George Carlin

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George Carlin
The Official Home of George Carlin

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(1972) FM & AM
(1972) Class Clown
(1974) Toledo Window Box
(1996) Back in Town

FM & AM (1972)
Rating: Kinda Bad

George Carlin - FM & AM

FM & AM. As in, two halves. FM, the first half, presents Carlin’s new raunchy material. AM, the second half, presents Carlin’s old cutesy material. Prior to this, he had worked with partner Jack Burns on a lot of clean-cut radio-friendly mainstream comedy. The release of FM & AM marked Carlin’s transition from the suit-and-tie mainstream to the long-haired, bearded counterculture. Signing onto the Little David label completed this transition, and this is where he would stay for the next five years.

This album was absolutely ground-breaking for its time. Lenny Bruce was already dead by now, and his discography was fairly underground. Richard Pryor had only recently de-Cosbyfied his act. Carlin’s audio representation of his culutural transition was a huge step in the comedian’s progress, and for that the historical significance is inarguable.

That being said, I have a few problems with it. First of all, I’m knocking an entire rating level down due to the recording being completely in stereo. Carlin in the left channel, the audience in the right. What the fuck is that about? This is the least immersive comedy album listening experience I can think of, and I’m including those Bill Hicks albums with the shitty easy-listening music swirling around the recording. Second of all, I hate to do this, but a lot of these bits are dated beyond contemporary enjoyment. It’s not particularly fun to listen to him riff on commercials that are 50 years old, nor is it interesting to hear a few minutes on Ed Sullivan. Later, Carlin would be better at weaving timeless jokes into topical discussions (I’m thinking the Bush-bashing on Jammin’ in New York), but here there’s not much more to it than surface-level of-its-time material.

There’s a lot of wordplay focus on the FM side. Some of it is funny (“No one ever uses the word ‘shit’ literally, you know? It’s always figurative speech. ‘Hey, get that shit outta here, will ya? Just move that shit out of the way. I don’t wanna hear that shit. I don’t wanna take that shit. You’re full of shit…“), some of it is kind of annoying (“I’m aware some stare at my hair. In fact, to be fair, some really despair of my hair. But I don’t care, ’cause they’re not aware nor are they debonair. In fact, they’re just square.”), but it goes to show how little Carlin had changed over the years. Nothing too philosophically deep or societally relevant happens on FM & AM except a chunk on “Birth Control”, which eventually devolves into more wordplay. Preg-Not! Embry-No! Nary a Carry! Nay, Family Way! Mom Bomb! Junior Miss! Inconceivable! Mommy Not! Fetus Fail! Kiddie Kill! Poppa Stopper! Womb Broom! Humpty Dumpty! There, now you don’t need to listen.

Bottom line? It’s cutesy and culturally inessential by modern standards. If you’re collecting Carlin albums, put this one near the end.

Class Clown (1972)
Rating: Very Good

George Carlin - Class Clown

Here it is, the one with the most famous Carlin routine of all time. It may even be the most famous stand-up routine of all time. I can’t think of anything more iconic than “Seven Words You Can Never Say On Television”. As a side note, I think we’re down to just “fuck”, “cunt”, and “motherfucker” here in 2024, at the time this review was written. We’re getting closer! Keep whittling that list down, society! Unless you’ve been living under a butt, you already know all about this bit, so I won’t belabor the details here. Yeah, though, it was one of the most important comedy routines in recorded history AND he does it without being purposefully racist, obscene, and subversive like your average Lenny Bruce skit. Here, Carlin makes the word “cunt” sound academic.

Of the early albums, the ones on Little David record label, Class Clown takes the top spot easily. Unlike many others, the material here is quite timeless and relatable even to some punk like me who was born in 1987 and listened to this for the first time when he was 15 years old.

Carlin spends the first sixteen minutes (!) on the civic duties of a class clown, such as armpit farting, nose humming, and anything else that would “ATTRACT ATTENTION TO YOURSELF!” He even cracks his knuckles into the microphone, which is extremely gross, actually. He talks about his own stint as a class clown, which leads up to the lucrative career he was fortunate enough to stumble into, and passes along tips to any other young, prospective class clowns from future generations who may be listening.

“Sharing a Swallow” has nothing to do with cum, sorry, but Carlin uses his opportunity on stage to take a big swig of water and place his microphone to his throat. Again, extremely gross, but a fairly innovative bit. Next, he moves onto some commentary about growing up Catholic in New York (while possibly not relatable, it’s very easy to empathize even if you’re some sort of Nevada Jew), goofin’ on mocking the priests at school and/or attempting to imitate them so he could hear a few confessions from his fellow classmates. Plus, the glibness of his various confessions (“Uh, I touched myself in an impure manner. I was impure, impurity and impureness. Body, touch, impure, sex, dirty, impure, legs, impureness. Touch, impure, dirty body, sex, rub and covet; heavy on the covet, Father.“) is fucking hilarious.

I could do without the Muhammad Ali schtick, though. Not timeless, and who cares anyway? That guy is dead!

Toledo Window Box (1974)
Rating: Kinda Bad

George Carlin - Toledo Window Box

Toledo Window Box is a close second, after FM & AM, as the least essential of the early albums. Carlin seems too mellow, perhaps intentionally to match the marijuana-themed bulk of the early material here. It’s loaded with outdated slang and some vague free association. He was clearly more pot-addled than usual, linking every subject to being high and introducing bits with a bunch of, for lack of a better word, rambling.

“‘Cause there all all kinds of variations, all that mystique like wines have crept into the pot. They may were been always there when I was like fifteen or sixteen and learnin’ about grass, it was always ‘Panamanian’ Green; they use the whole word…”

“The first… time the child hears lyrics are nursery rhymes. And they hear them at that much more gathering age, all through zero through five. And that’s their first introduction into bizarre behavior. You’ve thought about your nursery rhymes. Quite a gang we had in there. They were all on on obvious various drug experiences.”

See what I mean? Not very funny.

At least “Some Werds” points out English language eccentricities, a subject that which he was the best in the business and brings the first laughs from me. The first instance where the rambling is effective! I especially like this chunk: “It’s like, ‘semi-boneless ham’. I’ve seen it advertised. ‘Semi-boneless ham’. Now, ‘semi-bone’, hold on here. Does it have a bone? It has a bone. And it’s a bone! Ain’t no ‘semi-bone’! A bone is like a crumb. You don’t think much of a crumb, but think about it: You break a crumb in half, you don’t have two half-crumbs. You got two crumbs, man!”

But then his take on “God” is somewhat incoherent, “The Metric System” is back to drugs, “Gay Lib” rambles a little more but at least it’s open-minded enough for the mid-’70s. The rest of the material is the cutesy gross shit, and no thanks. Stuff about snot and urinals and farts.

Skip this one, man. It’s not jake at all.

Back in Town (1996)
Rating: Good

George Carlin - Back in Town

Back in Town gets lost in the shuffle as a forgettable installment within the Angry Carlin era, but anyone who finds this one to be mediocre is wrong. This one has some of the greatest stuff. And I’m gonna talk about it!

The first half-hour goes over some hot political topics, with “Abortion” kicking everything off with anti-conservative rants and viewpoints that are all-too-sadly still relevant almost 30 years later. “They’re all in favor of the unborn. They will do anything for the unborn. But once you’re born, you’re on your own!” When Roe v. Wade was overturned by the Supreme Court in 2022, this particular chunk of Carlin’s 1996 routine resurfaced as a direct protest against the decision. “They’re not pro-life. You know what they are? They’re anti-woman. Simple as it gets, anti-woman.”

Carlin continues to poke holes into the flimsy belief systems of conservatives and the religious right with respect to the sanctity of life (doesn’t exist) to the death penalty (what happened to the “sanctity of life”?), culminating into a presentation of one of his trademark, out-of-control ideas. This time, fencing off criminals, sex offenders, and murderers into the more desolate regions of the western United States and having them eat each other alive, away from the rest of the public. “And pretty soon you’ll have a melting pot. Child killers, corpse fuckers, drug zombies, and full-blown wack-a-loons. Wandering the landscape in search of truth and fun. Just like now! Everyone will have guns, everyone will have drugs, and no one will be in charge. Just like now!”

Contrasting the heavy, unborn fetus killing stuff, and the serial killer crucifixion stuff, the kitschy stuff comes next. This stuff always shows that the old hippy-dippy guy from the ’70s still lives within the prickly old man he would eventually become. “Farting in Public” falls flat for me, since you can find similar, and funnier routines in the back catalog. Then there’s the perfect marriage of classic observational humor with ranting old man sensibilities with “Familiar Expressions”, where Carlin expresses his very distaste, when taken literally, at phrases like “the greatest thing since sliced bread” and “he gave him the walking papers”. The full bit is the highlight of the album! “More than happy. I bet you say that sometimes, don’t ya? Once in a while you say to somebody ‘Ohhh I’d be more than happy to do that.’ How can you be more than happy? To me this sounds like a dangerous mental condition.”

After some more observational humor, Carlin concludes with a bit about staying home on Election Day; making a case that those who vote have no right to complain and vice versa, the opposite of what people actually say. It’s quite compelling.

Makes me feel better about not giving a shit, that’s for sure. Except vote for real this year, because it’s going to be the shittiest election year in all of our lifetimes (unless 2024 is already over, in which case congratulations to either the old grandpa or the dangerous dumb felon).

PAGE IN PROGRESS – TO BE CONTINUED


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Batman: The Long Halloween, Issue #7 – “Chapter Seven: April Fools’ Day”

* Part 7 of 13 of the Batman: The Long Halloween limited series *

Welcome to Loneliness & Cheeseburgers Presents: Batman: The Long Halloween, Issue #7 – “Chapter Seven: April Fools’ Day”! And I’m posting it one day late! Ha ha ha ha! APRIL FOOLS!

In the previous installment, addled by Poison Ivy’s charms and serum, Batman decides to go ahead with funding the Falcone family’s business with hundreds of millions of dollars via the Gotham Bank. In a twist, Falcone had hired Poison Ivy to do just that! Wait, I don’t think that’s actually a twist. More like a “duh”.

Who died this time? A bunch of people got shot. I think they were Maroni’s men this time because we saw him go “bwaaahhh”.

Catwoman was there too, but she’s pretty useless except for the part where she thwarted Poison Ivy. I still say she’s useless, though. She sucks and is perpetually horny, and not in a good way in either case.

Batman: The Long Halloween, Issue #7 [June, 1997]
Written by: Jeph Loeb
“Chapter Seven: April Fools’ Day”

Batman: The Long Halloween, Issue #7

I’ve got a short one for you today. You don’t even have time to get hard while reading this. I promise you.

Oh snap, it’s Riddler time! Jim Carrey! The kid from Little Miss Sunshine! Maybe even you some day!

Batman is poring over the objects left at the various crime scenes. A pumpkin. A heart-shaped box of chocolates. A horn of plenty. A little leprechaun thing. Holidays. “Like today. April Fools’ Day.” Thanks Batman, you really know how to set it up for us.

The Riddle Man himself is in an office with a couple of shadowed motherfuckers, we don’t know who yet. He’s like “aha, oho, what a riddle!” and surmises that Holiday is Catwoman because Holiday uses a woman’s gun. “With the break-in last June, she had access to Mr. Falcone’s safe. And, therefore, the names of everyone in ‘The Roman’ Empire.” And because she has a bounty on her head, well, the best defense is a good offense. Kill the family! Bing bong so simple.

The Bat Man, in his Bat Man Cave, thinks differently. It’s Maroni. He stands the most to gain from offing the Falcones. Growing bolder with each murder. “Who else on New Year’s Eve… would shoot Falcone’s own son in the back?”

Batman: The Long Halloween, Issue #7

BOOO! Get off the stage!

Riddler posits that the killings are personal. “Carla Viti. Mr. Falcone’s sister.” Riddler reasons that, since Johnny Viti was supposed to testify against the family to the grand jury, a big ol’ death was in the cards anyway! “Did Carla Viti do the unthinkable? Did the mother kill her only son just to hide her identity? Now her own guilt masks her rage. She is free to attack anyone since no one will suspect her.” She could have killed Alberto, too! My, my, this really is a pickle.

Batman stares at a pumpkin until Alfred approaches to let him know that he overlooked one person entirely. Batman thinks it’s Julian Day the Calendar Man, but Alfred whacks Batman with a newspaper and says “No! Bad!”

Alfred merely tells him that he has seen someone as sane as Batman himself… behave in the most surprising ways…

HARVEY DUNT. I mean, Dent.

“Captain Gordon told me how he showed up late on New Year’s Eve. On Christmas, he could have followed the Joker from his home and killed Milos, The Roman’s bodyguard. He left Wayne Manor on Valentine’s Day with plenty of time to confront Maroni’s men at the restaurant.”

It’s in the bag, Jack. Let’s bring this fucker to justice. Batman pulls out his comically tiny gun and strikes a menacing pose!

Batman: The Long Halloween, Issue #7

Oh, ok, well thanks for wasting my time, asshole.

Dent and Gordon are in the former’s office looking over some files in some rather professional-looking manila envelopes. If Bruce Wayne is helping the Roman, then justice will be served! In the meantime, how about a game of Yahtzee? My treat!

It is revealed that the Riddler is in Carmine Falcone’s office with his daughter, Sofia, standing behind his chair. “Mister Nigma,” Carmine says to a rather Matthew Lesko-looking dingus. “I was told there was no riddle you could not solve. And yet, you have only put together one guess after another. With no more certainty of one than the other.”

Riddler gulps as Sofia takes off his hat and starts crushing his head between her hands. “If your life depended on it – and it does –” Carmine says as Riddler’s nose starts bleeding. “Tell me. Who is Holiday?”

Riddler responds that it’s you, sir. Carmine Falcone is Holiday! How about that for a twist! Carmine starts laughing and tells his daughter to throw this guy out the side exit, into a wood chipper if you have one. A dumpster if you don’t, I suppose. Whatever’s easier.

Outside in the alley… and assailant approaches Riddler with a gun… fires… and misses. On purpose. Riddler’s figure is outlined with bullets.

Batman: The Long Halloween, Issue #7

When it’s ajar. Hehehehe!! Uh wait what um

Final Thoughts

Riddle Me This, Question Marks Man: Is the not-really-getting-shot-at the TRUE April Fool??? Like “April Fools, you’re not dead!” Really makes you think.


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East of West, Issue #40 – “Psalm 137”

* Part 11 of 16 of the The Apocalypse: Year Three storyline *

Welcome to Ghostliness & Nerfherders Presents: East of West, Issue #40 – “Psalm 137”! In the previous installment, we see a flashback of the beginnings of Hu Mao’s involvement with the Chosen in her father’s stead. We see Archibald watching live footage of Xiaolian and Wolf confronting each other as her army marches toward the Endless-Nation-former-Union place. We see a whole slew of weird Psalm robots attack Death and, presumably, kill him. And we see the Three Horsemen approach the alone Babylon.

Eeek!

East of West, Issue #40 [November, 2018]
Written by: Jonathan Hickman
“Psalm 137”

East of West, Issue #40

“The now always distorts the memory of how things really were.“

I love these little nihilistic, fatalistic quotes! Gets me right in my pessimism-overflowed brain.

Someone’s monologue, I don’t know whose: “Can you remember a time when you couldn’t taste violence in the air? I do. I remember. I remember people saying things would never get this bad. That it would never come to this. Blood on the ground… and ash in the sky. I remember them saying the end would never – could never – come. But now that it is almost here, all I can think is how wrong they were… and how glorious it will be.”

All through the monologue, dozens of Psalms descend upon the Deathly one. I think he might be deathed.

“We will see this through to the bitter end.”

Cut to Babylon and his ambushers. He sees them as three mean demon skulls in beefy suits! “Do you remember us, Babylon?” War asks. And yeah, he does. It’s filed under Mythological: Artificial: Reanimate: Apocrypha: Horsemen. Duh.

Here’s what happened last time! The Horsemen tried to kill Babylon, and he fucked them up royally! And he’s prepared to do it again! CHHAAAAAARRGE!!

War points his gun at Balloon and requests to be heard first. Perhaps they have offers and/or delicious candied treats.

East of West, Issue #40

Piggy’s got a point. Shit’s all oinked up.

Conquest goes into this whole thing about being sorry, how they got off on the wrong foot (so to speak; Babylon had chopped it off), it wasn’t cool to try to kill him and everything, and he’s sorry. Truly.

He sounds sincere! But Babylon ain’t buyin’ it.

Famine sweetens the deal: they will kneel to Babylon and buff him up to be the Great Beast he is prophesied to be. Babylon still isn’t too thrilled with their company. War comments on his intelligence, but nevertheless, War isn’t kneeling for nobody.

Babylon’s all “ok” about this and then continues to threaten the red, yellow, and blues ones’ lives. “You don’t understand,” says Conquest. “We’re here because you’re the most important person on this shitty, little planet.” Conquest and Famine want to suck your little dick because you’re going to be the catalyst for the apocalypse, son. War has other things on his mind, but he wants the apocalypse too. Trust them.

War levels with the kid. He’s here to see his Pops, and he’s either here to kill him (which probably already happened) or get killed. And one of those is less desirable! Babylon’s a smart kid, I think he can guess what War wants.

Death is still fighting for his monochrome little life… until one of the Psalms stabs him right through the back – exit wound through the heart. “NNNNNZZZZ. We have you now! But now that we do, I don’t know that I didn’t love the idea of catching more than the actual thing. NNNNNNNZZZ.”

Death starts dying. His eyeball pal starts rhyming at him again, but Death isn’t giving up yet. He’s actually laughing! Like this: ha ha ho ho hee hee. That is, until Mr. Eyeball warns him that this fight is a distraction from the Horsemen so that they can kill his son! LOL!

Well, this truly pisses him off something fierce, and he starts fighting like he’s never fought before.

East of West, Issue #40

You won’t like Death when he’s feral!

One of the Psalms stops in its tracks and asks Death why. Why why why? Why fight? He’s outnumbered about 7 trillion to one! No chance! The eyeball agrees smartly. Perhaps a new plan should be considered? Like running away? Or letting your son just die because who cares? He’s a brat anyway! You won’t even miss him!

Death chooses the running away part, but he doesn’t run far. He finds giant robot bug horse on the ground and activates the blaster face thing. It sends a huge strip of fire down the length of the field, killing all the Psalms? What a fucking copout! Booo!

Let’s turn to something boring now. Wolf and Crow have their talk with Xiaolian. For starters, why did she show up with a dang army? That seems a bit rude. “I would tell you that I am here to kill a man… but that doesn’t encapsulate the finality, or merciless violence, I plan to do. And if fate sees fit to favor me… I have come to erase an entire nation.” Xiaolian stares at the Wolf/Crow dream team. “All I need is for you to move out of my way.”

Wolf pauses and asks Xiaolian if she’s heard the Message. The Good Word of the Lord our Savior Future Jesus Christ on a Cracker. She has heard the Message and finds it to be a load of who-cares bunk, sir. Wolf presses on like she didn’t just besmirch the good name of the Word Message Pamphlet. Wolf is the Message now.

East of West, Issue #40

That’s four words! Gotcha!

In short, turn the fuck back around and return to your own shitty country.

And what if she doesn’t?

Well, it will be disasterous! Think it over.

Ok, she will.

Whew, that was civil! Elsewhere, Death is angry and he’s not going to let a pile of robot bugs death him all up. There’s one left, buzzing on the ground injured. It wonders if there’s something wonderful on the other side of the veil. Death says “not for you, bitch” and guns him down.

War has been watching this whole time and does a trite slow clap. “I cannot lie… I always did love to watch you work. Hello, Death. It’s been a while.”

Dawwww, family reunion time! Death just stares at War with a look of ennui, bloodied and torn up.

Xiaolian leaves her meeting feeling a little bit bitter. Wolf and Crow tried to destroy her capital city, then they left to hang out with Death on his journey, and now they think there’s a bond between her and them? Fuck them! “Asking for my trust? Demanding things of me?” She doesn’t trust them as far as she can throw them. And with her Iron Man hands, that actually might be pretty far. Bad analogy.

So, hey, she’ll do what they asked and nothing more. She’ll “reconsider” for a day.

East of West, Issue #40

Is there a Holiday Inn somewhere nearby?

War is a happy camper, reuiniting with Death. He sits down, commenting upon his tired limbs and all this chasing Death has made him hungry and thirsty for conversation. Death doesn’t think there’s gonna be much of a conversation at all. “Have you hurt my boy?”

“Now why would I do that?” War has consternation on his red face. “After all… your son is the Great Beast of the Apocalypse – the one we’ve supposedly been waiting for.”

“You’re gonna pretend like you and the others haven’t tried to kill him once already? And that you would serve anyone but yourself?”

War admits that he was wrong, and whether or not he really gives a shit about Babylon he has a role to play in this little game. And he made a choice, and he’s following Famine and Conquest to do the thing he’s gonna do. Meanwhile, here’s War with Death. All by their lonesome. War chews on a little stalk of wheat like a dang ol’ hayseed and levels with his buddy: Death betrayed him. Death betrayed him and it doesn’t sit well at all, like a huge plate of hot barbecue ribs and no TUMS. “Any revenge you wanted – any comeuppance you thought you were due – pales in comparison to what’s found seed in my heart,” says War. He’s smiling now. Very dangerously.

“That’s between you and me,” says Death. “My son doesn’t have anything to do with it.”

“The fuck he doesn’t.”

“What. Do. You. Want?”

“For you to die. And die poorly at my hand.”

…

War continues. “So how’s that sound?”

“…fair enough. Fine. Just let the boy go.”

War’s mouth has now twisted into a sneering grin. Here’s the thing: Babylon agreed to follow Famine and Conquest in order to spare his father. So the Horsemen are honoring the quest, because the Great Beast can’t just not be the Great Beast! So, really, all Death can do right now is come and try to take him away from them. Good luck.

East of West, Issue #40

Me too, big boy. Me too.

And War says he’ll be waiting. He looks forward to it.

Final Thoughts

Death can’t die. He’s Death. He can fuck, obviously, but he can’t die.

Just like War can’t peace. He can’t peace. He probably can’t fuck either, actually.

Famine and Conquest are definitely not fucking.

Babylon fucks.

OK, I’m done.


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Darth Vader (Vol. 1), Issue #12 – “Book II: Shadows and Secrets (Part 6)”

* Part 6 of 6 of the Book II: Shadows and Secrets storyline *

Welcome to Ghostliness & Nerfherders Presents: Darth Vader (Vol. 1), Issue #12 – “Book II: Shadows and Secrets (Part 6)”! In the previous installment, Aphra pays about $1,000,000,000 credits to Ante for information about Luke Skywalker’s whereabouts. Darth Vader and Thanoth, along with about 1,000,000,000 stormtroopers, bust into the joint and kill Ante just after he divulges information about the Plasma Devils’ whereabouts. They also intend to capture Aphra, but Vader helps her escape.

How much longer can Darth Vader keep this up?! His stomach is surely writhing in stress-borne anxiety! Will he throw up in the Dark Lord’s toilet for fifty panels to close out the storyline? Or will he stroke his dick? Do you think his dick wears a helmet too?

Where was I? Oh yes.

Darth Vader (Vol. 1), Issue #12 [January, 2016]
Written by: Kieron Gillen
“Book II: Shadows and Secrets (Part 6)”

Darth Vader (Vol. 1), Issue #12

Darth Vader is aboard his ship, the U.S.S. Mossy Pussy. They’re chasing Aphra through the big cloudy Anthan Prime storm. “The bombers with ion torpedoes are ready to make their pass through the cloud Lord Vader,” says that dingbat Thanoth. “We’ll either drive her out or disable the ship, then drag her clear.”

Aphra is struggling to get through the storm. Struggling hard. Very hard. Rock hard.

Thanoth thinks that once they capture the girl, they’ll capture her patron! Brrrt!! He thinks there must’ve been an accomplice who tipped her off about all this. Vader thinks this chase is a waste of time. Dancing with the Stars is on in five minutes! Thanoth is appalled! First of all, Dancing with the Stars is lowbrow entertainment. Second of all, why is this chase a waste? Why the distaste, Space Face?

“We have a ready strike force. We have the location of the Plasma Devils. And we are here, chasing a simple thief.”

Thanoth slaps his forehead! This is true! This chase is small potatoes! Plasma Devils, those are the Big Cheeses right now! But hey! The Ante is dead and everyone will be in a tizzy, including the Plasma Devils! They’ll uproot and scatter elsewhere! But the girl! Oh, the girl! The girl is right here in front of us! So let’s go for it! And…! No! We must follow those Devils!

“Fine, whatever, just stop talking you horse’s asshole,” says Lord Vader… in my headcanon. He agrees with Thanoth, although Attorney Surgeon General of the House of Representatives Tagge will not be happy with either of them. And be that as it may, fuck that guy!

The chase for the Plasma Devils will commence!

Darth Vader (Vol. 1), Issue #12

Perhaps someday your mustache will abandon your nostrils, Inspector.

O-O-O reports to Aphra that the Imperial ships are setting a new course. Aphra takes a breath. “I’m going to live.”

“For now, Mistress Aphra,” O-O-O chimes in happily. Aphra makes the biggest frown that I’ve seen since my Nightwing days! That Dick Grayson is a punk.

THE THANTEEN SUBSTRATA, ANTHAN 1. Or at least the outskirts. Thanoth foresees a problem: the dang clouds are in the way. They can see a base, but they can’t sneak up on it nor can they make a great getaway if they were to be attacked. Our only hope is to go home to our Hormel chili dinners! Barring that, they can bombard the western tunnels and Vader will take care of the Eastern Seaboard! Hut hut hike!

Those Space Devils or whatever are hanging around doing nothing when an alarm goes off. Shit! So much for having time for a graceful escape. Now what? Scatter like rats! Hut hut hut hut hut hut hike!

Standing on the eastern end, Vader is able to destroy a small single-person ship by throwing a lightsaber at it. This takes four pages to accomplish, so you assuredly will get your money’s worth on this comic book here. “There is no escape,” Vader says gruffly to no one in particular.

So that’s that!

Darth Vader (Vol. 1), Issue #12

Hormel chili time!

Once the threat has been eliminated and the mission reported, the briefing is met with much indignation. “That wasn’t your mission,” says Morit, aka Twin #1. Thanoth is like “fuck you, nerd” to this kid. Captain Sideburns does congratulate the success of that particular mission, but LAMBASTS the dark helmeted one for letting the thief get away scott free. Now she’s somewhere, which could be anywhere, and now we’re all nowhere! Arrrrghh!

Darth Vader cops to it, surprisingly, but justifies it with splendor and aplomb. “Chasing after a few coins or crushing the Rebels? That is not a choice.”

After thinking for a few hundred thousand million moments, Captain Sideburns (aka the Boss Man) decides that Vader made the correct call on this one. The twins scowl and grump.

Mr. Squid, Karbin, the Admiral Ackbar species, is supposed to be chasing down Luke Skywalker but he fucking sucks at it. No progress whatsoever. Disappointing.

Grand General Whatshisname Sideburns dismisses the group; Thanoth and Vader have another congenial chat as they walk through the corridors. Thanoth sucks Vader’s limp little white fish dick about how he didn’t throw him under the bus, to which Vader says matter-of-factly “I do not fear any of these fools.”

“It’s a shame the thief escaped, of course.”

“Do not worry, Thanoth… she will not escape justice.”

Meanwhile, Aphra – escaping justice – hangs out in a cave with her murderous droid friends. O-O-O warns her that withholding information about Luke’s whereabouts and manipulating Vader is blackmail. “He was quite clear on what would result.”

Aphra looks rather forlorn. Then Vader shows up and she forgets to look forlorn some more.

Darth Vader (Vol. 1), Issue #12

Aphra… your own mustache is captivating.

“Vrogas Vas. The boy’s on Vrogas Vas,” she says forlornly. We’re back to forlornliness! But she tells Vader that, to avoid getting killed, her instincts told her to show him that she’s trustworthy. “I want to work for you. I’ve shown you what I can do. I can’t do anything for you when I’m dead. You’ll keep me alive… Hopefully.”

Vader does that thing where he compliments her and then tells her that she better not make him regret his compliments. Like, if he shows any sign of genuine appreciation then his little white fish dick might suck itself up into his own body. Then he wonders out loud why Luke might be on Vrogas Vas. It’s a stupid planet for dumb people, honestly. What’s the point?

“No idea,” responds Aphra. “There’s some old Jedi temple there. Maybe sight-seeing?”

Vader tells her that, no, idiot, there’s no temple there. Then he does that thing where he tells her that he’ll kill her if this turns out to be a trick. Then he leaves on his TIE fighter. Aphra gets nervous because, obviously, oh shit, how will she know for sure that it isn’t a trick? Damn.

Elsewhere, Karbin has caught wind of Vader’s trip to Vrogas Vas. Karbin was headed there anyway! But Karbin is one step ahead, oh Karbin is indeed. All like, USURP MY MISSION, WILL YOU? I WILL USURP YOUR FACE!

So Karbin intends to follow Vader to the planet and then maybe kill him nice and good and dead.

lol

Final Thoughts

THAT DARTH VADER WILL ASSUREDLY GET KILLED BY SOME GUY NAMED KARBIN. I KNOW THIS TO BE TRUE. Move along, nothing to see here, people.


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Player Piano by Kurt Vonnegut

The Book Bonfire Disclaimer: There will be spoilers. If you’re even remotely interested in this book and you haven’t read it, or if you’ll be mad if you accidentally read any possible spoilers about it, I’m going to chalk it up to “not my fucking problem”. You have been warned. Also, this is a feature about reading. You came here to read about books, so pictures in these posts will be scarce. Be an adult.

Player Piano

Welcome to the Book Bonfire, where everything is made up and the books don’t matter! Oh boy, do I have a treat for you today, my fine, feathered friends. I’ve decided to tackle Kurt Vonnegut’s bibliography in chronological order, starting with the early-installment-weirdness of Player Piano. Yes, that’s right. Player Piano. You’ve never read it, but I have! And I quite enjoyed most of it. Some of it was kind of meh, but the dude wrote this in his twenties. Haven’t you ever read other books by people in their twenties? No, you haven’t. Nobody writes books in their twenties. It has never happened. Except now, with Player Piano. You following me here?

No? Good. This book covers the well-worn topic of machines taking jobs away from people. It doesn’t involve death robots or anything like that, although that would be pretty sweet. Instead, it focuses on the high-and-mighty and indispensable — by design, not necessarily in reality — job positions of engineers and managers and how they’re the ones sitting on the pedestal while technicians, secretaries, and various other low-paying jobs can be replaced with automatons. Never do they actually focus on the machines. In fact, nearly the whole book follows the journey of Doctor Paul Proteus, engineer and manager, as he becomes disillusioned with the progression of technology to the point of sabotage. Pushed to the point of midlife crisis, Paul rethinks his life as an elite member of this dystopian society and yearns for a simpler existence. A simpler existence not just for him, but for society in general. Far out, man.

“Do you hear that? That’s the sound of machinery, gentleman. Rusty, grinding machinery. And it sounds like two robots fucking. And it’s beautiful.”
– Paul

People always say that Vonnegut’s works foretold an accurate depiction of the future. Well, his future at any rate. This was written in 1952, amazingly, but it doesn’t feel that old. The idea of machines replacing basic human technical jobs is a reality now and has (as does) threatened many industrial workers’ livings. Player Piano takes the idea of progress and treats it as the Big Bad in of itself. By the end of the book, all the engineers and managers who were part of the revolution to overthrow progress are happily considering a life without technology at all. They discuss wood-burning stoves and ice boxes… until the group decides to rebuild and refurbish a broken, old “Orange-O” drink machine, hinting at these peoples’ inherent drive to fix, improve, and progress. It’s this knowledge that causes the Ghost Shirt Society members (and semi-unwilling member Paul) to turn themselves into the authorities. It was worth a try!

I’m by no means a manager, but I am an engineer, and I spent a lot of this book sympathizing with Paul as he becomes increasingly disengaged from his job. My favorite part of Player Piano is when Paul is appointed captain of a team-building retreat group (“Blue!”) and needs to pretend to give a shit. It’s at this point where Paul musters up the strength to quit, but instead gets haplessly roped up into a conspiracy to overthrow the Ghost Shirt Society beyond his control. This is the stuff that reminds me of Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy or Discworld, where human characters are thrown into these absurd situations. It was like this:

“You’re our man, Proteus!” said Kroner.
“I’m your man,” Paul replied gloomily.

Love that shit.

BOOK BONFIRE DISCUSSION QUESTIONS!

Compare technology in the future society that Kurt Vonnegut imagined in 1952 to today’s technology.

“This thing can play checkers? The hardest game in the world to master?? I’m doomed!”
– Paul

There’s a very amusing scene where Paul Proteus is challenged to a checkers match during a company party. Paul, apparently, is the undisputed checkers champion of upstate New York! And some young up-and-coming piece of shit engineer named Fred Berringer has brought with him a giant refrigerator of a computer named “Checker Charley”. Checker Charley can kick anyone’s ass at checkers, and we’re about to see poor Paul get his ass handed to him on a rose gold platter. At first, he doesn’t even want to try. Machines are infallible! He gets convinced to play, though, and play he does. The machine fails miserably. Chalked up to a faulty connection, the machine smokes and fizzles out as Paul wins the match. Everyone celebrates Paul’s triumph as man over machine (except for Berringer, who bitches and moans about his poor checkers-playing hunk of junk).

Checker Charley predates the development of Deep Blue by 35 years. Now, I’m not one to do “research” to prepare these godawful blog posts, but was there any kind of computer that was designed to compete in games before Deep Blue? If not, that’s impressive of Vonnegut’s part. Not to mention that artificial intelligence has gotten exponentially more sophisticated since even Deep Blue. I don’t have to tell you. You’re using a computer right now!

If the computer system could be improved so that everyone’s talents were measured truly and accurately, would the society portrayed in the novel be acceptable? Why or why not?
This is a tough one, because I can’t help but sometimes have the opinion that the world should be run by the smart, altruistic people and NOT the smart, selfish people. And ESPECIALLY not the dumb, selfish people. I mean, Jesus.

“I’d like to say that Hitler had the right idea. But, honestly, Hitler had a lot of right ideas.”
– Paul

So, if I count selflessness as a talent then yes, as long as everyone’s talents were measured truly and accurately then the world wouldn’t be run by the rich… well, that’s not true, since the highly talented would be rich as a result. And the poor and untalented would be despondent and possibly form a coup that will fail because they’re all dumb. Hmmm… and the rich and smart will ultimately become corrupted by the money and start euthanizing the dumb in order to create a super-race of intelligent human beings from eugenics and genocide.

You know what? Forget I said anything. Some alien should blow up the Earth and get it over with already.

FINAL THOUGHTS

I’ve read exactly eight other Vonnegut books in college, which was already way over a decade ago, so I don’t exactly remember the style that he ended up locking into and how it might be different from the early-installment weirdness of Player Piano. I was worried at first when Paul was jerking off about the whirring of machinery for 30 pages, but then the book picked up and maintained a steady, entertaining pace. That is, until it started falling apart near the end with the Ghost Shirt Society stuff. I didn’t like that too much! It seemed aggressively out of place compared to the soft sci-fi of the rest of the book.

But yes, this was very enjoyable. Vonnegut published this when he was 30! I’m quite a few years behind already on my first novel, entitled “The Mars Snakes vs. the Jupiter Snakes”. I don’t have to tell you who’s going to win the war!


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