To Friends I’m Known as Monty, But to You I’m Mr Burns

A Stargate Tale

At work today I found myself in a rather difficult and somewhat distressing situation. Professional reasons prevent me from elaborating on the actual circumstances (which is a tease, I know), but my distress was much alleviated when I realised it was exactly the situation Mr Burns found himself in in an episode of The Simpsons.

This quite cheered me up, I mean if it (whatever ‘it’ may be) can happen to a fictional billionaire, then it can happen to anyone! πŸ˜€

(And no, I’m not going to give any hints as to the episode. But if you want to imagine me completely unshaven with tissue boxes on my feet, go ahead)

Anyway, that’s not the real reason for this post.

Many moons ago (for my sins) I wrote some Stargate fan fiction (most of which can still be seen in the dusty ruins of the Gate Room). Most of these stories were comical and written in response to various Fan Fic Challenges, but now and then I’d attempt something a bit more serious. One of these was a never completed story – which probably would have ended up being titled Dark Horizons – and the other day apparently for no reason at all it swam back into my consciousness.

Now, if I was willing to venture into the deepest jungles of my hard drive I could probably dig up what I actually wrote of it. However I don’t think I really wrote that much, and certainly not much worthy of publication. I could sit down and rewrite it, but frankly I don’t have the time. So I figured (as the plot is reasonably good – I think) I’d purge my creative ghosts by writing up a plot synopsis, and posting it here.

So here we go….

DARK HORIZONS – (A Synopsis of the Story that Might Have Been…)

We open in the gate room. The standard scene with guards standing around, and the Gate Technician Guy doing whatever the Gate Technician Guy does during his downtime. Suddenly the gate springs to life. The sirens go off, the guards grab their guns, the Iris slams shut, and the Gate Technician Guy yells “Unscheduled Offworld Activation!”. The General hurries down the stairs from the conference room.

An IDC is received and the Iris opens. Six serpent guards with staff weapons cocked stomp out and arrange themselves down the ramp. A tall figure with a golden tattoo on his forehead and dressed in elaborate armour steps through the gate and looks round imperiously. Up in the Control Room General Maybourne sighs and reflects on how much he hates diplomatic visits.

Cut to the conference room. The First Prime (unnamed but quite obviously Teal’c) is informing a nervous Maybourne that Lord Apophis is displeased with the SGC’s lack of progress. Maybourne protests that military operations on Kelowna (not what I had here originally, but what the heck) are going well, but Teal’c cuts him off, stating that Apophis is more interested in the hunt for the Tok’ra Dekmel (OK, I can’t actually remember what name I gave to the Tok’ra, but “Dekmel” will do for now – it sounds Tok’ra enough). Maybourne again protests and explains that he’s got teams sweeping every planet Dekmel has been reported on and that the operation will take time. Teal’c is unimpressed. He suggests that if progress isn’t made soon, Lord Apophis may reconsider the terms of “The Alliance”.

Cut to the home of Colonel Jack O’Neill (Retired). He is out on his deck, peering into a telescope aimed at the night sky – or more specifically at the Goa’uld mothership in permanent geosynchronous orbit above Colorado Springs. An Air Force Officer approaches. Presuming that a passer by has reported his activities, Jack explains that he has a permit for the telescope and can produce it if necessary. The Officer explains that he is being reactivated, effective immediately, and that he is to accompany him back to Cheyene Mountain. Jack reluctantly complies.

Cut to the corridors of the SGC. Jack and the Officer step out of a lift. The Officer gives Jack directions to the Conference Room, then heads off on other business. The facility seems much more militarised than we’re used to, and numerous Jaffa marked with the symbol of Apophis mingle with the troops. Jack wanders down the corridor, and quickly becomes lost. He asks a passing Captain for directions, explaining that the base has expanded substantially since his last visit. The Captain points him towards the Conference Room. He checks the tag on her uniform – which reads “Carter” – and thanks her by name, continuing on his way.

In the Conference room he is met by General Maybourne, and a team of various specialists. He is briefed on the search for the Tok’ra criminal Dekmel, and how vital his capture is to the Alliance. The latest reports indicate that Dekmel is back on Abydos, and since Jack led the first mission to the planet – a mission involving Dekmel’s host Doctor Daniel Jackson – the SGC believes he is the perfect man to track the Tok’ra down. Jack is reluctant, reminding Maybourne that the Abydos mission “didn’t go well”. Maybourne tells him refusal is not an option and orders him to undertake the mission.

We cut to Abydos where Jack is standing on the crest of a dune. It is night. From the condition of his clothing and gear it’s clear that he’s been on the planet for several days, if not weeks. He consults a map crudely drawn on a sheet of Papyrus, and looks down on a small oasis where a campfire burns. He draws his sidearm and walks down to the fire, where a figure wrapped in a desert robe typical of the Abydosians sits. As he approaches the figure greets him and pulls down the robe’s hood – it’s Daniel.

Jack rapidly trains his gun on the Tok’ra, and orders him to accompany him back to the Gate. Daniel/Dekmel seems unconcerned and bids him to sit down, pointing out that they’re the only ones there and there’s no hurry. Jack is unconvinced. Daniel/Dekmel points out that he’s being rude, and that on Abydos it’s tradition for old friends to share a drink on meeting. He offers a gourd jug. Jack refuses. Daniel/Dekmel laughs and claims poison is far too crude a method for him to use. He takes a swig himself and offers it again, pointing out that it’s far safer than drinking from the oasis – although he’s sure Jack knows all about that.

Jack refuses the drink and remains standing, his gun trained on Daniel (I’m going to refer to Daniel/Dekmel as simply “Daniel” from this point in, OK?). A discussion ensues between the seemingly relaxed Tok’ra and the obviously tense Jack. Daniel reveals that he knows all about Jack’s mission to capture him. He’s also familiar with Jack’s service history, and suggests that it reveals an honourable man who can’t be happy serving a master such as Apophis. He counters Jack’s objections with an offer – the Tok’ra could use such a capable warrior, and with his help, Earth could one day be free of the Goa’uld.

An increasingly distressed Jack rejects the offer, saying all he wants is to bring Daniel in, so he can go back to his retirement. Daniel becomes angry, claiming Jack owes the people of Abydos for what he did to them. Jack protests, saying he had no way of knowing that the nuclear warhead he used to kill Ra in the mines would react so strongly with the naquada ore. Daniel speaks passionately about the resulting devestation and fallout sweeping around the planet, about radiation sickness and poisoned water killing the people and their livestock, about watching his wife die, and only surviving himself by joining with a Tok’ra symbiote. He angrily makes his offer again, saying it’s Jack’s last chance.

Jack has now totally lost control of the situation and knows it. He refuses the offer and demands that Daniel accompany him back to the Gate or he’ll shoot him. Daniel laughs bitterly and asks what will happen to him if he kills the man Apophis wants so badly. Jack admits that he’ll be executed, and begs Daniel to come with him, saying that he can cut a deal and won’t be treated badly. Daniel refuses – a government that that executes so many of it’s own military is hardly likely to be concerned with the rights of prisoners. He produces a rusted pistol from his robes, and points it at his own head, demanding that Jack lower his weapon, of he’ll shoot himself.

Jack demands that he lower the gun. “What, or you’ll shoot me?” asks Daniel with grim humour. Jack, close to breaking down, begs him. Daniel states that it’s not an option. “Lower the weapon or I’ll shoot!” yells Jack. “Now!”

A shot rings out over the dunes.

Cut to the next morning. The oasis is swarming with SGC personnel, unloading crates and erecting a tent over a large bloodstain in the sand. General Maybourne – with a look of deep displeasure etched on his face – steps out of a helicopter, its rotors winding down. He approaches the Major in charge of the site who explains that they aren’t yet sure what happened. The day is already hot, and he mops at his head with a handkerchief as he talks.

The blood is human, but that’s all they can tell until the lab tests for blood type and Goa’uld proteins come back. There’s so much of it though that the owner couldn’t have possibly survived, even with a symbiote. There are tracks leading away from the oasis, but they quickly peter out. An airman carrying a box stumbles as he passes. The major grabs his arm, “Careful son”.

Maybourne returns to the helicopter, and it takes off back towards the Gate. Maybourne asks the pilot (who was just a generic pilot when I started writing this years back, but who in retrospect is clearly Major Sheppard) about the Major, commenting that he seems rather old. The pilot says he doesn’t know anything, but then hesitantly asks permission to speak freely. Maybourne concedes. The Pilot says that – according to rumours – the Major used to be a General. He opposed the Alliance – thinking that Earth could survive without Apophis – and was demoted to his current rank.

Maybourne is surprised he was merely demoted. The Pilot explains this was just after the Abydos mission. “Before the adoption of the Summary Penal Code” Maybourne realises.

The chopper continues into the rising sun. “He really thought we could survive on our own?” asks Maybourne. “Yes sir” answers the Pilot. “We couldn’t you know” continues Maybourne “The Alliance was the only option we had”. “Yes sir” agrees the pilot. Maybourne peers into the sandy distance – “We couldn’t have made it on our own”.


So that’s that. It may have worked, or the summary above may be as good as it would ever have got. But at least it’s now out of my head πŸ™‚

There must be a way to exploit that website!

TV networks never learn…

Well, despite the abject failure of Channel 9’s iCaught a while back (you know, that “let’s save money by ripping free content off YouTube” show?) Channel 10 is having another go at the genre, with Friday Night Download premiering (funnily enough) this Friday night.

It’s basically the same thing, except it’s hosted by the three nobodies who hosted Friday Night Games (that show where they herded the Big Brother housemates into an arena and made them fight each other for food). Of course Friday Night Games was fairly successful, so maybe this will be too. We can only hope it goes the way of Viva Laughlin – which was so bad that Channel 9 axed it after only one episode the other night, something that hasn’t happened since Australia’s Naughtiest Home Video Show.

(You think I’m making up Australia’s Naughtiest Home Video Show don’t you? Well you’re wrong.)

On another subject entirely the reason I’ve been feeling so wretched for the last week is I have a massive ear infection. I didn’t really notice because I get ear infections all the time, and they’re usually no big deal. This one has started hurting the entire left side of my head though, making it hard to chew, so I went to the Doc and got some antibiotics today. That’ll teach those bacteria!

Finally (I’m a bit incoherant tonight, put it down to the infection) yesterday was apparently the cute Emo chick down at the fish and chip shop’s birthday. So happy birthday cute Emo chick down at the fish and chip shop! πŸ™‚

Bah. I’m going to bed.

PS: Good Lord! Catalyst is using the “the Cyclons were created by man” music from Battlestar Galactica for a segment on the eating habits of locusts! What?!

Well, it explains that Purple Suit

Dumbledore is gay! OMG! ZOMG! OMG! ROFL! LOL! ECT.!

Dumbledore is GAY!? What the-

No, wait. That actually makes perfect sense.

(A few days late sure, but that was my actual reaction :D)

In other news Amazon have apparently tried to patent sticking an unformatted search string onto the end of a URL. Amazing! If they manage to actually get it then I’ll be toddling off the Patent Office to talk to them about an idea I’ve got concerning inaudible transmission of sound between two points by the use of Hertzian waves. I really think it could have a future!

Just call me McKay

I am frighteningly like Rodney.

It’s a great big ship!
And it sat in the sea,
For 10,000 years,
With barely a drip!

It’s called Atlantis!
Lots of tech it yeilds,
So they came through the gate,
It would be really great,
If they could turn on the shields,

With Sheppard and Ford,
(And Teyla)
And Beckett and Weir,
(And McKay)
Look out for that r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-wraith!

Now, the reason that I thought posting that inane little ditty (to the theme tune of the wrong series by the way) is that I just watched the entire first series of Stargate Atlantis in less than 60 hours – including one marathon 8 hour non-stop session. This was highly enjoyable, but it’s left my brain in a rather melted state and not really up to much beyond composing stupid (dare I say it) filk songs (I feel so dirty!).

In between episodes I did find time however to do something I’ve been meaning to get around to for ages, which is set up a Flickr account. I haven’t had time to work on Abandoned in Perth for over three years, and it’s been nagging at me. So then I got this idea about driving a cheesecake truck… no, actually I realised that Flickr would let me post photos without all that messing around building a website for them. OK, it’s not the ideal solution, but it’ll do (at least until I can get a job driving a cheesecake truck).

I’m also posting various other photos (and trying to keep the tedium to a minimum) so check ye it out.

Back to work tomorrow. Sigh.

Noxious Eructations

Everyone should just grow up!

Well, how about that! Andrew Hanson sung a cheery little ditty on The Chaser last night about how no one ever speaks ill of the dead – no matter how awful the particular dead person may have been – and suddenly every politician and public commentator is up in arms about it.

And since a sizeable proportion of said public commentators are talkback radio hosts, a large number of elderly, unemployed, bigoted and generally mentally vacuous folk (very few if any of which would have seen the performance because they stopped watching the ABC when it started showing programs about lesbians) are now up in arms as well.

Even the Prime Minister and Opposition Leader have chimed in, although that’s only to be expected now there’s an election on (no politician in election mode is willing to look ‘weak’ by refusing to condemn whatever the noisy minority is yelling about this week).

Now, to be true the song contained a lot of “strong” language. Herculean in fact. And it said a bunch of fairly nasty stuff about a number of well liked people, all of whom are of course dead. But everyone complaining about it seems to have missed an important point. The song was so over the top, the lyrics were so face-slappingly confronting, and Andrew Hanson performed it with such incredible, manic vitriol that no one with even half a brain could have regarded it as anything but satire of the highest order.

Yes, it was rude, it was tasteless, it was really quite awful, but it was astoundingly funny. Jaw droppingly, gasping for air funny. And extremely well written. And in a show that’s all about satire and comedy, isn’t that what’s it’s all about?

(Oh, and everyone who was offended needs to go and look up the definition of transgressive humour).

Anyway, on the subject of noxious eructations I’ve added a new article to Wikipedia, on the Lincoln Street sewer vent. Go check it out. Go on!

His Barely Hominoid Pointy Eared Gimp

The Black of Space (it’s a pun, see?)

Well, as I mentioned yesterday Simon Pegg is going to play Mr Scott in the next Star Trek movie. Bravo I say.

Of course there’s plenty of people who aren’t so happy. Numerous bulletin boards all over the internet are drowning in alternative casting suggestions and cries of “Why didn’t they cast someone Scottish?” (apparently forgetting that Jimmy Doohan was Canadian).

Anyway among the many suggested non-Simon-Peggs one in particular caught my eye. Someone (apparently seriously) suggested Dylan Moran. Dylan Moran!


Needless to say visions of the inevitable result were immediately dancing like sugarplums in my head, so I present them here in the form of a script…


Scene – Deep space. The USS Enterprise is surrounded by three Klingon Birds of Prey, all firing their disruptors into its shields. The shields flicker under the onslaught.

Cut to the bridge. The camera shakes as the ship rocks from another impact. CAPTAIN KIRK hits the communicator button in the arm of his chair.

KIRK: Mr Scott! Warp factor eight!

Cut to the engine room. MR SCOTT lies back in his chair. His feet are up on an engineering console, and a rumpled newspaper covers his head. He appears to be deeply asleep – or possibly passed-out – but puffs of cigarette smoke emerge from beneath. He seems completely oblivious to both the attack and the communicator.

KIRK: Mr Scott!

The ship is rattled by a further impact. An empty wine bottle rolls off the console and smashes on the floor. Mr Scott starts up in shock, struggling to pull the newspaper off his face. He finally frees himself from its embrace and hurls it to the ground as the communicator squawks again.

KIRK: Mr Scott!!

Mr Scott glares at it with a mixture of rage and deep loathing.

MR SCOTT: Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhh GOD!!

He mashes the communicator control.


KIRK: Warp factor 8 Mr Scott!!

MR SCOTT (mockingly, as he punches viciously at various controls): Warp factor eight! Bloudy warp factor eight! (He hits one final button with a violent flourish) See how yuh like that yuh great pointy eared martian! (He sits back with a look of vile contentment on his face).

Cut to the Bridge. The main screen goes dead. All the lights go out.


Cut back to the engine room. Mr Scott is picking up and hopefully peering into various empty wine bottles.

MR SCOTT (not looking around): Yeah well they can fock off too.

Cut to exterior of Enterprise. The shields fail and the ship is blown to a million pieces.


Now that’s a movie I’d pay to see πŸ™‚

Hi Ho Hi Ho It’s Crazy We Will Go

Some people shouldn’t be allowed technology

Well, Howard’s finally done it and called the election. About time frankly. He’s been holding off as long as possible in the hopes he can pull a rabbit out of his hat and reverse the polls – consistantly indicating a crushing defeat for the Coalition – which means we’ve already had to put up with three months or so of a phoney election campaign. Now we’ve got six weeks of an actual campaign to put up with, but at least there’s an end in sight. And with any luck an end of the Coalition as well.

On the railway front the works are finished, and everything’s back to normal. I gave up on the 98 bus on Thursday last week because two hours a day of sitting on a cramped bus was driving me spare (my daily commute is two hours a day anyway, but it involves trains, buses and walking, so I guess there’s more variety). I did my normal commute on Thurday and Friday, getting the rail replacement bus between the city and Subi, which wasn’t too bad. It was actually the trains that messed me up…

I’d had a particularly hard day at work on Thursday, and had a splitting headache when I caught the train at Perth. Thankfully I managed to get a seat, but then as we got underway some idiot a few seats down started loudly playing what I can only presume is some kind of viral video on their mobile phone. I have no idea of the visual content, but the audio was a parody of the ‘Hi-Ho’ song from Snow White, seemingly performed by someone impersonating the Chipmunks.

“Hi-ho! Ho-ho! It’s on the web we go! [something something] see some tits! Hi-ho! Hi-ho-hi-ho!”

This teeth grinding insanity went for a full three verses with a big piano finale. Bad enough you might think, but then the idiot played it again. And again. And again. My entire trip home was accompanied by the tinny shrill of chipmunk Disney music, to the point where if the train hadn’t been so crowded I would have walked over, grabbed the phone from their hands and stomped it to pieces.

Anyway that was Thursday. On Friday my attempts to get into work early were foiled by someone getting themselves killed by the Prospector just outside Bayswater station, resulting in the Midland line being shut down, and requiring more sitting on decrepit old rail replacement buses.

But it’s all over now, and the brand new underground station is open in the city. I’ll have to go and check it out this weekend, maybe take a trip down to the Esplanade station just for the heck of it (they’ve opened the line with only two stations actually operational, and those only a five minute walk apart. But hey! It’s an underground train! πŸ™‚

Finally Simon Pegg has been cast as Mr Scott in the new Star Trek movie. A bit out of left field, but I can see him working quite well. Now all they have to do is get Gary Sinise to play Doctor McCoy and they’ll be set (c’mon, the resemblance is frightening!)

More on the Star Trek angle tomorrow! πŸ™‚

Photoshop isn’t Forensics

Using the swirl effect doesn’t make you a CSI

Maybe I’ve fried my brain by listening to Temple of Love by the Sisters of Mercy (featuring Ofra Haza) too many times in a row, but am I the only one who thinks the news media is getting a touch over excited by the fact that you can reverse a Photoshop swirl effect by running an opposite swirl on top of it? I mean I’m glad they now have a chance to catch the sicko involved, but the way the papers and news bulletins have been going on about it you’d think it’s the forensic breakthrough of the century – as opposed to something known by anyone who plays around with Photoshop for more than five minutes. Give me one of those photos (appropriately cropped – I seriously don’t want to know what’s going on in there) and I could pull the guy’s face out of it in 60 seconds or less without even having to think about it.

There’s absolute public transport chaos at the moment. In order to plug the new Mandurah line into the rail network they’ve had to shut down the Fremantle line for a week. They’re running extra buses and such, but it’s still a major nightmare. I’ve given up on the trains entirely until it’s done and am catching the Circle Route bus to work. It takes an extra 15 minutes, but is a lot less inconvenient that catching a train, switching to a bus, then switching to another bus. Things should be back to normal by the start of next week – I just hope they’re going to keep running trains straight from Midland to Fremantle once it’s done, otherwise my daily commute is going to get a lot more annoying.

I’ve almost got my computer back up and running in the style I’m accustomed to. Just a few more programs to install and everything should be back to normal – if anything on my computer could be said to be normal πŸ™‚


The world hasn’t ended after all!

Picked up the promised DVD backup of my old desktop from the computer people yesterday and…

It’s got everything on it!

Huzzah!! Disaster averted! πŸ˜€

In other good news my 404 page is 404 of the week over at the 404 Research Lab, which explains why it’s suddenly the most visited page on Wyrmworld (something that gave me a nasty shock when I checked my stats – you usually don’t want to see hundreds of hits on your error page :). So it’s good news all round!

(Well apart from the pulp mill going ahead, and President Bush deciding that Republican funding from the tobacco industry some obtuse bit of philosophy about private health insurance is more important than medical care for children)

Close Bitnami banner