BACK IN CONTROL.

FIRST

We have returned from the mountaintop. We will now resume normal shenanigans, just as soon as our inner ears stop telling us that our townhouse is gently rolling in the blue, blue seas of the Caribbean.

SECOND

This month, it has been ten years since this happened. Accompanying us on our pilgrimage was John Roderick (among other amazing artists), who performed (among other things) this terrific, and terrifically moving, song apropos of 1 February 2003:

(Updated: Replaced original video with actual footage of the performance we saw last Tuesday.)

THAT IS ALL.

Go do this right now

From Twitter:

Even if you’re not a Unix junkie, open a Terminal and type this: traceroute 216.81.59.173 DNS tells a story… /via @gravax @AlecMuffett

Right now. Immediately. (On Windows, use the CMD prompt and “tracert” instead, I believe.)

Things you can’t normally say without getting into a LOT of trouble

Hey, these 1930s syphilis posters remind me of my wife!

Astute Heathen will recall Mrs Heathen’s affection for unusual lunchbox purses; one of her favorites is decorated on all sides with reproductions of some of the posters included in the story above. Our favorite is the excruciatingly correct “WHOM have you exposed to syphilis?”, but they’re all great art-deco delights despite (because of?) the subject matter.

There’s a whole other story of how Erin ended up taking this purse to a super-proper, super-fancy baby shower in Memorial soon after moving to town; neither of us clicked to where the address was, and I had forgotten that K’s parents were rich. Erin showed up in Doc Martens carrying a syphilis purse; it was AWESOME.

This one’s big. It’s still worth looking at.

Metafilter pointed us to The True Costs of Health Care back in November, and I’ve been trying in vain to write intelligently about it since then.

I’ve given up. I don’t think I can add much to the work already done here, other than to suggest you take a look. The so-called Obamacare improves our health care system in terms of access, but it doesn’t do much about costs. That’s the next step. Understanding how the system works now is imperative if we want to figure out how to be more efficient. And becoming more efficient isn’t optional; the growth curve for health care costs under the current system is unsustainable.

Books of 2013 #6: Supergods, by Grant Morrison

Comics geeks know who this guy is already, but for the uninitiated I’ll simply note that he’s one of the most influential comic book writers of the last 25 years. In addition to groundbreaking work on titles like Doom Patrol and Animal Man, Morrison has been a part of some of the biggest names in mainstream comics — he’s penned Superman, Batman, and the X-Men at one point or another, and has generally succeeded both critically and commercially across the board.

He’s a big deal, on par with more mainstream-famous types like Neil Gaiman and Alan Moore. I’ve enjoyed his work for years, so when I discovered — a bit late, as it turns out — that he’d written a sort of combination memoir/history of modern comics, it went right into the to-read pile.

That book — Supergods, which is an awesome title — absolutely delivers, but it does so in a style I can best describe as well-meaning but chronically overwritten. Morrison never uses 5 words when he could use 10. He’s the anti-Hemingway here, and it drags the book down a full letter grade, unfortunately. Even so, for dedicated fans of the medium (and of his work), it remains great fun. I came away with a greater appreciation for the development of the modern form and better understanding of how the Silver Age/Bronze Age stories of my youth functioned as part of the greater whole.

For example, Morrison pulls together lots of sources to give a solid narrative arc to the Golden AgeSilver Age transition, which was mostly just confusing to me as a kid. Back then, reading only the modern, post-Silver Age books, I considered the Golden Age versions of heroes like the Jay Garrick Flash (i.e., the one with the tin hat), or the Alan Scott Green Lantern (the one with the purple cape), to be goofy knock-offs — a huge injustice, since in fact those were the originals. The ones you think of as normal — Green Lantern as a cosmic policeman using alien technology instead of a railway engineer with magic powers — were “re-inventions” done after the more or less wholesale collapse of superhero comics in the late 1940s.

The stories he’s able to tell — by virtue of having been there — about the changes in comics in the 1980s and 1990s are no less interesting, especially when he lays into the Image boys (“The dial was never turned to anything less than total bugfuck hysteria in any given Spawn story”). What he says of Rob Liefeld’s art is too longwinded to retype here, but I laughed out loud several times.

Supergods bogs down a bit in the last portion as Morrison delves a bit too deeply, perhaps, into his own weird occult thing, but in truth it’s a minor sin. It is, after all, his book, and that period of his life shows up on the page as part of The Invisibles, which I’m now meaning to re-read. (Great quote from this era: “By the time I realised I’d become semi-fictional it was too late to defend myself.”)

I can’t really say this is a book for everyone, but it’s definitely worth your time if you are, or have ever been, a devoted fan of modern superhero comics or of Morrison’s own work — which I suppose is par for the course with a memoir like this. Being both, I had a great time despite his sesquipedalian tendencies.

This is. . . unnerving

Motion capture has long been a part of gaming and special effects, but the next-generation process used in the game LA Noire didn’t require weird reflective suits; instead, the cameras just captured the actors. This resulted in shockingly real motion in the game, obviously, but a by-product is an actual outtakes reel that is both fascinating and a little disturbing.

Bonus: Mad Men’s “Ken Cosgrove” is the lead character.

This is really, really, really not okay.

Obama has continued, and expanded, Bush’s position that on Executive say-so, it was okay for them to kill people — Americans — on the grounds that they’re terrorists.

A new memo obtained by NBC paints the broader picture of the thinking involved here, and it is a perfect example of the sort of power you don’t want governments to have. All you have to do is imagine how the worst possible person would abuse such a power.

My kingdom for a better Twitter client!

Right, so, Twitter is fun. I like it. I enjoy the long-term async chat it gives me with my friends near and far, and I enjoy the amusement gained from following assorted famous people.

But.

Some of these famous people — whom I enjoy! — have a tendency to go a little bananas on the RT front, either with “real” retweets or quote-style retweets. Twitter itself will allow you to opt out of receiving a given user’s RTs at all, but this only catches the first kind; if some likes to RT posts with commentary attached, it’s not a RT by Twitter’s definition and it gets through.

The other aspect of the “disable RT” feature that makes it unsatisfactory is that it’s all or nothing, when in fact I like getting the occasional RT of some clever bit shared by someone, or the signal boost of a good cause that someone like Wheaton or Gaiman can provide.

My dream Twitter client is one that allows me to set a threshold for each person I follow (or overall; I won’t get greedy) such that I only see X tweets over Y minutes period, resetting only after the user has been quiet for Z minutes. That way, I’d get the one-off RTs and signal boosts, but I’d be spared the I MUST SHARE EVERYTHING explosions that some people (God love ’em) have been prone to.

Granted, no one is going to write this, let alone now. Something I’d settle for, though, would be the ability to apply new mutes, unfollows, or RT-blocks to the list of tweets already downloaded. That alone would salvage the experience once someone goes RT-happy.

Books of 2013 #5: Going Clear

Going Clear is award-winning journalist Lawrence Wright‘s new book about Scientology, and holy crap should you ever read it. Actually, you should probably read a couple of Wright’s books; the hype and anticipation about this particular book are due in no small part to Wright’s resume — among other things, he wrote The Looming Tower, which is absolutely the definitive history and analysis of the rise of Islamic fundamentalism in the mid-east and central Asia in the years before 9/11. (Seriously; if you haven’t read this book, whatever opinions you have about the sources and causes of modern terrorism in the region — and how it affects us — are absolutely incomplete. Go check it out. For bonus points, read Peter Hopkirk’s The Great Game first; it’s the definitive study of empire gamesmanship in central Asia, and it’s that backdrop that leads into the hornet’s nest the region has become.)

There are other reasons for hype here, too. Most proximately is the celebrity-gossip “what a bunch of kooks” buzz that surrounds modern Scientology, thanks in part to the antics of Tom Cruise. More specifically, though, Wright’s 25,000 word New Yorker (14 February 2011) profile of screenwriter and director Paul Haggis set some pretty high expectations for the book — expectations which I believe are met handily.

Haggis spent 34 years as a Scientologist, starting in his early twenties. He raised his children in the church, and was a vocal supporter and financial backer even after gaining access to the infamous OT III information (famously detailed on South Park). What finally broke his faith, though, was Scientology’s overt support for California’s Proposition 8. As it turns out, Haggis’ two daughters are gay.

After making this break, Haggis had a bit of the zeal of the un-converted, if you will: he was willing to speak in detail and at length about the church, its doctrine, its internal workings, its misbehavior, and the changes wrought within by the ascendency of David Miscavige after the founder’s “departure.” (By the way: they still think he’s coming back.)

I promised a friend of mine I’d write a bit about this one, and then read it in 48 hours and promptly got hyperbusy such that, weeks later, I’ve still said nothing. Fortunately, there are others talking about this book, too; Michael Kinsley’s New York Times review begins with an excellent point:

That crunching sound you hear is Lawrence Wright bending over backward to be fair to Scientology. Every deceptive comparison with Mormonism and other religions is given a respectful hearing. Every ludicrous bit of church dogma is served up deadpan. This makes the book’s indictment that much more powerful.

That’s it, in a nutshell. Wright goes out of his way to be fair, knowing full well that you need only Scientology’s actual words and deeds to paint an accurate picture. This is far and away a different league than, say, the rants of an atheist about Christianity; the core of Scientology is the ravings of a lunatic science fiction author, and it makes the provably fraudulent pronouncements of Joseph Smith look positively tame by comparison. But it’s worse than that, because within this prison of belief operate what are effectively prison camps for backsliding members too afraid to cut ties, where they are held in isolation in fear of violence. More than once, Wright talks to ex-Scientologists who speak of the total isolation and information blackout at work for core Sea Org members — some, upon exit, have never read a book not authored by L. Ron Hubbard.

That kind of isolation alone is an excellent cult hallmark, but it’s not the only thing that marks the CoS as something other than a “regular” religion. To tell the story properly, though, it’s necessary to tell the story of its founder, L. Ron Hubbard, which Wright does in great detail. What becomes immediately clear is that Hubbard was a legitimately brilliant, fascinating and accomplished guy — but also a megalomaniacal compulsive liar, even when the truth wasn’t damaging. He exaggerated his military exploits, his accomplishments, and his education, to hilarious degrees. He was a serial philanderer, and by all accounts a terrible father. There’s more than a hint of narcissism. And, like Joseph Smith before him, when he sought to found a religion for his own benefit, he had the poor planning to make pronouncements that were trivially easy to disprove even within his lifetime (such as the conditions on planet Venus).

Not, of course, that this has limited the Church, apparently. Scientology has become a quintessentially American cult, focussed as it is on Celebrity and wealth. The explosion of celebrity-worship in the late 20th century in some ways seems to have made Scientology almost inevitable, especially since it was really getting started in a period of time when many baby boomers were actively seeking new meaning and structure. There remain no small number of “ordinary” Scientologists who insist the church’s methods — auditing, e.g. — have helped them overcome challenges, meet goals, and achieve success. But the church’s underbelly is a seedy and awful place, so it’s hard not to view even that as the fruit of a poison tree.

The most fascinating fact about this entire phenomenon may be the existence of dedicated Scientologists who have “escaped” the clutches of the mainline church, but who persist in auditing and meeting and study as “independent Scientologists.” For them, the problem is not the church or its doctrine (even Xenu and the intergalactic war); the problem is the cult of personality surrounding Miscavige. They may have a point, but they can’t explain away Xenu, or the thus-far undemonstrated powers supposedly granted to those who have “gone Clear.”

Read this book.

What “astonishingly out of touch” looks like

A recent Wall Street Journal illustration of the upcoming tax changes used four example households.

The lowest household income used? $180,000 per year — for a retired couple! — which is more than 94% of all households.

The other examples:

  • Single person, $230,000 (97th percentile)
  • Single parent, $260,000 (1.5% of all US households)
  • Married couple, $650,000 (top 1% of all households)

Median household income in the US, by the way, is a little over $45,000 per year.

What we don’t talk about when we talk about the debt ceiling

At the Atlantic: The Two Sentences That Should Be Part of All Discussion of the Debt Ceiling:

  1. Raising the debt ceiling does not authorize one single penny in additional public spending.

  2. For Congress to “decide whether” to raise the debt ceiling, for programs and tax rates it has already voted into law, makes exactly as much sense as it would for a family to “decide whether” to pay a credit-card bill for goods it has already bought.

Who the BSA is now

Much has been made lately of the Boy Scouts of America’s retrograde policies regarding gays and lesbians, and they’ve lost lots of funding because of it. Some apologists have tried to make the argument that “well, the national office can say whatever they want, but local groups are free to run things their own way.”

Actually, no. A Maryland Cub Scout pack may lose its charter unless they abandon their explicit nondiscrimination policy.

(MeFi.)

Which reminds me of another bit of Magnolia State pride

On SNL on Saturday, Seth Meyers had this to say during Weekend Update:

Mississippi governor Phil Bryant on Wednesday asked the state legislature to declare President Obama’s new gun control proposals illegal, though I’m not sure if the Mississippi state legislature has that kind of power since it’s just 30 hissing possums in a barn.

It’s funny because it’s true.

Dept. of Madcap TV, Again

We finally finished up American Horror Story last night, and while not as bananas as some of the mid-season eps, the finale didn’t disappoint.

I want to point something out, though, that I didn’t catch until I read the IO9 recap this morning:

The footage of Lana’s expose on Briarcliff is a direct and explicit homage to Geraldo Rivera’s crowning moment of journalism: a similar expose of a place called Willowbrook in Staten Island back in the early 1970s (i.e., the same timeframe when Lana was shooting). It’s almost a shot-for-shot remake, and much of what Lana says by way of narration is more or less exactly what Rivera said in 1972, including the bit about it smelling like death. Even the fonts used are the same.

So, a great end to a fantastically over the top season, absolutely, but slipping this gem of a callback in there is serious extra-credit territory. After all, most people have probably forgotten that Rivera was EVER a real journalist, let alone a Peabody Award winner.

(The IO9 link has the Rivera footage.)

We do not understand the stock market

Apple (AAPL) has just announced its quarterly results. It has had the most profitable year of any company ever, and the fourth most profitable quarter of any company ever. Year over year results were strong. But the analysts didn’t think it was shocking enough, so the stock tanked after hours, dropping below $450 a share (i.e., only a few dollars up from its 52-week low).

At this price, Apple is trading at a P/E of about 10. Its market cap is about $424 billion — and it’s a company sitting on $184 billion in cash, and that fucking prints money like no company ever before it.

And the stock’s taking a beating. I’m thinking it’s buying time. Except, you know, 100-share lots on a $400 stock are kind of a big bet.

Semi-obligatory cat blogging

The HeathenCats are, as you may recall, rather younger than the Ancient Cat well documented in Miscellaneous Heathen’s deep archives. This leads to more activity, apparently.

They don’t get into MUCH trouble, really; they just have some amusing ideas for self-amusement. Cat the Smaller (hereinafter Sari) enjoys stalking and capturing small (and, occasionally, not so small) textiles. This may include socks, Mrs Heathen’s cardigans, towels, small pillows, etc. We find them, occasionally, in a trail going back up the stairs and into our room, particularly if we’ve left laundry to be folded on the bed or in a basket. She is, clearly, very fierce; the items invariably have feline puncture patterns.

Cat the Larger, who is also Cat the Friendlier (hereinafter Wiggs), has been less prone to such hobbies. She has some — the’s a little thieving magpie when it comes to small shiny things — but even that has been sort of rare lately.

Until we left them alone for a week, at Christmas, and boredom set in. It seems Wiggs — who has always been fascinated by water — has discovered that her water bowl contains water, and that if she slides it around, it’ll move in weird ways. That this results in a splattered mess if of no account; it’s a necessary price to pay, we assume, for her important research. Said research has also begun to include the introduction of a single piece of kibble into the water, presumably to test flow patterns. (No, it’s not an accident, and no, it’s never more than one.)

This is adorable and all, but standing water on the wood floor has more annoying features than just wet socks, so we’ve set out to provide alternative methods of distraction. Oh, and a heavier water bowl.

It’s in this pursuit that I realize I have just come home from the pet store with what amounts to two robots to amuse our cats. First is one of these, which automates the already delightfully futuristic fun of cats plus laser pointers. Second is a circular captured-ball toy, but with a little difference: the ball blinks and squeaks in response to motion, which in turn triggers a strong magnet inside the centerpiece that encourages further motion.

It’s safe to say this one is also a success:

2013 01 24 15 29 48 edit

More Evidence That Carmen Ortiz is a Goddamn Disgrace

The politically-ambitious US attorney proximately responsible for Aaron Swartz’s suicide has a history of legal bullying, including an ongoing attempt to seize a locally-owned motel under vague civil forfeiture laws.

Of course, it’s not just Ortiz. It’s entire bully-friendly criminal prosecution infrastructure. Civil forfeiture laws are fucking totalitarian, but law enforcement loves them because it means more toys for them in their endless and feckless drug war.

It’s got to change. But let’s start with Ortiz and her gang.

Who the GOP is

An internal memo makes abundantly clear what many on the left have been pointing out: the only reason the GOP has a House majority is gerrymandering; their own memo notes that Democratic candidates received more than a million more votes than Republican ones in this election.

How does this produce a House majority? District-line chicanery, made possible by stacked state houses. They can’t win on the merits, so they game the rules.

As it turns out, simplicity is HARD

Inspired by the Up Goer Five XKCD cartoon, Ten Hundred Words of Science invites you to review similarly constrained job descriptions, or even contribute your own. It’s harder than it looks.

My own attempt:

On very big jobs like power places or space cars or flying cars , people have a hard time telling how much is done, or how much money it is going to take, before they are finished. They might spend too much money, or take too long, without knowing first, and that makes the people with money mad or sad. This is very bad because of how much money and time these big jobs take.

There is a way to tell, and people have to use it or be in bad trouble, but doing it right is very hard and takes lots of time and hard work. This makes the worker people have to work very very hard, because the big job is hard work already.

We make computers do some of the hard part better than the old way, and better than the old computers, but it is still hard. Computers need help from people. We work with the worker people and ask questions to help them tell the computer how to do the hard thing. People have to work with each other and computers to get the answers, and they have to do it every week or month to keep getting money for the big job.

Then the people who give the money and want the space car or power place or air car come and look at the answers, and say if the big job is doing good.

(Via MeFi.)

In case you’ve heard this little bit of snark, allow Heathen to set you straight

It’s all over the news and opinion feeds that Mitt Romney did not attend the inauguration, and as such was the first losing candidate in 24 years to skip the ceremony.

That’s technically true, but only technically. As Talking Points Memo notes:

But that’s not really fair. By my count, he’s the first losing nominee since Michael Dukakis (24 years ago) who didn’t have a current elected position in DC when he was running. Bush (92), Dole (96), Gore (00), Kerry (04), McCain (08). In other words, the other guys basically had to be there, as presidents, vice presidents or senior members of the Senate.

So slam that job-gobbling Mormon for all sorts of other things, but not this. This one’s not fair.