Who is your "us"? Everyone has an "us" and a "them." Those you associate with. Those you don't. People who are like you. People who aren't.
As humans, we label ourselves and we label others. You label yourself. You label others. We all do it. We can't help it. It starts as a convenience... a short hand so we know who we're talking about it. Us. Them. Are you a geek? A goth? A punk? A metal-head? A rapper? A jock? A preppy? A freak? A Christian? A Muslim? A Jew? An Arab? An American?
There's a million ways to separate "us" from "them." We segregate ourselves by the choices we make, the places we live, the music we listen to, the God(s) we believe in (or don't), and even the things we can't choose, like our gender or the color of our skin. We've all been many things... We take on many labels and shed them as we grow and change.
We label ourselves and we label others so we know who "we" are and we know who "they" are. We have a million different labels for who "we" are and who "they" are. We label ourselves and our nation and our family and our neighborhood and our countries and we divide, divide, divide.
We are not "that," but this. We are not "this," but that. We are not "them," but us.
How do all those labels really help us, though? The labels we apply to ourselves and others, they identify us, surely, but do they not also limit? There comes a point when we have to ask, as a species, do they confine us more than they free us? Do they segregate more than unite? They identify, but they can't help but put a barrier between people. A million little walls between us and them.
The labels let us know who to go to war with, sure. The labels let us know who has less and who has more. But a million labels haven't helped us progress toward being a more evolved, star-faring race -- which is our potential as human beings and our right as sentient creatures. The labels just make it easier to know who to hate.
The labels only make it easier to know who is different. And from grade school when the teachers asked us "Which one is different and doesn't belong," we all learned that different is somehow bad.
I just wonder if there isn't a better way.
Wednesday, August 8, 2007
Tuesday, August 7, 2007
St. Bastard Goes to Comic Con (or, How I Learned to Stop Judging and Love Mankind).
Just in case you're wondering whether or not to read this one all the way through, here are some highlights...
• The Suicide Girls rocked my socks off.
• Warren Ellis was a complete douche to me and The Captain.
• The 300 dvd release party was un-fuckin'-believable!
• Wally Wingert was hella cool.
• James Hong busted out with lines as Lo Pan from Big Trouble in Little China.
• Frank Miller loved my tattoo.
• Jon Heder was cool.
• John de Lancie, LeVar Burton and Marina Sirtis from Star Trek were not.
First off, calling the San Diego Comic Con an enormously large event doesn't quite cover it -- and with the privatizing of E3, the many non-comic geeks are forced to get their fix at Comic Con, too.
There were a record amount of attendees in San Diego's Dork Fest 2007 over the last few days -- more than 120,000 folks crowding the San Diego Convention Center this year. Glad to know it wasn't just my imagination. This thing was damn crowded this year, and if you can't imagine the smell of 120,000 unwashed nerds, count yourself lucky.
For the first time in the history of Comic Con, the event sold out on Saturday and Sunday. This means that the San Diego Convention Center was at max capacity.
This means a metric fuck-load of nerds, geeks, dweebs, droolers, furries, cosplay freaks, Star Wars fanatics, Trekkies, and other dorks I gladly call my friends and family.
As a general rule, I fucking hate people. I've never made this a secret. I can deal with them in small doses individually, but large crowds of densely-packed morons make me want to punch a baby.
So, by the end of the weekend, I was surprised when I left smiling. Maybe Catty-Cat had something to do with it...
Now it's time to revisit a topic I covered a while ago (and updated just recently) -- The Suicide Girls. I might have been less than fair with them the last time I blogged, but I have since seen the light.
I finally got to meet some of the Suicide Girls and I can tell you that I have a new place in my heart for these 100% genuinely nice girls. Everyone of them were absolute sweethearts. They were nice to everybody. And I mean everybody. Every jeering, drooling, horny old man and every gawking, staring, pimple-faced teen. And that's a lot of people, at Comic Con. I visited the booth four out of the five days and get several autographs, including the lovely Bella and Odette. Yum.
On Friday night, I got to visit the red carpet at Petco Park for the dvd release of 300. The VIP party after was incredible (free food and open bar!) and I met all sorts of people, including Paul Reubens, David Arquette, Sean Young, James Hong (fucking LO PAN, bitches!), Tyler Bates, Tom (Just call me 'Tom') Wisdom, and the one and only, the great Frank Miller -- who actually liked my tattoo!
We met up with Kevin "Attack of the Show" Pereira from G4 and Jessica "Last Name Omitted" from IGN. Great folks all the way around and fun drinking partners. Kevin's a good guy and you should watch his show. (How's that for a plug?)
They had gift bags and mini shields for more than 5,000 fans that got to watch 300 on the Jumbotron at the baseball field. We were stuck upstairs with an open bar, belly dancers and PeeWee Hermann. It's a pretty decent trade-off. From start to finish, the 300 folks were a class act all the way. (Except for the part where the Spartans had their shields on upside down.)
On Saturday I finally got in line with The Captain to meet one of my favorite authors, Warren Ellis. I was so excited to speak with him, if even for just a moment and even if it meant I had to *shudder* stand in fucking line with the masses.
Warren Ellis refused to shake my hand when offered. If you encounter him in the street, you may accost him with my blessing.
What a total let down. He was rude, refused to shake my hand (even my left when I offered that one instead) and didn't respond with anything except a terse, "What do you want signed?" What. The. Fuck? Who the fuck died and made him Britain's King of the Comic Book Assholes?
We weren't allowed to even get in line if we didn't buy something from the fucking Avatar booth, and he would only sign one non-Avatar product (as in all the Transmet comics that The Captain brought).
If he hates it so much, why doesn't he just fuck off back to the U.K. where people look at him like he's just another borderline-alcoholic gimp with bad teeth? Take some fucking Prozac or get a new manager.
Then I met Wally Wingert and all was right with the world. This man is hereby blessed, as is not to be harmed in any way.
Wally Wingert is an incredibly talented and prolific voice actor working in just about every animated movie or television show in production. A short list of his credits inlcude: Family Guy, Battlestar Galactica, Harvey Birdman: Attorney at Law, Transformers: Robots in Disguise, Garfield Gets Real, Resistance: Fall of Man, The Ant Bully, Invader ZIM, American Dad, Final Fantasy VII: Advent Children, Madagascar, Law & Order: Criminal Intent, Tony Hawk's Pro Skater, Astro Boy, Enter the Matrix, Naruto, Just Shoot Me, and the list goes on and on...
A few years ago at a previous Comic Con, he was in a panel on How To Get Into Voice Over Acting where the panel (and room) was much smaller than this years'. He was the same smiling, laughing guy as he was then, and that last time he encouraged me personally, when I met him after the panel, to pursue voice acting. After much ado, I now have an agent and a decent demo reel, and I wanted to thank him for his encouragement. He was very gracious.
This year's panel had heavyweights like Joe Alaskey, Will Ryan and Neil Ross, but they didn't talk about how to do it or how to get in to their field -- they just did impressions and then read a radio play of War of the Worlds. A little lame, but worth suffering through if it meant I could get to meet some of my heroes.
Then on the Sunday, Wally and I run into each other at Dick's Last Resort on Fifth Street and though we make eye contact, I am careful to just give a polite wave and meet the rest of my party. After he's done eating, he comes over to our table, and after introductions all around , we exchange a little small talk. The last thing he said was, "I look forward to working with you someday." What a great guy. He didn't know me from Adam, but he went out of his way to be nice and he sure as shit didn't refuse to shake my hand (I think I shook his hand three times). This guy is a prince, and I want all of the other Bastards out there to give him a wide berth -- he's been Officially Blessed by St. Bastard and as such is under my protection.
We're going to try to convince the Suicide Girls to let me interview them and Law will take the pictures. I'll keep you posted as things develop.
At the end of five days, I found myself exhausted, sick of people, and in possession of three huge bags full of free shit, including "Vote Petrelli" buttons from the Heroes booth, bags from G4, exclusive Watchmen posters, half a dozen t-shirts and a huge amount of other totally worthless swag that I will attempt to pawn off on my co-workers on Monday.
One bright note amid the hussle and bussle was an independent comic I picked up called "To The Power Against" and it's basically Buffy the Vampire Slayer for the Stephen Hawking crowd.
Funny, smart, well-drawn stuff by two ladies who hold their own in a field dominated by men. If you have the means, I highly recommend picking up their first issue and getting on this bandwagon while there's still room.
Wow. There's so much else to tell... Meeting all the folks, chilling at Lime's with Mike and the JMS crew, crashing the Marvel party at the Hyatt, the 3-D art...
Oh, and the best part!
...
No. No, that one I save just for me.
I have also hereby promised myself that I am never going back to Comic Con as a spectator. Fuck that noise. I am either going back as a Professional or not at all.
And that's the Gospel... according to St. Bastard
• The Suicide Girls rocked my socks off.
• Warren Ellis was a complete douche to me and The Captain.
• The 300 dvd release party was un-fuckin'-believable!
• Wally Wingert was hella cool.
• James Hong busted out with lines as Lo Pan from Big Trouble in Little China.
• Frank Miller loved my tattoo.
• Jon Heder was cool.
• John de Lancie, LeVar Burton and Marina Sirtis from Star Trek were not.
First off, calling the San Diego Comic Con an enormously large event doesn't quite cover it -- and with the privatizing of E3, the many non-comic geeks are forced to get their fix at Comic Con, too.
There were a record amount of attendees in San Diego's Dork Fest 2007 over the last few days -- more than 120,000 folks crowding the San Diego Convention Center this year. Glad to know it wasn't just my imagination. This thing was damn crowded this year, and if you can't imagine the smell of 120,000 unwashed nerds, count yourself lucky.
For the first time in the history of Comic Con, the event sold out on Saturday and Sunday. This means that the San Diego Convention Center was at max capacity.
This means a metric fuck-load of nerds, geeks, dweebs, droolers, furries, cosplay freaks, Star Wars fanatics, Trekkies, and other dorks I gladly call my friends and family.
As a general rule, I fucking hate people. I've never made this a secret. I can deal with them in small doses individually, but large crowds of densely-packed morons make me want to punch a baby.
So, by the end of the weekend, I was surprised when I left smiling. Maybe Catty-Cat had something to do with it...
Now it's time to revisit a topic I covered a while ago (and updated just recently) -- The Suicide Girls. I might have been less than fair with them the last time I blogged, but I have since seen the light.
I finally got to meet some of the Suicide Girls and I can tell you that I have a new place in my heart for these 100% genuinely nice girls. Everyone of them were absolute sweethearts. They were nice to everybody. And I mean everybody. Every jeering, drooling, horny old man and every gawking, staring, pimple-faced teen. And that's a lot of people, at Comic Con. I visited the booth four out of the five days and get several autographs, including the lovely Bella and Odette. Yum.
On Friday night, I got to visit the red carpet at Petco Park for the dvd release of 300. The VIP party after was incredible (free food and open bar!) and I met all sorts of people, including Paul Reubens, David Arquette, Sean Young, James Hong (fucking LO PAN, bitches!), Tyler Bates, Tom (Just call me 'Tom') Wisdom, and the one and only, the great Frank Miller -- who actually liked my tattoo!
We met up with Kevin "Attack of the Show" Pereira from G4 and Jessica "Last Name Omitted" from IGN. Great folks all the way around and fun drinking partners. Kevin's a good guy and you should watch his show. (How's that for a plug?)
They had gift bags and mini shields for more than 5,000 fans that got to watch 300 on the Jumbotron at the baseball field. We were stuck upstairs with an open bar, belly dancers and PeeWee Hermann. It's a pretty decent trade-off. From start to finish, the 300 folks were a class act all the way. (Except for the part where the Spartans had their shields on upside down.)
On Saturday I finally got in line with The Captain to meet one of my favorite authors, Warren Ellis. I was so excited to speak with him, if even for just a moment and even if it meant I had to *shudder* stand in fucking line with the masses.
Warren Ellis refused to shake my hand when offered. If you encounter him in the street, you may accost him with my blessing.
What a total let down. He was rude, refused to shake my hand (even my left when I offered that one instead) and didn't respond with anything except a terse, "What do you want signed?" What. The. Fuck? Who the fuck died and made him Britain's King of the Comic Book Assholes?
We weren't allowed to even get in line if we didn't buy something from the fucking Avatar booth, and he would only sign one non-Avatar product (as in all the Transmet comics that The Captain brought).
If he hates it so much, why doesn't he just fuck off back to the U.K. where people look at him like he's just another borderline-alcoholic gimp with bad teeth? Take some fucking Prozac or get a new manager.
Then I met Wally Wingert and all was right with the world. This man is hereby blessed, as is not to be harmed in any way.
Wally Wingert is an incredibly talented and prolific voice actor working in just about every animated movie or television show in production. A short list of his credits inlcude: Family Guy, Battlestar Galactica, Harvey Birdman: Attorney at Law, Transformers: Robots in Disguise, Garfield Gets Real, Resistance: Fall of Man, The Ant Bully, Invader ZIM, American Dad, Final Fantasy VII: Advent Children, Madagascar, Law & Order: Criminal Intent, Tony Hawk's Pro Skater, Astro Boy, Enter the Matrix, Naruto, Just Shoot Me, and the list goes on and on...
A few years ago at a previous Comic Con, he was in a panel on How To Get Into Voice Over Acting where the panel (and room) was much smaller than this years'. He was the same smiling, laughing guy as he was then, and that last time he encouraged me personally, when I met him after the panel, to pursue voice acting. After much ado, I now have an agent and a decent demo reel, and I wanted to thank him for his encouragement. He was very gracious.
This year's panel had heavyweights like Joe Alaskey, Will Ryan and Neil Ross, but they didn't talk about how to do it or how to get in to their field -- they just did impressions and then read a radio play of War of the Worlds. A little lame, but worth suffering through if it meant I could get to meet some of my heroes.
Then on the Sunday, Wally and I run into each other at Dick's Last Resort on Fifth Street and though we make eye contact, I am careful to just give a polite wave and meet the rest of my party. After he's done eating, he comes over to our table, and after introductions all around , we exchange a little small talk. The last thing he said was, "I look forward to working with you someday." What a great guy. He didn't know me from Adam, but he went out of his way to be nice and he sure as shit didn't refuse to shake my hand (I think I shook his hand three times). This guy is a prince, and I want all of the other Bastards out there to give him a wide berth -- he's been Officially Blessed by St. Bastard and as such is under my protection.
We're going to try to convince the Suicide Girls to let me interview them and Law will take the pictures. I'll keep you posted as things develop.
At the end of five days, I found myself exhausted, sick of people, and in possession of three huge bags full of free shit, including "Vote Petrelli" buttons from the Heroes booth, bags from G4, exclusive Watchmen posters, half a dozen t-shirts and a huge amount of other totally worthless swag that I will attempt to pawn off on my co-workers on Monday.
One bright note amid the hussle and bussle was an independent comic I picked up called "To The Power Against" and it's basically Buffy the Vampire Slayer for the Stephen Hawking crowd.
Funny, smart, well-drawn stuff by two ladies who hold their own in a field dominated by men. If you have the means, I highly recommend picking up their first issue and getting on this bandwagon while there's still room.
Wow. There's so much else to tell... Meeting all the folks, chilling at Lime's with Mike and the JMS crew, crashing the Marvel party at the Hyatt, the 3-D art...
Oh, and the best part!
...
No. No, that one I save just for me.
I have also hereby promised myself that I am never going back to Comic Con as a spectator. Fuck that noise. I am either going back as a Professional or not at all.
And that's the Gospel... according to St. Bastard
Monday, August 6, 2007
Time Is The Fire in Which We All Burn.
The problem with Time is that you can only truly experience it fully and viscerally in moments of real crisis. Clocks are inferior mechanisms compared to our own internal panic and sense of impending disaster. Time pieces are artificial means to remind us that each moment, we slide further towards the inevitable conclusion. Nothing compares to the reality framed by the moments before and after the other car blindsides you.
The problem with women is that despite Women's Lib and Equality and Feminism, most of them still believe what they're told. Magazines and movies and commercials and television shows and even radio shows tell them that in order to be loved, they must adhere to some ridiculous standard of beauty that is not only unrealistic, but unhealthy, and in most cases, not biologically possible.
The problem with men is that we have a brain and a penis and only enough blood to run one at a time and we are usually worried about the size of either or both.
The problem with life is that we always rush through the really important bits, and only later realize that we should have savored and enjoyed the experience.
You know how when you go on a trip, you always feel like there's more stuff to do than you have time for? No matter how carefully you plan your vacation, there's always that feeling that somehow you missed something important -- the nagging feeling at the back of your mind that you didn't experience it all. The feeling that if you could just experience one more thing, then everything would be perfect. There's a desperate hollow feeling that you rushed your way through the moments in life where you should've been paying the most attention.
Well, get used to that feeling. That's how your whole life will feel some day.
The problem with women is that despite Women's Lib and Equality and Feminism, most of them still believe what they're told. Magazines and movies and commercials and television shows and even radio shows tell them that in order to be loved, they must adhere to some ridiculous standard of beauty that is not only unrealistic, but unhealthy, and in most cases, not biologically possible.
The problem with men is that we have a brain and a penis and only enough blood to run one at a time and we are usually worried about the size of either or both.
The problem with life is that we always rush through the really important bits, and only later realize that we should have savored and enjoyed the experience.
You know how when you go on a trip, you always feel like there's more stuff to do than you have time for? No matter how carefully you plan your vacation, there's always that feeling that somehow you missed something important -- the nagging feeling at the back of your mind that you didn't experience it all. The feeling that if you could just experience one more thing, then everything would be perfect. There's a desperate hollow feeling that you rushed your way through the moments in life where you should've been paying the most attention.
Well, get used to that feeling. That's how your whole life will feel some day.
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