cattlestar britannica.

Friend Mark and I have been tossing around a few concepts for a new SF series called “Cattlestar Britannica.”  The story centers on the titular warship, sole survivor of a devastating Cylon attack on the Twelve Colonies, and her crew’s adventures as she guides a rag-tag fleet of civilian ships to a new home.

As a Sunday treat, I’ll share a preview with you: the episode guide for Season One.

• Episode 1:  The Britannica’s flight to safety is almost foiled at the start when Commander Blairdama apologizes to the attacking Cylon task force for causing offense, and offers the Britannica as restitution. 
• Episode 2:  Ragnar Anchorage refuses to issue much-needed munitions for the Britannica’s guns, as the Office of Health & Safety has determined that weapons are dangerous, and someone could get hurt.
• Episode 3:  Commander Blairdama issues an order mandating five years in the brig for anyone caught onboard the Britannica with a sidearm or a pocket knife.
• Episode 4:  The Cattlestar’s security detachment accidentally shoots 382 crew members on suspicion of being Cylon infiltrators.
• Episode 5:  When Britannica gets boarded by a party of Centurions, the ship’s XO takes desperate measures to hold off the foe:  security cameras and ID checks at every corridor intersection.
• Episode 6:  Cattlestar Britannica receives upgrades–speed bumps in the launch tubes, and roundabouts installed on the flight deck.  When a massive Cylon raid bears down on the Cattlestar, no Vipers can be launched, because all the pilots are in the brig for insufficient profile on their landing skids, or exceeding the speed limit in the launch tubes.
• Episode 7:  Tactical officer Lt. Gaeta gets thrown in the brig for hate speech—referring to incoming Cylons  as “hostile raiders.”
• Episode 8:  Doc Cottle, the ship’s only qualified physician, blows his brains out due to the stress put on him by the “free health care for all” mandate.  An investigation finds that the doctor hadn’t slept since the beginning of the Cylon attack, two months prior.
• Episode 9: A Cylon infiltrator blows himself up on the Britannica, killing twenty-six Marines and civilians.  Commander Blairdama reacts by offering the Cylons a seat on the Quorum of Twelve, and the entire starboard flight pod to set up their own society and justice system.  The Brittanica’s spiritual leaders promptly offer to enforce Cylon religious law throughout the rag-tag fleet.
• Episode 10:  An empty cartridge case is found in the pilot ready room.  Flight ops come to a standstill as the Britannica’s bomb squad is out of action with food poisoning.
• Episode 11:  A budding mutiny is swiftly suppressed by the judicious issuance of Anti-Social Behaviour Orders.
• Episode 12:  A Cylon defector asks for asylum on the Britannica, but ends up committing suicide after sampling the food in the Cattlestar’s mess hall.
• Episode 13:  A CAP flight of Vipers is ambushed by a superior Cylon force.  Hotshot pilot Starbuck is brought up on charges of Firing Back At The Enemy.
• Episode 14:  Some of the Britannica’s mechanics actually manage to fix a broken Viper, and are promptly fired for anticompetitive practices and for making the other repair crews "look bad and feel invalidated".
• Episode 15:  Starbuck manages to capture a Cylon raider, but the craft is scrapped after it can’t be converted to comply with Colonial Fleet safety regulations and right-side steering.  Starbuck is charged with theft.
• Episode 16:  Genius scientist Dr. Baltar comes up with a fail-proof Cylon Detector when he discovers that Cylons have immaculate dental health.

That’s the schedule for Season One of “Cattlestar Britannica”.  Maybe we’ll come up with enough ideas for me to share the episode guide for Season Two later…

she flew to albuquerque, with her left blinker on all the way.

I’m an aviation nut and gadget hound, but even I think that this is a terrible idea:

The Terrafugia Transition, the world’s first car/plane hybrid.

Look, the carnage on our streets should give you a hint why it’s not smart to have the same idiots taking to the sky as well.  I mean, the third or fourth time some Granny confuses the throttle with the flaps, and dive-bombs into the underwear aisle at WalMart at 400 knots, most people will realize that adding another dimension to the afternoon traffic derby only adds more ways to die in fiery collisions…

stolen honor.

Here’s something that ticks me off beyond reasonable levels:

Douchebags wearing military uniforms and medals they’ve never earned, pretending they did.

This is different from the Glenn Beck thing, where someone uses a uniform as a prop.  That was annoying, but not nearly as offensive as this particular case, because Glenn Beck never put on that uniform claiming to be an Unteroffizier in the German Army.  No, the douchebag featured in this article represented himself not only as a Marine Corps Gunnery Sergeant, but also as a recipient of the Navy Cross, the second-highest decoration that can be bestowed on a sailor or Marine after the Medal of Honor.

There’s a way to earn that uniform, and that’s by going to a Marine Corps recruiter, and taking the hard road that goes through Parris Island or San Diego MCRD.  There’s a way to attain that rank, and that’s by serving with distinction and working your way up the ranks as a non-commissioned officer.  There’s a way to get that Navy Cross, and that’s by performing an action that involves extreme gallantry and risk of life, beyond the call of duty, performed in combat with an enemy force.  There’s a way to get that Purple Heart, and that’s by shedding blood and receiving wounds for your country in combat.

Going to an Army/Navy shop and paying money for a USMC dress uniform and a handful of ribbons is not it.

What is it with people who try to leech honor off the people who earned it legitimately?  The medals on that dorkwad’s chest are just ribbons without the achievement behind them.  A Navy Cross costs maybe $5 to manufacture.  I could make up a trophy for any achievement you’d like, and hand it to you to put on your mantelpiece, but if you have any sense of honor at all, that trophy won’t mean a damn thing to you, because you know that you didn’t do anything to earn it.

A possible year in jail isn’t much of a punishment for that kind of douchebaggery.  A more fitting punishment would be to let him wear that uniform…and then drop him in the middle of Parris Island or Camp Lejeune, after briefing every Marine present on the precise nature of that gentleman’s transgressions.

Update: Turns out he got busted because he showed up at his 20-year HS reunion in USMC dress blues with Lieutenant Colonel oak leaves.  One of his former classmates is a genuine Navy Lt. Commander.  She saw the Navy Cross on his chest, and figured he was playing dress-up, since that particular award is a rare honor.  So she asked the “Lieutenant Colonel” to pose for a picture with her, which he gladly did.  Then she sent the picture to the Feds.

The moral of the story: Don’t claim uniform, rank, and medals you didn’t earn…and if you must try to score some tail at your reunion with a store-bought uniform, trey not to overcook it.  When you show up with more ribbons on your chest than Chesty Puller, and top your fruit salad with a medal whose recipients in the last decade can be counted on both hands with fingers left over, you may just arouse the suspicions of any legitimate vets who may be present.

Update the Second:  Here’s the picture the tool was sending around online to back up his claims of combat service in Iraq and Afghanistan:

The chevrons on his sleeves are that of a Master Gunnery Sergeant, which is the top of the enlisted rank ladder in the Corps.  A 39-year-old Master Gunny would be the youngest E-9 in the Corps, and one with the Navy Cross on his chest would be a Marine Corps legend.  The unrealistically high rank for a guy his age, combined with the astounding number of medals in his fruit salad would scream “poser” to any Marine fresh out of SOI, even without the Navy Cross that tripped this moron up in the end.

november eleventh.

To all you current and former soldiers, Marines, airmen, sailors, and Coasties out there:

Thank you.

a poll on free online content.

I have an informal poll for you this morning.

How do you feel about writers releasing their material online as "patronage-ware"? (That’s what I call it when someone puts up a story or novel without requiring payment for the download, while asking people to pay whatever they think their entertainment was worth to them.)

Have you/would you pay a writer directly after reading the whole book for free online, or do you refuse to pay for anything that doesn’t come on dead tree from Borders or Amazon.com?

I’m putting up an anonymous click poll to gauge the winds out there, but feel free to respond with a comment as well, if you have thoughts to share.  You have two votes.  If you participate, please choose one of the Pay/No Pay options, and then one of the “…and” answers on the purchase of the paper version.

(Note: I’m still very much going the traditional route to publication, but I’ve been thinking that the traditional way and the Doctorow method are not mutually exclusive.  In the past, I’ve purchased the paper versions of free-to-read ebooks I’ve found online–John Scalzi, Cherie Priest, and David Weber in particular–and I’m pretty sure that others would do the same.)

(Note the Second: This poll is anonymous, and n0body else can see how or if you voted, not even this humble scribe.)

maybe i should list it on the real estate market.

Check out what the little striped buggers built this summer:

It’s in a tree branch right above our garage, and it escaped my notice until yesterday, when I was mucking around behind the garage to re-string some invisible dog fence wire.  The nest is a bit bigger than a basketball.

Because of the cold, the previous inhabitants have vacated it, so I have no idea what species they were.  We have paper wasps under the eaves every summer, but Robin says that this is no paper wasp nest.  She’s guessing bald-faced hornets, or possibly yellowjackets.

Strangely enough, the wasps weren’t really a bother this year, despite the size of that colony right near the house.

you look kind of canadian, boy.

Our closest border with Canuckistan is about an hour north of us (the Derby Line/Stanstead I-91 crossing), and the second-closest one is two hours away in Vermont.

Imagine my mild surprise when, on the way back from town with the kids, I ended up in a U.S. Border patrol checkpoint right on I-89 outside Lebanon, NH, close to a hundred road miles from the international border.  They had set up shop across the southbound lanes of the Interstate, and every single vehicle had to stop for inspection.

As far as stops go, it wasn’t much of an annoyance.  The uniformed BP agent gave the van the once-over, presumably to check the plates out, and make sure the Grand Caravan wasn’t sitting low in the water from having a ton and a half of explosives in the back, or twenty-four stowaways from Saskatchewan.  Then he asked how I was doing today (thereby eliciting a verbal response by which to gauge accent and/or nervousness level), and peeked past me into the back, where the kids were sitting.  Then he asked if everyone in the car was a U.S. citizen.  I answered in the affirmative, we wished each other a nice day, and I was on my way.

The libertarian knee-jerk reaction would be “ZOMG checkpointz!!!”, and utter revulsion at once again being asked to justify oneself in front of the agents of the state.  The conservative/Daddy State response would be to be glad that the stalwart defenders of Old Glory and apple pie are making sure the Islamists won’t invade us while being poorly disguised with flap-eared hats and hockey jerseys.  The Liberal response would be to be annoyed at having one’s mellow harshed by The Man. (I’m guessing here, of course.  I’m sure there are Liberals who are pro-enforcement on the immigration issue, and conservatives who get the heebie-jeebies at being asked their citizenship status by a Fed.)

I wasn’t too terribly put out, I suppose.  I wasn’t asked to present papers, and I thought that the quick on-the-spot interview was as effective as time constraints and practicality allowed.  They were fishing for stuff that looked off, and we didn’t.  Yes, I do realize that there are people who take advantage of the fact that both our land borders with our neighbors are way too long to effectively seal.  (The Mexican and Canadian borders put together are close to eight thousand miles, and that doesn’t even take into account our coastlines.) I also recognize that border protection is actually a legit and proper function of Teh Fedz.

Still, it’s a little weird to get funneled into a BP checkpoint while going about one’s business a hundred road miles away from the border.  You’d figure that running checks in west-central NH takes manpower that could be better used at the actual border itself…

want. oh, yes. do want.

The latest thing on my “want” list:

That’s a Pelikan fountain pen, more specifically the M400 in the Special Edition “Brown Tortoise” pattern.

That right there is a writing instrument.  (For those curious about price: it’s just north of $200 from most Pelikan dealers.)

Pelikans are typical German engineering: conservatively styled, extremely well designed, and meticulously put together.  I have one Pelikan right now, the translucent blue M205, and that brown M400 Torty would look pretty sweet in the pen wrap next to it. 

Does a $200 fountain pen write any better than a $30 one, or even a $2 gel pen? Not necessarily.  Why, then, would anyone drop two c-notes on that ink stick? To answer that question, you’d have to figure out why people buy BMWs, for example.  Does a $50,000 Beamer get you to the grocery store any better than a $20,000 Toyota?  Maybe not—but if it was only about the end result, nobody would ever purchase cars with leather seats and real wood on the dash when cloth and plastic are available as alternatives for a third of the price. 

Writing with a pen like the one in the picture above may get you the same result as if you had used a $1 throwaway gel ink pen, but you wouldn’t get the tactile experience of that fine gold nib gliding across the paper, or the preparatory act of unscrewing the cap and posting it on the back of the pen (which kind of feels like you’re cracking your knuckles for the work ahead), or the attachment you form with a tool that stays with you through quarts of ink instead of ending up in a landfill once it’s empty.

The truth is that people are willing to pay extra for a superior user experience, and using a fine fountain pen over a throwaway ballpoint is much like driving a BMW instead of a spartan econobox.  Both will get you where you need to go, but only one makes you actually want to take it for a spin just for the joy of using it.

progressive, my ass.

When your home state hands out longer jail sentences for owning the wrong sort of sheet metal tube than for repeatedly molesting a young child, you have to start looking for a new name for your legal department, because “justice” it ain’t.

those wacky germans again.

When parking your vehicle without permission on the lot of a private company for five days in a row, blocking the spot for legitimate users, make sure the company in question isn’t one that specializes in building fences.

That’s a recent picture from Germany.  The company employees put a note on the car, asking the owner to move it off the private lot.  After a few days, they decided to do what they do best: build a fence.  Towing costs would have to be eaten by the company if they called a towing service to remove the car, so they decided to go the alternate route.  Since it’s private property, they are of course free to build a fence on it anywhere they want…