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It's Raining Communists in Chinatown
Apr. 29th, 2002 01:15 amThis past weekend I attended two cons in Toronto, and GM’ed twice! Hooray!
On Saturday morning, Thebitterguy and I attended Orion, a medium sized gaming convention. We were able to get in free, as Bitterguy was covering the event for Games Unplugged. I waved a camera around in hopes of also gaining free admittance, wordlessly inferring that I was acting as a photographer for that fine publication. I also loudly proclaimed myself the Godfather of Canadian Furry RPGs, and made unspecified threats in an effort to impress the con organizer with my general importance.
“Don’t you know who I am? You wanna wake up with a mascot head in your bed? Don’t screw with me, Charlie. I wrote Doloreaux!”
They let me in anyway.
Good turn-out for such a relatively small con. I met Shara, whose Livejournal I occasionally leave lame comments on. Thebitterguy interviewed John Zinser, the head honcho of Alderac, while I made them nervous by hanging around and listening to the interview. After a bit, I went and mingled with the hoi polloi. Then I sat and read through some of the Underground supplements I’d picked up.
We left Orion about two o’clock, and rode a streetcar west to the Judith Merrill SF collection at the library on College street. The library was hosting a pulp magazine show/sale, and boy howdy, it was a doozy. If only I hadn’t blown my wad on those Underground supplements! There were literally thousands of original copies of Amazing Stories, Weird Tales, Argosy, Black Mask, Adventure Magazine... you name it. All with those amazingly lurid covers of bold space spacemen in bubble helmets, and streamlined rockets that look more like cars. Hell, if I had my druthers, I’d have a few dozen pulp mag covers framed and hanging around the house.
Unfortunately, my druthers were sent to dry-cleaners in 1997, and I can’t find the claim ticket. *rim-shot*
We spent about 30 minutes at the show, and then stepped out to luncheon at Burger King in Chinatown, because the Mexican cantina was closed, and the Indian place was take-out only. Gotta love the global society.
On the streetcar ride back to my parking lot, we snickered in an odious fashion at a sizable procession of protesters that blocked traffic in the opposite direction. They waved Palestinian flags, peace symbols and communist placards, and shouted anti-War, anti-Israeli, anti-American, anti-Canadian, anti-Tory, and anti-corporate slogans. Pretty much one of those “Boo for everything” events, really.
One group of marchers strode behind a banner declaring themselves to be the ‘Communist Party of Iraq.’ (I guess they have trouble organizing marches in Baghdad.) They were followed by the Communist Party of Canada, the Workers Party of Canada, the Canadian Socialist Workers, and some Palestinian Socialists. This was kind of amusing, as they were heading right into Chinatown. I’m sure all the immigrants and refugees from were thrilled to see ‘em, and pleased as punch to have gangs of arm-chair communists blocking access to the businesses and homes they’ve built in our decadent Capitalist country. I’m sure it made them nostalgic for the Good Old Days under Uncle Mao.
The Palestinian Socialists were followed by some actual Palestinians, anti-poverty activists, anti-war grandmas, and a scattering of college-age anti-globalization protesters fresh from protesting their inability to borrow Dad's Lexus. Taking up the rear were about a dozen horse mounted policemen in riot gear, who made sure the procession didn’t try and stop to conduct a sit-in protest against a parking meter or something. I must say, it was a sight that warmed the cockles of my closeted fascist heart. The crack of a baton against a skull full of fuzzy ideas is one of the sweetest sounds one can hear in the city, I think.
Okay, okay, I’m kidding. I do think, though, the men “who think in slogans” that Orwell wrote about are just as to be feared today as they were in 1930. The odd thing is, the worst slogan chanting world-changers of his day were right-wing, and the left-wing were intellectuals. Now the parading chanters are left-wing, and right-wing folks are often quiet thinkers. Wrong-headed thinkers, certainly, but they seem to give their philosophy more thought than many knee-jerk left-wingers. As for me, I used to describe my politics as Nonpartisan Paternalistic Semisocialism. Whatever that means. In effect, I vote for people who are unlikely to win, provided they aren't racist or want to take away my health care. I largely do this just so they don’t feel bad.
Honestly, in some ridings you’ll get an independent, or someone from a wonky fringe party like Natural Law, who gets single digit votes. They can almost certainly name all their voters. “Let’s see, 8 votes... well, that’s one from me, four from Doris and the kids, one from grandma, one from that weird guy at the office.. so, wow! Someone else voted for me!” I figure voting for them gives them a sense of accomplishment, and in some small way to encourages partisan variety.
I certainly don’t encourage everyone to vote this way - if they did, Canada would be ruled by a alliance of the Catholic Pork Farmer’s Collective and the Church of the Universe. (One of those two is real!)
Ye gods, the man with the world record for passing kidney stones just came into the office. He’s topped about 5000 now. I last met him in the fall, when he was only at 4500. The poor, poor, poor bastard. He’s bent double and badly jaundiced. He wears a permanent morphine pump. I cannot conceive of what his life must be like. He’s lived this way for ten years, and every time I see him, he looks feebler and sicker. What a claim to fame! He probably goes to bed thinking “Why couldn’t I be the guy that ate the bicycle!? Why??”
ON Saturday, I GM’ed a d20 Call of Cthulhu game for the lads. It went surprisingly well. They jumped right in character - and spent much of the game role-playing amongst each other rather, which was a nice change.
On Sunday morning, I went to church. Erin was already up there, as she teaches youth choir before the service. As I left, my sister-in-law showed up at the door with my mother-in-law and semi-official-step-father-in-law. Sis-in-law had told Erin that she would have to store a “few things” at the house during the coming month.
I was modestly surprised to see the moving van.
My basement is now full of boxes. Ah well. I know I bitched about her in a previous entry, but she’s a nice enough girl, and quite intelligent. My biggest beef is the idea of a month-long visit. It wouldn’t matter if the visitor was C.S. Lewis. I’d have the same general objection.
Sunday afternoon was filled with idling and video games - Freedom Force, specifically. Also, I just received copy of the Dr. Who spoof “Curse of the Fatal Death,” starring Rowan Atkinson, Jonathan Pryce, Hugh Grant, Richard E. Grant, Joanna Lumley... etc. Quite amusing. :-)
In the evening, we played D&D in Dundas. The session was a little shorter than I liked, and the group has yet to properly embark on “Forge of Fury” module, but it was fun. They are an annoyingly creative group - and spent a good 40 minutes of game time heatedly discussing the pros and cons of using the front door. They ended up finding a back entrance to the dungeon complex - an 800 foot long submerged tunnel at the bottom of a glacial lake. A tunnel which, incidentally, leads directly to a dragon’s lair. Did I mention that only the mage was able to make the journey through the tunnel, by transforming himself into a mereman? He showed up in this completely lightless underground lake, armed only with a dagger in his teeth, blind and deafened by the roar of an unseen waterfall.
I let him escape. I’m far too kindly...
Council tonight. Yay. Day one of the Houseguest Saga is coming to a close.
On Saturday morning, Thebitterguy and I attended Orion, a medium sized gaming convention. We were able to get in free, as Bitterguy was covering the event for Games Unplugged. I waved a camera around in hopes of also gaining free admittance, wordlessly inferring that I was acting as a photographer for that fine publication. I also loudly proclaimed myself the Godfather of Canadian Furry RPGs, and made unspecified threats in an effort to impress the con organizer with my general importance.
“Don’t you know who I am? You wanna wake up with a mascot head in your bed? Don’t screw with me, Charlie. I wrote Doloreaux!”
They let me in anyway.
Good turn-out for such a relatively small con. I met Shara, whose Livejournal I occasionally leave lame comments on. Thebitterguy interviewed John Zinser, the head honcho of Alderac, while I made them nervous by hanging around and listening to the interview. After a bit, I went and mingled with the hoi polloi. Then I sat and read through some of the Underground supplements I’d picked up.
We left Orion about two o’clock, and rode a streetcar west to the Judith Merrill SF collection at the library on College street. The library was hosting a pulp magazine show/sale, and boy howdy, it was a doozy. If only I hadn’t blown my wad on those Underground supplements! There were literally thousands of original copies of Amazing Stories, Weird Tales, Argosy, Black Mask, Adventure Magazine... you name it. All with those amazingly lurid covers of bold space spacemen in bubble helmets, and streamlined rockets that look more like cars. Hell, if I had my druthers, I’d have a few dozen pulp mag covers framed and hanging around the house.
Unfortunately, my druthers were sent to dry-cleaners in 1997, and I can’t find the claim ticket. *rim-shot*
We spent about 30 minutes at the show, and then stepped out to luncheon at Burger King in Chinatown, because the Mexican cantina was closed, and the Indian place was take-out only. Gotta love the global society.
On the streetcar ride back to my parking lot, we snickered in an odious fashion at a sizable procession of protesters that blocked traffic in the opposite direction. They waved Palestinian flags, peace symbols and communist placards, and shouted anti-War, anti-Israeli, anti-American, anti-Canadian, anti-Tory, and anti-corporate slogans. Pretty much one of those “Boo for everything” events, really.
One group of marchers strode behind a banner declaring themselves to be the ‘Communist Party of Iraq.’ (I guess they have trouble organizing marches in Baghdad.) They were followed by the Communist Party of Canada, the Workers Party of Canada, the Canadian Socialist Workers, and some Palestinian Socialists. This was kind of amusing, as they were heading right into Chinatown. I’m sure all the immigrants and refugees from were thrilled to see ‘em, and pleased as punch to have gangs of arm-chair communists blocking access to the businesses and homes they’ve built in our decadent Capitalist country. I’m sure it made them nostalgic for the Good Old Days under Uncle Mao.
The Palestinian Socialists were followed by some actual Palestinians, anti-poverty activists, anti-war grandmas, and a scattering of college-age anti-globalization protesters fresh from protesting their inability to borrow Dad's Lexus. Taking up the rear were about a dozen horse mounted policemen in riot gear, who made sure the procession didn’t try and stop to conduct a sit-in protest against a parking meter or something. I must say, it was a sight that warmed the cockles of my closeted fascist heart. The crack of a baton against a skull full of fuzzy ideas is one of the sweetest sounds one can hear in the city, I think.
Okay, okay, I’m kidding. I do think, though, the men “who think in slogans” that Orwell wrote about are just as to be feared today as they were in 1930. The odd thing is, the worst slogan chanting world-changers of his day were right-wing, and the left-wing were intellectuals. Now the parading chanters are left-wing, and right-wing folks are often quiet thinkers. Wrong-headed thinkers, certainly, but they seem to give their philosophy more thought than many knee-jerk left-wingers. As for me, I used to describe my politics as Nonpartisan Paternalistic Semisocialism. Whatever that means. In effect, I vote for people who are unlikely to win, provided they aren't racist or want to take away my health care. I largely do this just so they don’t feel bad.
Honestly, in some ridings you’ll get an independent, or someone from a wonky fringe party like Natural Law, who gets single digit votes. They can almost certainly name all their voters. “Let’s see, 8 votes... well, that’s one from me, four from Doris and the kids, one from grandma, one from that weird guy at the office.. so, wow! Someone else voted for me!” I figure voting for them gives them a sense of accomplishment, and in some small way to encourages partisan variety.
I certainly don’t encourage everyone to vote this way - if they did, Canada would be ruled by a alliance of the Catholic Pork Farmer’s Collective and the Church of the Universe. (One of those two is real!)
Ye gods, the man with the world record for passing kidney stones just came into the office. He’s topped about 5000 now. I last met him in the fall, when he was only at 4500. The poor, poor, poor bastard. He’s bent double and badly jaundiced. He wears a permanent morphine pump. I cannot conceive of what his life must be like. He’s lived this way for ten years, and every time I see him, he looks feebler and sicker. What a claim to fame! He probably goes to bed thinking “Why couldn’t I be the guy that ate the bicycle!? Why??”
ON Saturday, I GM’ed a d20 Call of Cthulhu game for the lads. It went surprisingly well. They jumped right in character - and spent much of the game role-playing amongst each other rather, which was a nice change.
On Sunday morning, I went to church. Erin was already up there, as she teaches youth choir before the service. As I left, my sister-in-law showed up at the door with my mother-in-law and semi-official-step-father-in-law. Sis-in-law had told Erin that she would have to store a “few things” at the house during the coming month.
I was modestly surprised to see the moving van.
My basement is now full of boxes. Ah well. I know I bitched about her in a previous entry, but she’s a nice enough girl, and quite intelligent. My biggest beef is the idea of a month-long visit. It wouldn’t matter if the visitor was C.S. Lewis. I’d have the same general objection.
Sunday afternoon was filled with idling and video games - Freedom Force, specifically. Also, I just received copy of the Dr. Who spoof “Curse of the Fatal Death,” starring Rowan Atkinson, Jonathan Pryce, Hugh Grant, Richard E. Grant, Joanna Lumley... etc. Quite amusing. :-)
In the evening, we played D&D in Dundas. The session was a little shorter than I liked, and the group has yet to properly embark on “Forge of Fury” module, but it was fun. They are an annoyingly creative group - and spent a good 40 minutes of game time heatedly discussing the pros and cons of using the front door. They ended up finding a back entrance to the dungeon complex - an 800 foot long submerged tunnel at the bottom of a glacial lake. A tunnel which, incidentally, leads directly to a dragon’s lair. Did I mention that only the mage was able to make the journey through the tunnel, by transforming himself into a mereman? He showed up in this completely lightless underground lake, armed only with a dagger in his teeth, blind and deafened by the roar of an unseen waterfall.
I let him escape. I’m far too kindly...
Council tonight. Yay. Day one of the Houseguest Saga is coming to a close.
