Alexander Hellene's Blog, page 12

Architectural Cruelty

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It’s a sad fact of life that everything is political. Everything. It doesn’t matter if you personally like this. It’s reality, and you can either accept reality as it is and act accordingly, or live in fantasy-land according to how you think the world ought to be. 

Architecture is but one aspect of this battleground, which is part of the reason I write about architecture from time to time. One, I find beautiful buildings inspiring and pleasing to the eye. Two, aesthetics matter and say something about the society of which they are a part of.

Writer Linh Dinh is an interesting fellow. This recent article about his travels through Belgrade, Serbia is of note not just because of Dinh’s rightful denouncement of the Bauhaus school of architecture.

The 20th century gave us world wars, atomic bombs, gulags, political correctness, napalm, canned music, Barbara Streisand, laugh tracks, American cheese, Israel and the absolutely shittiest, most inhumane architecture ever, and for this, we can thank Walter Gropius, above all.

Dinh’s article is also noteworthy because he nails the mentality that has infected much of the world, and that is if something comports with my political bent, then it must therefore be good regardless of the bad outcomes:

In a 2018 New Yorker article, Justin McGuirk has an entirely different take, “Strolling the avenues of New Belgrade, with its ranks of concrete tower blocks, it was not the architecture that drew my attention at first. It was my sense of comfort—the prevailing air of normality. In most of the mass-housing projects I have visited, whether in Europe, South America, New York, or Moscow, one is likely to be aware of one of two things: class or neglect (and often both). There were no class distinctions in New Belgrade because this was not social housing; it was just housing.”

Comfort, he says comfort! Clearly, we disagree.

McGuirk doesn’t just love Brutalism for its “heft and material honesty,” but for its association with “social democracy.” Not Communism, mind you. In the case of Yugoslavia, this “architecture expressed one of the great political experiments of the modern era.”

Sadly, America never quite embraced Brutalism. There is time. McGuirk laments, “Many of the heroic housing projects in the West became ghettoized, or were left to deteriorate—some classics have been demolished.”

Concrete apartments suspended in air sure beat kitschy bourgeoise dwellings. McGuirk, “I’ll always remember the mother of a friend from Sarajevo visiting her daughter in London and being relieved to find her living in a social-housing tower block, and not one of those poky Victorian houses—the exact inverse of London snobbery.”

Yugoslavia’s dictator for 35 years had at least 34 residences. Almost none of his villas, castles, palaces, seaside manors and mountainous hunting lodges were in the International Style. Tito was man of taste, elegance and class. He wasn’t crazy.

It’s a form of insanity. Look at this McGuirk dork:

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I guarantee he doesn’t live in an ugly concrete brutalist box. Neither do any of his friends. I’ll bet you anything they enjoy attractive surroundings, high property values, and don’t give a thought about the politics and wonderful concern for the working class that they rag on about when it’s for other people to live in. No, I’m sure he enjoys his excess storage space, room for a garden, and a place to put his cars that he owns.  

This type of stuff matters because it matters to the other people trying to impose their vision of the world on you. Concern about buildings sounds silly until you’re the one being shoved into a soulless concrete block or some glass-and-steel monstrosity. These faceless, joyless structures are designed to stamp out any and all semblance of tradition and culture while imposing the hell that is radican egalitarianism, what some call “socialism,” but which goes far beyond a mere economic system. It’s people storage. It’s utilitarianism. It’s disgusting and should be fought tooth and nail every step of the way.

So yeah, everything is political, whether you like it or not. Accept this reality and fight the war that’s already being fought against you, or get ready to live in Eastern City Gate.

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Aesthetics matter from cover design to page layout. My books are the complete package–which of course includes a great story.

Snark versus Banter

[image error]A great comment from Hardwicke Benthow on this post about sarcasm brought a very interesting writing distinction to the forefront. Here’s the discussion reproduced for your convenience:

Hardwicke Benthow

SEPTEMBER 13, 2020 AT 12:36 AM

What are your thoughts on 1930s-style wisecracking banter?

Here’s an example of the type that I mean:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pakoGI2hl14&w

Alexander Hellene

SEPTEMBER 13, 2020 AT 1:32 AM

Great clip! I LOVE that 30s-style banter because it sounds like ADULTS talking. Not a perpetual adolescent, ostensible adult’s facile impression of how they THINK adults speak.

Does that make sense?

Hardwicke Benthow

SEPTEMBER 13, 2020 AT 1:47 AM

“Does that make sense?”

Yes and no. There’s a difference between 1930s-style banter and that of the more modern variety, but I haven’t analyzed the nuances enough to quantify the precise differences. They both utilize witty comebacks and sarcasm, but there’s a different “flavor” about them. I’ve always found the banter in classic screwball comedies and mysteries particularly delicious.

As someone who is interested in writing period-piece novels with the type of banter seen in that clip, what would be your advice on how to keep banter in that spirit, and to keep it from veering into the Joss Whedon territory that you often criticize?

By the way, that clip is from the first Torchy Blane movie “Smart Blonde” (1937). The actress playing Torchy is Glenda Farrell. Jerry Siegel (co-creator of Superman) revealed that the personality of Lois Lane was inspired specifically by Glenda Farrell’s portrayal, although he separately based Lois’ name on Lola Lane (who also played Torchy Blane, albeit only once as opposed to Farrell’s seven times).

Alexander Hellene

SEPTEMBER 14, 2020 AT 12:26 PM

This is a tough question: what’s the dividing line between banter and snark? For a novel, it *might* be easier to thread the needle, because so much of what makes modern snark so annoying in movies and TV is the smarmy DELIVERY. Contrast something modern with the Torchy Blane clip you shared—in the clip, the characters sound like adults and talk like adults. That’s what I meant.

I suppose there’s also a difference between snarky, sarcastic comments and a witty retort that’s funny, sometimes flirtatious, and also moves the story forward. That sounds like a good thing to keep in mind when crafting such dialogue.

This is a great question, one where the sarcasm versus banter distinction might be impossible to accurately describe. It seems like something you just know when you see or hear it.

I’ll attempt anyway.

Sarcasm/snark is:

Constant and in every situation
Often relies on bathos (undercutting any serious situation with attempts at humor)
Trying too hard
Mean, nasty, and petty
Intended to hurt
Sounds like an adult’s version of what they think teenagers sound like
Often has nothing to do with the story; just there for comic relief

Banter is:

Situational
Often depend on the relationship between the characters
If between a man and woman, can be flirtatious and sexy
Playful/friendly
Sounds like adults talking
Typically not insulting
Furthers the story

Remember the golden rule of snark:

WHEN IN DOUBT, DON’T USE IT.

Witty comebacks and back-and-forth work better on screen than in print, but can still be used. Just make sure you use them judiciously and when they make sense, both situationally and character-wise.

And always, always, always only use if necessary.

My dialogue is awesome. Don’t listen to me: read the reviews.

Signal Boost: Prince of Shadows (The Covenant Chronicles, Book 3) by Benjamin Cheah

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Benjamin Cheah, aka Kai Wah Cheah, writes thinking-persons’ sci-fi/fantasy/thrillers. At long last, Book 3 of his Covenant Chronicles series is here: Prince of Shadows:

THE OLD GODS ARE COMING BACK!

When a black op goes awry, the Nemesis Project pulls deniable operator Luke Landon off the line. But while mortal authorities want him to stand down, the gods aren’t done with him yet.

Pressed into a secret war between infernal and divine powers, Landon is thrust into a new campaign. The elder gods are returning to do battle with the Unmaker—and they are choosing agents to carry out their will.

In Japan, a goddess has chosen a shrine maiden as her soldier. The shadowy Organization, the secret rulers of the world, have her in their sights. Without official sanction or backup, Landon and his allies must go rogue to save her.

Landon has always been prepared to lay down his life. But this time, he may just have to give up his immortal soul.

PRINCE OF SHADOWS is the third volume of The Covenant Chronicles, the supernatural Mil-SF series by Kai Wai Cheah, Hugo-nominated author of Flashpoint: Titan.

I’ve enjoyed the hell out of every book of Benjamin’s I’ve read (Dungeon Samurai especially). His characters are interesting and active, the action is intense, and he has a military man’s focus on firearms, tactics, and logistics that really sucks you into the world.

That’s in addition to all of the magic and monsters.

Check this series out at the beginning. You won’t be sorry. Buy it here.

Check my series out at the beginning too.

Movie Review: Bill and Ted’s Bogus Journey (1991)

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Seeing as how today, September 15, 2020, is the 29th anniversary of the legendary Wyld Stallyns concert that brought about world peace, it’s the perfect time to review Bill and Ted’s Bogus Journey.

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This movie is absolutely bonkers, in a nearly hallucinatory way. But that’s okay, because it’s just as full of humor and heart as its precessor. The same creative team behind the first movie is here–writers Chris Matheson (son of sci-fi legend Richard Matheson!) and Ed Solomon, and principal actors Alex Winter (BIll S. Preston, Esq.) and Keanu Reeves (Ted “Theodore” Logan), but director Stephen Herek is out and Pete Hewitt is in. This give the movie the same feel as the first, but with a different coat of paint, as it were. It’s like listening to two different bands play the same songwriter’s music, if that makes sense.

Anyway, as Brian Niemeier pointed out in his recent review of Bogus Journey, sequels tend to take two forms: You either tell the first story over again, or you take a risk. Bogus Journey does the latter. You see, instead of having to time-travel, our titular heroes have to travel through the afterlife, both the good parts and the bad. You see, evil robot versions of them from the future murder them in a bid to keep Wyld Stallyns from playing the concert . . . the one destined to change the world for the better and pave the way for the most triumphant future utopia we caught glimpses of in Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure and at the beginning of this one. The robots were created and sent back by the evil Chuck De Nomolos (Joss Ackland), who wants to impose his own fascistic vision on the society of the year 2691. Luckily, Bill and Ted’s mentor Rufus (George Carlin) is able to hitch a ride with Evil Bill and Ted through the circuits of time.

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Evil Bill and Evil Ted proceed to ruin our heroes’ relationships with the princesses Elizabeth (Annette Azcuy) and Joanna (Sarah Trigger) whom they have just proposed to, manage to off the duo by chucking them off a cliff in the desert, and then prepare to give De Nomolos’s speech that night at the Battle of the Bands where Wyld Stallyns were set to usher in an era of world peace. The plan is for De Nomolos’s words to guide society towards worshipping him instead.

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Bill and Ted must then contend with the Grim Reaper (William Sadler), travel through Hell in order to get to Heaven, beat the evil versions of themselves, thwart De Nomolos’s evil plans, rescue the princesses, and give the concert of a lifetime.

This movie is nuts, and I mean that in the best way possible. The very premise might be a comedy version of The Terminator franchise, and the idea that heavy metal music will change the world for the better is utterly preposterous but the execution is so good and all of the actors commit to the premise that you find yourself once again getting sucked into the world of Bill and Ted and rooting for these two simple-minded, yet brave and incredibly good-hearted goofballs.

I don’t know where to begin with Alex Winter and Keanu Reeves. like I said in my review of the first movie, they turn even the stupidest lines hilarious. The scene where they are falling down a deep, dark hole after getting banished to Hell by Missy–who divorced Bill’s dad and now married Ted’s dad–is a riot. Hell itself is appropriately freaky, even though it looks nothing like Bill and Ted’s heavy metal album covers. Keeping with the “dumb metalhead” theme, they attract Satan’s attention by making the sign of the devil, and ask if they can leave. The devil tells them they’ll leave all right. “Thanks!” sayd BIll. “You know, you’ve got a pretty bad rep up there!” Of course, the devil deceives them, sending them to their own personal hell including Colonel Oats, Granny S. Preston Esq., and an evil Easter bunny. My favorite line is this:

Bill: “Dude!”
Ted: “What?”
Bill: “Hell sucks!”
Ted: “Definitely!”

It shouldn’t be funny, but it is. I also like when Ted tells Satan to “Choose your own [eternity], you fag!’ I mean, HE CALLS THE DEVIL A FAG. Bill then calls Satan an “ugly, red, source of all evil!”

See, even though there is nothing religious in the movie, Bill and Ted recognize evil when they see it. They also recognize good. I love when they go to Heaven and mug three wise men in order to get an audience with God. They immediately confess, prefacing it with “As I’m sure you already know . . .” and then Ted proceeds to congratulate God on Earth. “It is a most excellent planet, one which I enjoy on a daily basis.” Bill complements the Almighty on his other planets like “Mars . . . Jupiter . . . Uranus.” air guitaring

How can you not laugh at that? Also, when they leave after God tells them who the most brilliant scientist is that will help them build good robot versions of themselves, they tell him “Catch you later, God!” Yes, Bill and Ted’s Bogus Journey might be one of the only big-budget Hollywood comedies I can think of that has God in it . . . and doesn’t mock Him or His followers. And it’s still funny!

William Sadler is brilliant as Death, speaking in a bizarre Eastern European accent and re-enacting the most famous part of The Seventh Seal, but instead of playing Chess against the Reaper for the fate of their immortal souls, Bill and Ted challenge Death to a game of Battleship. And win. Death demands best two-out-of-three. They play Clue . . . and Bill and Ted win again. Best three-out-of-four. Bill and Ted beat him at electronic football. “Let me guess, best four-out-of-seven?” say our exasperated heroes. “Damn right!” hollers Death, before losing at Twister and finally granting the boys’ the right to return to the land of the living.

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Station, the weird alien scientists, help Bill and Ted–and Death!–build good robot versions of themselves, they save the day at the Battle of the Bands, more time travel hijinks ensue, De Nomolos is defeated, world peace is achieved and . . . it’s all so goofy and stupid but played with such conviction that it all holds together for an entertaining hour and a half. I’m not sure which movie I like better–when I was a kid, it was definitely Bogus Journey, but after rewatching them both, they are both brilliant in their own ways. But Bogus Journey raises the stakes significantly, ups the weird quotient on what was already a charmingly bizarre film franchise, and pulls the whole thing off with aplomb. It’s not Oscar worthy cinema, but it’s entertaining as hell. Good triumphs over evil, including the ultimate evil, the heroes get the girls, and the day is saved.

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And like the first, it’s still pretty wholesome. There are a few more gently off-color jokes. “Fag” is used twice. I counted about three times where someone was called a “dick,” and Bill, of course, refers to the Evil Robots as “Dickweed.” Bill and Ted look down Missy’s shirt again, and Evil Ted, upon seeing a photo of the princesses, says that he has a “full-on robot chubby.” It never feels gratuitous though. This is the Valley speak of the era. Oh, and Faith No More guitarist Jim Martin calls De Nomolos a “shithead”

“Station” is a weird thing. Apparently, it was an inside joke where the word “Station” was left in the script and a drunken Matheson and Solomon thought it was hilarious. So they kept that in as an inside joke, a weird bit of future slang that characters either say to mean “Understood” or as a positive exclamation. Towards the end, Bill and Ted introduce Station the aliens as two dudes who can make one word mean anything, and that about sums it up. Bizarre? Sure. Necessary for the film to work? No, not really. And yet in an odd way, it fits perfectly with the vibe Bill and Ted’s Bogus Journey.

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I’d be remiss if I didn’t point out the killer soundtrack. Faith No More. Kiss. Megadeth. Winger. Steve Vai. Slaughter, Richie Kotzen. Primus (who are in the movie!). And a band I’ve just started getting into and holy cow how hadn’t I been a fan of these guys before, King’s X. It’s a who’s who of both popular and alternative hard rock and metal at the time, and shows that the people behind this movie were pretty in tune with the pop culture around them.

This movie is great. I recommend you watch both Excellent Adventure and Bogus Journey back-to-back for a most triumphant time. I’m ready to watch Bill and Ted Face the Music and I sincerely hope it’s good. Otherwise, that would be most non-non-non-non-non-heinous.

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My books are almost non-heinous. Check out The Last Ancestor for some most triumphant sci-fi action. Station!

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Disgust

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One of the worst things to happen to American society was large swaths of the population being tricked into suppressing their disgust reflex.

It’s okay to be disgusted by certain things that you see. It’s healthy, in fact. There are things you should be utterly repulsed by, and treat with loathing. The sexual exploitation of children, for instance. Human bodily waste is another. Gross sexual practices are a third. Ultra-violence–both witnessing and committing it–is a fourth. If the vast majority of people are disgusted by certain things, as they have been for the overwhelming majority of human existence, then the fact that there are forces telling you not to be disgusted by these things, that they’re in fact normal and good and should be celebrated, should give you serious pause.

Your disgust reflex, your instinct to rebel against that which is disgusting on a physical, spiritual, and moral level, is what keeps civilizations functioning. The kinds of civilization that a civilized, thinking person actually wants to live in, I should say. Not the kind of civilization (if we can even use that word) that much of the United States is rapidly devolving into.

There is nothing intellectual about exalting that which is disgusting, gross, vile, or perverted. It does not make you smarter than the average person. It does not make you hip or edgy or more of an artiste. It makes you the weird one, actually.

Humanity flourishes when there is something higher than us all–higher even than kings and queens and bishops and presidents other men and women in high places, that even those in high places can aspire to. You see it in art. You see it in architecture. You see it in science. You see it in fashion. You hear it in music. You sense it in the air around you. You can know it by what a society values and what it fights for.

Humanity languishes and eventually devolves when all it aspires to is a fetid, open sewer. When those in high places give in to their self-destructive streak and repeatedly dive head-first into the filth, you know a civilization is in trouble. It gets worse, though, because they demand that you dive deep into the gross brown sludge with them, and if you don’t, they will find ways of rubbing your face in it anyway. It will be reflected in the art, the music, the prevailing culture of the day. And you will be told that if you do not only not LIKE it, but aren’t sufficiently WORSHIPFUL of it, then YOU’RE the weird one.

No. You must fundamentally reject that. If you’re disgusted by something, by whatever perversion or lie you’re being told, that’s good. That’s normal. That’s healthy. Don’t let anybody tell you that your visceral reaction to whatever repugnance is thrust into your face is wrong. Your disgust is proof that you haven’t been broken yet–though beaten and battered, you still remain whole. Disgust is the only sane response when presented with evil.

My characters get disgusted with evil. Read about some of them in The Last Ancestor.

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What’s Worth Remembering

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September 11, 2001 is when everything started to go haywire. It exacerbated the cracks in America’s foundation that had been there for decades. We were just too fat and happy to have seen them beforehand.

Anyway, the only things that deserve to be remembered are the victims and their families and the cops and firefighters who died trying to help them. We also can’t forget the soldiers and their families who have been injured or killed in the ensuing wars.

God have mercy on us all and grant us peace.

Movie Review: Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure (1989)

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As a child of the 80s and early 90s, I was psyched to learn that the original team behind Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure and Bill and Ted’s Bogus Journey–writers Ed Solomon and Chris Matheson, and actors Keanu Reeves and Alex Winter–were reuniting to create the third movie in the saga, this year’s Bill and Ted Face the Music.

Before watching the new movie, and inspired by Brian Niemeier’s rewatch and analysis, I decided to do my own. And so, the other night while exercising on the elliptical–and after, because I didn’t want to stop watching–I watched Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure for the first time in about twenty years. And let me tell you, it still holds up. And while it’s funny without being uproariously so, it’s thoroughly enjoyable, doesn’t waste a minute, feels shorter than it is because it’s so fun, and is entirely wholesome.

Yes, you read that right.

See, the Bill and Ted movies get lumped into the “stoner comedy” bucket a lot. But here’s the thing: Bill and Ted aren’t stoners! They don’t do drugs, and they don’t even reference drugs! There’s a part when they travel back in time to the wild west and enter a saloon to order two beers. The bartender gives them their beers, and Bill and Ted are like, “Whoa! They didn’t even card us!” That’s it. That’s the only reference to adult substances in the entire movie.

In fact, while much has been said about Bill and Ted’s likeability, the fact is they’re two good-natured, kind-hearted, innocent, and sweet kids who are just . . . kind of dumb. Well, kind of conventionally dumb. As Brian pointed out in his review and analysis, Bill and Ted are both brave, loyal, resourceful, and smart in their own way. It’s just the book learning where they have trouble.

And learning how to play their guitars too.

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That later point is important. For those of you who haven’t seen Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure, allow me a short recap:

Bill S. Preston (Winter), Esquire and Ted “Theodore” Logan (Reeves) are two affable teenage metalheads who live in San Dimas, California. All they enjoy doing is playing their guitars, planning how their band, Wyld Stallyns, is going to totally rock, and making epic music videos. The problem is, they suck at their instruments . . . which is why they need Eddie Van Halen in their band . . . which is why they need to make a killer music video to get Eddie Van Halen interested in joining Wyld Stallyns . . . which is why they need to learn their instruments, or else they can’t make a killer music video . . . and so on. 

Their bigger problem is that they’re in danger of failing their history class. If they do so, Ted’s father, a police officer who believes in strict discipline, is going to send Ted to Oates Military Academy . . . in Alaska. That means no more hanging out with Bill . . . and no more Wyld Stallyns . . . and the future of humankind is doomed.

You see, Bill and Ted eventually get good. Wyld Stallyns eventually writes music and releases albums. And thier music is so excellent it ends all war and poverty. Yes, due to the music and philosophy of Bill and Ted, utopia is achieved. The movie begins in the year 2688, 700 years in the future, where the Three Most Important People (played by Clarence Clemons of Bruce Springsteen’s E. Street Band, Martha Davis of the Motels, and Fee Waybill of the Tubes) send a time-traveling dude named Rufus (George Carlin) back to 1988 in a time-traveling phone booht to help Bill and Ted pass their final history oral report.

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This is where the two hit upon the idea to collect the historical figures they’re supposed to research and incorporate them into the performance. If they can pass senior year history, the future of humanity is saved!

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So the movie is incredibly stupid, yet has incredibly high stakes. It’s also incredibly funny due to the fact that none of it makes sense, yet everybody plays it relatively straight. It’s a very delicate line to walk in comedy, especially sci-fi comedy–how does the supernatural or otherworldly coexist in a world where everything is supposed to be funny? How do you make comedy out of sci-fi? I can think of only a few other movies that did it right: The first two Ghostbusters movies. Galaxy Quest as well. And they did it in a similar way to Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure: while the audience may see the ridiculousness of what’s happening on screen, the characters act as though what’s going on is the most important thing in the world. This is how you get audience buy-in. No knowing, smirking, “isn’t this ridiculous?” fourth-wall breaking. And all of these movies would still hang together if you got rid of the comedic elements.

It also helps that Alex Winter and Keanu Reeves are brilliant as Bill and Ted. And no, I’m not using that word flippantly. Their comedic timing, delivery, body language, and chemistry is infectious. They’re just so damn likeable! Like I said earlier, they’re good kids. If they were typical 21st century snarky assholes, the movie would not work. It’s Bill and Ted’s childlike innocence that makes every silly line, every absurd set-piece, and the entire premise (which is totally bonkers) work.

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I love the scene where they bring all the historical figures back to Bill’s house, where his step-mother Missy is doing the gardening while listening to music. She doesn’t hear the phone booth appear out of nowhere, and when she turns and sees it, and the historical figures spilling out, she’s just like, “Oh, hi Bill!”

The duo then explain that they have some friends to help them with their history report, introducing them like, “Uh, this is Dave Beethoven (pronounced “Beeth-Oven,” naturally), Herman the Kid, Socrates (pronounced “So-crates,” of course), Johnson, Bob Genghis Khan, and . . . uh . . . Abraham Lincoln.”

Missy is totally unfazed. And she won’t drive them around to help find Napoleon until Bill finishes his chores. So some of history’s greatest people help our heroes clean the house.

It’s a little thing, but it’s hilarious.

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Winter and Reeves deliver even the stupidest little line with such exuberance that they become funny. For example, while walking around in full suits of plate armor, Bill comments how heavy the it is. “Yeah,” says Ted. “Heavy metal!” Air-guitaring commences. They then pick up swords and begin sparring while pretending to be Luke Skywalker and Darth Vader. After, one of them (I forgot which) spreads his arms and yells, “Dude! We totally know how to swordfight!” Later, Ted clobbers a guy with a huge leg of lamb. “I bonked that guy in the head with a bone!” he comments as they run away. “He’s a bonehead!” 

I don’t know how else to describe it except to call it cute.

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The whole movie is chock full of stuff like this. Napoleon taking off to a water park called “Waterloo.” Sigmund Freud, Billy the Kid, and Socrates trying to pick up chicks at the mall. Joan of Arc–played by Jane Weidlin from the Go-Gos–doing aerobics. Abe Lincoln making sure Ted’s father at the police station (oh yeah–they all get arrested) knows that “Lincoln” is spelled with a “C.” The “excellent barbarian” Genghis Khan being addicted to Twinkies for the “most excellent sugar rush.” Ted, during their epic oral presentation, describing Socrates as “Coming from a time when much of the world looked like the cover of Led Zeppelin’s Houses of the Holy album.” Bill later adds “We went to Ancient Greece. There were many steps and columns. It was most tranquil.” 

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And so, so many more. It’s a bunch of little moments and witty one-liners that culminate in a really fun, silly, time-travel romp with some surprisingly intelligent and sweet humor mixed with the dumb Valley Guy stuff. The time-travel aspect is never taken too seriously, save for Rufus’s warning that, no matter where they go, the clock in San Dimas is always ticking. The goofy stuff at the end where they discover things their future selves did that help them in the present will likewise make your head hurt if you think about it too much . . . so don’t.

Because none of that stuff matters. Bill and Ted manage to evade death, give an epic final oral report, rescue two historical princess babes from having to marry some old royal ugly dudes, and even learn a thing or two about history.

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There are only a few slightly off-color or suggestive jokes: Bill’s step-mother Missy being only three years older than them; Bill and Ted trying to look down her shirt; Bill’s dad giving them money to leave so he can get busy with Missy in Bill’s room; their favorite number being “Sixty-nine, dude!”; Bill calling the people he thinks killed Ted “medeival dickweeds”; the duo calling each other “fag” after they hug; Ted’s little brother Deacon calling Napoleon “a dick”; the aforementioned beer joke; and . . . that’s it. The fact that I can list them all shows how few there are.

It’s also refreshing to see an example of male friendship that doesn’t have any ham-fisted and completely out-of-place gay subtext. Two men are allowed to be close without wanting to sodomize each other. The fact that Hollywood can’t write these kinds of characters anymore is pretty sad. Also sad: Hollywood can’t make movies like this completely absent of any religious or political insults and sucker-punches, or comedy without tons of gross stuff. It’s pure entertainment for entertainment’s sake. This is what they’ve taken from us.

Anyway, Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure is a wonderful slice of 1980s pop culture, it’s a sci-fi comedy with heart, and it features one of cinema’s most insanely likeable duos. I highly recommend you check this one out. Be excellent to each other, and party on, dudes!

Main character Garrett Nestor in The Last Ancestor is also insanely likeable, or so I’ve been told. Don’t believe me? Read the reviews then snag the book!

The Video Shop

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Author J.D. Cowan wrote a post recently about video stores and the role they played in the culture of the late 70s to the early 90s, before Blockbuster rolled in and and destroyed the vibrant independent video rental store scene, and then in turn was destroyed by the advent of the Internet.

It got me right in the nostalgia center of my brain in a way only those of us who came of age in the 1980s and 1990s will understand. But it hit me even harder because I didn’t just go to video stores–or our local supermarket which, believe it or not, had a fantastic selection of movies and video games for rental back in the day. You see, I actually got to live in a video store. 

In a sense. And only temporarily during the summers. But it left some profound memories and I do feel a legitimate, palpable sense of loss when I read pieces like J.D.’s about the sudden, shocking, and sad death of independent video stores. 

My uncle owned a video store. I don’t remember the exact date he opened it–it could have been 1989 or 1990 for all I know. What mattered is that my uncle–who is also my godfather–is an actor and a massive movie buff who studied filmmaking as well as theater, and was really into movies. It was the equivalent of an actual musician with 15 or 20 years serious experience opening a music store. The reason my uncle, a very entrepreneurial guy, decided to open a video store was because he loved movies. His shop was no corporate, faceless franchise–it was run exactly by the kind of person you would want running your local video store.

He carried new movies, blockbusters, and everything you’d expect, but as J.D. describes in his excellent piece, my uncle also curated a library of films he thought were excellent, and that customers would love. He’d run promos, recommending sci-fi movies he liked, for example, or thrillers, or cool new independent movies he recently watched and thought deserved more recognition. For example, he was a big proponent of the movie Dark City before it became a cult classic. He also loved vintage movies from the Golden Era of Hollywood, old comedy like The Three Stooges and the Marx Brothers, obscure cop movies, old TV shows, and all the great bits of culture that might have slipped through the cracks of your average teenager or twenty-something of the era.

My brother and I used to spend summers working and hanging out with my uncle. We’d help clean, restock returns, and shoot the breeze when there were no customers. Sometimes we’d watch a cool movie in his office–I distinctly recall watching It’s A Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World–but often we’d watch Mystery Science Theater 3000 back when it was on Comedy Central. And when my uncle started renting video game consoles, my brother and I were official game testers for NES and Super NES games he was contemplating ordering for the store: he’d select which games he wanted promo copies of before making the decision to order a few, so my brother and I would play for a bit and give our opinion, which he’d go for. Later, when my oldest cousin was old enough, he’d help out with this too in the N64 era. It was awesome.

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And then there was the fact that my uncle could snag movies and video games for my brother, sister, and me wicked cheap through his distributors. And he’d also give us samples he didn’t end up ordering for the store, as well as these awesome gigantic movie posters he was either through with, or didn’t end up using. I remember my brother had this gigantic Cliffhanger poster that was on the door to his bedroom for years.

Business got so good that my uncle, along with my dad, ended up buying some property in a better location so the store could move to a bigger building. I helped him and my little (though not-so-little) cousin paint it the summer before I turned 16. It was also the first summer I shaved my head after having a ponytail for so long.

And then there were the adult films . . . 

Oh, my brother and I never watched them. We’d yuck bout the movie titles when customers would bring them back; when we were only like 13 or 14 my uncle shielded us from them, though I remember all of us cracking up about a movie called SEXPLOSION. But yeah, back in the day, video stores were the only place you could really get pornos. And my uncle rented them! They were an income stream. He had these big black binders in the corner of the store labeled ADULT ONLY. Inside were movie covers and a little velcro tag with a number. Customers would take the tags to my uncle, and he’d go to the special shelves out back and get the disgusting pornos for the customers. 

When we were older, like 17, we’d help put the tags back and holy cow, did we laugh at the titles of these movies. Maybe it was just a different time, but I don’t remember being titillated by any of these. We just found the sheer absurdity of names I will not relate here too hilarious. But anyway, it was a segment of his business despite his misgivings, and that was just how it was.

So video stores to me didn’t just mean renting three games or movies for five dollars for three days at National Video in Plymouth, New Hampshire, or from the local Shop n’ Save for the weekend. It also meant family, male-bonding time . . . and learning about great old movies, TV shows, and new video games.

When Blockbuster started reaching even the sleepy towns of New Hampshire, my uncle was not happy. He was confident his carefully curated video experience could withstand the onslaught of relentless corporate conformity as described by J.D. And he did, for a while. But things began to change. With the advent of the PlayStation, he’d get teenagers who only wanted one or two specific games. And my uncle didn’t carry PlayStation games because he didn’t want to solely rely on video games for his business. But as these new consoles came out, NES, Super NES, Genesis, and even N64 games weren’t renting. And then when Blockbuster started gobbling up the entire market, providing a million copies of the same three new movies, the end of independent video rental shops was at hand. Many customers, their tastes shaped by the new model being shoved down their throats, weren’t as interested in poking around shelves of carefully selected film history, or waiting for one of my uncle’s five copies of the hot new release to be returned when Blockbuster had 75 copies of the same film. So off to Blockbuster many people went. 

[image error]Nobody should miss this place.

The writing was on the wall, but my uncle held out for as long as he could. Eventually, he closed up shop, and rented out the property to a consignment store before starting his own contracting business (My uncle, a talented guy, is also a wizard with his hands. The guy can build houses, beautiful houses. He’s also an excellent artist. A real self-taught Renaissance Man). One of the things that was keeping him in business for a while was the pornos he rented for five bucks a pop. One of the reasons he decided to close the video store was because he didn’t want to be a smut peddler. 

This all transpired around the turn of the century. It marked the end of an era both nationwide and personally for me and my brother; very bittersweet because, as we entered our twenties, this was yet another magical part of our childhood that evaporated along with so many others.

For those younger people reading this, those born in the late 90s or in the 2000s with endless entertainment options at your fingertips–hell, in your pockets–it’s hard to overstate how wonderful video stores were. For a few bucks you could get to watch a recent movie in your own home, or find some obscure piece of film lore, a classic B-movie or foreign import, and enjoy the hell out of it with your friends. You also had the opportunity to rent video games you otherwise couldn’t find for purchase, or didn’t have the money to buy, or just didn’t like enough to want to own. Most of the games I rented were ones my brother and I couldn’t find in stores; there was no Amazon back then and if your Sears or Service Merchandise or Babbage’s didn’t have a game, you were out of luck. 

I remember renting River City Ransom for a week–at a cost of $11!–when my mother said she’d cover the late fees because I had almost finished it. Or Castlevania III when it first came out, and actually reserving it and picking it up on the way back from a weekend spent visiting family. Or EarthBound, which I think I renewed for two weeks. And then, of course, there were the Beatles movies my brother and I loved to rent, action movies like Universal Soldier and Under Seige and Total Recall and Terminator 2, comedies like Airplane! and The Blues Brothers which we must have rented fifty times, and so, so many other memories (like my mother renting Little Monsters for me when I was 8 without realizing how inappropriate it was–seriously, that movie is like some coked-up Hollywood weirdo’s fever dream). 

But of course, the deepest, longest-lasting memories I have of video stores were those summers hanging out with my uncle and my brother, eating pizza and watching cool old movies or episodes of Mystery Science Theater 3000 while helping him around the video store.

Every era has to end. That’s natural. What’s a shame is that what replaced the era of the independent video store sucks so bad. 

Read sci-fi written by a guy who loves sci-fi (me).

Salute to the Forgotten Man

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Labor Day was instituted in the 1880s to honor American laborers, the men and women whose hard work made the American economic engine move. Not that economics are the only measure of a successful nation, or life–let’s not forget that so many of us find meaning in what we do with the vast bulk of our waking hours beyond just a paycheck to cash for the necessities of life. I imagine mechanics and carpenters and metal smiths and welders and even the guy on the assembly line find some sort of fulfillment in a hard day’s worth of useful work.

Vaguely communistic underpinnings aside, there is nothing wrong with saluting then working man.

Yet America now is a foreign country compared to the America some 140 years ago. In addition to being, quite literally, a different people, we don’t honor laborers at all. Sure, various political parties pay lip service to labor, but the working class is typically denigrated as stupid, ignorant, uneducated, mostly white, drug-addled rubes with three teeth between them.

The Right, at least some of it, tries to discuss the plight of the working class, but they get called “white nationalist” for their troubles, and “xenophobic racists” to boot for raising concern about the never-ending influx of cheap foreign labor their so-called colleagues keep bringing in at the behest of their corporate paymasters. And the Left, which used to be the side of the working man, rubs it’s hands in glee as the old American working class dies the death of unemployment and despair while they import a new one guaranteed to vote the “right” way, i.e., for them.

To hell with all of them. And I mean that–it’s very un-Christian of me, but I hope those responsible for the death of this amazing country my great-grandparents risked everything to come to burn in hell for all eternity for literally ruining a great place.

Raise your glass to the working man today, the forgotten man. I’m not talking about your overeducated morons like me and other white-collar jerks who’ve participated in the ruination of America, is parasites who don’t even know how to hunt or build anything with our bare hands.

As what’s left of America burns, let’s salute those who actually made this place run for a few hundred years.

The Labor Day book sale is still happening! Get some awesome books cheap, including The Last Ancestor.

Labor Day Book Sale

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Author Hans Schantz has put together a massive Labor Day sale of dozens of excellent books for 99¢, and some free. My own The Last Ancestor is included, as well as books by Jon Del Arroz, Travis Corcoran, Robert Kroese, Declan Finn, Brian Niemeier, Loretta Malakie, L. Jagi Lamplighter, Bokerah Brumley, Christopher Lansdown, David Roome, Larry Correia, Jeff Duntemann, Jon Mollison, Daniel Humphreys, T.J. Marquis, John Ringo, David J. West, and Mr. Schantz himself.

There’s something for everyone: sci-fi, urban fantasy, zombie apocalypses, romance, mystery, fantasy, mecha, superheroes, drama, steampunk, and more.

Support independent authors and art! Check out the sale here–ends on September 9.

And please enjoy the weekend with your family and friends. God bless!