Monthly Archives: December 2018

Enter: the Legion of Scrooges!

Continuing my immersion in Christmas movies and TV shows, with a particular emphasis on Dickens:

SHOWER OF STARS was a 1950s TV anthology show, and Amazon Prime streams their 1954 adaptation of A Christmas Carol with Fredric March as Scrooge. While March at his best is a terrific actor, he comes off more like a slightly grumpy relative than Dickens’ bitter miser; a bigger problem is that there’s a lot of time devoted to singing and while the voices are good, the songs are forgettable. It also annoys me that like Scrooged, the horror of Christmas Future is simply “you’re going to be dead!” Yeah, who isn’t?  “Days shall come and days shall go/but this is the day of mistletoe!”

THE GIFTS OF CHRISTMAS PAST is a commercial my friend Ross taped for me, in which the title spirit confronts a bad gift-giver with reminders of every rotten gift he ever gave (“Motor oil on a rope — for your mother!”). The solution? Shop at Meijer (a department store, I assume).

A CHRISTMAS CAROL (2015) got my attention because it was Starring Colin Baker, but it turns out that means he introduces and occasionally narrates this bland direct-to-video version (about the level of a so-so community theater production) as Charles Dickens, rather than playing Scrooge. Nothing about it stands out. “This story could happen anywhere — even here!”

GEORGE BURNS COMEDY WEEK was an anthology show with Burns providing the introduction (“Dickens published A Christmas Carol in 1943 — I was 17.”) to Christmas Carol II: The Sequel, in which James Whitmore as Scrooge is so compulsively generous (“That’s the largest tip we’ve ever gotten — and you don’t even eat here!”) the Cratchitts (Roddy McDowell and Samantha Eggar) are slowly going corrupt because it’s so easy to suck money out of Ebenezer. Can the three spirits provide a course correction? A good one to revisit, with Ed Begley Jr. as Tiny Tim. “You will no longer refer to me as Tiny Tim — I wish to be known as Tiny Timothy!”

The classic WKRP IN CINCINNATI episode Bah, Humbug! has the station’s manager Carlson skimping on Christmas bonuses so he can impress the owner with his cost-cutting; after eating one possibly mind-altering brownie he finds himself trapped “in one of those Christmas Carol things” as he looks back at the early years, his current disgruntled staff and the bleak fate awaiting them all …Only it’s all done with real humor and warmth that makes it a pleasure to rewatch (the sitcom remains a classic). “Kids, grandmothers, that’s all very nice — but I’m in it for the bread.”

Moving away from Dickens, BEYOND TOMORROW (1940) has lonely oldsters C. Aubrey Smith, Harry Carey and Charles Winninger befriend two young people on Christmas (hence the more marketable title Beyond Christmas); the kids fall in love but when girl loses boy, will the now deceased seniors’ ghosts be able to turn things around? Mostly shows sappy schmaltz about the season predates Hallmark Channel’s holiday rom-coms, and I could have done without Smith’s embrace of the white man’s burden (“What was Australia before England redeemed it from the Aborigines?”). “And now do you believe in the immortal spirit of man?”

THE CHRISTMAS CALENDAR (2017) has a small-town baker fighting a losing battle against the Big Box Grocery’s new bakery when an advent calendar dropped off by a secret admirer makes her store a media sensation. Forgettable.

HOOVES OF FIRE is a claymation special in which Rudolph’s son Robbie arrives at the North Pole to follow in Dad’s footsteps, only to find a vindictive Blitzen (why should Rudolph be famous for one ride when Blitzen’s been leading the sleigh for years?) out to destroy his career. The kind of thing it’s fun to catch every few years, but not a perennial. “I looked him up in the phone book under ‘Wise Old Mentors Who Can Save The Day.”

CLAYMATION CHRISTMAS CAROL is the delightfully inventive special in which two dinosaurs introduce animated versions of “Carol of the Bells,” “Joy to the World,” “We Three Kings” and “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer” while trying to figure out what “wassail” is. I’d have given this a pass this year, but it was right after WKRP on my off-air tape so I couldn’t resist. “There are no Christmas songs about snacks!”

As TYG watched COYOTE UGLY (2000) I wound up following along and enjoying it more than I expected. Piper Perabo plays an aspiring singer who while waiting for her big break winds up paying the bills by working at Maria Bello’s eponymous bar; too bad strutting her stuff on top of the bar freaks father John Goodman out, not to mention interfering with her efforts to find either an audition or true love. Nothing deathless, but watchable. “Stage fright DNA? That’s right, I saw that on E/R last week.”

#SFWApro. All rights to image remain with current holder.

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Skating along the edge of victory

So this week the only thing I worked on was Southern Discomfort. Well except, Thursday, when I was exhausted and spent the day working on my insanely ambitious goals for next year (I’ll get to that in a future post).

I wrapped up last week with slightly over 50,000 words. I’m finishing this week with slightly under 70,000. Given I have five work days left before 2018 ends, it’s possible I can finish, but I’m not quite as confident as I was last week. Especially as I’ll be working around other holiday distractions. But it’s conceivable I can make it.

I’d be better off, obviously, if I’d spent yesterday working on the book too, but cumulative insomnia finally left me worn out. Last night I took an Ambien, this weekend I should get some solid sleep in (I usually do when I don’t have to work the next day), so fingers crossed. If worst comes to worst, I can wrap it up first week of January without disrupting my other writing plans too much.

While I’ve had a lot of tidying up and cleaning up to do — making sure the reactions and conversations flow logically from moment to moment — I haven’t run into any major plot problems since last week. That’s good; hopefully it’ll stay that way as I work through the rest.

Wish me luck.

Oh, and I’ve had a couple of Christmas-themed posts up at Atomic Junkshop. One on the way Christmas sucks movies to it and one about A Christmas Carol as a story of loneliness

And the Science Fiction Research Association Review gave a great review of Now and Then We Time Travel (“Sherman has put in lots of hard work and produced a very useful reference that is fun to sample—open it to page 125 to find Here Comes Peter Cottontail (1971 stop motion television special with the voices of Vincent Price and Danny Kaye) followed by Peggy Sue Got Married (1986). There are many similar delights of juxtaposition.”)

While I hope that leads to a few more sales, getting such a good review is a delight in itself.

And here’s a photo I’ve been meaning to post for a while. I batted a pillow at Plush dog but instead of chewing it as he usually does, he simply stared at me. And looked adorable doing it.

#SFWApro. All rights to Scrooge and book cover images remain with current holder. Plush photo is mine, please credit me if you use it.

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All around the world it’s almost Christmas

So last week we held the writers’ group Christmas party.

I’ve been hosting since, I believe, 2013. And I like it. TYG and I don’t do a lot of entertaining, so it’s fun to have people over for a change. A minor plus is, of course, that I have to do a big cleaning, getting all the stuff that I never get around to in regular cleaning (dusting, for instance).

Other than cleaning, the set-up is simple. TYG and I provide soft drinks and beer, plus I cook some food. People bring more food, more beer if they want and anything stronger. This year I made roast potatoes with goat cheese and veggie bacon (gluten-free, which is a plus for some of my guests) and chili with cornbread. We ask guests to bring vegetarian fare, and nothing that’s red-flagged for dogs (chocolate, grapes, raisins, almonds); we don’t worry so much about that on a daily basis, but it’s a lot harder to spot spilled chocolate, for example, with 20 people around the house.

Despite the restrictions, everyone had a good time. I signed a copy of Now and Then We Time Travel, we all caught up on what each other was up to, both professionally and personally, and we had the random conversations that people have when they get together. We had around 20 guests, which is a good turnout; as usual, some people showed up at the last minute while a couple of others dropped out.

TYG had an exhausting week so she told me she’d only hang out for thirty minutes or so before heading to bed. As it turned out, she stayed almost three hours, woot! Trixie and Plushie exhausted themselves socializing and chasing toys; by the time TYG went up to bed, Trixie was just lying inert in my lap. I don’t know if it’s because she’s getting a little older that she tires more or all the extra chasing toys.

Sunday we had a cul-de-sac party on our street. A couple of the other homeowners hosted a joint party; TYG skipped this one but I went over and hung out for a couple of hours. I brought some excellent chocolate chunk oatmeal cookies (I’d made them before so I knew they were a sure bet) and met several neighbors I don’t think I’d ever said hi too before. So that was cool.

I used to run out of steam a lot more, but now that I spend most of my time alone with the dogs, I seem to crave social interaction more than I used to. So this was a great weekend. I’m pondering how to work more social events into life in 2019.

#SFWApro. Photos are mine, give credit if you use any.

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Those who prey (and those who enable)

As I’ve written before, sexual predators are able to keep at it because of rape culture. The cumulative effects of a thousand different strains of thought (we can’t let people think this happens in our church! We can’t let a good man be ruined just for one little mistake! It was his first rape, we’ll hit him with serious penalties on #2). It gets even worse when the predators are in a position of authority or standing, giving other people in authority a reason to side with the predator, instead of defending the prey.

When Larry Nassar’s long history of abusing his gymnast patients became public, it was described as victims breaking the silence. But they hadn’t been silent: they’d been reporting Nassar’s actions for years. At the link, a look at how Nassar managed to fool his patients and their parents. Institutional instincts worked to his advantage: USA Gymnastics reported him to the FBI but still kept him as a health provider a year later. And Nassar’s not the only doctor whose career continued despite years of abuse allegations.

For one horrifying case, consider Jeffrey Epstein, Florida multimillionaire. Florida law enforcement put together a case he routinely raped underage girls and had done so for years. The prosecution, headed by Trump cabinet member Alexander Acosta, settled, violating a law that they had to notify the victims first. Epstein got a few years minimum security for having sex with child prostitutes (which as noted at the link implies the victims were all hookers), and was allowed to leave the jail and go his office during the day. And while Acosta deserves flak, the systemic failure is much more widespread. In New York, where Epstein spent part of his time, prosecutors tried to convince a judge that Epstein shouldn’t have to register as a sexual predator (the judge, I’m happy to say, said he did).

Abuse is widespread among Independent Baptist churches and once again, some pastors cover up for other pastors or shift them from church to church (while they don’t have the formal hierarchy Catholics do, a lot of pastors know each other and are willing to lend a helping hand). Slacktivist adds some perspective.

Or consider the Boy Scouts of America, which has been sued for ignoring abuse allegations leveled at Scoutmasters.

Or the possibility that harassment is widespread in academia but covered up to protect powerhouse professors.

Or consider Clint Eastwood’s ex, Sondra Locke, who died last week. She was an actor and a director, but the obits defined her as Eastwood’s ’embittered’ ex. And she had reason to be embittered, as Eastwood abused her and treated her like shit. Jezebel adds more, such as articles mentioning Locke’s abortion but not her claim Eastwood pressured her into getting them. To make it clear, he isn’t as horrifying as Nassar or Epstein, but that’s a low bar to clear.

And then there’s Woody Allen; Hollywood Reporter just published an interview with the sixteen-year-old he was sleeping with (when he was 41) in a real-life analog to Manhattan. Though Englehardt, the young model in question, is very definite she was making her own choices, not being coerced.

As I’ve said before, we’re still a long way from making it unsafe to be a predator. Particularly a predator at the top of the food chain.

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The Strangeness of Strange Sports Stories

Veteran DC editor Julius Schwartz shepherded the Silver Age into being with a stable of heroes including Flash, Green Lantern, Hawkman and Atom. In the 1950s interregnum between the Gold and Silver, Schwartz offered readers two anthology series, Mystery in Space and Strange Adventures. An early SF fan and SF editor, Schwartz had the eye for a story concept that made them both successful. In 1962 he tried another anthology with less success: Strange Sports Stories, which had five try-out issues in Brave and the Bold without making it to series.

Paranormal sports stories make a small but noteworthy subgenre of sports movies, including Angels in the Outfield (god helps a grumpy manager lead his team to victory), Damn Yankees (former baseball player gets his youth back to help his favorite team beat the Yankees), It Happens Every Spring (scientist becames star pitcher through use of a wood-repelling chemical) and Rookie of the Year (freak accident gives kid a super-fastball). The films all accept that using science or magic to win games is morally A-OK, provided the hero wins the last game or the last pitch without their powers, thereby proving that they have the right stuff.

The movies are sports stories with a paranormal element; Schwartz’s five issues (written by veteran writers John Broome and Gardner Fox) were SF stories with a sports element. In “The Hot Shot Hoopsters,” a tight-fisted millionaire agrees to underwrite his alma mater’s new science center if the teen geniuses doing research there prove their bionic research works by becoming basketball champions. With their physical abilities enhanced, they successfully make it to the state championship. Their opponents think they’ve figured out how to neutralize them, but the team has one trick left in store … Rather than win without their powers, the kids prove themselves by being smart in how they use them.

The second story, “Danger on the Martian Links,” is built around the premise that in future golf you always play the ball where it lies, even if it’s in a pool of acid or the edge of a live volcano. A champion golfer not only has to play golf, they have to have a skill set that would put winners on Survivor to shame. When one golfer discovers he’s right in the path of an alien invasion, he plays on, and takes out the aliens in the process.

“Saga of the Secret Sportsmen” looked at a future Earth where sports have been banned in favor of videogames (less risk of injury! It’s for the players own good). A team of athletes trains illegally, in secret — and when a sneak alien attack conquers Earth, their skills are the planet’s last hope.

One distinctive feature of the art (Carmine Infantino primarily) was that in between the panels the story showed silhouettes of the players in action, giving an impression of greater motion than a normal story would.

While the series didn’t make it in the Silver Age, the Bronze was another story. When DC reprinted the original stories in a couple of specials, the sales were so good, Strange Sports Stories became its own book (did the old-school style seem more novel a decade later?). This time it mixed fantasy in with the super-science. In #3, for example, a time-traveling Merlin discovers the Knights high-school football team (composed mostly of nerds dragooned into playing) is hopelessly outmatched against its steroid-case opponents. He gives them invisible armor to even the odds.

In the second story, we visit a future Olympics where pole vaulters actually leap through time; one candidate accidentally leaps all the way back to the 20th century and has to find a way home. Written by Elliot S. Maggin, it’s very true to the spirit of the earlier adventures.

After six issues, this one folded. The title, however, resurrected in 2015 as a Vertigo book, which from what I’ve seen I didn’t care for (as it only lasted four issues, I guess nobody else did).

While the concept doesn’t seem it ever had the strength to sustain a series, the Silver and Bronze Age stories remain a lot of fun.

#SFWApro. Covers by Murphy Anderson, Carmine Infantino (middle two) and Nicholas Cardy.

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Greedo, Stan Lee, Steve Ditko and flawed heroes

Articles about how to write flawed or antiheroic characters usually focus on how to make them acceptable to readers: pit them against worse antagonists, show them transgressing arbitrary rules or challenging an oppressive status quo (I have some added suggestions). But I think it’s also sometimes difficult for us as writers to find them acceptable.

The classic example of this is Star Wars (or Episode IV: A New Hope if you insist). Early in the film (as you probably all know), a bounty hunter named Greedo confronts Han Solo with an eye to collecting the bounty on him. Han draws a gun under the table and shoots Greedo, killing him. It’s not a gunfight; Greedo wasn’t attempting to kill him (though it’s obvious he was ready to) so Han shooting first isn’t self-defense as we usually define it. It shows he’s not a classic hero like Flash Gordon, who’d never have stooped to a dirty trick like that.

Later, though, George Lucas decided that he just couldn’t have one of his heroes do that, and edited the later editions so Greedo shot first. And claimed, falsely, that he’d always planned it that way. Apparently he got retroactive cold feet.

Steve Ditko was similarly uncomfortable with Spider-Man being a fallible regular guy. It was fine to have Spider-Man screw-up and struggle with doing the right thing when he was a high-schooler, but after that? Ditko wanted someone who’d fight for the right without question or pause, and wouldn’t get the wrong end of the lollipop time after time. Ditko was a devout objectivist; while apparently his concept of objectivism stretched to allow for Peter acting unselfishly, but (I gather) he wanted him to be more like the confident super-achievers of Rand’s novels.

Me, I think Greedo shot first. And Stan Lee’s take on Spidey was the right one. Even so, I suspect lots of writers, myself included, grapple with the same kind of questions as Ditko and Lucas. It’s not just about what will sell but what we’re comfortable writing. There’s a whole bunch of slurs I’m not comfortable using, even if it’s appropriate for the character speaking and for the era and situation (I have used them sometimes, but it’s an effort). When I reprinted The Sword of Darcy in Atlas Shagged I rewrote it to have Robert E. Howard Darcy a little less aggressive in the scenes with Elizabeth Bennett. Yeah, he’s Conan with the serial numbers filed off, but him grabbing her in one scene left me feeling like things were a little too non-consensual (I think rewriting got the balance right). I did the same for some of the sex scenes in Dark Satanic Mills.

What Ditko and Lucas was grappling with was more a sense of what a hero should be. Is it okay to fight dirty if you’re on the right side? To put your family first? To take a day off? To enjoy the adulation as much as the good you do? And what are the acceptable flaws? Overconfidence or arrogance work better than, say, writing a repentant racist.

This one of those questions where the right answer depends on who’s writing the story.

#SFWA. Spider-Man cover by Ditko. All rights to images remain with current holder.

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I don’t make predictions about election results

For one thing, predicting results two years out is futile. For another, I hate the way so many pundits fill up columns by speculating on the horse race aspect: not “is this a good idea?” but “how will this play with voters?” I think it’s lazy because speculating about “is X the front runner?” requires much less actual facts than looking at the impact of X’s policies. Never mind that Looks Who’s The Favorite this far out is probably wrong: in 2015 one poll found the favored Republican was Mike Huckabee. Debating whether Sen. Kamala Harris comes off vulnerable enough and whether Beto connects with voters better doesn’t require much detailed analysis or hard facts.

But there’s still lots to speculate about regarding 2020 besides who will win or run. For example, Echidne wonders whether coverage of potential female candidates is harsher than for men, for example a Boston Globe editorial suggesting Warren should think about not running (she’s divisive! We need a unity candidate!) or speculation that taking a DNA test to prove her Native American ancestry has doomed her chances. The post at that last link seems to conclude that as soon as Trump tagged her as “Pocahontas” it was over, though Roy Edroso suggests this is something most voters won’t even care about.

By contrast, we have Republican political strategist Juleanna Glover arguing that a Biden/Romney third-party ticket is just what America needs, and just what could win. Never mind that neither one has done well in past presidential bids, and that they’ve got plenty of baggage (and that, as noted at the link, Glover’s platform would be only slightly to the left of the Republican Party but very far right of the Dems), apparently they’re still vital candidates. Compare that to complaints I’ve seen from mainstream publications that Hilary Clinton should just retire from public life after losing in 2016. Driftglass points out this is a recurring fantasy from conservatives whenever it looks like Democrats are going to move us seriously leftwards.

On the Republican side, Scott Lemieux argues that while the Mueller investigation taking down Michael Cohen is a win, it makes it vital to President Shit-Gibbon that he win re-election; he can’t be indicted while in office and by the time he’s out of power in 2024, the statute of limitations may shield him. So we can anticipate more lies and dirty tricks next time. Of course even that’s not a firm prediction: he could die by then, or step down and let President Pence pardon him and there are other options. But Republicans are still with him and they may back the next white straight male supremacist who follows in his wake.

We can count on some pundits explaining that whatever Democrats are doing they’re doing it wrong. And some Democrat liberals going all out to stop any possible candidate they think is liberal but not liberal enough. Of course Republicans do the same thing with candidates they think “Republican in name only” but they seem to have a better ability to unite behind the winner.

In other election matters:

Andrew Sullivan, a career political writer (and sexist) thinks people and pundits who are not him obsess over politics too much because we don’t have the calming influence of Christian faith. A Vox post at the link makes a solid counter-argument.

North Carolina pastor and Republican candidate Mark Harris allegedly hired someone to collect absentee ballots, throwing away votes for his opponents and filling out some signed blank ballot. The allegations look pretty damn convincing.

To end on an upbeat note: Republican news sources are spinning Donald Trump’s threat of a government shutdown as a win for the Donald. Pelosi, however, beautifully dismisses his wall fixation  “It’s like a manhood thing for him … as if manhood could ever be associated with him. More please, Rep. Pelosi!

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Faith, Venice and theater and more: books read

FAITH: Superstar by Jody Houser and multiple other contributors is fun but not up to the first two collections. It includes a pre-election special in which Faith meets Hilary Clinton, an encounter with an anime-style magical girl and then Faith getting haunted by ghosts of those she’s failed (or … is she?). I think it’s the third arc that keeps this from being as good as its predecessors — it’s a stock premise and doesn’t work as well with Faith’s nerdiness as usual (it’s the kind of trick she should have recognized). However the ever-optimistic, ever-nerdy Faith remains charming throughout.

VENICE: THE LION CITY: The Religion of Empire by Gary Wills is a curate’s egg of a book (i.e., parts of it are very good). Wills looks at the worldview that made Venice and its empire different from similar power players (though he finds it has a lot in common with ancient Athens) such as its heavy reliance on oceanic power to make up for its lack of land, the belief that St. Mark and the Blessed Virgin regarded the city as a special favorite (St. Mark’s basilica, above, was one of many symbols of the saint), its commitment to commerce (Venice largely ignored Papal bans on books rather than squelch the profits the city saw from the book trade) and the efforts they went to to ensure the rulers would put the city ahead of themselves (the doge had to show a lifetime of public service, and the election process makes our electoral college look sensible). However Wills couples all this with an in-depth look at the city’s art to show how it reflects the worldview and this didn’t interest me anywhere near as much. I’m not sure if it’s just that I didn’t pick this up looking for art history or that Wills doesn’t explain it well; certainly better illustrations would have helped.

THEATER by Jacques Burdick was one of my mother’s old books (given to her by the cast of a show she directed), a survey of stage productions styles and game-changers running from ancient Greece through Strindberg, Stanislavsky and Rodgers and Hammerstein with side trips to cover No, Kabuki, and theater in India and China. I enjoyed this, but as Burdick concedes it’s a survey and can’t go deep on any one topic.

STAIRWAY Volume One by Matt Hawkins and Raffaele Ienco was a graphic novel with a good premise but mediocre execution. Billionaire Gregory Hopkins discovers a mysterious message in our junk DNA that enables him to secretly assemble a mysterious cube (secret because it has 666 components and he knows how some people will react) he believes will enable him to save humanity. And if that mission requires enslaving children, kidnapping people or destroying lives, well, you can’t make an omelet without breaking eggs right? This builds well, but it peters off into cliches; also I found Hopkins so loathsome a creature I really wanted him to face worse penalties than he does here.

#SFWAPro. Photo by Nino Barbieri, via Wikimedia Commons under Creative Commons license.

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Rogue Christmas spirits, forgettable Christmas films and more!

KARROLL’S CHRISTMAS (2004) is a fun Christmas Carol riff; Alex Karroll is a disgruntled greeting-card writer who hates Christmas ever since his ex-girlfriend shot down his proposal (in public, no less), only half aware of how badly he’s slipping into bitter depression despite having a new and better girlfriend. When Bob Marley’s ghost shows up (it seems Jacob spent some time in Jamaica as a young man; Bob’s a descendant), it turns out they’ve mistaken Karroll for his even meaner neighbor, Wallace Shawn, so he finds himself dragged into Shawn’s past life instead of his own. Of course the spirit of goodwill wins out, but not before some fun; in its own way as subversive of the conventions as Scrooged. “Your use of the word ‘lunatic’ is very offensive to me and to, well, lunatics.”

Having watched CHASING CHRISTMAS (2004) for Now and Then We Time Travel, I knew it would make a good double bill for the first film; Jack (Tom Arnold) is the Christmas hater this time, due to catching his wife cheating on him during their daughter’s Christmas pageant; unfortunately after Christmas Past (Leslie Jordan) drags Jack back into his childhood, Past snaps, feeling centuries of guilt-tripping people has been completely futile, and strands Arnold in 1965. And if Jack can’t get back to the present before Christmas Day, he’ won’t exist any longer … A fun one, as I thought the first time I watched it.  “I am not some mean old man — I hate Christmas for a reason and no amount of memory is ever going to change that.”

I also caught EVE’S CHRISTMAS (2004) for the book, but I had no memory of that when I decided to stream it. Nor did the first thirty minutes jog my memory as unlucky-in-love Eve gets transported back to right before the wedding to her hometown sweetheart that never happened when she left for a Big Apple job (leaving your home town and not marrying your childhood sweetheart are terrible, terrible, terrible mistake in rom-coms like this). Once I realized I’d seen it, I stopped (trust me, I wasn’t missing anything).

I can’t say THE SANTA CHRONICLES (2018) did any better for me. This made-for-Netflix programmer has two kids attempt to catch Santa result in Mr. Claus losing the hat that gives him his magic powers. Can kids and Santa recover the hat in time to save Christmas? Despite Kurt Russell as a somewhat grump Father Christmas (constantly annoyed that no matter how much he works out, people expect him to be plus-size), this wasn’t worth finishing either.

While I’d planned to rewatch 12 Dates of Christmas it appears I gave that one away with many of the other time-travel DVDs. So instead I went with the old reliable WHITE CHRISTMAS (1954) in which entertainers Danny Kaye and Bing Crosby put on a show to save their former CO’s Vermont Inn, and possibly snag dancers Vera Allen and Rosemary Clooney for themselves. As familiar as an old shoe by now, but there’s no denying the charm of the performances (particularly Kaye and Vera Allen in “Best Things Happen While You’re Dancing”) and the gorgeous Technicolor look. I also found myself thinking of ways it could have gone horribly wrong, like if they’d done the minstrel-show number in actual blackface. “‘Wow’ is somewhere between ‘ouch’ and ‘boing!’”

Another perennial is TWILIGHT ZONE: The Night of the Meek with Art Carney as a burned-out, drunken department-store Santa who gets to play the role for real when he finds a bag that allows him to give everyone the present of their dreams (hmm, where do you suppose it came from? Why, that’s right!). Rewatching, I was struck by the episode’s generosity of spirit; the officious department store-owner is precisely the kind of character who usually gets coal in his stocking in some fashion, but here even he gets a merry Christmas. “Just once, I’d like to see the meek inherit the Earth.”

MR. MAGOO’S CHRISTMAS CAROL (1962) stars the short-sighted cartoon character voiced by Jim Backus as a Broadway star, here performing in an musical adaptation of Dickens. This squeezes in a substantial amount of plot for under an hour, though dropping some details such as Scrooge’s family. Well done, with good songs, though I’m curious what millennials would make of the stylized, simplified style of animation UPA uses here (it was considered quite groundbreaking back in the day). “A hand for each hand was the way it was planned/Why won’t my fingers reach?/A million grains of sand in the world/Why such a lonely beach?”

#SFWApro. All rights to images remain with current holder.

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Wisp says hello

As I said this morning, she showed up, climbed on top of the table (it shelters the heated house, which isn’t waterproof) and peered in at us. We were very relieved to know she was alright.

Another relatively quiet week. I got several Leaf articles done, the most interesting being 1800 words on “Job Duties of a Nun.” And that’s it until 2019; much as I enjoy the dinero, I’m happy to have added time for finishing up Southern Discomfort.

I made it over 50,000 words so I’m past the halfway mark. I think I’ll be done by New Year’s as planned. After all I have two work weeks, less Christmas, and nothing else on my plate. Fingers crossed.

I did run into one major plotting problem but I fixed it fast. First I realized Joan was breaking a promise to her father to stay at home much too casually — for good reasons, but I’d already established she feels duty bound to keep her word. Then I realized that the FBI would probably have a few questions for her, which makes getting out of the house mandatory. Problem solved!

Hopefully they’ll all be that easy.

Oh, and I received a copy of the October/November History Magazine with my story on the history of the Fordson, the first affordable tractor, and how it and its eventual replacement, the Farmall, changed agriculture.

And I spent Thursday while the dogs were out doing some major cleaning to ready the house for the writers’ group Christmas Party Saturday.

Below, Wisp’s tentative check if we were ready to feed her.

#SFWApro. Photos are mine, give credit if you use them.

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