Monday, 18 October 2021

Why Don't You..?







“Our Minds are just focused on these Goals and Plans... which in themselves are Not Reality.

“No. Goals and Plans are not... I mean, they're Fantasy

They're part of a dream life. 
I mean,you know, it always just does seem so ridiculous, somehow that everybody has to have his little Goal in Life. 

I mean, it's so absurd, in a way, when you consider that 
it doesn't matter WHICH one it IS.”

“Right. 
And because people's concentration is on their Goals... in their Life they just Live each moment by HABIT

Really, like the Norwegian telling the same stories over and over again. Life becomes HABITUAL. And it is today. 

I mean, very few things happen now like that moment when MARLON BRANDO sent the Indian woman to accept the Oscar and everything went haywire

Things just very rarely go haywire now. 

And if you're just operating By Habit then you're not really Living.

I mean, you know, in Sanskrit, the root of the verb "To Be" is the same as "To Grow" or "To MAKE Grow."”

“Huh.”



Manchester's Origins are all based on, like 

'I wanna pick someone who's kind of The Opposite of Superman, but also [just] as powerful; so, his having telepathic powers and telekinetic powers and as opposed to  physical powers, unlike Superman, kind of represents (for me) 'Okay, I was a guy who was picked-on -- so, in my head, I'm looking at people that were picking on me, and going "I WISH YOU WOULD DIE! I WISH YOU WOULD DIE! I WISH YOU WOULD DIE", and one day they finally DID --

This, I think, is a pretty relatable kind of Dark Fantasy that most people have, so -- Manchester IS That Guy.


Manchester's upbringing was very dark -- he comes from an abusive home where there's just Him and His Sister.

His Sister is a bit of a source Hope and some Light for him; she's put in a position where she has to work in a Sweat Shop and she loses her arms in an Industrial Accident and that snaps Manchester -- that's when His Powers unleash, that's when he starts executing Bloody Revenge on anybody who's near him, who ever hurt him, who ever did anything to him. He starts to explore what those Powers mean and what they allow him to do.

I also wanted him to be charismatic and funny, with just NO regard for Sensitivity Political Correctness --


In the comics, and in the film, too, there were jokes that we had to pull BACK on, because they were even pushing it TOO far...

Yeah, he was just a complete MESS, say absolutely whatever's on his mind and.... Kill Ya as soon as look at ya.. :)

After Superman and Manchester meet in 775, Superman sort of finds the centre of the power in his brain and uses a little, er, X-Ray/Heat Vision Microsurgery to essentially sort of paralyse that bit that gives him His Power.

THEN, he decides to make another go at Superman -- 
He CAN'T get over this idea that Superman is as Wholesome and as Pure as he seems to be -- 
because if Superman's that Pure, that means that he's really that EVIL.

He starts throwing all of these Supervillains at Superman, and it's a ruse to get him far enough away from Lois, so that when he returns to Metropolis, she's DEAD.

But, he DID NOT kill Lois -- because, he had hoped that [Superman] would kill HIM, and, when The Illusion broke, he had killed a man under false pretences, and that REALLY was going to be his "SCREW YOU!!" To Superman -- but, er.... 
It didn't happen.

And so he just goes off into The World,  and essentially commits suicide, as a result of that event -- when he decides it's time, he's going to end his own life, he basically turns his own power against himself, he sort of literally makes his hand like a gun and sort of telekinetically shoots himself in the head... 


IT DOESN’T WORK.





-- Joe Kelly

Why Do You Trust Him?










The Designated Survivor : 
So, where'd you pick this one up, then? 

 
ROSE
Doctor. 
 

JACK
She was hanging from a barrage balloon, 
I had an invisible spaceship. 
I never stood a chance. 

 
The Designated Survivor
Okay. One, we've got to get out of here. 
Two, we can't get out of here. 
Have I missed anything? 
ROSE
Yeah. Jack just disappeared.


ROSE: 
Okay, so he's vanished into thin air. 
Why is it always the great looking ones who do that? 

 
The Designated Survivor
I'm making an effort not to be insulted
 

ROSE: 
I mean, men. 
 
The Designated Survivor
Okay, thanks, that really helped. 
 

(The radio crackles into life.) 
 

JACK
Rose? Doctor? 
Can you hear me? 
I'm back on My Ship.
 
[Jack's spaceship]
 
JACK: 
Used the emergency teleport. 
Sorry I couldn't take you.
 
It's security-keyed to my molecular structure.
 
 
I'm working on it. Hang in there. 
 
The Designated Survivor
How're you speaking to us? 

 
JACK : 
Om-Com. I can call anything with a speaker grill. 
 
 
The Designated Survivor
Now there's a coincidence. 

 
JACK [OC]: 
What is? 
 
The Designated Survivor
The Child can Om-Com, too. 

 
ROSE: 
He can? 
 
The Designated Survivor
Anything with a speaker grill. 
Even The TARDIS' phone. 

 
ROSE
What, you mean The Child can phone us? 

 
CHILD [OC]
And I can hear you. 
Coming to find you. 
Coming to find you.
 
JACK: 
Doctor, can you hear that? 

 
The Designated Survivor
Loud and clear. 
 

JACK
I'll try to block out The Signal. Least I can do.
 
CHILD [OC]: 
Coming to find you, mummy.
 
JACK
Remember this one, Rose?
[Storeroom]
(Moonlight Serenade comes through the radio.) 

 
ROSE
Our Song. 

 
(
A little later, Rose is relaxing in a wheelchair while The Doctor is at the barred window with the ever-versatile sonic screwdriver.) 

 
Tyler : 
What you doing? 
 
 The Designated Survivor
Trying to set up a resonation pattern in the concrete, 
loosen the bars. 
 
Tyler : 
You don't think he's coming back, do you
 
 The Designated Survivor
Wouldn't bet My Life. 
 

Tyler : 
Why don't you Trust him? 

 
The Designated Survivor
Why do you
 
ROSE Tyler : 
He Saved My Life --
Bloke-wise, that's up there with flossing

I Trust Him because 
He's Like You
Except, with 
Dating, and Dancing
 
What
 
The Designated Survivor
You just assume I'm 
--
 
ROSE Tyler : 
What
 
The Designated Survivor
You just assume that I don't Dance
 
Tyler : 
What, are you telling me you do dance? 

 
The Designated Survivor
Nine hundred years old, me. I've been around a bit. 
I think you can assume at some point I've danced. 

 
ROSE:  
You?!

The Designated Survivor
Problem? 

 
ROSE
Doesn't The Universe implode 
or something if you dance? 

 
The Designated Survivor
Well, I've got The Moves 
but I wouldn't want to boast. 
 

(Rose turns up the volume on the radio. It is still Moonlight Serenade.) 

 
ROSE: 
You've got The Moves...? 
Show me Your Moves.
 
The Designated Survivor
Rose, I'm trying to resonate concrete
ROSE: 
Jack'll be back. 
He'll get us out. 
 
So come on --
The World doesn't End 
because The Doctor dances. 

 
(Rose holds out her hands, and the Doctor looks at her palms.)
 
The Designated Survivor
Barrage balloon? 

 
ROSE
What? 
 
The Designated Survivor
You were hanging from a barrage balloon
 
ROSE
Oh, yeah. About two minutes after you left me. 
Thousands of feet above London, 
middle of a German air-raid, 
Union Jack all over My Chest. 

 
The Designated Survivor
I've travelled with a lot of people, 
but you're setting new records for jeopardy friendly. 

 
ROSE
Is this You, Dancing? 
Because, I've got notes. 
 
The Designated Survivor
Hanging from a rope thousands feet above London. 
Not a cut, not a bruise. 

 
ROSE
Yeah, I know. 
Captain Jack fixed me up. 
 
The Designated Survivor
Oh, we're calling him 
Captain Jack now, are we? 
 

ROSE: 
Well, His Name's Jack 
and He's a Captain. 

 
The Designated Survivor
He's not really a Captain, Rose. 

 
ROSE
Do you know what I think? 
I think you're experiencing 
Captain envy

You'll find your feet at the end of your legs. 
You may care to move them. 
 
The Designated Survivor
If ever he was a Captain, 
he's been defrocked. 
 
ROSE
Yeah? Shame I missed that.
 
[Jack's spaceship]

JACK
Actually, I quit. 
Nobody takes my frock. 

Most people notice when they've been teleported. 
You guys are so sweet. 

Sorry about the delay. 
I had to take the nav-com offline to override the teleport security. 
 
The Designated Survivor
You can spend ten minutes overriding your own protocols? 
Maybe you should remember whose ship it is
 

JACK: 
Oh, I do. She was gorgeous. 
Like I told her, 'Be Back in Five Minutes.' 

 
The Designated Survivor
This is a Chula ship. 
 

JACK:
 Yeah, just like that medical transporter. 
Only this one is dangerous. 
 

(The Doctor snaps his fingers and the golden glow envelopes his hands.) 

 
ROSE: 
They're what fixed my hands up Jack called them er 
--
 
The Designated Survivor
Nanobots? Nanogenes. 

 
ROSE
Nanogenes, yeah.
 

The Designated Survivor
Sub-atomic robots. There's millions of them in here, see? 
Burned my hand on the console when we landed. 
All better now. 
 
They activate when the bulk head's sealed. 
Check you out for damage, fix any physical flaws. 
Take us to the crash site. 
I need to see your space junk. 

 
JACK
As soon as I get the nav-com back online. 
Make yourself comfortable. 
Carry on with whatever it was you were doing. 

 
The Designated Survivor
We were talking about Dancing. 
 

JACK: 
It didn't look like Talking. 

 
ROSE
It didn't feel like Dancing.

ROBOTS





robot (n.)
1923, "mechanical person," also "person whose work or activities are entirely mechanical," from the English translation of the 1920 play "R.U.R." ("Rossum's Universal Robots") by Karel Capek (1890-1938), from Czech robotnik "forced worker," from robota "forced labor, compulsory service, drudgery," from robotiti "to work, drudge," from an Old Czech source akin to Old Church Slavonic rabota "servitude," from rabu "slave" (from Old Slavic *orbu-, from PIE *orbh- "pass from one status to another;" see orphan).

 
The Slavic word thus is a cousin to German Arbeit "work" (Old High German arabeit). The play was enthusiastically received in New York from its Theatre Guild performance debut on Oct. 9, 1922. According to Rawson the word was popularized by Karel Capek's play, "but was coined by his brother Josef (the two often collaborated), who used it initially in a short story." 

Hence, "a human-like machine designed to carry out tasks like a human agent."








The Biggest Problem were Quislings. 

Quislings? 

Yeah, you know, the people that went nutballs and started acting like zombies. 

Could you elaborate? 

Well, I’m not a shrink, so I don’t know all the tech terms. 

That’s all right. 

Well, as I understand it, there’s a type of person who just can’t deal with a fight-or-die situation. 

They’re always drawn to what they’re afraid of.

Instead of resisting it, they want to please it, 
join it, try to be like it. 

I guess that happens in kidnap situations, you know, like a Patty Hearst/ Stockholm Syndrome–type, or, like in regular war, when people who are invaded sign up for The Enemy’s Army. 

Collaborators, sometimes even more die-hard than the people they’re trying to mimic, like those French fascists who were some of Hitler’s last troops. 

Maybe that’s why we call them quislings, like it’s a French word or something.

But you couldn’t do it in This War. You couldn’t just throw up your hands and say, “Hey, don’t kill me, I’m on your side.” 

There was no gray area in this fight, no in between. 

I guess some people just couldn’t accept that. It put them right over the edge. 

They started moving like zombies, sounding like them, even attacking and trying to eat other people. 

That’s how we found our first one. He was a male adult, midthirties. Dirty, dazed, shuffling down the sidewalk. We thought he was just in Z-shock, until he bit one of our guys in the arm. That was a horrible few seconds. 


I dropped the Q with a head shot then turned to check on my buddy. He was crumpled on the curb, swearing, crying, staring at the gash in his forearm. 

This was a death sentence and he knew it. 

He was ready to do himself until we discovered that the guy I shot had bright red blood pouring from his head. When we checked his flesh we found he was still warm! 

You should have seen our buddy lose it. It’s not every day you get a reprieve from the big governor in the sky. Ironically, he almost died anyway. The bastard had so much bacteria in his mouth that it caused a near fatal staph infection. 

We thought maybe we stumbled onto some new discovery but it turned out it’d been happening for a while.

The CDC was just about to go public. They even sent an expert up from Oakland to brief us on what to do if we encountered more of them. It blew our minds. 

Did you know that quislings were the reason some people used to think they were immune? They were also the reason all those bullshit wonder drugs got so much hype. Think about it. Someone’s on Phalanx, gets bit but survives. What else is he going to think? 

He probably wouldn’t know there was even such a thing as quislings. They’re just as hostile as regular zombies and in some cases even more dangerous. 

How so? 

Well, for one thing, they didn’t freeze. I mean, yeah, they would if they were exposed over time, but in moderate cold, if they’d gone under while wearing warm clothes, they’d be fine. They also got stronger from the people they ate. Not like zombies. They could maintain over time. 

But you could kill them more easily. 

Yes and no. 

You didn’t have to hit them in head; you could take out the lungs, the heart, hit them anywhere, and eventually they’d bleed to death. But if you didn’t stop them with one shot, they’d just keep coming until they died. 

They don’t feel pain? 

Hell no. It’s that whole mind-over-matter thing, being so focused you’re able to suppress relays to the brain and all that. You should really talk to an expert. 

Please continue. 

Okay, well, that’s why we could never talk them down. There was nothing left to talk to. These people were zombies, maybe not physically, but mentally you could not tell the difference. 

Even physically it might be hard, if they were dirty enough, bloody enough, diseased enough. Zombies don’t really smell that bad, not individually and not if they’re fresh. 

How do you tell one of these from a mimic with a whopping dose of gangrene? You couldn’t. It’s not like the military would let us have sniffer dogs or anything. 

You had to use the eye test. Ghouls don’t blink, I don’t know why. Maybe because they use their senses equally, their brains don’t value sight as much. Maybe because they don’t have as much bodily fluid they can’t keep using it to coat the eyes. 

Who knows, but they don’t blink and quislings do. That’s how you spotted them; back up a few paces, and wait a few seconds. 

Darkness was easier, you just shone a beam in their faces. If they didn’t blink, you took them down. 

And if they did? 

Well, our orders were to capture quislings if possible, and use deadly force only in self-defense. It sounded crazy, still does, but we rounded up a few, hog-tied them, turned them over to police or National Guard. I’m not sure what they did with them. 

I’ve heard stories about Walla Walla, you know, the prison where hundreds of them were fed and clothed and even medically cared for. 

[His eyes flick to the ceiling.] 

You don’t agree. 

Hey, I’m not going there. You want to open that can of worms, read the papers. Every year some lawyer or priest or politician tries to stoke that fire for whatever side best suits them. 

Personally, I don’t care. I don’t have any feelings toward them one way or the other. I think the saddest thing about them is that they gave up so much and in the end lost anyway. 

Why is that? 

’Cause even though we can’t tell the difference between them, the real zombies can. 

Remember early in the war, when everybody was trying to work on a way to turn the living dead against one another? There was all this “documented proof ” about infighting—eyewitness accounts and even footage of one zombie attacking another. Stupid. It was zombies attacking quislings, but you never would have known that to look at it. 

Quislings don’t scream. They just lie there, not even trying to fight, writhing in that slow, robotic way, eaten alive by the very creatures they’re trying to be. 

Do Not TOUCH The Glass, Do Not APPROACH The Glass









Dr. Chilton :
Senator Martin, 
Dr. Hannibal Lecter.

Sr. Martin :
Dr. Lecter.
I brought an affidavit
guaranteeing Your New Rights.
You'll want to read it before I sign.

Lecter :
……I won't waste your time or Catherine's time
bargaining for petty privileges.

Clarice Starling
and that awful Jack Crawford
have wasted far too much time already.

I only pray they haven't 
doomed the poor girl.

Let Me Help You Now,
and I Will Trust You 
when it is all over.

Sr. Martin :
You have My Word. Paul?


Lecter :
Buffalo Bill's real Name is 
Louis Friend.

I met him just once.

He was referred to me in 
April or May 1980
by My Patient Benjamin Raspail.

They were lovers, you see.

But Raspail had become very frightened.
Apparently, Louis had murdered A Transient
and done things with The Skin.

Paul :
We need his address
and a physical description.


Lecter :
Tell me, Senator,
Did You Nurse Catherine Yourself?

Sr. Martin :
What?

Lecter :
Did you breast-feed her?

Paul :
Wait a minute.

Sr. Martin :
Yes, I did.


Lecter :
Toughened your nipples
didn't it?

Paul :
You son of a bitch!

Lecter :
Amputate A Man's leg,
and he can still feel it tickling.

Tell me, Mom, 
when your little girl
is on The Slab, 
where will it tickle you?

Sr. Martin :
Take This Thing back to Baltimore.


Lecter :
Five-foot-ten, strongly built,
about 180 pounds.

Hair blond, eyes pale blue.
He'd be about 35 now.

He said he lived in Philadelphia
but may have lied.

That's all I can remember, Mom.
But if I think of any more,
I will let you know.

Oh, and, Senator, 
just one more thing.

LOVE Your Suit.






I graduated from UVA, Doctor.

It is not a Charm School.


Good. Then you should 

be able to remember 

The Rules.



Do Not TOUCH The Glass.

Do Not APPROACH The Glass.


You pass him nothing 

but soft paper.

No pencils or pens.

No staples or paper clips 

in his paper.


Use the sliding food carrier.

NO Exceptions.

If he attempts to pass you anything, DO NOT ACCEPT IT.

Do you Understand Me?







This is The Way.











ARMORER: 
This was gathered in The Great Purge.

It is Good it is back with The Tribe.

THE MANDALORIAN: 
Yes.

ARMORER: 
A pauldron would be in order.
Has your signet been revealed?

THE MANDALORIAN: 
Not yet.

ARMORER: Soon.

ARMORER: 
This is extremely generous.
The excess will sponsor many Foundlings.

THE MANDALORIAN: 
That's Good.
I was once A Foundling.

ARMORER: 
I know.

Some by BLOOD, Some by CHOICE







JADZIA Dax
I Like your spots. 

LISA
(dark skinned) 
Most people don't have them because our ancestors were mostly human. 
My Mom says they make me Special. 


MOLLY
(another red-head) 
It's just genetics, Lisa. 
Like Torvin's ridges. 

LISA
You're just jealous, Molly. 

O'BRIEN: 
Molly? 

YEDRIN Dax: 
Oh yes. You'll find a lot of them here. 
The Name has been passed down through The O'Brien line

MIRANDA: 
Molly, this is your grandfather's 
great great great grandfather. 

MOLLY:  
Hello.

O'BRIEN
[ COMPLETELY Freaked-out — Dr. Schrodinger O’Brien doesn’t want to LOOK at Her. 
Hi. 

How much were we, were you able to salvage from The Defiant?





GABRIEL
They're here! They're here! 

WORF
Who? 

GABRIEL
The KLINGONS…!!

(A group of people with varying amounts of ridges, including NONE.) 

BROTA
Q'apla

WORF
Q'apla


BROTA
We are The Sons of Mogh. 

WORF
You are My Descendents. 

BROTA
Some by BLOOD
some by CHOICE — 

Our HEARTS are Klingon. 

We live as Warriors, 
just as you taught 
Our Ancestors long ago.


GABRIEL
I'm going to be 
ONE of Them someday. 

I'll ride a wild torga and go hunting, 
and only come to The Settlement 
to trade furs for the things I NEED

PARELL
( A Human Woman — 
She places a Fierce Hand on The Boy’s Shoulder )
When you are older, 
You will have the chance 
to prove yourself. 

If you are Worthy, 
you can take a Klingon Name 
and live among us.

Sunday, 17 October 2021

Mariner
















































“Look, I know we're not supposed 
to have interpersonal conflict, 
but I really hate That Andorian.”

BECKETT MARINER

Jennifer







That’s right. Relationships: easy to get into, hard to maintain. Why are they so hard to maintain? ‘Cause at some point you just stop talking. That’s right, everybody stops talking after a while. You know how it is. You come home and you start nodding. ”Yeah, we cool. ”I’m gonna get a little something to eat.” 

Why do you stop talking? 

‘Cause at some point, you have heard everything this person has to say… and it makes you sick to your stomach. 

You know what they’re gonna say before it even comes out their mouth… and you just wanna stab them in the neck with a pencil! 

Your can’t take the shit no more! And they’re like, ”Remember that time?” ”Yeah, I remember that time!” -”I ever tell you about–” -”Yeah, you told me about that time! ”Stop telling me the same shit over and over again! ”Why don’t you go out and get kidnapped, have some new shit happen to you?” That’s right. Fellas, you gotta talk. That’s women’s biggest complaint: ”You don’t talk. ”You need to talk, let’s talk. You don’t talk.” That’s right. Women love to talk. lf they had talking in the Olympics, a man wouldn’t stand a chance. Women love to talk, but they wanna talk to you. They wanna talk to their man. But women don’t want you to talk-talk. Women just want you to listen-listen. All a woman really wants you to do is ask her the correct questions… that will allow her to run her fucking mouth! You set her up, she’ll knock them down.
Fellas, you want your woman to be happy? All you got to say is, ”How was your day? ”Honey, how was your day?” Know why? ‘Cause ”How was your day?” is a minute conversation to a woman. And as a man, you don’t really gotta talk. You gotta just act like you’re talking. 

”Get out of here. Go on! I don’t believe it. ”You don’t say! Really? Get out of here! ”Go on. I don’t believe it. You don’t say? Get out of here. 

”l told you that bitch crazy!” 

You gotta throw in, ”l told you that bitch crazy.” 

You know why? 


‘Cause every woman’s got another woman at her job that she can’t stand

Women, y’all exaggerate everything. 

You turn it into some Dynasty shit, like: ”She’s trying to destroy me!” 

What the fuck are you talking about? 
You wrap up bags at J.C. Penney’s! 
What’s she doing, ripping up your paper? 

Fellas, you gotta talk. 
Women, exact opposite. 
Y’all gotta learn when not to talk. That’s right. 

You ever notice how no man comes home straight from work? No man comes home straight from work. A man get off work, he got to go somewhere. He got to drink something, he got to smoke something… he got to watch the game, he got to hang with his boys… he got to take a drive. 

He got to do something that will mentally prepare him… for all the talking he gonna hear when he get home. 

Ladies, it ain’t that you talk too much. You just talk too much as soon as we get in the fucking door. Let a man get situated. We don’t need to hear everything right away. Soon as you take one step in, ”You’re not gonna believe this….” 

Let me get my other foot in the fucking door! Let me get something to eat! Let me get something to drink! Let me take a shit! Go in the fucking kitchen and get me my big piece of chicken!

I’m out of here. Thank you, New York!