising kids can be shared. Work part-time, raise children part-time. The kids need the attention, love and guidance of a parent (or guardian) for their first years.. it seems like a lot to demand, but it is worth it.

Dave sez:
2. It makes great sense for the government to pay 10 to 15,000 dollars a year to fund a daycare space for a child so its mother - who pays perhaps 2,000 dollars in taxes - can be a contributing member of society.


Ok, Dave seems to be incensed about something here. Is it the gov't using his tax dollars to fund something he doesn't believe in? He believes in "legitimate" funding of things like the military and roads (even though he doesn't use a car) So having a military to kill people is ok, and roads to drive on is fine, but day-care isn't. The provision of a system to support raising children apparently is not up Dave's alley. Oh wait, maybe he's upset because the structure is put together so that the woman (the assumed person returning to work, and thus benefiting from the day-care) is underpaid and is under-contributing to the tax that supports the provided day-care. Hmm. Well, pay-equity would help with that. Women in Canada are still underpaid. Amazing in our apparently "equal" society. If this were not the case, part of Dave's argument gets blown away like tissue-paper.

What about all the people paying taxes to a system to support day care, schools etc who don't have kids? Should they petition the gov't to give them a break? What about people who don't believe in the military and don't have a car? Maybe we can get a break on our taxes so we don't have to finance them either...

The country works because everyone contributes tax dollars to a gov't that in turn, spends (or wastes) the money on programs that benefit the country. And if you really don't like how the whole things works, you can vote to make a change. Interestingly enough, lots of people don't vote. Amazing.. women suffragettes busted their asses so we could get the vote and now, that we're fat and sassy, a lot of modern women don't even go to the polls. If you don't vote, you don't get a say. If you honestly don't believe casting a vote will change anything, try proposing amendments to the way things are being done. Join a community group, run for office yourself! Or, propose constructive criticism that makes some sane sense. Abolishing all day care and writing up a new law saying any woman who has a kid has to stay home and look after it makes about as much sense as burning homosexuals, shooting the Irish and forcing Black people to work your fields for you, so you can sit on your porch and have a nice cool drink. Think about it.

So, to answer Dave's #2: Pay equity for women = good, because when they return to work, they will contribute more tax dollars to the gov't and thus be helping to support day care which in turn, keeps them from the slavery they escaped in the first place. And again, if you go gender-less in this argument, things work much better. If you're running a day-care collective, taking turns raising kids, then you don't have to worry about #2 as much anyway. Oh yes, and remember to vote. Yassuh!

Dave sez:
3. A woman's doctor has more of a valid claim to participate in the decision to abort a fetus than does the father of that fetus.


A woman's body is her own. A woman's doctor is a professional, paid by our gov't to help with physical and mental ailments and to diagnose and suggest treatment, etc. A potential father of a potential fetus, representing 50% of his genetic donation, as a partner of a potential family unit has a say in what happens to the potential child. A woman who was a rape victim and is seeking to abort an unwanted fetus has the right to seek a Doctor's assistance and opinion, and if necessary, the surgical process required to abort.

If we revoke someone's right to their own body, things can get really out of hand. Not just about abortions, fetuses, etc either. Think about organ donors; blood donors; stem-cells, hell, you name it, someone will buy it. Your body is your own property. The minute it is not your property, you can get clocked outside a bar, have your organs harvested, sold and end up dead very quickly. Hmm, or am I being a bit spec/fic here? Possibly...

Until a kid is born, it is a potential child. Life, may physically begin at conception, when cells collide, but the fetus cannot survive independently outside of the womb. It cannot lead an independent life, thrive, grow, rape or be raped, pay its taxes or anything else. It is the property of the womb, outside of which it will die. Until a fetus can live on its own, it is the property of the Host. And if needed, can be aborted.

What else? Ok, the automatic assumption that a father should have a 50% say on the destiny of the potential fetus. Depending on the relationship between the woman & man, sure. There should be open communication and understanding. A Doctor would not necessarily have a more valid claim on the decision, unless the birth of the potential child would unnecessarily endanger the life of the woman.

Why do men feel slightly left out of this decision making? Well, it is something that traditionally has been the woman's domain. Remember, up until recently lots, lots LOTS of women died in childbirth. Just think, running around, procreating, "being fruitful", could and very often did kill women. Being pregnant is dangerous; and giving birth, with all the hemorrhaging blood everywhere, more so. And guys just never have to enter into that risk. I know, passing a kidney stone hurts like hell: "just like childbirth"; but it won't make you bleed to death dude. So, guys' suggestions not-withstanding, the ultimate decision lies with the woman. It's her body, she's the host of the potential fetus, it's her risk (since carrying to term could kill her in the end) and ultimately if she wants to abort, she should.

Using abortion as a method of birth-control is a really dumb thing to do. Just because you're too lazy to put a condom on your boyfriend's penis before he comes, or get a prescription for birth control pills, or SOMETHING doesn't mean you should abort a fetus every time you discover: *surprise*! Sex made me pregnant? Education is the best tool for fighting unwanted pregnancies and abortions. Learning about safe sex and protection saves lives, both by protecting against disease and by stopping unwanted fetuses from even occurring.


Unfortunately, my gender-less argument doesn't work with #3, since as of yet, men cannot be impregnated against their wills by other people and be forced to make the decision to abort or not abort a potential fetus. With cloning, and other bio sciences, who knows what ethical dilemmas hover in our futures?

Dave sez:
4. So long as a woman makes a decision after consulting with her doctor, she is incapable of making an unethical choice.


This seems to be connected with the previous statement, since by itself it sounds kind've silly. I mean, is there an ethical choice if your Doctor recommends medication to clear up your yeast infection? Umm, so since it seems to be connecting to the abortion statement (# 3) I'll just reiterate what I said there.

Anybody, men, women, trans FtM and MtF, hermaphrodites, genderless beings... can make ethical and unethical choices after consulting with their Doctors, or heck without consulting. This seems to be a knee-jerk statement about a woman seeking professional help and counseling with regard to the decision to abort or carry to term a potential fetus. Ethically, each person has to stand in front of the mirror, look themselves in the eye and say, "Did I make the right choice?" "Do I have to right to end this life?" "Is this 3 cm long wiggly worm life?" "Should I carry a baby that my Dad impregnated me with when I'm only 13?" Who has the right to make these decisions for us? No one. You have to weigh the decision carefully, consult Doctors, your family, consult counselors, think, breathe, question. Then decide. It is not a decision you just suddenly make. The big ones never are. Do you think it's easy having to end up in this kind've situation and deal with the ramifications?

In some countries of course, women are still property and the decision is moot, because they aren't allowed to make them. They get beaten, raped, and if they're not lucky enough to be stoned by their relatives or have disfiguring acid thrown in their faces, they get to carry their Uncle's rape-baby. What a joy that would be. And if you're really lucky, you'll live to see your daughter raped by her great-uncle AND father! But, for some people, the desire to return to a "simpler" life, before Feminism helped to break the chains of slavery is appealing. It is understandable that the appeal is mostly for men.

In answer to #4; ethics is a personal set of morals and beliefs, and ultimately, everyone must make their own decision and face their own demons. Doctors are not all-knowing and with or without their consultation, don't really have an ethical influence on the decision that a woman would have to make (regarding abortion.)

Dave sez:
5. A car with two steering wheels, two gas pedals and two brakes drives more efficiently than a car with one steering wheel, one gas pedal and one brake which is why marriage should always be an equal partnership.


Marriage is not a car.

I should just leave it at that to be an ass; but I'm a long-winded Feminista and I love to get a ball rolling.

Share.

A car doesn't have to be built by Jacob Two-Two to be driven by two people. Stop at a Wendy's, go pee, get a coffee, switch sides and let genderless person #1 drive for then next 4 hours. At the Tim Horton's, stop, go pee, get a coffee, switch sides and let genderless person #2 drive for the next 4 hours. Find a motel, stop, decide who wants to pay for the room (if you're not married. If you're married, the cash all comes out of the same account; yes, a "shared" account!) Since genderless person #1 got the ice yesterday, genderless person #2 can get the ice today.
Fucking Share.

I think I've just about exhausted that..

If this isn't really about cars being a metaphor for marriage, and more about marriage being something that has to be guided by one person or another, then I'll probably have to talk more. To statement #5 I bring only my own experience; which although not officially married, apparently I am common-law, having co-habited with a guy for 8 years. If you have a relationship and you are both followers, it makes decision-making very difficult. If one person is a natural leader and the other a follower, you can get a hell of a lot more accomplished. If you're both leaders, you'll spend more time arguing and beating the tar out of each other than deciding anything anyway. My partner & I are both followers. When it comes to decision-making, it comes down to who is the strongest follower. The one who wants to follow the most will back right out of decisions and the other follower has to pick up the lead, whether they want to or not. It's not even really about sharing, but more of an abdication of power and tossing the battered crown back and forth. It's not a great way to drive anywhere really. But then, marriage is not a car.

Dave sez:
6. It is absolutely necessary for women to be allowed to join or participate fully in any gathering place for men, just as it is absolutely necessary that there be women only environments from which men are excluded.


Ok, on the outside, the root of this statement's origins are pretty sane. Why shouldn't guys have places where only they are allowed? They do; they're called Dens.

Humour aside, the root of it comes down to respect and permission. It is also the rectification of centuries of abuse, murder, slavery and rape. The Masonic Order is an organization that excludes women. No problem. I don't want to prance around in an apron, memorize crap and stand in front of everyone reciting it. I hated it in Grade 8 and I still do. Oh, wait a minute; the Masons actually have a branch for their wives and S.O's! It's called the Daughters of the Eastern Star. Do you know what the main point of the Daughters is? The main point is that if the Masons have a big "to-do" and the Grand Poobah comes for a visit, someone has to provide a nice big multi-course meal for all the guys. And you can bet that these guys don't have a clue about the novel idea of catering. Why should you cater something when your Slave-wife will cook for you at the drop of a hat? Thank goodness for the women's branch of our organization! Can we write more kow-towing bootlicking garbage into the Daughter's mandate? Sure! We made up the whole thing ourselves anyway!

So, needless to say, I won't be lining up to become a "Daughter" any time soon. And if the Grand Poobah and retinue drops in for a visit? They can cook their own damn meatloaf and lemon meringue pies.

Women need safe environments which exclude men. Yup. They do.
Since the beginning of organized society, for the most part, men have controlled everything. Women were property, men owned them and could do pretty much anything they wanted to to them. Just recently, the Feminist movement has helped to provide safe spaces for women, equal rights, pay equity, the right to vote, etc. The holdover of fear though, is still there. Women who are victims of murder are more often killed by their boyfriends or husbands. Women are killed by men. Women need a safe space to be away from men, especially if they have been the victims of abuse (both physical and emotional) or rape. They need a place where if counseling is happening, they are not going to have to deal with more traumatizing crap that the appearance of a man would set off.

Many abusive males in critical (terminal?) situations threaten not only that they will kill their female partners, but that they will hunt down and kill their families, friends, and children. If some psycho threatened you like that, wouldn't you want a place where his gender wasn't permitted and you could get support from other women?

Dave sez:
7. Because it involves taking jobs away from men and giving them to women, affirmative action makes for a fairer and more just society.


According to the American Heritage Dictionary, "affirmative action is: a policy or a program that seeks to redress past discrimination through active measures to ensure equal opportunity, as in education and employment."

A fair and just society would be one where an equal representation of all genders, races and religions, abilities and ages would be present in all work places, don't you think? Does that not sound fair? Affirmative action is designed to encourage people of different racial, gender, sexual orientation and religious background to pursue and land public service positions like in the Federal and Municipal governments. I know, I know, if you're a white, straight guy, you're angry because all of a sudden you don't fit into any categories on the application form any more. You know what? Tough luck. Yes, I know that sounds harsh. It is the present style of governments (Canada's specifically) to apologize for screw-ups in the past (sorry, Japanese POWs) and to try and fix things retroactively. For a long, long time, if you WEREN'T white, straight and a guy, you didn't get a good job. Yes, there were jobs around you could have; if you were a woman you could be a: nurse, teacher, missionary, housekeeper or wife. If you weren't white, you could do just about any menial job available, (drive a cab, or be a nanny or housekeeper.) Does this sound stereotypical? Well, stereotypes exist for a reason. The Canadian Government is sorry it screwed over women, and the women and men of non-Caucasian races and gays. The Government instituted affirmative action to fix this; it ain't perfect, but if you can suggest something that would equally represent a nation which is a multi-racial mosaic with over 50% women in it, go for it.

Dave sez:
8. It is important to have lower physical standards for women firepersons and women policepersons so that, one day, half of all firepersons and policepersons will be women, thus more effectively protecting the safety of the public.


Having a sliding scale for physical requirements, so that represented people of all races and genders have a chance to qualify for positions to help the public is the only fair way to standardize a system without excluding visible minorities. A woman police officer with a side arm can protect you just as ably as a male police officer with a side arm: SHE HAS A GUN, dumbass! A female firefighter who passes physical requirements has to be able to carry someone, just like the boys do. Although, I'm afraid even a strapping fireman would have a tough time hauling my ass out of a burning building, unless he can deadlift 350lbs. So in that sense, it is moot.

Dave sez:
9. Affirmative action at colleges and universities needs to be maintained now that more women than men are being enrolled, in order to keep from giving men an unfair advantage academically.


Men have had the upper hand in all education since time immemorial. Again, affirmative action is trying to rectify unfairness in accepting enrollment not just from women but also different races, and people with different abilities and orientations. It is still difficult to get into an academic position if your grades suck, no matter who or what you are. The current rules are put in place simply to make things fair, after a history of discrimination, hatred and lynchings.

Dave sez:
10. Having ensured that there is no environment for men where women don't belong (see no.6) it is important to have zero tolerance of any expression or action which any woman might regard as sexist to ensure greater freedom for everyone.


Sexism, racism, hate-crimes, anti-Semitism, and such don't seem like things that rational people would want to petition to be able to express publicly. If you really want to stand around and slur people who are different than you, do it in the privacy of your own home. There are differences between what Freedom of Speech stands for and the promotion of blatant hatred and misinformation. The same people who spray-paint swastikas on Jewish graves are cut from similar cloth to those that denounce women and murder them with crossbows. Just as racism is intolerable, so is sexism and displays of hatred for people who are differently abled, sexually identified etc.

Dave sez:
11. Only in a society which maintains a level of 95% of alimony and child support being paid by men to women can men and women be considered as equals.


Dave, you can't have it both ways. If you want women to stay at home and raise the kids they gave birth to and didn't abort, thus losing their potential income earning ability, ya gotta pay. If, on the other hand, you support women being able to put their kids (wait, their 50% child, since kids don't just spontaneously occur in the womb, generally) into gov't sponsored daycare so that they can return to work and earn a wage, then you just refuted argument #1 didn't you? Kids cost money. You can't just screw around with a woman, get a divorce, take off and expect her to raise 50% of your genetic inheritance. Do you know how hard it is to raise kids on your own? Alimony was instituted for a reason; to help offset the costs of raising a kid.

The other side of alimony is to support a person that basically has not been allowed to work for some time. Usually (in the "good old days") a guy would marry a woman, she'd stop working (or never worked to begin with, because there were only basically 4 job categories available to her at the time), and would be the unpaid maid, cook, shopper, organizer and sex partner to her guy. After 10 or 15 years when they split, she's completely out of the employment loop. She has to start at square one, competing with 19 year olds for jobs with requirements she's not trained to deal with. Alimony helps women get on their feet when they've been out of the professional work force.

Also, if a woman is making more money than her mate (rare enough) she pays him alimony. One should also consider that the percentage of guys who just split and pay absolutely nothing is still pretty high.

Dave sez:
12. An airline stewardess who earned $20,000 a year at the time that she married a baseball player earning $6 million a year is entitled, in the event of a divorce, to $3 million for each year of the marriage and probably more.


...And a gas jockey earning $17,500 marries an actress making $24 million... blahblahblah.

Two words: Pre-nup.
According to Webster's New Millennium™ Dictionary of English a "Prenuptial agreement is a written contract between two people who are about to marry, setting out terms concerning division of assets, earnings, and property if the marriage is later dissolved; also called [prenup, [antenuptial agreement], [premarital agreement]"

Dave sez:
13. A man's opinions on how to rear and/or raise a child are invalid because he is not the child's mother. However, his financial obligation is greater because no woman gets pregnant by herself.


Pure opinion Dave. A man's opinions on how to rear and/or raise his 50% genetic donation are just as valid as the woman's. Although the man hasn't physically carried the embryo and later fetus, or gone through the agonizing trauma of sometimes a 36 hour delivery, although he most likely (I'm generalizing here) hasn't spent much time caring for other kids in his immediate family and probably hasn't read much child-rearing material, sure, Dave, he has a 50% say in the rearing of his child. As long as the parents are both participating equally in the raising, supporting, nurturing and nourishing of the child, they each get a 50% say. In a perfect world such would be the case. Many times though, if the woman is (as in case #1) staying home, raising the kid(s) herself and spending almost 100% of her time with them, she has a much better idea of their needs and the style in which they should be reared than the guy who, since, Mom is at home, has gotta be out winning the bread, is only spending maybe 20% of his time with his kid(s). It's mathematics, pure and simple.

If you don't like the way it gets sliced, make yourself a new pie and cut it down the middle. Kids don't care as long as they get plenty of love, attention and the basic necessities. Seriously.

Dave sez:
14. Disagreeing with any of these statements makes you anti-woman and/or a misogynist.


Well, that's a pretty broad brush. I'd say that as long as we live in a free country and that Freedom of Speech is a right, you have the right to agree or disagree with anyone's statements. Being an intelligent, well-read, caring individual means that you're most likely going to have a slightly more educated opinion than the average Joe or Jill. I think spouting out a bunch of ill-conceived misogynistic crap and then being surprised when women take offense to it is a little simple. Equally, I think that women who knee-jerk a muscular thigh into Dave's crotch are just as simple. Read, learn, absorb, reflect, form an opinion and opine. Refute. Keep thinking. The easiest way for women to find themselves chained back in the corner of the kitchen, bent over being shafted while they simultaneously cook, eat, clean and raise children is for them to assume that the Feminist Agenda is chugging along smoothly and doesn't need any additional attention or help.


Dave sez:
15. Legislature Seats must be allocated to women and women must be allowed to bypass the democratic winnowing process in order to guarantee female representation and, thereby, make democracy fairer.


Of course not. Look at what is really trying to be accomplished here:
Democracy is equal representation. However, if you look back at the birth of democracy, there are big gaps back there.. giant gaps where there were absolutely no women to be found. No gays, blacks, Asians either.. waitaminute; things looked distinctly male and whitish for a really long time. Right, only people who had rights of citizenry could vote. In merry old England that excluded Criminals, Idiots, Women and Minors. In the States, that excluded anyone not male and not white and not attending a recognizable church (or having property.) Changing things so that there is an increase in representation for the voting populace equalizes the voice of the people. Eventually, it will happen on its own (one would hope), but for now, it seems that positions need to be filled by the opposite gender than what has occupied the seats for centuries. Barring matriarchal royalty (which ain't exactly democratic) the equality of female representation has waited too damned long to occur. Look at the population breakdown: of the 32,623,490 people in our country; 16,155,454 are men and 16,468,036 are women. Now, it's a no-brainer to see that there are 312, 582 more women than men in Canada (at least according to Statistics Canada!) Is it wrong that there should be equal representation of our population in government? Of course not. It's not feasibly enforceable to change things so that we not only get slightly more than 50% female representation, but also the 10% GLBTTQ representation as well..oh and the racial and religious spectrums too... To make things easier, we'll just say that most gov't jobs are more open to visible minorities than they used to be. Over time, representation of all of Canada's myriad people will be accomplished. And in the meantime, like some of the other topics we're dealing with; the country is making up for past inconsistencies.


More Refutations against Mr. Sim - Excerpts from Tangent


Dave Sim sez:
"Emotion, whatever the Female Void would have you believe, is not a more Exalted State than is Thought. In point of fact, I think Emotion is animalistic, serpent-brain stuff. Animals do not Think, but I am reasonably certain that they have Emotions. 'Eating this makes me Happy.' 'When my fur is all wet and I am cold, it makes me Sad." "Ooo! Puppies!' 'It makes me Excited to Chase the Ball!' Reason, as any husband can tell you, doesn't stand a chance in an argument with Emotion... this was the fundamental reason, I believe, that women were denied the vote for so long."


Take your library card, get down to the public library and check out "When Elephants Weep: The Emotional Lives of Animals" by Jeffrey Moussaieff Masson & Susan McCarthy. One of the things the authors spend an enormous amount of the book's introduction and subsequent early chapters on is the affirmation in the scientific community that animals don't feel. Everything is laid out in perfectly logical explanation; animal response, habits, mating, etc. It is only later in the book, and by squeezing the odd renegade scientist who refuses to back down from the obvious actions of animals in front of him that we get examples of animals expressing emotion.

Dave's brush, as broad as ever "that animals feel", is actually a very very tiny voice in the scientific wilderness. He would probably be better going with the "animals think" card, since it, at least, is a lot easier to test and classify. We have evidence that dolphins think, that rats think, that dogs, pigs, cats and simians think. It is scientifically encouraged to show that animals think. Not so with feelings.

Basically, it's hogwash anyway. Homo Sapiens, are animals, separated merely by invention and our ability to adapt to any climate. We are thinking, feeling creatures, pursuing the modes of survival, and in those moments between food, sex, shelter and competition, we reflect (as some bears do [see above book source] on the beauty of sunsets.)

Dave sez:
"Behind this...lies the Greater Void, the Omnivorous Engine which drives every... institutionalized waste of human time and energy, which drives, in point of fact, our entire degraded society. The wife and kids."


I'm sure a greater omnivorous engine would be the non-productive partner who languishes in creative thought while being supported by the productive partner who not only procures food, but cooks, serves, cleans, organizes, nurtures, teaches and disciplines offspring and the like, efficiently and without a word of complaint.

As long as people pro-create, some person(s) will have to take time from their busy lives to raise and take care of children. If you don't want the financial and emotional drain of a supportive partner and family; the answer is easy. Avoid attachments to people, avoid emotional attachment, love, what-have-you, avoid sex, and for heaven's sake don't narcissistically produce children if you are not interested in their emotional, mental, spiritual and physical needs. Because they are draining.

If you want to sit and produce your Light by yourself, do so. Don't blame your partner and your 50% genetic contribution for sucking every ounce of your energy away from you. There is always, always a choice.

Dave sez:
"In one of those Poor Us studies for which the Emotional Female Void is notorious, it was pointed out that after a divorce, the average male standard of living rises... the average female standard of living drops... I think the...explanation is that the excision of a five-to-six- foot leech from the surface of a human body is going to have more of its own blood in its own veins. Unless the leech finds another body, it is going to go hungry."


Standard of living = more free money available to spend on things not necessarily essential to life. Most women in the situation of a divorce find themselves either having to raise children on their own, thus having either far less, or absolutely NO spare money to spend on non-essentials, or are adrift in a professional limbo because they have been out of work for so long, that it is difficult to reenter the work force. While the male partner has been moving upward in the corporate ladder, the female partner stopped her career to either raise their collective progeny, or to support and take care of the male partner in a way that suited his needs. With a divorce, the female partner is left completely at loose ends. Not mentioning the feeling of emotional destruction that permeates the difficulty of divorce, but it is no wonder men thrive after leaving this kind of a situation. They haven't lost anything professionally; they are not supporting a family on their own.

Dave sez:
"In labouring to fill the insatiable Void Need for material possessions at home, his time and his energy and his spirit disappear into the Vaginal Bottom Line of the workplace."


Pure Dave opinion. Many women (self included) have very little interest in accruing possessions. In fact, I earn more than my male partner and scour used book stores instead of new. Most of our possessions are hand-me-downs, and I rarely haunt clothing stores. Many guys I know are voracious consumers, dropping half a pay cheque on toys, comics, books, movies and the like. If the statement above is how a person happens to be feeling; trapped in a job they hate, in a rat-race of repetition, unable to come up for air, living pay-cheque to pay-cheque, maybe they shouldn't have gotten the half-a-million dollar mortgage? Maybe they should be thinking about reorganizing their finances? Maybe buying furniture at the Neighbourhood Services might be an idea? Nothing has to be brand-new off the shelf you know...

As for the Vaginal Bottom Line... many people work hard, spend lots of money with no regard for the vulva or inner intricacies of the female. This supposed "pussy power" of which you speak is not necessarily the supreme matriarchal voodoo ointment cloying the male masses that you seem to think it is. Do your male readers a favour and grant them an iota of free-will and independent thought Dave. Grant your women readers (I'm sure there's still a couple out there) the same respect. You might even sell a couple more books.

Dave sez:
"The Male Light and the Female Void: Seminal Energy and Omnivorous Parasite."


Whatever.

When exploring the mysteries of mythology, it is interesting to note that in Wiccan and AmerIndian beliefs, the Full Moon is representational of male power and the New Moon (or dark of the moon) is a symbol of woman's power. I could go to town talking about Celtic beliefs as well, and would (ya never know) perhaps find a sympathetic ear in Sim-land, after all, his personal beliefs are a hegemony mish-mash of Judaism, Christianity, and Islam. But then again, early Celtic beliefs are pretty female-centred, believing as they did that the Earth herself, the giving, fertile land was feminine and the creator which at the end of things was there to welcome one back into the life-giving womb.


Dave sez:
"If you look at her and see anything besides emptiness, fear and emotional hunger, you are looking at the parts of yourself which have been consumed to that point."


Whatever (again.) Starting to repeat myself here.

In the mythology of Sim-land, one supposes that he had a run-in with a particularly grabby, cloying, all-encompassing female. Men can be just as overbearing and encompassing. In fact, if one looks at studies involving emotional abuse of women, the partner men set themselves up to be the devouring whole from which the emotionally abused woman finds herself unable to easily extricate.

Dave sez:
"It wouldn't be that big a stretch to categorize my writing as Hate Literature against women . . . in this Fascistic Feminist country"


We live in a country that thankfully has laws that protect not only women, but anyone who happens to be different from the norm (and the norm) from abuse, discrimination, racism, hate-crimes, unethical firing practices, abuse in the work-place and much, much more. We enjoy a country that has health care, and Freedom of Speech. Canada is the antithesis of Fascism, and to accuse it as such puts down many people who fought and died to preserve freedom in our country. If you have problems accepting policies the government puts in to practice, then continue to speak freely, write letters, vote, put together committees and display your displeasure. Thankfully, in this country, it is unlikely that you will be kidnapped and shot for voicing a different opinion.

Much of Sim's writing is very close to being hate-literature, but as long as there are strong feminist (not necessarily female) advocates to refute not only his ridiculous Things To Believe Before Breakfast but all of his rantings, they could be considered more "dislike"-literature than hate. Hate is such a strong, emotional word after all.

June 19th, 2007
Suzanne A. Marsden