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| 0523485554
| 3.52
| 393
| Feb 16, 1983
| Feb 1983
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it was ok
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Treasure of the Rubbermaids 21: The Great Dixie Machine Gun Time-Mowing Adventure Crossover! At long last! Because At long last! Because The on-going discoveries of priceless books and comics found in a stack of Rubbermaid containers previously stored and forgotten at my parent’s house and untouched for almost 20 years. Thanks to my father dumping them back on me, I now spend my spare time unearthing lost treasures from their plastic depths. 1859 - Richmond, Virgina “Hey, you just appeared out of thin air. You must be a time-traveler.” “Yeah, after my laptop fused with my lawn mower by a freak lightning strike, I can use it to move through time. My name’s Kemper, and I’m from 2014. And since you immediately knew what was going on, I’m guessing that you’re a member of the club?” “That’s right. I’m Sergeant Troy Harmon of the US Army. I’m from 1983. I‘m here on a mission that‘s vital to the future of America.” “I’m just dicking around myself. So what’s the problem, Sergeant?” “In ’83 I was brought in to a small secret government group that watchdogs classified projects. They were concerned that that a colonel named McCulloch in charge of the security of one of these operations started exhibiting odd behavior. He was buying large amounts of gold. When I interviewed him, he exhibited angry racist tendencies and was extremely uncooperative. Then he vanished suddenly after committing several criminal acts, and I learned that he had also stolen blueprints for an easily manufactured machine gun from the government archives.” “Oh, shit! That crazy bastard was going to come back and give machine guns to the South in the Civil War!” “Wow…. You figured that out remarkably fast. It took me a lot longer.” “Really? I thought you when you put racist, time travel, machine guns and gold together it’s pretty obvious. But since the Union still won the war, and I never heard about any Confederate machine guns, it must never have happened, right?” “That’s what we thought initially, too. One of the scientists working there told me that it could be that McCulloch started an alternate time line, but I wondered if the reason he failed was because I came back and prevented it. Plus, I hated the idea of his plan succeeding even if it was in a parallel universe. So I volunteered to come back and stop him.” “You volunteered? Uh…Sergeant, forgive me for stating the obvious, but you’re African-American.” “I’m not familiar with that term.” “Oh, right. 1983... What I mean is that you’re black.” “I am.” “And you volunteered to come back in time when slavery was still legal and American society was incredibly racist?” “I did.” “Well, Sergeant, I gotta give you credit. That’s a brave thing you did.” “Thank you. I admit that I have a few regrets about leaving 1983 forever.” “You can’t go back?” “No, our time travel method is one way…. Uh, that time-mower of yours, you can use it to go back to the future?” “Yep. Once you settle McCullouch’s hash, do you want a ride?” “Yes, please. This time sucks ass.” ***** This particular Rubbermaid treasure is the result of Jeff's review of The Guns of the South which sounded incredibly familiar to me with it’s story of a time traveling racist giving machine guns to the Confederates in the Civil War, but I didn’t think I’d ever read any Harry Turtledove books. A little digging in the basement unearthed this paperback which I'd almost completely forgotten about, and I see that it was released almost a decade earlier than The Guns of the South. I don’t know what the story is there, so I won’t say that Turtledove completely LaBeoufed his book, but the plots sound more than a little similar. This isn’t bad as far as time travel stories go. It’s fast paced with a light breezy style that doesn’t get too bogged down in any timey-wimey aspects. However, there’s a frustration to reading it that may not be entirely the author’s fault. My copy of this has a picture of a Confederate soldier holding a machine gun on the cover along with the picture of a man in a modern suit with a Confederate flag as the background and the tag line “The South Will Rise” under the title. On the back, there’s a drawing of Robert E. Lee along with the schematic of a machine gun with this little blurb that asks what if the North could still lose the Civil War. Then you start reading it, and there’s this racist colonel hoarding gold while working on a top secret project. Then he murders some people and vanishes when he realizes he’s being investigated. Troy Harmon learns about the time travel and the machine gun plans, and yet he still doesn’t figure out that he’s gone back in time until halfway through the book. So any reader probably knows where this was going the entire time, but the first half of the book plays out like it’s a giant mystery. Anyone hoping for extensive action in the past will probably be disappointed because all of the 1859 stuff happens after that. The whole thing ends up feeling pretty lightweight and thin. Maybe Harry Harrison intended for the book to start out as a modern mystery that took a sci-fi turn but the marketing gave it away. The book might play better if you didn't know what was coming. But when you’ve got Robert E. Lee and Confederate soldiers with machine guns on the cover, it feels like a huge let down when you don’t get more of that. ...more |
Notes are private!
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1
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Mar 27, 2014
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Apr 05, 2014
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Mar 27, 2014
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Paperback
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| 0316176729
| 9780316176729
| 0316176729
| 3.40
| 1,820
| Sep 28, 2011
| Sep 28, 2011
|
liked it
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“I haven’t taken the time-mower out for a spin lately. I’ll just fire it up and ….Hey, who are you? How did you get in my garage? And why are you poin
“I haven’t taken the time-mower out for a spin lately. I’ll just fire it up and ….Hey, who are you? How did you get in my garage? And why are you pointing that gun at me? If you need a weed-eater that bad, just take it.” “Don’t play dumb with me, hag.” “Hag? Why are you calling me a female witch?” “You’re going to pretend that you belong in this timeline with your time machine sitting right there, hag?” “Again with the hag? Look, my name is Kemper and this is my timeline. I’ve got a time-mower because of a freak accident involving a lightning strike fusing my laptop to my lawn mower.” “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard, hag.” “I can’t disagree with you there, but it’s true. I got his time machine by accident and sometimes I go traveling like a half-assed version of Doctor Who.” “Hmmmmm.. My files are telling me that there is indeed a Kemper from this time in this area so I guess you’re not a hag after all.” “Why are you acting like you've checked some files? You’re just standing there with a gun. And I‘m guessing you‘re a time traveler, too? And what’s with this ‘hag’ business? You can tell me because I think we’re part of the same club.” “Very well. My name is Zed, but I’m operating under the name Troy Jones in this time. I’m from the future, and I’ve been sent back into the past by my government to prevent historical agitators, that we call ‘hags’, from changing events in our past.” “Wow. So these hags are back here causing a bunch of trouble and you’re like some kind of time-cop that stops them?” “Not exactly. You see, there are some dark times ahead for the world during a period we call the Great Conflagration.” “Well, that doesn’t sound like much fun. These hags cause it?” “No, the hags are trying to stop it. I’m here to make sure it happens by killing the hags before they can change events.” “Uh….you’re not really sounding like the good guy in this story, Zed.” “The world does suffer mightily in the Great Conflagration, but eventually humanity rebuilds and forms the Perfect Present that I come from. We’ve eliminated war, hunger, racism and all the other problems that have caused conflicts in the past.” “Damn, how did they manage that?” “Mainly by wiping out the historical records. With no history, there are no old grudges of one group against another. Plus, all the different ethnic groups that you have today will eventually breed into one homogenous people.” “If it’s so awesome in the Perfect Present, why do the hags come back to the past to destroy it?” “They think of all the death and destruction as preventable with no regard as to what it would do to the future. So they’ll come back and try to stop an event like 9/11 because they think that saving those lives will somehow build a better future. Plus, they are delusional and think that our government is somehow restrictive.” “And what are you doing in this timeline now?” “I was in the Washington DC area. Events are occurring that are critical to the Great Conflagration. There’s a disgraced former CIA officer who now works for one of the private intelligence firms that have become so prevalent during America’s war on terror. He’s trying to help an Indonesian maid who is essentially a slave to a South Korean diplomat as well as use her to get intelligence. I’ve also met a young woman whose brother was recently killed in Iraq, and she is conflicted about spending her days as a lawyer for companies profiting from the war. All of these people seem to have some kind of role to play in events. However, I received a blow to the head while stopping a hag plot and the files and hardware loaded into me seem to be malfunctioning so I’m having a hard time sorting it out. There seems to be a great deal of confusion among these people about American society and the roles they play in it. Then I got a reading that someone was prepping a time machine of some kind so I came here.” “Yeah, that was me.” “Mr. Kemper, I must insist that you do nothing to stop the coming Great Conflagration.” Oh, you don’t have to worry about me, Zed. I just like playing tourist in history. I got no interest in changing it. Thinking about that stuff gives me a headache. But now that you’ve told me all this, I think I’ve met some of these hags during my time travels.” “You think you know of some hag activity? When and where did his happen?” “It was London during the Blitz in World War II. I bumped into these three asshats….er.. I mean suspicious people who admitted to being time travelers from the future.” “World War II is an era when the hags like to disrupt the timeline. This sounds like a real threat. I should check it out and deal with them immediately.” “Yeah, you do that, Zed. They seemed pretty dangerous so you should probably just whack them as soon as you get the chance.” “Thank you for your concern and the information. I hope your upcoming death in the Great Conflagration isn’t too painful.” “Me too. Good luck.” “Goodbye, Mr. Kemper.” “Goodbye, Zed.” Thank goodness, he’s gone. That guy was a crazy as a shithouse rat. Or at least I hope he was. This Great Conflagration sounds pretty grim. On the other hand, if he really was a time traveler, I might have just settled up with those three nitwits in London. That would almost be worth the destruction of society. ...more |
Notes are private!
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1
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Feb 26, 2013
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Mar 10, 2013
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Apr 28, 2012
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Hardcover
| ||||||||||||||
| 1451660804
| 9781451660807
| 1451660804
| 4.34
| 564,877
| Nov 08, 2011
| Nov 08, 2011
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really liked it
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Adventures in Time Mowing Dallas, Texas 11/22/63 “Hey, you just appeared out of nowhere! How did you do that? And is that a laptop melted onto a lawn mow Adventures in Time Mowing Dallas, Texas 11/22/63 “Hey, you just appeared out of nowhere! How did you do that? And is that a laptop melted onto a lawn mower?” “Yeah. See there was this lightning strike and now I can use my time mower to visit the past and …. Wait a second. If you’re from 1963, how did you know what a laptop is? Oh, shit! You’re a time traveler, too?” “Yes, I am. What year are you from?” “2011. My name’s Kemper.” “No way! I’m from 2011, too. My name is George Amberson. I mean, it’s really Jake Epping. Amberson is the alias I’m using here in the past.” “Nice to meet you, Jake. So I assume you’re here for JFK and the …uh…event.” “Of course. You too?” “Yep. I thought I’d hang out by the grassy knoll, take a few pictures of the fence during the shooting and hopefully put this conspiracy bullshit to bed once and for all.” “You’re just going to watch? I’m here to stop it.” “Stop the JFK assassination? Oh, man. That old chestnut? Really? You‘re buying into that myth?” “What do you mean, Kemper?” “It’s the old baby boomer fantasy. ‘Oh, if only JFK had lived, everything would have been better. He would have gotten us out of Vietnam and the ‘60s wouldn’t have turned ugly and we’d all be living in paradise filled with puppies, unicorns and rainbows.’ Never mind that JFK was the guy who kicked off the really serious troop escalations into Vietnam and gave a wink and a nod to their army for the coup and assassination of the Diem brothers. It’s the Oliver Stone idea where JFK would have saved us from ourselves if only the Vast Conspiracy hadn’t killed him first.” “Oh, well, I guess we did think that saving JFK would make things much better, but we don’t think there’s a big conspiracy. I’m just here to stop Oswald.” “At least we agree on that. But are you sure you should be changing stuff in the past? That seems really dangerous and could cause all kinds of paradoxes. I just wander around and look at stuff, I don’t try to change anything. You don’t want to end up killing your own grandfather, do you? Or worse yet, accidentally become your own grandfather. Yuk!” “It should be fine. We did a few trial runs, and everything seemed OK.” “How did you do trial runs? In fact, how do you time travel? I don’t see a time mower around. And who is this ‘we’ you keep mentioning, Jake?” “I’m a high school English teacher from Maine. I have a friend named Al who found a kind of portal in time. We call it the rabbit hole. Every time you go through it, you wind up at the same day in our home town in 1958. Al went through the rabbit hole over and over for years and discovered that no matter how long you stay, when you go back through the portal, only two minutes have elapsed since you left.” “Didn’t Al end up with a bunch of versions of himself in 1958 then?” “No, because every time you go through the portal, history resets itself like you were never there the first time.” “Let me see if I understand this, Jake. So if your buddy Al went through the portal to 1958 and changed something like saved somebody’s life, and then he went back through to the present, the change would have been made. The person he saved was alive, but if he goes back through the portal to the past again, then everything resets to the original timeline and that person would die, unless Al saved them again, right?” “Exactly. But there’s a few odd things like you could go back and buy something like a hat. You could wear that hat back to the present, and it’d still be there. And you could go back to the past wearing that hat which resets everything, but when you went to the store you bought it from, the same hat would still be on your head and on the shelf at the same time! Isn’t that cool? It’s how Al was able to accumulate money and a few other items and still take them back to the past when he needed.” “That doesn’t sound….right. Jake, are you sure about this? I’m getting very nervous that you’re going to wipe me out of existence or something.” “I told you, Kemper, we did a few trial runs where we saved people from some ugly fates and then went back to the future and everything was fine.” “Still, you’re talking about saving a guy who is going to have a huge impact on history with no idea of how it will play out.” “Don’t worry, Al spent a lot of time thinking about this and doing research. He worked it all out.” “Let me guess. Al is a baby boomer, right?” “Uh…yeah.” “OK, so he talked you into doing this, right? He convinced you that everything would be peaches and gravy if JFK had lived, didn‘t he?” “Uh….kind of.” “Who is Al then? A physicist? A historian?” “Uh…no. He owns the local diner.” “He owns a diner?” “You see, the time portal he found was in his pantry.” “He’s a diner owner with a time portal in his pantry?” “Yes.” “If Al’s so convinced that this is the right thing to do, how come he didn’t do it himself?” “He tried. He came through and lived here several years while he watched Oswald. That‘s why neither of us just killed him. We wanted to be absolutely sure he was acting alone, but then Al got really sick and knew he wouldn’t be able to stop Oswald. So he went back to 2011 and told me about the rabbit hole.” “Oh, hell. I just realized that you had to live here for five years waiting for this moment. Damn, five years in the past must have sucked, Jake.” “Actually, I’ve gotten used to it. It was hard at first because I had to go back through and fix some things we’d done on our trial runs again. You know, because of the reset. I couldn’t stand to let those bad things happen. I had to spend some time in a really nasty town in Maine called Derry.” “Derry? I think I’ve heard of it.” “Really? It was a very ugly place in 1958. They had some child murders.” “Wow, that sounds really familiar for some reason.” “Anyhow, then I spent some time in Florida and then moved to a small town in Texas. I started teaching again and built up a whole life for myself as George Amberson. I really like it here in the past now. I’m thinking about trying to stay forever.” “But what about the segregation and the sexism and the second hand smoke and the lack of high-def television, Jake? Doesn’t that bother you?” “A little. But they have really good root beer in this time. And stuff is really cheap! I can buy a new car for peanuts.” “Nice to see that you don’t let a little thing like institutional racism ruin your appreciation of a good deal. Speaking of which, how did you make money? Just teaching?” “Al gave me some and he had a sheet of sporting events I could bet on to make more. Like I made a pretty penny betting on the Dallas Texans to beat Houston the other night. It was very cool to bet on the Cowboys before they were even the Cowboys.” “Uh…Jake, do you think the Dallas Texans became the Dallas Cowboys?” “Sure.” “That’s not right. The Texans were the AFL team started by Lamar Hunt. The NFL started the Cowboys in Dallas just to screw with him, and he eventually had to move the team to Kansas City and change their name to the Chiefs. The Cowboys were always the Cowboys.” “Really? Are you sure about that, Kemper?” “Yes, I’m goddamn sure about it, I’m from Kansas City. Jesus, you are scaring the shit out of me.” “Why?” “Why? Because you’re back in time screwing around doing stuff like betting football games when you have no idea what the hell you’re even really betting on. I hope to hell you know a lot more about the JFK assassination than you do about pro football.” “Not really.” “What??” “I told you, I was an English teacher, not history. I don’t really know much more than what I remember from my classes in college. I’ve got Al’s notes…” “The research done by the diner owner with the JFK obsession? That’s all you have to go on as you muck around with history, Jake? Did you at least bring some history books with you?” “Uh…” “Oh, you have got to be shitting me.” “We were pressed for time, Kemper!” “Pressed for time?? You said that Al spent years getting ready for this? And each time hop only takes you two minutes, right? You guys couldn’t have found twenty minutes to run into a damn library and check out an American history book?” “Well, in hindsight I guess that would have been a good idea.” “Ya think? I really wish you would have thought this through more than just doing a couple of test runs. You should have done that like twenty times. It would have taken you just forty minutes, right?” “It’s not that simple, Kemper. You see, for one thing, the time we spent in the past is still elapsed time. I started this when I was thirty-five, and if I go back, only two minutes will have passed in 2011, but I’ll still be forty. If something goes wrong now, I’d have to go back and do all of it again from 1958 on. I don’t think I can handle that.” “I hadn’t thought about that. I guess it’s like playing a video game with a really crappy system of save check points. The deeper you get into, the more you have to lose.” “Exactly, but it’s not just that. You see, the past does not want to be changed. If you try to revise something, it fights back. When we did our trial runs, it threw everything it could at us from car trouble to illness, and the bigger the event, the harder it tries to stop you. So doing a bunch of trial runs just isn’t very practical, Kemper.” “Summing up here: You’re an English teacher who was talked into trying to stop the JFK assassination via a time portal. You’ve spent years of your life doing this even though there’s clearly some very wonky elements to the resetting of the past when you go through and time itself seems to be working against you? And this seems like a good idea, Jake?” “Please don’t yell at me, Kemper. I did this with the best of intentions. It’s been very hard living like this, and the past seems to be trying to sabotage my life here now. I’m very tired and scared, and this is all coming to a head, and I’m not sure what’s going to happen …*sob*.” “Don’t cry. I’m sorry. It’s just…. This doesn’t seem like it was thought through very well, Jake. I mean, you seem like a nice guy. I’ll admit that it sounds like you have good intentions, but you know what the road to hell is paved with.” “I know, I know. But I’ve come too far to stop now.” “Yeah, I guess so. Good luck you poor bastard. Try not to break the space/time continuum.” ****************************************** Kemper’s Present Day Note About Stephen King and Kansas City Sports Errors (Or Are They?) The error where Jake thinks about the Dallas Texans someday becoming the Dallas Cowboys is actually in the book, but since it’s a first person account and Jake is definitely not a historical expert, it’s possible that King knew this and just meant for it to be Jake’s error.* (*Edit - Actually, I realized later on that even this doesn't make sense since the Cowboys and Texans were both formed in 1960. It was part of the rivalry between the NFL and old AFL. This was a big story in Dallas at the time and both teams did tons of promotions and advertising so it doesn't seem possible that Jake was somehow unaware of the existence of the Cowboys.) However, this isn’t the first time King has caused me to scratch my head with KC sports references. In The Dark Tower IV: Wizard and Glass, there is another oddity when the gunslingers are in an alternate version of Topeka, Kansas, that seems to be the one where King’s The Stand took place. There, they see a car with a bumper sticker that says Kansas City Monarchs instead of Kansas City Royals and this is supposed to be evidence that they’re in an alternate world. But the old Negro Leagues baseball team that had players like Satchel Paige was called the Monarchs, and you can still purchase Monarchs merchandise in KC today. (I’ve got a spiffy Monarchs hat I got at the Negro Leagues Baseball Museum.) These wouldn’t bother me so much if I thought for sure that they were just errors, but the fact that they’ve both involved a possibly unreliable narrator or hopping to alternate worlds leaves King some wiggle room that bugs me for some reason. Are they mistakes or is King just being cute? I. DON’T. KNOW. And that makes me nuts. Kemper’s Spoilerific Present Day Note About the Ending of 11/22/63 (view spoiler)[ You can tell from my little flight of fancy above that I’m not a big believer of the notion that JFK was some kind of awesome president who would have saved the country from Vietnam and the chaos of the ‘60s. When I heard the concept of this book, I worried that King was succumbing to a bad case of baby boomer JFKitis, and the early parts of the book seem to have confirmed this. Also, while I enjoyed the rabbit hole and reset the timeline rules, I thought the idea that you could bring objects back but they’d still exist in the reset past as a cheat and the kind of internal inconsistency that King allows in his work whenever it’s convenient to the story. I was greatly relieved that by the end of this book, King seemed to have set aside the rose colored JFK glasses and made that oddity about the objects part of a paradox instead of just a plot contrivance. (hide spoiler)] ...more |
Notes are private!
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1
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Nov 18, 2011
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Dec 02, 2011
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Nov 18, 2011
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Hardcover
| ||||||||||||||
| 030788743X
| 9780307887436
| 030788743X
| 4.23
| 1,205,870
| Aug 16, 2011
| Aug 16, 2011
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did not like it
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I originally gave this book 3 stars as harmless lightweight fun, but my opinion of it declined as time went by. Then after reading Armada I fully real
I originally gave this book 3 stars as harmless lightweight fun, but my opinion of it declined as time went by. Then after reading Armada I fully realized what a talentless one-trick hack that Cline really is so I changed this rating. Plus, his outraged hardcore fans kept coming on here and telling me that I missed the point since I didn't give it 5 stars so I might as well give them something to really be mad about. If you're one of those Cline fans who wants to whine about it in the comments I will just delete it and block you. Adventures in Time Mowing After my laptop fused to my lawn mower due to a freak lightning strike, I discovered that I could use it to travel through time. “Wow, where’d you come from?” “I’m from 2011. Got a time mower and decided to come to the future. I’ll spare you the full origin story. My name’s Kemper.” “I’m Wade Watts. Welcome to 2044.” “Thanks. I gotta say, things are looking kind of grim around here. Are those mobile homes stacked up like hillbilly skyscrapers?” “Yeah, I live in one of them. We’ve had a lot of problems once the cheap fossil fuels started running out. Life kinda sucks ass these days. Fortunately, we’ve got the OASIS.” “What’s that?” “It’s this virtual reality that’s kind of a combination of the Internet and the biggest MMORPG ever made. Here put this on, and I’ll show you.” “Hey, this is pretty sweet, Wade. But what’s with all this old stuff here in your virtual room. It looks like the ‘80s vomited in here.” “Oh, it’s part of my research for the contest. See the guy who invented the OASIS was this old nerd named James Halliday. He left an Easter egg hidden somewhere in the OASIS and whoever finds it wins the prize. He was totally obsessed with the ‘80s and nerdly stuff like computers, sci-fi, cartoons, movies, comics and video games. He left three keys to three gates hidden in here, and the clues have to be stuff that he loved. So a lot of people like me have to know all about the '80s to hunt for the egg." “How long has this been going on?” “For years now. Nobody has found the first key yet.” “And you what? Watch movies from the ‘80s? Listen to the music? Read his favorite books? Play old video games?” “It‘s even bigger than that. Because of the contest, the entire world is obsessed with the ‘80s. The clothes and hairstyles are considered cool again.” “Really? Well, I gotta get the hell out of here then. Thanks for showing me this, Wade. How do I log out?” “You’re leaving already? Don’t you want to…Oh, my god! You said you were from 2011? And you’re in your 40s, right?” “Well, just barely…” “So you actually lived through the ‘80s?” “Afraid so. High school class of 1988.” “That’s awesome! You gotta tell me all about it, Kemper.” “Kid, why would you want to hear about that? You’re sitting here with enough computer power to download everything from the collected works of Shakespeare to the entire run of The Wire and you want to hear about the ’80s? Just for a contest?” “I love the ’80s. It was the coolest time ever!” “Uh, not really. In fact, I think the ’90s beat the shit out of them. That not worrying about the Cold War thing was a relief and the music was a lot better. Plus we got to wear flannel. That was fun.” “But… you got to play the old video games in the actual arcades, and you saw the first generation of home computers come out. Plus, music videos and John Hughes movies and Rubik’s Cubes and Michael Jackson’s Thriller album and….” “Yeah, Wade. I lived through it all. I remember when MTV played music videos and when Eddie Murphy was funny. But you’re making me sad, kid.” “Why?” “Lemme tell you a story, Wade. About ten years after I got out of high school, an old buddy I had stayed in touch with had a birthday bash and invited a bunch of us that used to run around together. So we’re at his house drinking and playing cards just like the old days and catching up and playing ‘Remember when?”. It was a lot of fun, but we’d been listening to hair metal and classic rock all night, and at one point, I was flipping through the CD’s.” “Actual CD’s! Not downloads?” “Hell, I’m so old even my post-high school stories are dated now. Yes, Wade, real CD’s. Anyhow, I found a new Foo Fighters album, and I put it in. And this one guy made a face and asked me why I had taken the Guns-n-Roses out. And I said something like the nostalgia had been fun but I needed something from that decade. Being completely serious he said that he didn’t know how I could listen to that stuff, and that he still listened to the same exact music we did in high school. He had just replaced his old cassettes with CD’s. The guy had completely managed to miss grunge and was perfectly happy with the same play list in 1998 that he’d been listening to in 1988. And that was one of the saddest things I ever heard, Wade.” “But maybe he just really liked that stuff.” “I liked it too, once upon a time. And I can still belt out a pretty good version of Relax when Frankie Goes to Hollywood comes on the radio, but it was a certain time and place. Now it’s done. I find it depressing that someone of Gen X would want to be stuck there and never moved on to anything new. But it got worse after that, Wade. Because we got older and then the media started catering to us by going for nostalgia trips on everything from trying to remake the Knight Rider TV show to shitty movies like The Transformers and G.I. Joe to the goddamn Smurfs. I’m tired of it in 2011, Wade. I don’t want a new Indiana Jones movie, I want the NEXT Indiana Jones. But no one is working on that because all of us got obsessed with regurgitating our childhoods over and over.” “That is kind of sad, Kemper.” “What’s even sadder is seeing it happen to a generation that didn’t even live through it. When I was a teenager, I got sick to death of baby boomer nostalgia and there’d be these kids my age who tried to be like damn dirty hippies by wearing tie-dye shirts and going to listen to Grateful Dead tribute bands. They were nostalgic for an era that wasn’t even theirs, and I always thought it was a waste. Don’t be like that, Wade. You seem like a nice kid. Don’t sit here watching Family Ties reruns and playing Space Invaders and making jokes about Ewoks. That was then. This is now. It’s your time and you should be out there trying to find the stuff that will become part of your own memories of growing up, not rehashing ours.” “Gee, Kemper. That’s a really good point. You’ve opened my eyes. Thanks a lot.” “You’re welcome, Wade. By the way, what the hell was this prize that was so good that it got the entire world doing the safety dance again?” “Oh, the winner gets the controlling interest in Halliday’s company and his personal fortune which is about $240 billion dollars.” “Did you say $240 billion? Dollars?” “Yes, so how about we log off. Maybe I’ll take a walk and see if I can find this girl I like. I’ve been…” “Screw that. Fire this rig up, Wade. Put on some Def Leppard and find me a pair of acid washed jeans and some high top Reeboks. Let’s start looking for clues. For $240 billion I’ll live through the ‘80s again.” ************************************************** I didn’t actually hate this book. It did a lot of very clever stuff regarding an entire virtual universe. And for a member of Gen X, it was a fast and fun romp down memory lane. It was kind of like Snow Crash meets the Scott Pilgrim Vs. The World movie. But I’ve got a personal pet peeve against people trying to live in the past and since this book is nostalgia porn*, the basic premise did rub me the wrong way. The idea that the kids of the 2040s are just watching episodes of ‘80s TV shows and playing Donkey Kong really kind of depressed me. *I stole that phrase from Flannery’s review. Sorry, Flannery! It was just too good. I might have been able to get past it a little easier if at least one of the kids said something like, “Jesus, I hate this ‘80s bullshit. I can’t wait until his freakin’ contest is over so I can live in the here and now.” But instead all of them treat it like it’s the greatest entertainment ever. So even though a few post ’80s things like Firefly or the Lord of the Rings movies get mentioned, we’re supposed to believe that nerd pop culture reached a zenith in the ’80s and nothing worth geek obsession happened between 1990 and 2040? Sorry, but that seems kind of unlikely and the kind of wishful thinking that an aging Gen Xer would write as he pines for his glory days. ...more |
Notes are private!
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1
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Aug 20, 2011
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Aug 25, 2011
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Aug 20, 2011
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Hardcover
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| 0399156305
| 9780399156304
| 0399156305
| 3.43
| 556
| Apr 01, 2010
| Apr 15, 2010
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liked it
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Adventures in Time Mowing After my laptop fused to my lawn mower after a freak lightning strike, I discovered that I could use it to travel through t Adventures in Time Mowing After my laptop fused to my lawn mower after a freak lightning strike, I discovered that I could use it to travel through time. “Let’s see, I got the car all gassed. I’ve loaded up the guns and ammo. Here’s the bag of money. All I need to do is grab a bottle of whiskey, and I’ll…..Holy shit! Where did you come from?” “Relax, George. My name’s Kemper. I’m from the future. Time mower, travel through history, blah, blah, blah.” “How did you know my name?” “Everybody knows George “Machine Gun” Kelly in the future.” “Really?” “Nah, not really. I mean, most people have heard the name but no one really knows your story like they do John Dillinger or Clyde from Bonnie & Clyde. Maybe if you would have died bloody like them you’d be better known.” “What are you talking about? They're all still alive.” “For the moment. Here‘s a tip. Never go to the movies with Dillinger or take a car ride with Bonnie and Clyde.” “What are you doing here?” “Glad you asked, George. I’m here for the money.” “What money?” “Oh, let’s not play games now, George. I’m talking about the $200,000 you got in that bag after kidnapping that oil man from his house in Oklahoma.” “How do you know about that?” “Wow. You just aren’t getting this future concept. Try to keep up with me, George. Your whole life is ancient history to me. I’ve read all about you, including this little cluster fuck you just pulled with the kidnapping.” “Cluster fuck? We just made two hundred gees, mister!” “Yeah, and what have you done with it? You and your wife have run all over the Midwest like a couple of chickens with their heads cut off while you’re letting gangster friends of yours cut themselves a slice of the pie. Meanwhile, the feds have arrested most of your wife’s family who helped you. Damn, George, if you had a brain in your head, you would have been on a boat out of the country with the money weeks ago. It’s the 1930’s, how hard could it have been to disappear with a fortune?” “So you think I should just give you the money?” “Why not? Even in my time, $200,000 is a nice chunk of change. And trust me, you won’t need any money where you going. Wouldn‘t you rather give it to someone like me rather than letting the feds get it back or have the other gangsters steal it from you?” “Well, I gotta say that I see your point, Kemper. We don’t know what the hell we’re doing, but if you’re from the future and know all about me like you said, then I assume you know about my wife, too?” “Oh, crap.” “Yeah, I’ll give you the money if you want, but then you gotta deal with Kathryn. And she is an incredible ball buster. I don’t care if you can take your time doohickey to the end of the world, she will track you down for that money.” “You know what? Let’s just forget the whole thing, George.” ************************************************* This is a mash-up of historical fiction, crime story and character study beginning with the Kansas City Massacre and going through a kidnapping carried out by Machine Gun Kelly which at the time was the largest ransom paid in US history. However, Kelly and his fame-obsessed shrew of a wife are relentlessly pursued by a former Texas ranger who is an agent for J. Edgar Hoover’s new Bureau of Investigation. There’s also several other gangsters and assorted hillbillies in the mix. I picked this up because Ace Atkins was recently hired by Robert B. Parker’s heirs to continue the Spenser series. After reading this, I’m interested to see what Atkins will do with it. He’s got a style similar to RBP’s, and it seems like his skill in character building could add something a series that’s long past its prime. Atkins did a nice job here of turning a real true crime story into a peek inside the heads of the cops, gangsters and victim. Fans of stories about the Depression-era gangsters would probably enjoy this. ...more |
Notes are private!
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1
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Jun 02, 2011
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Jun 11, 2011
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Jun 02, 2011
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Hardcover
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| 0312428235
| 9780312428235
| 0312428235
| 3.86
| 3,633
| Mar 18, 2008
| Feb 03, 2009
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really liked it
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America 1954 “Howdy there stranger. I’m Chester.” “Hey, Chester. I’m Kemper.” “If you don’t mind me saying so, Kemper, your clothes look kind of odd.” “We America 1954 “Howdy there stranger. I’m Chester.” “Hey, Chester. I’m Kemper.” “If you don’t mind me saying so, Kemper, your clothes look kind of odd.” “Well, you’re certainly styling in your overalls. I’ll tell you a secret, Chester. I’m from the future. The year 2011.” “Son, have you been drinking?” “Well, yeah. But I’m not lying. I know it’s crazy, but I’ve got a time machine. A time mower, actually. It’s a long story. I haven’t used it lately after a bad experience running into some absolute morons during the Blitz in England, but I thought I’d give it another try. So I dialed up the ‘50s, and here I am.” “Uh huh. So if you’re from 2011, who’s the president?” “Barack O….Oh, you know what, Chester. If I told you that, you’d never believe me. Plus, there’s a big chance you might have a complete shit fit so we’ll file that under secrets of the future and move on.” “Well, whatever stranger. I think you’re a little crazy, but who am I to judge? I spend every night dreaming that I’m bayoneting Germans at Bastogne again.” “Uh….OK. So anyhow…. What’s going on here, Chester? What’s with all the gasoline? And what’s in those boxes?” “Comic books.” Comic books? I love comic books! I’ve got tons of them from the ‘70s through the ‘90s and graphic novels, too. Oh, wow! Check these out! Old Batman and Supermans….There’s some of the pulp crime ones… Oh shit! There’s a ton of the old EC horror comics… This is great! Hey, why are these all boxed up out….Jesus, Chester! Why the hell are you pointing that shotgun at me?” “First you show up here talking about how you’re from the future? Then you tell me that you like comic books? What kind of sick bastard are you? You’re like Hitler! Or are you a damn commie?” “Did you just ask me if I’m a commie? That’s as quaint as one of my grandma’s quilts, Chester.” “Shut up! I don’t know where you’re from, but around here, no decent person will admit liking comic books. Everyone knows that they’re filthy rags just designed by perverts to turn kids into juvenile delinquents. Hell, comic books are worse than Hitler! And you sit there and say you like them? You’re a grown man. Why would any adult read comics? As soon as the bus shows up with the kids from the school, we’re going to have a bonfire.” “Oh, come on, Chester. You can’t burn them. That’s crazy. Comics don’t make kids into criminals. I’ve read thousands of them, and I’m a respectable member of society.” “You’re out here talking about time machines and presidents named Barack. You’re obviously deranged. That‘s why good Americans are going to burn all the comics we can, and we‘re going to make the politicians pass laws to outlaw them. I‘m not going to let any of these kids turn into Hitler.” “Damn, Chester, you bring up Hitler more than Glenn Beck.” “Who’s Glenn Beck?” “Just this asshat I’m going to keep from being born on my way back to 2011.” “Well, I don’t know about this Beck, but you stand right there and don’t cause no problems.” “You can't seriously be considering burning books. That’s what the Nazis did. You fought the Nazis so you don’t want to be like them, do you?” “It’s completely different. These are just comic books. Not real books.” “OK, I’ll admit that there’s a lot of lurid trash here, Chester, but this is the early stages of a great art form. You can’t just burn them because you don’t like them.” “We gotta protect the kids.” “Oh, come on. The claims that kids became criminals because of reading some comics is complete crap. All of it was done by half-assed opportunistic researchers and politicians. And then all you post-war conformists who were terrified of looking un-American jumped on the bandwagon and decided you could make kids good by getting rid of comics. As a matter of fact, you all have so terrified and hurt the comic industry already that they’re going to start their own self-censorship board, and it’ll be a thousand times more strict than what the movies or TV has to go through. It’ll stifle comics for decades. Hell, it nearly kills the industry.” “I don’t want to hear anymore of your crazy future talk. Now, I don’t want to scare the kids so I want you to leave before they get here. Go on.” “OK, but it’s just…Chester, where I come from, those comics are worth a fortune.” “Bullshit. They sold for a dime each.” “I know, but they’re really rare and valuable in the future. Probably because assholes burned so many of them…Sorry!…Put the gun down, please. Since you’re going to burn them anyhow, why not let me take a box?” “Nope. You’re already crazier than a shithouse rat. You don’t need any more bad influences.” ************************************************** This is a great account of a dark little corner of history that’s not well known outside of comic book fans. During the post-war years comics were at the height of their popularity but looked at with scorn by most of society. When some do-gooders decided that the wild stories were warping children’s minds, America collectively rose up and curb stomped the comic industry. Sadly, almost no one defended them on constitutional grounds or against the shaky anecdotal evidence about how kids were being harmed. Comics were low brow trash and no one would miss them. Except for the kids who read them and the hundreds of people who lost their careers when the industry was hobbled by censorship. Comic fans should read this to get a detailed view of the history and non-comic fans should read it to get an inside view of how mobs can be whipped into frenzies in the name of doing ’good’. But I guess that it was worth it since juvenile delinquency was wiped out in 1954 once the comic code was adopted. Oh, wait…. Well, maybe it’s the video games… ...more |
Notes are private!
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1
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Apr 06, 2011
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Apr 11, 2011
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Apr 06, 2011
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Paperback
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| 0553803190
| 9780553803198
| 0553803190
| 3.85
| 26,325
| Jan 28, 2010
| Feb 02, 2010
|
did not like it
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Warning: This review will be lengthy due to pure hatred. Did I ever tell you that I’ve got a time machine? There was a freak accident where my laptop a Warning: This review will be lengthy due to pure hatred. Did I ever tell you that I’ve got a time machine? There was a freak accident where my laptop and my lawn mower got fused together following a lightning strike, and now I can use it to travel in time. It’s a long story. Anyhow, when I have a chance, I take the occasional trip through history. Recently, I popped into London in 1940 during the Blitz to take a look around. It’s a fascinating time with England hanging on by its fingernails during nightly bombings and waiting for a German invasion that seemed certain. I was getting ready to return to 2010, and started firing up the time-mower when suddenly three people, two women and a man, ran up excitedly and started wildly shouting questions at me. “Are you from the retrieval team?” “Where is your drop?” “What took you so long?” After a few minutes they finally calmed down enough to introduce themselves. They were Polly, Eileen and Mike. They saw me with the time-mower and figured out I was from the future. They demanded to know from when. “My name’s Kemper. I’m from 2010,” I told them. “Oh, no,” Polly wailed. “You’re not from Oxford?” “Uh, no. I’m from Kansas,” I replied. “So you’re not a historian from 2060 like us?” Mike demanded. “Nope. You guys are from 2060? That’s incredible, what’s it like?” I asked. “Well, it used to be grand. We got assignments to go back and observe points in history by going undercover to live and work during these times,” Eileen said. “That sounds like it would be a really exciting adventure,” I said. “No, it’s awful,” Eileen said. “You see, something terrible has happened. We each had different assignments. I was working with evacuated children in the country, Mike was supposed to observe the ships returning from the rescue of the British army at Dunkirk, and Polly was going to work as a shop girl at one of the department stores.” “What happened?” “Well, first, my assignment was terrible. The English lady I worked for made us do all this extra war work while she wouldn’t lift a finger, and I had to deal with all these children. There was this brother and sister, Alf and Binnie, that were always getting into mischief and causing me problems. Then there was measles outbreak so I was quarantined for months with the kids so I was long overdue. When the quarantine finally lifted, my drop wasn’t working. You see, the drops are the spots where we can go back to Oxford in 2060,” Eileen said. “Yes, and my drop isn’t work either. I got a job at a department store, just as planned, but when I tried to check in, it isn’t working,” Polly said. “Is your drop not working?” I asked Mike. “We’re not sure. See, I was supposed to arrive in Dover, but there was slippage. That’s when we don’t arrive exactly when and where we were supposed to. So I ended up 30 miles away in this little village and three days late. A lot of stuff happened after I met Commodore Harold, and it was months before I got back to my drop, and now there are always people around it. They won’t open if anyone from this time frame can see it,” Mike said. “Who is Commodore Harold?” “He was this old man at the village. I was trying to get him to take me in his boat to Dover because I had already missed part of the evacuation. But he wouldn’t listen to me and kept insisting that he was going to Dunkirk. Then I fell asleep on his boat, and he took me there. Which was terrible because I probably changed history and now we’ll lose the war,” Mike said. Tears came out of the corners of his eyes. “We can’t change history,” Polly said. “Yes, we can. I did,” Mike cried. “You don’t know that,” Eileen said. “Yes, I do. It’s all my fault,” he said and sobbed harder. “Well, if you think you had it bad, I had a terrible time getting a black skirt,” Polly said. “A black skirt?” I asked in confusion. “Yes, shop girls must wear a black skirt and everything was confused at Oxford when we were leaving because of schedule changes so wardrobe could only get me a dark blue one. I got the job but the woman in charge would fire me if I didn’t get a black skirt. And I kept trying to get back to the drop so I could go back to Oxford and get one, but I kept getting delayed. When I finally got there, the drop wasn’t working. Plus, I couldn’t wrap the packages properly so I had to spend ever so much time practicing it,” Polly said. Her lip quivered slightly as she remembered the horror of wrapping packages. “Uh, didn’t they give you any money when you came to the past?” I asked. “Oh, yes. Tons of it,” Polly said. “And you were working in a department store?” I said. “Yes.” “So why didn’t you just buy a black skirt there instead of spending all that effort trying to time travel to go home and get one?” I said. Polly only looked at me blankly. “I had problems, too. I tried and tried to get out of the quarantine and sneak back to the drop, but Mr. Samuels locked the doors,” Eileen said. “Who is Mr. Samuels? A cop or doctor?” I asked. “No, just the old gardener at the estate,” she said. “I had a lot of bother getting a newspaper,” Mike volunteered. “A newspaper?” I asked. “Yes, I had to spend some time in a hospital, and I wanted to see the war news to see what I had changed. But the nurses thought it was making me too upset. So I had to pretend that I wanted to do the crosswords so they’d leave me the paper,” Mike said proudly. “OK, forget about the skirt, and the quarantine and the newspaper. Don’t you people have some kind of back-up plan if something went wrong and you couldn’t get to your drops?” I asked. “Yes, the retrieval teams!” they shouted in unison. “I was sure that you were with the retrieval team,” Polly said. “I’ve spent so many hours wondering what was keeping my retrieval team,” Eileen said. “I’m sure that my retrieval team hasn’t been able to locate me,” Mike said. “Where, oh where, could our retrieval teams be?” Polly said. “I thought Mike and Polly were my retrieval team when they found me,” Eileen said. “And I thought Mike was my retrieval team,” Polly said. “I know that you two are women and all that, but the next person to say ‘retrieval team’ is getting punched in the throat,” I said. “OK, so those retre…. Er, people were supposed to come and get you if something went wrong, but they haven’t shown. So what was your Plan B?” “Plan B?” Eileen said. “Yeah, for if something really went wrong and they couldn’t find you or whatever? Didn’t you have a pre-determined spot to meet out some time later? Or since all you people were running around this time, did they set up some kind of safe-house you could go to in case of emergency?” “That’s a good idea,” Polly said. “We’ll have to tell Mr. Dunworthy that we should do that after the retrieval team… OW!… takes us back,” Mike said. “So no plan other than just sitting around fretting and speculating about what happened? Since you’re worried that they can’t find you, have you put an ad in the paper or anything?” I asked “Oh, I checked the personals to see if the retrieval team..OW!..placed an ad trying to find us. I thought about putting an ad in so that they could find me, but haven’t done it yet,” Mike said proudly. “Uh.. You guys do research in the future before you go into the past, right?” “Of course.” Polly said. “That would include reading newspapers?” “Yes, we get a lot of information from newspapers,” Eileen said. “And it’s never occurred to any of you that if you put a message in that says something like, ‘Hey, Oxford 2060, come pick me up at noon outside Buckingham Palace on Oct. 1?’ that they might see it and meet you there then?” I asked. “That’s another good idea,” Eileen said. “You’ve got a knack for this, Kemper.” “Are you kidding me? You’re goddamn time travelers, and you never thought of doing that? Or leaving a letter with a lawyer for delivery to Oxford in 2060? Haven’t you ever seen the Back to the Future movies? Or that episode of Quantum Leap where Sam and Al switched places?” I said. “Well, I’m not sure that it’s a matter of Oxford not being able to find us. I think something went wrong and that they can’t come back for some reason,” Polly said. “It’s my fault!” Mike shrieked. “Oh, do shut up,” Polly snapped. “Even before we left, something was going on. Mr. Dunworthy was changing assignments like mad, and they were having a terrible time finding drop sites. And they were very worried about us reporting any slippage.” “That’s true,” Mike said. “Mr. Dunworthy changed my assignment from Pearl Harbor to Dunkirk so I had almost no time to prepare. And Polly couldn’t get the right clothes, and Eileen had a hard time getting the driving lessons she needed.” “So this Mr. Dunworthy is a douche bag that sends you guys into the past with no preparation?” I said. “Oh, no! He cares about us ever so much. He sets very strict rules about where we can live and work in the past, and if there’s so much of a hint of danger, he’ll pull us right off an assignment. He’d send a retrieval team …OW!…in a second if he knew we were in trouble,” Eileen said confidently. I sighed and rubbed my temples for a couple of minutes. Then I took a deep breath. “Let me see, I’ve got this straight. You’re all historians from 2060 at Oxford who work for a guy named Dunworthy who is supposedly very strict about your safety. Yet, he did a last minute change of schedule with no explanation that left people going to England in 1940 unprepared and ill-equipped for the assignment. You were stupid enough to come anyhow, and you’re all seemingly incapable of dealing with anything as mundane as unruly children or overbearing people. Plus, the simplest task like obtaining a black skirt or a newspaper turns into a major undertaking for you. Even outwitting a senile boat captain or a gardner was beyond your abilities. Now something has gone wrong, and your only plan is to sit around whining about your ‘retrieval teams’. Is that about it?” I said. “Yes, that’s about the size of it,” Mike said. “Please, Kemper. We really need your help,” Polly said. “Well, you all may be morons, but it’s your lucky day because a guy with a time-mower showed up. I guess I can’t leave you here,” I said. “That’s wonderful! So you’ll take a message to Oxford?” Eileen said. “A message?” I asked. “Yes. We’ll write a message to Mr. Dunworthy and you can take it to him. Then he’ll send a retrieval team…OW!…back for us,” Polly said. They just kept grinning and smiling at me as I looked at them in disbelief. “Guy with a working time machine standing right here,” I said slowly. They nodded. “And all you want me to do is to take a message to the future for you?” They nodded. “Not, you know, just take you to Oxford in 2060?” “Oh, no,” Mike said. “What if we left and the retrieval team…OW!…shows up?” “Changed my mind. Not doing shit for you. Sit here and wait. Hopefully, the Germans will drop a bomb on your stupid, wussy, worthless, whining asses. See ya in hell,” I said as I fired up the time-mower and started to fade away. The last thing I heard before leaving 1940 was, “When do you think the retrieval team will arrive?” In Summary of a Shitty Book I have never been subjected to such painful characters in my life. All three of the major players are exactly the same. Almost the entire book is their inner dialogues which consist solely of fretting about stupid trivial crap, wild speculation that turns out to be completely wrong and repeatedly asking, “Oh, when will the retrieval team arrive?” You’d think that time travelers should be hardy adventurers with the ability to improvise and adapt to problems. These dumbasses can’t complete the simplest of tasks without it becoming a story of epic proportions. Seriously, the first chapter of this book is a guy trying to find Dunworthy at Oxford and having all these internal discussions with himself about where he might be, where he should look for him, what his secretary will say, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, someone please shoot me. The rest of the book consists of characters doing pretty much the same thing. Even worse, this is the first of two books so even after reading all this drivel, you don’t get any resolution to the story. When I’m on my deathbed, I’ll be cursing the name of Connie Willis for writing this piece of shit and tricking me into wasting precious hours of my life. ...more |
Notes are private!
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1
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Oct 20, 2010
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not set
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Oct 20, 2010
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Hardcover
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