I'm trying to articulate my views on a topic.
My view is that it's wrong to take something without paying for it. That's stealing. Even if it's an ebook or a piece of software or a film. I'm not about to go about policing everyone on it, but if I want to have something, I'll buy it, rent it, or borrow it from the library.
People often use the justification that people who steal digital items buy more things than people who don't engage in this behaviour. I hate that argument.
I'm sure it's nice for the economy/industry as a whole, but it's likely pretty irrelevant to the person whose work fell into your category of "don't bother to pay."
Using that argument reminds me of a moment in the episode Boom Town, in series 1 of the new Doctor Who. When the Doctor is having dinner with Margaret, she tries to convince him to let her go, or better yet, help her relocate. She finally resorts to telling the Doctor that she's not as bad as she was. That she had mercy on a woman earlier that day, that she let her live even if she could ruin her plan. The Doctor's not having that bullshit excuse.
You let one of them go, but that's nothing new. Every now and then, a little victim's spared because she smiled, because he's got freckles, because they begged. And that's how you live with yourself. That's how you slaughter millions. Because once in a while, on a whim, if the wind's in the right direction, you happen to be kind.
And while it's more extreme, that's what I think of people who use the excuse that they buy plenty of things, even if they also steal. It's like a rationalisation to make them feel better. If they buy some things, they can erase the wrongness of stealing from others.
Yes, this may come across as really heavy-handed. But you know what? Something is available for a price, and there's an expectation that you pay for it. If you can't afford it, you can go to the library, or wait for a sale. People who are taking the stuff aren't internet heroes or anything like that. They're thieves. And funnily enough, the ones who argue over semantics of what legally constitutes theft will at other times complain about other things, because they don't conform to the social contract. Guess what? One way to conform to the social contract is to not steal other people's work, whether or not it fits to a rigid legal definition of what is property that is capable of being stolen.
Ug. And if you're going to steal, don't brag to others about it, or help them do it.
Also, it doesn't just apply to indie creators. Successful people aren't working free, unless they specify that they are. Having a price attached to their work is an indication that they're not working for nothing.
Rant over. For now.
9 April 2013
3 February 2013
Music in Buffy and Doctor Who
Repost from my G+, only minorly edited:
I've been re-watching the entire Buffy the Vampire Slayer series over the past while. In the second half of season 5, now.
But I had forgotten about The Body. Now, this is going to sound off-topic for a moment. While I love Doctor Who and adore the music, there have been times, including some notable times in series 7 so far, where some lazy script-writing was covered up by emotionally charged and manipulative music. Scenes that wouldn't have been terribly moving had it not been for using variations of themes from some other genuinely devastating moments from previous episodes. The Doctor Who people know how to use the music (and have also used lack of it, during the end credits after Adric's death, for example) to make you really feel for what's going on and advance the story.
Where this connects is that the Buffy episode The Body is all the more powerful for not using any music at all during the episode, except during the credits sequence. There are sounds from what's going on in the scene, or backgrounds of locations, but no actual score. Leaving it to the actors to carry the story. And they do so spectacularly. I bought Buffy's pain, right to the core. I could feel the awkwardness and uncertainty of her friends. I truly fell in love with Anya, her wanting to understand, trying to express deeper feelings, offering her support to Buffy at the hospital in a way that would put most off if they didn't actually listen to how she used her voice, the expression on her face. I could appreciate a glimmer of genuine Willow and Tara chemistry, and felt good that they actually used subtlety finally. Willow's freaking out about what to wear under emotional distress made me connect to her a little more. I even disliked Xander far less than usual. I bought the entire thing. It's a very moving episode.
Bringing me back to Doctor Who. Series 7 has been great so far. Getting emotionally invested in the characters is easy to do. But episodes 1 and 5, Asylum of the Daleks and The Angels Take Manhattan, well... They have some great ideas, some key plot points, they turned me into a sobbing mess both for sad and happy. But the writing is sloppy. The actors, being fantastic, pull it off. But I don't think they could have done it alone without the soundtrack. It covered up some seriously careless writing. Not unexplained points and holes, or things done that point to something to be explained one day in the future, but some terrible bits of writing. On the other hand, I found episodes 2 and 4, Dinosaurs on a Spaceship and The Power of Three, to be a delight to watch in comparison.* Perhaps I didn't go through as many tissues, or have quite the fangirl joy at seeing River Song again, but they were solid and I love them more than any of the other episodes so far because of a strong script with sympathetic and relatable characters and believable dialogue. The soundtrack was fantastic as always, but it complemented and accentuated, rather than hiding and distracting.
No, I'm not claiming that I could do better. No, I don't expect every episode to be perfect. There are always duds. But I do recognise how music can so change perception, and quite dislike manipulation to that extent. Despite getting a good soundtrack to buy after the season is over.
* Note: The closing line of The Power of Three was terrible. Enough to put a bad taste over the entire episode. If you re-watch it, I recommend stopping the show before Amy says that last line with the moment, or muting at that point. Seriously. Also, it was a teensy bit confusing for them to use a variation of the little Amy music when saying goodbye to Kate, but there's a vague possibility that it might lead somewhere. Maybe. But it didn't throw everything, so there's that.
11 November 2012
Donna Noble and the Doctor
Something that has long bothered me is how in series 4 of Doctor Who, they keep making a big deal of pointing out that the Doctor and Donna are not together, not attracted to each other, are just friends.
But I've thought about it, particularly after seeing Catherine Tate and David Tennant together in several other things, and in interviews. They have such incredible chemistry and work fantastically off of each other. If they didn't specifically say they weren't together, it would be far too easy for people to assume they were.
So I'm learning to forgive it.
More on Donna another time.
But I've thought about it, particularly after seeing Catherine Tate and David Tennant together in several other things, and in interviews. They have such incredible chemistry and work fantastically off of each other. If they didn't specifically say they weren't together, it would be far too easy for people to assume they were.
So I'm learning to forgive it.
More on Donna another time.
16 October 2012
The Doctor and River Song: Part 1
After series 6 of Doctor Who ended, I'd see a lot of talk about the Doctor's attitude towards Dr. Song. About his contempt towards her and how he clearly didn't want to marry her.
Even if you haven't watch the Night and the Doctor mini-episodes, I think it's pretty clear that the Doctor does have strong affection, at the very least, for River.
In his own timeline, the first time he kisses River at the end of Day of the Moon, even if taken by surprise, he seems to quite get in to it. Earlier in the story, he had at least a couple of obvious flirting moments with her. When they first get to the warehouse where the little girl is as he looks out the window, and when they rescue Amy.
In A Good Man Goes to War, he doesn't act anything less than delighted when he's miming out kissing to River, after he finds out who she is. In Let's Kill Hitler, when Melody turns into the body they'll know as River Song, when she kisses him, he obviously is kissing her back.
But let's talk about The Wedding of River Song, shall we? When he arrives at the pyramid, sees River. They have a short exchange:
River: Am I the woman who marries you? Or the woman who murders you?
Doctor: I don't want to marry you.
River: I don't want to murder you.
And people ask, if the Doctor truly does care for her, why would he say that, and convincingly?
The Doctor knows what it means to marry River Song. He knows what she can't know yet, he remembers the Silence in the Library. He knows that even if she survives in the computer, that she willingly, enthusiastically even, gave her life to save all those thousands of people, even more accurately, to save him. And he knows that to get to that point, she had to have information that she could only have if they married each other. If they don't marry, he can ensure the day is put off as long as possible for her, possibly is even re-written.
So yes, he may resent marrying her, but that doesn't mean he doesn't want to marry her.
And the only reason I'm talking marriage specifically rather than love without doing the formal deed, is that marriage is the only circumstance under which he can reveal his true name, if I understand correctly.
Note: The Doctor's views on River Song are so much more obvious by this point in series 7, but this is from the point of view of the end of series 6. More on their relationship at some point in the future.
Even if you haven't watch the Night and the Doctor mini-episodes, I think it's pretty clear that the Doctor does have strong affection, at the very least, for River.
In his own timeline, the first time he kisses River at the end of Day of the Moon, even if taken by surprise, he seems to quite get in to it. Earlier in the story, he had at least a couple of obvious flirting moments with her. When they first get to the warehouse where the little girl is as he looks out the window, and when they rescue Amy.
In A Good Man Goes to War, he doesn't act anything less than delighted when he's miming out kissing to River, after he finds out who she is. In Let's Kill Hitler, when Melody turns into the body they'll know as River Song, when she kisses him, he obviously is kissing her back.
But let's talk about The Wedding of River Song, shall we? When he arrives at the pyramid, sees River. They have a short exchange:
River: Am I the woman who marries you? Or the woman who murders you?
Doctor: I don't want to marry you.
River: I don't want to murder you.
And people ask, if the Doctor truly does care for her, why would he say that, and convincingly?
The Doctor knows what it means to marry River Song. He knows what she can't know yet, he remembers the Silence in the Library. He knows that even if she survives in the computer, that she willingly, enthusiastically even, gave her life to save all those thousands of people, even more accurately, to save him. And he knows that to get to that point, she had to have information that she could only have if they married each other. If they don't marry, he can ensure the day is put off as long as possible for her, possibly is even re-written.
So yes, he may resent marrying her, but that doesn't mean he doesn't want to marry her.
And the only reason I'm talking marriage specifically rather than love without doing the formal deed, is that marriage is the only circumstance under which he can reveal his true name, if I understand correctly.
Note: The Doctor's views on River Song are so much more obvious by this point in series 7, but this is from the point of view of the end of series 6. More on their relationship at some point in the future.
2 September 2012
Amy Pond
I love Amy. I really do.
But she isn't as great as the other companions. I really think that the biggest thing that keeps the Doctor with her is immense guilt.
She has the attitude of Rose, in loving the adventure and danger, and looking after the Doctor. She loves Rory, big time. But you get the feeling that her helping others, other than Rory and the Doctor is because she thinks she should. It's not like Rose in series 2, episode 1, where the Doctor insists that Rose would care. If Amy didn't react, I don't really think it'd be the same kind of indicator. Rose, Martha, and Donna all really cared what happened to others. Amy gives the impression that she only cares because she cares what the Doctor thinks.
Which is why she needs Rory and Rory needs her. Alone, neither of them are as compelling as a companion, but he has the caring for everyone thing. He's brave for things that are the right thing to do, rather than headlong rushing into any danger he sees. He's perceptive with people who he doesn't necessarily have a strong connection with. Amy is more perceptive I think, for people who she really loves. Which isn't very many people. And she's right clever. And she will help others, but she appears to go out of her way to do it when the Doctor needs her to. Particularly in The Beast Below, in taking a chance to save the starwhale. When she didn't know the consequences with regards to her relationship with the Doctor, she chooses to forget and try to steer the Doctor away. But in The Rebel Flesh/The Almost People, she doesn't want to help Jennifer if it puts the rest of them in danger, and doesn't want Rory to go after her. I think Rose, Martha, and Donna would have, or at least put up a fuss about leaving her alone.
The best sum-up of her is the Doctor calling her "mad, impossible Amy Pond."
But she isn't as great as the other companions. I really think that the biggest thing that keeps the Doctor with her is immense guilt.
She has the attitude of Rose, in loving the adventure and danger, and looking after the Doctor. She loves Rory, big time. But you get the feeling that her helping others, other than Rory and the Doctor is because she thinks she should. It's not like Rose in series 2, episode 1, where the Doctor insists that Rose would care. If Amy didn't react, I don't really think it'd be the same kind of indicator. Rose, Martha, and Donna all really cared what happened to others. Amy gives the impression that she only cares because she cares what the Doctor thinks.
Which is why she needs Rory and Rory needs her. Alone, neither of them are as compelling as a companion, but he has the caring for everyone thing. He's brave for things that are the right thing to do, rather than headlong rushing into any danger he sees. He's perceptive with people who he doesn't necessarily have a strong connection with. Amy is more perceptive I think, for people who she really loves. Which isn't very many people. And she's right clever. And she will help others, but she appears to go out of her way to do it when the Doctor needs her to. Particularly in The Beast Below, in taking a chance to save the starwhale. When she didn't know the consequences with regards to her relationship with the Doctor, she chooses to forget and try to steer the Doctor away. But in The Rebel Flesh/The Almost People, she doesn't want to help Jennifer if it puts the rest of them in danger, and doesn't want Rory to go after her. I think Rose, Martha, and Donna would have, or at least put up a fuss about leaving her alone.
The best sum-up of her is the Doctor calling her "mad, impossible Amy Pond."
24 August 2012
"Just a theory"
After seeing more references than I care to remember about evolution merely being a "theory," I got annoyed and wrote up a post on my G+ account. Decided to share it here. Full text follows:
Particularly whenever somebody mentions evolution, or speaks against creationism, one of the evolution deniers will inevitably throw out the phrase “just a theory.”
I won't go so far as to say that it enrages me, but it does piss me off. As Inigo Montoya says in The Princess Bride, “You keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means.”
Words used in different contexts can mean completely different things. To most of the English-speaking world, in common parlance, “theory” refers to how something is thought to work. It's how something works on paper, but hasn't necessarily been conclusively proven in practise. It may or may not be commonly believed, but in the end, it is unproven.
In science, it has quite a different use. It is not some airy-fairy thought that scientists have faith in. It is not merely something that they haven't managed to disprove yet. It is not a hypothesis. Steven D. Schafersman* describes it better and more forcibly than I'd be able to without borrowing from him:
"The final step of the scientific method is to construct, support, or cast doubt on a scientific theory. A theory in science is not a guess, speculation, or suggestion, which is the popular definition of the word "theory." A scientific theory is a unifying and self-consistent explanation of fundamental natural processes or phenomena that is totally constructed of corroborated hypotheses. A theory, therefore, is built of reliable knowledge--built of scientific facts--and its purpose is to explain major natural processes or phenomena. Scientific theories explain nature by unifying many once-unrelated facts or corroborated hypotheses; they are the strongest and most truthful explanations of how the universe, nature, and life came to be, how they work, what they are made of, and what will become of them. Since humans are living organisms and are part of the universe, science explains all of these things about ourselves.
"These scientific theories--such as the theories of relativity, quantum mechanics, thermodynamics, evolution, genetics, plate tectonics, and big bang cosmology--are the most reliable, most rigorous, and most comprehensive form of knowledge that humans possess. Thus, it is important for every educated person to understand where scientific knowledge comes from, and how to emulate this method of gaining knowledge. Scientific knowledge comes from the practice of scientific thinking--using the scientific method--and this mode of discovering and validating knowledge can be duplicated and achieved by anyone who practices critical thinking."
Just a theory? Scientific theories contain some of the best of humanity and what we're capable of.
Just a theory? To those using that phrase about evolution for example - excuse the rudeness - but please shut up and go away. You don't understand the words you are using, and it is pointless to engage with you, as you don't know the language, and don't want to know the language.
* http://www.geo.sunysb.edu/esp/files/scientific-method.html
Bolding in the excerpt is added by me.
Particularly whenever somebody mentions evolution, or speaks against creationism, one of the evolution deniers will inevitably throw out the phrase “just a theory.”
I won't go so far as to say that it enrages me, but it does piss me off. As Inigo Montoya says in The Princess Bride, “You keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means.”
Words used in different contexts can mean completely different things. To most of the English-speaking world, in common parlance, “theory” refers to how something is thought to work. It's how something works on paper, but hasn't necessarily been conclusively proven in practise. It may or may not be commonly believed, but in the end, it is unproven.
In science, it has quite a different use. It is not some airy-fairy thought that scientists have faith in. It is not merely something that they haven't managed to disprove yet. It is not a hypothesis. Steven D. Schafersman* describes it better and more forcibly than I'd be able to without borrowing from him:
"The final step of the scientific method is to construct, support, or cast doubt on a scientific theory. A theory in science is not a guess, speculation, or suggestion, which is the popular definition of the word "theory." A scientific theory is a unifying and self-consistent explanation of fundamental natural processes or phenomena that is totally constructed of corroborated hypotheses. A theory, therefore, is built of reliable knowledge--built of scientific facts--and its purpose is to explain major natural processes or phenomena. Scientific theories explain nature by unifying many once-unrelated facts or corroborated hypotheses; they are the strongest and most truthful explanations of how the universe, nature, and life came to be, how they work, what they are made of, and what will become of them. Since humans are living organisms and are part of the universe, science explains all of these things about ourselves.
"These scientific theories--such as the theories of relativity, quantum mechanics, thermodynamics, evolution, genetics, plate tectonics, and big bang cosmology--are the most reliable, most rigorous, and most comprehensive form of knowledge that humans possess. Thus, it is important for every educated person to understand where scientific knowledge comes from, and how to emulate this method of gaining knowledge. Scientific knowledge comes from the practice of scientific thinking--using the scientific method--and this mode of discovering and validating knowledge can be duplicated and achieved by anyone who practices critical thinking."
Just a theory? Scientific theories contain some of the best of humanity and what we're capable of.
Just a theory? To those using that phrase about evolution for example - excuse the rudeness - but please shut up and go away. You don't understand the words you are using, and it is pointless to engage with you, as you don't know the language, and don't want to know the language.
* http://www.geo.sunysb.edu/esp/files/scientific-method.html
Bolding in the excerpt is added by me.
8 August 2012
Doctor Who: The Waters of Mars
It seemed appropriate to re-watch this, given the successful Curiosity Rover Mars landing 2 days ago.
The character of Adelaide Brooke (played by Lindsay Duncan) is magnificent. In every part of this, but most spectacularly, the moments right at the end of the episode.
It's no secret that I love David Tennant. Not only is he my standard of "hot," but he's wonderful as the tenth Doctor. He's not quite as angry as Nine was, but still more driven by his passions than Eleven is. Eleven still has the anger, but it seems to be directed more inwards, making it difficult at times to hide his self-loathing. And Ten is in a particularly sensitive time for The Waters of Mars. Still too soon after losing Donna - not only his best mate, but she'd just experienced a link to him, to the Time Lords. Still too soon after finally being reunited with Rose, somebody who he loved so completely, only to leave her not only cut off from him again, but with a sort of clone of himself. Him, but a him who could really have a relationship with her. Ten leaves Rose, with his final visual memory of her being Rose kissing him, but not him. Two such powerful relationships, with two extraordinary women, lost almost at once.
So the Doctor checks out Mars, I suppose after having letting the TARDIS choose a "random" date for him. Only to land at a fixed point. He brings up Pompeii. Another fixed point that Donna begged him to lessen, at least a little. And in running away from it, he's the one who makes it happen. Only this time, he doesn't have Donna to stop him when needed, to remember what's right, and he's terrified about what he could do. He tries to run. But he's the Doctor. He desperately wants to let himself be drawn into it, he wants to help, he wants to find out what's going on, he knows he shouldn't.
He's pulled in by Adelaide, "the woman with starlight in her soul." He falls a little in love with her, as he does with all his companions, and gets and stays more involved than he know he should. Indeed, he brings about the fixed point even when he does all he can to stop it, as the "Time Lord Victorious." He tells her about Action 5, he tells her about what her death inspires. Had he not, would she have shot herself at the end? Would she have set the base to explode before they left? And she, like all his companions, falls a little in love with the Doctor as well. Had she not, would she have been so horrified by the idea of the Time Lord Victorious? Would she have tried to stop him, as Donna would have?
And her conversation with Adelaide at the end was gut-wrenching, but perfect.
The Doctor: For a long time now, I thought I was just a survivor, but I'm not. I'm the winner. That's who I am. A Time Lord victorious.
Adelaide: And there's no one to stop you?
The Doctor: No.
Adelaide: This is wrong, Doctor! I don't care who you are! The Time Lord victorious is wrong!
The Doctor: That's for me to decide. Now, you'd better get home. Oh, it's all locked up. You've been away. Still, that's easy... All yours.
Adelaide: Is there nothing you can't do?
The Doctor: Not anymore.
This was a turning point. The Doctor was starting to believe himself a kind of god, not subject to any rules. He was the victor, there were spoils from the Last Great Time War! What a monster he could have become, given enough time with that mind-set.
And then Adelaide, after standing up to him and unsuccessfully stopping him, quietly went inside and brought him back to himself. He doesn't get to decide who is important, and who is not so important. He doesn't get to operate outside of any rules. He needs someone, but will always end up lonely and alone in the end.
Coming back to himself, he knows more of what he's capable of. He articulates it somewhat in Series 6, A Good Man Goes to War.
Doctor: Good men don't need rules. Today is not the day to find out why I have so many.
I love Adelaide, if only for reminding the Doctor of why he's the lonely god, trying to be more of a man, rather than striving towards more powerful god-hood. And I love the Doctor, for making people love him and want to be the best that they can be. And expose himself more clearly to himself.
A final thought. I think that in the fabric of time, a component of some of these fixed points specifically is supposed to include him bringing about said fixed points. As his TARDIS tells him in The Doctor's Wife, "I always took you where you needed to go."
The character of Adelaide Brooke (played by Lindsay Duncan) is magnificent. In every part of this, but most spectacularly, the moments right at the end of the episode.
It's no secret that I love David Tennant. Not only is he my standard of "hot," but he's wonderful as the tenth Doctor. He's not quite as angry as Nine was, but still more driven by his passions than Eleven is. Eleven still has the anger, but it seems to be directed more inwards, making it difficult at times to hide his self-loathing. And Ten is in a particularly sensitive time for The Waters of Mars. Still too soon after losing Donna - not only his best mate, but she'd just experienced a link to him, to the Time Lords. Still too soon after finally being reunited with Rose, somebody who he loved so completely, only to leave her not only cut off from him again, but with a sort of clone of himself. Him, but a him who could really have a relationship with her. Ten leaves Rose, with his final visual memory of her being Rose kissing him, but not him. Two such powerful relationships, with two extraordinary women, lost almost at once.
So the Doctor checks out Mars, I suppose after having letting the TARDIS choose a "random" date for him. Only to land at a fixed point. He brings up Pompeii. Another fixed point that Donna begged him to lessen, at least a little. And in running away from it, he's the one who makes it happen. Only this time, he doesn't have Donna to stop him when needed, to remember what's right, and he's terrified about what he could do. He tries to run. But he's the Doctor. He desperately wants to let himself be drawn into it, he wants to help, he wants to find out what's going on, he knows he shouldn't.
He's pulled in by Adelaide, "the woman with starlight in her soul." He falls a little in love with her, as he does with all his companions, and gets and stays more involved than he know he should. Indeed, he brings about the fixed point even when he does all he can to stop it, as the "Time Lord Victorious." He tells her about Action 5, he tells her about what her death inspires. Had he not, would she have shot herself at the end? Would she have set the base to explode before they left? And she, like all his companions, falls a little in love with the Doctor as well. Had she not, would she have been so horrified by the idea of the Time Lord Victorious? Would she have tried to stop him, as Donna would have?
And her conversation with Adelaide at the end was gut-wrenching, but perfect.
The Doctor: For a long time now, I thought I was just a survivor, but I'm not. I'm the winner. That's who I am. A Time Lord victorious.
Adelaide: And there's no one to stop you?
The Doctor: No.
Adelaide: This is wrong, Doctor! I don't care who you are! The Time Lord victorious is wrong!
The Doctor: That's for me to decide. Now, you'd better get home. Oh, it's all locked up. You've been away. Still, that's easy... All yours.
Adelaide: Is there nothing you can't do?
The Doctor: Not anymore.
This was a turning point. The Doctor was starting to believe himself a kind of god, not subject to any rules. He was the victor, there were spoils from the Last Great Time War! What a monster he could have become, given enough time with that mind-set.
And then Adelaide, after standing up to him and unsuccessfully stopping him, quietly went inside and brought him back to himself. He doesn't get to decide who is important, and who is not so important. He doesn't get to operate outside of any rules. He needs someone, but will always end up lonely and alone in the end.
Coming back to himself, he knows more of what he's capable of. He articulates it somewhat in Series 6, A Good Man Goes to War.
Doctor: Good men don't need rules. Today is not the day to find out why I have so many.
I love Adelaide, if only for reminding the Doctor of why he's the lonely god, trying to be more of a man, rather than striving towards more powerful god-hood. And I love the Doctor, for making people love him and want to be the best that they can be. And expose himself more clearly to himself.
A final thought. I think that in the fabric of time, a component of some of these fixed points specifically is supposed to include him bringing about said fixed points. As his TARDIS tells him in The Doctor's Wife, "I always took you where you needed to go."
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