Wow, let's talk about writing for a minute. What a nice change of pace, huh?

The latest are here: 44 and 45.

Man, second season's almost over. Time flies.

Well, that was interesting. I opened Warren Ellis' latest e-mail missive this morning to learn that his previously unnamed Marvel project is called NextWave.

For those of you who don't understand the significance of why that's weird, I shall illuminate you. Back in 2000, I had an idea for a comic book series that would combine the things I like best in comics: people with whacked out powers and real world situations. I took to heart the concept that no matter how much I wanted it, the Powers That Be were never going to let me into their sandbox, so I should just create my own. Pretty much what I've been doing ever since. So that project was called Next Wave.

Anyway, I didn't have an artist but still wanted to tell this story. So I began writing the scripts for the issues, letting your mind be the artist because as we all know, your mind is very, very cheap.

Then, four months in, the revelation about how to get my book-books in print came to light and I was faced with a choice: either keep up the non-comic comic book, which had no chance of ever getting "in print" without an artist and I had no way of making any money off of it otherwise, or go forward with Love Letters and Mystics and try to get books on people's shelves.

It was a shitty decision to have to make, because people dug on Next Wave and wanted to see what was coming next. But there just hasn't been time. Which sucks, because there literally is a hundred-issue comic book in my head with a beginning, long-ass middle, and then an end. And I just have no way of producing it right now. It's like my screenplay ideas–since I can't film them or otherwise produce them in a way that I can actually get in people's hands–they're useless to me.

Believe me, if I ever find an artist and a way to get the book out, I'll start back on it again, even on a bi-monthly basis. Because I owe those characters something.

And Warren's project doesn't change anything, because he's taking some B-list characters and playing around with them, from what I can tell. Bully for him and I can't wait to read it. Whereas my story is…well, the simplest way to explain it is…well, Rising Stars done correctly. And you can't copyright a title. And mine has a space in it anyway. And Warren didn't rip the idea off or buy it off of me. So it's still viable as near as I can tell.

The whole thing's just weird. Not to mention the fact that the villain's name is Dirk Anger.

Okay, here's the story. Go on.

Found this via Jeff Jarvis, who paints this as a good thing. And I like Jeff's Buzz Machine a lot, and I respect his opinion a great deal, so I hate to feel like I'm continually being a dick…you know, more than I usually am. But for Christ's sake.

Look, I'm glad the NYPD are doing their jobs. I have nothing against the NYPD. These are the people who are keeping New York City safe and kept me and my family safe while we were there this past weekend. Not that I even spoke to an officer or dealt with one directly, mind you, but we left in one piece, and whether directly or not, that's thanks in part to them. So much love. That's not my point here.

My point is this: just what is the point of this? Is it feeling good about ourselves? Or catching the bad guys?

Because if you want to feel good, sure, go up and volunteer to be searched, thus taking time away from the officer in question who could be searching somebody who didn't volunteer. Because–call me crazy–I somehow doubt that if you volunteer to be searched, you're going to be carrying a big fat B-word. I'm glad you feel good and the officer in question feels good, but did that interaction catch a bad guy? No? Then why are you doing it?

And I hate to sound like a conspiracy nut. I'm a libertarian but not a whacko libertarian, please let's be clear about that. But it's not "okay" to simply be searched.

What's the first line of the story? "New Yorkers are extremely eager to prove they're not terrorists." You shouldn't have to prove you're not. That's the whole point. The point is that the government has to prove you are. And I'm not trying to say, yes, let's make that job hard on the government, because in this era of mad power grabs, one of the few things they actually should be doing is protecting us. But come on, people.

You're waiving your Fourth Amendment rights. And considering private property rights are in the toilet and we're this close to getting a national ID card ("papers, please"), can anyone blame me for being a little paranoid? Remember: Uncle Billy said, "Just because you're paranoid, doesn't mean they're not out to get you."

So sure, give the NYPD a pat on the back. Tell them thanks for standing between you and the nutcases who want to bomb us back to the Stone Age so we can all propel automobiles with our feet. But this whole thing was supposed to be about catching the bad guys. So please let them do that as quickly as they can.

Although now that I think about it, considering the whole thing is pretty ineffectual, what does it hurt?

The first T-word who walks up and volunteers or gets picked at random and consents to be searched, I promise to reconsider all of this. But until then…

You can't listen to your iPod during take off and landing. Why? In the good old days, you never had to turn off your Walkman. And yes, I know, the iPod is a lot more than a cassette player, but if me listening to an MP3 has the potential to knock an airplane out of the sky, then I'm amazed we allow the things on planes at all.

Anyway, the stewardess asked me to turn mine off and I complied. I even took my earphones out when she asked me to, in case…I don't know, the flesh of my ears and the earphones had some kind of chemical reaction that would melt a hole in the side of the plane. Or something.

But I started thinking. Let's assume that there's a ban on all electronic devices simply because there's so many that the flight attendants can't be bothered to check off the good and the bad. That seems reasonable. It's just turn them all off. Fine. But I wonder where they would draw the line?

If I were planning on traveling again anytime soon, I'd consider trying to use these during takeoff and/or landing…just to see what the reaction would be:

Yeah, I know, it's a dickish thing to even consider. But they'd have a lot calmer passenger on their hands if I could listen to something besides the screaming kids and the grind of metal as the damn plane tries to claw its way airborne.

Credit where it's due. Merlin stuff here, Galaxian here, 8-track here, gramophone here and Lite Brite here.

We didn't reunite the ghost of a young mummy with his parents, but we did the best we could.

Here's a bronze fragment that concerns grant of citizenship in Doric script, from around 490-480 B.C.E. It's nice to see that even back then you could sneak commentary about people into documents:

And this is such a human waste:

…as the distant sounds of a drunken bar full of people attacking the closing eight minutes of "Hey Jude" at the top of their lungs. I am filled with nostalgia for drinking, playing in a band, and also drinking while playing in a band.

The only thing that sucked about drinking and playing in a band was I had to stay sober, for the most part. More than a beer during the course of a performance and my voice wouldn't hold out, especially if we were doing more than a couple of hours. Meanwhile, the rest of the guys, glorious bastards that they were, only played better the more soused they became.

"Widge, want a beer? Can't have one? Damn, guess I'll take it then."

They were wonderful musicians. But assholes. God bless them.