The Colonel T Show

I’ve never really asked anything of you, except of course, for your love.

Today, though, I’m asking you to check out the first novel by my very own brother Brian, entitled Prelude to a Super Airplane. Many of you already read his blog, and now the same charm and wit you find there can be found in convenient book form.

I could cite twenty reasons you should pick up a copy, but I’ll whittle it down to just these three:

1. It’s a terrific read.
2. The book is semi-autobiographical, and indeed features a character named “Colonel T.”
3. The author’s back-page portrait is drawn by none other than yours truly.

Not sold yet? Brian will be publishing excerpts on his aforementioned blog all week. When you’re ready (not if, when) you can read more about the book at its official website, and you can purchase the book online here.

Here is a picture of me, writing this entry and holding the book. Look how happy my hand is!

I’m in a dystopian state of mind. All of my recent media consumption has revolved around human misery and oppression.

On the movie front, I watched Children of Men one night, and V for Vendetta the next. Both films feature Britain as society’s last civilized nation, in a World Gone Mad from war and pestilence. Both films feature thinly veiled indictments of the United States’ invasion of Iraq, where “thinly veiled” translates to “completely transparent”. Both films do not feature Michael Caine as a friendly hermit who enjoys ganja and recreational suicide. One film does though, Children of Men, and as such it is superior.

On the game front, I finished Bioshock, which is a masterpiece. In it, a billionaire industrialist builds a underwater City of Dreams called Rapture, where civilization’s greatest minds will live out their days in enlightened harmony. The player crash lands in the ocean just above the city, and travels down to it via bathysphere to discover Rapture is far from a utopia, indeed, it is a dystopia. Bioshock is a cautionary tale for budding objectivist megalomaniacs. If you are a budding objectivist megalomaniac, you owe it to yourself to give Bioshock a spin.

On the book front, I read Lucifer’s Hammer by Larry Niven and Jerry Pournelle. Published in the late seventies, it tells the tale of a rogue comet that crashes into the Pacific, ending civilization as we know it. Those unlucky enough to survive the floods, earthquakes, plagues, and famines must somehow rebuild a new society from the ashes of the old. Two major factions form in Los Angeles’ San Joaquin Valley, where most of the book’s action takes place. Let me describe these factions for you, and this is where it gets complicated. I hope I’m able to make this comprehensible because it’s awfully complex. The two factions are:

1) White People: Former Senators, Engineers, Scientists, Farmers, Astronauts and Astronomers, all of whom are white, by the way, rebuild greenhouses and dams and fortified strongholds to survive the coming winter and in doing so, forge the beginnings of a new America, filled with white people.

2) Black People: All the black people in Los Angeles become cannibals.

So, let’s review: According to Lucifer’s Hammer, if you are white and therefore skilled, you’re good to go when the big rock slams into Earth. If you are black, you’re going to be dining on your neighbor(s).

I guess Deep Impact had it wrong.

Yep, Lucifer’s Hammer is dripping in racism sauce, and of the 30 or so reviews I’ve read, well over half of them agree with me. It’s pretty hard to deny, and pretty disgusting too. I’ve have no real point to make beyond this. Just warning you that if you, too, enter a dystopian phase, Arthur C. Clarke’s “The Hammer of God” is a far superior and more racially tolerant book about a planet-killing comet with the word “Hammer” in the title.

(To be fair, I’ve heard Pournelle guest on the This Week In Tech podcast several times, and he’s never suggested black people should eat other, so maybe Lucifer’s Hammer was an aberration. It’s no excuse, though.)

I think writing this entry has officially ended my dystopian phase. Time to move on to something else: Ponies!

Some assorted goodies from The Colonel T Files…

– We had Ultrasound Number Two today. The photos are terrible, but the video is hilarious. The photos are terrible because “Baby A” was dancing the entire time, and “Baby 1″ was shaking its butt at the camera. So, the stills are quite blurry. My theory: The younglings totally knew they were getting their pictures taken, and decided to put on a show. Even at a mere 15 weeks of fetushood, the twins have 1) Displayed extraordinary showbiz chops and 2) Proven beyond a shadow of a doubt that they are, in fact, my children.

– I’d like to give a shout-out to my younger sister-in-law. She spent last Wednesday cleaning our basement, which included the unenviable task of breaking down about 60 boxes, and sorting all our dirty laundry. She did this out of the goodness of her heart, and also under orders from her mother. Something about helping Elizabeth prepare for the babies. (I’m apparently not qualified for this work? I don’t know. Feh, family politics. )

That she did the work is fantastic, and I’m certainly grateful, but that’s not what the shout-out is for. While she was here, she manipulated our DVR to perform an act of comedy genius I had no idea she was capable of. She stealthily added “Freddie” to our series recording list. We realized it when we were reviewing our recorded programs, and saw, well, “Freddie” sitting there…taunting us…daring us to watch it…daring us to suffer.

– “Colonel T Show” update: Technical trauma strikes! Until I pick up a new box, I’m doing the entire podcast on a four-year-old laptop. I’ve got everything figured out with the exception of Skype recording. (Skype is the VoIP program I’m using for interviews.) I can record my voice with striking clarity, but not the voice of whomever I’m talking to. This makes for literally one-sided interview segments — hilarious, yes, but not exactly the effect I’m going for. I’ll figure it out eventually, but anyone with experience doing this on a single PC…please offer advice. Google is failing me.

– Meanwhile, I’m still reviewing audition samples for the role of “Female Announcer”. I’ve gotten 12 (twelve) files so far, and every one of them has been great. I won’t be picking the winner until sometime next week , so auditioneers, please hang in there — and if you’ve been hemhawing about sending in a sample, there’s still time. Do it now! coloneltshow@gmail.com

– I need to get a GOOD winter coat. Apparently Winter is really happening this year.

– Finally, I’m looking for book recommendations again. Something non-fiction this time, indeed, let’s go historical…maybe early American history…but no Presidental biographies, please. Hit me with your recommendations in the comments section.

…I quit my job, and started a new one. So did Elizabeth.

…James “Scotty” Doohan died on my birthday. I was 31. He was 85.

…All my “Poker Odyssey” money was lost, save for $.55, which ain’t good for no nothin’.

…I hung out at the beach, throwing rocks by day and singing rock by night.

…I secured celebrity endorsement for my blog (look about two inches to your right, then up or down).

…I started and finished Harry Potter Part VI: Jason Lives.

…There were other random and assorted other happenings not worth mentioning.

Alrighty then. Let’s get back to the big fun, shall we?

My cell phone rang at 6:53AM Central Standard Time. It was The Man, asking me to participate in three conference calls over the next four hours. I obliged, of course, because that’s the kind of man I am. Dedicated. Honorable. Vigilant. If only I hadn’t gone to bed at 3:00AM Central Standard Time, I might have written clear and legible notes. According to one, I’ve adopted a 32-year-old Lebanese transvestite named Jake, and he (she?) will be arriving in the morning.

During one of the calls, I received an email that Roger Ebert’s Fantastic Four review was online, which led to the post immediately below this one. At that point, I hadn’t yet heard about the London bombings, so I assure you, my priorities are straight — the FF movie is not the current event I’m most transfixed on today. Thoughts and condolences to my London readers, the total of which comes to one person, who is happily safe and sound.

I filled out my day with:

- Aimless outdoor meandering.

- Catch-up napping.

- The completion of Arthur C. Clarke’s Rendezvous with Rama, a hard science fiction classic I wholeheartedly recommend without reservation. (That it won the Hugo, Nebula, Campbell, and Jupiter awards, among others, is impressive, sure, but now that it’s got MY recommendation you’ll surely rush out for it.) Unfortunately, its sequels are reputed to suck, hard, and I have no intention of reading them. Clarke co-wrote them with Gentry Lee, whom I’m sure is a lovely man, but I don’t care for books with more than one author. Dilutes the talent, I think.

- Finally, just before writing this entry, I placed sixth in a Texas Hold ‘em tournament, raking in $3.00 on my $1.20 investment. But, as you can tell from my “Poker Odyssey” update to the right, the seed money is dwindling. Fast. I’m not catching cards at all. Maybe my luck has turned.

OH! I nearly forgot! My company is paying out bonuses tomorrow! Drinks on me, if you come to Chicago. If you choose to stay with us you’ll have to share a room with Jake, though. Hopefully you don’t creep out easily.

I know one person who lives in Sri Lanka, and that’s science fiction author and legend Arthur C. Clarke. I’ve been wondering if he survived, or was affected by the tsunamis. At last, he has provided an update on his Foundation Home Page.