Mythical Beings, Third Edition

Way back in 1989, I dug out a list of mythological characters that I had put together in college, taking Dr. Nancy Tuana’s Women in Western Thought course at UTD. I wanted to put them into the computer so that I could remember who is/was who in classical myths and keep them all straight when I read Joseph Campbell’s the Hero With 1000 Faces.

After reading Campbell’s book, I was hooked on expanding this little file and adding all the characters I could find in books. Later, I went back and added references and more. The thing grew out of control!

So, anyway, as most people reading this know, I’m doing a third edition of Mythical Beings this year. I’m not sure what I did to deserve all the positive feedback and acclaim that I’ve gotten, but I certainly do appreciate it! I’ve been working very hard, adding some fun stuff to the new one, revising and expanding, checking sources, and otherwise just working on my favourite hobby. I'm up to doing almost an hour a day on the silly thing. I’ve even put a few mythical characters up on Everything2 as I’ve revised them for the book.

As any of you who have ever perused Mythical Beings know, I have a lot of crazy, popular-culture stuff in there. Luke Skywalker, Han Solo, and other characters from the Star Wars films sit next to Loki, Hanuman, and other gods and heroes. In edition two I even added Torgo, the Master, and Roland (the Headless Thompson Gunner).

So, for my Third Edition, I was persueded by a certain (handsome, blond, Plano-living) gentleman of my acquaintance to add some of the wonderous characters from the mind of the late, great JRR Tolkien. Several of my dear friends are helping me out, because the last thing I need is getting called on the carpet for using a name incorrectly or some such thing.

I have also found a self-publishing house. This is distinct from a “vanity press” in that I do not pay them anything at all up front. My work is printed on demand (and at a very reasonable price---copies should retail for about $22) and shipped to people who order them. It all looks very classy, perfect bound (flat spine) trade paperbacks … good stuff.

I spoke with someone I know who is in the legal biz (a couple of someone’s, actually) and they are of the considered opinion that the inclusion of Star Wars, Ghostbusters, and JRR Tolkien characters should not be a problem so long as I add a statement to the copyright page to the effect of:

‘fictional characters are included with humourous intent and no copyright violation is intended …”

bla bla, characters are property of their respective copyright holders.

I’m not too worried about that. Apparently, about the worst thing that they could conceivably do (because my potential profits, a couple bucks a book, are so miniscule) is send me a C&D (a cease and desist notice) and tell me to take their characters out of the book.

But, when I started thinking about it, I thought, "what if a bunch of copies of this sold?"

It would just be my stupid luck to have a success and have to revise it at the last minute because the estate of the Late Professor Tolkien decided they wanted a cut of the action.

So I came up with this solution:

First, I create my third edition as planned. I order copies and my friends order copies and all the people who want one get copies.

Immediately after that, I can make a Third Edition, Second Printing, which would contain a wee bit more serious stuff and none of the silly stuff. That can be the one which I tell clients and E2 people about. Also, not telling E2 people about the first printing means I don’t have to hear about how “all Star Wars movies were so puerile and stupid and bla bla bla bla bla…”

Any of my friends who would say that, already have. And I’ve already stuck out my tongue at them!

Of course, none of this stuff is lost. I keep it all in the main notes, it is just that I can expurgate anything I want before something goes to press. Then I can pull the first printing off the site when the second printing is put to bed, so to speak. I think this solution should keep everyone happy, and if someone decides (by some crazy miracle) to order a couple hundred copies for their college mythology class, then I don’t have to worry that I’ll have Christopher Tolkien’s barristers ringing me up at four in the morning to tell me that I’ve made a mistake.

I may just leave in the Ghostbusters stuff … having Gozer the Gozerian in my myth book is way too fine.

Hey, my friend Wendy found this fascinating little "About me" site. You pick pictures that describe your ultimate things and then it sort of psychoanalyzes you. Check it out.

Read my VisualDNA™ Get your own VisualDNA™

Bumper Sticker Shock

I’ve always enjoyed customizing my stuff. When I was a kid, I would trick out some of my Hot Wheels cars with paint or stickers. I wasn’t all that creative at that age, so mostly it looked pretty crummy, but still … this was not just some toy out of the box, this was my own – mine alone, no one else had one just like it.

As a grown-up I enjoy bumper stickers. I don’t want to be one of those kooky people with fifteen stickers on his car, a few well-placed and presumably clever ads, slogans, esoteric symbols, or obscure quotations will do!

Three and a half years ago, Carl (my younger brother in all but actual genetics) gave me a wonderful bumper sticker as a stocking stuffer: “What Would Cthulhu Do?” Cthulhu, the mad and nearly omnipotent monster god from the wicked and weird worlds of H.P. Lovecraft --- I’ve always had a soft spot for the guy. I put it on my car with pride. That bumper sticker helped me out of a jam one time. I ran out of fuel and a young pagan rescued me, “If that had said WWJD, I’m not sure I’d have stopped.” He said.

I can’t blame him. I’ve been “witnessed” to a few too many times myself.

But Cthulhu’s bumper sticker was looking a bit ratty. I finally removed it, or, more accurately, it just sort of … fell off. Anyway, it left my little white car looking a bit naked, I’m afraid. I have an E2 oval (like those country things GB for Great Britain, SWE for Sweden, that sort of thing…), my Homestar runner window decal, a triple A thing … A couple of bumper stickers would look nice!

Now, I have certain rules about what I will put on my car. Not just any old sticker will do for my little car Jidosha (Japanese for “automobile” I call him “Ji” for short). First, no politics…For one thing, my political beliefs are a death sentence in my hometown. My sister had her car vandalized for putting a Mondale/Ferraro sticker on it. If a relatively mild-mannered dweeb like Fritz Mondale can provoke that kind of response, I shudder to think what they might do to a car with a sticker that supports John Kerry or John Edwards or some other person whom Dallasites fear might usurp the White House.

Also, I would like my bumper sticker to be legible. I love bumper stickers. I love to read them, and I always feel sad if I can’t make out what they say because it is too small, too low-contrast, confusingly rendered, or too complicated. This always fills me with a sense of sadness.

Dear Driver:
I would have loved to read your witty quip, infuriating political statement, silly aphorism, or fun trademarked phrase, but I couldn’t make it out.

Signed,
Kellum

Also, as a former graphics professional, I really want something with at least a bare modicum of taste and design sense.

That brings us to CafePress. Once upon a time, in the bad old days, finding an appropriate bumper sticker, button, or t-shirt required hours of wading through badly-photocopied catalogues full of incredibly geeky fare (I heart James Doohan! I heart Airwolf! My Other Car is a Tardis!). Now, with the Intarwebs, you can type in a word or two and voila! You are transported to a world of wonders!

But what to search on? I really don’t have many hobbies that aren’t so esoteric that no one would have heard of them. What good is an Urban Dead bumper sticker? The Kingdom of Loathing ones are funny, but I just gave one to Suzi (“I stole your accordion!”), so that might be doubling up.

Perhaps I will try mythology. Ahhh … a wonderland! Apart from the “Follow Your Bliss” and the inexplicable “Global Warming is a myth” (people still think that, even after 99% of the scientists on the world have confirmed it? Oh right, there are still people who think the earth was created in seven 24-hour days …), there were many wonderful ones. I selected one that says “Eat. Sleep. Mythology.” … and then I found the MythBusters bumperstickers.

Have you seen this thing? The Discovery channel’s Mythbusters is hosted by two special effects experts tho take urban myths and subject them to some scrutiny: If you talk on the cell phone while pumping gas, will you set yourself on fire? If you are underwater, are you safe from bullets? If you throw a penny off the Empire State Building, will it have the power of a rifle bullet when it hits the pavement below? Are people with piercings human lightning rods? It’s been compared to if JPE and I had a show, although it is sometimes hard to tell which of us would match up with which host.

The Mythbusters team doesn’t “ just tell them myths, they put them to the test” – and very amusingly! They crash things, burn things, drop things out of airplanes … thir stalwart crash test dummy gets electrocuted, burned, dropped, and mutilated a lot of times – but no Mythbusters actually get harmed. Okay, that’s a total lie – host Adam Savage winds up, often through his own fault, getting hurt regularly. They blow up stuff – a LOT of stuff: a cement mixer, a Chinese throne, a pair of pants, a jet of flame, and even a Civil War vintage rocket powered by meat (you think I am kidding???)!!!

So anyway, Suzi and I have gotten into this show. They had bumper stickers, T-shirts, and buttons with every conceivable quatation from the program. They also had the obligatory “I (heart)…” and every member of the cast.

And I wound up ordering this one, a comment from host Adam Savage, who had just been confronted with video evidence that he’d said something he claimed he had not.

"I Reject Your Reality and Substitute my Own!"

Now I can customize my toys to my heart’s content.

(Suzi pointed out that a blog about bumper stickers is kind of a one-two punch of underratedforms of communication! I love them both!)

A new kid in town

The ferret rescue shelter was a whirlwind of little fuzzy creatures when Suzi and I went to visit. How were we to pick one? All the little dancing weasels were so cute it seemed like an insurmountable task.

From a hiding place, a ferret popped up like a snake charmer’s cobra, wanting to get a look at these new humans. His coat was the deep brown of roasted coffee beans and little white stripes on his face gave him a distinctly badger-y appearance.

The lady told us that his name was Cosmo.

Sometimes you pick the pet, sometimes the pet picks you. Cosmo kept his eye on us, played with us, never strayed far from us. We had been adopted.

It’s pretty common to rename pets after you adopt them from a shelter. We try to keep their shelter name as a middle name or nickname. That is why Cassie-cat’s middle name is Annie and Jack is “Jack Casanova” --- a fitting name for our Cajun lover-boy.

Ferrets are extremely skillful thieves – Davey loved bagels and twizzlers (as well as lighters, treats, silverware, and almost anything else that wasn’t tied down), Indiana would make off with any empty Starbucks cups that were in the house. The name Rob was a bit of a subtle pun --- it’s a name, but also a verb. The word “nick” means to filch something … so:

Thus, Nicholas J. Cosmo --- latest entrant into the Eberhard-Johnson household.

Ayumi wasn’t so sure about this new chap. We’d had a bit of bad luck with one from the shelter who was way too rough with her (he had to go back, but I’m sure they’ll find him a nice home!).

She seems to have changed her mind. Looks like little Nick is here to stay!

Pity Party (and a really good movie)

So, apparently I have bronchitis.

I’ve been coughing for years, the result of allergies to pollen and house dust. It comes and goes, as allergies will, with the season. But my cough for the last few weeks has been different.

The cough has been painful, persistent and unrelenting. After I heard from DL that bronchitis was ‘going around,’ I suspected. Thursday night, I did not sleep much, coughing my head off until the muscles of my chest ached.

So, Friday, I went and got looked at by the doctor. After he did some chest x-rays and listened to my lungs extensively (“Inhale deeply…” *breeeeaaathhheee coff! Coff! Exxxhaalll—coff! Coff!), he realised that I was right.

So, I’m having to stay home from work today, which is good, I don’t think I could do a lot of massages today.

But I'm gonna miss the money!

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My mother died two and a half years ago. Her passing was not entirely unexpected, but still painful.

Mom was many things, some of them good, some of them not so good. After her death, I have spent some time re-evaluating her life and forcing myself to admit that Mom was a real pain in the ass quite a lot.

A reformed alcoholic, she had many of the flaws stereotypically associated with that group--- she could be selfish, short-sighted, and given to fits of unreasonable anger. She hated most of my friends, particularly the ones who were the best to me in a pinch, and she never believed in their good qualities. She would often think anything that happened was about her and, of course. someone was always out to get her, out of jealousy, of course.

But she was my mom, and I loved her. And I miss her. Like many good moms do, she gave really good sympathy.

When I feel this crappy, I want nothing more than to call my mommy and hear her say “You poor thing. Now make sure to take your medicine and get lots of sleep and go to the store and get some orange juice…”

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Last night, we saw Taxi Driver for the first time. I’d always heard it was a classic, but I’d skipped it repeatedly, as I suspected that it isn’t my kind of thing. Big movies, important movies often leave me flat as a flounder. This is particularly true of Movies With Something To Say. They leave me scratching my head going “huh?”, so I skip them.

But, being a fan of DeNiro and Scorsese and that crowd, we got Taxi Driver from Netflix and watched it. I have to say, it was remarkable. Despite knowing the whole plot, or so I thought, the ending still surprised me, and DeNiro’s performance as the socially awkward and freaky loner Travis Bickle was every bit as good as people seem to say.

Despite it being A Big Important Movie that Grown-ups Like (I tend to favour kids movies, or things where CGI mosters terrorize people ... that type of thing) I still enjoyed it. And, it was weird to see some of the actors so young! Baby DeNiro! Baby Harvey Keitel! Baby Albert Brooks!

A very interesting and thought-provoking flick.

Everything2, too!

I never seem to get tired of telling the story of how I first found the website that would turn into an obsession and ultimately change my life for the better.

It was late 1999 or maybe early 2000 – the Internet was new…well, it was fairly new to me anyway. I used to love to randomly wander the backroads of the electronic frontier, never knowing where my virtual perambulations would land me. To that end, I would type words, phrases, names, whatever … into a search engine (I think I used Alta Vista at the time) and see where the magic would whisk me off to.

I remember typing ‘cat’ into the search engine. Among the countless hits was cat@everything2.com “What’s this?” says I.

At first glance, it appeared to be a rather comprehensive survey of the cat command from UNIX, which is a command to connect files (concatinate them) together. I’m not much of a fan of UNIX, it reminds me of a job I once held for a year, despite being gossly underqualified for the position. I almost moved on … but “What ho?” There was also a description of the domesticated animal. And a mini-review of B. Klibin’s immortal cartoon book Cat. “Just what exactly is this site anyway ….?”

At the bottom of the page were links. Lots and lots of them, linking the page about cats to other things on the weird site --- fiction, essays, factual pieces, humour … all sorts of strange stuff.

I was hooked.

As the years rolled on, I kept looking things up on Everything2. Anytime I would read a factual book or if I wanted to know about something, I’d go to E2 first --- the writing was consistently better and more entertaining than Wikipedia or the other online resources. It was frequently more interesting than looking in an encyclopedia.

I particularly enjoyed watching VH1 Classic with JCP and Suzi --- a cheesy Heavy Metal video would come on and I would look the band up on E2. The articles were usually written by people who employed phrases such as “I know they’re mostly horrible, but…” and “…guilty pleasure…”

About two and a half years ago, I started writing articles for E2. I did some good work --- I did some not-so-good work. I met some nice people who helped me improve my writing and my self confidence. I learned the arcane lore of Everything 2.

About two weeks ago, the supreme honcho of E2’s day-to-day operations, Lord Brawl (coolest. Screen name. ever.) wrote to me.

“You’ve been well-recommended for the Content Editors team. Are you interested?”

Wow.

I told him to wait, then I wrote to some friends.

In 2 ½ years I’ve made a few friends on E2. Some of them I’ve even met in real life. As they answered my questions and addressed my concerns, a picture started to emerge.

As one friend pointed out: it is not so very different from what I already do on there --- I read, evaluate, write notes to encourage or correct the writer. It’s just that now, I have the tools to really do it: I can hide or remove writeups, I can give rewards to writers as often as I wish (formerly, I could only do this one time per day). But most importantly, I have access to the Editors’ Forum. This allows me to participate in the discussions that will shape E2 in the upcoming times.

Thanks Lord Brawl, I won’t let you down!

Robert Roy McFerret 2001-2007

Sunday morning, sometime around 7:15, our ferret Robbie died. I thought I’d get that out of the way first thing.

In 2001, our first ferret, Davey, died and by summer, we were ready to bring another little friend into our happy household. It was to that end that we stood in a pet shop in Richardson. Six pairs of eyes examined us---twelve tiny perfect jewels behind six little bandit masks. They were the biggest ferret kits I’d ever seen at the time, bigger in fact than Davey had been when he was full grown. The big baby ferrets were the colour of lightly burnt toast, with little pink noses that twitched adorably as they sniffed our hands to try to locate treats.

One of the kits, a gregarious male, had an odd white blaze on his head, shaped very much like a sword! As we had recently enjoyed Liam Neeson’s turn as the eponymous Scots hero in Rob Roy (for about the fifth time), the name seemed ideal for a huge, charismatic rogue*. That little sword really cinched it.

The word ferret derives from roots meaning ‘thief.’ You can see vestages of the Indo-European root (meaning ‘to carry’) in such words as pilfer and filch---it’s appropriate, because ferrets will make off with just about any damned thing in the house.

Robbie started his career in a big way---he started with our hearts.

*In the event that my estimable reader saw, and did not (for some incomprehensible reason) enjoy, this magnificent movie, he or she is cheerfully invited to pretend that I am talking about the 1953 classic, Rob Roy, the Highland Rogue (starring a young Michael Gough, no less!).

There is an axiom among the aficionados of small, domesticated mustalids that the “perfect number of ferrets is always one more.” The old timers call it ‘ferret math’ – that tendency to keep adding one more ferret to the household. We have never succumbed to the lure of four or five ferrets running all over the house---two is a pretty good number for us. Robbie had a chocolate-brown playmate named Indiana (named for Indiana Jones, of course) and later, a little scamp of a ferret girl named Ayumi.

He grew big---really big. Until I saw some ferrets who had been crossbred with polecats (their wild cousins), I had never seen a ferret as big or fit as Robbie. Turns out Rob Roy was indeed a good name for him, even though his little sword faded into a tiny pinstripe over time.

The word that comes to mind when I think of my little mustalid friend Rob is affectionate--- he was a gentle giant in the truest sense of the word. I never saw him bite anyone, unlike Davey, the juvenile delinquent who developed ridiculous nicknames like “Bitey McNibbles” and “Sir Bitesalot” … or tiny Ayumi, for whom play bites are her favourite way of saying “hello.” Robbie’s preferred greeting was licking, nuzzling, and cuddling. He was hard not to love.

In the span of a ferret’s life, six years is a long time---there are some health problems that plague older ferrets.

Monday night, a week ago, Robbie became weak. Past midnight, my stalwart best friend and platonic life partner, Suzi and I had to race down unfamiar freeways to an emergency ferret vet many miles away.

The diagnosis was not particularly cheery: insulinoma. Insulinoma, not rare in older ferrets, is a type of pancreatic cancer. The insulin-producing cells of the pancreas (beta cells I think they’re called. I’m too worn out to go look it up.) grow out of control, flooding the body with too much of the sugar-regulating hormone and leading to a blood sugar crash. It is treatable, but not curable.

Robbie seemed better for a few days, but this was a lot of strain for his little body to go through. Saturday night, he was very weak. We’ve had enough pets to know that this could be the end, we hoped not, but we tried to be realistic.

I’d love to leave this on an optimistic note, or say something clever and creative, but I really don’t feel like it. I’m a little numb. At least it was a quick end, something I guess most of us hope for. At least he had a good long life (six years is not a world record or anything, but it is pretty good for a ferret and the longest any of our four have made it so far). At least … at least … at least.

As with so many pets (and humans too), who have ‘gone before,’ he is gone from this life, but Robbie lives on forever in our hearts.

I close with a quote from a distant acquaintance years ago:

“You don’t own pets. You just pay rent on them until it is time to give them back to God.”