BRAINPAN LEAKAGE

123-4567?

987-6543?

566-3714?

I’ll be honest… I actually had some trouble deciding what title to use for this blog entry. (By the way – it will become apparent in about 4.33632 seconds that this entry is NOT about Jenny by Tommy Tutone…)

Other possible titles were:

1. “Been There, Done That…”
2. “Neener, Neener, We Were Here First…”
3. “She’s Got Legs…”
4. “160? Is That All I Get?”
5. “Blackberry? Isn’t That A Kind Of Cobbler?”

Of course, #3 was my personal favorite, but I suspect that was pretty obvious. As to how any of these potential titles fit in with 867-5309, or even how 867-5309 fits in with this blog entry for that matter…well, read on and I’m betting it will make sense at some point…

Of course, you know me. The “when” it will make sense might be a long time coming – reading-wise, that is – so, you might want to hit the restroom, refill your coffee, then get comfortable. Don’t worry, I’ll wait…

(do do, do Doo, do da, DOOOOO… do do, do Doo, DOOOP, Do doodle doodle, do do, do da, Doo, do do, DOOOOO, DOOP, Do doodle doodle DOOP, Do doooooo….) [give me a break… have you ever tried to convert the Jeopardy theme music to text? It ain’t easy, let me tell ya’…]

Okay, so everyone back? Got your drinks? Settled in? Good…

So… Since we are on the subject of converting things to text, I had occasion to spend a bit of time text messaging the other day. Now, I realize that a whole raft of you are adopting your best sarcastic voice and saying, “Yeah, good on ya’, Sellars. So you texted… You want a medal or something?”

Well… not a medal per se… How about if I put it into perspective.  You see, E K and I have cell phones… (Okay, okay, bite your tongues for a second here, I realize that’s not a big deal or anything)… The truth is, I have had a “mobile phone” since they were bigger than a breadbox and stayed permanently attached to your car. It was one of those technician things… Then, years later I upgraded to a bag phone – anyone remember those? Same as the car phone, but they stuffed all the crap into a glorified purse so you could drag it around with you. As an aside, I never did have one of the “pocket bricks” that were the size of a loaf of bread and qualified as the original “Cell Phone”… I just waited until cells were the size of double Whopper™ so that I wouldn’t have to wear a back brace while carrying it. (I’d already done enough of that lugging around the bag phone)… Of course, these days cell phones are only about a half inch shy of being the same thing as the communicator on Star Trek: The Next Generation… Just slap your chest and talk away… But, we aren’t there just yet.

Still, what started out as a somewhat flawed communications device attached to my car with a curly-q antenna has now morphed into this little flip open gizmo thingy about the size of a pack of cigarettes – actually, a little bit smaller I guess – that has eleventy-buh-jillion ring tones, takes pictures, surfs the web, acts like a PDA, and generally makes my life miserable…  And, of course, that is only because I am not packing around the latest and greatest innovation in personal communication such as a “chocolate covered blackberry moto razor iSomething-or-another”. Neither is E K. If we were, then we could probably fly the space shuttle remotely while listening to 47 gigabytes of MP3’s on top of all that stuff…

Now, I realize that may seem a bit odd – us not having the latest and greatest I mean – what with us both being techie types, even though I’ve retired from that segment of my life – well… in a professional sense, anyway… I still keep my finger in just in case I have to fall back on something… But, there goes that chicken again.

The point is, E K uses her cell primarily for work and emergencies. I use mine primarily for being able to call my girls – E K and the munchkin, obviously – when I am on the road touring and for emergencies. So, what does that mean? Well, pretty much it just means that we have a fairly basic calling plan. Ex-tee-ump minutes per month and that’s pretty much the extent of it. Therefore, we don’t “text” like most folks out there. For one, it costs us money. For two, well, we figure you call, say what you have to say, and there you go.

Now, it’s true that sometimes being able to send the equivalent of an “email” or “instant message” is an attractive option. I am more than willing to admit that fact. Perhaps the person you are trying to contact is in the middle of something and all you need to do is deliver a quick, “gonna be late for dinner” or something like that. So, I can see the allure. But, it’s just not something E K and I have ever really done…

So, here we are back around to the fact that I did do some texting the other day… No, I’m still not asking for a medal, but I think maybe you can see where this is kinda like getting your grandmother to try chicken tikka masala for the first time. It was a big deal for me to do this… Old dog, new trick… yadda yadda…

Anyway, I suspect by now you are figuring that something obviously had to  exert some manner of influence upon me in order to force a situation where this whole texting thing would happen. Well, you’re correct. As it happens it was the FBI.

(Waiting patiently for the surprised gasps to settle…)

Okay… not to worry. It wasn’t the FBI as in the whole Federal Bureau of Investigation or me being in some kind of trouble (at least, not that they’ve told me about). It was a friend who works for the FBI. He was in town on business, but had some free time and wanted to hook up for lunch and to catch up, etc… As it happens, he texts quite a bit, so that is how he contacted me. And, me not knowing if he was in the middle of a meeting or some such, found it necessary to “answer” him by texting back instead of just calling.

Well, as you might guess, this presented a bit of an obstacle for me… As we’ve already established, I don’t text. Never really have…  So I had no idea where to start. Still, I spent 25+ years as a computer tech, so it shouldn’t be all that hard to figure out.

Following the prompts I pressed the button to reply and it gave me a blank little screen that awaited my message. At this point in one of those flash back-flash forward moments I found myself wanting to pull a “Scotty” from Star Trek IV: The Voyage Home, and just start talking to the damn thing. (Hmmmm… Nostalgia moment… I’m pretty sure I took E K to see that movie at the Northwest Plaza cinema back in ’86 shortly after we moved in together… I know, ignore the chicken, Sellars! Ignore the chicken!) Well, obviously I knew better than to babble at it, so I started poking around on the keys to make letters appear. After spending what was, I am absolutely certain, way too long to create a simple text message I succeeded in getting it sent. At this point, I was fairly proud of myself.

Seconds later, however, I was faced with receiving his reply, which in turn, deserved a reply… A bit longer reply.

Of course, I only had 160 characters. Well, that’s how it works on MY phone, at least… For all I know the rest of you texters out there can read this entire blog entry on your phone. (As an aside, are at least a couple of those potential titles starting to make sense yet?)

So, can you see where this is heading? Yeah, I know… The thing is, I didn’t want to do it, but I had no choice. Yes. I had to instantly teach myself a second language… Text Speak. I proceeded to reply with all of the necessary information required, however, I taught myself how to misspell things on the fly. I left out vowels, I replaced entire syllables with numeric values, I abbreviated, truncated, masticated, ameliorated, integrated, intimated, and generally adulterated the written word, all for the purpose of getting my point across in as few a characters and as quickly as possible. (the quickly part has to do with a whole ‘nother issue better left unblogged.)

Well, I don’t mind telling you, it was painful.

Really. I kept wanting to go back and fix the spelling errors and the like because the message looked like a teenage girl was sending a giggle-gram to her BFF (yeah, it seriously scares me that I know what a BFF is… I blame those cell phone commercials)…

But, I couldn’t… Fix the errors, that is… For one, I only had 160 characters to work with. For two, I would have been typing all day, being the inexperienced texter that I am. And, for three, I have no idea how they charge for these text messages, but I was already racking up enough of a bill as it was. If it was by the character, I would have been in deep crap…

I know… Right now you are saying to yourself, “Okay, Sellars… This little diatribe pretty much explains the “160” title and even the “Blackberry” title… But, what the hell does it have to do with the other three? Especially the one about legs?”

Glad you asked.

It was after I had labored over sending this series of text messages back and forth with my friend that something dawned on me. Kids today have this whole texting thing pretty damn easy… And, I mean besides the obvious part. You see, it was in that moment I realized I had been here, done this, worn a hole in the T-Shirt, long before the bulk of the “text generation” was even a glimmer in parental eyes.

You see, way back in the day, when dinosaurs roamed the earth and all that jazz – yeah, way back in the 80’s, we technicians carried numeric pagers. (before that we carried “beepers” that simply alerted us to call an answering service, but there goes a chicken again…) Numeric pagers were a marvel to us – yeah, I know, they even have text pagers these days. E K still carries on of those too… But, back to the numerics… They were a marvel to us because we could dial a number and punch in a number to call, so that the person being paged knew who to call instead of that extra step of calling the service, then calling the number, etc, etc… Remember, back then we didn’t have cell phones, we had to stop and find a payphone.

Okay… So we sent numbers to pagers… B F D… What does that have to do with anything? Well, being the industrious little geeks we were, we started figuring out little shortcuts. Anyone here ever watch Millennium? (that Megan Gallagher… man, I tell you…) My example here is that the main character, Frank Black, would get a simple page – “2000”. That was all it took and he would know the number to call. Well, us geeky types way back when were doing that sort of secret code paging even before Millennium came along…

It started simply enough – numeric codes established by service departments that would mean something to the tech receiving the page. Stuff like:

911 – Call the shop immediately

XXX-XXXX99 – (phone number appended with 99) Call this number ASAP.

XXX-XXXX – (just a phone number) Call this number, moderate priority.

XXX-XXXX00 – (phone number appended with 00) Call this number, low priority.

Of course, anything that starts out simply will eventually end up with layers of complexity that overwhelm the innate simpleness. Especially when electronics geeks are involved. Before long, more numbers were being added on to mean other things – almost like police call codes.

Then, it got really scary.

Anyone here remember that old joke you do with a calculator? The one where you tell a story while punching in a calculation for each element of the tale, and at the end you hit the = sign and have the punchline, which  is 71011345? or 55378008? (for those of you too young to remember this geekdom moment, if you turned the calculator upside down and looked at the display, the digital LED would be spelling out SHELL OIL or BOOB LESS… (it’s far more obvious with 7 segment LED’s than this particular font…)

So, did we spend the day saying SHELL OIL to one another, or calling each other BOOB LESS? Well, not really. There are actually a very limited number of things you can spell with inverted seven segment lettering, but we did manage to come up with a few initials that meant something.

And, what does this have to do with legs?

I knew you were going to ask that… Back when E K and I were dating, as well as during our cohabitation and early years of our marriage, there were times when I just wanted to let her know I was thinking about her. However, since there were no cell phones, and with her being in the field taking service calls that made it a bit hard. I didn’t want to cause her to pull over at a pay phone just for that.

Yeah, and?

I’m getting there… I’m getting there… As I’ve said many times before, I’m a leg guy, and E K has a fantastic pair said appendages. So, one of my fond nicknames for her, back then and even today, was/is LEGS.

Yeah, so you have a cutesy nickname for E K… Big deal… Just get to the point, Sellars…

Patience is a virtue, ya’know…

Well, to be honest I figured y’all would have been all over it by now…  But, just to cover all the bases, it’s as simple as this: Whenever I wanted to tell my dear and lovely I was thinking about her, I would simply page her with the following number: 5663714

On an upside down numeric pager that’s ancient, “First Generation Text Speak” for hi leggs:

Yeah, I know, the second “g” seems unnecessary, but remember, as mentioned in the Mahwage blog entries, she always wore Leggs brand stockings. Plus, without the extra digit in there, the “phone number” looked incomplete. And, well, since the pager belonged to the company it was our way of being “covert”…

I mean, what with E K actually being a sexy, dangerous, femme fatale secret agent* and all…

More to come…

Murv

* Regarding E K’s secret agent status. See blog entry: “Kay…Eeee Kay…” March 12, 2009

“With the success of shows like Millennium and Profiler, I suspect the Rowan Gant series should do very well…”

The above is a quote from a literary agent with whom I had dealings way back when I was searching out a home for the first RGI novel, Harm None and its then “proposed but not yet written” sequels. I will admit the sentence is slightly paraphrased because that was many years ago and I truly have no idea what happened to the original letter. Still, I can pretty much recall this particular quote because it really had an impact on me.

Why?

Simple. Because in that one sentence he put my works in the same class as Millennium. To me, this was the ultimate compliment… You see, I was – and still am – a huge fan of that series. And, yes, I also watched Profiler, but Millennium was the show that got under my skin and stayed there.

So, let’s look at that comparison for just a second…

The RGI novels are a dark, gritty, police procedural type series about Rowan Gant, a reluctant paranormal investigator turned police consultant who has uncanny insight into the crimes and serial offenders he helps investigate.

Millennium is a dark, gritty, police procedural type series about Frank Black, a former FBI Agent / Case Investigator, (AKA “Profiler”), who now works as a consultant and has uncanny insight into the crimes and serial offenders he helps investigate.

See any similarities there?

Now, I do need to point something out – I wrote Harm None before the first episode of Millennium ever aired. Granted, HN wasn’t published until 2000, but the long and painful road to publication is another story entirely, and one that many authors know all too well – and, yes, it really took that long to find a home for the RGI series… Yeah, I know… Seemed silly to me too.  Suffice it to say, there were plenty of rejection slips to be had before Harm None ever made it to bookstore shelves, but the above quote from a Lit Agent is what kept me going each time I hit a brick wall… Eventually, those walls started to crumble, and there was even a good deal of time spent negotiating with an acquisitions editor at Penguin-Putnam. Again, another story entirely, because I ended up with a different publisher.

However, my point here is that Rowan Gant is not based on Frank Black. And, before anyone gets in a tizzy, I’m not claiming the converse, either.  That would be pretty hard to accomplish unless Chris Carter, creator of the TV series, was sneaking into my house in the middle of the night and stealing my manuscripts. And, while I love a good conspiracy as much as the next person, I don’t think that one is very likely.

I do believe, however, that maybe Mister Carter and I happen to think quite a bit alike. Still, he took one fork in the road and I took the other – even if the two paths ended up running “kinda sorta” parallel in a sense.

For instance, while the two characters have these amazing, vision-like insights, Rowan Gant embraces the magick and mysticism behind his abilities, whereas Frank Black for the most part eschews the mysticism and embraces the science. There are many other points where they diverge, but I’m not going to prattle on about that… The reason being, I’m not really here to make a comparison.

I’m here to talk about Millennium and its fans…

Like I said earlier, I am one of those rabid fans. Just like Browncoats, those foaming at the mouth, done the impossible, die-hard fans of Firefly who managed to create enough noise to get Serenity made, a movie based on that particular prematurely canceled series. (As my regular readers know, I’m a Browncoat too.)

But, back to Millennium… I have the entire series on DVD – which includes the X-Files episode that gave us addicted types a glimpse of where Frank Black was heading once the series itself had been canceled after only three seasons. I’ve watched the whole set several times, and will watch  it several more times in the future. It just never gets old for me.

In addition to the series, I also have the soundtrack on CD at home, in my truck, and even a few ripped MP3’s on my computer and MP3 player.  (Mark Snow – great music…) I can’t tell you how many times I have used that MP3 player and more specifically, the extended version of the Millennium main title theme to drown out a chatty wingnut seated next to me on a long flight.

I had an Ouroboros screen saver with a progressive countdown to the Millennium… Back in the day, when I turned my computer on it would display, “Good morning / afternoon / evening, Murv. There are XXX days remaining…”

Every now and then you might even notice that I pay homage to Millennium in my blogs, either via a mention in the text, a reference, a quote, or even by the title of the entry itself.  For example, the upcoming installment, “Somehow Satan Got Behind Me…” While that particular post doesn’t actually have anything to do with Millennium, the title is borrowed from the title of episode 21 from season 2 of the show. The title for this entry is itself  a paraphrased line of dialogue from the classic tongue-in-cheek episode, “Jose Chung And The Doomsday Defense,” (episode 9, season 2)…

And, yes, I will admit it – I even have a limited edition Frank Black action figure, (produced by Sideshow Toys), still pristine in the box, that I hope to have Lance Henriksen autograph for me some day. (In case it isn’t immediately obvious, Mister Henriksen is the actor who portrayed Frank Black in the series). If I’m lucky, since I tend to get booked in to do signings at SF/Fantasy Conventions, maybe our paths will cross. Trust me, if I am ever scheduled for a con and I see that he is a guest there as well, I will definitely be packing the action figure in my suitcase. If it gets searched and the TSA folks laugh at me for being a grown man who is packing around a glorified GI Joe doll, so be it. I mean, after all, it’s Frank Black we’re talking about here…

And as an aside, on the note of dolls, I really wish they had also produced a Katherine Black action figure too, based  of course on Megan Gallagher. But then, as I’ve mentioned before, I have sort of a “thing” for Ms. Gallagher – nothing weird,  sicko, scary, or stalkerish, mind you… (and trust me, with the research I’ve done for the RGI novels, I know more about that sort of Psychopathology than I ever wanted…) The real deal is pretty simple… Of all the celebrity types out there, I just happen to find her exceptionally appealing. Probably because she – and moreover her character, Katherine Black – remind me of my wife, E K. Yeah, I know,  a character is a character. Trust me, I am intimately familiar with the whole transference thing. I can’t count how many times I have had people think that I am Rowan Gant, and I just write the stories. No acting involved.  And, I also know that Miz Gallagher and E K aren’t dead ringers for one another or anything of that sort, but they are both absolutely gorgeous, IMHO. However, as I’ve also said before, if I were to ever meet the woman in person I’d probably be so tongue-tied that I would look like an utter moron. So, it’s probably a good thing they didn’t produce a Katherine Black action figure, because if I had one, then had an opportunity to meet Miz Gallagher, I’d probably stand there stammering like a fool.  Therefore, she’d most likely run the other direction as quickly as possible and I’d never get it autographed.

Yeah, like I said, I’m a die hard Millennium fan…

So, at this point I am sure you are wondering why I am babbling about all this? Well, that’s simple. I know that some of you who read my books are Millennium fans as well. And, those of you who aren’t already familiar with the show would probably become fans right from episode one if you ever saw it. So, I would recommend picking up the DVD boxed sets and having yourself a Millennium marathon. It’s definitely more than worth it.

But, wait, there’s more…

Come on… You knew there would be.

Some time back I was “friended” on Myspace by “Back To Frank Black“… Most likely because Millennium is listed under “favorite TV shows” on my profile.  I gave their page a cursory look as I always do when I receive a friend request, but since I was in the middle of meeting a manuscript deadline I didn’t have time to really get into it. Now, while I’m deeply involved in a manuscript, my deadline isn’t looming as close as it was then, so I actually had an opportunity to look a bit closer.

Back To Frank Black turns out to be not only a fan created Myspace page, but a website and blog as well. What’s more, it is a fan-based movement. The page features interviews with Lance Henriksen, and others from the series such as Kristen Cloke and Sarah-Jane Redmond… Maybe they’ll interview Megan Gallagher sometime soon… Hey, a guy can dream can’t he?

But, let’s not digress in that direction…

The BTFB movement actually has a mission – that being to reach out to fans and create a groundswell of demand for a Millennium Movie, or even return of the series. While the original storyline was threaded with the coming Millennium, (at the time – it originally ran Fall 96 – Spring 99), it was truly based in the psychopathology of the hysteria stemming from that impending event. Such sociopathic behaviors have not disappeared simply because Y2K has come and gone. If anything, they may be worse.

Throughout history there have been a plethora of “doomsayers” and prophecies to fuel the fires of the unstable. This most certainly has not changed. For instance, we have 2012 on its way. Supposedly the end of time as we know it… And, trust me, that’s only the tip of the proverbial iceberg where End Times Prophecy is concerned. A quick search on the internet will show you that much… So, the story fodder here is endless…

Therefore… If you are a Millennium fan, do yourself a favor and run by backtofrankblack.com to check it out. If you aren’t yet a fan, then surf on by there anyway and have a look. The interviews are great, as are the fans.

And, if you are an RGI fan, I’m betting you’ll be all about Frank Black, and you’ll want to see his return as much as I, and countless other Millennium fans around the world.

To borrow from the series itself…

The time is near… The time is now.

This is who we are…

Murv