It's grrrowing! or; why I love Doctor Who

Okay. First off, I'm not afraid to admit it: Sylvester McCoy is my favorite Doctor. That's one of the many, many things I love about Doctor Who: there's something for everybody. Don't like Tom Baker? Try David Tennant's portrayal! Didn't care for "Paradise Towers"? There's always "The Aztecs," or "Inferno," or... It's a show that can do anything, go anywhere, and it's not even constrained by having a set style or genre beyond the fuzzy label of sci-fi it gets slapped with because it happens to involve space-time travel.

The historicals are the most blatant examples of genre-bending, where the most alien thing in the story is the Doctor himself, and the most advanced technology is the TARDIS; but it's evident elsewhere, too. "The Horror of Fang Rock" is a play on the Agatha Christie-type murder mystery. "The Green Death," besides the emotionality added by the departure of a companion, also offers up political and environmental commentary. And lighter fare such as "Delta and the Bannermen" will satisfy those looking mainly for funny bits. (Admittedly, you have to be looking for humor though, or it'll just seem stupid, even farcical.)

If you can look beyond the wobbly sets and occasional overacting of the classic series, you'll be greatly rewarded with the collective genius of 40 years' worth of the clever people who worked on the show. I'm especially fond of how limited budgets and hardships led to some of the best ingenuity— need a cheap prop? How about a police box? It's science fiction, we can make it a dimensionally transcendental time machine! Oh noes, our lead actor is getting too old and frail... wait, he's an alien, he can renew himself! (Which eventually became regeneration, one of the most brilliant notions from a production standpoint ever.)

And not to be superficial, but you've got to admit the costumes are fun. With the Doctor pegged as alien, the designers had free license, and in later years, under John-Nathan Turner's influence, they really went nuts with it. Does make you wonder if he ever does his laundry, but oh well. It can go on the pile of mysteries about the (now) last Time Lord along with the Cartmel Masterplan and the revival it seems to have had with Steven Moffat. Now I don't love everything the Moff has done so far, but I do appreciate him bringing back the alien-ness and... well, the question marks, if you will allow me the small pun.

Which brings us, in a roundabout way, to the main reason for the post— my latest pet project, knitting a seventh Doctor question mark vest. I'm having to make up the pattern (oh, the joy) with all the attendant worries about sizing and such. That said, it is coming along nicely, and I'm very pleased with my colors (the yarn is Jamieson's Shetland Spindrift, lovely stuff and great choice for colorwork). This is the second project I've designed myself, and the other was only a hat. I could do without such tzuris, of course, but then I wouldn't end up with a gorgeous [beauty is in the eye of the beholder] sweater to wear my -ahem- preference on my sleeve.

Not that very many will pick up on it here— Tom Baker with his Scarf is the most recognizable Doctor in the US, thanks apparently to PBS. I know there are other young'uns out there with an affinity for the classic Who, though, because I got several sightings on my campus of a season 18 scarf, a fifth Doctor coat (!) and a question-mark brolly (!!!). Same person, I think, but still. Gives me hope for the generation yet.

Inadvertent gymnastics on street corners; and a rider regarding health care reform

They say one's life flashes before one's eyes. I only saw a flock of kindly faces and vaguely wondered what the fuss was about, but then, mine was hardly a near-death experience, though it might well have been. There were witnesses, whose brains did not, unlike my own, block out the details and could remember in vivid technicolor the ungraceful pirouette my body did before colliding with the windshield of the car. This entirely unintentional feat was described as a 360° gyration or some such nonsense, but I really have no business questioning it, since I cannot recall a single thing in between heading intrepidly across the street and dazedly hearing strangers contemplate calling 911. Even then, I didn't have a clue. I felt more or less all right, as though I might just get up and keep going after a bit of a rest. Little did I guess the actual ordeals in store.

The emergency room was abuzz with activity, each of us sequestered in our own corner of the hive, awaiting our turn under the hot lights of medical attention. It was a busy night, considering it was a Wednesday, and it seemed to be a night for car-on-pedestrian mishaps. The doctors left me to my own devices in order to stabilize a similar case, but that poor fellow was a hit-and-run. My driver, though, was felicitous to a fault and I have no qualms in saying the whole experience has reaffirmed my faith in humanity.

However, the past two weeks have served to underscore the desperate need for health care reform. The actual care I received was top quality, so far as I can tell, but if the driver's insurance wasn't paying for things, I can only imagine how we'd manage. The prices are phenomenally high for every single thing, and though my mother's insurance is a decent lot as these things go, even they might bat an eye at shelling out nearly a thousand dollars to have an X-ray looked at.

Speaking of which, bully for Congress passing the health care bill, as imperfect as it is. Of course, as an Anglophile and a progressive-bordering-on-socialist, I wouldn't mind a single-payer system; the public option showed some promise too, before it was shown the door. But still and all, there is a lot to like about the bill, and you've got to start somewhere. Evolution in all things...

Or devolution. The right wing seems finally to have gone completely off its nut. Bricks lobbed through windows, an anarchistic gateway drug to further violence; death threats, racist and homophobic slurs, really classy; and from the supposed adults, the elected representatives, undecorous outbursts and ambivalent statements condemning property damage while implying that the opposition actually deserved it.

A recent poll by NBC and the Wall Street Journal found that 50% of voters would replace every single member of Congress. I'd go along with that if Democrats retained their majority and we got lawmakers with some sense on both sides of the aisle. I'm not diametrically opposed to fiscal conservatives, and I don't mind policy debate. It just shouldn't fall so far into the weeds that we can't pull ourselves back up.

Radio waves dancing among the stars

The inaugural post. Funny how closely a blog with no posts mirrors a blank page; nature abhors a vacuum, and we humans try to fill the void ourselves with scribbles and doodles. In hopes of immortality, we send the products of our brainwaves out into the ether, and through serendipity they may connect with another intelligence. Like miniature versions of the planet on which we stand, we thespians and limners and dilettante bohemians are forever broadcasting to the skies. Success is fleeting, our audience for the most part small, but that hardly stops us trying.

Here, then, is the advent of my contribution to the hurly-burly.