He Was Not The Joker


Comic-book panel of Batman saying, as he breaks a rifle in half, 'This is the weapon of the enemy. We do not need it. We will not use it.'

Nor was he Batman.

He was (is) a horrifyingly real person, this deranged individual who took a dozen lives during a 12:01 a.m. screening of The Dark Knight Rises in Aurora, Colorado.

"I don't want to know this man's name," Dan Slott posted early Friday on Twitter. "I don't want him to gain any kind of notoriety. He should vanish from history."

Like a lot of folks, I'm with Slott, and I won't be referring to the perpetrator by name here. Even the least sensationalized news of the shooting has to do just that as a matter of factual reporting, of course — the kind of reporting, sadly, that was in short supply early on, leading to erroneous associations on the part of more than one news organization between the shooter and political movements in both directions along the left/right spectrum.

HIVE Minded


The other night I had a rather strange dream.

I have strange dreams often, as I've mentioned here before — you can see all of my dream posts if you're intrigued by what follows — but the strange thing about this one was how of-the-moment it was. Upon waking it would be the 4th of July and my blogging buddy Teebore's next installment of his issue-by-issue X-Men analysis would be published; both figured into the dream. Sometimes I'm more surprised by dreams that relate to my actual everyday existence than those in which I'm playing for the Phillies or meeting Queen Elizabeth or hanging out with the Avengers.

When this dream began I was drawing, an activity in which I rarely engage anymore
in waking life as it's a lot harder physically than it used to be, yet one that I occasionally find myself pursuing in dreams — perhaps to keep those creative muscles limber, if
only inside my head. That drawing, centered on Superman, was getting to be rather intricate, too, I realized as I was inking it ("inking" = the stage of applying black ink by pen, marker, or brush to finish the line artwork after "penciling" a piece of art in the comics world).

The 'Works


Photo of fireworks going off in the night sky

At times like this I'm glad that I don't believe in Hell, 'cause I'd probably send myself there just by virtue (or actually, vice) of being snarky to the kids in my family.

We'd just started to watch the 4th of July display when I told my cousin's 9-year-old daughter L that fireworks were made by catching fairies, strapping them to small rockets, and shooting them into the sky.

"Do the fairies get hurt?" (L said this with a sly smile, playing along. She's a smart cookie — loves reading, has a high BS meter.)

"That's why we clap so hard during the finale," I replied. "We have to bring them back, like with Tinkerbell in Peter Pan."

Adventures in Maybe Twitting


I am now on Twitter.

I've just sent the 20 characters above as my first Twit, in fact. (Like I said a couple of posts ago, I can't accept "tweet" as either a noun or a verb when it comes to Twitter. It's not called Tweeter. It's called Twitter and so using the service is "twitting" or Twittering and the messages are Twits or perhaps Twitterings.)

My Twitter handle is @BrianLamken. I found out quite a while back that @blamken
was already taken; I rejected @blamsblog or something else along those lines because that would look weird when people use my handle to refer to me as a person — "still waiting for @BrianLamken to show up" — and @BrianSanerLamken is too long.

I don't expect to Twitter out many Twits of my own for a while, although enthusiasm may get the better of me. Eventually I'll be promoting the blog and other stuff when
my online activity increases, fingers crossed, and I'm sure that the more I follow other people on Twitter the more I'll want to join the conversation. For now, I've signed up mostly in the name of checking out the feeds of friends and acquaintances and folks I admire without having to click through from their own websites and such to catch up.

I won't make any promises but if you follow me I will very possibly follow you.



Related: Twitter-Pated Spamalittlemore
It Seemed Like a Good Idea at the Time