(In case you missed it elsewhere, I’m running a GoFundMe campaign to read and review ever issue of Marvel Comic’s Civil War crossover event prior to Captain America 3: Civil War hitting Theaters the beginning of May. This is the first of many reviews to come.)
So, here we are. I’ve committed to reading and reviewing every issue of Civil War over the coming months. Before we get to Civil War proper, we have to travel The Road To Civil War, and boy, the Comics Gods can be fickle and unkind.
I had sorta blanked out the fact that J. Michael Straczynski was the guy guiding Spider-Man through most of the 2000’s, and then BAM, I open up the first comic on my list, The Amazing Spider-Man 529, and JMS hits me in the face like a brick.
As you may recall, Civil War coincided with the Iron Spider years, and this issue is where it all begins. JMS goes hard, starting with an, “Oh, that scamp Tony Stark” joke that just hasn’t aged well AT ALL (translation: It’s hella skeevy to even joke with your buddies wife that there’s a camera in the bedroom, Tony. YOU SHOULD KNOW THIS!). After that awfulness, we move to Tony putting the finishing touches on a new suit for Spider-Man. In a rather familiar Red and Gold color scheme, naturally.
The rest of the issue is mostly Spidey taking the suit out for a test-drive, with plenty of justification for all the fancy gizmos and doodads Stark threw into this new suit, including: glide capabilities, thermal imaging, police band radio, and even being bulletproof. I had honestly forgotten that JMS was decent back in those days, and really enjoyed this bit of the comic. His Peter Parker is on point, humor-wise, and once you get past the sequence being an obvious commercial for Spidey 2.0, it’s a solid piece of comic-ry. (Comicness? Comicsosity? I dunno, you know what i mean.)
Post test-drive, things get dicey. After Tony’s taking Peter and Mary Jane in, protecting them, then giving Peter this snazzy new suit, Peter’s spider-sense has gotta be tingling, and rightfully so. As soon as Peter pushes the issue and asks Tony, “Why?”, we see that Tony has an ulterior motive. He butters Peter up with talk of them both being the same type of person, and how he considers Peter and MJ family and all that, before asking Peter to swear a “blood oath” to him (no really, look at the panel below), the details of which have to be kept from everyone. Thanks to Tony’s heavy manipulation, Peter immediately accepts. Then this bombshell of a last panel is dropped, and the boys are off to Washington. dun dun DUUUUNNNNNNNNN
Tony has always been the (sorta) lovable, womanizing asshole living off dad’s money who just so happens to be one of the smartest guys ever, but he’s next-level manipulative here. Peter Parker is the smart but awkward guy who tries really hard and has lost all the father figures in his life. Tony works that angle to perfection; ensuring that if Peter responds with anything other than, “Yes!”, he can play the “disappointed Dad card” to secure Peter’s loyalty. This really just scratches the surface of how awful Tony will get as this series goes on.
That about does it for today. Next up, The Road to Civil War continues with Fantastic Four 536 written by……Straczynski again? Welp, liver, this is what we’ve been training for. See you back here tomorrow.
Greetings and salutations, internets. Chris Novus here. Now, I’m sure you’re all wondering who the fuck that is, and what happened to grumpyhawk, and I’m here to explain just that. To do so, we need to go back almost 8 years. I was working my first digital marketing job, and having recently joined Twitter, would occasionally vent (shocking, I know) about work stuff. While never using any identifying information or anything like that, you could put the pieces together if you were paying attention.
That was all well and good, till I learned through the grapevine that corporate was monitoring all online activity for all employees. Being sufficiently panicked. I deleted my twitter, and started a brand new one, not associated with anything “me” related. I kept trying different names, only to discover they were already taken. After a bit, I finally settled on grumpyhawk, in part because, especially at that time, I was surly and grumpy most of the time. On top of that, I had recently taken the plunge on the whole mohawk thing, so it seemed a perfect fit.
This was right around when, at least in the circles I kept, twitter started blowing up, and we started using it for day job things too. New marketing info, blog posts, etc… I left the increasingly awful first job to come to Austin and work with some friends, who had already started calling me grumpyhawk at the office or when we were just hanging out (Hi, Nate! Hi, Timothy!).
When I decided to sort of make the break between “day job me” and “nerd/tech/futurist me”, sticking with grumpyhawk made a ton of sense. In a big way, it became a character I could inhabit and use as a sort of armor. I started going exclusively by grumpyhawk for anything that wasn’t day job related; in fact, there are people who were part of Your Nerd Is Showing Media who only know me as grumpyhawk, that’s how committed I was to the thing.
It turns out, though, that words are important. Like, yes, words are important, right? We all know this! But, when referring to yourself, and what you make your “personal brand” is important. I’ve been at the point for the last year or so where I’ve been claiming bad, excessive things on “grumpyhawk” “Oh, it’s ok, “Chris” isn’t ranty and angry and grumpy all the time, that’s “grumpyhawk”. Problem is, lines blur, and while I was using it as an out, I was also starting to live into that more and more. Plus, if I’m being perfectly honest, having to explain the name every fucking time I met someone is getting tiring.
Now don’t get me wrong, I know me, I’m never gonna be sunshine and unicorns all the time. It’s just not gonna happen, but, as everything else in my life is in flux right now (Closing down YNIS, changing jobs, refocusing more on my futurist/transhumanist tendencies), it feels like the time to have a bit of a fresh start. A new beginning. (Maybe.)
(Thanks to the 3 of you who read this far; hi mom) All of that to say I’ve chosen a new name for myself. From here on out, you can call me Chris Novus. It’s still not my drivers license name, but it has meaning to me, and it reflects the direction I want to take my life in. After all, Novus is Latin for new, and what’s newer and more focused on where we’re headed than the futurist and transhumanist communities.
If you’re already following me on Twitter, congrats! Thanks to them thinking about things like this, I can change my username there, and it automatically updates, so you’re still following me. I’m going to TRY changing my name on Facebook, but, you know how they are, and if I get popped, I may have to lay low for a bit and try again later. Everywhere else has made the name change pretty easily, so, just look for Chris Novus on whichever service you want to find me on. Chance is I’m there. Thanks for reading, now lets go build and/or steal the future we wanna see!
Our first year of marriage was a bit…different than most. Instead of the typical learning how to live with another person and small arguments about toothpaste tubes and how to put up a new roll of toilet paper (over. the answer is always over), we had to deal with my having life changing back surgery 3 months into the marriage.
Andrea went through it all like a champ; she always has. As someone with multiple chronic health issues, It’s one of the many things I love about her. Rather than letting me just wallow in my pain and suffering, she helped me get through the healing process, taking care of me along the way and kicking my ass when I needed it.
Fast forward a few months, and we’re closing in on Valentine’s Day. I’m feeling better, but nowhere near great yet, and have stored up my energy to go with my lovely wife and a friend of ours to the mall. For weeks I’d been trying to figure out the perfect gift, not only because it was our first married Valentine’s Day, but also because I wanted to do something amazing for Andrea because she’d been so incredible.
The whole time we were walking around, I kept running through my options, and kept coming back to the thought that we both grew up with pets (Andrea, at various time, having dogs, goats, and rabbits, among others), and wanted an animal of our own.
That’s when it hit me (likely in at least small part thanks to some kick ass pain meds). A pet is the gift that keeps on giving right? We should TOTALLY get a rabbit.
I mentioned this to Andrea, and her face lit up in that beautiful way that is does, and an hour or so later, we were headed home with a little bunny pal of our own. (Before anyone yells at me, I know now that mall pet shops are far from ideal, and we probably should’ve gotten him from somewhere else, but as you’ll recall, KICK. ASS. PAIN. DRUGS. and the fact that we barely got out of the house at the time because of me.)
From the very beginning, even when we were deciding on which one to take home with us, Flip-Flop stood out as happy but stubborn. Even our trip home with this little bunny head poking out the top of the cardboard box he was in every few seconds is seared in my brain, in part because ADORABLE, RIGHT? and because we didn’t want him to hop out of the box and hurt himself.
Those early years with him were especially…, let’s just say challenging (but ultimately a blast). He was a little daredevil, and there were many times we’d be chilling in the living room and see a flying ball of fur come careening into the room. Or even have to rescue him from precarious situations (like the time he got to to the top of a pile of boxes close to the ceiling, and then couldn’t get down).
We also learned what foods we could, and could not, eat around him. I was unable to eat an apple in peace for those first few years, as even the scent of one being cut up meant you had a determined little bunny dude trying everything he could to get to a slice of apple before it made it to your mouth. Really, fruit of any kind would send him into a frenzy that made me glad rabbits are vegan.
When he was younger, he actually wasn’t much of a snuggler; he barely like being picked up. We both think it was just an excess of energy, as he would occasionally burst into laps around our coffee table, just because. Again, ALL OF THE ADORABLE.
Lest you think this is all about me, he was great for Andrea too. They shared many a long night in our office, her at the computer, him at her feet. When she was getting ready in the mornings, he was her constant companion, an onlooker as she got dressed, put makeup, did her hair, and whatever else. As much as I loved having him up on the bed, she did as well, and from time to time he would just sneak up on the bed, and stretch out contentedly between the two of us, awaiting all the scratches and snuggles he knew he’d get from us both.
As he got older though, he started chilling out a bit, and letting us pick him up and hold him. (ok, he still freaked out about picking him up, but once he was in my arms he’d calm down) Thanks to my back still being in rough shape, I still spend a fair amount of time laying down in bed, but I started to have company. I’d be laying there reading or watching something, and seemingly out of thin air poof a bunny would land on my chest. I’m sure at least part of it was he knew I’d break down and give him a treat or two, but I also think he genuinely enjoyed hanging out.
While being cute, this started to serve another purpose too. I’ve been pretty open about my mental health issues and the sort of break down I had a few years ago, and I discovered that “bunny time” could be pretty therapeutic. I could be in the middle of a serious depressive episode, but no matter how bad it was, that giant hop appearing bunny would make me chuckle or smile. I got to where I looked forward to a few minutes with him each night, rubbing his jaw just like he liked it or “hypnotizing” him by petting the middle of his head. It gave me something to do that was outside myself, and I always felt a little better after we hung out.
A few months back, we woke up to him being way unsteady on his feet and super lethargic, i.e. not himself at all. We both freaked out, because he was almost 9, and bunnies just don’t live forever (yet). Turns out, because he was an old man, he developed some arthritis, and once we started give him some medication for that, he was back to normal. phew Bullet dodged, we nursed him back to normal and life resumed.
When Andrea woke up this morning, she knew something wasn’t right. Normally we feed him first thing (have I mentioned he likes to eat?), because if you don’t, he runs little circles around your feet until the food dish is filled. This morning, however, he had zero interest in eating. Like, turned his face away from the bowl and everything. I woke up a bit later, and Andrea shared her concern. We picked him up, which went easier than normal (uh-oh), and I hung out with him on the bed for a bit.
We got even more worried when he refused a treat too. He normally goes batshit crazy for the things, but even when I held it right next to his mouth, he just kinda sat there. Still, we had been through something like this before, and figured he just needed some help from the vet and he’d be fine. After getting an exam, the vet said his belly felt a bit off and they needed to run some tests. Still thinking he’d be alright, we left him there and ran to lunch.
When we got back to the vet’s office, the nurse said we needed to “talk” about the results of these tests. I still tried to think happy thoughts, but Andrea had an inkling that something was wrong. The doc came in a few minutes later and confirmed our worst fears. Sometime in the early morning, a small rupture had formed in his stomach, causing the contents of his stomach to leak into the rest of him. We sat there choking back tears as she explained that most owners don’t even catch when something like this happens, and rarely, if ever, do bunnies come back from an injury this severe.
Tearfully, we agreed with the vet’s assessment that there was nothing more that could be done, and he would need to be euthanized. It’s here I want to give a shout out to White Rock Veterinary Clinic in Pflugerville. They were incredibly sensitive to the situation, and let us spend some time with our tough little guy before prepping him for the procedure. Even after they did their thing, we were allowed some final moments with him in each of our arms before starting the injections. Once he was on the table, we were right there next to him, and with the doctor talking so soothingly and calmingly to him, she started.
There were some complications (nothing painful to him), but ultimately, we were there and petting him through most his initial sedation and as his breathing slowed. Though short-lived, the pain he was in from his stomach was finally over, and we said goodbye.
No matter how much you try to prepare for something like this, you really can’t. Even though it was the right call, and he’s out of pain, it feels like a piece of me got torn out, and I know Andrea feels the same way. This is the way of the human/pet relationship though. You go into it knowing that you will outlive this other living being that brightens your day. All you can do is cherish the time you have together and hope (know?) that they loved you as much as you loved them.
Goodbye fluffy friend, you will be forever missed.
Shout out to all the friends who have taken care of him over the years and were a part of giving him the best little life a bunny could have.
If ever you’re unsure of how startup founders feel about their employees, look no further than this version of Settlers of Catan Reid Hoffman (founder of LinkedIn) commissioned this year, called The Startups of Silicon Valley. Hoffman has previously sung the praises of Catan as being popular with the “technorati” because it “closely approximates entrepreneurial strategy.” It should be noted that many of those words, whether strung together or examined individually, are just buzzwords, used to invoke the appearance of intelligence and superiority. It could be that the aspect of Catan Hoffman embodies most is his ability to speak a completely foreign language while living among the rest of us.
This leads us to further problem with StartUp Culture. If you’re not working 24/7, you’re dead and might as well give up. It’s a weird twisted headspace founders and indoctrinated into that’s designed to squeeze profit or gain out of every bit of your life. You’re not just playing a game, you’re learning skills to crush your competition. You’re not just watching TV, you’re analyzing the plot to see if you can learn something to give you an edge with an investor tomorrow. Meditation? It’s not an exercise to help you cope with stress, or gain a moment’s peace. It’s a tool you can use to make yourself even more productive, and clear headed so you can get back to writing code for another 8 hours. Enjoyment for enjoyment’s sake is verboten, and with sites like ThinkGeek, an entire cottage industry exists to sell productivity back to the workforce. Capitalism everyone!
While creating a special version of a game for your friends in and of itself isn’t really a big deal, it’s the changes made for this FounderBros™ edition that are liable to make one’s head explode with rage. To be fair, some of the changes make sense, such as updating robbers to disrupters, or havingproducts instead of settlements. Both of these updates take a big step away from the romanticized colonialism that is Catan’s stock-in-trade, and allow the game to be played without the nostalgia for conquering the untamed frontier.
Then there’s including customers as a commodity. Nothing makes your users feel warm and fuzzy like being the stand-in for brick. BRICK. I guess from most founder’s perspective, this is exactly what users are. The most important metric isn’t if users are loyal or if they’re actually using your product in a meaningful way, it all comes to ACQUIRE ALL THE USERS. In that kind of environment, where exponential growth is not only expected but required, why concern yourself with anything more than that user number going up and to the right.
As if that wasn’t bad enough, the wheat commodity becomes talent. Not employees. Not people. Talent. There’s a shitty bit of linguistic gymnastics there, abstracting the folks who pour their blood, sweat, and tears into your company into talent. Looking at your employees this way discounts individual contributions and leads to “sanding off rough edges” (translation: getting rid of anyone who has skills that can’t be quantified). It seems to stand in stark contrast to the public facing appearance Silicon Valley likes to put forth, that of a haven for creative people and those who don’t fit in normal corporate culture, but in reality it’s the same old-same old with a fresh coat of paint.
PEOPLE. ARE. NOT. COMMODITIES.
This line of thought, that people as just one more resource to be exploited, is essentially the same mindset that leads to atrocities like human trafficking. “That’s not a human being I just sold, it’s a product to be sold to the highest bidder.” To a lesser extent, it’s what drives the culture of unpaid interns that companies now have. Far from being just a learning experience, many internships are designed to exploit the student (who may not know any better) and get thousands and thousands of dollars worth of free labor out of them. This attitude isn’t just limited to tech/corporate culture either. Thousands of migrant workers are made to work in deplorable conditions, held captive in remote, hard to reach locations, with only the company store to provide for them, abused, all in an effort to provide for themselves and their families. Sure, every year or so we read about the government stepping in and slapping fines on a company here or there, but it’s not as though anything really changes. Whether you’re talking interns, migrant labor, or even human trafficking, it all comes down to those in power having a sense of entitlement to the labor of others; that talent is a naturally-occurring commodity that just replenishes on its own and needs to be harvested lest it, gasp, go to waste without profit.
Sadly, this sort of attitude seems to be quite common in the startup world. Not a week goes by that I don’t hear some story about a founder who drives his people insanely hard. Statements like “I know what I want and will not settle for anything less” and “My way or the highway” are common in tech startups, as though every founder is a high-ranking mage who’s uncovered the secret to existence and in turn become the arbiter of success. Every startup assumes it’s an island, and unconnected to the industry around it, which gives it the incentive to boot people at will. In reality, though, much like Catan, it is part of a larger continent of economics, and the entitlement of one enables the entitlement and violence of all.
If, as a founder, you see your employees as talent, it lets you keep emotion out of things, and reduces human beings into one more lever you can push/pull to inflate your bottom line. Revenue dipping? Time to divest some of your talent. Things not moving fast enough? Force the talent to spend 80+ hours chained to their desk, labor laws/common decency be damned. If you think things this never happens, read some of the many horrorstoriesfromgamedevelopersandstartupsingeneralregarding “crunch time“.
Along with several scandals relating to start culture excess, the tone-deafness of The Startups of Silicon Valley should cast serious doubt on startup culture’s claims of being a benevolent societal force; working for the good of humanity, or least making your life a bit easier. The root of the culture they’re creating and perpetuating is no different that the what’s been in place for hundreds of years: Exploit those who work for you as long as you can for as much profit as you can, their welfare be damned.
I get it: sometimes jobs require extra hours, that’s to be expected. There needs to be a distinction, though, between “this task requires extra labor” and “this culture/society requires this labor for which you will not be adequately appreciated for, lest you rock the boat of this perfect brand new society”. The people doing those jobs are still human being, and pushing folks to their physical and mental breaking points just can’t be part of business as usual or your success plan. It just can’t. If we, as a culture, are going to break away from this dark path we’re headed down, we have to start taking a stand and stop letting these modern day feudal emperors treat us like so much wheat.
I’ve decided to bring over some of my older posts from both my old site and the YNIS site. This is one of those.
So, those of you that follow me here or on Twitter know I’ve been going through some stuff. Short version: I’ve dealt with some significant back pain for the last 8 years. I had surgery to remove part of a bulging disc in 2006, and the pain got better. Not gone, but better. I still had days that were rough, but was functional again.
Fast forward to fall 2010. The pain started getting pretty bad again. It got to the point that I basically lived on an air mattress in our tiny apartment’s living room. After working with a pain management specialist and trying just about everything, it was determined that I needed another surgery, a fusion at L4-L5.
The recovery from that surgery was particularly rough, but I survived and the pain got better for a time. Still not 100% gone, but completely tolerable. I figured this was about as good as things would get. Sadly, it didn’t stay that way.
Starting in July 2012, the pain came back with a fucking vengeance. It hurt to walk, stand, sit, lay down, you name it. The surgeon ran a bunch of tests, only to decide he didn’t see anything wrong, and that I should take it easy and hope things got better. They didn’t.
Since then, I’ve been fighting severe pain off and on. I would have a few good days, or even a week, but invariably, the pain returned. Pain medication became an almost daily part of my life. I started having to use a cane just to get around, even for short trips. I did my best to bite the bullet and still go do things despite the pain, but most of the time I’d have to bail early.
I was able to make it to SXSWi this past March, thanks to shear determination and copious amounts of pain medication. I basically tried to take the free cars or shuttles around as much as possible, and stay in the same general area for a while each time. Anyway, post south-by, the pain just wouldn’t go away. I remember mrs. hawk and I took a trip to see some family, but I ended up spending the majority of that trip in the hotel room. If I did go do anything, I’d have to cut it short to go lay down in the car.
For the first time in all my battles with pain, I started feeling suicidal. The pain was just too much, and I couldn’t handle it anymore. I remember laying on the hotel bed in agony, and starting to look around the room to find something to end the pain with. I didn’t actually go through with anything, but it was a thought that wouldn’t go away.
I talked to mrs. hawk, my therapist, and a couple of close friends, since that felt like something I shouldn’t keep to myself. Everyone was concerned and super supportive, which helped. Unfortunately, neither the thoughts or pain would go away.
It got to the point that I remember one day the pain was particularly bad, I was standing in the work kitchen holding the one kitchen knife we have, contemplating the most effective ways to use it to end things. I ran my thumb over the blade, only to discover it wasn’t sharp enough to do anything. At that point, I put the blade down and went back to my desk and just kinda broke down. I didn’t tell anyone about that incident until a few days later, as I felt ashamed I had gotten to that point.
After discussing it with my therapist and wife, I decided I needed more help staying safe, and agreed to go inpatient at a metal hospital. As terrifying a prospect as that seemed, I knew it was the right decision.
The time at the hospital was weird, but very helpful. For the first time in years, I didn’t have any personal electronics with me. No phone, no computer, no kindle, no iPad, no anything. I felt disconnected to the outside world which, in a way, was a good thing. The doctors there worked with me on medication and coping strategies, and I left a week or so later.
While the pain got a bit better for a few days there, it’s all come crashing back down on me. Most days, it’s a struggle just to force myself to go to work and sit upright for 8 hours. By the end of the day, I’m just a ball of pain. Some days, like today, the pain is almost unbearable from the time I wake up through the rest of the day. Lemme tell you, nothing quite so distracting as pain on a 7-8 out 10 scale.
I’m not really sure why I’m sharing all this, other than to just let folks know where I’m at and why I may seem more on edge some days, or seem fragile and whiny. I do my best to push through and deal with things on my own, but sometimes that’s just too hard, and it bleeds over into the rest of my life.
If anyone reading this is going through the same type of thing, just know, you’re not alone. By no means am I saying the pain is over, or the suicidal thoughts are gone, but I can say I’m fighting both of those as best I can, and I hope you can do the same.
For as long as I can remember, I’ve had a longstanding love affair obsession with the written word. My mom tells stories of 4 year old grumpyhawk annoying the crap out of my Pre-Kindergarten teachers because, while they were try to teach the other students how to sound out and read words, I was talking about sentences and wanting to read books. Even as a young kid, trips to the local library were one of my favorite things.
I got older, and my health took a turn for the worse. I was diagnosed with Type I diabetes right as I turned 13. On top of that, I had a long stretch of time where I just couldn’t seem to function on a daily basis. Getting out of bed was a monumental accomplishment, and trips outside left me drained. Doctors eventually diagnosed it as chronic fatigue, but that was mostly because they didn’t really know what was going on (fun, right?). Still, those weekly trips to the library were the highlight of my week, and one of the few things that forced me to get out of the house for an hour or so. I’d walk in, make a beeline for the new release science fiction section, and basically grab any book that hadn’t been there the last time, regardless of author or sub-genre.
Reading an amazing book became an escape for me. When I wasn’t fighting with my pancreas or overcome with exhaustion, Isaac Asimov, Ray Bradbury, Jeff Noon, Bruce Sterling and many more helped get me through. I know it’s cliché, but a well written book is something you can close your eyes and almost see. For at least a little while, I could forget all the health issues and problems they cause, and just experience another world. On top of the escape, I was exposed to new concepts in almost every book; transhumanism, robotics, computer programming, biology, chemistry, virtual reality; the list goes on and on. Many times, I’d read some idea and, in an effort to understand it better, look it up at the library the next time I was there (this was before the Internet was really a thing, kids, and you had to go to the library for things like that). Eventually, the chronic fatigue thing subsided, and I was able to join the outside world again. No matter how hectic things got, though, one thing never changed; I was always in the middle of reading at least one book.
Unfortunately, my health really isn’t that much better now. My pancreas still hates me, and I’ve got some major back issues (including multiple surgeries to try and fix the problem.) To this day, a good book is still an escape for me; almost a form of therapy. For at least a few hours here and there, my overactive brain can be somewhere else and not focused on the pain I am almost certainly experiencing, or fretting over my diabetes being messed up for some reason. I will eternally be grateful to my parents for instilling that love of reading in me at a very early age, and fostering it in me as I grew up.