Who Wants to Run America

Good evening, America.  We’ve assembled an impressive array of politically astute figures, and an ordinary American, in the hopes of deciding which economic/political system fits the needs and preferences of America’s workers.  

 First, let’s meet our target audience, personified in the form of John Carter, a 40 year old auto worker from Flint, Michigan.  He has a wife and two children.  He likes Grand Funk Railroad, hunting, and watching the Red Wings. 

 And here are our contestants:

 From Berkeley, California, attempting to pitch the dictatorship of the proletariat to Mr. Carter, is Professor Trotsky (no relation).  (Trotsky, coiffed as his namesake, warmly waves to the audience).

 From Flint, Michigan himself, the man corporate America loves to hate, here to pitch “market socialism”, it’s…Michael Moore! (wearing yet another blue collar hat, Moore also warmly smiles and waves).

 From Washington, DC, here to sell Mr. Carter on our current capitalist system, let’s welcome the ascerbic, caustically witted, former National Lampoon writer P.J. O’Rourke! (Insincere smile but still waving).

 And finally, from Texas, here to pitch an unusual and radical idea called “libertarianism”, US Representative and aspiring Republican presidential candidate, “Dr No” himself, Ron Paul!  (Weak but humble smile).

 Each candidate will present his case, but the others can offer useful criticism and insights.  We’ll start with Professor Trotsky, who takes a seat opposite Mr. Carter. 

 “Good evening, comrade.  I understand you have kept your job at the Ford plant despite the recent economic problems.”

“Sure have.  I’m Ok.”

“Good.  For a moment there, it was fairly scary, wouldn’t you say?”

“I suppose so.”

“Good.  Do you believe the men running Ford, and the men in Washington, including President Obama himself, are looking out for you?”

“I don’t know.  I doubt it.  The union sticks by me.”

“I would hope so.  Wouldn’t you prefer it, though, if the entire country was set up to look out for your interests?  If the government took over Ford and ran it for your benefit?   In fact, the government would run everything.”

Carter looks uncertain.  “Everything??”

“Yes, there would be no private companies at all.  You would be guaranteed a job, health insurance, a place to live.  No worries at all.”

Carter remains skeptical.  “One big huge government?”

“Yes, Mr. Carter.  You see, Ford, GM, all those big companies have gotten too big.  We need to get rid of them.  We’ll have the government run everything.  For you, of course.  That is, for the working men and women of America.  On their behalf.”

“What if I don’t like what the government is doing?”

P.J. O’Rourke butts in.  “Then you can talk to the secret police.  They’ll throw you in a labor camp…without a trial.”  Shock and alarm from Carter.  Moore keeps quiet, but Paul smiles.

Trotsky regains his composure.  “Democracy has had its day and failed, Mr. Carter.  As it is today in America, corporations control the elections and decide who your candidates can be.  Whoever you vote for, big business has already bought and paid for.  Why talk of a choice under those circumstances?”  He smirks at O’Rourke and Paul.  Even so, Carter is still not happy.

“So who is going to run this government?”

O’Rourke interrupts again.  “Well, it won’t be you.  It will be a small group of guys like Trotsky here who know what’s best for you.  Not workers, of course.  And if you don’t like it, too bad.  And if you raise your voice and complain, you’ll get a visit in the middle of the night.  Bye bye!”   

Trotsky replies.  “I understand your concern, Mr. Carter.  But it will not be this way forever.  After years of dictatorship, the state will disappear and we’ll have a stateless society, from each according to his ability, to each according to his need.  Communism.  No more government, no more secret police, no more labor camps to re-educate the bourgeois to be nice, humble workers.”

“…and WHEN will this happen?” O’Rourke asks.  “HOW will this happen?”

“In the future.  We don’t know when or how.  But it will happen.”  Only Trotsky is satisfied with this explanation.

“Has it ever happened anywhere in the world?  Russia?  China?  Cuba?  North Korea?”  O’Rourke smiles as he mentions these countries.

“Not yet, but it will.  Someday.”

Trotsky’s arrogance can’t overcome O’Rourke’s warnings.  Carter is not sold. “I don’t think I like that idea, Mr. Trotsky.  I’ll hear what Moore has to say.”  Trotsky gets up and leaves, upset.  

 Michael Moore sits down in the chair opposite Carter.

“How about those Red Wings, huh?”

“Meh.”  Since they didn’t win the Stanley Cup this year, Carter isn’t excited.

Sensing Carter’s ambivalence, Moore starts his pitch anyway.  “You’ve heard Mr. Trotsky.  I don’t want a dictatorship like he does.  I think the system works fine the way it does.  It just needs some help.  Big business needs to be slammed into the boards every now and then.  No labor camps, no secret police, we still have elections, you can keep your guns, your pickup, and everything else.  But if you go with me, here’s what you get….

“FREE healthcare!  No dicking around with insurance companies.  None of this ‘previous condition’ crap.  You’ll have a pension, you’ll have unemployment benefits, you’ll have disability, maternity leave, all of that.  All for free.  No one’s going to lay you off and send your job overseas.  It’s fantastic.  They already have this in Europe, and it works!”

Carter now looks much more excited.  “No KGB?  No gulags?”

Moore smiles.  “Nope!”  He’s smug.  Very smug.

O’Rourke interrupts again, with his familiar nasty smile.  “Tell him about the taxes.”  Carter perks up cautiously, as if he knew what Moore was promising was somehow too good to be true.

Moore gets very nervous and evasive.  “Taxes might be a little higher.”

“How much higher?”  Carter asks, very wary.

“Try 80% and higher.  To start.  And at the top it’s close to 100%.”  O’Rourke had to say it, because Moore would never admit it.

“80%????” Carter is really upset now.  And he’s pissed at Moore.  “What kind of fast one are you trying to pull on me??”  Moore just shrugs, looking irritated but also guilty.  “I’ve heard enough.  Get out.”  Moore gets up and leaves, petulantly.

 O’Rourke sits down.  “Ok, my part is easy.  I’m simply selling you the system you already have now.  You can get laid off.  You have crappy health insurance… if you have any at all.  No gulags, no secret police.  And if, by some miracle,” his eyes twinkle, “you hit the jackpot, you get to keep most of it.  Not all of it, but most of it.  Your taxes are what you pay now.  Nothing like 80%,” he scoffs.

Carter thinks.  “I’m not all that happy with what we have now, but I don’t want a police state and I don’t want to pay 80% taxes just to get free health care.”

O’Rourke smiles.  “I didn’t think so.”

Carter nods.  “Ok, let me hear what this Dr No guy has to say.”  O’Rourke gets up and lets Ron Paul sit down.

 Ron Paul meekly nods and takes his seat.  “I’ll keep it simple.  No Federal Reserve.  No taxes.  I’ll legalize drugs, prostitution and gambling.  The government will shrink to just the police and military, and we’ll be out of Afghanistan, Europe, all those other places.  In fact, it will be so small, you’ll hardly even know it exists.”

Carter is stunned.  “How will we pay for all this?”

Paul comes clean.  “I suppose I should clarify.  I mean no income taxes, no IRS, and no Social Security.  There will be a few sales taxes and things like that, but the burden would be much smaller.  And with the military not fighting wars all over the world, it won’t need to be as large or expensive as what we have now.   We can also sell off Federal property.   Of course, if marijuana is legal we can tax it and make money that way.”

“Roads?”  Moore smirks, regaining some composure.

“Gas taxes and tolls,” replies Paul.  “The New Jersey Turnpike predates the federal highway system, was built completely with private money and opened on time.  If it works in New Jersey it can work elsewhere.  Toll roads have gotten much more convenient with EZPass.  But if you don’t like tolls, gas taxes can pay for roads too.  You pay when you fill up at the pump.  And if you’re not driving anywhere and not buying gas, you don’t have to pay for the roads.”

Carter isn’t quite sold.  “If this is so good, why haven’t I heard of it before?”

Paul now shows his familiar obvious resentment, bitterness, and petulance.  “Because most of the media tends to sympathize with Michael Moore’s viewpoint, and those that don’t almost always support O’Rourke’s position.  No one takes my ideas seriously because they don’t think it will work.  So they write me off as a crackpot and call me names.  I do have other positions besides auditing the Federal Reserve, but you wouldn’t know it from ABC, NBC, CBS, CNN, NPR, MSNBC, or Fox.”  Paul takes his seat and the chair in front of Carter is now empty.  Now it’s time for him to choose.  Which of these 4 men represents the America that John Carter, the American worker, really wants the most?  If it were up to John Carter, who would run America?

 Carter now is extremely indecisive.  He thinks out loud.

“I don’t want this ‘dictatorship of the proletariat.’ Who knows when we’ll get communism.  Maybe never.  It just sounds like an excuse for you to take over and run everything.  I don’t like that.  I’m out.”

Carter then turns to Michael Moore.  “I might go for your system…were it not for those horrendous taxes.  I’m out.”

He turns to O’Rourke.  “Don’t think you’ve sold me, O’Rourke.  I am not happy now.  And I don’t know how it would get any better.  In fact, I do want change.  I want to try what Ron Paul is offering.  It seems like the only one we haven’t tried yet, anywhere.  It has no track record for failure, because it’s never been done.  So I’ll go with Dr. No on this one.”

 There you have it, John Carter has made his decision: Ron Paul.  The rest of America can text in your choices: 001 for North Korea (Trotsky), 002 for IKEA America (Moore), 003 Business as Usual (O’Rourke), and 004 for It’s 4:20 in America (Paul).  Standard text messaging rates may apply. 

The Olympics

Last weekend I was in the mall, and saw that GAP was selling T-shirts with past Olympic logos.  Paris 1924, L.A. 1932, Montreal 1976…curiously, no sign of Berlin 1936.  Sorry, we’re all out.

 By which I should clarify, that with a few exceptions, most of my comments herein apply to the Summer games.  I’ve been watching some of the London games, with varying degrees of regularity and diligence.  The events I’ve been watching most have been women’s gymnastics and swimming, mainly the ones NBC has been throwing at us, probably because of Michael Phelps and because the US womens’ gymnastic team is dominant this time around (they’re also pretty cute).  I don’t recall China being this competitive at prior games; in Beijing they won the most gold medals, while the US had the top total.

 Here are the listings (summer games):

 1896     Athens, Greece

1900     Paris, France

1904     St. Louis, USA

1908     London, UK

1912     Stockholm, Sweden

1916     WWI games between Central Powers and Allied Powers

1920     Antwerp, Belgium

1924     Paris, France

1928     Amsterdam, Holland

1932     Los Angeles, USA

1936     Berlin, Germany

1940     WWII Games between Axis and Allies

1944     WWII Games between Axis and Allies

1948     London, UK

1952     Helsinki, Finland

1956     Melbourne, Australia

1960     Rome, Italy

1964     Tokyo, Japan

1968     Mexico City, Mexico

1972     Munich, West Germany

1976     Montreal, Canada

1980     Moscow, USSR

1984     Los Angeles, USA

1988     Seoul, South Korea

1992     Barcelona, Spain

1996     Atlanta, USA

2000     Sydney, Australia

2004     Athens, Greece

2008     Beijing, China

2012     London, UK

2016     Rio de Janeiro, Brazil

 Starting with 1994 Winter Olympics in Lillehammer, Norway, the Winter Games began being staggered at 2 years – same years as the World Cup.   If I pay scant attention to the Summer Games, I pay almost no attention to the Winter Games, regardless of whether US athletes are competitive in the particular event or not.

 I was too young to have watched the Munich games in 1972 (and wasn’t even born in 1968) so the 1976 games in Montreal were the first ones I remember.  I vaguely recall seeing Nadia Comaneci on TV when I was 7 years old.  She’s still a celebrity in Romania, though she doesn’t seem to do much these days except be a celebrity.  Let’s see Paris Hilton or Kim Kardashian get a 10 in gymnastics.

 1980.  We boycotted the Moscow games, and beat the Russkis in hockey at the Winter Games in Lake Placid.  Woohoo!

1984.    L.A.  We watched these at my aunt & uncle’s house in McLean, as they had air conditioning, a modern luxury which one Foreign Service family, living on McArthur Blvd. in DC, felt was unnecessary (it wasn’t us).  Mary Lou Retton availed herself of Nadia’s former coach to score a 10.  The East Bloc boycotted these games in retaliation for ours in 1980, except for Ceaucescu, who sent the Romanians to L.A. anyway.

1988.    Seoul.  ZZZ.

1992.    Barcelona.  NBA players finally allowed to compete in basketball >> “Dream Team”.  ZZZ for me, I don’t watch basketball anyway.

1996.    Atlanta.  Years later, the FBI finally nabbed Eric Rudolph, the real bomber.  Sorry, Mr. Jewell.

2000.    Sydney.  ZZZ.

2004.    Athens.  ZZZ.

2008.    Beijing.  ZZZ.

2012.    London.  Not quite ZZZ, more like Z.

 Germans.  In 1930, to make up for the 1916 games which had been scheduled for Berlin (but cancelled due to everyone fighting World War I) the IOC gave the Germans the Olympic games in Berlin in 1936 (and the Winter Games in Garmisch), which Adolf Hitler took advantage of when 1936 rolled by.  Jesse Owens, however, didn’t fully cooperate and embarrassed Hitler by winning a few medals.  However, the Germans still won the most gold medals and overall medals.  This would have been a fun series to watch, if only we could substitute these games for the 2012 games on TV.  How about that – select WHICH Olympics you want to watch.  Get working on it, ESPN wizards.

            Likewise, drama unfolded in Munich in 1972 – another group of sickos wasted the Israeli team.  Fortunately the Israelis tracked down the rest of the killers (see “Munich”).  In other news, Mark Spitz excelled at swimming and Olga Korbut (USSR) wowed in gymnastics. 

 Winter Olympics Highlights.  First held in 1924 at Chamonix, France (home of Mont Blanc).  The 1936 games were held in Garmisch, which I visited for skiing in 1990 with my brother and best friend.  As mentioned above, we won in hockey in 1980.  The 1994 Lillehammer Games were the ones immediately after the Tonya Harding & Nancy Kerrigan scandal.  Kerrigan won the silver behind Oksana Baiul (Ukraine) who won the gold.  The major Winter events are figure skating and skiing – hardly luge (Norm McDonald: “there is no such thing as professional luge”) or bobsled (even for Jamaicans). 

 The games themselves vary in interest level to me.  I’m not really much of a sports guy.  I do NOT digest all those statistics, nor do I feel testicularly compelled to “get into” literally EVERY sport (with an American jingo-bonehead conspicuous ignorance of soccer, though when I lived in France I was guilty of this willful ignorance).  So I’m scarcely more inclined to watch the Olympics than any other sporting event – less so, in fact, than the World Cup.  Speaking of which, despite 5 World Cup victories, Brazil has never won the gold medal in soccer at the Olympics.  No one can explain this. 

            I would suggest that anyone else simply watch what you want to watch, and ignore everything else.  You have NO patriotic duty to watch Americans compete in any sport.  Surely they won’t notice if you zone out back home (“OMG, Gabby Douglas fell off the balance beam because someone in America changed the channel!”). 

            At an abstract level, the athletes compete at such a high level, so far beyond my capabilities, that they may as well be aliens.  That makes them…sometimes interesting to watch.  What I don’t see is any nationalism entering the equation for the athletes themselves.  When you get down to swimming, gymnastics, basketball, etc. all sports are ultimately sports and apolitical.  It’s the spectators watching, waving the flags, who inject that element into the sport.  The athletes themselves don’t seem to care.  All they care about is winning – not for their country, not for their families, or their coaches, or their hometowns, but for themselves.  Which is as it should be.

            I suppose a political argument could be raised about results.  In the past, East Germany was notorious for doping its female athletes with steroids (remember Joe Piscopo?).  I’m not sure the Chinese haven’t upped the ante this time around.  But those who argue in favor of statist regimes [these people do exist today, Michael Moore is at the top…though he lacks the intellectual honesty to admit it] should observe how strong the First World countries, especially the US, do at the Olympics.  That a brutal regime that doesn’t care about individuals should be able to bludgeon its children and citizens into top class athletes is not much of a surprise.  Reward them with benefits the ordinary proletariat never sees and hold their families hostage at gunpoint to assure gold medals.  All well and fine.  Then how do these fat, lazy, decadent Westerners do so well?  Let’s see: the Soviets dominated the medal counts in 1956, 1960, 1972, 1976, and 1988.  The USA dominated in 1948, 1952, 1968, 1996, 2000, and 2004, with 1964 split and 1980 and 1984 being obvious outliers due to the mutual boycotts.  Really, the analysis should combine together all First World medals (not just USA) and all communist countries (not just the USSR), ignoring minor spats like Yugoslavia and Red China.  I don’t have the patience to figure that out. 

            By the way, I’m not aware that the Vatican ever sends a team to the Olympics…but Iran does.  Islam beats Catholicism at the Olympics.  So we’ll root for Israel.  Close enough.

            Finally, don’t get me started about “McDonalds”-themed America-bashing.  The next fast-food-obese US athlete I see will be the first.  Michael Phelps and Jordyn Wieber don’t seem to worship at the Golden Arches, though Phelps’ herbal preferences don’t seem to have impacted his abilities in the pool.  I’m not aware that tobacco smokers are well-represented in his sport. 

            Let’s go US!  And if we don’t win in London, there’s Rio in four years.  

White Collar vs Burn Notice

I’ve noticed these days that many of these drama shows, as opposed to sitcoms, tend to follow a certain format.  2/3 of the content of the show is for that particular episode, whereas 1/3 (often tacked on at the end) deals with some underlying, ongoing plot which continues week after week, probably to sustain viewer interest over the course of the season and from one season to the next.  In “NCIS: LA” it’s about Chris O’Donnell’s character’s alleged Romanian origins (stupid cryptic small old woman talking in clues), whereas in “Person of Interest” the story is how the pair’s spy network of surveillance cameras around Manhattan was originally developed.  But I only watch those shows if they’re in front of me at the gym while I’m huffing and puffing away on the treadmill; neither interests me enough to watch at home or anywhere else, and certainly not enough to rent on DVD.

 Two similar shows I do watch, mainly on DVD from Netflix, are “White Collar” and “Burn Notice.”  Since I’m so far behind on them (both only recently finished the first seasons) I focus on the DVDs and ignore the current seasons.

 White Collar (cable show on USA Network, on its fourth season now) is basically “to catch a thief” set in New York City.  A talented forger, Neal Caffrey (Matt Bomer), escaped from prison to find his girlfiend Kate, who disappeared but continually teases him with cryptic and mostly annoying clues.  In the meantime he assists the FBI White Collar division in catching various white collar criminals, particularly in the art theft and forgery dept., an area he knows a lot about.  His handler is a hopelessly square “suit”, Peter Burke (Tim DeKay), though Burke’s wife Elizabeth (Tiffany Thiessen) is pretty hot.  Each episode is Caffrey’s opportunity to help the FBI nab yet another classy criminal.  Caffrey has some help from his friend Mozzie (Willie Garson, probably best known as Carrie’s gay friend Stanford on “Sex and the City”, though this particular character appears asexual).  While I do enjoy the individual episodes, they’ve utterly failed at arousing my interest in whether Neal finds Kate or not.  ZZZ.  I’m not enthralled with Neal and Kate is too ephemeral and elusive to be attractive.  Enough already.

 Burn Notice (cable show, also on USA Network, now on its sixth season) is more of a spy thing.  Michael Westen (Jeffrey Donovan) is a former CIA officer who was “burned” (abruptly fired) while on business in Lagos, Nigeria.  He made it back to Miami, Florida, where he’s essentially stuck.  He has no credit, no assets, no legal existence but will be remain unmolested and left alone so long as he stays in Miami.  His good friend, retired FBI agent Sam (Bruce Campbell) is assigned to babysit him and make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid; against his better judgment, he also helps Westen out on jobs.  Campbell has packed on considerable mass since “Army of Darkness” (so have I).  Another friend Fiona (Gabrielle Anwar) keeps him company, assists him on jobs, but can’t seem to get him to commit to a relationship (although he doesn’t seem interested in anyone else).  I find her too emaciated to be attractive.  Westen narrates the show in the first person and explains much of what he’s doing in terms of security and spycraft.   Westen’s trade gave him a hefty array of useful skills, which he employs on various “jobs” for people, mainly “A-Team” type “damsel in distress” or “stick up for the underdog” assignments, all on a cash basis; he bumps ugly with a wide variety of very nasty, violent and dangerous bad guys.  His mom (Sharon Gless) is a source of support but also frustration.  He eats yogurt and drives a ’71-74 black Dodge Charger (inherited from his late father).  Meanwhile he tries (so far unsuccessfully, but I’ve only finished season 1) to find out who “burned” him and why.   

 Both Neal and Michael by nature frequently and easily assume a whole host of fictitious identities, many times on the fly.  Since they’re both on the same network, a crossover show might be cool, but it would mean Peter and Neal going to Miami.  Let’s work on it, people!

 Oddly, I like Burn Notice far more than White Collar.  Not only do I relate more to Westen (spy) than Caffrey (thief) but I also enjoy Westen’s quest to clear his name rather than Kate’s annoying games.  Then there’s the location: I’ve been to NYC dozens of time and my father’s side of the family is from there; as for Miami, I’ve only been there on two trips to Rio and never left the airport itself.  Miami reminds me of Rio, although it more closely resembles Recife.  Most likely I’m simply bored with NYC and curious about Miami.       

Beetle Bailey

I finally finished off a two disc set of animated cartoons of the popular (still?) comic strip Beetle Bailey.  With the exception of a bonus episode (unaired TV special from 1989), all of these were short clips (10 minutes) from 1963-65.   With a few exceptions, most of the major characters were present. 

 Growing up, this comic strip was by far my favorite.  I’ve always been a big buff of the military despite being consigned to civilian oblivion by my substandard hearing.  We purchased a few paperback collections in the 70s when I was growing up, but I tried to follow it in the newspaper whenever possible.

 Beetle Bailey.  Always a private: he suffered such flak from his comrades on a promotion to PFC that he managed to get himself busted down to private again.  Also, always a slacker, perpetually devoted to finding ways to sleep and avoid work, much to the annoyance of his commander, Sgt. Snorkel.  Also, his eyes are always obscured, either with the standard Army cap or the steel helmet.  (Note: the helmet shape hasn’t changed even after the Army adopted the Kevlar “Fritz” type helmet in the 1980s). 

In the animated series he has a girlfriend, “Bunny”.  He’s the younger brother of “Lois”, from “Hi & Lois”. 

 Sgt. Snorkel.  The quintessential “NCO” (non commissioned officer aka “no chance outside”).  Gruff, aggressive, overweight, and somewhat of a belligerent bully…but that’s his job.  His dog, Otto, is his only friend.  The Army is his home: sent off-base on a furlough, he invariably returns early.

 Other enlisted men: 

Zero.  Dimwitted, buck-toothed farmboy – but likable nonetheless for his innocent good nature.

Killer.  Slim mustache, always on the lookout for female companionship; he fancies himself a ladies man.

Rocky.  Kind of a wiseass, a biker, delinquent, anti-authority weasel.  He runs Camp Swampy’s newspaper and is constantly making the officers look bad. 

Plato.  The over-intelligent private, somewhat of an overweight philosopher.

Cosmo.  He has a far stronger role in the animated series than I recall from the strip: he always has a card game or scam going on – a real Sgt. Bilko type.

Cookie. The mess hall chef.  He always wears a dirty wife beater and has cauliflower ears.

Corporal Yo.  A very recent addition, likely due to PC pressure to add an Asian character.  Yo is very much an overachiever, the opposite of Beetle.

Gizmo.  Another recent addition: sort of a nerdy tech guy who can explain to General Halftrack what email and websites are.

 Officers.

Lt. Fuzz.  In the animated series, they give him a southern drawl (is that how they talk in Missouri?).  He’s the typical young, fresh, second lieutenant who pulls rank even if it’s clear Sgt. Snorkel knows far more than he does.  Remarkably, Mort Walker disclosed that his own alter-ego was Lt. Fuzz.

Lt. Flap.  The Afro-American officer.  He’s completely absent not only from the ’63-65 animated series, but also the newer bonus episode.

Captain Scabbard.  Walker once described the source officer as a drunk, but the cartoon version doesn’t do much except give Lt Fuzz orders from General Halftrack.

Major Greenbrass.  His only role seems to be to play golf with General Halftrack.

Chaplain Staneglass.  The Army chaplain (priest).  Usually nothing more than a source of counseling – a bit like Deanna Troi on STNG.  Father Mulcahy on “M*A*S*H” was probably the best portrayal of an Army chaplain (and I mean the TV William Christopher, not the movie Rene Auberjonois). 

General Halftrack.  What I recall most was his later form as somewhat of a washed up general forgotten by the Pentagon and lusting after Ms. Buxley (wouldn’t we all?)  The animated series tends to play him down as more of a sympathetic buffoon, whereas the later strips and the bonus episode give him the full Turtledove Custer treatment (big ego, dirty old man). 

 The ladies:

Ms. Blips.  The Army woman – very plain with no boobs.

Ms. Buxley.   Civilian secretary to General Halftrack, provocative and alluring.  Sort of the Joann (Mad Men) of the strip.

Sgt. Lugg.  Buxom female counterpart to Sgt. Snorkel, a more recent addition.

 The strip originated in 1950 with Beetle as a college student (U. Missouri knockoff, Rockview U.), who quickly joined the Army to impress chicks (this was Korean War time) and never left.  It’s always stateside at Camp Swampy, a typical CONUS (continental US) Army base where combat is nonexistent.  Even through Vietnam and the Gulf War, no mention is really made of foreign conflicts.  Really, the strip is supposed to portray the peacetime Army as a dull place where nothing really happens.  Although the humor is mostly fairly tame, it is remarkable that Walker has been able to stretch this premise as long as he has.  Long before Jerry Seinfeld gave us “a TV show about nothing”, Walker gave us humor on an otherwise dull and boring Army base…for over 60 years.

Elric of Melnibone

A few months ago I finished re-reading this saga for the third time.  These were fantasy stories written by Michael Moorcock in the 1960s.  I had originally read them in high school, long before digesting Tolkien or Robert E. Howard, so for a long time they were my standard for fantasy fiction.

 The main series consists of six silver (or white, depending on the publisher) small paperback books:

 Elric of Melnibone.  We’re introduced to the initial set of major characters:  Elric, Yyrkoon, and Cymoril, and the setting:  a fantasy world where Chaos & magic predominate; law, which takes the form of reason, logic, and science, is extremely weak, and the Lords of Law, while they do exist, are essentially banished to other planes, whereas the Lords of Chaos tend to be widely worshipped and acknowledged, and even appear in person several times, mostly Elric’s own patron deity, Arioch.  In particular, the two major countries, Melnibone and Pan Tang, worship Chaos, while none of the upstart Young Kingdoms appear to worship Law. 

            By this point, Melnibone, an island empire run by decadent sorcerors, has been in decline for centuries, and the former vassal states of humans, contemptuously referred to as the Young Kingdoms, have gained their independence and are beginning to flex their muscles.  Although still not yet fully capable of defeating Melnibone itself – which is protected by long-sleeping dragons which breathe napalm – they are moving in that direction.  In particular, Melnibone’s major rival, Pan Tang, is developing its sorcerous powers and cultivating a tighter relationship with the Lords of Chaos in order not merely to challenge Melnibone’s supremacy but to take over the entire world, on behalf of Chaos itself.  Melnibone and Pan Tang are loosely analogous to early 20^th century England and Germany, respectively.  Some of the Young Kingdoms have Earthly analogies, but this whole element is so attenuated, that it’s clear Moorcock was less interested in making any real political statements and more interested in simply using the world he knew as a convenient basis for his fantasy land, nothing more. 

             Elric himself starts off as the Emperor of Melnibone, but he is an albino, weak and unable to do much without sorcery and drugs.  Moreover, he’s moody and introspective, and doesn’t blindly accept centuries worth of brutal hegemony and depravity at face value.  His cousin Yyrkoon, who has no such scruples or doubts, covets the throne himself – “if you’re not willing to wield Melnibone’s vast power to corrupt and enslave the world, why don’t I take over?” - and barely bothers to conceal his ambition or contempt.  Elric is dating Yyrkoon’s sister Cymoril, and hopes to make her empress one day.  But fate has other plans…

            After Yyrkoon kidnaps Cymoril and takes her to the remote and primitive land of Oin & Yu, Elric follows them with the aid of the Ship of Land and Sea.  Eventually Elric has to chase Yyrkoon into a shade dimension, where he finds Stormbringer, a greater demon bound into the form of a huge, black sword.  The sword eats the souls of those he slays, excreting the magic energy into strength for Elric to enjoy without having to rely upon the drugs and sorcery (unreliable and far less effective) he used before.  But the sword also has a mind of its own, and is never completely under Elric’s control; is he its master or its slave? In particular, it has a nasty habit of impaling itself into the friend standing closest to Elric. This tends to give Elric a bad reputation, though doesn’t seem to affect his ability to find companions, lovers or adventures.

 Sailor on the Seas of Fate.  Elric leaves Melnibone run by Yyrkoon – despite everyone’s advice to the contrary – and goes off to explore the Young Kingdoms in one of these “finding myself before college” type of deals, albeit considerably more complex and dangerous than backpacking around Europe.  Fortunately he has Stormbringer to assist him.  Three separate adventures:  the 4 who are 1 (Eternal Champions cameo, part 1), Saxif D’aan, and R’len K’ren Aa.

 Weird of the White Wolf.   Elric leads the Young Kingdoms fleet to Imryrr; they loot the city, then get wiped out by the Dragon Riders on the way back.  In a heated confrontation deep inside the city, Elric ends up killing not only Yyrkoon, but also Cymoril as well – both victims of Stormbringer’s appetite for souls, both good and evil.

            Elric meets Moonglum, and from then on they are inseparable companions.  While Elric has his head in the clouds, pondering issues of fate, destiny, death, love, etc., Moonglum manages the pair’s finances and makes sure they have a place to sleep that night and food to eat. 

 The Vanishing Tower.  Elric meets the Burning God in Nadsokor (city of thieves and beggars), meets up with the other Eternal Champions (cameo part 2), finds Tanelorn (a magic, neutral city of peace) and FINALLY dispaches Theleb Ka’arna, a nasty sorcerer he’d been butting heads with ever since they competed for the affections of Queen Yishana.

 Bane of the Black Sword.  Back to Tanelorn, and he hooks up with Zarozinia, his last girlfriend.  [According to the Stormbringer stats, she is 10 years old, but the story describes her as no younger than her late teens.]

 Stormbringer.  Everything gets tidied up!  While the prior two books were on auto-pilot and don’t have much strategic value in the series, the final book does move things along in a dramatic fashion.  In particular, the Gods of Law, previously practically nonexistent in the series, now decide to emerge from literary obscurity and assist Elric.  He battles the armies of Chaos, who are led by the Theocrat of Pan Tang, Jagreen Lern.  The ultimate outcome is…well, I consider it worth wading through the six book series to get here.

 These are the main six books.  There are two more, plus a trilogy, which don’t really fit into this:  Elric at the Edge of Time (somewhat psychedelic but not very entertaining) and Fortress of the Pearl, which is enjoyable in its own right.  The latter sets up the Dreamthief trilogy, which is very recent, but promises only a more tangential role for Elric. 

 Eternal Champion.  Moorcock couldn’t leave well enough alone, and created 3 other “champions”: Erekose, Hawkmoon, and Corum.   Of these Erekose has only one book, The Silver Warriors, written in the first person.  Corum has a set of six (two trilogies: The Knight of the Swords, The Queen of the Swords, The King of the Swords; and The Bull and the Spear, The Oak and the Ram, The Sword and the Stallion), which are very similar to Elric’s.  His deal is he’s lost a hand and an eye, both of which are replaced with magical artifacts.  I recall an SNL skit parodying Steven King’s amazing ability to churn out horror novels seemingly automatically – the pages fly out of his typewriter.  For me, the Corum stories were like that, Moorcock’s fantasy system reduced to a set of repetitive and forgettable books.  Hawkmoon was a little better (The Jewel in the Skull, The Mad God’s Amulet, The Sword of the Dawn, and The Runestaff).  These are set in a “fantasy Europe” with “Grenbretan” as the arch-villain nation.  After the disappointment with the Corum series, I was expecting to dislike the Hawkmoon stories, but I found them to be quite enjoyable – except the very end, which was extremely disappointing.  

 In fact, realizing that his own fiction had become somewhat self-parodying, Moorcock went a step further to develop the Jerry Cornelius series (which I have not read, but plan on doing). 

 Stormbringer, the roleplaying game.  Similar to RuneQuest (also made by Chaosium), this allowed you to make an Elric wanna-be character, though Mournblade (Stormbringer’s twin sword) was off-limits.  My top character was a grotesquely powerful Melnibonean sorcerer, Jermyn Relic, thanks to a poorly designed scenario, “Hall of Risk”.  The game was well-supplied with scenarios, but I don’t recall any of them having the same cosmic impact as Elric himself; the idea was to play IN his world, without changing anything which actually happened.  A clever DM could have arranged a meeting with Elric, but chances are your character would probably lose the fight.  On the other hand, perhaps Jermyn Relic would have had a fighting chance….

 Moorcock and Hawkwind.  Leaving aside the two songs Moorcock co-wrote with Blue Oyster Cult, “Great Sun Jester” from Mirrors and “Black Blade” on Cultosaurus Erectus (for all its brevity, however, the song nevertheless nicely sums up Elric’s issues), Moorcock’s main musical relationship was with Hawkwind.  He wrote several of their spoken word songs, e.g. “Sonic Attack” and “The Black Corridor”, and inspired an entire concept album devoted to Elric, The Chronicle of the Black Sword.  Moorcock is often described as being as much a member of the band as Stacia or Bob Calvert, in a role like Robert Hunter (Grateful Dead) or Peter Sinfield (King Crimson).

 Elric vs. Conan.  Robert E. Howard was writing in a small town in Texas, mostly in the early 1930s, during the Great Depression, when most people would probably enjoy escaping into fantasy worlds far away from unemployment and starvation.  I keep hearing about “Conan seeks to regain his lost throne of Cimmeria” and similar Aragornesque allusions, but somehow I must have missed the story where this is explained, and I’ve read most of the original Conan stories.  In fact, even when offered to share a throne with a lusty queen or empress, Conan declines, and goes off on his own again for more adventures.  The man cannot be tied down.  I really see no evidence that he’s anything more than a lone adventurer who makes his own rules and goes his own way.  Nor does he ever speak of destiny, fate, or anything of that nature.  Conan is the ultimate man of action: he simply goes out and does things.  If they were ever to team up together, Conan would probably smack Elric in the face and say, “Stop asking silly questions with no answers.  Just go out and do.  If this is indeed your destiny, you’ll wind up doing it anyway.  If it’s not, you can do as you please.  So why ask?”

 Elric vs. LOTR.  Likewise, “fate and destiny” don’t appear to be an element in Lord of the Rings.  Frodo and Sam take the Ring to Mount Doom not because Gandalf or someone else told them, “it is your destiny”, but because “it would be really bad if Sauron got hold of this, so it needs to be done, and someone needs to do it.  Tag, you’re it.”  Tolkien falls short of implying the mission is guaranteed to succeed.  On the other hand, for all of Tolkien’s rich linguistic and cultural background for Middle Earth, even The Silmarilliion is very vague about who the gods and deities of Middle Earth are….if any.  Is Sauron the Devil?  Or simply a vastly powerful being of evil?  Who is God?  Are there gods?  No real answers.  All the most powerful magical beings disappear into self-imposed exile and/or retirement in the Grey Havens (whatever, and wherever, they are), and non-human races either die off or – as the hobbits do – simply seem to converge with humanity.  

            However, despite the absence of Lords of Law, Lords of Chaos, a “balance”, etc. there is “good” and “evil” in Middle Earth and not merely a difference of viewpoints; Tolkien was not a moral relativist.  The good guys fight for what they know to be good against what they know to be evil; good is indeed good, and evil is indeed evil.  Aside from Sauron, Tolkien simply doesn’t identify or personify these forces into tangible deities who can be summoned (“blood and souls for my lord Arioch”) or appear for whatever reason.  

            I find it difficult to decide, between Elric and Lord of the Rings, which is better.  Suffice to say that they are different, and both are very good.

 As yet, none of Moorcock’s stories have been made into movies.   Since the Elric stories are his most famous and popular, I would think those would be first; much has been made of the stark contrast between Elric and Conan, and the latter by now has had no less than three movies.  Likewise, not only has Peter Jackson adapted LOTR to the big screen – successfully – even Tolkien’s more childlike prequel, The Hobbit, is due to be released  (I won’t hold my breath for a Silmarillion movie).  For Elric himself as a character, I’d be inclined to cast Stuart Townsend in the role, if not Orlando Bloom.  But we’ll have to see what happens.  The colossal failure of the “John Carter” film, a good story with a solid literary background, may be scaring the money away from an Elric project.  Stay tuned.  

Uriah Heep

By this I don’t mean the Charles Dickens character from David Copperfield (though I will discuss him briefly), but rather the English rock band from the 70s and still going strong as of 2012.

 Dickens.  Personally, I am fed up with “The Christmas Carol” and all the different variants thereof, of which the most notable were the Rich Little version, in which the impersonator turned various celebrities into CC characters, e.g. W.C. Fields as Scrooge and Paul Lynde as Bob Cratchit, or the more recent “American Carol” putting a Michael Moore type as Scrooge.  I’m also not keen on Great Expectations or Oliver Twist.  My favorite – and arguably his finest – was David Copperfield.

            The title character has a hard life, but some splotches of happiness and joy interrupt what would otherwise be yet another dreary, monotonous narrative, including brief periods growing up with his friend Agnes and her father Mr. Wickfield.  Unfortunately, Mr. Wickfield gets old and his assistant, Uriah Heep, begins taking advantage of him.  Heep is always overly polite yet very deceitful.  His “catchphrase” is “very ‘umble”, as if to say, “I know you don’t think much of me, so I’ll take advantage of this underestimation to trick and ruin you all.”  Eventually Copperfield exposes Heep and he’s sent off to prison where he belongs.  He’s a nasty creep, without even the charm of Othello’s Iago. 

 The band itself started in 1969, only indirectly taking the Dickens character as its inspiration: according to Classic Rock magazine, the name came when manager Gerry Bron noticed a roadie advertising his services under the stage name of Uriah Heep.  But given the title of the band’s first album, someone quickly discovered the original source.      

 Sound.  The 70s were a time when so-called “swords & sorcery” rock came into vogue.  Bands which later turned more mundane and mainstream metal – Rush, Scorpions, Judas Priest – were far more exotic and colorful at this time, case in point the albums Caress of Steel, Fly to the Rainbow, and Sad Wings of Destiny for the aforementioned bands, respectively.  Probably no band more epitomized this style than Heep: combine Mick Box’s bluesy riffing, Ken Hensley’s rich keyboards, and David Byron’s pedantic vocals and lyrics, and the recipe is complete.  No less than four album titles, Demons & Wizards, The Magician’s Birthday, Wonderworld, and Return to Fantasy, evoke that imagery as well.  Yet they sound different than Deep Purple (except: see below) or Led Zeppelin, the main “blues + keyboards” bands which generally get the most publicity and credit.

 Band members of the original, classic lineup.

Mick Box (guitarist) (far right).  Now the only consistent member in all lineups, its Tony Iommi.  He played SGs and Les Pauls, and has a very blues-based feel to his playing.  He’s actually quite likable and a nice guy.

 Ken Hensley (keyboards) (middle).  Early on he didn’t have much impact, but as the band developed, he contributed more and asserted more control – much to everyone else’s annoyance.  He eventually left the band in 1980.   Since then he’s been solo and still plays lots of Heep stuff. 

 David Byron (vocals)(left of Mick Box).  Very much the Ozzy Osbourne of the band, though considerably more articulate, by which I mean that although subsequent singers may have matched or exceeded his vocal abilities (doubtful), he will always be considered the “classic” vocalist for the band.  Like Ozzy, he considered himself a master showman.  He died in 1985 of alcohol/drug related illnesses, but he had been kicked out of Heep back in 1976 for being an intolerable asshole.  Fame and fortune went to his head, he refused to deal with his substance abuse issues, and they had no choice but to sack him.

 Gary Thain (bass)(far left).  Much less of a jerk than Byron, but he was fired in 1975 due to his drug issues and died shortly thereafter.  

Lee Kerslake (drums)(Thain’s right).  Nowadays he’s probably better known as the drummer for Ozzy Osbourne on the Blizzard of Ozz album.  After Ozzy he rejoined Heep.

 Honorable mentions:  Gerry Bron was the band’s manager and producer, its Sandy Pearlman (BOC) or Terry Knight (Grand Funk Railroad).  Definitely one of the more hands-on managers.  John Wetton, better known with King Crimson (Larks Tongues, Starless and Red) took over from Gary Thain for Return to Fantasy and  High and Mighty and juiced up the band considerably in the late 70s.  He left after Byron was sacked. 

 Albums

You can divide them into pre-D&W, D&W, post-D&W (Byron), and post-Byron.

Very ‘Eavy ,Very ‘Umble, Salisbury, Look At Yourself.  The first three albums saw the band developing its sound, rich and luxurious with lots of keyboards, blues-based rock guitar, flowery lyrics and harmonies, and some lengthy epics (“Salisbury” and “July Morning”).  Of these I much prefer Salisbury, due to “Time To Live” and “Simon the Bullet Freak” as well as the title track. 

 Demons and Wizards.   The peak album: from “The Wizard” to “The Spell” there is not a single bad song.  Every now and then a band knocks one out of the ballpark, and for Heep this was it.  Anyone starting out should definitely begin with this one.  If you don’t like D&W, you won’t like anything else.

 The Magician’s Birthday, Sweet Freedom, Wonderworld, Return to Fantasy, and High And Mighty.  It went downhill from D&W, but “past peak” is a relative term.  I only recently picked up these albums and listened to them, as Ken’s verdict (that of all things “cool” – perhaps not) was that these albums were not worth listening to.  Hmmm.  Well, none of them came close to matching D&W, but even High And Mighty, the last one with Byron singing, was still pretty damn good.  Classic Rock describes this period as massive infighting, personality conflicts between Ken Hensley and the rest of the band, personality conflicts between David Byron and the rest of the band, personality conflicts between Gerry Bron and the band, obscene amounts of drugs and alcohol, so much so that you wonder the albums ever saw the light of day, much less sound this good.  Methinks the band sold itself short in the article; not as good as D&W, but how could you top that?  Do we ignore Wish You Were Here, Animals and The Wall because we all agree Dark Side was Floyd’s “peak”?  Do we ignore the White Album and Abbey Road out of insane adulation of Sgt. Pepper?   Toss out Burn because it’s not Machine Head? I don’t think so.  So give these albums a chance. 

 Post-Byron.  I only have Wake the Sleeper, one of the more recent albums.  After sacking Byron in 1976, they struggled for 10 years to find a replacement, but finally managed to get the current singer, Bernie Shaw, in 1986, and he’s been with them ever since.  Shaw can sing well, but the current line-up actually sounds far less like Byron-era ‘Heep and more like a Deep Purple tribute band, which is ironic since Purple themselves are still around and sound less like their 70s selves than Heep do.  The other problem with current Heep – and for that matter, current Purple – is that both bands almost never tour the US; as of this writing Heep have a 4 date US tour scheduled for November 2012, whereas Purple is stuck in Europe.  Come on guys….