Issue 4:
Don't Bother Me, I'm Thinking
By
Medulla Vesuvius
Let me tell you people something. One of my favorite settings for action in a movie is the library. I think this is because a library is not a neutral setting, like a living room or city street. Libraries are chosen as a setting for a reason. But before I get into all of that, let me tell you about some of my favorite library movie scenes:
- Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade- Dr. Jones and Dr. Elsa Schneider bust through the floor of the European library that has the huge X, revealing the catacombs underneath. The idea of a library holding secrets, (in this case, secrets to finding the Holy Grail), is a good one-good enough for Dan Brown to re-use in The Da Vinci Code. And let us not forget the secret sex manual hidden underneath a shelf in American Pie.
- Ghostbusters- Who can forget about the opening scene, where that lone after-hours librarian watches the card catalog take flight? Clearly, libraries can be spooky places after dark, as also evidenced in scenes from The Neverending Story.
- 3 O’Clock High- I like the library scene in this movie, where a row of shelves go down like a line of dominos. There is no better setting for a fight, not even a china shop. Because unlike the china shop, all noises are amplified in a library. Out of order, chaos.
- Most importantly, though, is The Day After Tomorrow, where people survive pretty much the worst week of weather imaginable in the New York Public Library. While the movie as a whole was kind of average and a little preachy at the end, the library scenes raised some interesting questions. With nothing but spare time, the refugees wax philosophic about whether it’s ok to burn the books for warmth and if so, what subject matter is most or least expendable, poetry vs. science.
Clearly, libraries are more than just interesting settings for movies. A library is much more than four walls and a roof, much more than just a bunch of books. Ever since ancient guys in dusty Mediterranean cities decided to keep track of all of their vegetable sales on stone tablets and papyrus, libraries have been our repositories of information, second only to our large brains. Through the ages, we have had this one basic premise: some information should be preserved.
But as I sit here typing this, staring into my 18″ computer monitor, I can’t help but wonder– do we as a species really need libraries any more? Do we really need all of those books and maps and magazines and journals and videos anymore? After all, books take up quite a bit of room. Wasn’t the digital revolution supposed to do away with all of that waste? I remember in the early days of CD-ROMs when their capacity was unofficially measured in advertising copy by how many sets of encyclopedia they could hold. Truly, we are in an age when there’s nothing that can’t be neatly transformed into a string of 0s and 1s. The amount of information that is almost instantly retrievable from the computer in front of me is mind-blowing. Other than the odd chance of somebody absent-mindedly unplugging the entire Internet, cyberspace has pretty handily rendered the brick-and-mortar library with books inside…superfluous. (Indeed, most libraries today don’t deny the power and convenience of the Internet, as you can find multiple Internet computers within.)
But as Luddite and backwards as it sounds, I think it would be a shame if we lost books and libraries to hard drives and virtual information. To me, libraries are the last vestige of order and permanence in our world. Building a library and filling it with books is our way of making a contract simultaneously with the past and with the future. For in doing so, we not only show our commitment to yesterday’s knowledge, pain and ecstasy and tomorrow’s learning, but we also make an attempt at creating something of permanence– a dying idea in today’s world, which is always in flux, transitory. (Think, for instance, how often a news website like cnn.com updates. Or how frustrating it is to see that a friend hasn’t updated their blog in over 6 hours!)
A library whispers to us from the past, saying that knowledge is not only important, but is important enough to build walls around. Knowledge is not some amorphous plaything to download when you feel like it. That amorphous plaything would better be defined as information. But knowledge–well, knowledge is something else, requiring a disciplined search and reverence. Knowledge is information with a person attached.
I think that the physical component to knowledge-books, maps, etc. is very important because of the interaction with information they provide. When I open a book, I smell the effects of time on the pages as the glue and the ink and the binding have broken down over the book’s life. I do not choose the word “life” haphazardly, because it is almost as if the information contained within is alive–much more so than a bunch of digital ones and zeroes on a hard drive located somewhere halfway around the world.
When holding a book, you can’t help but be reminded that those pages collected in front of you were somebody’s intellectual baby at one time. Multiple somebodies went to quite a bit of effort and monetary expense to bring that book into existence. This physical interaction with knowledge keeps a person humble. As I walk down aisle upon aisle of books I’ll never read in a library, I’m constantly reminded of all of the things I’ll never know, all of the previous readers I’ll never meet. In contrast, search engines have a way of narrowing the world down to a personalized, manageable set of information. Indeed, that’s their purpose isn’t it? A search engine would lead us to believe that knowledge exists for us, but it’s probably truer that we exist for knowledge.
Physical libraries also go hand in hand with American democracy and freedom, in providing the opportunity for education for anybody who can walk in the doors, which is much more than I can say for the Internet–still largely an advertisement-laden plaything for the rich and upper middle class. Therefore it’s no surprise to actually see the great unwashed homeless inside the library as well.
Another interesting thing about libraries is their almost naïve distance from corporate America. The famous proverb would instruct us to “neither a lender nor a borrower be,” but it seems almost perverse that libraries routinely allow people to borrow their goods at no cost, (as long as the borrower honors the two-week return or renewal agreement.) In a world where nothing is free, libraries operate on this wonderfully archaic “honor code.”
And so, when Indiana Jones takes that metal post to the floor of that library, when all of those bookshelves go tumbling down in the high school library of 3 O’Clock High, they are actions taking place on an active stage, full of hidden assumptions. Libraries are an important reminder of our shared humanity, our shared hunch that some information is worth preserving in the name of knowledge.
So go out there and hug your local librarian.
Issue 4:
Escaping Life
By
Rascal Stallion
I’ve been avoiding life at the movies since I was a very young boy. Many of my childhood memories revolve around time spent in the cinema. So, indulge me if you will, and take my hand as I stroll down memory lane, tracking my journey from boy to man using these cinematic milestones.
My absolute oldest memory of the movies comes from 1980. My parents took me to the Northpark Mall Theater, which was a local state of the art 4-screen multiplex. Our arrival was met with a gigantic line that stretched from the ticket window all the way down the hall. We were in for a long wait. Fortunately, our spot in the line was in front of a clothing store that had a live monkey in their display window. Don’t underestimate the power of a live monkey on a bored child or you’ll regret it the rest of your days.
I asked my mother what we were seeing and she told me Urban Cowboy. Ordinarily, news like this would send shudders through the very core of one’s soul. However, being 5 years old, I failed to recognize the significance of her statement. I would patiently wait in this line, completely oblivious to my impending doom at the hands of this Travolta stinker.
Eventually the line began to move and, astonishingly enough, we scored some seats near the back of the room. Only once we were safely seated within the theater did my mother reveal something to me that would only be rivaled by the shocking revelation within the movie about to start. We were not about to watch Urban Cowboy. We were about to watch The Empire Strikes Back.
My mom had been afraid that the line was so long we would not be able to get in. She worried that if she told me the truth about what we were really there to see and then failed to deliver that movie to me, my disappointment would be more than she could take.
I guess sometimes it’s ok to lie to kids.
In 1982, I went to see ET: The Extra Terrestrial. I don’t remember anything about the movie itself, only the events that transpired immediately afterward. Evidently I was a sensitive 7 year old and ET’s bittersweet journey through our world brought me to tears.
My grandpa, a burly ex-Navy man, immediately began to make fun of me. “ARE YOU CRYING BOY? WHAT’S WRONG WITH YOU?” he bellowed out for the rest of the theater to hear. In my shame, I tried to convince him I just had something in my eye, but looking back I’m pretty sure he didn’t believe me. I’ve been told he did the same thing to me when I cried at the Fox and the Hound.
His jibing upset me at the time, but now that I’m an adult I, too, enjoy taunting teary-eyed kids. Evidently we are doomed to repeat the crimes perpetrated against us in our youth.
1984 had a couple of memorable moments for me. For my birthday, my parents took me to see Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom. We arrived at the theater to find it surrounded by police investigating a robbery. (side note- who robs a theater, anyway? Was some enterprising thief looking to score a small amount of cash, along with a case of Raisinettes and a personal copy of Gremlins?)
We waited outside for what seemed like hours before finally being allowed in. The agony of waiting was compounded by the fact that I had just received the GI Joe Headquarters playset as well as the figure “Roadblock” and I was understandably very anxious to go home and play. At least the movie ended up being pretty good.
Another time that year, I found myself alone at the movies. (Unable to agree on what film to see, my parents would often go see one and I would see another and we would meet up afterward.) I bought some nachos and a Cherry Coke from the snack bar and settled in to watch The Neverending Story. Somewhere in the course of the movie, a pointy piece of chip found its way into a soft spot in my gums most recently occupied by a molar. I sat alone in the dark for the duration of the movie, quietly tonguing the grand canyon sized hole that bastard chip left in my mouth.
One special day in 1985, my dad took the day off work and we went to see Rocky IV together. Being the middle of the afternoon, the theater was pretty empty. That didn’t stop those of us that were there from cheering together as Rocky showed us all that if I can change and you can change then we can all change. I believe the cold war ended that very day.
I knew my childhood was drawing to a close in 1986 when Transformers: The Movie was released. As a boy I loved the transformers and I so very badly wanted to see this movie. Unfortunately, I was in 6th grade now and my friends and I had begun to put our toys away. We now pursued more mature hobbies like collecting Garbage Pail Kids and playing games on the Commodore 64. I never did get to see Transformers: the Movie and regretted it for years. Now I own the DVD.
1986 may have hinted at the end of childhood but 1988 put all speculation to rest. My childish ways were now behind me, as chronicled by the following movie experiences.
The year started off innocently enough. For my birthday movie that year I got to choose between Funny Farm, starring Chevy Chase and Big, with Tom Hanks. As a portent of my impeccably good taste I chose Funny Farm because it clearly showed the most potential to be funny and really looked to be the higher quality film of the two. (To be fair, Chase’s work to that point included Caddyshack, Vacation and Fletch while Hanks’ movies were definitely more hit and miss.)
Later that year I went on my first date. I took this hot babe from my bowling team to Godfather’s Pizza and then to see Waxwork. Well, actually, her parents drove us to those places and picked us up, but you know what I mean. At that age I was not the ultrasmoove ladies man you see today. In fact, I was way more terrified of the girl on my left than the movie’s feeble attempts at scares.
Fortunately, my date did not suffer from the same confidence issues I was crumbling under and took matters into her own hands. She waited until an appropriately “scary” moment and then grabbed me with fright. I spent the rest of the movie holding her hand (although I was so busy worrying about my sweaty palm to even enjoy that.)
The final straw came the night my friend and I went to see Nightmare on Elm Street 4: The Dream Master. Neither our parents nor the theater wanted us to see Freddy so we bought tickets for U2’s Rattle and Hum and then snuck in to see Nightmare.
After our movie ended we still had a half an hour or so to wait until his parents would be there to pick us up. My buddy, clearly the brains of the outfit, got the bright idea to use the wire cutters he happened to have in his pocket to go clip hood ornaments off of cars. I didn’t really want any part of it but I sure didn’t want to be a chicken, either. The only compromise was for me to be the lookout. I stood about 20 feet away from him and made sure the coast was clear. In hindsight, this was a bad bit of casting for me as we were promptly arrested by an off-duty policeman and charged with theft.
I didn’t realize it at the time, but as those handcuffs locked around my wrists they severed any remaining pieces of childhood I had clung to. I wasn’t yet an adult, but I surely would never be a boy again.
Issue 4:
Life in Space
By
Mr. Atoz, The Librarian
Amok Time
Rating: “Jim!“
Synopsis:
Dr. McCoy reports to Kirk that Spock is acting rather strangely, appearing to be nervous and illogical. Spock, after having thrown a bowl of soup at Nurse Chapel, asks the captain for his leave time. Spock asks to be taken to Vulcan and Kirk reluctantly agrees. However, after receiving Starfleet orders to rendezvous for an inauguration ceremony in the Altair system earlier than scheduled, Kirk is forced to delay the trip to Vulcan. After ordering a physical examination of Spock, Kirk receives news from Bones that unless Spock goes to Vulcan he will die. But Spock will not reveal the reason. All Bones can find out is Spock’s body functions are fatally imbalanced.
Kirk then orders Spock to divulge why his life is in danger. Reluctantly, Spock explains to his captain that he is going through the period known as Pon Fa’ar, the time of Vulcan mating. He says he must go back to Vulcan to find his designated mate, T’Pring. Disobeying Starfleet orders, Kirk, McCoy and Spock arrive on Vulcan to partake in the “marriage” ritual. They meet with T’Pau, the only Vulcan to have ever turned down a seat in the Federation, who will be officiating the ceremony. As Spock is about to bang the gong that will cause the ritual to proceed, T’Pring stops him and wants the challenge, which the Vulcan female is entitled to. She may, in fact, choose a champion to fight her designated mate for her hand.
As luck would have it, T’Pring chooses Kirk as her champion.
The challenge, as Kirk fails to realize, is a duel to the death. In a horrible state of “blood fever,” Spock pleads with T’Pau to not allow T’Pring to choose Kirk as her champion, but T’Pau refuses. The two proceed to duel to the death, with Spock seemingly killing Kirk. Spock refuses T’Pring’s hand (she wanted Ston, another Vulcan, anyway) as he realizes the challenge was her way of getting Ston as her mate. Back on the Enterprise, Kirk is really not dead. Dr. McCoy gave him a neural sterilizer to make him appear to be dead.
This episode is held as a TOS best, but I think I may like it for reasons separate from the documented accolades. Sure, delving into the Vulcan culture and biology is extremely interesting, but this episode is engaging because it shows just how human Spock’s human half really is. It is also great for what the series as a whole is great for: unintentional comedy. My favorite moment of this episode is when Spock is playing his harp or “Vulcan lute” or whatever that peculiar instrument is that sounds like a street organ when you try to tune it. Uhura pages him over the intercom, and Spock, in his primal, boner-otic state, proceeds to march over to the communicator and bash it in, bellowing, “Leave me aloooone….leave ME ALOOOOONE!!” Comedic value in the scene rises even further when you see that that the communicator is made of some sort of cheap vinyl in a moment of special effects hijinx reminiscent of the shark scene in “Batman: The Movie.”If you can get past that, and Chekov’s hair, then you can fully see the episode for everything it is worth. Later in the show, Spock and Kirk proceed to fight with what can only be described as some sort of Vulcan lasso-belt. As Kirk is distracted, his feet are lassoed by Spock and he is tripped up and dragged. It’s a laugh-out-loud moment that is very typical of TOS fight scenes. Hopefully that, along with reflections from Jim Carrey’s
The Cable Guy, will not prevent you from viewing the scene in earnest.
I love the closing line after T’Pau tells Spock to live long and prosper after “the mess has been cleaned up.” Spock retorts, “I shall do neither. I have killed my captain, and my friend.” It is quite possibly the most profound line in any TOS episode. It just demonstrates how Spock, in all his cold logic, loves and cares for his human friends. Love and care is a human trait. Spock desires desperately to switch off his emotions, but his human “biology”, (ironically the reference point of the plot), will not allow him to disregard his grief. Nor will it allow him to disregard his joy at seeing his friend alive on the Enterprise: (”JIM!!!”)
Issue 4:
Spotlight on Technology
By
Dr. Roger Korby
What is DRM?
A quick and dirty definition of Digital Rights Management (DRM) would be: software that limits what a person can do with content files. One place you can find DRM is in music files bought online from stores such as the iTunes Music Store. The companies that own the content you are purchasing (record labels in the case of iTunes music files) are very concerned about piracy. They use DRM to limit the number of computers and devices you can play their files on (read: you can not just send copies of DRMed files to all your friends and expect them to work). To simplify things, I will be referring to DRMed music in this article, but the same arguments could be applied to any other type of file (movies, books, etc.)
What is the problem with DRM?
I see three main problems with DRM: 1) it sucks for the consumer 2) ultimately, it doesn’t work and 3) it breaks fair use.
DRM sucks for the consumer
My favorite quote about DRM comes from Cory Doctorow (author of Down and Out in the Magic Kingdom and previous spokesperson for the Electronic Frontier Foundation.) He says, “No customer wants DRM. No one woke up this morning and said, ‘Damn, I wish there was a way to do less with my books, movies and music.’” This is exactly what you get when you are dealing with DRM. There are no benefits for the user and, for those who do not realize what they are getting into, potentially a lot of pain.
When you buy a DRMed music file, you are agreeing to let the music industry decide how many and on which kinds of devices you can use that file. One of the greatest things about digital music is that you can easily change the format the music is in or do other cool things to the files (such as apply filters to change the sound). When music was analog (such as on vinyl and tape) everything worked in real time. It would take a while to make copies. DRM takes our cool technology and tries to turn back the clock on it.
Even on authorized computers DRM can show some annoying side effects. I used to use Napster’s subscription service (which used DRMed WMA files), and there was a noticeable delay before the songs would start playing as Napster checked with the server to make sure I was allowed to use the file. This quickly became very irritating.
DRM ultimately does not work
My main argument against DRM has always been that when I buy a CD I can get the music off of this CD into an open, non-DRMed file very easily. The RIAA has made several attempts to “lock down” the music on audio CDs but none of these attempts has been very successful. Mostly they depend on Window’s Autoplay feature to keep people from ripping music off CDs but you can turn off Autoplay or easily bypass it by simply holding down the shift key while putting the CD in the computer. Last year Sony tried to introduce a new way of locking down CDs, but it was an even more miserable failure than the Autoplay approach. Sony included a “rootkit” in some of their CDs. A rootkit is basically a program that installs itself deep down in Windows and is virtually invisible to the user, even to computer-savvy users. There are not a lot of good, legitimate uses for a rootkit. In Sony’s case it was a rootkit installed by a third party on an innocent and oblivious home user’s computer, which is just downright shady.
Once a rootkit is installed, you can do all kinds of cool/evil things, like monitor computer activity without the user’s knowledge or permission. Sony was going to use this rootkit to keep people from ripping songs into iTunes. Their rootkit turned out to be really easy to exploit, so anyone who had listened to one of these Sony CD’s on a computer had a gaping security hole in their system. When news of this rootkit hit the internets all hell broke loose. Sony ate it big time and eventually replaced the CD’s with non-rootkit versions and even went so far as to send out plain old MP3’s of the music to those that bought the rootkit CDs.
I subscribe to Yahoo Music Unlimited (YMU). It’s similar to iTunes, but instead of “buying” songs, you pay a monthly fee and have download access to a ton of songs. It costs around $7 a month. You can play them on your PC and on a few supported devices (notably excluding Apple’s iPod). As an aside… I find it really interesting that for all the lawsuits and noise the RIAA makes, through these subscription services they reveal to the world that all they want out of each of us is $7 a month. I used to buy 2-3 CD’s a month. That’s easily $20-30 a month. Now I only buy the occasional album that is not on YMU or albums that I really like a lot and want in uncompressed quality and the RIAA ends up getting a lot less money from me.
Back to how DRM does not work. There are some really easy ways to convert Yahoo’s DRM music into unprotected mp3’s. The key to this is that as long as the RIAA lets us actually hear the music with our ears, there is a way to unprotect the file. There are some programs available for around $20 that will take DRMed WMAs and spit out MP3’s. The way they work is pretty much the modern equivalent of holding a mic up to your friend’s stereo to record your friend’s music. These convert the songs in real time (a 5 minute song takes 5 minutes to convert) so it’s not the most efficient approach, but it works. One program uses some special tricks to play up to 5 songs at a time on “virtual soundcards”, thus taking 1/5 the time to process all the songs.
DRM breaks fair use
I haven’t gone to the trouble of actually researching the legalese regarding “fair use”, but it seems pretty straightforward that if you buy a product you should be able to do what you want with that product in your own home as long as you are not hurting anyone or making a copy of that product to give to other people. If I buy a CD, I should be able to (guilt-free) convert it to MP3’s to play on my iPod. If I legally have access to a file (be it a song, movie, or book), I should be able to use it on any device I want. DRMed files work only on the devices approved by the industry, which would not equate to “fair use.”
I do not have any solutions for the problem of DRM. I wonder what would really happen if Apple convinced the RIAA to let them sell music as unprotected MP3s. Would their sales drop off? Would people start rampantly sharing MP3’s with their friends and stop buying music altogether? I really don’t think we would see a huge change in sales. It’s already a cinch to burn copies of music CDs (which people do all the time) and yet the music industry does not consider this their worst threat. A move to unDRMed MP3’s would surely seem crazy to a music industry executive, but I think it might just be crazy and revolutionary enough to work.
Issue 3:
Don't Bother Me, I'm Thinking
By
Medulla Vesuvius
This year, the gay cowboy movie was up for eight Academy Awards, by my hasty count. Regardless of the fact that it only took two Oscars home, (more accurately, “the people that worked on the film only took home two Oscars”), I will remember this film not for it’s social significance or for the discussion of homosexuality that it has encouraged, but for another reason– its’ ability to worm it’s way into the American humorous psyche.
Here’s the deal. I have increasingly witnessed the word “Brokeback” used for comedic effect. For instance: “Brokeback Bowling” or “Brokeback Cancer Check” or “Brokeback to the Future.” Apparently the humor potential for this compound word is off the charts. This could be the next “Just flew in from (blank) and boy are my arms tired!” or “Let me tell you the difference between black people and white people…”
I think this film should be commended, if only for its’ ability to affect the humor of culture far removed from Hollywood. It’s no easy task to embed into the joke-consciousness of average Americans. Not for a lasting time anyway. That’s why I’m really pulling for this “Brokeback” business. In twenty years, I hope that we’re still using the word “Brokeback” as a funny synonym for “gay cowboy.” That would be such a coup. Here’s why: Brokeback Mountain is a monumentally sad movie.
I’m sure I’m not ruining it for anybody when I say that one of the characters is killed for who he is and the other is left living alone in a small trailer in the middle of nowhere. You see in this movie how the forbidden desires of two people have far-reaching effects, spinning off into the lives of other people–wives, families, kids. There are no free choices, no choices without dire consequences. This is a movie full of dread building up over what is supposed to be years. And that’s probably why it’s obviously respected amongst the motion picture tastemakers like The Academy and critics.
But those kinds of “artistic” or “dramatic” movies aren’t supposed to influence the national humorscape. That’s supposed to be the job of comedies, especially those made by Mike Myers. Think of all of the funny catchphrases that have come about from the Austin Powers series: “Do I make you horny baby?” “Someone throw me a frickin’ bone here!” “Yeah, baby, Yeah!” And let us not forget Wayne’s World: “NOT!” “We’re not worthy!” “Schwing!”
Let’s try a little experiment: “Schindler’s Bowling.” “Million Dollar Cancer Check.” No, the humor’s just not there like it is with “Brokeback.” But Schindler’s List is monumentally sad, too. It’s got a much higher senseless body count, both on-screen and as a sub-text. It’s a Best Picture winner, just like Million Dollar Baby. These are respected movies, just like Brokeback Mountain. Why aren’t they funny to us? What’s the difference?
Gay people.
They’re just funny to us for some reason, even if in an uncomfortable way, to a certain strand of people. You want to talk about a “million dollar baby”, place a swishy gay male character in your movie and hilarity is bound to ensue, right? But, strangely, The Birdcage, which is full of homosexual characters, didn’t even make a blip on the humor radar screen. Neither did To Wong Foo…Thanks for Everything, Julie Newmar. Neither did Dwight Ewell’s performance as Hooper X in Chasing Amy, surprisingly. These are comedies with gay characters that you never hear about. No one goes around talking about how someone is “soo Hooper.”
But this “Brokeback” is something else entirely. What makes these brooding, gay cowboys so well suited for humor? Maybe I just answered my own question: gay cowboys.
Until now, the cowboy has been an archetype of rugged, stoic, manliness in the American unconscious. The Duke. Eastwood. These were individualist characters that were too busy kicking butt and setting the world to right to fool around with love and “feelings.” The idea of a cowboy in love with anybody, much less someone of his own sex, was kind of hard to swallow. Maybe the comedy we derive from gay cowboys is a kind of nervous laughter resulting from messing around with the assumptions of the masses. Until now, the idea of a homosexual cowboy has been an oxymoron, a combination of mutually exclusive terms. Faced with such a contradiction, the human mind can either break down into madness or laugh at the absurdity.
And so Brokeback Mountain has inspired us to laugh.
Addendum: Woe unto Douglas McCombs, the creative force behind Thrill Jockey Records band Brokeback. Even though he’s been making beautiful albums under that name since 1997, he is certainly facing an uphill struggle if he wants to carry on with his career since his band name has become a joke. Sorry, Douglas. Maybe I Wish I Knew How to Quit You is still open for a band name.
Subscribe to Nerd City
Comments Off