I’m still working on putting together a pictorial account of my latest adventure, but I’m keenly aware of each day that slips by me without a visit to the lair (especially after the tour de force blogging event known as Doctober!).
So, quick though it might be, here is a shot I recently snapped of some gorgeous autumnal color. Guess all my worrying about the fall foliage was for naught.
I love serendipity (the word, not the movie…although I do find the movie to be a lovely bit of diversion on a rainy afternoon).
In 2006, I found myself wandering the streets of Dublin, slack-jawed and amazed that I was in a place that perhaps had been walked a thousand times before by ancestors from my very own “long time ago in a galaxy far, far away.” It was our first day in Dublin, in fact, and we were pretty much giddy and groggy from the long flight and virtual lack of sleep, and just ambling about without much of a point or purpose at all. That’s when I stumbled upon this lovely fellow:
He was located in a center island on O’Connell Street, not too far from the “Stiffy on the Liffey.” A nearby placard explained that he was part of a series of sculptures that had been commissioned for the Millennium celebration (the same celebration, we were later told by a tour guide, that had brought about the, er, erection of previously mentioned stiffy).
Of course, being a true member of my particular family, I happily photographed this rather pensive rock-dwelling rabbit. We are renowned for our propensity to photograph anything non-sentient or non-human, so a bronze bunny? Double win. Then we were once again on our way and I pretty much forgot all about this sculpture.
Imagine my surprise, then, when I discovered this during a perambulation through the National Gallery of Art’s sculpture garden a few weeks ago:
Needless to say, this was an unparalleled delight to discover that my hippity-hoppity friend had somehow found his way across several years and several thousand miles to appear right in my own backyard. I also learned a bit more about the Thinker on a Rock, thanks to a little handout available at the garden entrance. I was a bit surprised to see that he was originally created back in 1997 since I was still under the impression that he had something to do with the millennium. Although, three years isn’t all that much time in the grand scheme of things, and perhaps he had merely been brought to the streets of Dublin because someone enjoyed Barry Flanagan’s artistry in general rather than having been actually commissioned specifically by Dublin for the purpose of this celebration.
Who knows? All I know is that, in the midst of what was already an extraordinarily enjoyable day of wandering through museums and the Mall, my happiness meter pinged off the scales when I found the Thinker.
Serendipity, FTW.
As most people know, this past weekend was the Rally to Restore Sanity And/Or Fear, the combined crazy spoofiness sponsored by Comedy Central and hosted by Jon Stewart and Stephen Colbert. I didn’t attend this rally (although I did get caught up in some of the mad rush trying to get downtown). I have a HUGE phobia against massive crowds, regardless of how amused I am by the purpose of said gatherings. Plus, I had quieter and more personally enjoyable plans for my weekend.
However, this morning I did find this link of the 100 Best Signs At The Rally To Restore Sanity And/Or Fear. Some of these are simply brilliant (and some of the people holding the signs are equally wonderful).
Several of these signs quickly became favorites, including the one that reads, “Teatard.” I’m only going to post one here, however, because if I start posting more than one, I’ll end up posting them all…and I don’t want to steal buzzfeed’s thunder. Here, then, is the one that made me laugh out loud and make a strange squee-like noise that made me grateful my officemate hadn’t arrived yet:
Of course I enjoyed it for the obvious reason, but I also loved it because whoever made this sign has a sense of humor as cheesy and geeky as mine. Case in point, this is a snippet from a blog entry I made during my Angry BloggerTM days:
When an American reporter later asked Bush if he realized that many people considered his statement to be highly hypocritical because many consider him to be xenophobic, he scoffed loudly and replied, “Who said I was Xena-phobic? I love that show! I think it’s great to see more women in action roles, especially ones who look so good in so little…know what I mean?” He then appeared to cringe visibly and several in the vicinity reported hearing loud screaming coming from the still unidentified “mystery bulge” beneath the president’s sports coat. Several reported that the voice sounded like Karl Rove. Mr. Bush promptly stopped talking and allowed Secret Service to escort him back to Air Force One.
See? Utter cheese of the strongest geek flavor. And, wow, talk about taking a walk down “Thank the prophets those days are over” lane! Ah, good times.
Anyway, take a look at the rest of the signs and, hopefully, laugh along with Loba.
So I may or may not have ever mentioned this here at the lair, but I have a HUGE fangirl crush on Keith Birdsong. Not familiar with the name? That’s all right. I bet, if you’re a geek like me, you’re familiar with his work. He’s an extraordinarily talented artist who has done work for almost every major fandom imaginable, including my all-time favorite, Star Trek. In fact, if you ever picked up a TNG or DS9 novel back in those shows’ heydays, more likely than not you were looking at a Birdsong original on the cover. I happily confess that, on several occasions, I bought a novel based solely on the fact that I thought his cover art was gorgeous.
Imagine my delight, then, when I realized that he had done a fantastic piece for Creation Entertainment’s annual Xena convention back in 2007. I immediately fell in love with this one: Not only is it Birdsong’s recognizable style giving life to familiar scenes of Xena and Gabrielle (and Argo, too!), but it’s done on a beautiful abstract backdrop painted by Birdsong as well. Top it all off with the fact that Lucy Lawless and Renee O’Connor signed each of the limited-release prints of this artwork and you’ve just pushed the geekery over the breaking point for me.
But how could I make this even more special?
Look at the bottom left of the picture and you’ll get the answer to that question (sorry for the lack of detail and glass reflection in this photo, but I kind of wanted to make sure that no one could copy this image). See, my Mirror Universe self knows people, including the amazing Keith Birdsong. My Mirror Universe self rocks…but Keith rocks way more. He very graciously signed this print for me, and I can’t even begin to express how awesome he is for doing so. All I have to do is look at his signature and I’m suddenly 15 again, standing in the aisle of the Crown Books Superstore and looking for the newest TNG book to bear a Birdsong original.
If you’d like to see more of Keith’s artwork, you can visit his online gallery or check out some of his more recent work, sold through Lightspeed Fine Art.
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some more squeeing to do…
I recently wrote a Flashback Friday on The Carol Burnett Show, and if you’re at all surprised that I’m a Trek Geek Supreme, then you haven’t been visiting here very long at all, have you?
So, imagine my delight and surprise when I stumbled upon the following photo in TrekCore.com’s Rare Photos section. A combination of Carol Burnett and Star Trek? Wha?
What is this photo documenting? Was there a Carol Burnett skit that featured Leonard Nimoy as Mr. Spock? Was he just strolling by one day while in makeup and decided to wander onto one of Burnett’s sets? What is the story behind this photo?
No. Actually? I’d rather not know the story. It’s even more delightful as a mystery…
On other news fronts, I’ve been doing some major heavy lifting in several life arenas lately, which has taken away much of my free time. Never fear, however, denizens. I can see the finish line from here. Plus, I’ve got some fun plans for the lair in October. Oh so very fun…
[Loba Post-Post Analysis: I thought a little more about this photo on my drive home this afternoon, and I’ve decided that I bet this was a skit that included Mr. Spock. I realized that Burnett is holding a bundle in her arms that was probably meant to be a baby. I bet the skit had something to do with confusing Mr. Spock with famous baby guru Dr. Spock. Just a theory, but one that satisfies like Snickers, no?]
This lyric has been stuck in my head for days now. Stuck to the point that I feel as though I need to put it down, here in the lair, to rid myself of its haunting presence. I’m not even a fan of The Mamas and The Papas. All I know about them, really, is that Cass Elliot did voiceover work for a guest role on “The Haunted Candy Factory,” one of my favorite New Scooby Doo Movies, and Michelle Phillips played Jenice Manheim, Captain Picard’s love interest in the first season TNG episode, “We’ll Always Have Paris.”
[Talk about the useless flotsam of geek life…]
So why this lyric from a song I don’t even have on my iPod? The season is changing. Wispy white tendrils against cerulean sky now shift to casket-colored cloud cover, perforated by random slivers of diffused sunlight. Mornings are tinged with a chill that is slow to burn away and quick to return come dusk. I think all those triple-digit summer scorchers are now nothing more than a memory.
Early morning sunlight is now almost another summer memory, darkness still slumbering even when my alarm goes off. Every morning, I stumble in a sleep-clumsy haze through the dim stillness, my usual avian serenade now fallen silent. The birds have hatched their young and the nests are empty.
My already clockwork-precise ablutions must be even more hurried, as now I’m racing against the additional school-year traffic: parents hitting the road early to drop off der kinder, and buses galumphing along like wounded wildebeests, belching diesel and halting all passage as they slow to consume surly school-bound passengers. My autumnal commute always increases in length and misery.
Usually, I’m not this maudlin about the changing of the seasons. This year has not been a “usually” kind of year. I think it’s the rapidly dwindling evening light that’s affecting me the most. Post-dinner walks are edging ever closer to the fringe of total darkness. Soon the cold and the dark will be more than I’ll care to fight. My sneakers will remain stationary and I’ll no longer have the ability to outpace the thoughts from which I’ve been running all summer.
One of the most wonderful things about an East Coast autumn is the firework-bright color shift in the foliage: a timpani of bottle rocket red and flames of sparkler orange, bombastic bursts of yellow. Landscapes like a painter’s palate, splashed with frenzies of bright and bold.
Summer’s unmerciful heat, however, has left its mark on many of the trees in our neighborhood. Dull brown leaves have already dropped, their dessicated husks scraping and rasping beneath our shoes. I worry that the painter’s palate has dried out too much this year. Fireworks may have been postponed due to the heat.
There is always a silver lining, though. October is just around the corner, home of my favorite holiday of all. No matter what age I am, I will always love Halloween. No longer for the costumes or the candy, but for the scares that inevitably accompany its arrival. Cable channels love thematic programming, which means lots of terror-ific viewing to frighten and entertain me on those cold house-bound days.
Halloween is as far as I can think right now. The rest of the holidays are too much, too close. Too everything that I’m not ready to bear.
And there, denizens, are my thoughts expunged. Lyrical demons exorcised? Perhaps. Then again, perhaps it’s time I finally added some Mamas and Papas to my playlist. Now I must return to the daily grind. Things are a bit overwhelming at work right now, which is why I have been so absent of late. Never fear, though. I shall return in a more regular capacity soon enough.
Until then, here’s a photo that always cheers me up. It’s a rejected publicity shot of Jeri Ryan as Seven of Nine (Okay, who is surprised right now that it would be a Star Trek photo? No one? Good). It’s from the rare photo section of TrekCore.com. I don’t really understand why it was rejected, as I think it’s one of the best photos ever taken of Ryan as Seven. Gorgeous chiaroscuro treatment and a classy accentuation of those parts of her that held her to her Borg past while downplaying those parts of her that made her salaciously Human (especially in those skin-tight catsuits!). That’s probably why this photo was rejected. Not…er, titillating enough. Ah well. It’s still beautiful. Whoever the photographer was, they should be very proud of this composition. It’s absolutely wonderful.
Whilst visiting my dad and his siblings this weekend for a combined August birthday celebration, I saw the following poster hanging on the wall beside the kitchen telephone. It’s something that my dad found while he was sorting through some papers from my grandparents’ belongings.
Isn’t it the grooviest thing you’ve ever seen? Especially considering that it was printed by the Government Printing Office, which admittedly isn’t renowned for its awesome artistry. But this fairly screams “I was designed in the 60s!! I’m groovy and far out!”
Dig it, man. Dig it.
Isn’t this the most wonderful mashup of science reality and science fiction EVAR? It’s the cast of the original Star Trek (sans the Shat) and Trek creator Gene Roddenberry at the dedication ceremony for NASA’s first space shuttle orbiter, the Enterprise.
Really, was there any other name they could have given this first shuttle? Well, actually, yes. The original name was going to be the Constitution, because shuttle construction was slated to be completed in 1976, America’s bicentennial year. However, when NASA made this announcement, they were inundated by letters from thousands of Trek fans who simply could not believe that anyone would dare suggest a name other than Enterprise for the first shuttle. NASA wisely rethought their plans…and meta history was made.
What could be cooler than this, you might ask? Allow Loba to show you.
What’s that? Is that…could it be…?
Well, yeah, that sure does look like a space shuttle. And that ginormous American flag must mean it’s an honest-to-goodness original! But…is it the Enterprise?
Would I give you anything less, denizens?
A brief explanation: In December 2003, the Smithsonian opened their Steven F. Udvar-Hazy Center near Northern Virginia’s Dulles International Airport. This center, an annex of the Smithsonian’s National Air and Space Museum (NASM), became the showcase for all of the larger pieces that NASM had collected over the years, like the Enterprise, but had no room at their D.C. location to showcase. Most of these pieces had been in storage for years, hidden away from public viewing, sometimes rolled out to the downtown museum for temporary exhibits but never finding a permanent home.
Pieces like the controversial Enola Gay, the Boeing B-29 Superfortress that dropped the first atomic bomb, code name “Little Boy,” on Hiroshima, Japan:
Or this Air France Concorde supersonic airliner:
(Can’t forget a shot of that famous needle nose!)
Or this beauty, the Clipper Flying Cloud, the only surviving Boeing 307 Stratoliner in existence:
Or the always X-citing SR-71 Blackbird (please, someone get my geeky comic book joke!):
The SR-71 and the Enterprise? There might actually be more awesome than legally allowed in this shot:
Okay, I think you get the general idea. The Udvar-Hazy is, without a doubt, one of the most amazing museums within the Smithsonian Institution. Why it took me this long to finally visit is beyond my comprehension. However, I can assure you that if you live within driving distance of this museum and you’re a big geek like me, then you need to visit. And, if you’re ever coming to the D.C. area, you should schedule a nice solid chunk of afternoon to pay a visit. You won’t regret it.
In response to a question regarding Wonder Woman and Xena, Lynda Carter once stated that she thought that Wonder Woman was very classy and that Xena…well, wasn’t. Don’t believe me? Here.
At first, I was a little miffed by this statement, even if it was said by La Carter herself. Xena, not classy?
Well, I’ve been rewatching my Xena DVDs lately…and, yeah, “classy” isn’t really a word I’d use to describe the warrior princess. There are myriad other far more suitable words that spring to mind. Classy just isn’t anywhere near the top of the list. Then again, in a time of ancient gods, warlords, and kings, you don’t really have much of a chance to be classy like Wonder Woman did.
All that said, regardless of whether or not even Carter thinks it’s right or fair to compare the two, it is an inevitable comparison. Which is what prompted this geek break photograph of my Wonder Woman and Xena action figures. Minus the shocking size differences (which shouldn’t be all that shocking; Diana is, after all, the Amazon princess of the two), look at them! There are far too many similarities between these two outfits than can be ignored. Okay, you can ignore them. Unless you’re a geek. Like me. Then they just scream at you every time you look at these figures. Which I do frequently.
I’m not saying anymore. I feel as though I’ve already said too much.
Oh, one more thing: bonus geek points if you can identify the photograph in the background.
Kind of swamped at work, and I’ve been doing fun things away from work (things that I may or may not discuss here at a later time…). Thus are my excuses for any dip in appearances here at the lair.
Mea culpa, denizens.
Here, then, is a photo apology. Here is…BUNNEH. I snapped a shot of this little guy during my Father’s Day visit to North Carolina (yes, it’s been a while…I’m quite behind in posting photos here as well, but hope to resolve this soon with some very exciting photos taken during a recent away team mission).
I think my favorite thing about this photo isn’t even part of the actual image. Instead, it’s the memory of my dad yelling to me as I stalked Bunneh with my telephoto lens, “I think there’s something wrong with that rabbit. He should have run away by now. Why is he just sitting there? Is he frothing? You know, there have been several cases of rabies reported recently in this state. You might not want to get any closer!”
I wanted so desperately to make a Holy Grail Killer Bunny comment at this point in his monologue, but sadly, my dad has never seen the movie.
“Run away! Run away! Run away!”
