I don’t really have anything to say about this. Here’s a link to the source material, though: http://www.supremecourt.gov/oral_arguments/argument_audio_detail.aspx?argument=11-398-Monday
The premise, in case you’ve forgotten your mid-1990s Showtime programming, is that a team of United States Air Force personnel, plus someone who’s probably a civilian, plus someone who’s an extraterrestrial human with a bit of alien in the belly… Wait…
The Good Guys have a Stargate in the basement of a military complex in a mountain which they use to visit planets-of-the-week and fight the Bad Guys. A Stargate is like a rotary-dial phone you can walk though the rotary part of and end up on a different planet where the bad guys have seeded humans from around the world and throughout time, and where those cultural oddments have totally failed to change in the hundreds or thousands of years they’ve been isolated from their culture of origin.
We’ve seen ten episodes so far, and–to be honest, because why not be honest?–I’m surprised we made it this far. We watched the theatrical movie, and liked it pretty well (despite the final 5-10 minutes having been somehow erased from the public library VHS we were watching). Then we watched the two-hour pilot episode.
This was, largely, a standard-issue sci-fi adventure on another planet movie for the first somewhat more than half. Then there was an extended sequence dominated by naked women being infested by slimy worm puppets. This came (on the scale of shocks one can get from scripted TV) as fairly significant shock to the seven-year-old. We talked about puppetry, he and I, for a few days after that. Things are fine now.
And that’s why SG-1 is the second hour’s show on Geek Night these days.
Where was I?
The subsequent episodes dialed back the grossness rapidly, and dropped the nakedness immediately, so that the next seven episodes were little more than travel brochures for places which were sort-of-but-not-really Petri dishes of old-timey cultures from ’round the world. It’s a “Small World After All” sorts of things, but not as cheerful.
But about as interesting. The character elements felt, if not forced exactly, then… expected. Like kissing your date goodnight because all your friends think you’re such a good fit and all. We started talking about dropping the show, picking something else. A few ideas have floated by: Doctor Who has had a really good run in recent years, and Game of Thrones is now an option.
But the ninth and tenth episodes have been better than that. Maybe SG-1 has hit its stride. There was “Thor’s Hammer” which added some dimension to the back story about the bad guys, the good guys, introduced the possibility of allies for the good guys, and had the Voice of James Earl Jones, which is always like hot fudge topping in that, even if you don’t care for what it’s topping, you can always get at least a little bit of it on your spoon uncontaminated by the rest of it and really enjoy that.
And the tenth one, “The Torment of Tantalus,” was largely a character study of a minor character, but it did pretty well with it. The story of a previously unknown traveler through the Stargate, and what he’s been up to for the last fifty years was nicely done (wandering around naked, and learning to read space alien languages from holographic projections, and eating purple apples). So, next time we have “Bloodlines” on the menu (though the actual menu will be Mexican food). This will be an episode focused on the extraterrestrial human with a bad guy in his belly going home to find his son. We’ll see what happens; after that one, there are something like 203 more episodes, which sounds like a lot.
STAVE I: Tigger Bounces By
TIGGER had long since bounced his last bounce: to begin with. There is no doubt whatever about that. The register of his bounding was signed by the bouncyman, the clerk, the underbouncer, and the chief bouncer. Pooh signed it: and Pooh’s name was good upon ‘Change, for anything he chose to put his hand to. Old Tigger was as bouncy as a door-nail, and half as fun-fun-fun-fun-fun.
Pooh knew he was unsprung? Of course he did. How could it be otherwise? Pooh and he were partners for I don’t know how many years. Pooh was not so dreadfully cut up by the sad event, so long as there was a bit of hunny to be had, and maybe a bit of a ham sandwich on a potato roll with a dollop of mustard.
Pooh never painted out Old Tigger’s name. There it stood, years afterwards, above the warehouse door: Pooh and Tigger. The firm was known as Pooh and Tigger. Sometimes people new to the business called Pooh Pooh, and sometimes Tigger, but he answered to both names. It was all the same to him, he just asked for a small pot of hunny.
Oh! But he was a lump-fisted hand at the hunny-pot, Pooh! a weezing, drenching, gasping, scraping, clutching, covetous, old snacker! Soft and puffy as cotton batting, through which no steel had ever run up except to defend a bite to eat; secret, and self-contained, and solitary as a boiled oyster. The cold within him froze his old features, nipped his roundy black nose, fuzzied up his cheek, stiffened his gait; made his eyes shine, his thin lips nearly invisible amid his trim and twisty whiskers; and spoke out shrewdly in his gentle raspy voice.
Well. In fact, I have decided to pull the rest of this post. I started the “what if Pooh was stuck into the Scrooge roll?” project in, maybe 2010 or 2011. Stave I came quickly, and I posted it on Facebook for the enjoyment of friends.
Stave II the next year, same treatment. I posted Stave I to whichever blogger-hosted blog I was using at that time, as well. Then it got difficult. Staves III and IV are challenging; there’s little about them that’s amusing, and it felt wrong, somehow, to put the residents of the Hundred Acre Wood through the Dickensian palpitations of The Ghost of Christmas Present’s “ignorance and want” scene, and to show Pooh his post-mortem? Yikes.
But I always wanted to complete the project, and get it off my lifetime to-do list. In late 2018, I managed to see a way to do a bit of justice to both Dickens and Milne within the context of this disrespectful project. I finished A Hundred Acre Carol, and shared it with family and close friends, as I had always intended. I am pleased with it, but for public consumption, the first few paragraphs are plenty.
The Phantom of the Opera (I listened to this book… oh maybe twenty years ago when I drove so much. Then I bought it).
Ready Player One (a near-future semidystopian view of what life might be like if our primary goals existed entirely on-line… a friend likes it for the nearly non-stop 1980’s references, I’m finding it almost as good as it should be).
The Gift of Faith: Tending the Spiritual Life of Children (a gift from a couple in the congregation on the day we welcomed out newborn into the congregation).
The House at Pooh Corner (bedtime reading with the Boy-o… and now I want to dig out my Tao of Pooh).
Simmering, awaiting being picked up again:
The Haunted Omnibus (a 1920’s-era collection of ghost stories ranging from the excepts from the One Thousand Nights and One Night, though classical Rome and Shakespeare, and up-to-the-minute-from-90-years-ago).
The Book of God: A Response to the Bible (an old standby).
Being Human Religiously (part way through, and makes it me feel like my brain is mush, and I expect to post more about it when I begin working through it for a second time)
Ulysses (for the first time–honestly, but not seriously)
Our daughter’s infant face (her brother is her favorite, then the ceiling fan, then her mom, then–I hope–me).
Our son’s homework (and his art).
The kitchen sink (always the same story–dishes go in, dishes go out–but I can listen to sermons and the Selected Shorts podcast).
Had a baby.
Whew. She was born mid-June, but was several weeks early. There were a few busy days there right at the beginning, and when things slowed down, I had gotten out of the habit of checking in with my Unitarian Universalist on-line life.
She’s still in a NICU about 200 miles from where we-all live. My wife and our six-year-old are doing AOK, on the whole. They’re staying with my parents about 45 minutes from the hospital. I’m home in northern Michigan, working, and checking in once (sometimes, but rarely, twice) a day.
Girly is well, gaining weight, developing apace, but is still at least a few days, and possibly a few weeks, from being released. I’m grateful she’s generally OK, that the staff at our near-by hospital did such a quick and humane job (first intimation of trouble–6:45 am, baby born–9:45 am), and that she’s getting great care at the big children’s hospital back that-a-way (helicopter depature–5:15 pm).
But the coordinating of a widely-dispersed family has focused on-line time to updates, posting photos for extended family, and the like.
As I mentioned a while ago, we actually joined our congregation. The first two visits my wife had during her hospital stay after the c-section were from members of the congregation that very day, after our son and I had left to meet my parents at the children’s hospital.
I have a couple more ‘what I’ve been doing’ posts up my sleeve, and I hope to get to them within the next week or so.
There’s no such thing as a free-range UU. I took the position that one must be a member of a congregation to be UU at the end of my “What does it mean…” series. Looking at the way the terms are defined and cross-referenced, it seems to me that the only way to be UU is to be a member of a congregation that’s accepted as part of the UUA.
I don’t like such a hard-edged opinion, even if it has the same sort of hard edge as a snuggly down comforter: warm, generally comfortable, and–while not difficult to find–difficult to actually pin down.
But my opinion is not that to be UU, one has to belive X, Y, or Z, or durf, qrtsh, or 8igw:. Or anything. One just has to accept the congregation one is in, and be in a congregation that’s in the UUA.
I don’t even have any particular prejudicial conception of what a congregation has to be. Could there be a congregation of One? (Given the unitarian heritage of the UUA, it seems it should be possible…) Conceptually, I’d have to say–yeah, of course. It’s far from my place to say how there might be a single-individual congregation that could meet standards of UUA associationalism (to make up a word). And doesn’t ‘congregation’ mean, at least in part, ‘more than one?’
There’s already the Church of the Larger Fellowship, so there’s no conceptual reason why there can’t be congregations of membership rather than gathering. To use a dumb-ass model as an example, Blackboard (which some universities use to supplement or substitute for classroom interaction) makes it possible for congregations (if you will) to meet and do their missional work. Which means the obstacles to individuals joining congregations are circumstantial rather than conceptual. On the one side of the relationship maybe the UUA isn’t properly positioned as an organization to cope with congregations that don’t meet someplace. On the other side, maybe notional-but-unaffiliated ‘UUs’ aren’t finding membership congregations because there’s not enough outreach, or they’re not looking to join a congregation of any type (so outreach wouldn’t work), or who-knows?
So correct me. Help me see a way that an individual, outside of a congregation, can be a UU in a way that doesn’t make a hash of what it means to be UU. And in what way is the UUA currently unable to cope with “congregations of membership without place” as opposed to typical congregations?