Queen for a Night
Somehow the conversation come up that there was a movie playing around that was about the events of the book of Esther. I hear it's pretty accurate for a romantic comedy. Well, I don't know if it's all that comedic, but I do hear they made Xerxes into a nice guy, so I figure that "romantic comedy" is probably pretty fitting.
Anyway, I think the film's called One Night with the King, but I keep getting mixed up and calling it Queen for a Night. Probably a matter of six in one hand, half-dozen in the other. In any case, this serves, I think, to highlight some of the weirdnesses of the story of Esther.
I'm not really sure where to begin, but let's talk essentials. Mordecai. Essentially a pimp? Who whores his cousin out to the king, knowing that he'll think she's hot and that maybe this could work to someone's advantage somewhere down the line. Esther. Essentially Xerxes's flavour of the night? With how often she saw the king and what a big deal it was when she did, we can assume that she was just one in a cast of thousands.
Let's forget about the weirdness of Mordecai grooming his cousin who he cares for like a daughter to be meat for the Persian king. Let's try not to think about how one might prepare a girl to really excel at that position.
What I'm curious about is how Mordecai can justify his action in light of his religion. Under the Mosaic covenant, the children of Israel were forbidden to intermarry with the pagan. That was a very bad thing and caused, really, the downfall of the nation. So, what is Mordecai thinking, by preparing his Jewish cousin to be bed-buddies with the king of the pagan empire? I can think of only two probable conclusions: a) he was a bad, bad man whose inadequacies we gloss over because we're willing to let the end justify the means in this case; or b) the Mosaic covenant was no longer applicable, as the Israelites had already received the final execution of its sanctions.
Anyway, I'd like to raise a toast this Valentine's Day to Esther: Queen for a night. Or three. Suffice it to say: cultures are weird.
Jonathan Coulton was born to a pack of roaming gypsies in the arid wastelands of Coulchester, Connecticut back in the '40s. As a young man in his mid-to-ambiguous-twenties, he developed a taste for application programming using VB .NET. Sensibly, he found such tastes to be soul-sucking and through pale, hollowed eyes, he glimpsed a dream. A dream that included occasionally playing soul-crushing (in an inspiring way) music at venues that prohibit my attendance via difficulties with time and space. It should also be noted that as yet, he has no entry on the 
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Bigby is great. Let me get that out of the way from the outset. He's got this deep sense of purpose. He's patient and cunning. He's brave and strong. He's high adventure, secret intrigue, and noir potboiler in a single, perfect package. He's a lover and a fighter. And he doesn't beat around the bush. He's invincible and vulnerable all at once. He's the king of wolves and he believes in marriage. And that is just rad.
Yotsuba is that pure kind of childhood that all of us wish we remembered and none of us ever really had. She's undiluted by the world around her. Pure. She takes the goofiness of this world and, by her other-ness, shows it for what it truly is: goofy.
When Barbara and Karl Kesel were writing Hawk and Dove, they brought to life a Dove who I could immediately respect. Dawn Granger was smart, sharp-witted, and actually had a personality. It would have been too easy for her to be just a girl in a painted-on costume who behaved as an automatic writing for the Lords of Order. But she was too good for that.
What strikes me first about Usagi Miyamoto is that he is humble. Honestly humble. Not that fake sort of humility you get with Superman where he pretends to be weak to fit in. Usagi is one of the better swordsman wandering the countryside of a feudal Japan peopled by anthropomorphic animals; and yet he willingly subverts his skills until needed not because he wants so desperately to fit in, but because his humility is hard earned. Once proud, he learned to respect the value of life. He learned that his talents were not enough to make him the best. He learned that he had ever so much more to learn. He learned that he is no better than those among whom he sojourns. And that is something special.
Hellboy is the kinda guy whom we would describe as a galoot. Or if not "we" then certainly someone from a bygone era of American history would have. He's enormous and has a fitting weight upon his shoulders - the weight of knowing he shall bring the world to an end - and he approaches this with a certain devil-may-care attitude. He reminds me of what the Thing would be if he were less a caricature than he is. Oh, and if he was a demon, of course.
Jack Knight is exactly the kinda guy I can relate to. Relentlessly hip in an entirely trivial way. Dearly attached to cultures that don't exist. And he appreciates a good Hawaiian shirt. Of all my favourites, he was always the most reluctant hero. It was a joy to watch his story unfold over the course of eighty or so chapters.
Poor little Virginia Applejack. She carries about her the scent of doom, of a life that's fated for catastrophe. Still, she's scrappy and she's tough and she's too big for her britches and really, in the end, she'll kick your butt. It may take a while for her to get around to it but sooner or later, she'll take a swing at your head with a baseball bat. Unless she's protecting you, that is. Respect.
Bartleby, in a classic struggle between nature vs. nurture, overcomes his carnivorous tendencies to become the Bone cousins' most stalwart ally. Really, besides being a foil for Smiley Bone (and cute as a button), he just wants to help. And he probably wouldn't ever touch a quiche.
The blind lawyer/vigilante may be Marvel's greatest creation. Spider-Man's is a good character and fun to read and identify with, but Daredevil is just plain intriguing. He believes deeply in the American judicial process and the Rule of Law; but simultaneously, he circumvents the law daily in his vigilante activities, and in so doing, admits that the Rule of Law is flawed. Plus he's blind. Like justice. Get it? Really, it kind of depends on who's writing him, but in the hands of Bendis or Nocenti, he is an awesome read.
I know it's cheating but the Osaka from the comic and the Osaka from the tv adaptation of the comic blend into one for me and I hear the English voice actress for Osaka every time I read her lines in the books (like how I now hear Johnny Depp every time I read something by Hunter S. Thompson). And that = rad. It's funny too, because I read the books before I ever saw the show. I think the show just jived so well with what was in my head that it immediately became Right. In any case, I think I have a thing for seemingly dumb-but-funny characters, who then turn out to be not so dumb but only different (I also adore Roger from BPRD and Smiley Bone from Bone). In any case, Osaka is the reason to read/watch Azumanga Daioh.
Liz carries just the right mix of melancholy and humour to be truly horrified by herself but still find genuinely rich friendship in the company of Hellboy and Abe Sapien. She's somber and morose and with good reason. But there's still something in there that wants to escape the horror and the moping. And it's that spark in her that I love.
I'm so stoked beyond belief that someone would name their daughter Knives that it hardly even matters what her character is. Fortunately, she's nice and sweet and I just feel bad for her and want to root for her. I'm conflicted because I'm mad at Scott for dumping a girl named Knives, but I understand why he did it. *shrug* Poor little Knives Chau.
Really, it's pretty hard not to like Spider-Man. He's one of the best characters ever created. He's iconic without really having much of an icon. It's really hard to get around his origin theme: With great power comes great responsibility. When I got to the end of Jack Knight's story, I couldn't help comparing him to Spider-Man and asking, How will he sleep, knowing that he had the power to help and gave it up? Spider-Man's power is both oppressive and fun for him. It's the bane and boon of his existence. He should be in therapy, but he's too busy saving your life.
Sam Smith is exactly who I'd want to be if they made a comic of my life. He's unassuming and average. Yet, when things crank up and the world around him falls apart, he's right there, poking life and fate in the eye with a sharp stick. He gots moxie, this guy. And he gots it in spades.
Really, the only reason anything in Bone turns out alright in the end is because of this guy. When Gran'ma Ben and Thorn are acting like ninnies, playing the melodramatic card, this little guy plods forth with a resolve unmatched. He's kinda like Sam Smith in that way. Both Thorn and her grandmother, Rose, have powers and abilities - and the still mess things up. Fone Bone's got none of that, but what he does have is determination founded in love. This guy is the real deal.
