He’s been dead for a long time, but good lord what a snack. – Marc Bolan
He’s been dead for a long time, but good lord what a snack. – Marc Bolan
A couple of days ago, Misha Collins, Jensen Ackles and Jared Padalecki got on social media to announce that the TV show Supernatural is ending next season (season 15, over 320 episodes) and the finale of all finales will thus be next season – their choice, most likely. A couple of them had been crying, which doesn’t bother me, I’d be crying too if I moved along from the best job I’d ever had even if it was my choice.
Inside the fandom, for the show, there is a substantial chonk of LGBT and straight cisgirl fans who absolutely love on the idea of a romance between Castiel the angel, who appeared season 4, and Dean the Hunter, who, along with his brother Sam the Hunter, carries the show week to week.
There are also Supernatural fans who write fanfic in the A/B/O universe (don’t look, it’s a concourse of poorly realized paraphilias and it’s even worse when you realize that (never mind, just more fandom bs) and I have read precisely one decently written A/B/O fic so I know it’s possible but Jesus it’s GROSS) and write explicitly incestuous fic (it’s called Wincest, and I haven’t even let my eyes roam over one of them, thanks).
Neither of these two things are supported by the show; Destiel, which is the mashup of the names of Dean and Castiel, while not supported word for word in script canon, is teased at, at least once a season, all through the show. I won’t go into the list of specific callouts as to there being romance in the air, just go to the Dean/Castiel page on Superwiki, where it’s all laid out in prim detail.
It’s my belief that the show would rather kill one of the characters than let any of them wander off into the sunset, encoupled. From a strictly ‘whose body is this’ standpoint, there’s no longer any squick about who Castiel’s vessel is, which removed a lot of the hassles about a canonical romance. But
it doesn’t fit the show. And Castiel, although he can be briefly physically affectionate, has not been represented as a sexual being, at least not successfully.
So yeah, I’ll write fanfic because it looks like love, romance and lifetime commitment to me. But anybody who thinks Destiel is gonna be canon is a fucking idiot, because the lead actor, the gold standard of a richly successful franchise, is happy with how things are.
The queer-baiting will continue until you make your own art, folx. (Definition of queer-baiting on the page linked to above.)
Joan Rivers claimed she banged Robert Mitchum back in the 60s.
damn I’m jelly
Jeff pointed out this article to me. Scary stuff.
At Mike’s. The sky is grey but little dabs of blue and white are starting to show through. (an hour later…. not so much really, sigh).
Goddamn Hurricane Matthew. I have a bad, bad feeling about it. If the track holds steady a lot of people are going to be dealing with seawater where it ought not to be.
It would be tragic if the hurricane hits the East coast at the same time as the (not very exactly) predicted West coast quake.
Just had somebody point my transmisogyny out to me. That damned Donald Trump. I know that doesn’t make much sense but the two things are connected. Also Barry Blitt. This cover is transphobic, but how I laughed when I saw it. Then two transwomen mentioned they’d laughed their asses off, and sometimes allies are quicker on the draw than the people they’re trying to protect, and I felt a little better, because if I was a transwoman I imagine my sense of humour would be even more vile than it is now, since there’s something about (ed. – Shut the **** up now, please.)
I am two days ahead on writing, so I’m probably going to make notes and take the weekend off from writing. VCON is this weekend, but J and Paul are going for parts of it so “yay” I’m not going. There’d be no point hiding out in the filk room even, even after Dara sent out a call for minions for her rousing song, “Sad Muppets.” And yet I’m really okay with all this and I’m just pretending to be put out, because I’m broke, and all I can think about is how much money I spent in the dealers room the last time I went. Conflikt is in January. I’ll go filk among my friends.
Finished season 1 of Supernatural. Sadly, you cannot make Vancouver and environs look like southern Georgia but by god that doesn’t stop the locations scouts from trying. Also, Jensen Ackles can whisper advice about how to deal with demons in my ear an.y.time. I like Jared Padalecki but he brings out my maternal instincts (sadly withered but still present).
Saw Alex and Katie the other day. He is a busy little bee, sweet and biddable and mischievous and noisy. And he has a VERY good memory. Katie recounted the story.
He and Katie had only ever walked to Julie’s house. She left town six months ago. As they were coming to my place the last time they visited me, Alex pointed at Julie’s old house and said, “Julie house.” So he dredged up a memory from before he could talk, after seeing the house from a completely different angle, and put the two together. Katie was flabbergasted. I suspect his memory is better than the rest of us put together.
Or FIFES, I can hear FIFES.
This is my blog
This is my only blog
This is my only blog of blogs that I will ever flog
and social media is a selfie-clogged bog
full of piggy palpating kitties
and wild skateboarding dogs
Rock me gently in the loving arms of WENDELL.
Wendell Clark just followed me on twitter. If you don’t know who Wendell Clark is, then you watch much less television than I do. And if you do know, then you know why I’m happy.
It just seems like the end of civilization to me.
Civilian tilt rotor aircraft? All I can think of is the maintenance.
Keith came by yesterday and pumped up my tires and did a pre flight check on my bicycle. I am now ready to do a shop via bicycle.
I’ve gotten back into practicing every day, which means that every once in a while I fondle my callouses. We’ve booked another musical evening at Paul’s for the 17th of April. SO looking forward to it. Sue and Brian can’t come (already got some answers back, waa.)
Crappy maintenance and poor planning on the part of SFU crash the hopes of single women trying to get a career together.
They put filk music in quotes and rilly rilly pissed me off. A lot about this article is if not wrong, then wrongheaded.
Once upon a time I had a chance to have a kid with nappy hair. It was a long time ago and beside, that ex-husband is dead. (RIP Phillip, you were one powerfully strange dude).
Styled, wild, fro’ed, dreaded, combed, razored. It is not a sexualized thing, and I don’t normally publicly comment, but I love it, and when I see a really awesome do, I don’t say a damn thing. I just feel happy.
Whatever publicity accrues to Mr. Ghomeshi’s departure from the CBC, there is a strong likelihood that his employment contract contained a morals clause.
He was expensive. He was not beloved of the Harper Government. There will be people willing to testify in court that he doesn’t toe the BDSM party line about ongoing consent. (Under oath or no…)
He should quit this pre-emptive rehabilitation he’s paying fountains of cash for. He’ll make more money than Croesus as an impresario – after he recovers from his father’s death. He’ll definitely have better phone security.
My two coppers.
By the way I’m really pissed off about this because my CBC interviewer in the novel is based on him (genderswapped). PISS ME OFF. Grr.
Here’s a chaser. A technically and emotionally superior guitarist.
The visit with the fOlks was very good and we had a SPECTACULAR trip back. The wind and the sun were in perfect proportion, and we got chocolate soft ice cream for a snack. Thank you Paul for subsidizing that trip (pOp too….) and mOm for the baby stuffs. It was fun noodling around Victoria looking for baby stuffs.
Why I love Susan Sarandon. She just so effervescently and totally rocks.
Watched Boyhood. I really enjoyed it, and then immediately read a black critic’s takedown of it and have to now file the movie under guilty pleasures. Sigh. Jeff bailed partway through since various characters were being jerks.
Sahara Delights is now in the space Kitty Kate’s Cafe was in.
Went singing at Tom and Peggy’s last night. The alto part for Word of God is wicked hard.
Despite the last two series of Sherlock being golden moments with half hours of ludicrous illogical crap in between, I’m quite taken with this young Cumberbatch fellow, and hope to watch Parade’s End, which features him prominently in some kind of period love triangle. Oh, yeah.
Church had our former minister Harold Rosen, who traversed through Judaism and Unitarianism to end up being Baha’i. He spoke on the processes of justice from an interfaith / Baha’i perspective. Had a brief meeting with Sally about my homily on the 9th of March – exactly a month from today. We squared away some things I hadn’t thought of.
The coffee, as always, was excellent. I picked up some chocolate for Jeff… fair trade organic chocolate does taste better.
I have learned that someone I only know through the internet is going to run as a Libertarian candidate. His campaign promises so far…. are so ludicrous and hilarious that I would vote for him in a heartbeat. He’s the only Libertarian I’ve ever run across who’s a feminist. If there were more like him I wouldn’t be hating on Libertarians so much.
Jeff got Keith’s call last night. Sounds like he’s still having magical amounts of fun in the land of Oz.
I’m feeling kinda sludgy… hope to make word count today.
Oh my screaming g’s the Detroit Philly game. It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas. Six inches of snow on the camera crew and half the football disappears when you put it down. When the player rooted double handsful of snow out of his face mask I howled.
Furnace is broken, internet is spotty. Working right now, but who knows later. It’s been like this for days now.
We’re at the end of Season 4 for Burn Notice and Jeff has declared a short moratorium. That’s okay, because I’m currently thrilling to the amazing dress sense of the lovely Phryne Fisher of Miss Fisher’s Murder Mysteries. It’s very much in the Foyle’s War category of murder mysteries, except Australian and Phryne is a SLUTTTT! A cheerful, unapologetic and unambiguous one (but sex scenes are strictly decorous and mostly off screen). She drives a Hispano Suiza! She has a gold plated pistol, which never seems to have any ammo! She is awesome. So until I get Michael Westen back, probably about a week from now, I’ll have to watch Farscape and Miss Fisher instead.
Person to see the shop yesterday didn’t show. Somebody else called, I’m showing it Tuesday.
David Simon (of the Wire) talkin”bout capitalizm.
I am thinking of going to the shooting range the next time Keith and Rob go.
I know I spend a lot of time whining, but I am really happy to be alive, and I’m writing and practicing every day, and there’s food in the fridge, and my friends love me, and my cat is cheerfully indifferent to me unless I’m crinkling packaging.
Eddie is feeling a bit better – his appetite has returned – but he’s now hiding in Jeff’s bathroom cupboard a good chunk of the time.
I have half completed my first of two new homilies (March 9 and May 11, or perhaps the other way around) and intend to have a completed draft of the first by the end of the week. mOm I should have a bit off to you shortly.
The Alberta government has tabled legislation that will prevent public sector union employees from even TALKING about striking. What unutterable bullshit! My prairie populist ancestors are whirling in their graves like a rotisserie set on stun.
Yay, Natalie Reed is blogging again. She is a queer trans blogger living in Vancouver and she can write like a m*****-******* riot.
How’s everybody this morning? Good? Not so good!? Hm. Let me see what I can do about that.
Just when La Mami Naturaleza seems to have shot her last bolt in the weird department, along comes something like this. Do please watch the video.
I bought and now have used a bunch of equipment for my rehab. I am already stronger and more able to extend my arm forwards at 90 degrees. Jeff rolls his eyes when I do exercises while watching TV, it’s quite distracting.
Jeff’s first impressions of the Mac Mini. There’s something useful in there about the Home/End issue which people transitioning from pc to mac always trip over.
Hey, I don’t mind fashion when it looks like this. Possibly, erm, not suitable for work.
More evidence, although it didn’t need to be adduced, why Stephen Fry fucking RULES.
The Nepean Redskins will be changing their name and logo at the end of this season. VERY PLEASED ABOUT THIS. On the other hand there is this piece of dreck masquerading as a sports common tater. In a hundred years we will look back and wonder why the hell we did this to ourselves.
And in this Brave New World, homeless people use Bitcoins.
I could do this without breaking a sweat. After all, I’ve already done it, just ask Jeff.
I have simply spectacular good news but I can’t say anything about it until I receive authorization. It has to do with me and music. I’ll leave it at that.
Board meeting was excellent and productive. We had a board meeting/potluck and Jeff grazed on leftovers. One of the joys of Unitarianism is candle wax, and I got some on my gran’s linen tablecloth but sing HA I have already ironed the wax out and I’ve run the tablecloth through the laundry. So no harm done. We had to make some hard choices, but Debra is an awesome minister and she is completely unFaZed by organizational change, is a great communicator and gosh darn a nice person. She told her partner recently that she’s falling in love with Beacon. I dearly love Rev Katie and really enjoy her posts (and her hubby’s) on facebook (the only way I keep track of her as there is meshugas about a retired minister poking head back in to a church for a couple of years) but she is a reserved individual and Debra is a gregarious individual and it’s obviously playing out in an interesting way in congregational life.
I’m seeing Katie for lunch today – her treat, yippee.
TAMMY IS COMING THIS MONTH. So looking forward to seeing her and her mum, whom I usually see at the festive season.
Sue is playing Santa Claus in a play which I am going to go see. She says playing Santa Claus is hot and hard, which kinda makes it sound pornographic now I write it out like that.
I got a completely unprintable and exceedingly welcome compliment from somebody recently, to the point that I must now quote Mark Twain: “I can live two months on a good compliment”. I may have to stretch it out even farther than that.
I have a very obnoxious complaint to make about somebody and I am not going to publicly state it. I want a medal or something.
I think Jeff is thrilled we had company; there’s whipped cream in the fridge and the kitchen table is now clear. Oops, just put laundry on it. O well, it was nice while it lasted.
This afternoon after my Katietime I will do something productive, just haven’t figured out which of my piles of shit I should attempt to render into something useful first.
I love Lockout. Guy Pearce is A GREAT SMARTASS. Man after my own heart. Here’s a quote from him: [2007, on his music] “I don’t want to make music to get into the pop charts and make a career out of it. I just want to play music with other people. Sometimes I record it. I think there is a value in recording it in the same way that you might write a diary. Writing a diary does not mean that you want to publish it. If this is my diary, I’m not sure that I want it to be read. And anyway, I think there is an automatic disdain for somebody who is too ambitious. People think as an actor you are gifted and don’t have any troubles in life. You are lucky to be doing this thing where all you have to do is go around telling lies and you get to kiss beautiful women. So how dare you want to be able to do this other thing. I am not interested in releasing music to a skeptical audience.”
I mourn the passing of Dave Brubeck, and light a candle also for the victims of the Montréal Massacre
I may have mentioned Jeff and I are working our way through the entirety of ER (when we need a palate cleanser, 2nd season SG1). We’ve had 8 seasons of getting to know, love and hate various people.
I took a book out of the library about Must See TV, the part of the nineties when NBC had groundbreaking shows like Third Rock from the Sun and ER and Seinfeld and Cheers and Frasier and Will and Grace and Mad About You and Friends, shows that were ALL ABOUT THE WRITING. In the last chapter of the book, it was made abundantly clear that NBC no longer gives a tinker’s cuss about writing – sales and marketing runs the show and they run the least offensive shows that cost the least amount of money to make. In defence of the current iteration of talent management and development at NBC, ER had a 44 market share and a top ten hit show in 2012 has a 13 (Julianna Margulies was comparing ER and The Good Wife, her current show), and it’s because there’s a lot more TV happening especially competition from HBO and AMC and Showtime, so it’s harder to have a hit. But honestly, folks, without the writing and the courage to try something new, good tv DOES NOT HAPPEN. It’s happening on cable – that’s where the action is.
Well, in my little universe of time-shifted tv, main character Mark Greene just died of brain cancer, and I wept non stop for an imaginary character for 20 minutes. Under the circumstances, mocking the ability of other people to believe in God seems a tad uncharitable…. must resolve to quit every doing it. My imaginary friends…. sigh.
And Anthony Edwards, the actor playing Mark Greene, is back on TV, and the show description is so lame I don’t want to watch it.
Wrote 850 words of backstory on Midnite Moving Co last night. Oh lady of the deep waves, how I love you. Trying to write a human alien character who doesn’t speak is freaking hard…. But I now have the story of how she met George, from his perspective. Writing it from hers will be very hard.
Off to church now.