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Tom Gordon's Blother

February 21, 2007

Irreconcilable Indifference
Well, no new Photoshop greasy-paintery glistenings, as of yet. It would seem that desperate/nervous "let's kick off 2007 with a bang" creative energy which fueled yours truly last month has been damped out, thanks in no small part to the recent calvacade of Unspecified Health Woes (this week's indignity: a head-stuck-in-a-vise, forcible-lung-inversion variant of the common cold, creating minor mountain ranges of wadded tissue paper everywhere -- whine, gripe, kvetch). But I'm still sketchbook-drawing, which is marginally better than (or equivalent to) nothing:



(Do you actually need a fanbase to indulge in 'fan service', though? So many questions...)

Also stopped by that aforementioned RPG/hobby shop the other day, and managed to get my hands on a copy of one of Estes catalogs. See, as a prepubescent, I'd built a 'Big Bertha' model rocket with my father -- though for some never adequately-explained reason he always balked at installing an electrical chemical-propellant engine into the thing. Undoubtedly t'was the very high likelihood of his clueless son spending his remaining days sporting an rakish eyepatch and/or brain damage for the reluctant ladies (darn that '3 Dexterity' roll-up!)

Anyhoo, it was oddly comforting to see the company kept the quiet dignity of their product line, and largely resisted that insane push between, oh, 1989 and 2001 to take everything 2 D X-TREEM!!!!111 Oh sure, you've got balsa-wood versions of Ansari X-Prize contestants -- Burt Rutan's beholder-eyed SpaceshipOne, et al. But that's just the early 21st Century equivalent of craft NASA would've built, had the agency been more concerned with successfully lobbing metal into The Black, instead of indulging the fantasies of eco-catastrophists (who apparently never heard of Godwin's Law).

Incidentally, Estes continues to sell the Bertha. It's now clad in some faux-stealthy black pseudo-ceramic. Which almost makes about as much sense as giving Lovecraft a long-overdue makeover, by way of Fisher-Price -- but who am I to argue?

R'lyeh Action Playset sold separately

Aww! Isn't Ancient Lurking Unearthly Horror just oh so cuuute? (That color scheme should coordinate rather nicely with my Coop devil-femme sculpture, too. Yes, soon my desktop will be a veritable McDonald's Playland of Evil! Heh heh heh!)

And for all those anxiously waiting for that Great Political Smackdown -- well, forget it. The ennui-inducing futility of that enterprise hit me towards the end of last year; I'd watched some leftwerp visionary babbling on the idiot box, who was making an quite astonishing argument in support of soi-disant 'redeployment'. To wit, that "hey, well, we also abandoned South Vietnam without suffering any serious consequences, Geopolitick-ally speaking. So what's all the fuss about?" Indeed. Apparently millions of Southeast Asians butchered by communism triumphant, our defeat there subsequently emboldening Islamic fascists in Iran (whoops!), and the lingering "American self-loathing is a virtue" credo fostered daily by geriatric Boomers upon her universities and in her media never really counted at all. Yes, let's do the time warp again!

Pleh. It's like reality isn't even a consideration, any longer. What truly matters, see, is the sustainment of oh-so-fashionable contrarianism -- that somehow it's Brave and Rebellious and Revolutionary to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with medieval topplers of skyscrapers and their allies. Because, y'know, we're all Little Eichmanns toiling in the oppression machine anyway, maaan. Over and over again, I see the same tired accusations and bumper-sticker slogans being made that've already been refuted twenty times over -- as if the mere act of repeating them (with accompanying airs of sneering self-righteousness, later parroted ad nauseam by dire-voiced engines of 'mainstream journalism') will make such fantasies 'fact.' And maybe it will. Certainly worked for the Dems, last November.

At any rate, the truth is over the past six years, I've come to know the other side's present 'worldview' quite intimately -- and NO LONGER EFFING CARE. At ALL. I'm so consumed with contempt for the tortured knots of concrete-set falsehoods that led them to their present reprehensible stance -- and a stark helplessness before the monumental task of unsnarling even one percent of that tangled mass -- that pretty much anything overheard/read about Controversial Subject 'X' is now going to be summarily ignored. Just like how you'd handle the rambling speeches of any wild-eyed, unhinged subway patron: whatever.

At long last, that standard rejoinder carries some weight.

February 14, 2007

Bah, Humbug 2007
Which (as if you haven't guessed) is now my standard Scrooge-styled rejoinder to anyone making the blithe assertion "Happy Valentine's Day!" Truth be told, I can't recall a single instance of this accursed centennial that approached, in any shape or form, the light-filled realm of 'happiness'. Alas, not even during those years when yours truly was deeply in love with some gal, and ostensibly more receptive to the holiday's scarlet-hearted, chocolate-and-flowers-dispensing lunacy. And most ESPECIALLY not when the occasion was exploited by nefarious amateur match-makers in order to herd desperate-faced singles into 'mixer' pens, speed-dating and other dubious constructs. Feh.

I tells ya, what this particular twenty-four-hour batch really needs is a festive animated television special by Rankin-Bass. Perhaps something in a Greco-Roman vein, with Cupid/Eros having to meet his quota of mortal love-puncturings, or else be horribly devoured by some bug-eyed mythological beast spawned through the gods' wacky penchant for incestuous dalliances. Then, at long last, bitter misanthropes like me could still get into the romantic 'spirit of things', without bringing down all Those Who've Found And Live With Their Truest Soulmate In Eternal Peace, Love and Happiness, blah blah blah.

Oh, and on the subject of old-school Humbug! (and circular trains of thought curiously resembling a Moebius strip), here was the final version of last year's Escher-ripoff Christmas card, paired with one of my recent temporary retreats into soi-disant 'graphic design' (in this case, a logo for a fledgling jewelry company):



Yeah, yeah, I know. Obsessed with spheres, much? Of course. Also sphere-shaped objects, fleshy yummy sphere-shaped bodily protrusions, and Michael Crichton novels.
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