September 27, 2004

In which I brag on my beloved older brother, even though he ruined my brain

My brother read the blog and called me.

Bobby: So someone really thought she could outgeek my sister?
Me: I know. Sad, huh.
Him: If someone seriously wants to take you on, all I can say is…she better speak Klingon.

See? He knows. And why shouldn’t he? After all, it is ALL HIS FAULT.

I was a perfectly NORMAL baby and toddler and little kid. I was normal all the way to seven, when my favorite book in all of life was CHARLOTTE’S WEB. I read it and read it and read it, meanwhile my brother, a middle schooler, was deep into swords and sorcery and all manner of sci-fi. All was well, until he made it his business to turn me to the dark side.

One day, when I went to get Charlotte’s Web off the shelf, he leapt in front of me, blocking my access to the bookshelf.

Bobby: thrusting a copy of Conan the Cimmarian at me.* READ THIS INSTEAD!
Me: *reaching for book* That looks stupid. I want to read Charlotte’s Web.
Bobby: *blocking me* Charlotte’s Web is stupid. This has swords! And magic! And Adventure! And bloody death!
Me: *reaching* I want to read CHARLOTTE!
Bobby: *blocking* I glued all the pages of Charlotte’s Web together.
Me: *snatches Conan book and stomps off cursing all things brotherly*

Of course that was a BIG LIE. He had NOT glued all the pages together, but what did I know? I was seven. And two Conan stories later, I was ALSO hooked. And via Conan he introduced me to a world of boy-centric pulp fiction I had NO BUSINESS reading while my brain was still so unformed:
Edgar Rice Burroughs (Tarzan and Pelucidar and Barsoom, and I ate them like candy and never once realized they were ALL THE SAME BOOK.)
Robert Heinlein (EARLY Heinlien, pre Stranger in a Strange Land. After Stranger he kinda slipped off the deep end and began writing inter-galactic porn.)
H.P Lovecraft (who kept me up all night cringing because Something Evil was OBVIOUSLY spawning in the crypt beneath my bed.)

I remember stumbling through the kitchen, 8 years old, with my nose poked deep into Cormac Mac Art. My mother saw the boobalicious chainmail bikini chick cover art and blanched and said to my brother, “Should your little sister be reading that?” And Bobby said, “MOM! IT’S ROBERT E. HOWARD! It’s, like, CLASSIC LITERATURE.” And so my mom let me. And that opened the door to Arthur C. Clark, Vonda N. MacIntyre, Michael Moorcock, Star Trek, and a pervasive and pernicious interest in Greek, Roman, and Norse mythology that haunts me TO THIS DAY.

Reading is dangerous. Burn ‘em all, I say.

My brother, meanwhile, grew up to make his living in the arts as well. He’s a sculptor, and and a dern good one. He sculpts the greens for miniatures and toys. Companies buy his sculptures and cast molds from them and make little guys that are sold in blister packs all over the country, and Bobby was one of the first miniature artists to have his work sold under his name. Because he’s just. that. good.

If you are a TRUE GEEK of the Gaming variety, let me go ahead and answer the question that is burning like Smaug's belly in your head. Yeah, he’s THAT Bobby Jackson. Pretty cool, huh? That’s like, 200 geek-cred points I get, right there, just for being related. Beats speaking Klingon, any old day.

Posted by joshilyn at September 27, 2004 10:25 AM

I concede. If I'd had any idea, I never would have even entered the ring. I bow humbly before the radiant magnitude of your geekness.

I am not worthy.

But, bright side, I found a bigger geek than me so - yay!

:) Lani

Posted by: Lani at September 27, 2004 11:25 AM

Why is it that the language in your blog is reminiscent of Don Quixote? Tilting at windmills?

Posted by: bob at September 27, 2004 1:49 PM

I KNEW I wanted to hang out with you! My dear co-worker/friend introduced me to your blog several months ago, and I have been cackling and falling out of my chair laughing ever since. We've decided that the three of us here who have gotten hooked on your blog need to make a trip down to your neck of the woods and steal you away for much fan-girl giggling, plying with margarita/wine/imbibing sauce of your choice, and getting to know the person we've all decided would be waaaaay too much fun to hang out with. Thanks for admitting that you're a geek on top of it; that just clinched the deal!

Posted by: Beth at September 27, 2004 3:02 PM

Bob, you say Don Quixote, I say Cyrano...

De Guiche: Remember, they make formidable enemies.
Cyrano: Do they? Those large empty machines which twist and turn in every gust of fashion?
De Guiche: Beware, they can gather you easily in their lofty arms and hurl you down to the gutter!
Cyrano: Or up, into the stars!

Posted by: Mr. Husband at September 27, 2004 4:21 PM


What a geek.

Beth -- Ask Bob (aka stalker # 3) how that worked out for him, poor guy. He had the DUBIOUS pleasure of my besotted company in NY recently.

Bob and Mr My-Beloved, these are KIND comparisons as I love both those guys. But honey, if I wrote Cyrano it would look like THIS:

De Guiche: Remember, they make FORMIDABLE enemies.
Cyrano: Do they? Those large empty machines which TWIST AND TURN in every gust of fashion? (digression: speaking of fashion, I LIKE SHOES!)
De Guiche: BEWARE! they can gather you easily in their LOFTY ARMS and HURL you down to the gutter!
Cyrano: etc etc yada yada, up, stars, *we all break for lunch*

Posted by: joshilyn at September 27, 2004 4:38 PM