Timber: August 2000-June 29, 2009

There are dogs, and there are dogs. And then there are dogs like Timber.

Timber lived with Ellen and Brad, my sister and brother in law, and never failed to provide pure comedy with each visit. I was often blessed with his company during family visits, and we would 'talk' to each other, much of the conversation ending with Timber simply howling at me and looking away, fed up with my inability to fully speak Husky.


He loved his Timbits, he loved his walks, and he loved being around people. And we all loved him back.

See you later, boy. I'll do my best to learn the language for when we meet again.

New Hap And Leonard!

I didn't even know this was coming out. Damn!

Joe Lansdale's Hap and Leonard Pine mysteries are many things: hilarious, horrifically violent, and nigh impossible to put down. I admit I wasn't too crazy about the last one after the heights reached by the previous entries in the series, but it's been eight years since then. I've missed these two assholes very much. If you like hard crime mixed with smartass humour, then go find their first adventure, Savage Season.

Imagine the Parker novels with more laughs, and you're almost there.

Of Jelly Babies and Serra Angels

I'm starting to get into Magic: The Gathering. I think I can admit that to you, my constant readers and fellow dorks. I am enjoying the iteration of the game on XBLA--especially the 'Pay Only Once' part of it. Still, since I've been playing, Vulcan Ninja has dug up our old cards and instructional manuals, and has been seen reading them over beer. Apparently, we will be playing in the real world soon.

So I thought yesterday might be a good day to stop in at Freshers, the card place up near the Wellington Chapters. I had expected an eye-roll from the Ninja, but there was none. In fact, as we got out of the car, she saw the British Shop, and ran over, full of jelly baby expectation. Her joy at finding a bag let me know that I could probably spend a million dollars in the next five minutes and she wouldn't notice, so enraptured was she in her little gooey blobs of flavoured toxicity.

So, upon entering Freshers, I was taken with how clean the place was. How well set up. How polite the staff were. This is noteworthy, because many geek havens in town do not subscribe to this belief system. I walked past two older guys playing Magic, each card sealed in cryogenic plastic.



At the back, I was overloaded with all the variations of the game available for purchase. Since I was determined to spend only $5, I found a pack that met that requirement. I went up to make my purchase.

"You play Magic?" the woman asked.

"Uh, yeah. Kinda. I just started playing again on XBOX Live," I replied.

She looked confused at that. "Okay," she offered.

So I paid for the pack, and turned to leave. She quickly scribbled me a note, saying I would get 40% off my next pack. And that Wednesday was Magic Night, and I was more than welcome to come out, to see the Lords of The Game play. Used to the usual grunting one gets from comic book store employees, I was in shock at this display of politeness and, that rarest of things, a smile.

I thanked her, and left.

Outside, Ninja pretended her hands were tentacles, clutching at my shoulders. "Come eeeen, come eeeen, come eeeen to our leeetle world, leeetle boy," she hissed.

"I thought she was nice," I said.

She laughed,then turned her attention back to her Jelly Babies, munching happily.

Re-Entering Gotham City Limits

I think way too much about things that do not put food on my table, secure my future, or solve certain problems in my life. One of those things is often Batman.

I was not terribly happy with the end of Batman R.I.P, and was even less enthused with the wallet gouger that was Battle For The Cowl. So I left Gotham to its own devices.

Now DC is relaunching its' Batman books, and despite myself, I've picked up almost most of them. I've already wrote about Red Robin, but I've also enjoyed the others I've picked up.



The new take on Detective Comics--with Batwoman in the lead story with The Question backing up as a second story--is very, very good. My current favourite of the new books. Greg Rucka delivers a great script, the art...the art...is very much of the awesome. There's also a very good podcast here at Word Balloon where Rucka talks about the book, and his excitement and enthusiasm is catching.

And this was also fun.



Gotham City Sirens climbs out of the pit of a terrible title. Three gorgeous criminals, loose in Gotham, written by Paul Dini. Could just be cheesecake, but is far, far more. Still, I love Catwoman--I have a statue of her on my fireplace, after all--so perhaps I'm blinded by unattainable love. Add Harley, written by her creator, and I'll make do with Poison Ivy, who I've never really warmed to. Call it a prickly relationship. Looks like a fun caper book, and isn't as dark and clenched jaw as most other Batman books.

So, yeah, I'm back in Gotham. Let's hope it's a long and enjoyable stay. This time.

Somewhere, Carlos The Dwarf Fights On

I've been watching the entire Freaks and Geeks series over the past few weeks, and came to the final episode tonight. It's like waking from a dream with Rush's Moving Pictures as a soundtrack. Such a wonderful show, much love do I feel. For those of us teetering, hands wheeling in the air, over the cloying pit of middle age, it's a balm with +5 Healing. Lindsey is the girlfriend many of us aimed for, the geeks were the guys we hung out with (at least, I did, not being as cool as Mr. Jim Dandy.) And many of my friends were stoners, lunch table regulars, vials of black hashish oil in their red and black jackets, workboots scuffed to acceptable disrepair,laces permanently undone, pregnancies and locker raids always just avoided.

The Eighties were a great time to be a teenager. Most of the time. Well, now and again. But those now and agains were pretty awesome.

Mondays?

...can go fuck themselves.

Robins and Planewalkers

Sunday evening looming, listening to ListenUp, the podcast I thought was gone forever. Oh, it's good to hear these guys again.

Random things, because that's all I'm capable of today after discovering spiced ale last night.

Read Red Robin #1.



This was written by Christopher Yost, who also writes the enjoyable Iron Man and co-writes the guilty pleasure that is X-Force. I still had no expectations for this, and despite some trouble with the art, it was surprisingly good. I didn't read The Battle For The Cowl so I don't have all the minute details of why Tim Drake, I mean Tim Wayne, is dressed as Red Robin. From this issue, it seems he's out to find Bruce Wayne who he refuses to believe is dead. He goes about this in a curious way--by tooling around Europe and beating up bad guys. There is also a monster running around biting out the chests of assassins, some pure assholery from New Robin Damien, and a great last page. My three dollars did not feel stolen from me.

The art had some trouble, namely with Tim clearly gaining 40 pounds of muscle mass just by putting on the Red Robin outfit. He's also very GrimDark, which isn't the Tim I've been reading for close to twenty years. Still, a good, quick action comic.

Also enjoyed Streets of Gotham.



No, wait, that isn't it...



Paul Dini and Dustin Nguyen made Detective Comics the far better Batman book for the last year or so. Now they've been moved over here to their own brand new title. Just quality. As for the Manhunter backup, I'm happy to see her back, since I always liked the character: a pissed off D.A. who steals criminals' gear from the evidence room, slaps it on and goes out to slap the shit out of bad guys. She's furious, and that makes for good reading. On the other hand, I'm not happy being forced to slap down an extra buck for a character that I may or may not want to read about. If this was The Creeper, for example, I'm not sure if I would pick up the book, Dini or no.



5% of the Campaign finished, three decks unlocked. And the XBox hasn't died. Win!

Friday Night Videos

It's a Friday Night Video Dance Party! Geek music rulez! See what I did there? I used a Z! That means it's the weekend!



Vulcan Ninja has declared that this song is 'gay'. I said, "Yes, it's Enola Gay". She shook her head.




Doesn't that guy look like Adric?




The crush I had on that girl could move stars.

So Close

I almost did it today.

I almost cut off my beard. I had become weak. I was starting to listen to my friends. It's clear it isn't popular. Whereas I used to get suspicious looks for having long hair when I entered a store, restaurant, or gun shop, with the beard I'm actually close to being tasered on sight. Mutterings about chain saws, about looking like I'm on drugs, all such wonderful comments from people who have, unknowingly, now opened themselves to me commenting on them.

But I won't. You see, I have manners.

Still, I came home today, went into the bathroom, and took out the scissors. And stood there, and put the blades to my beard.

Then I remembered.








And I put the scissors down.

If it's good enough for them--and Vikings--it's good enough for me.

Who Party 14

The crew of my other blog, Carnival of Monsters, descended upon Who Party 14 in Toronto this weekend with righteous geekery.

Who Party was easily one of the best cons I've ever attended, due mainly to the fine programming of my pals Graeme Burk, Mike Doran and Rod Mammitzsch. The guests were also exemplary, with no traces of ego. Doctor Who directors James Strong and Colin Teague were very friendly, and I was fortunate enough to chat with Strong about his episode The Satan Pit, which I always liked for its mixture of Quatermass and Lovecraftian influences.

Other highlights included meeting up again with my friend Rob Shearman (who won a World Fantasy Award last November). We tried all day to get a picture together, but 'twas madness. When I passed him coming into the bathroom, I said, "Rob! Now we can take our picture together by the urinals!" He replied, "Yes, we could, Sean, but it wouldn't be canon."

I also got to co-host my first panel, which turned out to be rather fun: 'Saying Goodbye To The Tenth Doctor'. I co-hosted with Erin Deli, who is a new Doctor Who fan writer who will be a proverbial rising star in the years to come. She made me feel old, partly because she reminded me of how long I've been doing this fan writer thing,and how she would have been in grade school when I began. I felt like some battle scarred veteran around her and the other recent converts ('the Tennant babies'), withholding the urge to say "You think Love and Monsters was bad? You shoulda been in the trenches when Trial Of A Time Lord was around, missy!"

Still, they knew their shit, as we like to say. They've watched their DVDs, and have fed themselves only on Target novelizations and DWM. Their Basic Training has served them well.



But the highlight of my trip down was having an hour long conversation with one of my writing heroes, Lance Parkin. His Who novels are among my favourites, mainly because Parkin creates the kind of Doctor Who I adore, and because he adds an undefinable depth to his work. So many tie-in novels are thin storylines wrapped between a cover that cost more than the text itself, but Parkin's work is quality science fiction that just happens to be connected to a television show. His novel Cold Fusion opened my eyes to what the range was capable of, and he hasn't written a book yet that I haven't clutched to my chest and went Squeee! (For pure hardcore Doctor Who, Parkin's The Infinity Doctors will either melt your mind and leave you a drooling husk or make you start making obsessive notes in the margin while you surf the net to make sure you get all the references.)

All in all, a good day with good friends, celebrating a show we all love ever, ever so much.

It's Been A Long, Trying Wednesday....

...and I just want to see Emily dance.

Head Down, Mind In Champloo

It's Monday. The week stretches ahead like a failed amusement park of responsibility, boredom, and several grey shades of tedium. So I'm keeping my head down, lost in the comforting champloo moving around my head. I have Who Party this weekend in Toronto, so that's my carrot in front of the donkey. So what is in the mix, getting me from the grey wasteland of here to the fireworks and fun!fun!fun! times of the weekend?

Well, I've been caught up in this:



...which has been my main focus for the last four days. I think most of you would enjoy this series, because it has surprised me. When I heard the nerdcore praising it, I thought it would be the usual soft, nice and comfortable fantasy that appeals far too much to Our People. But The Dresden Files has fangs. It doesn't shy away. And Harry Dresden is perhaps the only real pulp hero we have today, one we can believe in, one where we feel every punch, every kick the poor bastard takes.

As well, since my baby is at Hospital Microsoft, I've been forced to wrench the DS away from Vulcan Ninja to play this:



...one of those RPGs that the diehards adore but sells next to nothing here in North America. If you loved Final Fantasy 12, you'll love this. There's enough weirdness to satisfy your need for originality, there is the nit picking building of character and abilities, and an omnipresent soundtrack that you keep humming the next day. You can pick it up on Amazon for under $25. I recommend it.

So, wizards and fashion conscious teens fighting demons rolling around in my head.

Yeah, a typical Monday.

Geek Awesome Moment Of The Week

From Mighty Avengers #25. Dan Slott confirms why I pick up this book every month. A pissing match between Hank Pym and Reed Richards? Yes please.