Tuesday, 3 August 2021

And Then, The President was Dead.



This is Your President. 

On behalf of my country, and in the name of the other leaders of the world, with whom I have today consulted, 
I hereby abdicate all authority and control over this planet...
to General Zod.

Clark Kent
Zod!

Only by strict compliance with all his directions will the lives of innocent millions be spared. 

[desperately] 

Superman! Can you hear me? 

Superman! Where—?

(The camera pans to Zod as he grabs a microphone)

General Zod
Who is this "Superman"?!

President
You'll find out, General, and when you do —

General Zod
Come to me, Superman! 
If you dare..!!
I defy you! Come! 
Come and kneel before Zod! 

Zod!!!










“ Flash stories were the work of well-adjusted grown-ups who really understood children. 

In contrast to the titanic but all too often cruel and cloying sensuality of the Superman and Batman tales, the female leads in Schwartz books brought a brisk self-assurance to the proceedings. 

In the graceful hands of Infantino or Kane, women like Iris Allen, Sue Dibny, and Jean Loring were styled in the finest New Look Paris modes. Their hair was cut to keep up with the latest trends. 

This was partly a result of fallout from the code, which insisted that female characters be realistically proportioned and modestly attired, but it helped turn the Schwartz heroines into hip and pretty exemplars of the Jackie Kennedy style. 

Out of costume, their men wore slacks, blazers, and trilby hats or sported short-back-and-sides establishment haircuts. An aesthetic that would one day be called metrosexual was born here in full bloom. 

They all hung out together, these settled young couples with good jobs, positive can-do attitudes, and crime-fighting double lives they still kept secret from their loved ones. 

Schwartz was also establishing a shared universe. Flash was friends with Green Lantern, Hal Jordan. 

He was also friends with Ivy League physics professor Ray Palmer, aka the Atom, and his lawyer girlfriend, Jean Loring. 

He also hung out with the Elongated Man (the Stretchable Sleuth) Ralph Dibny and his wife, Sue. 




They didn’t meet to fight one another as the later Marvel heroes would do. 


They didn’t overemote. 

They enjoyed picnics, which were routinely disrupted by oddly small-scale, almost polite, alien invasions—the kind easily repelled by the deployment of some quirky science fact that rendered the invaders vulnerable to common table salt or H2O. 

Their sexuality was never dubious or in doubt. Relaxed, cosmopolitan, they represented the epitome of our Kennedy Man, our postwar Madison Avenue pioneer astronaut American role model.

Hopeful in the clear light of 
The Morning of The Sun King. 



Poignant in their certainty. 


And then, 
The President was Dead





The golden walls of Camelot collapsed, flimsy as any stage set, to reveal the bloody screaming mires of Vietnam beyond, where two million potential astronauts, artists, poets, musicians, and scientists were being lined up to die in the sacrifice of an American generation.”


RIMMER :
Where are we?


KRYTEN :
It says 1966, I must have prodded us forward three years.


RIMMER :
At least it'll give us time to analyse the original error.



crosses to the window and looks out>


CAT :
Hey, there's nobody here, the entire city's deserted...



[-- 17 - OB. Day. A deserted, abandoned street ----------------------------]


[ALL present. They are walking slowly along a wide, pleasant street which is completely devoid of any signs of life. Abandoned vehicles line the side of the road, and a breeze blows old litter around. In the back of one of the cars is an discarded newspaper - it's headline reads: 
"Millions flee from American cities". 
It's like a scene from The Stand]


LISTER :
I don't understand it, all we did is save Kennedy's life.


CAT :
Is that bad? What kind of a dude was he?


RIMMER :
He was a fine man.



[-- 18 - OB. Day. A deserted, abandoned street ----------------------------]


[Scene cuts to a street further on in the city. All is the same as in the previous street, with one exception: 
the dead body of a man lies undisturbed on the pavement]


[ALL enter, CAT : leading]


CAT :
Look!


LISTER :
Can you get anything for us from his scent?




CAT :
Male.
Mid-thirties.


RIMMER :
It looks like he was trampled to death in some kind of stampede.



Kryten  sees a newspaper sticking out of the man's suit. He picks it up and begins to scan it


KRYTEN :
Just processing.
I'll re-route the results through my chest monitor:


[As the others gather around, POV switches to a close up of Kryten's monitor]


KRYTEN : [VO]
"President Kennedy was impeached in 1964 for sharing a mistress with Mafia boss, Sam Giancana. 

It was the biggest scandal in American history.

Kennedy was sentenced to three years 
in an open prison in July, '65.

J. Edgar Hoover became President; 
He was forced to run by The Mob,
who had pictures of him 
at a transvestite orgy."


LISTER :
So America had a president controlled by The Mafia?


KRYTEN
[partial VO]
"Soon after The Election, 
The USSR were allowed to install 
a nuclear base in Cuba 
in return for Mafia cocaine trafficking 
between Cuba and the States. 

With a Soviet nuclear base 90 miles 
from the US mainland, people
fled from all the major cities."




CAT :
So am I right in thinking I could get 
a major nuclear explosion all over this suit? 
Cos I'm telling you guys, 
that stuff does not dry clean!


RIMMER :
Back to Starbug.


KRYTEN :
Starbug isn't There
It Doesn't Exist.


CAT :
What?


RIMMER :
How come?


KRYTEN :
Er, best guess: Kennedy's impeachment in '64 traumatised the American nation, 
allowing The USSR to win The Space Race. 

In this reality, it was probably 
The Russians who were the first 
to land on The Moon.


CAT :
So we're marooned.


LISTER :
How was I supposed to know that 
a chicken vindaloo 
was going to cause all this.


CAT :
But you guys said Kennedy was a great pres!


KRYTEN :
He was!


RIMMER :
He was also an inveterate womaniser; 
his affairs were legendary. 
They never came out when he was alive.


KRYTEN :
Every man has his weak spot - 
his 'Achilles Heel'.


RIMMER :

Kennedy's was just, higher up.


LISTER :

If I'd known this was gonna happen, I'd have had an egg sarnie, and

finished the Cinzano.

Kryten, what've I done, man?


KRYTEN :

Well, you've brought the 20th century to the very brink of extinction,

sir. Gum?


LISTER :

What is wrong with you? Where is your compassion? You've got about as much

warmth as a service station chip! That's right, you've no behaviour

protocols, have you.


RIMMER :

Any you thought causality didn't matter? Every action we take, has

trillions of implications, how come you forgot that?


KRYTEN :

Well, I didn't forget, sir, I just didn't *care*. I've got no guilt.




LISTER :

Ah. I nicked Kryten's body. That's spare head 2; I removed his guilt

chip.


RIMMER :
You, have altered the entire course of Civilisation from the 20th century onwards, 
you've brought The World 
to the brink of nuclear war, and worst of all --


LISTER :
I know, I know; I still haven't had a curry.


KRYTEN :
No, worst of all, the Time Drive has frozen.


RIMMER :
Let me see --

Do you think its because the sub-space conduits have locked with the transponder calibrations and caused a major tachyon surge that has
overloaded the time matrix?


KRYTEN :
Ah, no, sir; I've just been jabbing it too hard.


CAT :
So what now?


RIMMER :
We need to have time to figure out how to unfreeze it. I suggest we, set up camp here for the night and perhaps Kryten can go and look for
some food?


KRYTEN :
I'm on my way, sir!


[Exit KRYTEN :]



[-- 19 - OB. Night. Aroun--------------]


[LISTER :, KRYTEN :, RIMMER : and CAT : present, sitting around a large open fire.

RIMMER : is fiddling with the Time Drive while LISTER : and CAT :, having ditched

their spacesuits, tuck into hefty chunks of meat]


RIMMER :

It's hopeless, I can't fix it. We're trapped...




CAT :

Chicken's good.


LISTER :

Yeah, really good.


KRYTEN :

That's not chicken, sir.


CAT :

Oh, what is it?


KRYTEN :

It's that man we found.



poison...>


Well, it seemed such a waste to leave him lying there when he'd barbecue

so beautifully.


RIMMER :



KRYTEN :

Did I do wrong? I didn't get any error commands...




Obviously I thought about it, because without my guilt chip or moral

imperatives, I have nothing to guide me. But it seemed to me that if

humanoids eat chicken then obviously they'd eat their own species; otherwise

they'd just be picking on the chicken.


RIMMER :

One minute you're down, the next you're right back up again.


LISTER :

I said I was enjoying that!


CAT :

I knew it didn't smell right! Oh my god...


LISTER :

I'm a cannibal!



fire. It's obviously 'thawed out'>


RIMMER :

Look!


CAT :

Right, lets get out of here! I badly need to floss a piece of roasted

dead person out of my teeth!


RIMMER :

Where to?


KRYTEN :

Hawaii. Let's catch some surf!


LISTER :

No, no, we've got to go back; stop ourselves from interfering with the

assassination.


CAT :

I don't care where we go, just as long as it's before we had dinner!



[-- 20 - Fifth-floor storeroom inside the Texas Book Depository -----------]


[ALL present, sat together around a box of books playing poker. Tense music

plays, and a clock on the wall shows the time as 1:27pm.]


[Enter OSWALD]



head with one hand. Oswald, upon spotting the Dwarfers, uses the long case

he carries on his shoulder to awkwardly cover his face>


CAT :

Decorators. Try up on the sixth floor.


[Exit OSWALD]




KRYTEN :

Stand back, sir, our original selves are about to beam in. When they

realise their mistake they'll beam out again. I propose *we* go down to the

fourth.



[-- 21 - Fourth-floor storeroom inside the Texas Book Depository ----------]


[ALL enter. A room very similar to that up on the fifth.]




LISTER :

First shot!


<...a second and third shot rings out. Again, there is noise and commotion

from the street below>


[Cut POV to outside of building, looking at the Dwarfers at the window]


CAT :

It doesn't smell right, I think he's missed!


RIMMER :

How come?


KRYTEN :

He's right, sir. By sending Oswald up to the sixth, we've made the

trajectory of his shot so steep he's only wounded him.


RIMMER :

Let's start again, and bring him back down to the fifth.


LISTER :

We can't use the fifth: our original selves are destined to beam in there

as he fires his third shot, and this version of us are now on the fourth.


CAT :

We've been copied more times than that poster of the tennis girl

scratching her butt.


LISTER :

If we could arrange, somehow, for a second gunman to fire from just behind

that little hill over there covered in lawn...


KRYTEN :

You mean the, er, the grassy knoll, sir?


LISTER :

That'd solve it, wouldn't it?


CAT :

Shoot the pres?? Who?


RIMMER :

You can count me out.


CAT :

And me.


[Cut to inside of room]


LISTER :

Hang on... maybe, just maybe there's someone who can get us out of this

mess.


RIMMER :

Where are we going?


LISTER :

Idlewild airport, July, '65...



[-- 22 - OB. Day - A runway at Idlewild airport ---------------------------]



into the back of a prison truck. As police lock up tyhe truck, the

Dwarfers beam in, nearby the stationary aircraft.>


[ALL present]


LISTER :

This is right. He's being escorted to Hoover open prison in New York.

Give me *five minutes*.





[-- 23 - Int. JFK's prison truck ------------------------------------------]


[JFK present]


[Enter LISTER :, beamed in by the Time Drive to the bench seat opposite JFK]


LISTER :

Don't be alarmed, sir, but I have a very strange tale to tell.


[FADE. Time passes. Picture returns as Kennedy is speaking]


JOHN F. KENNEDY
I, ah, have had plenty of time to reflect on my deeds in the Whitehouse.

In all important respects I believe I did a good job. 
It was right to plan a pull out of Vietnam, 
to fight for civil rights, and, ah, 
to fight congress, ah, to put a man on the moon. 

It was, ah, wrong however, to, ah,
act like an irresponsible jackass with all those women, and allow my enemies
to wreak havoc on Our Nation.


LISTER :
But I can help, man. 
I mean, Mr. President, man. 
I mean, sir.


KENNEDY
How, ah, can you help?


LISTER :
Well, come with us back to Dallas, 
November 1963, be a second gunman. 
The gunman behind the grassy knoll.


KENNEDY
You mean, assassinate myself?


LISTER :
Yeah! It'll drive the conspiracy nuts crazy, 
but they'll never figure itout.


KENNEDY
But I, ah, still have a future here. 
Jackie left me, but, ah, when I get out 
I can, ah, still make a contribution to The World.


LISTER :
See this airport, Idlewild airport? 
In Our Reality, they renamed it 'JFK', after you. 

Where I come from, 
You're A Liberal Icon
and That's The Person You Should Be. 

But if you're gonna be That Person --
You're gonna have to
Sacrifice Your Life.


KENNEDY :
And only then will my reputation 
be restored in history?


LISTER :
Mm. And I can get a smeggin' curry.


KENNEDY
Ask not what your country can do for you... 
ask what you can do for your country.


LISTER :
Hey, that'd make a pretty neat speech, that.


KENNEDY
It did. Heh heh.



[-- 24 - OB. Day. Behind the grassy knoll in Dallas, 1963 -----------------]


All present. JFK present, he and KRYTEN : dressed in policeman's uniforms hands him what looks like an M-16 rifle, and nods towards the street meaningfully


[MONTAGE.] 
We see the parade roll through the main street once again; Oswald lining up his shot from the sixth floor of the Texas Book Depository and JFK tracking his own vehicle as it moves slowly down the road. 
Oswald fires his first two shots, wounding the president as before. 

This time, however, Kennedy himself takes aim from the grassy knoll - firing his shot moments after Oswald's third, and leaving what would turn out to be a nasty mess on Jackie O's suit...

Kennedy lowers the gun and turns away, 
clearly disturbed, but unreadable beyond that


KENNEDY
I, ah, thank you all for giving me 
the opportunity to, ah, be reborn.



After a short time, he fades from reality. 
The Dwarfers turn away, leaning against 
The White Picket Fence on The Grassy Knoll

LISTER :
Smeg! I forgot to ask 
if there are any curry houses in Dallas!



his head and KRYTEN : nods; after all, there's only so much you can take of

one person... CAT : turns and walks behind LISTER :, whistling innocently.

As RIMMER turns to follow him, he suddenly grabs LISTER and pulls him to the ground - the three of them quickly laying into the curry-deprived one with everything they've got. The nightstick that Kryten carries come in particularly useful...>

The King’s Evil Brother





Don't get clever, Boris.
You don't know him.

Know him. 
Know him.

You don't know him!
You don't know him!

You don't know him! 
You don't know...



Prof. Henry Jones, Jr. :
Ox has got the skull.
Marion, take the wheel.

Henry Jones III :
That's not fair. 
She drove the truck.

Prof. Henry Jones, Jr. :
Don't be a child.
Find something to fight with.

The King’s Evil Brother :
[His Arms, wide — ]
Jonesey!
Jonesey!

Prof. Henry Jones, Jr. :
Hi, Mac.
[PUNCH!]

The King’s Evil Brother :
Indy. Indy! Indy!

Prof. Henry Jones, Jr. :
Shut up! Shut up!


The King’s Evil Brother :
You stupid son of a bitch! 
I'm CIA.

Prof. Henry Jones, Jr. :
CIA?

The King’s Evil Brother :
I almost screamed it at you in the tent.
I said, "Just like Berlin."
What were we in Berlin, mate?

BOTH :
Double agents!


The King’s Evil Brother :
Sorry, Jonesey.

Prof. Henry Jones, Jr. :
So what are you, a triple agent?

The King’s Evil Brother :
Nah, I just lied about being a double.


Ego, The Living Planet :
And that is when I came… to a profound realization. 
My innate desire to seek out other life was not so that I could walk among that life. 

Peter… I have found meaning.

I call it The Expansion. 

It is My Purpose… 
and now it is Yours as well.

Over thousands of years, I implanted thousands of extensions of myself on thousands of worlds. 
I need to fulfill 
Life’s one true purpose… 

To grow and spread… 
covering all that exists… 
until everything is… Me!


I only had one problem :
A single Celestial doesn’t have enough power for such an enterprise. 

But two Celestials… 
Well, now, that just might do.

Out of all my labors, the most beguiling was attempting to graft my DNA with that of another species. 

I hoped the result of such a coupling would be enough to 
Power The Expansion. 

I had Yondu deliver some of them to me. 
It broke the Ravager code, 
but I compensated him generously… 
and to ease his conscience, 
I said I’d never hurt them. 

I mean, that was true. 
They never felt a thing

But one after the other, they failed me. 
Not one of them carried the Celestial genes.

 Until you, Peter.

 Out of all my spawn…
only you carried the connection to The Light.

For the first time in my existence… 
I am truly NOT ALONE! 

[notices Peter's sad expression] 
What is it, son?

Peter Quill: 
My friends.

Ego : 
You see, that’s The Mortal 
in you, Peter.

Quill: 
Yes.

Ego
We are beyond such things.

Quill
Yes.

Ego
Now…

Quill
But My Mother… 
You said you loved My Mother.

Ego
And that I did. 

My river Lily who knew all the words to every song that came over the radio. 

I returned to Earth to see her 3 times. 
And I knew if I returned a fourth… 
I’d never leave. 

The Expansion… 
The Reason for my very existence, 
would be over. 

So, I did what I had to do. 
But it broke my heart to 
put that tumor in her head.


Peter Quill
[hearing this, he breaks off Ego's power] 
What?!?

Ego the Living Planet
Now, all right… 
I know that sounds bad. 

[in rage, Peter fires multiple Element Gun shots at Ego




The Judge and The Prophet Relationship



Stalin’s Favourite 
Pet Psychic Warrior :
You should ask Your Friend that Question.
We're certain he's been there.

Indiana Jones :
Oxley?
Ox, it's me, Indy.

Ox?

Ox, you're faking it, right?

The Judge :
"Through eyes that last I saw in tears..."

Indiana Jones :
Ox, listen to me, pal.
Your Name is Harold Oxley.
You were born in Leeds, England.

You and I went to school together
at the University of Chicago,
and you were never this interesting.

My name is...
My Name is Henry Jones, Jr.



Prof. Henry Jones, Jr. :
What have you done to him?

The King’s Evil Brother :
We ain't done a thing.
It's the bloody skull.

Stalin’s Favourite 
Pet Psychic Warrior :
He is The Divining Rod 
that will lead us to Akator.

But we need someone
to interpret him for us.

His mind, it seems, is quite weak.
Let's hope yours is stronger.

The Skull's Crystal stimulates an
undeveloped part of the human brain,
opening a psychic channel.

Oxley lost control of his mind
by staring too long into its eyes.

We believe you can get through to him
after you have done the same.

Prof. Henry Jones, Jr. :
I've got a better idea. 
You look at it.

Stalin’s Favourite Pet Psychic Warrior :
The Skull does not speak to everyoneit seems.

Surely you're not afraid, Dr. Jones.

You've spent your entire life
searching for answers.

Think of The Truth behind those eyes.

There may be hundreds of skulls at Akator.
Whoever finds them will control 
The Greatest Natural Force
The World has ever known.

Sunday, 1 August 2021

JUPITER






What Things Are Under the Power of Jupiter, 

and Are Called Jovial.


Things under Jupiter, amongst Elements, are the air; amongst humors, blood and the Spirit of Life; also all things which respect the increase, nourishment, and vegetation of the life. Amongst tastes, such as are sweet and pleasant


Amongst metals, tin, silver and gold, by reason of their temperateness


Amongst stones, the hyacinth, beryl, sapphire, emerald, green jasper, and those of airy colors. 


Amongst plants and trees, sea-green, garden basil, bugloss, mace, spike, mint, mastic, elecampane, the violet, darnel, henbane, the poplar-tree, and those which are called lucky trees, as the oak, the æsculus, or horse-chestnut, which is like an oak but much larger; the holm or holly-tree, the beech-tree, the hazel-tree, the service-tree, the white fig-tree, the pear-tree, the apple-tree, the vine, the plum-tree, the ash, the dogwood tree, and the olive-tree, and also oil-tree. 


Also all manner of corn, as barley and wheat; also raisins, licorice, sugar, and all such things whose sweetness is manifest and subtile, partaking somewhat of an astringent and sharp taste, as are nuts, almonds, pine-apples, filberts, pistachio-nuts, roots of peony, myrobalan, rhubarb, and manna; Orpheus adds storax. 


Amongst animals, such as have some stateliness and wisdom in them, and those which are mild, well trained up, and of good dispositions, as the hart and elephant; and those which are gentle, as sheep and lambs


Amongst birds, those that are of a temperate complexion, as hens, together with the yolk of their eggs


Also the partridge, the pheasant, the swallow, the cuckoo, and the stork and pelican, birds given to a kind of devotion, which are emblems of gratitude



The Eagle is dedicated to Jupiter—she is the ensign of emperors, and an emblem of Justice and Clemency


Amongst fish, the dolphin, the fish, called anchia or anchovy; and the sheath or sheat-fish, by reason of his devoutness.


SATURN



Don't go wasting your emotion
Lay all your love on me
Don't go sharing your devotion
Lay all your love on me

Don't go wasting your emotion
Lay all your love on me
Don't go sharing your devotion
Lay all your love on me

Don't go wasting your emotion




What Things Are Saturnine, 
or Under the Power of Saturn.

Saturnine things, amongst Elements, are earth and also water; amongst humors, black choler that is moist, as well natural as adventitious (adust choler excepted). 

Amongst tastes, sour, tart, and dead-like. Amongst metals, lead, and gold, by reason of its weight, and the golden marcasite. 

Amongst stones, the onyx, the ziazza, the camonious, the sapphire, the brown jasper, the chalcedon, the loadstone, and all dark, weighty, earthy things. 

Amongst plants and trees, the daffodil, dragon's-wort, rue, cummin, hellebore, the tree from whence benzoin comes, mandrake, opium, and those things which are never sown, and never bear fruit, and those which bring forth berries of a dark color and black fruit, as the black fig-tree, the pine-tree, the cypress-tree, and a certain tree used at burials, which never springs afresh with berries, rough, of a bitter taste, of a strong smell, of a black shadow, yielding a most sharp pitch, bearing a most unprofitable fruit, never dies with age, deadly, and dedicated to Pluto

As is the herb pas-flower, * with which they were wont, anciently, tostrow the graves before they put the dead bodies into them; wherefore it was lawful to make their garlands at feasts with all herbs and flowers besides pas-flowers, because it was mournful and not conducing to mirth. 

Also all creeping animals, living apart, and solitary, nightly, sad, contemplative, dull, covetous, fearful, melancholy, that take much pains, slow, that feed grossly, and such as eat their young. 

Of these kinds, therefore, are the mole, the wolf, the ass, the toad, the cat, the hog, the bear, the camel, the basilisk, the hare, the ape, the dragon, the mule, all serpents and creeping things, scorpions, ants, and such things as proceed from putrefaction in the earth, in water, or in the ruins of houses, as mice and many sorts of vermin. 

Amongst birds, those are Saturnine which have long necks and harsh voices, as cranes, ostriches, and peacocks, which are dedicated to Saturn and Juno. 

Also the screech-owl, the horned-owl, the bat, the lapwing, the crow, the quail, which is the most envious bird of all. 

Amongst fishes, the eel, living apart from all other fish; the lamprey, the dog-fish, which devours her young; also the tortoise, oysters, cockles, to which may be added sea-sponges and all such things as come of them.

Footnotes
102:* Pas, from the Latin word "passus," meaning step, pace, or "right of going foremost; precedence." Thus the pas-flower means a plant blooming ahead of other flowers. A co-ordinate word is "pascha," meaning to "pass over," giving the name "Passover," or the feast of Easter. "Pasch" comes from and means the same as "pascha," and we read of the "pasch" egg, stained and given to children at Easter, as also of the "pasch" flower of Easter. The Easter flower was also known as the Pash-flower, Paschal-flower, and Pasque-flower—"pash" and "pasque" meaning Easter, and "paschal" pertaining thereto. This indicates that the pas-flower in the above text is identical with the pasque-flower, of the genus Anemone, having large purple flowers, which usually bloom about Easter, stepping foremost in their- order of blooming as regarding other flowers. Agrippa also makes mention here of the pas-flower as being an emblem of mourning as the ancients used it to "strow the graves before they put the dead bodies into them." While the ancients may have held the pas-flower as sacred to the rites of burial, the sense of its use as the Easter flower would indicate that it was also used as an emblem of great joy, and signified a new life for the departed through a new birth or resurrection. A true understanding of the meaning of the feast of the Passover or Easter will show this: Easter-day is always the first Sunday after the fourteenth day of the calendar moon which comes upon or next after the 21st of March; so that if the fourteenth day comes on a Sunday, Easter-day will be the Sunday after. Easter corresponds to the Passover of the Jews, and "most nations still give it this name under the various forms of pascha, pasque, paque, or pask." The feast of the Passover was instituted by the Jews "to commemorate the providential escape of the Hebrews, in Egypt, when God, smiting the first-born of the Egyptians, passed over the houses of the Israelites, which were marked with the blood of the paschal lamb." With the Christian church it is observed to commemorate the "resurrection of Christ." The Old High Germans celebrated the day in honor of Ostara, the goddess of light or spring, whence they called April (the month of or following Easter) Ostarmanoth. The Anglo-Saxons called the same month, Eastermonadh, from Eastre, their name for the same goddess, and their paschal feast, Eastran or Easter. March was named from Mars, the god of war, and was originally the first month of the year as it was in March that the Sun came to Aries, the first House of the Zodiac, emblemized by the lamb, as the ram was the first animal to forage for food and procreate; and the Sun entering p. 103 the first House was the vernal equinox, or the first day of spring, the first season of the fruitful year, and therefore March, being the advent month of light and fecundity, was esteemed as the first month of the year. The first full month of light and spring, when every fetter of winter was riven and spring was opened wide and fixed, was April, from aperio, to open; and also from the Greek word, aphros—foam—from which Venus was said to have sprung, and hence this month was sacred to her; no doubt Ostara and Eastre were identical with her. As Easter-day falls the first Sunday after the fourteenth day of the calendar moon which comes upon or next after the 21st of March, Easter-day usually comes in April and dates its arrival from the aspect of the Moon to the arbitrary date of March 21. This is a very significant fact and is fully confirmed as such when we find that the 21st of March is the usually precise date when the Earth, in its annual movement around the Sun, enters Libra, causing the Sun to apparently enter the opposite House or Sign of Aries, ending winter and ushering in spring, for the first day of spring always comes when the Sun enters Aries. Aries is the House of the lamb, and with the birth of spring the lamb is resurrected or brought to life anew, while winter is dead, the Sun having passed over the meridian line between winter and spring. Further, the word Easter corresponds with Aries, for it springs from the word East, and Aries is the Eastern part of the Zodiac. Therefore, March 21st is the true Eastern-day, but the celebration of the return of spring is fitly deferred until the first Sun-day after about a lunar cycle, so as to partake of the first fruits of the spring season. In view of the foregoing, therefore, the ancients used the pas-flower at the grave as an emblem of the passing over of the winter of old age and the resurrection of the spirit to eternal light and immortal youth. lased as such the pas-flower or pasque-flower typified joy and hope.

Friday, 30 July 2021

Needed



“Final Crisis was a bestseller, but it divided the Internet crowd like Alexander’s sword. 

One outraged reader even confidently predicted that I would, someday soon, be brought to account for the “evil” I had done. 

For a comics fan scorned, it seemed, the measure of evil lay not in genocide or child abuse but in continuity details deliberately overlooked by self-important writers, of plot points insufficiently telegraphed, and themes made opaque or ambiguous.

  If only one-TENTH of the righteous, sputtering wrath of these anonymous zealots could be mustered against the horrors of bigotry or poverty, we might find ourselves OVERNIGHT in A Finer World.



That’ll catch on.”


  “It wasn’t until the turn of the century that a new approach to comic-book villainy crystallized around a single terrible idea that seemed to resonate with the exhausted resignation of the Western imagination: What if the villains had already won? What if the battle between good and evil was now over, with good bleeding and broken in the corner while evil pissed in its old rival’s sobbing face? 

In a world of catastrophic, knee-jerk war politics, typified by moronic medieval terrorists, the apish antics of George W. Bush, and the spinning of his eager-to-please sidekick Tony Blair, it was easy to get on board with this gloomy new paradigm. Better yet, it was a scenario that reinvigorated the superheroes by giving them a real challenge to face. Stories could begin at what was traditionally the end of act 2, with the hero on his knees while a cackling adversary seized his moment to launch the missiles, waken the dead, or threaten the girl. What would we learn by pitting our supermen against the day after the day they let us all down?

  Wanted by Mark Millar and J. G. Jones was Millar’s breakthrough work. He and Jones evoked a world that looked just like our own, but its familiar sidewalks and shopping façades hid a big secret that made horrible sense: Twenty years ago, all the supervillains had decided to gang up on the heroes once and for all. Overcoming their natural hatred and suspicion of one another for just long enough, they pooled mega-brains, billionaire resources, deadly technology, and a dozen foolproof plans for world domination. Thus armed, they overwhelmed the good guys before finishing the job with the help of diabolical superscience and evil five-dimensional magic and rewriting history so no one remembered that superheroes had ever been real. All that remained were their echoes in our comics and movies, mocking reminders of a world lost forever to corruption and greed. Wanted’s gleefully tawdry depiction of the world at its worst asked of its young media-literate audience some pertinent moral questions: If you were given a license that put you beyond the reach of all law and turned the everyday world into a Grand Theft Auto playground where any monstrous, violent, or depraved crime you committed would be covered up, as long as you surrendered to a quasi-Masonic “fraternity” of supervillains with VIP access to the best clubs, the coolest weapons, and the dirtiest birds … How far would you go, fan boy?

  ‘Wanted’ showed an abyss of horror beneath the comforting lies of our everyday world, where a successful coup by comic-book villains explained every rotten politician, every smirking gangster and puffed-up tyrant on the nightly news. For all his growing reputation as a shallow sensationalist, Millar was an altar boy at heart; he used the language of the lowest common denominator to preach hellfire. Wanted was an epic attempted exorcism, but its raw admission of Millar’s own dark-side dreams and its flirtation with a genuinely nihilistic endorsement of every antivalue as the way to “make it” in this world suggested a demon big enough to leave sizable bite marks in any Augustine cassock.

  Wanted articulated a new myth for the hordes of suddenly cool under-achievers who’d been lionized by the rise of “nerd culture.” Big business, media, and fashion were, it seemed, so starved of inspiration, they’d reached down to the very bottom of the social barrel in an attempt to commodify even the most stubborn nonparticipants, the suicide Goths and fiercely antiestablishment nerds. The geeks were in the spotlight now, proudly accepting a derogatory label that directly compared them to degraded freak-show acts. Bullied young men with asthma and shy, bitter virgins with adult-onset diabetes could now gang up like the playground toughs they secretly wanted to be and anonymously abuse and threaten professional writers and actors with family commitments and bills to pay.

  Soon film studios were afraid to move without the approval of the raging Internet masses. 

They represented only the most minuscule fraction of a percentage of the popular audience that gave a shit, but they were very remarkably, superhumanly angry, like the great head of Oz, and so very persistent that they could easily appear in the imagination as an all-conquering army of mean-spirited, judgmental fogies.

  In the shadow of The Tipping Point, Malcolm Gladwell’s immensely influential book on social networks and marketing, nobody wanted to risk bad word of mouth, little realizing that they were reacting, in many cases, to the opinions of a few troublemakers who knew nothing but contempt for the universe and all its contents and could hardly be relied upon to put a positive spin on anything that wasn’t the misery and misfortune of others. 

Too many businesspeople who should have known better began to take seriously the ravings of misinformed, often barely literate malcontents who took revenge on the cruel world by dismissing everything that came their way with the same jaded, geriatric “Meh.”

  The rise of the geeks, with their “SHORT ATTENTION SPANS AND HIGH EXPECTATIONS,” as one New X-Men character put it, was an unstoppable tidal return of the repressed. 

Wanted took upon itself to coldly lay bare the desires of the new elite—which far from being revolutionary were sleazy, self-serving, and viciously cynical. 

Reduced to numbers and screen names, souls stood out in stark relief, revealing an audience that seemed determined to portray itself as hostile, ignorantly self-assured, conformist, and forever unsatisfied in a world of staggering consumer excess. 

It is, of course, telling that I’ve never met any reader at a comic convention who behaved the way many do online, suggesting that the Internet monster is a defensive configuration, like the fan of spikes a tiny fish erects when it feels threatened.

  Wanted’s lead was Wesley Gibson, drawn by J. G. Jones to resemble handsome rapper Eminem with an eye on the movie potential, but who stood for every shy, overweight, underweight, misunderstood kid reveling in the power to trash, denigrate, and insult his imagined enemies—who were just about everybody, especially the creators of the comic books, music, games, and movies that brought to these miserable lives the only meaning they would ever know. Geek royalty. Meet the new boss, same as the old boss.

  Wesley acted out the new porn-fueled fantasies of dumping the fat girlfriend, hooking up with hot sex-mad assassin chicks, raping pretty newsreaders, and Getting Away with It All. At its best, reminiscent of the cool, amused cruelty of a Joe Orton play, the bludgeoning effect of Wanted’s uneasy satire exposed the horrible truth: The fragile, asocial, and different really just wanted to do coke, fuck bimbos, and bully people. 

The revolution had arrived.

  When Millar and Jones concluded Wanted with a full-page close-up of the leering, triumphant Wesley Gibson screaming “THIS IS ME FUCKING YOU IN THE ASS!,” his was the grotesque, swollen face of an outsider culture given the keys to the kingdom and revenge access to all our asses, as endorsed by the same old brute hierarchies. This was a face that any self-respecting boot might wish to stamp down upon eternally, but it was too late. 

Wesley was instead what we would bow down to. Wanted was a searing hymn to the death of integrity and morality, and Wesley’s the victorious face of the New God.