“The Earth is degenerating these days. Bribery and corruption abound. Children no longer mind their parents, every man wants to write a book, and it is evident that the end of the world is fast approaching.”
– Assyrian Stone Tablet, c.2800BC

The Y2K Bug infused the media with warnings of impending doom for the new millennium. Before that there was Nostrodamus’ prediction of catastrophe in July of 1999. Before that two Astronomers predicted the 1982 planetary alignment would cause catastrophic earthquakes and solar flares. Pat Robertson also predicted that the world would end in the fall of that same year.

The list goes on and on. As a civilization, we are fascinated by end times predictions. There is something fantastically romantic about the idea of a post-apocalyptic environment, whether you are one of the “chosen,” who will be whisked away into the arms of some deity, or one of the survivalists, left to rebuild the world your way. Romanticizing the end times is very popular indulgence, as we find in the success of books like the “Left Behind” series, Stephen King’s “The Stand,” and films like “Independence Day,” the “Mad Max” films, “The Terminator,” and “The Matrix.”

I must confess that I have indulged in post-apocalypse fantasizing. In the real world where the only two remaining frontiers, the ocean and space, require incredible monetary investments for only the most elite to explore, the best route to adventure is for the “frontier” to take the Earth back. Let civilization crumble under a super-virus or nuclear holocaust, freeing up space for the survivors to pursue survival. I find the idea of running around a desolate landscape with a shotgun, blowing away mutants, like Mad Max in “Thunderdome,” very appealing.

But then reality comes down oppressively. Try going just one day without eating. Try sleeping outside in the middle of February. Try starting a fire with two sticks of wood. Try figuring out what your chances are of surviving any apocalypse scenario that would wipe out most human life. What makes us think we’ll be in that small-percentage of survivors? What quality of life then, if our teeth and hair are falling out and we are covered in sores from radiation poisoning? Why is that little bit of realism lacking in the epic battles between humans and robots in the “Terminator” and “Matrix” movies?

What about the Abraham religions? Judaism, Christianity, and Islam all look forward to that great day prophesied in their various books, when the Messiah will return and carry them away to heaven, while life is turned into absolute misery for everyone left behind as the Antichrist reigns.

Of course, the problem with this belief in a religion’s exceptionalism completely ignores the exceptionalism of all other religions. While there are some more liberalized versions of the Abraham Religions, most hold their distinct interpretation of the scripture as the only path to salvation. Many versions of Christianity believe that only a miniscule percentage of Jews will make it into heaven and no Muslims. Religious leaders, such as Pat Robertson, have preached that only a few versions of Christianity will qualify for salvation. With hundreds of religious sects claiming a monopoly on the one road to salvation, the chances of actually being saved when the apocalypse happens are quickly reduced to less than one percent.

Then there are all of the end-times predictions, where religious leaders draw interpretations of modern events into exhaustive metaphors to match the predictions of scriptures and thus fulfill the prophecies. Other religious leaders take a less cerebrally-taxing route and relay the signals they believe to recieve from the almighty directly. Interestingly enough, the Old Testament provides a pretty good methodology for determining if a “Prophet” is truly hearing the word of God:

“…when a prophet speaks in the name of the LORD, if the word does not come to pass or come true, that is a word which the LORD has not spoken; the prophet has spoken it presumptuously, you need not be afraid of him.”
Deuteronomy 18:22

Pretty simple huh? If what they say doesn’t come true, then they are not speaking the word of God. How empirical.

The Bible also tells us what to do with people who lie in the name of God:

“But the prophet who presumes to speak a word in my name which I have not commanded him to speak, or who speaks in the name of other gods, that same prophet shall die.”
Deuteronomy 18:20

This seems pretty harsh, and I’m certainly not going to advocate the execution of people who may simply be mistaken, but there are severely detrimental consequences to False Prophecy. In situations such as Jonestown, hundreds of Jim Jone’s followers were either murdered or committed suicide as a result of one man’s claim of hearing the word of God.

There are even worse ramifications as well. When a religion’s followers believe the end times are fast approaching, they percieve the Earth as merely a rest stop on the way to paradise. It becomes a condemned house, where responsibility to the community and stewardship of the property are no longer of consequence. Instead we can do with it as we like, wreck the place, destroy the environment, because the apocalypse lies just around the next bend and there will be no more future generations to curse our irresponsibility.

In his play “Waiting for Godot”, Samuel Beckett presents two characters waiting for someone who never comes. It is a tragic tale of false hope that lasts eternally. Waiting for the end of the world is like that, wasting the time we have here while yearning on a fantasy is a terrible tragedy. It is irresponsible to the present and forsakes our roles as stewards of this planet, preserving it for our offspring.

The world, our Earth, will end one day. Astronomers predict Asteroid 1950DA may collide with our planet on March 16^th, 2880. If this does not manifest, then the Earth’s water and atmosphere will be evaporated off the planet five billion years from now, when our sun expands into a red giant.

The problem with realistic predictions of the end times such as these is that they aren’t particularly romantic. No savior is predicted to come down from the heavens to whisk away its fortunate chosen. No apocalyptic wasteland will be left for survivalists to run around in fantasized superiority. There simply won’t be anything left of our little world, and if we don’t get our act together we’ll go down with it.

There are also the more uncertain methods of destruction, uncertain because we have the power to control them. Green House Gases could render the planet uninhabitable to human life. Pollution could poison us out of the biosphere. In the second half of the 20^th century we developed the power to kill the entire human race in a flash with the proliferation of nuclear arms.

Why not romanticize stewardship of the Earth? The shear effort of intelligence, foresight, honorability and integrity required to keep this planet and our civilization safe are Herculean. Why not romanticize that sort of heroism instead of wishing for some horrible catastrophe to make things even more difficult?

Want to see what survivalism is like? See the film Quest for Fire, about ancient cavemen seeking a spark to bring home for their tribe. It is what life without all our modern conveniences would really be like. It is a world of parasites, open sores, bad smells, matted hair, grunting and nibbling on leaves and grubs.

That is what life without civilization is like.

Further Reading:

Is Christianity anti-Environmental?

Seeing the film “Mystic River” in the Regal Cinema multiplex demonstrates the power of the theatrical exhibition over television’s presentation. With its much larger dimensions, the theater’s screen draws the audience into the film’s action to the exclusion of all else. This world creation through the theater’s visual superiority grows even more enhanced with its powerful multi-directional sound system, which immerses the audience in the auditory characteristics of Clint Eastwood’s world.

Most of the action takes place in overcast settings with dull gray overtones, so when the film switches to a nighttime setting or a brightly lit room, the contrast seems to come off the screen and into the theater. As the theater’s only light source, when the screen goes black, the theater also falls into darkness. The audience is drawn into the film’s shadows, joining the action to experience the film’s tenser moments with enhanced awareness.
Likewise, when the screen goes bright, as in the film’s police interrogation scenes, the theater becomes illuminated. The audience becomes suddenly aware of their own visibility in the theater, self-conscious. They vicariously experience what the suspect experiences under the harsh interrogation lighting and are able to identify with the character’s discomfort. The starkest example of this effect is when Jimmy shoots Dave and the screen goes completely white, enhancing the shock of the moment.

In addition to providing a singular, overriding light source, the increased screen dimensions add expansiveness to certain shots. The film’s many aerial views are all the more breathtaking because they are on a screen some twenty feet wide rather than the twenty-some inches of a home television set. The screen size also enhances the details of close shots. Facial expressions, prison tattoos, and peeling paint are all drawn into sharp focus for the audience’s examination. These small details draw us further into the filmmaker’s world.

While all of these visual aspects of the filmmaker’s world are enhanced through the large screen medium, the multi-directional sound system, which surrounds the audience also serves to immerse their senses. When Sean’s wife calls him, he notes that he can hear the Manhattan traffic in the background. When we cut to an extreme close up of her lips and the receiver, we can feel her standing at a pay phone alongside a busy street because we are suddenly surrounded with the sounds of traffic, although we cannot see it in the blurry background. This aspect of theatrical sound, which permeates the air, helps to complete the ambience of the world.

In overriding the audience’s two chief senses, the theatre intensifies the audience experience. With its expansive screen size and superior sound system, the theater immerses the audience in the filmmaker’s world, enhancing every detail of it and making it more sensational. Each day home theater systems attempt to mimic the theatrical effect, further emphasizing the effectiveness of the multiplex presentation.

In the films “Devil in a Blue Dress” and “Murder, My Sweet” the Hard-Boiled Detective protagonist encounters a menagerie of characters who are deceptive, dangerous, and powerful, all working either directly or indirectly to complicate his quest for the truth. The Floozy appears to help the Detective, while actually pursuing her own motives. The Mad Dog killer both complicates and assists the Detective with their psychotic actions. Meanwhile, the Wealthy Villain manipulates the characters from the shadows, appearing untouchable.

Early in the story, the hard-boiled detective, bereft of leads, must seek out the all-knowing Floozy. Like the old witch in the woods, who demands tribute for her fortune telling, the Floozy also requires payment. Mrs. Florian’s tongue loosens up when Philip provides her with liquor; Coretta James trades what she knows for sex with Easy. Appearing harmless on the surface, even weak for their vices, Floozies are actually quite cunning and deceptive. Coretta finds out what Easy knows about his job, and knows to hide what his contractor is looking for. Both Coretta and Mrs. Florian use their role as informant, not to help the detectives, but to throw them off the trail. Coretta gives Easy a bunk story about Daphne staying with a drug dealer, and Mrs. Florian provides Philip with a fake photograph.

Thrown into the carnival of characters, complicating things for the detective and adding tension to the action, the Mad Dog Killer runs loose within the story, the audience never knowing who they may kill next. The two films present radically different but equally disturbing and humorous versions of this character type. The towering muscle-man, Moose Malloy, who almost casually tosses men across a room and kills others with his bare hands, while intimidating, also presents comic relief with his oafish thinking and 500 pound gorilla penchant for getting his way. In contrast to Moose is Mouse, a small man with a hot temper and spastic trigger finger. In spite of the tension he evokes in the audience, we also find some dark humor in him as well, as when Easy finds Mouse has killed their captive, Mouse says, “If you didn’t want him killed why’d you leave him with me?”

Both versions of this character template assist and complicate the Detective’s mission. Moose kills Amthor before Phillip can question him, but helps Phillip get a taxi ride by intimidating the driver, possibly saving Phillip’s life. Mouse kills the bartender so that Easy has no one to give to the police, but also saves Easy’s life when he kills DeWitt Albright.

A character rarely scene but a name often mentioned in these films is that of the Wealthy Villain, the invisible hand manipulating characters to their means. Amthor resides in his penthouse, protected by a bodyguard and, through manipulation, Moose. Mayoral candidate Matthew Teran let’s his henchmen, led by Albright, do his bidding. The only time the audience meets him is in his shadowy limousine with an out of place child at his side. The Wealthy Villain is untouchable to the Detective, but apparently not invulnerable to their own corruption. Amthor dies by Moose’s hand, broken in half after the psychotic realized he was manipulated. Teran is exposed as a pederast in spite of his wealth and the trail of bodies his henchmen leave, forcing him to withdrawal from the mayoral race and probably sending him to prison as well.

The Hard-Boiled Detective navigates these three character types and more as he attempts to find the mystery’s reality. Like the deep shadows so prevalent in the noir genre, these characters hide the truth and provide a forbidding tension with their unpredictability. Their repeated use across different writers and directors illustrates their effectiveness in developing the plot and tone of Noir films.

Director Wu Tianming creates a real-life fantasy world as the stage for his film “King of the Masks”. With this backdrop, we follow the story of an eight-year old girl, Liu, as she struggles against tradition, adult authority, and the need to survive in her quest for a family. While her actions are grounded in real-world rules, her drama unfolds in a fantastic and mythological sense because of the world Tianming constructs.

A damp gray gloom hangs over the film’s set, creating a hard world, exposed to the elements, where a traveling performer must eke out a living from the kindness of strangers. Wrought with danger, this world includes an assortment of dangers including bullying soldiers, corrupt police forces, and roving abusive kidnappers. The protagonists must overcome these obsticals, which are physically stronger, with their wits. Granpa outsmarts the soldiers with a dazzling performance, Doggie uses her agility to escape her kidnappers, and Lady Bodivastta’s drama coerses the General with Doggie’s help.

These threats are made fantastic through the world’s prevalent mysticism and spirituality, enhanced through shrouding the scenery in a thick, obscuring mist. When Grandpa needs help finding a male heir, he purchases the statue of the Lady Bodihvastta so he may seek her grace. Later, when he finds himself very desperate, he seeks the insights of a wise woman who tells his fortune. A more practical movie would make her fortune ambiguous, but instead she tells Grandpa very specifically that he will have a boy and where to find him. Completing the fantasy, the old man miraculously finds a boy waiting on his boat with the name Tianci, translated “Heaven Sent”.

Yet this incident paranormal phenomenon actually serves to illstrate the film’s core theme of illusion. There are many cases of mistaken identities throughout the film. Grandpa mistakes Doggie for a boy, Doggie mistakes Master Liang for the goddess Lady Bodhisattva, Grandpa gets mistaken for a kidnapper after mistaking Tianci for a son sent from heaven, and the audience discovers Liu’s abusive “Daddy” was actually her kidnapper. Roles and identities in the film switch with the swiftness the King changes masks.

Thus we are presented with all the workings of a fable, filled with fantastic beings like the giant budha carved into the moutain, the changling in the form of Grandpa’s sleight of hand, fortuntelling oracles, and even an ephemeral goddess, who comes to Doggie’s rescue in the form of Master Liang in his Lady Bodhisattva costume. Throughout all of this, Doggie plays the hero, aquiring skills as a mythological hero aquires elixers and magical swords. The agility she aquires from Grandpa helps her escape her kidnappers with Tianci. The dramatic deception she learns from Grandpa and Liang help her win the General’s heart. In the end, family becomes her reward.

The first computer my family owned was the Timex/Sinclair 1000. It had 2K of RAM, 4K of ROM, and a tape-player drive. I played chess with it a few times. I would make my move, press “play” on the tape drive, and come back in an hour to see what the computer had done. The Sinclair ended up in the attic very quickly.

Then came the Atari 2600 and “Space Invaders”, “Asteroids”, and “Circus Circus”. These were games that had no ending. You simply kept playing to beat your previous best score. The graphics for these games consisted of big blocks sort of in the shape of stick figures and things, there was rarely more than two colors displayed on the screen.

The Apple IIe was the next thing my father brought home. It had arrow keys and a “cursor”. I wrote my first program on this computer:

10 PRINT “Ryan is Cool.”


20 GOTO 10

I later wrote a simple roleplaying game adventure that was text-based.

I created a little world for a single character (X) to wander around.

These were the days of text-based adventure games like Infocom’s “Zork” and “Leather Goddesses of Phobos”.

Then I got my own Commodore 64/128. The Apple was a much faster computer, but the Commodore had better graphics. It was also cheaper to buy accessories for the Commodore, like booster cartridges, joysticks, and modems. With my 300 baud modem, I was turned onto the world of Bulletin Board Systems and Computer Piracy. : )

The Bulletin Board Systems (BBSes) were the precursor to the internet. System’s Operators (Sysops) would setup a host computer that would answer the phone when computers would call. Their computer would then log you into their BBS and you would have a limited amount of time to either post messages, chat with the sysop, play games, or trade files.

Trading files took up most of my time online. Bytes of data were used as currency to deal with different sysops. You uploaded a file to a BBS and received credits for each byte of data. You could then spend those credits downloading files from their computer. I amassed a huge game collection for my Commodore this way.

I began renting games from a local gameshop and cracking them to trade to the local BBSes. My biggest claim to fame was cracking EAO’s “Mule” using a sector editor I found in the software “Happy Hacker 2.0”. Not a spectacular feat, but I received props from the notorious “Legion of Doom” for it. Of course, back then they gave props to anyone and everyone.

The Commodore BBSes faded away and were slowly replaced by IBM systems. Lacking the funds to upgrade my system, I dropped out of computers aside from playing with the IBM’s at my highschool until I got to college. In college, I reentered the BBS scene, but things were changing. The BBSes were teaming up to create a network of computers across country. Suddenly I was exchanging messages with users in California. It was interesting at first, but quickly became overwhelming. My posts were lost in stacks of hundreds. The personal nature of the BBSes was being lost, but this was only the beginning.

The final death toll for the BBSes was the Internet. Suddenly we had the entire world at our fingertips. These were the early days of the internet, when sites did not have images and Yahoo was simply a list of links. It was about to go mainstream as the entire world prepared to go online and geeks like myself have struggled to stay on top of its ever-changing playing field ever since.

Thursday September 18, 2003

10:30 AM – Doug calls to tell me I should move my car to the ODU parking lot. I debate this with my wife. ODU is a 15 minute walk away, I complain, and I might lose my hat.

10:45 AM – Mom calls me to tell me that the police have asked anyone not evacuating please write their name on their arm in permanent marker to make identifying their body easier.

11:00 AM – A large tree branch blocks our road. I run out to move it. Once finished, another falls behind me. I shrug and run back inside followed by the laughter of my neighbors.

11:45 AM – Power goes out right in the middle of watching “Soylent Green.” I discover my nextdoor neighbor’s tree has snapped at the base, damaging the side of their house and cutting the power line. Neighbor 3 houses down has a tree dropping branches onto his powerlines as well.

12:15 PM – Hear on the radio that a century old pier is gone. Not falling apart, or in shambles, it’s just not there anymore.

12:40 PM – I have noticed the cats no longer want to go outside. The frathouse across the street empties of all its members carrying innertubes, boogey boards, and beer toward the bay a few blocks down the street. Their names are “Brad,” “Josh,” “Derek”…

2:00 PM – I bravely venture outside for pictures of destruction, and quickly turn around and come back inside before getting two doors down the street.

3:45 PM – I cautiously venture out to remove the trees blocking my neighbor’s gate and door.

5:30 PM – I once again venture outside for pictures:

• I heard what I thought was a thunderclap, but was actually a tree breaking in half nearby, crashing to the street.
• The bay has swollen about 8 feet. All of the privately owned piers are submerged.
• Water was fountaining out of the sewer grates.
• Several Hurricane Parties were in progress. Beer’s were raised at me in salute.
• My neighbor saw me leave and decided to follow.
• Everywhere there are uprooted trees, downed powerlines, and a thick layer of debris plastering the street. I can smell natural gas in various places where uprooted trees pulled up and snapped the line.

6:15 PM – The tree smashed into my neighbor’s house has wedged itself down several feet deeper into the wood. Luckily, he was one of the few to evacuate.

7:00 PM – Mom calls to inform me the 14^th street pier has collapsed. It was the location of several nightclubs.

8:45 PM – Went out into the dark to look around. Didn’t get very far.

9:00 PM – Radio announces that Isabelle has passed, leaving the entire Tidewater area without electricity.

10:00 PM – Fireworks heard out in the dark in celebration.

Friday Sept 19th

7:00 AM – Survey of the damage finds a smashed Ford Explorer, on Argall Street has 10 uprooted trees. The smell of natural gas is everywhere. The gas company cannot reach some line breaks due to downed trees.

10:00 AM – Neighbors return from inland Chesapeake, where they say the Natural Gas plant is on fire and lit up the sky all night.

Saturday Sept 20th – Driving around Norfolk is like running as a rat through a maze. Highwater, downed trees, and construction crews abound.

Sunday Sept 21st – People are starting to get irratable, the lack of electricity is tiresome.

Friday Sept 26th – Electricity is restored. Life returns to normal. Property taxes will skyrocket. Public disposal fees will leap. Landscappers will be booked for the next year… but otherwise life returns to normal.

During.	After.
“Chance Favors the Prepared Mind.”	Proof of Foolishness.
Smash.	Argall Street.
More Argall Street.	Even More Argall Street.
Elsewhere.	There are easier ways to jack up a car.