Who's Afraid of The Dark Knight?

I'm sure there has already been loads written about TDK, seeing as it is smashing box-office records and all. I've read a fair amount of TDK reviews (and, of course, seen the movie several times) and there's one criticism that has been made of the movie that I find, well, curious (to be charitable).

And that criticism seems to boil down to: The Dark Knight isn't Hamlet.

Surprisingly enough, I've actually seen this criticism in several reviews, but it was particularly glaring in a piece written for the Daily Mail by Chris Tookey (review can be found here). Now, I'm not here to debate the merits of whether Batman in general, or more specifically TDK, has the depth of Hamlet, or even whether TDK deserves to be taken seriously as a work of art (I think it does, but that is a debate for a different time). What I am here to do is criticize this particular argument, as I think it misses the mark.
In criticizing TDK for its lack of real depth, Tookey writes:

"Nolan and his co-writer brother Jonathan evidently think Batman is a figure whose tragic qualities have Shakespearean depth.
But he isn't - mainly because his problems aren't universal enough.
How many of us face the problem of having a split personality, or unlimited wealth, or the responsibility of being solely able to fight the worst kinds of crime?
You can take a character out of a comic-strip, but you can't take the comic-strip out of the character.
Batman is not a tragic hero at all, but an adolescent action-figure with the kind of problems most of us can only dream of having."

Given that the main point of his argument is that "Batman isn't Hamlet," I find this argument rather odd. After all, few of us will ever be in the position Hamlet finds himself in--none of us will ever be a Prince of Denmark, and few amongst us will have our fathers killed by conniving and ambitious uncles. Of course, as most people realize, we don't need to experience the exact same situations as fictional characters in order to find something similar there, to find something that relates to us in a deep way. Much in Batman (and, indeed, in all of superhero lore) touches on issues associated with leading secret lives, alter-egos, and so forth. Even if this isn't "universally relevant" (and I am sure many do find the idea of leading a secret life relevent to their own lives), there is much in TDK that seems certainly universal.
So while none of us may have the wealth that Bruce Wayne has, or the mastery of martial arts, and so forth, it just seems false to say the moral issues dealt with in the film (being a real hero vs. being a perceived hero, what means are appropriate in fighting imjustice and terrorism, being an outcast for doing what is right, to name a few) aren't universal merely because the particular hero Batman isn't universal.

I am also unclear as to what point exactly is being made when we learn that Batman doesn't have the depth of Hamlet. Let's say we grant this, for the sake of argument... so what? Is a novel or play not good, or not art, just because it isn't as good or artistic as Hamlet? There are many works of art that have value--and many deep and interesting protagonists--that don't have the depth of Hamlet.

So is TDK a deep and meaningful work? Maybe, maybe not. But if we're going to even have such a debate, the actual movie and its themes deserve serious scrutiny, rather than the careless dismissal that Tookey gives TDK because it is about a superhero.

Good to Be Bad

IGN posted a list of their "Top 15 Star Wars Villains" (part 1, part 2, part 3).

In this spirit, I thought I would post my list:

15. Nom Anor
14. Jabba the Hutt
13. Exar Kun
12. HK-47
11. General Grievous
10. Darth Caedus
9. Count Dooku
8. Darth Maul
7. Darth Malak
6. Darth Bane
5. Boba Fett
4. Darth Revan
3. Grand Admiral Thrawn
2. Emperor Palpatine
1. Darth Vader


Honorable Mentions go to Darth Nihilus (wish he would have been more developed!), Darth Krayt (kept off the list mostly because I haven't read enough of the Legacy series), and Grand Moff Tarkin (probably should be on this list somewhere).

NBA Playoff Predictions

Meant to post this earlier, but better late than never. Here are my NBA Round 1 predictions:

EAST: Boston over Atlanta in 4, Cleveland over Washington in 7, Orlando over Toronto in 5, Detroit over Philadelphia in 5.

WEST: Los Angeles over Denver in 5, Utah over Houston in 6, Phoenix over San Antonio in 6, Dallas over New Orleans in 6.

My Finals prediction is: Los Angeles over Boston in 6.

Also, go Cavs!

"Only Now, at the End, Do You Understand"

So, I was watching Return of the Jedi earlier tonight on Spike TV, mostly waiting for the best part (entire scene with Luke, Vader, and the Emperor). There are lots of great lines in those scenes, but one of my favorites is the line quoted in the title of the post (said by the Emperor to Luke, while using force lightning on him). For whatever reason, that line always reminds me of the part in 1984 where O'Brien is torturing Winston, and he is telling Winston that the Party desires power only for power's sake, and that he can make Winston believe that 2+2=4. Both scenes are a) creepy, and b) more importantly, they both have heroes who are finally realizing the brutal and evil nature of their enemies (as in, they are just realizing the true nature and depth of the evil).
Anyways, I'm not sure I have much more to add on this topic, just food for thought.

"Wars Not Make One Great" (But They Also Don't Make the Jedi Slavedrivers)

In my last I mentioned that I had some problems with the way Karen Traviss, in her new novel Revelation, characterized the Jedi and their history. The last 40+ pages or so of the book include conversations amongst her Mandolorian characters (including Fett) and Jaina--and, honestly, there is a lot of interesting stuff here worthy of discussion. However, I will limit my comments to two major claims that Traviss seems to make (note: obviously it isn't Traviss herself but her characters that make these claims--that said, similar views are recurrent throughout her books and she seems to in general sympathize with the Mandolorian viewpoint).

1. The Jedi enslaved the Clone Troopers and exploited them during the Clone Wars.

2. All of the Jedi--most specifically Luke Skywalker--lack the moral courage to kill Darth Caedus.

Anyways, on to the first point. I can't seem to find the passage I'm looking for, but when discussing why he left the Jedi Order, Gotab basically says that he couldn't stay after the way the Jedi treated the clones (as exploited slaves) during the Clone Wars. He says that he became close friends, and cared deeply about, his troopers, and was disgusted by the way in which the troopers were treated.
Now, as an anarchist, I'm not sure how much we ought to defend the Jedi for fighting in the Clone Wars. In some respects the conflict seems analogous to the Civil War, and a better plan would have been allowing some substates to secede while using nongovernmental means to fight against the corruption and excesses of the Separatist movement. All of this just underlies a bigger problem with the Jedi Order--namely, that they spend too much time being diplomats for the Republic, enforcing their laws, and not enough time rectifying social evils (e.g., working to end slavery on the Outer Rim in The Phantom Menace).
But the claim that the Jedi were somehow "enslaving" the Clone Troopers--or were the ones somehow most responsible for their mistreatment--seems ridiculous. First of all, contrary to the suggestion that the Jedi and Sith are responsible for all wars, the Clone Wars was a war engineered by the Sith in which the Jedi just happened to fight (it is not as if, say, the jedi started a war in an attempt to exterminate the Sith, a la the Jedis' attempts to elimate the 'Brotherhood of Darkness'). And it is not as if it was the Jedi who were primarily responsible for having Clone Troopers under their command. While the Clone Army was created at the behest of Sifo-Dyas, it was a) without the knowledge or approval of the Jedi Council, and b) quickly integrated into the plans of Dooku and Sidious. It was the Sith who manipulated events such that the Republic would eventually use the Clone Army (note also that the Jedi didn't bring the clones to Geonosis until the Army had been "approved" by the Senate). In the end, it was not the Jedi who jumped to wage war against the Sith with a slave army--it is the Republic more generally who fought back against the Separatists, and the Jedi who--with much reservation--agreed with Palpatine's suggestion to serve as generals of an army that would have been used by the republic regardless of what stance the Jedi took on the war. And a cursory glance through the EU novels in the Clone Wars era suggests that Gotab isn't the only Jedi who befriended his or her clone troopers.


And what of the Jedi's "lack of moral courage"? I feel like there are two related questions here: first, would it be morally acceptable for the Jedi to kill Caedus? And second, are the Jedi morally obligated to kill Caedus? If we are to believe that, say, Luke lacks a certain moral courage, then we would almost certainly have to agree with the latter point--that since he has shown himself to be more powerful than Jacen, and since Jacen is so dangerous, that he is under moral obligation to kill him and end the threat. But this seems implausible to me. First off, if we know nothing else, we know that Caedus is reponsible for the death of the people he kills, not Luke. Just because Luke could have killed Caedus before (he had an easy chance in Inferno, and possinly one in Revelation), that doesn't make him responsible for any subsequent deaths that Jacen causes. Second, making it a moral obligation for someone with the means to kill Caedus, to do so, would require Caedus to assume a much exaggerated role in the galactic conflict. It is not as if, before Jacen turned dark, the galaxy was at peace, and his actions alone started a galactic war. He may be the most extreme and most evil proponent of the war, but it hardly seems to me obvious that assassinating Caedus would either end the war or completely end the suffering that has been wrought. It would, I think, end the war's greatest excesses and violations of conventional warfare and human decency. And, in case, Luke has his reasons for not killing Jacen himself, or allowing Ben to kill him, and his reasons for doing something should never begin nor end with galactic considerations since the heart of ethics is the question of how *I* (or, in Luke Skywalker's case, how *Luke*) should live my life. I think Gotab has the burden of proof in showing this supposed 'duty' to kill Jacen (rather than redeem him, neutralize him, etc. etc.) before he can claim that Luke Skywalker lacks "moral courage."

Thoughts on the latest SW novel

So, I just finished up the latest Star Wars EU novel--Karen Traviss' Revelation in the Legacy of the Force story arc--and I thought I would share my thoughts. Since my comments are filled with *SPOILERS*, I will post them in the comments section.

Star Wars: Episode 2.5?

Good news for the Star Wars fanatics amongs us! As I'm sure many of you already know, an animated Star Wars film is coming to theaters this summer, just before the animated series begins this fall. In general, I will read, watch, or play anything dealing with Star Wars, so this is big news indeed. But, I do have a few minor gripes, the first being that both the upcoming movie as well as the series will be set in the Clone Wars era. It's not that I dislike the Clone Wars era--it's just that this era seems sufficiently covered for my tastes (there is a Dark Horse comic book series,and a Del Rey book series, and of course the Cartoon Network animated series, not to mention the "spinoff" stuff like the Republic Comnnando series). I would vastly prefer something set set either in the KOTOR era, or the post-RotJ era (preferably something during the Thrawn trilogy, or during the NJO). My other little gripe is that the animation looks a little goofy--frankly, I would have preferred computer animation more realistic (more like Advent Children).
But--minor gripes aside--I must say that I am extremely excited.

Welcome to the Circus of Values!

Good article about Bioshock and Objectivist philosophy over at Kotaku. As I'm not an Objectivist, I don't really have much to say about the game's semi-critical attitude towards the philosophy, except insofar as they are more general criticisms of free markets. And even here, it is hard to read anything in Bioshock as a truly substantial criticism of free markets or libertarianism as Andrew Ryan, Rapture's leader and the game's main anatagonist, comes off as a tyrnat and is hardly a libertarian model (likewise I would be be hesitant to call Rapture a "libertarian" society).

Video Games as Art

On July 21st, 2007 Roger Ebert wrote an article in which he declared, in no uncertain terms, that videogames should not be considered art. This is a far grander claim than one might at first realize. Ebert is not merely claiming that, at this very moment, there are no videogames that have attained the lofty status of “high art”; rather, he is claiming that no videogame could ever attain such a status. I think the former question—that of whether any videogames right now ought to be considered ‘art’—is a more open question that is worthy of serious discussion (for those curious, my answer would be a qualified ‘yes’). But I do not wish to tackle this thorny issue—rather, I would like to answer Ebert’s claims with regard to the latter issue, that videogames can never attain the status of high art.
Before addressing Ebert’s claims point-by point, there is a general point that ought to be made. There is a larger question of some importance here, a question that reaches far beyond the scope of this response (it is a question also not addressed by Ebert). This is the fundamental question: what is art? What characteristics makes something ‘art’ but something similar ‘not art’? This is a very important question, not only with regard to the general pursuit of knowledge, but also with regard to attempting to categorize any specific videogame as either art or not. But I don’t think the question is of too much importance in our current task. It is enough, I think, that we note these points about Ebert’s view of art: one, that Ebert clearly thinks that there are objective criteria for what he calls “high art”, and, two, that in general literature and film are capable of attaining this status. If we accept these premises for the sake of argument, then it follows that videogames, too, are capable of being high art.
Why can’t videogames be considered ‘art’? In answering this question, Ebert says:
How do I know this? How many games have I played? I know it by the definition of the vast majority of games. They tend to involve (1) point and shoot in many variations and plotlines, (2) treasure or scavenger hunts, as in "Myst," and (3) player control of the outcome. I don't think these attributes have much to do with art; they have more in common with sports.

This response is problematic for two reasons. First off, Ebert is already making a shift from making a claim about what any videogame could possibly be to a claim about what most videogames right now happen to be. Even if we assume that it is true that, right now, most videogames involve ‘scavenger hunts’, or are nothing but empty shooters, this doesn’t seem to show that videogames can’t be art any more than if it were the case that most literature right now consisted of trashy romance novels. It is also unclear why “point and shoot” mechanics or treasure hunts ought to be grounds to disqualify a game from being considered art. These mechanics, as well as combat mechanics, puzzles, etc. constitute the “active” elements of gaming that makes videogames interactive in a way that novels and films are not. But so what? These are just what makes videogames games, and make them distinct from, say, movies. Ebert has given us no reason to believe that such elements detract from being art, and why should they? If a videogame can tell a story of the same caliber as a novel or movie, why does it matter that you actively “play through” parts of the story (assuming that your play doesn’t change the story—Ebert’s points about ‘player control of the outcome’ may have some merit, and will be addressed later).
Let us move on to some of Ebert’s other points. Many of Ebert’s points in this article are written as a response to comments by Clive Barker, and here Ebert responds to Barkers’s claim that Ebert has a prejudiced view of videogames:

I might suggest that gamers have a prejudiced view of their medium, and particularly what it can be. Games may not be Shakespeare quite yet, but I have the prejudice that they never will be, and some gamers are prejudiced that they will.

Note that, again, Ebert equivocates between claims about what videogames can be and claims about what they are (or will be). He begins by stating that he thinks that gamers have a prejudiced (“misguided”) idea of what games can be, but then claims that he thinks games will not achieve the level of Shakespeare (implying that they of course could).
This aside, does Ebert have a prejudiced view of videogames? Honestly, I wouldn’t know, and I doubt there’s enough information in this article to make that claim. However, I do think that Ebert is pretty ignorant about videogames, and I don’t mean for this comment to be particularly mean or disparaging. After all, he implies that he has never played a videogame, and many of his points in this article belie the fact that he has a misguided view of what many videogames are like. So while I would not call Ebert’s view prejudiced, I would describe it as misinformed.

Let us look at perhaps the most important criticism of videogames-as-art that Ebert makes, one which connects with his earlier point about player-controlled outcome:

I believe art is created by an artist. If you change it, you become the artist. Would "Romeo and Juliet" have been better with a different ending? Rewritten versions of the play were actually produced with happy endings. "King Lear" was also subjected to rewrites; it's such a downer. At this point, taste comes into play. Which version of "Romeo and Juliet," Shakespeare's or Barker's, is superior, deeper, more moving, more "artistic"?

In general, I believe that his point is a good one. In other words, art, on a fundamental level, is created by the artist, and experiences in which a story is left open for someone else to decide (be it a videogame or even a “choose your own adventure” novel) aren’t “high art.” But I question how relevant this point is to videogames in general—while some videogames certainly fall into this category, not all of them do. And more importantly, videogame don’t necessarily involve player control of the outcome, at least in any significant manner. Allow me to expand on this point: it ought to be clear that some changes made by a person don’t affect a work of art’s status as art. If I am reading a Shakespeare play online, and change the text color from black to red, I clearly haven’t made any artistically significant changes. Similarly, if we allow for the moment that a videogame might be art, how I play through the game (how I solve puzzles, what characters I use in battles, whether or not I complete sidequests, etc.) will have no bearing on the game’s esthetic values. The only player-induced changes that could affect a game’s standing as art, I think, are those that are significant changes to the plot or theme of the game’s story. But this isn’t enough to disqualify videogames as a medium from being considered art, since a) many “artistic” games (by which I mean games that one might defeasibly consider art) don’t have any significant player control of outcome (Final Fantasy VII, Metal Gear Solid 2, and Shadow of the Colossus come to mind), and b) many games that have player control of outcome shouldn’t disqualify a game from being considered art. Let me explain what I mean by this. Let us take the game Bioshock as an example, and put aside questions of whether is game ought to be considered art. The point I want to make is that whether or not this game is considered art should have nothing to do with the fact that player choice determines the outcome. Why? Because very little about the story hinges on whether you play the ‘good’ or ‘evil’ route—it pretty much affects only the ending on the most literal interpretation. But what makes Bioshock such an interesting game—the eerie music, the deco-art style, and the twisting and turning story—depends little on how the game “wraps itself up”, so to speak. And Bioshock is not alone, I think, among videogames in which the portion of the outcome that a player can “decide” is really a rather insignificant portion (or which the path the player chooses is disparate enough that making a different choice amounts to playing two different games).

Thus, I do not think it is fair to claim that videogames cannot be art. This isn’t to say that none of Ebert’s points are valid; on the contrary, I think his general insights (and I say “general” partly because he doesn’t discuss this in great depth) on what elements are a necessary component of “high art.” And I would agree that a lot of great video games—perhaps even some of the best video games—could not be considered “high art.” But I vehemently disagree with Ebert’s claim that no video games could ever be considered high art. I think, even on Ebert’s own position, this claim is ultimately untenable. Video games come in all varieties, and many have the same artistic goals (and use similar means to attain these goals) as films and novels.

There are many--and I would count myself among them--who felt that the officials played too large a part in determining the outcome of Monday night's Ravens-Patriots game. Specifically, I am talking about the 4th and 5 defensive holding call. Now, this call is certainly more controversial than, say, the "holding" calls against Pitt from Saturday, not only because the call against the Ravens actually turned a victory into defeat, but also because it is far less clear that the defensive holding call actually was bad.
Peter King, for instance, defended the call, saying:

"Once Watson gets past the 8-yard line, it's illegal for Winborne to have anything but
incidental contact with Watson, but he clearly has an arm on him well past the 8, and all the way into the end zone. Maybe the call should have been holding, maybe the call should have been illegal contact, but it was a legitimate call, not a ticky-tack one."

There are two ways, I think, to interpret what King is saying here when he calls the flag "legitimate" and not "ticky-tack". The first would be that, as per the events he describes, Winborne's actions fit the description of defensive holding, and therefore the call was legitimate (in this scenario, a "ticky-tack" call would involve something, perhaps, that looked like a penalty but strictly speaking was not). The second interpretation is that, with regards to the context in which the penalty was called, the penalty was legitimate.
Before I rebut King's point, let me briefly state my own position, which will in turn clarify my problem with his argument. I subscribe to the 'prevailing' notion that the players, not the officials, should decide ballgames. Absent any concrete circumstances, this can sound vague and rhetorical; but in practice I think it generally means that officiating needs to be contextual. That is, the range of what fouls/penalties/etc. get called might need to change given the context of the game. And I know I am not alone in holding that when a game gets down to the final minute(s), or the last few plays/possessions in a big game, that officials ought to "let the players play", so to speak, and save penalty flags and whistles for only the truly egregious fouls.
So it is important to understand that I (and others who feel similarly) are not necessarily criticizing the defensive holding flag insofar as it was actually a penalty--the criticism isn't that no defensive holding took place (this might be our criticism of the holding calls in the WVU-Pitt game), but that the holding was not egregious enough to be called at such an important juncture of the game. Which is why it matters, to some extent, which interpretation we attribute to King. For on the first interpretation, his point misses the mark, since most are not denying that, technically, defensive holding took place; the call was bad because "ticky-tack" defensive holding shouldn't have been called on a play of this magnitude. If we (perhaps more charitably) attribute the latter meaning to his argument, he is certainly addressing the meat of our argument, but I am not sure that anything he says ultimately supports his point. For the situation he describes (Winborne riding Watson past the 5-yard mark where contact is allowed) doesn't seem to merit a flag within this context. It's fine if King doesn't think that the call was "ticky-tack" like many do--but everything he says merely shows that the flag was correct only in the most technical sense. Which is exactly what people mean when they call a penalty "ticky-tack".

Cardinal's-Eye View

There were some crazy football games this weekend, but it seemed to take place admist some very poor officiating. Pitt beat West Virginia despite what could only be described as the officials' best efforts to give WVU the game (two ridiculously bad holding calls on two of the game's biggest plays, and the second one followed by a pretty questionable no-call on defensive holding against WVU). But, yeah, that outcome was... unexpected.
In any case, I was very happy to see my Rams improve to 3-9 (though maybe I shouldn't be, since at this point we're only costing ourselves draft position...) and Ohio State luck into the championship game. The only thing that ruined it was the Browns losing. Now, granted, they didn't play very well, turned it over four times, so I guess in some sense they 'deserved' to lose--but this game is the type of game that good playoff teams find a way to win, and in a very real sense we should have won that game. And we would have won that game, if not for an extremely bad call at the end of the game. I mean, if I were to give someone a textbook example of what a "force-out" was, this would be the play I would show. If that catch by Kellen Winslow isn't a force-out, then what is? And what was that official even looking at? It looked like he wasn't even watching, like he was expecting the ball to be incomplete-- or perhaps he was in a hurry to get the game over with so he could go collect his giant bag of money from the Cardinals.

Contracts, Abortion, and You

One of the most common arguments, against both libertarian outcry that "taxation is theft" and against abortion, is the 'tacit consent' argument. Essentially, it is posited that by doing some action (in the case of the State and taxation, it is remaining in the country and using tax-funded goods and services; in the case of abortion, it is having consensual sex), you have actually tacitly contracted to do something further (pay taxes or not have an abortion).

Now, I think this is a bad argument for several reasons (and in the not too distant future I hope to elaborate more on this), not the least of which is that these seem like highly improable cases to even consider for a tacit consent argument. But I think one of the biggest problems with such arguments is that they ignore the inalienabilty of our rights. To say that our right to self-ownership is inalienable is to say that that nothing we say or do (or contract) could possibly give up our right of self-ownership. (This is why, for instance, I would argue that on libertarian principles one could never sell oneself into slavery.)
The importance of this point to the matter at hand is that contracts are always 'breakable', in the sense that even if I contract to do X, I could always change my mind. I may owe compensation to the person with whom I contracted, but that person would have no right to force me to do X. Thus, e.g., I might agree to mow my neighbor's lawn. Then, the day that I'm going to mow it, something comes up and I can't do it. I may owe my neighbor compensation for not mowing her lawn and breaking our contract, but my neighbor couldn't use force to make me mow my lawn.
I think this point is apllicable both to arguments against social contract theory, as well as arguments in favor of legalizing abortion. Focusing on the latter, let's assume that a woman having consensual sex is tantamount to 'tacit consent' to bear any child that may come of her actions (I think this is a very weak argument and hard to maintain, but that's a different matter). I still don't think this would be a strong argument against abortion, since the woman has every right to change her mind and break her "contract." Since no contract can take away a person's inalienable right of self-ownership, her 'consent' to bear the child doesn't bar her from the future action of having an abortion.

Miscellaneous Thoughts

1. That San Diego-Indy game was one of the weirder games I can remember watching recently. At this point it seems pretty safe to say that San Diego isn't going to be a threat in the playoffs, since they have no ability to pass the football. Rivers has looked awful every time I've watched him this year. Oh, and Vinitari missing that 29-yarder was absolutely shocking. I was stunned and unable to move for at least 5 minutes.

2. How big was that botched call early in the Ohio State-Illinois game? After OSU went up 7-0 in like 20 seconds, Illinois responded with a 80 yard run to OSU's 3 yard line, at the end of which the runner clearly fumbled and was recovered by Ohio State. For whatever reason, the play wasn't challenged, reviewed, etc. Talk about a game-changing performace; as bad as Ohio State looked that game, I don't think they lose the game if that play is reviewed and they get the ball back, up 7-0 still, ready to add more points at home.

3. After my Rams won on Sunday (actually looking good for once!) I had to entertain wild thoughts about them winning out (their schedule isn't too tough, but they do have Green Bay and Pittsburgh) and slipping into the division title. What's scary, though, is that the scenario, while unrealistic, isn't as unrealistic as it ought to be. San Francisco is terrible (they should be winless right no, as they were completely outplayed in their two wins), Arizona is still Arizona, and Seattle is inconsistent and overrated. That said, the Rams probably won't win out (they were 0-8 before Sunday for more reasons than massive injuries), andd Seattle will probably end up better than 8-8 (though maybe not by much). But I have to keep the dream alive!

4. I just finished reading Dune; not exactly sure what to think about it. It was definitely good, but I felt like maybe it was not quite as good as I was expecting/hoping. I plan on watching the movie (the mini-series one) soon, so maybe I'll have more thoughts after that.

5. The new Lego Star Wars game, like all the ones before it, is way more fun than it has any right to be. Honestly, I'd probably keep playing it for the next month or so, except that both Mass Effect (Nov 20th) and the new Star Wars: Legacy of the Force novel (Nov 27th) are out soon.

6. Speaking of Mass Effect, I'm currently reading the prequel-novel thing (by Drew Karpyshyn, also the author of the Darth Bane Star Wars EU novel). So far, so good, and I can't wait for Mass Effect.

Seriously?

Last Sunday, I had a choice between watching the local Cleveland Browns (playing against my hapless and injury-depleted St. Louis Rams) and watching the Bears-Lions game. Now, I wouldn't call the Bears-Lions a terrible game, but it isn't a game that's going to excite many people outside of Detroit and Chicago. *Especially* Cleveland fans who don't really care what happens in the NFC North.
This weekend, the very same Cleveland market is being denied the Patriots-Colts game (which should but won't be airing in Cleveland opposite the Browns at 4:00 ET).
So let me get this straight: last weekend, it was okay to show a game opposite the Browns, when that game was insignificant. But when there's a really really good game that people might want to actually watch (one of the most anticipated regular season games in NFL history!) it won't be aired because the Browns-Seahawks game is on at the same time on another station. Who comes up with this asinine bullshit? I will pass on a rant here about the monopolies that help bring about such ridiculousness (suffice to say that I think intellectual property rights have a lot to do with this dire situation; I'll try and say more about this later). I will say, though, that this is the type of frusterating thing that legitimately makes me want to boycott the NFL. Unfortunately (or perhaps fortunately), I think I love football too much to do that.

The Eternal Struggle?

Gregg Easterbrook (aka Tuesday Morning Quarterback on ESPN) had an interesting take on the Pats-Colts rivalry in his most recent column. In essence, he argues that the Colts and Patriots rivalry has become a classic battle of Good (the Colts) vs. Evil (the Patriots). I won't go into the merits of his particular arguments here, but I more or less agree with his point (though perhaps not to the extent that he takes it). I should add, though, that I have a longstanding anti-Pats bias, one that has not been helped by the Red Sox narrowly defeating my Indians in the ALCS.

Anyways, I found the article interesting for two main reasons. One, I was pleased to see that I wasn't the only one who was more than sick of hearing about New England, and hadn't so quickly forgotten about their cheating and how arrogant Belicheck can be. And two (this being the main one), I found it interesting how drastically the Patriots' image has changed. Back when they won their first ring, they were the 'ultimate team'--humble and selfless, composed of no-name players who thrived on coaching and hard work. They were the "complete team", that year in and year out were able to one-up Manning and the Colts. The Colts were, of course, the exact opposite--a flashy, finesse offense studded with stars like Manning and Harrison, trying to outscore opponents who generally could put up serious points against their inadequate defense. Boy, how time have changed! As Harrison has aged, the offense has really become more complete; it has blossomed into something that isn't dependent on drop-back passes, or on the speed of Harrison and Wayne, etc. Likewise, as their Super Bowl run showed, their defense can handle hard-nosed running teams and high-scoring offenses alike. And what about the Patriots? Well, the cheating scandal has certainly changed how many view them, but that aside, their offense has become more and more finesse while their D doesn't seem as dominant as in years past (not to say that it isn't good; it is).

Anyways, I found it interesting how the roles have been reversed in this case, and I think changes both in the teams' style of play, as well as coaches' deamanor (and, of course, whether or not they've been caught cheating) have brought about this change in view.

Final Fantasy Tactics: Take 2

In addition to finally getting on Xbox Live and playing some Halo 3, I've been playing a fair amount of Final Fantasy Tactics: The War of the Lions. The original FFT has long been one of my favorite games, and--thus far at least--the remake (or 'enhanced port' as they call it) has some nice improvements. For those who have played the original, the main differences are the added cutscenes, some new classes and weapons, and much improved dialogue.
Anyways, assuming the remake continues to capture the awesomeness of the original, I highly recommend playing it. Final Fantasy Tactics, in addition to being an enjoyable strategy-RPG, has one of the best storylines in any video game I've played. With political intrigue and betrayal, numerous plot twists, and in-batttle philosophical discussions about social inequality, it is one of the few games I've genuinely wished would just keep going.

Salutations!

Just thought I'd begin my new blog by greeting any readers out there. I also reposted the sole post from my old blog. I am hoping, this time around, to actually post on a consistent basis.

Fear Will Keep the Local Systems in Line

"People shouldn't be afraid of their governments. Governments should be afraid of their people."I just watched V for Vendetta again last night (for like the sixth time, and it's not even out on dvd yet :-) ) It's one of my favorite movies, and every time I watch it I can't help but see the similarities between it and my other favorite movie(s), Star Wars. On the one hand, this is to be expected, since both movies have libertarian themes. But what I find interesting is that they both focus on the same libertarian theme--the idea that government
capitalizes and survives by producing fear in its citizens. In V for Vendetta, we see the way that the government manipulates the people by actually using biological weapons against them, and then "saves the day"--the government just "happens" to have the only available cure.
In Star Wars (speaking of the entire saga, and not just the original), Palpatine, as powerful as he is, cannot just declare himself Emperor and receive immediate obedience. Rather, he must first make people afraid--and it is to this end that he designs the entire Clone Wars. Star Wars shows how government uses War as an excuse to consolidate and increase its power. And, perhaps more cynically, it shows how government itself is often behind the war in the first place. Of course, after Palpatine's rise to complete power (only made posible by War and the production of fear), he keeps his power by keeping the citizens afraid. Afraid, of course, of the power of the Death Star (much like in V for Vendetta, in which the people are afraid of the government's sheer brutality--curfews, executions, black-bagging, and so forth).

And, of course, I do not think that the examples of the use of fear in either movie should be seen as examples of how a particularly evil government might operate. Rather, we ought to view them as particularly nasty instances of how centralized government must operate. Not every government uses biological attacks on its own citizens--but virtually all deceive their citizens into thinking that, without government's help and good grace, chaos would ensue, free markets would become plague-ridden with huge monopolies, medical care would only be available to the wealthiest of the wealthy, and that the nation would be forever at the mercy of any other nation who wished to invade. By keeping people afraid of being free, government entrenches itself as "the answer" to which people look when confronted with War, Famine, Disease, Poverty, and so forth. But so long as we continue to look to government to solve such problems, we will be at the mercy of the gang of thieves that creates these problems in the first place.