by Catriona Mills

Strange Conversations: Part Ninety-Eight

Posted 8 March 2009 in by Catriona

After looking at one of those “the BBC says most people have only read six of these books” lists that are circulating on Facebook:

ME: And they’re really problematic lists.
NICK: How so?
ME: Well, they have “the complete works of Shakespeare” as one entry and Hamlet as another. Why?
NICK: Weird.
ME: I mean, I’ve only read forty-five of the hundred books on the list, but some of them I’m never going to read. Five People You Meet In Heaven? And the bloody Da Vinci Code?
NICK: Yeah, no.
ME: I may not have read The Da Vinci Code, but I have no qualms about how I have chosen to exercise my literacy.
NICK: Me, neither. And I only read books with spaceships in them.

Strange Conversations: Part Ninety-Seven

Posted 7 March 2009 in by Catriona

I am shouting at the West Wing before and after this conversation, but I’ll spare you those bits.

ME: We should watch Dule Hill’s new show.
NICK: Yes, I hear it’s supposed to be good.
ME: Nick, I told you that. I told you it was supposed to be good.
NICK: Treen, that’s just how my brain works. Information is filed away; it isn’t attached to a citation.
ME: Well, it’s a good thing you didn’t finish your Ph.D., then.
NICK: Yes, it is.

Strange Conversations: Part Ninety-Six

Posted 7 March 2009 in by Catriona

ME: Honey, why is there a wok on the footstool in the living room?
NICK: Well, I couldn’t find the container.
ME (pointing six inches to his left): It’s right there.
NICK: Well, I know that now.
ME: So why is there a wok on the footstool in the living room?
NICK: Well, I saw the container as I was heading out of the room.
ME: But why is there a wok on the footstool in the living room?
NICK: Treena, we’re never going to have a conversation on this topic that ends in a satisfactory manner.
ME: Really?
NICK: Not satisfactory to you, anyway.

Strange Conversations: Part Ninety-Five

Posted 7 March 2009 in by Catriona

While planning dinner:

NICK: It’s really saturated fat that’s the problem.
ME: No, you said we couldn’t eat any fat at all, or we’d die.
NICK: It’s like there’s this whole parallel world where we actually have these conversations.
ME: Yes. In my head.
NICK: I’m glad you finally admit that.
ME: That doesn’t mean it’s not real!
NICK: I think you’ll find that’s pretty much the definition of “not real.”
ME: No, it’s not—Dumbledore said so.
NICK: But he’s not real, either.
(Pause)
ME: There has to be a way for me to get out of this conversation.
NICK: There isn’t. But I’ll try not to gloat too much, even though I hardly ever win arguments.
ME: You didn’t win this one. I just decided to stop participating.
NICK: No! You can’t log out of the game!

I Think I'm Being Emotionally Blackmailed By My Computer Game

Posted 7 March 2009 in by Catriona

The game, you see, has a splash screen by which you navigate to one of the several different play modes or out of the game altogether.

On the basic splash screen, you see this:

Slightly freaky, perhaps—especially to those of us who don’t really trust unicorns any more than we trust dolphins, and we don’t trust dolphins at all, because, really, who could trust marine mammals that not only have a strong propensity, apparently, for flying through highly coloured space scenes in which planets are often in dangerously close proximity to one another, but also appear to have callously sold the rights to their image to the makers of just some of the most disturbing home furnishings ever, including dolphin lamps and dolphin kitchenware.

But essentially benign, right?

But when you hit the “quit” button, you get this:

The big sad eyes!

The solitary tear drop!

Is it wrong for the game to work by telling me that if I quit, I’ll make a mythical creature cry?

There Will Be No Update Today

Posted 6 March 2009 in by Catriona

Because I’ve spent most of the afternoon—since I’m a casually employed lecturer who can, to a very real extent, pick her own working hours—reading Watchmen so I can finish it before seeing the film on Sunday.

And now I’m too traumatised to do anything else.

And I’m only halfway through.

I need a drink.

And then I really need to read more of Watchmen.

Rain. Streetlight. Frangipani.

Posted 4 March 2009 in by Catriona

Strange Conversations: Part Ninety-Four

Posted 4 March 2009 in by Catriona

Always the subtleties of musical genres and movements escape me:

ME: This is horrible!
NICK: What?
ME: This! It’s incomprehensible thrashy guitar and a completely inaudible vocal track!
NICK: Treen, it is My Bloody Valentine. They’re the original shoegazer band.
ME: That is a total lie!
NICK: It is not!
ME: You look me in the eye, and tell me that that band whose name I’ve forgotten—Joy Division! That they weren’t the original shoegazer band.
NICK: They weren’t.
ME: He stared at his shoes all the time!
NICK: But they weren’t shoegazer.

Bracebridge Hemyng Was A Doctor Who Villain

Posted 4 March 2009 in by Catriona

Apparently.

I was rummaging through Wikipedia earlier this afternoon, as you do.

Actually, I was looking for the name of the actor who played John Lumic, so that I could appear omniscient in a comment thread. As you do.

And I found that Lumic is one of many in a list of minor Doctor Who villains. Some way below him is this man:

The Master of the Land of Fiction was a human writer from the year 1926 who was drawn to the Land of Fiction and forced to continuously write stories which were enacted within that realm. The Master’s name was never revealed, but he did identify himself as the writer of “The Adventures of Captain Jack Harkaway” in The Ensign, a magazine for boys. He was freed by the Second Doctor, and returned to his own time.

I don’t know about “Captain” Jack Harkaway, but Jack Harkaway—schoolboy adventurer, all-round sterling example of the late-nineteenth-century pioneering (and occasionally violent, especially if you’re foreign or you make a pass at Jack’s girlfriend) English spirit, and proposed member of an early League of Extraordinary Gentlemen—was the most successful creation of hack writer Bracebridge Hemyng. Of course, Bracebridge Hemyng died in 1901, but then Doctor Who is a show about time travel.

Hemyng doesn’t get his own Wikipedia page, which is a kind of cultural oblivion compared to which the journey to that bourne from whence no traveller returns is a walk in the park.

He does turn up on the Wikipedia page for Henry Mayhew’s London Labour and the London Poor, for which he undertook some of the interviews.

But he does have his own page on the truly fabulous Albert Johannsen’s truly fabulous The House of Beadle and Adams and Its Dime and Nickel Novels: The Story of A Vanished Literature. (And if you ever need to know anything about American dime-novel writers or—given the networks of exchange between and the piratical publishing practices of the two countries—English penny-weekly writers, go straight to Northern Illinois University Libraries’ excellent online version of Johannsen’s book.)

And he also wrote some serials for Bow Bells, which is how I came across his name originally, when I was indexing the contents of that journal.

And he once “tried to lure the Second Doctor into becoming his replacement as the controller for the “Master Brain Computer”, the controlling force behind the Land of Fiction.”

Now that is something that he should add to his curriculum vitae.

Live-blogging Doctor Who, Season Two: Rise of the Cybermen

Posted 3 March 2009 in by Catriona

This live-blogging brought to you by the fact that I have new armchairs: they’re 1940s’ club-style, and I’m finding myself a little constricted by the arms—I keep mistyping things.

Actually, I don’t think I can live-blog in this chair. I can’t move my arms sufficiently.

This live-blogging brought to you by the fact that I’ve been sensible and moved to the Tibetan coffee table, my usual live-blogging position, and can now move my arms again.

Whoops, it started while I wasn’t looking.

Now, apparently, the “prototype” is “working”—but a man I’m going to call Owen until I get another name says “prototype” is the wrong word, as it implies a machine. The scientist, Dr Kendrick, apologises: “I should have said: it’s alive!”

And the Frankenstein analogy starts already.

Now Owen, now known as John Lumic, has his new creature—strangely Cyberman shaped—kill Dr Kendricks, who wants the creature ratified by the Geneva convention—Geneva convention? That doesn’t sound right—as a new form of life, and sets sail for Great Britain.

Credits.

Now the Doctor and Rose are roaring over shared experiences, and Mickey feels terribly left out, especially since the Doctor seems to be subjecting him to some kind of hazing—or forgetting him, Mickey says.

The Doctor says, no: “I know exactly what I’m doing.”

And, of course, the TARDIS console room blows up at that point. And oxygen masks drop from the ceiling, as the Doctor says the TARDIS is dead.

The TARDIS can’t be dead!

Nick says this is the first episode directed by Graeme Harper since “Revelation of the Daleks” in 1985.

The Doctor is ranting about how they fell out of the Vortex into some kind of “no-time,” but Mickey points out that they’re in London.

It’s not our London, despite the similarity of the dates. There are zeppelins. So they’re in a Jasper Fforde novel?

And Rose’s dad is alive. She sees him on a talking billboard, and Rose is, unsurprisingly, freaked out by this, but the Doctor says she can never see him, that he’s not her dad, he might have his own Rose and Jackie.

He certainly has much money, judging from the house and car. And he does have his own Jackie, though she’s much more of a shrew than the original Jackie—this one is annoyed that Pete has arranged her 40th birthday, when she’s “officially” thirty-nine. She’s also incredibly materialistic.

She draws attention to the fact that everyone is wearing earbuds: hers were a gift from John Lumic, which can’t be a good thing.

Meanwhile, Jackie has been calling “Rose! Rose!”—but Rose is in fact a Yorkshire terrier. I am partial to Yorkies, I admit.

Lumic is clearly not a well man, but that doesn’t justify his over-riding of Jackie’s earbuds, which causes a strangely Cybermannish arrangement to come out of her head, allowing him to download the security arrangements for Jackie’s party.

Lumic needs “extra staff”—and he appeals to a member of his staff who I’m fairly sure is called “Mr Crane,” who says he’s going on a “recruitment drive.”

Meanwhile, Rose has wandered off, and the Doctor is more than a little annoyed by this. Sitting on a bench by the Thames, Rose discovers that she has access to a mobile-phone network.

Torchwood reference! Drink!

The Doctor is trying to explain to Mickey why, comic books notwithstanding, you can no longer flip blithely between universes: once you could, but the Time Lords took that knowledge with them when they died.

Call back to “The Invasion,” one of the last Cyberman stories of the Patrick Troughton era, with the International Electromatics truck that Mr Crane uses to abduct a group of homeless men, except for one canny man who appears to be Brummie. He has an ugly accent, anyway.

Meanwhile, the Doctor finds one insignificant power cell that is clinging to life—he can’t charge it up, because he needs energy from his own universe: he breathes on it, and manically explains that “I just gave away ten years of my life! Worth every second!”

They’ll be able to return home in twenty-four hours.

The Doctor and Mickey find Rose, who is freaking out about the fact that her dad still married her mother, but she was never born. She wants to see them, and the Doctor is objecting—he appeals to Mickey to help him, but Mickey has his own things to take care of. The Doctor is trapped between his two companions, but Mickey tells him to go: “You can only chase after one of us. It’s never going to be me.”

Sure enough, the Doctor runs after Rose, and tells Mickey to be back in twenty-four hours.

MICKEY: Sure thing. If I haven’t found anything better.

Meanwhile, Pete and the British Prime Minister [President] are waiting for John Lumic at the airport, chatting about the state of the world. Lumic clearly has more influence than we’ve been given to understand.

Mickey, heading off somewhere, sees a soldier, who tells him he’s safe to pass: “The curfew doesn’t start ‘til ten”—and asks Mickey whether he’s been living up with the toffs in the zeppelins.

Somewhere else, Rose is telling the Doctor that Mickey’s mother couldn’t cope, his father only stuck around for a short while, and he was raised by his grandmother—ROSE: “She was such a great woman. She used to slap him . . .”—until she died in a fall down the stairs.

The Doctor feels quite guilty, until he’s distracted by everyone falling silent to listen simultaneously to “the daily download, published by Cybus Industries.” The bit where everyone laughs simultaneously at a joke we don’t hear is incredibly creepy.

When the Doctor realises that Cybus Industries owns Pete Tyler’s company, he agrees to go and see Rose’s alterna-parents.

Mickey, meanwhile, has reconnected with his grandmother, who is surprised to see her grandson, Rickey. She’s been worried that something terrible has happened to him. And the scene where he sees that the stair carpet is still rucked up at one corner, so his grandmother could trip on it, is devastating.

While they’re chatting, Mickey is grabbed off the street by people who are clearly friends of Rickey’s—Rickey, apparently, is “London’s most wanted.”

Meanwhile, Lumic’s voice over a recording—while Lumic himself is breathing through a respirator—is explaining to the Prime Minister [President] and Pete about the fact that he is saving the human brain, by preserving it in “a cradle of copyrighted chemicals.” Lumic needs permission to carry out his research, but the Prime Minister says it is not only unethical, it is obscene. He doesn’t even listen to the entire presentation before leaving.

Lumic doesn’t seem too fazed, though: he talks to Mr Crane, and Mr Crane shows how he has grafted earbuds onto the homeless men whom he earlier tricked into his van with the offer of free food.

Mr Crane finds it “irresistible” to use the earbudded men as toys, making them turn left, turn right, etc. But Lumic wants the men “upgraded”—Mr Crane sends them into a factory and when the sounds of screams filter out, asks a lackey to “cover up that noise.” “The Lion Sleeps Tonight” starts up.

Mickey and his new friends arrive at one of their hideouts, but Rickey is already there.

Meanwhile, Rose and the Doctor are crashing Jackie’s birthday party as waiters. Rose is not impressed, since she though the psychic paper could have done better, but the Doctor thinks there in a better position to hear gossip.

Rose is incredibly jealous of someone she’s never met called Lucy. I’m sorry, Drew, but that was clearly jealousy.

Damn, now I have to go and replace the words “Prime Minister” with the word “President.” I thought they’d said “President,” but I was distracted. Oh, well—maybe I’ll get around to that later.

Rose is not impressed to hear that she is now a Yorkie, but I can’t blame her for that. The Doctor, on the other hand, finds it hilarious.

Mr Crane is “mobile,” while Lumic is “arriving.” Is that deliberately obscure?

Mickey has been stripped to his knickers, but they’re confused by the fact that he’s human—and identical to Rickey.

RICKEY OFFSIDER: Well, it could be that Cybus Industries has perfected human cloning. Or, perhaps your dad had a bike?

Rickey points out that they aren’t wearing earbuds: they’re independent of Lumic’s network.

They know Lumic is on the move, and they’re following him. They’re armed, too—so they have some suspicion of what’s going on.

The Doctor, passing a partly open door, sees a computer, and can’t help his sticky-beaking. Rose is gobsmacked at seeing her mum again, while Pete is remembering Jackie’s twenty-first birthday: “A pint of cider down the George the Fourth.”

There was a pub in Picton called the George the Fourth—used to brew its own German beer. Not such a god pub now, though I feel guilty saying so.

Rose is chatting to Pete, who says he moved out last month. She doesn’t want her parents to split, but Pete suddenly realises he doesn’t know why he’s saying these things to a waitress.

And that’s the first sight of the Cybermen. Spoiler! Feet stomping down a gangplank.

Meanwhile, Rose is chatting to her mother outside.

Bugger, my Internet connection has gone flaky. I’ll finish this in one hit, then try and upload the rest.

Rose tries to chat to her mother about the dissolution of her marriage, but Jackie is—and I’m rather with her on this, though she is grotesquely classist in her expression—entirely unimpressed.

The Cybermen burst into the Tylers’ party, and Lumic tells the President that these are his children. Both the Doctor and the President know that these were once real people, and both are horrified.

The Cybermen claim to be “Human.2,” which sounds better than it types.

The Cybermen claim that every human will receive a free, compulsory upgrade, and if you refuse, you are deemed “incompatible” and promptly deleted. The President is deleted, but the Cybermen seem to be deleting everyone who runs away from them, which is bound to have a negative effect on their eventual numbers.

Pete, Rose, and the Doctor get out of the house, but Jackie is hiding in the basement, and a Cyberman is coming down the steps.

Rickey and the Brummie come running up, firing—but the five of them are surrounded by Cybermen now. The Doctor surrenders, thinking that this will stop the Cybermen from deleting them. The Cybermen says no: they are a rogue element, inferior, and they will perish under maximum deletion.

Cliffhanger!

Strange Conversations: Part Ninety-Three

Posted 3 March 2009 in by Catriona

A Packrat/laptop-with-a-scroll-pad related strange conversation:

ME: Bugger!
NICK: What?
ME: I just bought a sodding parrot!
NICK (slightly different intonation): What?
ME: I was just trying to scroll down the page and I accidentally bought a bloody parrot! Now what do I do?
NICK: You just . . .
(Long pause)
ME: Yes?
NICK: You just got to keep it real.
(Longer pause)
NICK: I have no idea what that means. Sorry.

It cost me one hundred credits, too.

And, five minutes later:

ME: I mean, a bloody parrot! I don’t need a parrot. I’ve already finished that set.
NICK: It happens, Treen. You just need to deal with it.
ME: I have never accidentally bought a parrot before.
NICK: Really?

Usual Reminder

Posted 3 March 2009 in by Catriona

Live-blogging Doctor Who tonight at 8.30 pm, Brisbane time.

In the meantime, here’s a link to Defamer’s YouTube Clip of the Day.

I don’t normally watch them, but this one combines Adolf Hitler and grammar, and made me laugh so hard I hurt myself.

It was absolutely worth it.

Sunset

Posted 2 March 2009 in by Catriona

Strange Conversations: Part Ninety-Two

Posted 1 March 2009 in by Catriona

Seeking shelter from the 36-degree heat at the shopping centre:

ME: On a scale of one to ten, how bad does my hair look? Because I can’t be bothered redressing it.
NICK: Lower is better, right?
ME: Yes. Ten would be the worst.
NICK: I’d say . . . three.
ME: Three?!
NICK: What?
ME: Why can’t you just say “one”?
NICK: You’ve got to stop asking me these things.

Categories

Blogroll

Recent comments

Monthly Archive

2012
January
February
March
April
May
June
July
August
September
October
2011
January
February
March
April
May
June
July
August
August
October
November
December
2010
January
February
March
April
May
June
July
August
September
October
October
December
2009
January
February
February
April
May
June
July
August
September
October
November
December
2008
February
March
April
May
June
July
August
September
October
November
December