I is havin' a young 'un. And as part of my newfound responsibility, I'll need to clean up my act. No more having three beers in a single night. No more staying up until midnight playing Scrabble online. No more injecting heroin into my eyeball. Yup, my hedonistic lifestyle's gotta change.
But I don't know if I can give up cursing. As a kid I was defiantly anti-cursing, and said a prayer of apology every time I even thought of a curseword. Nowadays I realize that there is a rainbow of self-expression in those naughty words, and I'm not sure I can live without some of them.
Some can go. "Fuckin'" is usually unnecessary. It adds little more than emphasis, as in "That was fuckin' ridiculous!" You don't lose much meaning by just saying "That was completely ridiculous!" I'm not going to miss that one.
But there are some naughty or slightly naughty terms that are downright irreplacable. For example:
Half-assed: I challenge you to give me a term that conveys the same spirit of obligatory, apathetic endeavor as does "half-assed." "Low-effort"? That doesn't really communicate the requisite disdain for the person in question. "Half-baked"? Again, not enough disdain.
Like most cursewords or terms, it makes no sense when taken literally. Why would something low-effort require just half of your ass, and a full effort require all of it? Are that many pursuits so dependent on the entire use of the ass? (Keep it clean, people.)
But that's sort of the beauty of it. I personally love it when a term is able to communicate something so well despite its literal meaning -- in this case, "concerning a section of the gluteus maximus" -- having so little to do with the meaning that it has taken on in our culture.
This is actually one of the few words involving "ass" that I find to be useful. Americans apparently have an ass fetish, because we affix "ass" onto every word we can come up with: dumb-ass, smart-ass, weird-ass, crazy-ass, etc. As with "fuckin'", little is typically added besides emphasis. (Well, "smart-ass" is kind of useful. I suppose you could say "smart alec" instead. But that smells like one of these lame-ass cleaned-up versions of regular curses, like "Gosh!" or "Geez!" instead of "God!" It's kind of a "letter of the law but no the spirit" thing, you know? It's like, do you really think God's going to be like, "Well, since you didn't quite say the entire word, you get by on a technicality." No, He's going to smite you either way. Everyone gets smoten eventually. So live it up while you can, motherfuckers!)
Bullshit: There are many ways to talk about half-truths, but none really communicates anything similar to what "bullshit" so poetically expresses. "Bullshit" is not just a lie -- it's a whole world of lies, a rich tapestry of falsehood, intended to make the speaker look brilliant and wonderful. In fact, this one professor dude once came on "The Daily Show" hawking his book, called "Bullshit," which explored the rich veins of connotation and denotation captured in this wonderful word. So smart people recognize the value of "bullshit" too. So there.
Again, the literal meaning (bovine waste product) has little or nothing to do with the meaning that it has taken on. And again, a big part the word's utility it wrapped up in the disdain it communicates. I would assume that that's true of every curseword or term. And maybe that's why they're so popular -- we don't have enough clean words in the English language that convey sufficient hatred.
Nigga, please: OK, I never actually say this one. Nor should I. "Nigga" is a word that has a different meaning depending on the race of the speaker. My particular race (white) has such a long and brutal history of using the word as a weapon that I don't know if we should ever be allowed to use it, regardless of our intentions. From our mouths it will always have at least a partial meaning of "you are not even human." That's powerful stuff, and not to be played around with.
But, man, I still secretly wish I could say "nigga, please." It has nothing to do with black people, really. When this phrase is used properly, it's just poetry. It's such a perfect way to tell someone "Look, you're not fooling anyone." But there's more than that. "Nigga, please" has in it the wisdom of someone who's seen it all -- most of it unpleasant -- and has come out the other side not only strong, but strong enough to call out everyone who is obviously full of crap, very publicly, and very rightfully. After you say "nigga, please," everyone is kinda like, "Yeah, you're right! Thank God you said that."
But there is also a little bit of warmth in "nigga, please." Maybe that's the true genius in it. There's a hint of letting the other person in on it, leaving them just enough room to burst out laughing and say "OK, yeah. You're right. I'm full of crap, I'm sorry." Then we can all get on with life.
So where does that leave us? I don't know. I suppose just that cursewords can often capture things that legitimate language just can't, and it's a shame that we can't say them whenever we like. But then, maybe if we did, the words would lose those unique meanings. Maybe they need to be saved for those times when we need to break taboos to get our points across. Hmm.
Saturday, May 29, 2010
Monday, May 24, 2010
Stuff I'm Going to Teach My Kid
I is havin' a young 'un. Well, my wife is, actually. I'm little more than a bystander and occasional advisor. I'm a fan, I suppose. I'm a big-time fan of my wife and her baby, and I spend a lot of my free time rooting for them.
The baby is currently called Figgy Plumbum, because for a while, he/she was between the size of a fig and a plum, according to the baby books. Actually, he/she/it is more the size of an apple right now, so I suppose we should change his/her/its/their name to Figgy Applebum. My plan is to have a different name for him/her/it/them/whose every time he/she/it/they/we/how gets larger. So be the time he/she/it/they/wheretofore/inasmuch gets to be the size of a breadbox, we'll be telling Breadbox to get the hell over here. When he/she/it/why/tired-of-this gets to be a teenager, we'll call him/her Leopard on Its Hind Legs. You get the idea.
I've been very excited about having a kid as long as I can remember. Mainly because I want a person to control. Apparently, slavery is no longer legal (thank you, federal government, for controlling our lives!), so a baby is the best route for human domination. And I've got a lot of lessons to brand into lil' Figgy's fertile brain.
Lesson No. 1. Get a credit card in college. I was a headstrong and defiant young adult. Not in the sense of actually doing anything revolutionary, of course. I was more in the vein of not doing things that normal people just do. I didn't like insurance, for example. Still don't. It seems pansy-ass to me. "Oh, what if my house burns down? Better get fire insurance. Oh, what if my ears fall off? Better get ear insurance." You spend all your life and money hedging yourself against terrible things -- that's the life of a paranoid little weiner, not a grown adult who realizes that risk is a part of life. And you know you always come out badly in the deal, because look at the crazy profits insurance companies make. And look how hard it is to get them to actually pay when you need them to, to actually do the only service that you're paying them so much money to do. Why not just put that money in a savings account instead? Then that money could cover you for any number of disasters, not just one type. And you'll have more money, because you're not paying so much to the insurance company to cover their "taking people's money" costs. Moreover, the chance that you're going to have a fire in which your ears fall off before that savings account builds up sufficiently is vanishingly small. And that's the thing -- any disaster is possible. It's a matter of how probable it is. Life is about playing the percentages, and there is a very small-percentage chance that an ear-severing fire will overtake my condo, so I refuse to worry about it.
Anyway. Got off track there. That's not a lesson I'm going to teach my kid. Yes, you do need auto insurance and health insurance and life insurance, sigh. Just don't go into the insurance industry or I will kill you and then disown you and then kill you again for good measure.
What was I talking about? Oh yeah, credit cards. Listen up, kid, I got a story here. Go get me another beer first. And in a glass this time, dipshit!
OK, gimme that beer. Now listen up! Credit cards. Get one in college. When you're in college, the credit card companies are falling all over themselves to get the chance to get in line to purchase a ticket to be considered to be allowed to give you a credit card. But as soon as you're out of college and don't have a very good job (because no one does straight out of college), they suddenly become Entertainment Tonight to your former boy band full of 40-year-olds. That is, you've suddenly gone from flavor of the month to begging for change outside of Baskin Robbins. You're old news, hotshot! Fizzo! Floparoonie! Plummetini! Collapsiogo! Not-doing-terribly-well-aroski-meier!
Me, I was all righteously indignant about credit cards (see: insurance). I thought credit cards were a plot to get me to spend beyond my means. And then I'd have to pay extra money to the credit card company each month, and that money would compound indefinitely until I end up paying twice for everything. And they'd jigger the rules whenever they felt like it to keep me paying.
And all of this is true, of course. But, like insurance, they're a necessary evil. As long as you're smart about it, you can win against the credit card companies. Ditto for insurance, sort of.
So get a credit card in college. Don't use it unless you need to. I ain't going to be there to bail you out when you overspend. Hell, look at this shitty apartment -- you think I got the scratch to bail out your skinny little ass? Ever since your mother left me and I lost my job and my ears fell off in that fire, I ... OK, cancel that vision of the future; it's too depressing.
Lesson Number 2. Never, ever, ever, ever room with an attractive person of a complementary sexual persuasion. Even if they're of the opposite sexual persuasion you should think twice. In fact, best to not room with anyone. Avoid people altogether. Live as a hermit in the woods. Make sure you have a good internet connection, though, so I can email you funny jokes. Here's one: What do you call a lawyer who is eaten an alligator? A: I don't know, but it's probably something bad! Ha!
But most of all, don't room with a friend who you could conceivably in some universe have a romantic attachment to. It's one of the most painful things in the world. Especially when you fall for that person big-time, he/she/it rejects you, and you have to go home each night and greet that rejection with a smile. And you get to watch he/she/it go on dates/go into a back room with far inferior mates. And you have to pretend to continue to be the person's friend, while simultaneously and covertly trying to convince that person of how awesome you are, and how he/she should change his/her mind. But of course they don't, because you're "a friend." That is, you're nice but unattractive. And your convincing imitation of a good, caring person will only get your love object to value your friendship even more. So then you spend more agonizing hours with that person as a friend. You end up anxious all the time, especially when you're around the person. But you think you're in love with the person, so you have to keep trying.
In short, it's absolute torture. The first time it happened to me, after college, it was awful. Then I immediately moved into another place with another attractive woman. Of course the exact same thing happened. But this time, my body started to reject my behavior. I was so anxious all the time that I developed a bad stomach condition. I'd get up each morning and puke bile into the toilet. I went through a bunch of tests and ended up on some prescription antacids. But I was still anxious all the time and couldn't eat anything that wasn't very bland, or my stomach would just hurt worse. (It's a good diet plan, by the way. I lost a lot of weight. My stomach almost ate itself, but hey, I looked slightly thinner temporarily!)
That's enough lessons for now. Daddy's tired. Now you can go eatch Elmo.
The baby is currently called Figgy Plumbum, because for a while, he/she was between the size of a fig and a plum, according to the baby books. Actually, he/she/it is more the size of an apple right now, so I suppose we should change his/her/its/their name to Figgy Applebum. My plan is to have a different name for him/her/it/them/whose every time he/she/it/they/we/how gets larger. So be the time he/she/it/they/wheretofore/inasmuch gets to be the size of a breadbox, we'll be telling Breadbox to get the hell over here. When he/she/it/why/tired-of-this gets to be a teenager, we'll call him/her Leopard on Its Hind Legs. You get the idea.
I've been very excited about having a kid as long as I can remember. Mainly because I want a person to control. Apparently, slavery is no longer legal (thank you, federal government, for controlling our lives!), so a baby is the best route for human domination. And I've got a lot of lessons to brand into lil' Figgy's fertile brain.
Lesson No. 1. Get a credit card in college. I was a headstrong and defiant young adult. Not in the sense of actually doing anything revolutionary, of course. I was more in the vein of not doing things that normal people just do. I didn't like insurance, for example. Still don't. It seems pansy-ass to me. "Oh, what if my house burns down? Better get fire insurance. Oh, what if my ears fall off? Better get ear insurance." You spend all your life and money hedging yourself against terrible things -- that's the life of a paranoid little weiner, not a grown adult who realizes that risk is a part of life. And you know you always come out badly in the deal, because look at the crazy profits insurance companies make. And look how hard it is to get them to actually pay when you need them to, to actually do the only service that you're paying them so much money to do. Why not just put that money in a savings account instead? Then that money could cover you for any number of disasters, not just one type. And you'll have more money, because you're not paying so much to the insurance company to cover their "taking people's money" costs. Moreover, the chance that you're going to have a fire in which your ears fall off before that savings account builds up sufficiently is vanishingly small. And that's the thing -- any disaster is possible. It's a matter of how probable it is. Life is about playing the percentages, and there is a very small-percentage chance that an ear-severing fire will overtake my condo, so I refuse to worry about it.
Anyway. Got off track there. That's not a lesson I'm going to teach my kid. Yes, you do need auto insurance and health insurance and life insurance, sigh. Just don't go into the insurance industry or I will kill you and then disown you and then kill you again for good measure.
What was I talking about? Oh yeah, credit cards. Listen up, kid, I got a story here. Go get me another beer first. And in a glass this time, dipshit!
OK, gimme that beer. Now listen up! Credit cards. Get one in college. When you're in college, the credit card companies are falling all over themselves to get the chance to get in line to purchase a ticket to be considered to be allowed to give you a credit card. But as soon as you're out of college and don't have a very good job (because no one does straight out of college), they suddenly become Entertainment Tonight to your former boy band full of 40-year-olds. That is, you've suddenly gone from flavor of the month to begging for change outside of Baskin Robbins. You're old news, hotshot! Fizzo! Floparoonie! Plummetini! Collapsiogo! Not-doing-terribly-well-aroski-meier!
Me, I was all righteously indignant about credit cards (see: insurance). I thought credit cards were a plot to get me to spend beyond my means. And then I'd have to pay extra money to the credit card company each month, and that money would compound indefinitely until I end up paying twice for everything. And they'd jigger the rules whenever they felt like it to keep me paying.
And all of this is true, of course. But, like insurance, they're a necessary evil. As long as you're smart about it, you can win against the credit card companies. Ditto for insurance, sort of.
So get a credit card in college. Don't use it unless you need to. I ain't going to be there to bail you out when you overspend. Hell, look at this shitty apartment -- you think I got the scratch to bail out your skinny little ass? Ever since your mother left me and I lost my job and my ears fell off in that fire, I ... OK, cancel that vision of the future; it's too depressing.
Lesson Number 2. Never, ever, ever, ever room with an attractive person of a complementary sexual persuasion. Even if they're of the opposite sexual persuasion you should think twice. In fact, best to not room with anyone. Avoid people altogether. Live as a hermit in the woods. Make sure you have a good internet connection, though, so I can email you funny jokes. Here's one: What do you call a lawyer who is eaten an alligator? A: I don't know, but it's probably something bad! Ha!
But most of all, don't room with a friend who you could conceivably in some universe have a romantic attachment to. It's one of the most painful things in the world. Especially when you fall for that person big-time, he/she/it rejects you, and you have to go home each night and greet that rejection with a smile. And you get to watch he/she/it go on dates/go into a back room with far inferior mates. And you have to pretend to continue to be the person's friend, while simultaneously and covertly trying to convince that person of how awesome you are, and how he/she should change his/her mind. But of course they don't, because you're "a friend." That is, you're nice but unattractive. And your convincing imitation of a good, caring person will only get your love object to value your friendship even more. So then you spend more agonizing hours with that person as a friend. You end up anxious all the time, especially when you're around the person. But you think you're in love with the person, so you have to keep trying.
In short, it's absolute torture. The first time it happened to me, after college, it was awful. Then I immediately moved into another place with another attractive woman. Of course the exact same thing happened. But this time, my body started to reject my behavior. I was so anxious all the time that I developed a bad stomach condition. I'd get up each morning and puke bile into the toilet. I went through a bunch of tests and ended up on some prescription antacids. But I was still anxious all the time and couldn't eat anything that wasn't very bland, or my stomach would just hurt worse. (It's a good diet plan, by the way. I lost a lot of weight. My stomach almost ate itself, but hey, I looked slightly thinner temporarily!)
That's enough lessons for now. Daddy's tired. Now you can go eatch Elmo.
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
EARTHQUAKE!!....!!
We used to have earthquakes fairly often when I was growing up. For some reason, they almost always seemed to happen at night, which meant that they woke you up. I distinctly remember being woken up several times by a gentle rocking of my bed. The first thing that happens with a night earthquake is that you have no idea what's going on - you just woke up, remember. After a second or so, though, you suddenly realize with a thrill that it's an earthquake. If it wasn't too big, you could just lie there and feel the rocking slowly subside. It was always a combination of excitement and comfort to me, somehow.
Then for some reason, they seemed to happen a lot less frequently. There were only a couple that I recall over the last ten years or so that are even worth mentioning. The biggest disappointment with fewer earthquakes, by the way, is you don't get to see the "earthquake guy" - this seismologist who ALWAYS came on tv to tell people what just happened. Here's a couple pictures of him:
Check out that moustache! That's his signature. Seriously. When he signs checks or something, he just dips his moustache in some ink and presses it on the paper.
Anyhow.... Over the last year or so, there'd been a few quakes out in the desert that were big enough to feel out here, but only because I work in a highrise - extra swaying, I guess. Alison had never felt one, so I kept asking her if she felt them, and she kept saying no. In fact, she said that she didn't believe in earthquakes - they were a myth created by Californians to keep people away. The last time she told me that was the day before the big Easter quake we had this year. Talk about a jinx! Of course, that was the biggest one that I've ever felt, so it was a rude introduction.
Now that she's experienced one, she hates them. She doesn't think that the ground (or a house) is supposed to just start moving like that. She has a point, but I have to say that I love 'em! They're my favorite natural disaster to experience in person by far.
My love of earthquakes coupled with Alison's visceral antipathy towards them led me to conduct an informal survey of my aquaintances to find out which one of us held the majority view. Interestingly, I found out that there is a HUGE correlation between one's attitude towards earthquakes and where one grew up. Nearly all of the native Californians enjoyed quakes, or at least were neutral. Nearly everyone from someplace else, though, hated them - often, even so that the mere thought of one gave them the willies.
To the loyal readers out there, I'd like to continue the survey - what do you think of earthquakes? Have you felt one?
And, more broadly, what's your favorite natural disaster? Does it matter where you're from or grew up? Shouldn't a tornado or an earthquake be just as terrifying (or exciting) whether you're from Oklahoma or California (or vice versa)?
Then for some reason, they seemed to happen a lot less frequently. There were only a couple that I recall over the last ten years or so that are even worth mentioning. The biggest disappointment with fewer earthquakes, by the way, is you don't get to see the "earthquake guy" - this seismologist who ALWAYS came on tv to tell people what just happened. Here's a couple pictures of him:
Check out that moustache! That's his signature. Seriously. When he signs checks or something, he just dips his moustache in some ink and presses it on the paper.
Anyhow.... Over the last year or so, there'd been a few quakes out in the desert that were big enough to feel out here, but only because I work in a highrise - extra swaying, I guess. Alison had never felt one, so I kept asking her if she felt them, and she kept saying no. In fact, she said that she didn't believe in earthquakes - they were a myth created by Californians to keep people away. The last time she told me that was the day before the big Easter quake we had this year. Talk about a jinx! Of course, that was the biggest one that I've ever felt, so it was a rude introduction.
Now that she's experienced one, she hates them. She doesn't think that the ground (or a house) is supposed to just start moving like that. She has a point, but I have to say that I love 'em! They're my favorite natural disaster to experience in person by far.
My love of earthquakes coupled with Alison's visceral antipathy towards them led me to conduct an informal survey of my aquaintances to find out which one of us held the majority view. Interestingly, I found out that there is a HUGE correlation between one's attitude towards earthquakes and where one grew up. Nearly all of the native Californians enjoyed quakes, or at least were neutral. Nearly everyone from someplace else, though, hated them - often, even so that the mere thought of one gave them the willies.
To the loyal readers out there, I'd like to continue the survey - what do you think of earthquakes? Have you felt one?
And, more broadly, what's your favorite natural disaster? Does it matter where you're from or grew up? Shouldn't a tornado or an earthquake be just as terrifying (or exciting) whether you're from Oklahoma or California (or vice versa)?
Saturday, May 8, 2010
The Nerdiness Scale
Nerd culture is thriving like never before. There was a time when, if you were a nerd, you only had physics experiments or "Lord of the Rings" to keep you entertained. Now there are dozens of TV channels containing nothing but nerd-friendly content. It is truly a golden age for Nerdish-Americans.
I've posted before about the differences between nerds, geeks, and dorks, so I won't go into that debate, hotly contested as it is within Nerdic America. Here I'm more interested in the degrees of nerdiness of various things. There is a spectrum, you see, from 1 (not at all nerdy) to 10 (holy cow, your comic book collection is about to topple over and bury you alive).
Let's take an example. I think we can all agree that "Star Trek" is pretty nerdy. Indeed, it's a sort of standard-bearer for Nerd culture, a touchstone by which people of other social strata are first exposed to the rich diversity of nerdania. But is it nerdier than "Babylon 5"? Ha ha (snort) ha ha -- yeah right, and Captain Pike had no ill effects from delta ray radiation on that J-class training ship! Ha ha (snort) ha ha ... gasp ... oh dear ... I need my inhaler ...
Basically, "Star Trek" is less nerdy than "Babylon 5" because non-nerds can watch and enjoy "Star Trek." It has considerably more crossover appeal than other fields of nerdology. At the same time, nerds can indeed get extremely over-nerdulated about "Star Trek," as we all know. The immense strength of its Nerdic following has to keep its score pretty high.
That's basically how the scale works -- you have to look at the balance between crossover appeal and nerditorial fervor. With those two criteria in mind, "Star Trek" gets a 6 out of 10 on the Nerdiness Scale. "Babylon 5" is easily a 9.
So, here are some other judgements:
"Star Wars": 4. As with "Star Trek," you can get extremely nerdified over "Star Wars." But I submit that "Star Wars" has more crossover appeal than "Star Trek," and has a smaller Nerdic subculture. Of course, comparing the "Star Trek" nerdiverse to "Star Wars"'s is a bit like saying Jessica Simpson is dumber than Paris Hilton -- you're talking about the two titans of their field. But "Star Trek" was the groundbreaker, and still the champion.
Now if you start talking about the "Star Wars" sub-subculture, the books and graphic novels and Web sites exploring Greedo's relationship with his mother or Darth Maul's favorite breakfast cereal, well, then you're getting into primo nerditacularity, possibly a 9 or 10.
"Doctor Who": 8. That's the score in the States, that is. In Britain, it gets probably a 5. In the States, you have to be a pretty hard-core Nerdist to watch "Doctor Who." I'm happy to say to say my particular nerdicacity stops at around a 6 or so, so I have never seen "Doctor Who."
"Doctor Who" has many factors pushing it in to top-flight, high-yield, weapons-grade, light sweet crude nerdilocity:
But it has never really reached the mainstream masses in the States the way the two Star empires have. "Monty Python" crosses over not to Joe Sixpack and Jane Peoplemagazinereader but to Professor Van Nostrand and Chuckles McSlappy (a.k.a. smarties and comedians). That pushes it a bit higher on the scale.
My wife put this one best. She says that post-pubescent unathletic boys tend to go apeshit for "Monty Python" (particularly "Monty Python and the Holy Grail," of course). That's usually a prime sign of Grade-A nerdiciousness. But then many of those boys grow up to be relative non-nerds, maybe 3s or 4s on the scale. And there isn't a huge "Monty Python" nerdastic subculture -- there's not much in the way of fan fiction or action figure trading or sexual fantasies about Carol Cleveland. So that knocks it back a few points. The middle is a good place for it.
"Dungeons and Dragons": 10. I'm sorry, but D&D is really the ne plus ultra of nerdturbation. There's really no aspect that crosses over to legitimate society. There was a TV show once, I think, and some terrible movies that no one but the Nerdeviks saw. Really, the only way you can participate in Dungeons and Dragons is to take out some 20-sided dice, call yourself Mokdur the Impaler, buy some pewter figures of half-orcs, and let the nerdescence burst out of you like a primal scream.
And the nerdalaxy for D&D is massive and fervent. There are entire stores devoted to it, stores that may even be in your neighborhood and you don't even know it. They usually pose as normal storefronts, but if you innocently waltz in seeking out a nice lathe or some liquid aspartame, you will get suspicious and unfriendly looks from the shady, shifty-eyed characters shuffling within. You quickly get the hint, depart quietly, and immediately after you close the door behind you, you get the distinct feeling that a rumbling, growling mob has suddenly re-emerged from the shadows to light upon each other with adamantine battleaxes and Spells of Necrotic Termination.
I admit that I have met a few D&D adherents. I would never, of course, reveal their identities. It is their choice whether or not to come out of the closet and undergo the inevitable repercussions from a world that refuses to accept their lifestyles. I can only support them and hope that some day, somewhere, a society will be born that will permit grown men to freely and openly attack each other's Breastplates of Kaltar with the Orbs of Negative Energy that they have spent ther lives accumulating.
So that's the basic idea of the Nerdiness Scale. What other Nerdiflabiflubilations would you bring up, and where would you put them on the scale?
I've posted before about the differences between nerds, geeks, and dorks, so I won't go into that debate, hotly contested as it is within Nerdic America. Here I'm more interested in the degrees of nerdiness of various things. There is a spectrum, you see, from 1 (not at all nerdy) to 10 (holy cow, your comic book collection is about to topple over and bury you alive).
Let's take an example. I think we can all agree that "Star Trek" is pretty nerdy. Indeed, it's a sort of standard-bearer for Nerd culture, a touchstone by which people of other social strata are first exposed to the rich diversity of nerdania. But is it nerdier than "Babylon 5"? Ha ha (snort) ha ha -- yeah right, and Captain Pike had no ill effects from delta ray radiation on that J-class training ship! Ha ha (snort) ha ha ... gasp ... oh dear ... I need my inhaler ...
Basically, "Star Trek" is less nerdy than "Babylon 5" because non-nerds can watch and enjoy "Star Trek." It has considerably more crossover appeal than other fields of nerdology. At the same time, nerds can indeed get extremely over-nerdulated about "Star Trek," as we all know. The immense strength of its Nerdic following has to keep its score pretty high.
That's basically how the scale works -- you have to look at the balance between crossover appeal and nerditorial fervor. With those two criteria in mind, "Star Trek" gets a 6 out of 10 on the Nerdiness Scale. "Babylon 5" is easily a 9.
So, here are some other judgements:
"Star Wars": 4. As with "Star Trek," you can get extremely nerdified over "Star Wars." But I submit that "Star Wars" has more crossover appeal than "Star Trek," and has a smaller Nerdic subculture. Of course, comparing the "Star Trek" nerdiverse to "Star Wars"'s is a bit like saying Jessica Simpson is dumber than Paris Hilton -- you're talking about the two titans of their field. But "Star Trek" was the groundbreaker, and still the champion.
Now if you start talking about the "Star Wars" sub-subculture, the books and graphic novels and Web sites exploring Greedo's relationship with his mother or Darth Maul's favorite breakfast cereal, well, then you're getting into primo nerditacularity, possibly a 9 or 10.
"Doctor Who": 8. That's the score in the States, that is. In Britain, it gets probably a 5. In the States, you have to be a pretty hard-core Nerdist to watch "Doctor Who." I'm happy to say to say my particular nerdicacity stops at around a 6 or so, so I have never seen "Doctor Who."
"Doctor Who" has many factors pushing it in to top-flight, high-yield, weapons-grade, light sweet crude nerdilocity:
- It's British. (Nerdites are often Anglophiles.)
- It's on PBS. (related to no. 1)
- It's sci-fi.
- It's laughably cheap-looking sci-fi (as I am led to believe, anyway. I haven't seen it, remember? OK, once. But I only watched it because the Doctor's female hanger-on was real hot, and I was 13, and I would've watched an cat strangling competition if a hot chick was involved.)
But it has never really reached the mainstream masses in the States the way the two Star empires have. "Monty Python" crosses over not to Joe Sixpack and Jane Peoplemagazinereader but to Professor Van Nostrand and Chuckles McSlappy (a.k.a. smarties and comedians). That pushes it a bit higher on the scale.
My wife put this one best. She says that post-pubescent unathletic boys tend to go apeshit for "Monty Python" (particularly "Monty Python and the Holy Grail," of course). That's usually a prime sign of Grade-A nerdiciousness. But then many of those boys grow up to be relative non-nerds, maybe 3s or 4s on the scale. And there isn't a huge "Monty Python" nerdastic subculture -- there's not much in the way of fan fiction or action figure trading or sexual fantasies about Carol Cleveland. So that knocks it back a few points. The middle is a good place for it.
"Dungeons and Dragons": 10. I'm sorry, but D&D is really the ne plus ultra of nerdturbation. There's really no aspect that crosses over to legitimate society. There was a TV show once, I think, and some terrible movies that no one but the Nerdeviks saw. Really, the only way you can participate in Dungeons and Dragons is to take out some 20-sided dice, call yourself Mokdur the Impaler, buy some pewter figures of half-orcs, and let the nerdescence burst out of you like a primal scream.
And the nerdalaxy for D&D is massive and fervent. There are entire stores devoted to it, stores that may even be in your neighborhood and you don't even know it. They usually pose as normal storefronts, but if you innocently waltz in seeking out a nice lathe or some liquid aspartame, you will get suspicious and unfriendly looks from the shady, shifty-eyed characters shuffling within. You quickly get the hint, depart quietly, and immediately after you close the door behind you, you get the distinct feeling that a rumbling, growling mob has suddenly re-emerged from the shadows to light upon each other with adamantine battleaxes and Spells of Necrotic Termination.
I admit that I have met a few D&D adherents. I would never, of course, reveal their identities. It is their choice whether or not to come out of the closet and undergo the inevitable repercussions from a world that refuses to accept their lifestyles. I can only support them and hope that some day, somewhere, a society will be born that will permit grown men to freely and openly attack each other's Breastplates of Kaltar with the Orbs of Negative Energy that they have spent ther lives accumulating.
So that's the basic idea of the Nerdiness Scale. What other Nerdiflabiflubilations would you bring up, and where would you put them on the scale?
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