I like eating lunch, alone, at restaurants. When I get the chance to do it, I take a book with me and I enjoy an hour of peace, reading, and eating (three of my four five six favorite things). Really, that’s about the only opportunity I have time to read a book nowadays -– my evenings are taken up with writing.

The best waiters/waitresses are those who see and understand that I’m reading, so they don’t interrupt me unless it’s necessary. Occasionally, though, I get a Chatty Cathy who must think it’s very sad that I’m all alone at a restaurant. The worst cases are when they try to start up conversations with me every time they come to refill my tea. The least bad cases are when they ask me what I’m reading, “Oh, cool. Is it good?“, and they may actually have something interesting to say about the book, genre, or subject.

Yesterday I had a Chatty Cathy waitress. To make it more interesting, and more telling of me, she was a very attractive (I’d even say “hot”), young woman. It’s a strong sign that I’m getting too old when I get annoyed when an attractive young woman tries to talk to me. After she interrupted my reading the first time, and I pretty much broke the interruption quickly to resume my book, I thought about it.

You just had a young hottie trying to chat with you, and you ornery old man shrugged it off. You’re such a jackass.

The next time she came by and tried to chat, I consciously forced myself to be friendly and receptive of the attention. Then she asked, “So, what are you reading?”

I flipped the book around and up so she could see the cover: Sniper by Adrian Gilbert. The cover picture is looking up the business end of a scoped rifle. Yeah, I fully realize the weird vibe that might give someone who doesn’t know me and my normal interests.

“Oh,” she said. Her expression showed she didn’t know how to take this revelation.

“It’s historical,” I said. (It’s about the history of military sniping, including the tactics and tools.)

“I like historical fiction,” she said. “I’ve liked Uncle Tom’s Cabin and The Grapes of Wrath. But that one was hard to get into.”

“Yeah,” I said, “That’s pretty . . . complicated.” (I’ve not read either of those books.)

She continued the small talk for a couple of more minutes, and I tried to not be an ass and dismiss her attention and conversation. But, you know, chatting with a young woman is not as . . . exciting . . . for me now as it was twenty years ago. The conversation never grabbed my interest, and there was no experienced intelligence behind the good looks.

Eventually she broke off the chat and went about her other business. Thank goodness. I couldn’t hold my friendly smile much longer. With a sigh of relief, I went back to my book:

The technological advances in weapon design made during the nineteenth century paradoxically worked against the sniper as well as for him. Whereas in the battles of the previous wars armies fought as large bodies of formed men in the open, by 1900 increases in firepower made this no longer necessary or feasible; indeed, to do so invited almost certain annihilation. Troops made use of the terrain’s protective features at all times, digging entrenchments whenever natural cover was absent. In the period before the outbreak of the First World War military commentators began to talk of the “empty battlefield”, where soldiers fought in small groups dispersed over wide areas. No longer could a marksman level his Whitworth rifle –- as had happened during the American Civil War –- against the crew of an artillery field piece, clearly visible a thousand yards away. Targets had become much smaller and more difficult to hit, especially now that brightly coloured uniforms had been replaced by khaki, field grey and olive drab. Thus, despite the improved accuracy of rifles, snipers were often forced to operate at more limited ranges to ensure a kill.

— page 36, Sniper, by Adrian Gilbert

Bullgrit

Continued from yesterday.

I sat in the darkened theater in 1999, surrounded by other Star Wars fans (and their loved ones they dragged to the opening showing), and watched my beloved sci-fi/fantasy universe crumble. In a word, this latest movie, The Phantom Menace, the first prequel to the original story, absolutely SUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCKED.

At the end of the movie, I sat there among a few hundred folks, and thought, Oh my God. That was awful.

But a woman in the seat right in front of me exclaimed in happiness, “It was just like the first movies!” This exactly opposite reaction from someone threw me off a few moments. How could anyone like that crap? How could they liken it to the first movies?

I went back and watched the movie again a week later, in hopes that maybe I just missed things, or wasn’t in the right frame of mind the first time I saw it. Nope. It still SUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCKED.

I’ve seen bits and pieces of it again since the theatrical release (I’ve not rented it or in any way paid money or wasted otherwise useful time on it) and I still totally hate the movie. I went to see the prequel-sequel movies Attack of the Clones (2002) and Revenge of the Sith (2005) totally out of a sense of completion rather than out of a desire to see the rest of the story. The story didn’t get any better. George Lucas can’t and shouldn’t be allowed to write a script. He’s got great ideas for a story, but his scripting is atrocious.

By this time in my life, I had two children – sons whom I expect to grow up into fine geeks like myself. My 8 year old is currently all into Star Wars, but unfortunately for me, the Star Wars story has progressed further than I’m up on, and in directions I’m no longer interested in following.

The story for Star Wars has gotten so damnably complicated with the prequel trilogy and the Clone Wars storyline. Good guys are bad guys (Rebel Alliance – Separatists), bad guys are good guys (stormtroopers – clone troopers), plots are backwards (Darth Vader returns to being Anakin Skywalker – Anakin Skywalker becomes Darth Vader), and the story is riddled with plot holes and canon inconsistency. George Lucas has thoroughly muddied up the Star Wars saga between the generations.

Right now, for my sons, the story of Star Wars comes from The Clone Wars. The characters and plots they know come from that one animated movie, which is based on and takes place between Episodes II and III. It’s very strange to say this, but this mixing up of the saga story has really put a generational gap in the series.

I’ve learned most of the names and characters and technology and mythology of the latest incarnations of the Star Wars tale, but they aren’t mine. Contemporary Star Wars is not my Nostalgic Star Wars. There is a strong boundary between the SW I grew up loving and playing and the version my kids are growing up loving and playing. To make it even odder, I have a great repulsion for the most recent SW compared to the great reverence for the old SW.

So, I guess my relationship with Star Wars can be summed up as “love/hate.” But I had to write all the above and previous before I could actually come to see this as it is.

Bullgrit