Yesterday I got up to nearly the 4000 word mark in the “knock this thing seriously into shape and halve its length” draft of the antho story. It’s still going to go over the 5000 word limit, but the fine print did say that they’d consider longer stories. Other work on the plate: Book #2, of course, and two comic book introductions (more about those soon — well, more about the comics, not about the introductions!)

Now, onto the main act of this post: Walrus plays the Swiss horn! (via The Oyster’s Garter)

And the sideshow attraction, also via The Oyster’s Garter — be amazed by Mandelbrot the Fractal Teddy!

This article from Discovery caught my eye this morning. Just like humans breathe in oxygen and breathe out carbon dioxide, “some bacteria take in toxic metals and release non-toxic versions.” Scientists have been trying to work out how, with the goal of using the bacteria to clean up nuclear waste sites. “A new study brings that goal one step closer to reality. Researchers have identified and located two proteins that give certain bacteria the power to detoxify dangerous metals, including uranium, chromium and technetium.”

Microbiologist Brian Lower, whose team made the discovery, also notes that the bacteria they studied, Shewanella oneidensis, “generate a small amount of electricity as they eat waste, giving them potential as biofuel cells”.

The bacteria aren’t ready to be put to work yet, however. “It’s a matter of outsmarting the microbes so they do what you want them to do rather than what they want to do,” said biologist Kenneth Nealson.

Hopefully, human beings can outsmart microbes. Which leads (sort of) to this: a lauded scientific thinker’s views on why climate change may not be such a bad thing. Freeman Dyson of Princeton’s Institute for Advanced Study has spoken out in favour of (scrubbed) coal and contends that carbon, and increased temperatures, might be helpful rather than harmful to life on the planet.  I’m not qualified to have any opinion on Dyson’s views in those connections, but I found myself thinking about this one item in the article:

“(Dyson) had added the caveat that if carbon dioxide levels soared too high, they could be soothed by the mass cultivation of specially bred ‘carbon-eating trees,’ whereupon Eric Posner, a law professor at the University of Chicago, had looked through the thick grove of honorary degrees Mr. Dyson has been awarded — there are 21 from universities like Georgetown, Princeton and Oxford — and suggested that ‘perhaps trees can also be designed so that they can give directions to lost hikers.’ ”

To which my mind went, “Well, you know, why not?” Perhaps I’m just an optimistic fantasiser, but human beings have proven time and again just what clever monkeys we are. If it’s at all physically possible, it seems, we will find a way to do it. Given what nature has already done with organic material, the engineerability of biological matter seems a field full of opportunity, as Dyson believes:

“Biotech, he writes in his book, ‘Infinite in All Directions’ (1988), ‘offers us the chance to imitate nature’s speed and flexibility,’ and he imagines the furniture and art that people will ‘grow’ for themselves, the pet dinosaurs they will ‘grow’ for their children (he has six children himself), along with an idiosyncratic menagerie of genetically engineered cousins of the carbon-eating tree: termites to consume derelict automobiles, a potato capable of flourishing on the dry red surfaces of Mars, a collision-avoiding car.”

Because it’s human nature to look out for number one and to care about the short term more than the long term, I admit I’m pessimistic about the chances of the global push to reduce carbon emissions (and let’s assume these emissions are a bad thing). I can’t see any reason to place hope in the operation of selflessness and long-term thinking in (the perhaps mis-named) Homo sapiens. As I see it, the only spot to park a bit of hope is in our orangutan-like cleverness with technology. Rather than expect us to become any wiser that we’ve shown ourselves capable of being since we climbed down from the trees, I’m hoping we’ll somehow MacGyver our way out of trouble. And grow those My Little Dinosaurs. And collision-avoiding potatoes.

The continuing story… thanks to Liminal Icons for the “Gentlemen” sign Nothing here that you couldn’t show to the Pope, so it can be proudly(?) public.

I’ve just found out how to password protect a post. The older I get, the steeper the learning curves get… Having looked at mailing list options, I think password protection for future doujinshi posts would be a better idea than a mailing list. I’ll email the password to people who asked to be on the list.

Since it’s been a while, here was the last page:

The latest report is that she hit one of the staff and escaped again, using her Jedi superpowers. Assuming cosmic proportions, she went on a stomping rampage through Melbourne, mistaking it for Tokyo (she wasn’t wearing her glasses), tearing up skyscrapers and shooting lasers out of her eyes. Lord Mayor Robert Doyle, seeing (though a periscope in his bunker) my aunt’s potential as a weapon with which he might realise his dream of destroying Adelaide, deployed a crack unit of parking inspectors to capture her. Pulling the dome off Flinders Street Station and the spire off the Arts Centre, she made a mortar and pestle with which she ground the parking inspectors into a hearty (and livery, and bony) soup. Then she wandered west and destroyed Adelaide* anyway.

Mum is none too pleased and has hired an outside carer with ninja superpowers to keep an eye on my aunt. However, in fights between Jedi and ninja, the Jedi usually wins.

*Speaking of Adelaide, South Australia has passed a new law allowing the cloning of human embryos for research, and the mixing of human and animal genetic material. No longer will Adelaide be known as the City of Churches, but as the City of Flying Dog-Men. And you can grow your own dope there. For Baphomet’s sake, does that sound like the kind of place that should be shut down…?

Reading The Age this morning, I came across this: Australia has put together a national advisory group, comprising a psychologist, a child health expert, a Federal Government minister, a model, two fashion retailers, and one current and one former magazine editor, with the task of improving the body image of young women.

“Over the next five months, the group will draft a voluntary code of conduct to look at making magazines and media outlets use a wider range of body shapes and sizes, tell readers when they have retouched photos, and set industry age limits on models.”

Willfully leaving aside the question of how much a “voluntary code of conduct” can “make” anyone do anything, this sounds like a good idea. It would be great if a wide range of figure types were given a positive image. I can’t help thinking, though, that behind this worthy project there is a blind eye turned to the greater problem of our culture’s obsession with beauty, particularly the beauty of young women. The fact that this advisory group has been formed tells me that we think it is terribly important — a matter of national significance, in fact — that young women be able to feel beautiful. And it is that important, because we have made it so. Beauty and the body were mental health issues for some women before the 20th century, but in our image-saturated age so many of us are afflicted with disorders related to perception of the body that the need for public and government action is obvious.

Shining a positive light on different shapes and sizes sounds like one good tactic to employ in the necessary fight. But what if we could also somehow distract the focus of attention away from looks entirely and find ways to praise and glamourise accomplishments, intellect and good character? What if, in other words, we could convince ourselves to stop caring so much about whether we make the grade as sex objects and start caring more about the entirety of our being?

I’m closing my eyes and imagining a world where our natures and deeds, not our looks, would be the bedrock of our self esteem. Where, for those of us who are peacocky, style and flair in personal presentation would be more important than the figure and features that nature’s lottery gave us. Where we would understand that every moment we spend obsessing over the flesh is a moment we steal from the nourishment of the mind and soul.

Opening my eyes, I go back to wishing I had longer legs, a prettier hairline and better teeth…

I seem to have nearly finished scribbling another page of Ecchi no City while I should have been doing other things. I’ve decided not to post any more pages online, but I’m wondering if anyone would be interested in receiving new pages in the mail. I’m not expecting floods of replies here, but if some (or even 2) of you are interested, I’ll make a mailing list (addresses invisible, natch). Since this would be off the web, content might be more risque than what was posted online, so please don’t ask to sign up if you’re a minor* (obviously) or likely to be offended by badly drawn, immature, dumb pictures of adults doing adult things, or if you’re afraid of or revolted by pickled fetuses with minds of their own. Any interested parties, please mail me at the usual address or leave a note here.

*I will be erring on the side of caution if I don’t know you

**EDIT: okay, belay that about more risque. It won’t be. A while ago, this country I live in made illegal the circulating of pornography via email. If I read about this at the time, I had obviously forgotten it. For all I know, naughty cartoons count as porn here. (Yes, I’m sliding into paranoia about Big Brother, and yes, it’s embarrassing. I might post about it sometime if I can sort out what’s going on in my head.)
So, no very naughty bits. But loads of retardry, I promise. That, at least, is legal here…

Goodbye, blog archive. There comes a time to burn old diaries (and start a new pile for some future bonfire).

My mother tells me that my nearly 101-year-old great aunt, who recently moved into an aged care home, “has no idea where she is & tried to escape, attempting to take another resident with her.”

In dressing gowns and lipstick, over the wall, evading the dogs, robbing a bank, hijacking a ship, making it to Panama…