Update from NecroSpace!
I had a very SG-heavy weekend, oddly enough. On Friday, gainsbarre88 was here in Chicago. We met up for coffee and chats that morning, and it was a good time.
Friday night, I flew out of O'Hare to attend a confernece in Maryland. The town was for sucks, and the confernece was even worse. (It's not so much that people thought I was wrong, as their reasons for thinking I was wrong were pretty piss poor IMHO). On a better note, Saturday night I got to hang out with ultra-groovy bredoteau and galvagin. The air was thick with psuedo-intellectual banter and refried beans. What more can you ask for? It was a good time.
Sunday I caught an early flight back to the city, and then spent the same amount of time I spent on the plane trying to catch a shuttle back to Hyde Park. It breaks down like this: the shuttle from O'Hare to the HP sucks balls. If I want to go fast, it makes more sense to cab it. If I want to save money, I could take the El and probably STILL be home faster than on the goddamned shuttle.
On a better Sunday note, my wife and I checked out Brick. And it was fantastic. I posit that between this and Veronica Mars, a new sub-genre has been born: high school noir. And I dig it. High school is a great metaphor for life, b/c we all know what high school is about and to parallels of status, race, class, and authority are all right there waiting to picked up and played with. It's not "real life" looks like high school. It's that high school is our first taste of real life.
Now - there are rents to be paid and books to be read.
I had a very SG-heavy weekend, oddly enough. On Friday, gainsbarre88 was here in Chicago. We met up for coffee and chats that morning, and it was a good time.
Friday night, I flew out of O'Hare to attend a confernece in Maryland. The town was for sucks, and the confernece was even worse. (It's not so much that people thought I was wrong, as their reasons for thinking I was wrong were pretty piss poor IMHO). On a better note, Saturday night I got to hang out with ultra-groovy bredoteau and galvagin. The air was thick with psuedo-intellectual banter and refried beans. What more can you ask for? It was a good time.
Sunday I caught an early flight back to the city, and then spent the same amount of time I spent on the plane trying to catch a shuttle back to Hyde Park. It breaks down like this: the shuttle from O'Hare to the HP sucks balls. If I want to go fast, it makes more sense to cab it. If I want to save money, I could take the El and probably STILL be home faster than on the goddamned shuttle.
On a better Sunday note, my wife and I checked out Brick. And it was fantastic. I posit that between this and Veronica Mars, a new sub-genre has been born: high school noir. And I dig it. High school is a great metaphor for life, b/c we all know what high school is about and to parallels of status, race, class, and authority are all right there waiting to picked up and played with. It's not "real life" looks like high school. It's that high school is our first taste of real life.
Now - there are rents to be paid and books to be read.
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In one of the last pages of the book, Alex is alive and in Gotham City, lurking around the city streets planning his next move aloud to himself. But he walks down an alleyway and runs into Joker and the real Luthor we all know. Joker takes out Alex first with an acid splash from a trick flower, coupled with a blast to the face with his high-powered joy buzzer. While this brief torture scene is going on, Luthor tells his Earth 3 doppleganger that he underestimated some key factors in his grand scheme of reshaping the universe in his image, but his biggest mistake was "not letting the Joker play."
Luthor does all the talking (while Alex begs for mercy), and as he says all of this the Joker pulls out a gun a delivers a fatal shot to the head, simply laughing. A great scene in the tradition of the end of Silence of the Lambs when Hannibal is follwing Dr. Chilton when he's in hiding.