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Have you finally passed the caricature-of-yourself event horizon and become a libertoonian?

Huh?

I think you skipped a few steps there. How is a company not providing an exit strategy to customers a fault of the government? (You're being graded for the logic and comprehensibility of your answer.)

Have you finally passed the caricature-of-yourself event horizon and become a libertoonian?

It is easy for anyone to see that your tone is mocking, and your expression implies that you deem your own conclusion to be absurd. Typically, one would infer that you were refuting your correspondent by reductio, but in this case your argument doesn't seem to be responsive to a position expressed by the poster to whom you respond. Since you are not refuting your correspondent by reducing him to absurdity, by a process of exclusion, we can conclude that you are reducing *yourself* to absurdity.

Welcome to the society for creative self-caricature.

Interesting. I've met a couple of other sentaors, as well as several sentorial candidates. With one exception (Ben "Nighthorse" Campbell of Colorado, who is now retired), regardless of party affiliation or political bent, they *ALL* struck me as the type that "put themselves first on their priority list", i.e. they were all about themselves and really didnt seem to care all that much about people -- except where it could get them elected or re-elected; there they "fake" concern for "the people" fairly well.

Its a shame Mr Ashdown, although a techie-type, seemingly fits the same mold. I guess it has to do with the money & ambition that it takes to campaign at that level (even in Utah), and the (defective) driven personality types that such "jobs" attract. For the end-state of such ambitions, look no further than Robert Bryd and Trent Lott (or Ted Kennedy who has become a walking self-caricature).

Okay, their Chinese suck. But what they are saying is really funny: http://fireflychinese.home.att.net/. And sure, the accents of Niska and Badger are kinda comical, in a villain caricature-type way. But the subtle details, like the "ain't"s and the way Mal talks especially, provides a massive level of detail. Everytime you watch it, you see more and more details. It's a very rich show. Too bad the budget was almost nil, and Fox intervened and said, "No, Whedon, do it our way." The movie is supposed to be darker, where every episode doesn't end in a hug and a happy moment, because everyone (read: Jayne) isn't always happy and getting along.

Statistically speaking McVeigh was an anamoly and including his case in the database would not significantly alter the fact that most known terrorists are middle eastern.

In response to the rather snarky comments following up my post:

1. J.Erwin: 'Caffeinated' does not denote added caffeine, be it powdered or otherwise.

2. gz718: Point taken on author Wm. Grimes' specialization and august status (perhaps he should stick to culinary criticism); however my 'Science' jibe was referring to the article's classification on Slashdot.

3. barakn: "The article wasn't science, but your idea isn't either." -- ah, good to see that pedantry is alive and well..... gripping another would-be didact self-caricatured by ignorance. The assertion that subjective experiential data (i.e., my suggested informal 'experiment' to consume each drink on separate succesive nights, which in other words was merely a directive to Try It Yourself) is entirely worthless due to the power of suggestion is absurd -- unsurprising given barakn's facile and flaccid attempt at sardonicism (that old warhorse "the placebo effect" is trotted out despite its complete irrelevance to the comparison of two disparate substances, as a placebo is absent of active ingredients.) It is an emblematic symptom of contemporary first-world cognitive malaise to spastically mis-apply vaguely remembered quasi-scientific Key Terms like "double-blind" in an attempt to establish credibility (hey, it worked well enough on those BS essays in school, right?) Although I never claimed my suggestion satisfies the requirements for a scientifically sound Experiment (and never would make such a patently ridiculous claim), I stand by my recommendation to Try It Yourself as science in the essential Socratic sense. The implications of a paradigm in which each individual's experiences are negated by a pseudoscientific invocation of dubious psychological (oh yeah, I already said 'pseudoscientific', so that's redundant) platitudes are actually quite dire. Think about it.

People like you just lead us further into the upwardly spiralling cycle of hatred and violence, seemingly unable to see the obvious, predictable and inevitable outcome of continually upping the ante against the potential threat of a hyper-caricatured and vilified view of 'the enemy'.

Hey, I didn't propose a SOLUTION, so don't get all "cycle of hatred" on me. I just stated a FACT, which is that there are a lot of guys who hate us for *who we are.* For *how we live.* Is that propaganda? Or is it just defining the problem?

Even Bin Laden said, in his letter to us, that the first thing he calls us to is Islam. He wants to change us, he is very open about that, and he speaks for a lot of the "bad guys," as I call them, even if it gives the moral relativism crowd hives.

If you have an easy way to make them stop hating us besides caving in to demands, please post it here and FedEx it to the UN and the White House while you are at it.

(Insert standard "not all Muslims are asshats" disclaimer here. Thanks.)

Honestly, real life isn't some cliched American TV show or movie where all the characters neatly fall into these little "good" and "evil" boxes.

Not everyone fits neatly into such boxes. But some sure do, like the asshats that cut off that guy's head the other day. Claiming otherwise puts one in a different box, labeled "fool."

Just to check, are you sarcastically mocking the people who have been brainwashed by Bush propaganda, or are you one of the people who have been brainwashed by Bush propaganda? Honestly, real life isn't some cliched American TV show or movie where all the characters neatly fall into these little "good" and "evil" boxes. The real world is a lot more complex than that, and so are people. If you continue to believe that people in other countries hate the US because they "are just mean people" (oooh, invoke super-evil Darth Vader-like stereotype here), then no progress will ever, ever, ever be made towards peace. People like you just lead us further into the upwardly spiralling cycle of hatred and violence, seemingly unable to see the obvious, predictable and inevitable outcome of continually upping the ante against the potential threat of a hyper-caricatured and vilified view of 'the enemy'. Good luck with your intelligent strategy there, hope it works out for you.

Take current global demographic predictions, shake and stir, and bake in a populated solar system for 200 years. Hello new society!

I'm getting older and so more cranky about SF that doesn't get 'culture' -- that there's a massive breadth and variety to human behaviour, and an enormous set of options for our adaptability.

This is where a great deal of SF falls down, so you find things like Heinlein's caricatures-as-characters and a star drek universe filled with Euros with funny foreheads.

It's the writers who really combine the ability to create realistic characters and put them in inventive cultural predictions, combined with a grand vision of the human experiment, who do the best job on nailing the technological futurism that makes SF so much fun. So, writers like John Varley who understand that culture changes at least as quickly as technology, and that the two are deeply intertwined, do a pretty good job at showing us where we can go. (Despite the fact that his characters have a Heinleinian glibness to them, he still pulls off some character depth and realism--and I think it's because he really likes the whole species.)

Kim Stanley Robinson is another excellent example of somebody who gets this intersection of cultural demographics and tech that we're working on (though his amazing Mars trilogy downplays the interaction of computer / brain tech in order to play out his political scenarios).

Some other writers who get this (or try to): N. Stephenson, S. Delaney, LeGuin, Gibson, O. Butler, A. Bester (sortof), Brin/Benford/Bear, Vinge, etc. Writers who say they do but don't: Clarke, Asimov, Heinlein, Niven, and yes, [not meant to be flamebait] Herbert.

To me, most of the 'cyberpunk' derived SF is engaging simply because of the cultural complexity these stories acknowledge. I'm really tired of the naturalization of mid 20C US mainstream culture throughout the cosmos.

Pretty much all SF has a strong covert or overt narrative tension between Utopia and Dystopia, and whether we realize it or not when we're reading it, this dynamic between where 'we' want to go and were we'll go if we blow it is one of the key movers of a good SF plot. You can't deal with either Utopia/Dystopia or technological development properly without the variable of cultural transformation front and centre.

As for The Dish - it's a very nice movie if you can locate it. Patrick Warburton and Sam Neill star, and it's a fine example of rural Australian culture and personalities (as opposed to the rather Hollywood-ized films like "Crocodile Dundee", or the self-caricature of the Croc Hunter...)
I visited Parkes earlier this year and believe me, they don't let you forget for a SECOND that The Dish was filmed there! "As Seen in The Dish" signs abound for miles around the place. Of course, the filming was probably the biggest thing to happen in Parkes since the moon landing itself...

But illiterate sociologists is just a bad caricature , isn't it?

For some reason, I thought that post you responded to was a sexist guy, mainly because [s?]he started off by agreeing with the male-chauvinist-caricature troll that he was responding to. I could be wrong, but the general drift was one that I've heard more often from sexist guys than from anybody else. OTOH, there is a lunatic fringe at the edge of feminism just as there is at the edge of anything else, and they do make rather similar noises. So you may be right.

There's also this: "Like myself now, men are constantly blasting off," -- which could be taken as the poster claiming to be a man.


And then, [s?]he said this:


In term's of brain structure, men's neurons are organized in cubes, women's in tetrahedrons.

. . . so whoever it is, we don't seem to be dealing with a rational individual. :)


As for the "more intelligent" part, it used to be quite socially acceptable to talk about how a Hispanic or Asian brain was genetically incapable of matching the superior Caucasian intelligence. Of course now, we know how ridiculus that is. Now some women are using the same argument against guys.

Some, yeah. But a lot more guys (look at the rest of this discussion) have always used that argument against women, and many still do. I do agree with you that it's a load of shit any way you look at it.


Take care

"Star Wars" despots vs. "Star Trek" populists

Why is George Lucas peddling an elitist, anti-democratic agenda under the guise of escapist fun?

"But there's probably no better form of government than a good despot."
-- George Lucas (New York Times interview, March 1999)

Well, I boycotted "Episode I: The Phantom Menace" -- for an entire week.

Why? What's to boycott? Isn't "Star Wars" good old fashioned sci-fi? Harmless fun? Some people call it "eye candy" -- a chance to drop back into childhood and punt your adult cares away for two hours, dwelling in a lavish universe where good and evil are vividly drawn, without all the inconvenient counterpoint distinctions that clutter daily life.

Got a problem? Cleave it with a light saber! Wouldn't you love -- just once in your life -- to dive a fast little ship into your worst enemy's stronghold and set off a chain reaction, blowing up the whole megillah from within its rotten core while you streak away to safety at the speed of light? (It's such a nifty notion that it happens in three out of four "Star Wars" flicks.)

Anyway, I make a good living writing science-fiction novels and movies. So "Star Wars" ought to be a great busman's holiday, right?

One of the problems with so-called light entertainment today is that somehow, amid all the gaudy special effects, people tend to lose track of simple things, like story and meaning. They stop noticing the moral lessons the director is trying to push. Yet these things matter.

By now it's grown clear that George Lucas has an agenda, one that he takes very seriously. After four "Star Wars" films, alarm bells should have gone off, even among those who don't look for morals in movies. When the chief feature distinguishing "good" from "evil" is how pretty the characters are, it's a clue that maybe the whole saga deserves a second look.

Just what bill of goods are we being sold, between the frames?

* Elites have an inherent right to arbitrary rule; common citizens needn't be consulted. They may only choose which elite to follow.

* "Good" elites should act on their subjective whims, without evidence, argument or accountability.

* Any amount of sin can be forgiven if you are important enough.

* True leaders are born. It's genetic. The right to rule is inherited.

* Justified human emotions can turn a good person evil.

That is just the beginning of a long list of "moral" lessons relentlessly pushed by "Star Wars." Lessons that starkly differentiate this saga from others that seem superficially similar, like "Star Trek." (We'll take a much closer look at some stark divergences between these two sci-fi universes below.)

Above all, I never cared for the whole Nietzschian Übermensch thing: the notion -- pervading a great many myths and legends -- that a good yarn has to be about demigods who are bigger, badder and better than normal folk by several orders of magnitude. It's an ancient storytelling tradition based on abiding contempt for the masses -- one that I find odious in the works of A.E. Van Vogt, E.E. Smith, L. Ron Hubbard and wherever you witness slanlike super-beings deciding the fate of billions without ever pausing to consider their wishes.

Wow, you say. If I feel that strongly about this, why just a week-long boycott? Why see the latest "Star Wars" film at all?

Because I am forced to admit that demigod tales resonate deeply in the human heart.

Before moving on to the fun stuff, will you bear with me while we get serious for a little while?

In "The Hero With a Thousand Faces," Joseph Campbell showed how a particular, rhythmic storytelling technique was used in almost every ancient and pre-modern culture, depicting protagonists and antagonists with certain consistent motives and character traits, a pattern that transcended boundaries of language and culture. In these classic tales, the hero begins reluctant, yet signs and portents foretell his pre-ordained greatness. He receives dire warnings and sage wisdom from a mentor, acquires quirky-but-faithful companions, faces a series of steepening crises, explores the pit of his own fears and emerges triumphant to bring some boon/talisman/victory home to his admiring tribe/people/nation.

By offering valuable insights into this revered storytelling tradition, Joseph Campbell did indeed shed light on common spiritual traits that seem shared by all human beings. And I'll be the first to admit it's a superb formula -- one that I've used at times in my own stories and novels.

Alas, Campbell only highlighted positive traits, completely ignoring a much darker side -- such as how easily this standard fable-template was co-opted by kings, priests and tyrants, extolling the all-importance of elites who tower over common women and men. Or the implication that we must always adhere to variations on a single story, a single theme, repeating the same prescribed plot outline over and over again. Those who praise Joseph Campbell seem to perceive this uniformity as cause for rejoicing -- but it isn't. Playing a large part in the tragic miring of our spirit, demigod myths helped reinforce sameness and changelessness for millennia, transfixing people in nearly every culture, from Gilgamesh all the way to comic book super heroes.

It is essential to understand the radical departure taken by genuine science fiction, which comes from a diametrically opposite literary tradition -- a new kind of storytelling that often rebels against those very same archetypes Campbell venerated. An upstart belief in progress, egalitarianism, positive-sum games -- and the slim but real possibility of decent human institutions.

And a compulsive questioning of rules! Authors like Greg Bear, John Brunner, Alice Sheldon, Frederik Pohl and Philip K. Dick always looked on any prescriptive storytelling formula as a direct challenge -- a dare. This explains why science fiction has never been much welcomed at either extreme of the literary spectrum -- comic books and "high literature."

Comics treat their superheroes with reverent awe, as demigods were depicted in the Iliad. But a true science fiction author who wrote about Superman would have earthling scientists ask the handsome Man of Steel for blood samples (even if it means scraping with a super fingernail) in order to study his puissant powers, and maybe bottle them for everyone.

As for the literary elite, postmodernists despise science fiction because of the word "science," while their older colleagues -- steeped in Aristotle's "Poetics" -- find anathema the underlying assumption behind most high-quality SF: the bold assertion that there are no "eternal human verities." Things change, and change can be fascinating. Moreover, our children might outgrow us! They may become better, or learn from our mistakes and not repeat them. And if they don't learn, that could be a riveting tragedy far exceeding Aristotle's cramped and myopic definition. "On the Beach," "Soylent Green" and "1984" plumbed frightening depths. "Brave New World," "The Screwfly Solution" and "Fahrenheit 451" posed worrying questions. In contrast, "Oedipus Rex" is about as interesting as watching a hooked fish thrash futilely at the end of a line. You just want to put the poor doomed King of Thebes out of his misery -- and find a way to punish his tormentors.

This truly is a different point of view, in direct opposition to older, elitist creeds that preached passivity and awe in nearly every culture, where a storyteller's chief job was to flatter the oligarchic patrons who fed him. Imagine Achilles refusing to accept his ordained destiny, taking up his sword and hunting down the Fates, demanding that they give him both a long life and a glorious one! Picture Odysseus telling both Agamemnon and Poseidon to go chase themselves, then heading off to join Daedalus in a garage start-up company, mass producing wheeled and winged horses so that mortals could swoop about the land and air, like gods -- the way common folk do today. Even if they fail, and jealous Olympians crush them, what a tale it would be.

This storytelling style was rarely seen till a few generations ago, when aristocrats lost some of their power to punish irreverence. Even now, the new perspective remains shaky -- and many find it less romantic, too. How many dramas reflexively depict scientists as "mad"? How few modern films ever show American institutions functioning well enough to bother fixing them? No wonder George Lucas publicly yearns for the pomp of mighty kings over the drab accountability of presidents. Many share his belief that things might be a whole lot more vivid without all the endless, dreary argument and negotiating that make up such a large part of modern life.

If only someone would take command. A leader.


Some people say, why look for deep lessons in harmless, escapist entertainment?

Others earnestly hold that the moral health of a civilization can be traced in its popular culture.

In the modern era, we tend to feel ideas aren't inherently toxic. Yet who can deny that people -- especially children -- will be swayed if a message is repeated often enough? It's when a "lesson" gets reiterated relentlessly that even skeptics should sit up and take notice.

The moral messages in "Star Wars" aren't just window dressing. Speeches and lectures drench every film. They represent an agenda.

Can we learn more about the "Star Wars" worldview by comparing George Lucas' space-adventure epic to its chief competitor -- "Star Trek?"

The differences at first seem superficial. One saga has an air force motif (tiny fighters) while the other appears naval. In "Star Trek," the big ship is heroic and the cooperative effort required to maintain it is depicted as honorable. Indeed, "Star Trek" sees technology as useful and essentially friendly -- if at times also dangerous. Education is a great emancipator of the humble (e.g. Starfleet Academy). Futuristic institutions are basically good-natured (the Federation), though of course one must fight outbreaks of incompetence and corruption. Professionalism is respected, lesser characters make a difference and henchmen often become brave whistle-blowers -- as they do in America today.

In "Star Trek," when authorities are defied, it is in order to overcome their mistakes or expose particular villains, not to portray all institutions as inherently hopeless. Good cops sometimes come when you call for help. Ironically, this image fosters useful criticism of authority, because it suggests that any of us can gain access to our flawed institutions, if we are determined enough -- and perhaps even fix them with fierce tools of citizenship.

By contrast, the oppressed "rebels" in "Star Wars" have no recourse in law or markets or science or democracy. They can only choose sides in a civil war between two wings of the same genetically superior royal family. They may not meddle or criticize. As Homeric spear-carriers, it's not their job.

In teaching us how to distinguish good from evil, Lucas prescribes judging by looks: Villains wear Nazi helmets. They hiss and leer, or have red-glowing eyes, like in a Ralph Bakshi cartoon. On the other hand, "Star Trek" tales often warn against judging a book by its cover -- a message you'll also find in the films of Steven Spielberg, whose spunky everyman characters delight in reversing expectations and asking irksome questions.

Above all, "Star Trek" generally depicts heroes who are only about 10 times as brilliant, noble and heroic as a normal person, prevailing through cooperation and wit, rather than because of some inherited godlike transcendent greatness. Characters who do achieve godlike powers are subjected to ruthless scrutiny. In other words, "Trek" is a prototypically American dream, entranced by notions of human improvement and a progress that lifts all. Gene Roddenberry's vision loves heroes, but it breaks away from the elitist tradition of princes and wizards who rule by divine or mystical right.

By contrast, these are the only heroes in the "Star Wars" universe.

Yes, "Trek" can at times seem preachy, or turgidly politically correct. For example, every species has to mate with every other one, interbreeding with almost compulsive abandon. The only male heroes who are allowed any testosterone are Klingons, because cultural diversity outweighs sexual correctness. (In other words, it's OK for them to be macho 'cause it is "their way.") "Star Trek" television episodes often devolved into soap operas. Many of the movies were very badly written. Nevertheless, "Trek" tries to grapple with genuine issues, giving complex voices even to its villains and asking hard questions about pitfalls we may face while groping for tomorrow. Anyway, when it comes to portraying human destiny, where would you rather live, assuming you'll be a normal citizen and no demigod? In Roddenberry's Federation? Or Lucas' Empire?

Lucas defends his elitist view, telling the New York Times, "That's sort of why I say a benevolent despot is the ideal ruler. He can actually get things done. The idea that power corrupts is very true and it's a big human who can get past that."

In other words a royal figure or demigod, anointed by fate. (Like a billionaire moviemaker?)

Lucas often says we are a sad culture, bereft of the confidence or inspiration that strong leaders can provide. And yet, aren't we the very same culture that produced George Lucas and gave him so many opportunities? The same society that raised all those brilliant experts for him to hire -- boldly creative folks who pour both individual inspiration and cooperative skill into his films? A culture that defies the old homogenizing impulse by worshipping eccentricity, with unprecedented hunger for the different, new or strange? It what way can such a civilization be said to lack confidence?

In historical fact, all of history's despots, combined, never managed to "get things done" as well as this rambunctious, self-critical civilization of free and sovereign citizens, who have finally broken free of worshipping a ruling class and begun thinking for themselves. Democracy can seem frustrating and messy at times, but it delivers.

Having said all that, let me again acknowledge that "Star Wars" harks to an old and very, very deeply human archetype. Those who listened to Homer recite the "Iliad" by a campfire knew great drama. Achilles could slay a thousand with the sweep of a hand -- as Darth Vader murders billions with the press of a button -- but none of those casualties matters next to the personal saga of a great one. The slaughtered victims are mere minions. Extras, without families or hopes to worry about shattering. Spear-carriers. Only the demigod's personal drama is important.

Thus few protest the apotheosis of Darth Vader -- nee Anakin Skywalker -- in "Return of the Jedi."

To put it in perspective, let's imagine that the United States and its allies managed to capture Adolf Hitler at the end of the Second World War, putting him on trial for war crimes. The prosecution spends months listing all the horrors done at his behest. Then it is the turn of Hitler's defense attorney, who rises and utters just one sentence:

"But, your honors ... Adolf did save the life of his own son!"

Gasp! The prosecutors blanch in chagrin. "We didn't know that! Of course all charges should be dismissed at once!"

The allies then throw a big parade for Hitler, down the avenues of Nuremberg.

It may sound silly, but that's exactly the lesson taught by "Return of the Jedi," wherein Darth Vader is forgiven all his sins, because he saved the life of his own son.

How many of us have argued late at night over the philosophical conundrum -- "Would you go back in time and kill Hitler as a boy, if given a chance?" It's a genuine moral puzzler, with many possible ethical answers. Still, most people, however they ultimately respond, would admit being tempted to say yes, if only to save millions of Hitler's victims.

And yet, in "The Phantom Menace," Lucas wants us to gush with warm feelings toward a cute blond little boy who will later grow up to murder the population of Earth many times over? While we're at it, why not bring out the Hitler family album, so we may croon over pictures of adorable little Adolf and marvel over his childhood exploits! He, too, was innocent till he turned to the "dark side," so by all means let us adore him.

To his credit, Lucas does not try to excuse this macabre joke by saying, "It's only a movie." Rather, he holds up his saga like an agonized Greek tragedy worthy of "Oedipus" -- an epic tale of a fallen hero, trapped by hubris and fate. But if that were true, wouldn't "Star Wars" by now have given us a better-than-caricature view of the Dark Side? Heroes and villains would not be distinguished by mere prettiness; the moral quandaries would not come from a comic book.

Don't swallow it. The apotheosis of a mass murderer is exactly what it seems. We should find it chilling.

Remember the final scene in "Return of the Jedi," when Luke gazes into a fire to see Obi-Wan, Yoda and Vader, smiling in the flames? I found myself hoping it was Jedi Hell, for the amount of pain those three unleashed on their galaxy, and for all the damned lies they told. But that's me. I'm a rebel against Homer and Achilles and that whole tradition. At heart, some of you are, too.

This isn't just a one-time distinction. It marks the main boundary between real, literate, humanistic science fiction -- or speculative fiction -- and most of the movie "sci-fi" you see nowadays.

The difference isn't really about complexity, childishness, scientific naiveté or haughty prose stylization. I like a good action scene as well as the next guy, and can forgive technical gaffes if the story is way cool! The films of Robert Zemeckis take joy in everything, from rock 'n' roll to some deep scientific paradox, feeding both the child and the adult within. Meanwhile, noir tales like "Gattaca" and "The 13th Floor" relish dark stylization while exploring real ideas. Good SF has range.

No, the underlying difference is that one tradition revels in elites, while the other rebels against them. In the genuine science-fiction worldview, demigods aren't easily forgiven lies and murder. Contempt for the masses is passé. There may be heroes -- even great ones -- but in the long run we'll improve together, or not at all. (See my note on the Enlightenment, Romanticism and science fiction.)

That kind of myth does sell. Yet, even after rebelling against the Homeric archetype for generations, we children of Pericles, Ben Franklin and H.G. Wells remain a minority. So much so that Lucas can appropriate our hand-created tropes and symbols -- our beloved starships and robots -- for his own ends and get credited for originality.

As I mentioned earlier, the mythology of conformity and demigod-worship pervades the highest levels of today's intelligentsia, and helps explain why so many postmodernist English literature professors despise real science fiction. When Joseph Campbell prescribed that writers should adhere slavishly to a hackneyed plot outline that preached submission for ages, he was lionized by Bill Moyers and countless others for his warm and fuzzy "human insight."

Indeed, his perceptions were compassionate and illuminating! Still, a frank discussion or debate might have been more useful than Campbell's sunny monologue. As in the old fable about a golden-haired king, no one dared point to the bright ruler's dark shadow, or his long trail of bloody footprints.

I admit we face an uphill battle winning most people over to a more progressive, egalitarian worldview, along with stirring dreams that focus on genuine problems and heroes, not demigods. Meanwhile, Lucas knows his mythos appeals to human nature at a deep and ancient level.

Hell, it appeals to part of my nature! Which is why I knew I'd cave in and see "The Phantom Menace," after my symbolic one-week boycott expired. In fact, let me confess that I adored the second film in the series, "The Empire Strikes Back." Despite Yoda's kitschy pseudo-zen, one could easily suspend disbelief and wait to see what the Jedi philosophy had to say. Millions became keyed up to find out, at long last, why Obi-Wan and Yoda lied like weasels to Luke Skywalker. Meanwhile, the script sizzled with originality, good dialogue and relentlessly compelling characters. The action was dynamite ... and even logical! Common folk got almost as much chance to be heroic as the demigods. Clichés were few and terrific surprises abounded. There were fine foreshadowings, promising more marvels in sequels. It was simply a great movie. Homeric but great.

You already know what I think of what came next. But worshipping Darth Vader only scratches the surface. The biggest moral flaw in the "Star Wars" universe is one point that Lucas stresses over and over again, through the voice of his all-wise guru character, Yoda.

Let's see if I get this right. Fear makes you angry and anger makes you evil, right?

Now I'll concede at once that fear has been a major motivator of intolerance in human history. I can picture knightly adepts being taught to control fear and anger, as we saw credibly in "The Empire Strikes Back." Calmness makes you a better warrior and prevents mistakes. Persistent wrath can cloud judgment. That part is completely believable.

But then, in "Return of the Jedi," Lucas takes this basic wisdom and perverts it, saying -- "If you get angry -- even at injustice and murder -- it will automatically and immediately transform you into an unalloyedly evil person! All of your opinions and political beliefs will suddenly and magically reverse. Every loyalty will be forsaken and your friends won't be able to draw you back. You will instantly join your sworn enemy as his close pal or apprentice. All because you let yourself get angry at his crimes."

Uh, say what? Could you repeat that again, slowly?

In other words, getting angry at Adolf Hitler will cause you to rush right out and join the Nazi Party? Excuse me, George. Could you come up with a single example of that happening? Ever?

That contention is, in itself, a pretty darn evil thing to preach. Above all, it is just plain dumb.

It raises a question that someone should have asked a long time ago. Who the heck nominated George Lucas to preach sick, popcorn morality at our children? If it's "only a movie," why is he working so hard to fill his films with this crap?

I think it's time to choose, people. This saga is not just another expression of the Homeric archetype, extolling old hierarchies of princes, wizards and demigods. By making its centerpiece the romanticization of a mass murderer, "Star Wars" has sunk far lower. It is unworthy of our attention, our enthusiasm -- or our civilization.

Lucas himself gives a clue when he says, "A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away."

Right on. "Star Wars" belongs to our dark past. A long, tyrannical epoch of fear, illogic, despotism and demagoguery that our ancestors struggled desperately to overcome, and that we are at last starting to emerge from, aided by the scientific and egalitarian spirit that Lucas openly despises. A spirit we must encourage in our children, if they are to have any chance at all.

I don't expect to win this argument any time soon. As Joseph Campbell rightly pointed out, the ways of our ancestors tug at the soul with a resonance many find romantically appealing, even irresistible. Some cannot put the fairy tale down and move on to more mature fare. Not yet at least. Ah well.

But over the long haul, history is on my side. Because the course of human destiny won't be defined in the past. It will be decided in our future.

That's my bailiwick, though it truly belongs to all of you. To all of us.

The future is where our posterity will thrive.


---------------
By David Brin

June 15, 1999

You need to pull your finger out of your ass right now.
I know American not being NUMBER ONE is scary, but resting on your laurels is exactly the best way to make that a self-fulfilling prophesy.

China's middle/consumer class is now so large, that it can support vast domestic production. China doesn't have to accept waste re-processing from 3rd world countries anymore, and soon it won't have to make Walmart shit for rednecks anymore.

You can stick your fingers in your ears, scream fox news talking points, and ramble about how America put a trashcan on the moon 70 year ago, or you can get with the program.
America is a nation of fat junkies, and crumbling infrastructure.
China is on an upward trajectory, and all their infrastructure is brand-fucking-new. It's good too because most of it is German. The Germans have about the smartest relationship with China of any country, not a pissing match like has-been Anglo-shit countries.

Finally you need to understand how China is an authoritarian country. Not the fox news caricature of "le evil 20th century communists".
We need to focus on how the west is similar rather than different in order to counter authoritarianism.

You do WANT to counter authoritarianism don't you? Be honest. Many people are cucks in the Freudian sense, and secretly don't want to live in a free world. They want to be dominated by strong men, both personally and politically.

We're living in a time when being a standup is hard. Standup routines usually thrive on exaggerating and caricaturing celebrities, politicians and situations in general. The problem is, with the current batch of celebrities, politicians and the state of the world, how could you possibly exaggerate?

We're already living in a caricature.

7. The cooperation between online content-sharing service providers and rightholders shall not result in the prevention of the availability of works or other subject matter uploaded by users, which do not infringe copyright and related rights, including where such works or other subject matter are covered by an exception or limitation.
Member States shall ensure that users in each Member State are able to rely on any of the following existing exceptions or limitations when uploading and making available content generated by users on online content-sharing services:
(a)quotation, criticism, review;
(b)use for the purpose of caricature, parody or pastiche.

Furthermore

9. Member States shall provide that online content-sharing service providers put in place an effective and expeditious complaint and redress mechanism that is available to users of their services in the event of disputes over the disabling of access to, or the removal of, works or other subject matter uploaded by them.

Considering this, I looks like they already expect there to be plenty of "false positives". And just blocking all the uploads from inside the EU wouldn't be fine either in the eyes of the directive.
But what could they possibly do if you still block everything, including 'fair use' content, and you don't implement those complaint mechanism; because they cost you extra money?
If you're operating from outside of their jurisdiction are they going to block you for blocking them? Because that is the only thing they can do that I can think of right now (doesn't mean there are no other options).

Caricature (n) false or exaggerated representation of persons or events for purposes of propaganda
Reality....(n), true representation of persons or events for purposes of defeating propaganda
Cash your tRumpcheck, remember he likes to play chicken in court.

I'm a libertarian who believes we need taxes and a government.

Your caricature is of an anarchist. You're being purposefully dishonest and deceitful, and are also fucking retarded.

Ah yes the evil caricature with the cigar

Nobody gives a rat's ass what he is smoking, Ivan.