Anniversary of the Tower Shooting Part 2

Last night I posted on the Anniversary of the 1966 shootings that occurred at UT Austin.

Today I had no lunch plans, and so I got up from my desk and walked to the UT Tower, arriving just before 11:48 AM. The University of Texas doesn't do anything in particular to commemorate the day every year, and certainly not the time. When they do hold events, which does happen from time to time, I am uncertain if they hold them on the day and time of shootings.

So, walking up to the Tower, it was the usual mishmash you see in August. Tourists. Summer school students. Kids on campus for camp, a mixed bag of college aged people engaged in group activities you can't quite puzzle out.

The sky was clear today and the temperatures were in the high 90's.  Despite the lunch hour, not many folks walked the main plaza, an area most folks know is often hot and free of shade.  I'd venture that few were aware of the date.

I snapped a picture of the flagpole from our earlier post. It's not quite as far from a door as I thought, but it's still a good 30 yards, and that's if you cleared the hedge.

46th Anniversary of the UT Tower Shootings

On August 1, 1966 Charles Whitman killed both his mother and his wife while they slept.  He went and purchased firearms from local shops, then drove to UT Austin's central tower.

Then, as today, the tower was an administrative building and, at the time, was also the library for UT Austin. It still looms well above all other features not just on campus, but for much of the surrounding territory.   From the top of the tower, one has a panoramic view in all directions, far out to the hills of West Austin, into downtown to the South if you look beyond the South Mall and the older buildings on campus that surround the grassy strip, usually strewn with students studying and socializing.  To the East lies the stadium and a great swath of campus, and to the North, the science buildings, and past that, the Hyde Park neighborhood.

I went up the first time in 2000 shortly after the Tower's observation deck re-opened for the first time since a rash of suicides in the 1970's.  No, Whitman's atrocity didn't convince the University that it needed to be closed.

On that morning, Whitman took a footlocker full of weapons with him to the top of the tower, and knocked an administrative assistant unconscious with his rifle (she would die later at Seton Hospital).  He would show a final and baffling act of mercy as he let a couple who had not seen the secretary's unconscious form bypass him, and then he barricaded the door.  Moments later he would kill and wound several tourists who came to the door seeking to go out to the Tower's observation deck.

Whitman took advantage of the unimpeded vantage provided by the 27 story tower and began firing down upon students and faculty walking between buildings.  For about 100 minutes Whitman held Austin hostage between Guadalupe and the East Mall, from the North Mall to far past the South Mall, where visibility goes down to 21st Street and further down University Avenue.

"Revolution" Sci-Fi Fail: Wrigley Field Will Never Be Overgrown with Shrubbery

In watching the Olympics on NBC, every third commercial break or so they're running ads for an upcoming big budget program, trying to capitalize on the Lost audience and grabbing some of the Y: The Last Man aesthetic without actually going there.  Plus: swords for some reason.

The premise of the show seems to be that for some reason, the world has lost the ability to have electricity, and possibly all modern conveniences.  Except for make-up and hair-care product.  This is NBC, after all.

I won't go into too much of what I think looks a little dippy from the commercial, but it was already enough to tell me I wasn't all that interested in the usual network attempt at sci-fi that always feels like a frat-dude trying to put together a sci-fi idea from the bits and pieces they liked on some other show, but, you know, where the chicks aren't all weird or dogs or nuthin' and we're not going to make it all lame.  Oh, and the new lantern-jawed lead is now the all-purpose 20-something-haunted-girl-Mary Sue.  Check and check.

What struck me as a sign of failure (and this is based on a show I haven't seen and don't really understand the premise) was that, to try to earn some sign of how bad things have become in the wake of us having to live like it's 1915 or so again, the commercial shows Wrigley Field has become barricaded by trees and overgrowth, with vines crawling up the front of the building.

their sci-fi premise is, of course, that the The Cubs could get into the playoffs this year

Here's the thing:  No.

God Bless Our Snipers

The other day I got stuck in traffic for about an hour (Austin motorists, your hill-billy like gawking on MoPac is indefensible. It was a minor truck accident). For about twenty minutes of the total 1.5 hours, I was behind a "murdered out" black Range Rover.

This is what I looked at for about 20 minutes.

I support our troops.  I do.  Great folks.  Freedom, etc...

And I even like me some gallows humor, which often seems to confuse people in my social media sphere, but I strongly suspect the last thought I'd have as a piano fell out of a window upon me would be:  Heh.  Well, of-@#$%ing-course.

But I find a matte-black Range Rover with a vaguely threatening sticker just a little too loud for cool, too deliberate for funny.  It all had the sort of weird insecure, over-compensating tough-guy vibe I usually associate with martial arts instructors in strip malls.

I will tell you this:  when they saw me taking a picture over the steering column (in dead still traffic - don't worry, Ma) they immediately changed lanes and got away from me, proving to me once and for all that people who shoot other people from vast distances are really huge scaredy-cats afraid of a camera phone from a guy with a Donald Duck doll hanging from his rearview mirror.

If you're going to play it loud, I don't really know what you expect.  We're all going to just be blown away by how bad ass your truck is?  That you're a sniper?  That you don't need corrective lenses for driving and you have a fetish for an un-resellable paint job on your very expensive car?

People are silly.  Especially our snipers.

Now if I can just get them some black Truck Nutz.

Signal Re-Watch: Dark Knight Rises (2012)

Author's Note:  Spoiler's ahoy.  Proceed at your own risk.

So, today I teamed up with Jason, AmyD, The Admiral and Jamie and re-watched what appears to be the final installment in the Nolan-helmed Batman trilogy.

The first look at the movie was posted last week after I'd seen the movie with a different crew.

As has been the pattern with Nolan's movies since Memento (and what I tend to think is true of movies I don't just enjoy, but enjoy re-watching), once you know how it ends, it's a pleasure to re-watch the film and see how the moving pieces work together, and not just from a plotting perspective, as in a particular good espionage movie or thriller.  I've harped a lot on how Nolan has more or less used the Bat-movies as a chance to explore ideas of fear, justice, security & liberty - and it was worthwhile to take in a second viewing and watch the movie in a frame of mind more conducive to regarding what Nolan was doing and trying to say, and not just hanging on as a summer thriller unspooled and I did my best to keep up.

Of course, I don't have a score sheet that enables me to check Nolan's ideas off, and what you read here is based on nothing, really, but my own reading of the movies as a whole, so you'll have to bear with me.

Olympics are Back! A report after Day One (2012)

So yesterday I got up and cycling was on. I rolled over to watching US Women's soccer against the villainous Colombian team, watched that whole match, then watched US Women's Volleyball against South Korea, and at some point was watching Norway play France in Women's Team Handball (it's like mini-Lacrosse with no stick. Just hands.). Then Primetime arrived and I wound up watching beach volleyball, swimming, men's gymnastics and concluded the viewing day after midnight watching women under 110 pounds lifting tremendous amounts of weight over their heads.

A few observations:

Enemy Ace and Why You Don't Take Your Puppy Up into the Killer Skies

I finally got a copy of Star Spangled War Stories #148.  It's a reader copy, not in terrific shape, but I can make a check mark on that particular collection.  And it's not like I don't have a copy of that story in both Showcase Presents and Archives formats.

You guys know I am firmly in corner of Von Hammer, The Enemy Ace. Yes, even as he's shooting down our friends from England and France in plane-to-plane combat, I'm still thrilling to his adventures as he takes his tri-wing Fokker up into The Killer Skies.

Signal Watch Watches: Gentlemen Prefer Blondes (1953)

Good God, y'all.

Gentlemen Prefer Blondes (1953) is basically one long exercise in "Jane Russell or Marilyn Monroe?", and no one can answer that question honestly without risking a trip into madness.

Just when the answer seems "well, clearly Monroe" (she is, after all, Monroe), you kind of have to take a moment to pause and reconsider.  Because, well, Jane Russell.  Just when Monroe seals it up with "Diamonds are a Girl's Best Friend"...  Russell does her own version.

I suspect the pitch meeting went like this:

Producer:  It's two singing and dancing girls!  Leggy!  One is a gold-digger, the other doesn't care about money!  They get on a boat!  There's singing!  There's dancing! There's showgirl outfits! It ends with a wedding!
Studio Head:  Meh.
Producer:   We cast Monroe and Jane Russell!
Studio Head:  Can we see either of them soaking wet?
Producer:  We're throwing Russell in a pool RIGHT NOW!
Studio Head:  You've got yourself a picture!

Sure, it's a throwback.  But it's a movie that knows exactly what it's got on it's hands and doesn't make any bones about it - made in an era where women could be portrayed as knowing what they had without having to pretend to be unaware or be cast as the villain, and do it all with a wink.  It's a movie about a diamond-digging Monroe and her pal for whom money doesn't mean much on a cross-the-pond trip to France surrounded by men.  Hi-jinx ensue and a number of pretty good musical numbers.

The movie never equates beautiful with brainless.  Perhaps Monroe's Lorelei is a bit clueless or off in dreamland, but she has a certain brand of whimsical genius that's the ying to yang of the streetwise, smart girl who sees all the angles, played by Russell.  Both are great and really, really funny.  As is a lot of the supporting cast.

I hadn't seen the movie since high school, which means I hadn't seen it since I taped it off AMC back when the network was American Movie Classics.  Seeing the movie in HD on a TV screen that begins to do it justice really does show what color film was doing during the era and what Hollywood was bringing to the big screen with design and smart use of palette.  Of course the film is the work of the great Howard Hawks showing an eye for comedy and getting the hell out of the way when it comes to the musical numbers.

It's a fluffy, fun comedy and a classic for a reason.  Maybe not as quirky as you might hope for, but the dialog is refined to a razor's edge.  Good stuff.

And, of course, our leads.

Do I know why gentlemen supposedly prefer blondes?  No sir, I do not.  The movie never actually explains the title.

Happy Birthday to Judy, the Mother-in-Law

we're pretty sure this captures the spirit of our own Judy McB

Happy birthday to my mother-in-law and enabler, Judy.

I know all the old stereo-types about meddling or annoying mother-in-laws, but since Day 1, I've been pretty fond of Jamie and Doug's mom.  She's a lot of fun, totally supportive of Jamie and myself, and where 95% of mother-in-laws would (at best) just let the whole comics thing slide, Judy sometimes seems to enjoy my superhero collection in her own way and even adds to it from time to time.

She's a world traveler, a naturalist, a birder, and a small time gambler.  What's not to like?

Happy B-Day, Judy!  We'll see you this evening.

The in-laws, Dick & Judy, enjoy some BBQ at Central Texas' famous "The Salt Lick"

Gleiberman's article in EW on Pop Culture and The Dissipation of Empathy

NathanC posted a link to an Owen Gleiberman editorial on the Entertainment Weekly website in which Gleiberman, a longtime film critic/ reviewer for EW discusses his perceptions of the obsessions of pop culture and how they come back in mutated form in incidents like the one in Aurora, Colorado.

It's not a huge secret around our house that I don't hold Gleiberman's taste in very high regard, and you can pretty much count on his befuddlement when it comes to genre pictures (Jamie has had a subscription to EW since around 1995, so we've had opportunity to discuss the man's writing).

I won't say I don't echo some of Gleiberman's thoughts, but the more I thought about the article and it's constant accusations, backtracking on the accusations with a "I'm just saying" statement - the more I found it a bit disturbing.

I encourage you to pop over and read the article on your own.  It's free.

Let me clear the decks first and roll my eyes at Gleiberman's creeping assertions about fanboy culture and his ability to finally have a way to express his discomfort with the phenomena.  Exasperation with sci-fi/ comics/ fantasy and the culture around them has been an ongoing theme in his reviews for a decade.  He basically is both aware of and flustered by the fact that these people will not listen to reason when he can demonstrably prove his favorite Meryl Streep movie is of more value than Serenity.  So, in a way, I'm not all that surprised by the path he goes down here.  I'm more surprised that he bothered to point out so many other examples of media-influenced killers, basically only identified Holmes, and went on with the charge of associating fan culture with a breeding ground for mass killers.

That said, his definition of "fanboy" extends to "pretty much anybody with an obsessive interest in a bit of media".  Of course, he mentions local nightmare Charles Whitman in making the case, a person with no particular interest linked to any media, but who also killed a lot of people.  He dismisses the long history of disturbing, mass or serial killings (Devil in the White City, Lizzy Borden, the fact that modern police work, a lack of records and immediate communication meant people just used to disappear and nobody noticed, etc... et al....  anybody?  anybody?) believing that only Jack the Ripper ever got more than one person before 1950.