IF YOU EVER DOUBT that there can be a lot going on in one sentence, take a look at George McFly: his utterance of these eight words ties together mistaken identity, sexual assault, burgeoning heroism, protoincest, and the twisting of the space-time continuum—and that’s all before Biff even turns around. We all have instances in our lives in which it seems as though our many problems and dreams coalesce into a single, terrifying moment, and we know that how we decide to act in those crucial moments will change who we are. Oddly, George’s true pivotal moment was making the decision to act at all; that inertia spilled over into real actions and real change. In the movie, it’s a triumphant climax. In real life, making a tough decision at a crucial juncture often means that different troubles lie ahead. Yet the tough decision is often the right one, and it’s always worth fighting a good fight.
Crispin Glover’s portrayal of George McFly in Back to the Future (1985) was so memorable, it’s hard to conceive anyone else having done it. That didn’t stop the producers of the sequel from replacing him with an actor who accepted a lower salary.
“I FIND YOUR LACK OF FAITH DISTURBING.”
—DARTH VADER, STAR WARS
ADMIRAL MOTTI thought he knew what he was dealing with. His boss, imperial high honcho Grand Moff Tarkin, had this right-hand man, Darth Vader, who got to do whatever he wanted whenever he wanted and was just way impressed with himself. Meanwhile, Motti, a good, hardworking soldier, spent a whole freaking decade wrangling the logistical nightmare of constructing a battle station the size of a freaking moon, only to be dismissed with a hand wave by this heavy-breathing asswipe. It’s not hard to see that, after who knows how many management staff meetings where Vader doubtlessly kept mouthing off about “the power of the Force” this and “the power of the Force” that, Motti had had about enough and was ready to put Vader in his place. Here’s where Motti went wrong: He misjudged his rival’s moxie. He thought he knew the sort of response to expect after calling his coworker a douchebag. It never occurred to him that being maybe choked to death right there on the spot was even within the realm of possibility. So gauge your opponents correctly. How far will they go?
We would like to take this footnote to suggest that, the next time George Lucas goes back to mess with his films for another digitally altered version, perhaps he should replace all footage of the unmasked Anakin Skywalker with newly filmed and de-aged shots of James Earl Jones.
“GOOD DAY, SIR! …
I SAID, GOOD DAY!”
—WILLY WONKA, WILLY WONKA AND THE CHOCOLATE FACTORY
JON STEWART has appropriated this huffy conversation-ending phrase in recent years, and though he always plays it for laughs, it really does epitomize in seven words the “extreme moderate” philosophy that fuels Stewart’s appeal. See, when Willy Wonka hurls this dismissal at Charlie Bucket in response to Charlie’s having broken the rules of the chocolate factory tour, he does so because he’s angry—furious, in fact, that Charlie, for whom he had great hopes, has let him down. But he doesn’t let his disappointed fury consume him. He doesn’t call Charlie names. He simply expresses his anger … politely. His voice is loud and upset, but he keeps his words dignified. He quotes the contractual terms Charlie has violated, spells out the logical conclusion, and leaves it there. And by stopping short of the nuclear option, by being angry without becoming truly nasty, he thereby leaves an opening for Charlie to offer one more statement—which is exactly what it takes for the two to come back to the table and find a happy ending for their story. That distinction between forceful honesty and abuse is the line that Stewart—and the millions of Americans who love his show—wishes today’s politicians would remember how to draw.
Chocolate Factory author Roald Dahl was a World War II flying ace who flew combat missions over Greece, was promoted to wing commander, and subsequently worked in British Intelligence alongside Ian Fleming.
“I HAVE COME HERE TO CHEW
BUBBLEGUM AND KICK ASS, AND I’M
ALL OUT OF BUBBLEGUM.”
—THEY LIVE
ROWDY” RODDY PIPER’S LACK of bubblegum is not what prompted his alien ass-kicking spree. He had come to chew bubblegum and kick ass, after all. No “or” in the equation. If given the chance, he’d probably have been chewing that bubble gum while kicking alien ass, which is a lot more than most of us could hope to accomplish. Those goofy one-liners may be absurd, but they also say something about ourselves. It’s like this: The wish fulfillment inherent in badass one-liners isn’t merely about looking cool—it’s about keeping your composure in situations that would make most of us curl up into the fetal position and cry. The ordinary-man-turned-hero is a mainstay of geek entertainment, yes, but we return to the witty tough guy for a reason. As much as we dream of overcoming great adversity and being a hero, what we really want is to do it without pissing our pants. So pass the bubblegum, please.
In 2010, acclaimed novelist Jonathan Lethem published a 208-page deconstruction of They Live (1988), which remains filmmaker John Carpenter’s cult-favoritest work today.
“DON’T PANIC”
—DOUGLAS ADAMS, THE HITCHHIKER’S GUIDE TO THE GALAXY
WHEN DUNE AUTHOR Frank Herbert referred to fear as a mind killer, he composed an entire litany to emphasize that point. On the other hand, Douglas Adams was able to convey the same sentiment with two simple words in all caps. While The Hitchhiker’s Guide had the above legend emblazoned on its cover to avoid discouraging those who might fear the titular device was too complicated, no less an authority than Arthur C. Clarke called it the best possible advice for humankind. It’s not about whether life will throw a you curve-ball, because if you’ve spent any time at all as part of the human experience, you know the odds are already pretty well stacked in favor of that happening. But the true test is how you react once the inevitable occurs. Don’t be overwhelmed. Don’t be discouraged. Don’t. Panic. In fact, once you step back and think things through, you may just find, as Adams said elsewhere in the guide, that the whole thing is “mostly harmless.”
The phrase “Don’t panic” was subsequently used by a young Neil Gaiman as the title of his nonfiction book—most recently rereleased in 2009—about Douglas Adams and The Hitchhiker’s Guide.
“AT LEAST I HAVE CHICKEN.”
—LEEROY JENKINS, WORLD OF WARCRAFT
SOCIAL ISOLATION is an unavoidable part of the geek maturation process. It’s tough being different during childhood and adolescence, given the immense social pressure to conform imposed by family, society, and schoolmates. This is why, when geeks finally find one another and form their own groups, nothing short of nuclear assault will sever those hard-won social bonds. Take, for instance, the Leeroy Jenkins incident: a now-infamous World of Warcraft video from 2005, documenting a game in which a whole players’ guild was decimated thanks to the foolishly enthusiastic recklessness of one member who went wildly charging into battle, oblivious to the group’s well-thought-out plan. Everyone from Conan O’Brien to the U.S. armed forces has cited this video as an example of crass stupidity and poor communications (on Leeroy’s part) as well as taking things too seriously (that would be his fellow gamers, who grew very upset with him). But there’s a more important message in the way Leeroy’s guild reacted when he ignored their elaborate plan and ran straight into a deadly lions’ den: They all followed him. They tried to save him, even though it meant that all their characters died in the process. Because, see, that’s how geek friends roll.
The literal meaning of Leeroy’s final comeback to his friends, “At least I have chicken,” is harder to explain. Supposedly, the reason Leeroy’s player Ben Schulz didn’t understand the plan is because, while it was being made, he’d gone to the kitchen to get some dinner. Whether this is true is open for debate.
“THERE ARE FOUR LIGHTS!”
—JEAN-LUC PICARD, STAR TREK: THE NEXT GENERATION
TORTURE DOESN’T WORK … because torture does work. When you mindfuck people, you can’t be certain how their minds wi
ll respond. Sometimes they’ll give you the truth you’re looking for. Sometimes they’ll be determined not to, and your efforts to force it out of them risk turning untruths into their new reality. Can you tell the difference? Maybe. Or maybe not. Torture isn’t just when a Cardassian officer ties up Captain Picard in the dark and uses pain to seek military intelligence. Torture is when a school bully smacks a kid in the face every single day for three years. It’s when a spouse abuses the intimacy of a marriage to turn a would-be partner into a frightened slave. It’s not only a cruel game, it’s a dangerous one—because if the powerless ones suddenly find themselves unexpectedly holding a weapon, heaven only knows where they may end up pointing it.
The 1992 episode “Chain of Command,” whence this quote comes, was cowritten by Ronald D. Moore, who later explored torture in outer space at much greater lengths in Battlestar Galactica.
“I CAN KILL YOU WITH MY BRAIN.”
—RIVER TAM, FIREFLY
GEEKDOM IS A CELEBRATION of the mind. There are lots of athletic or physically attractive geeks out there, but in the end geek identity is centered on the intellect and the willingness to be different. Unfortunately, these qualities are not much celebrated in wider society. So how cool is it that in so much of geek literature—science fiction and fantasy, in other words—there are people who can kick ass with brain-and willpower? The enduring popularity of the psychic or psionic in the geek zeitgeist is ultimately about the power of the mind and its relative worth in society. The heroes and heroines of these tales often fear their power or struggle to control it—but once they’ve mastered it, no force in the ’verse can stop them.
Firefly (2002) may not have lasted more than fourteen episodes, but a decade later its star, Nathan Fillion, could still be found dropping in-jokes on his new TV show Castle.
“YOU HAVE BEEN WEIGHED, YOU HAVE
BEEN MEASURED, AND YOU HAVE BEEN
FOUND WANTING.”
—COUNT ADHEMAR, A KNIGHT’S TALE
WHAT A DELICIOUSLY utter prick Count Adhemar was, getting off on squashing the hopes and dreams of earnest young would-be knight Sir Ulrich von Lichtenstein, aka William Thatcher. Do you know a guy like this? A guy who’s totally impressed with himself for having the great genius and talent to have gotten himself born the favored son of a wealthy family of society’s ruling class? Who takes it for granted that he deserves to be handsome, deserves to win trophies, deserves to have the ladies fawn all over him? You’d kinda like to knock him off a horse, wouldn’t you, with a big stick and a satisfying crashing sound? Well, we’re gonna be honest: You probably won’t get the chance to do that. But you can imagine it. And you can take quietly sadistic comfort in the fact that, eventually, whether or not you’re there to see it, he’s going to zig when he should have zagged, and the look on his face just before it abruptly smacks into the ground will be all you might have hoped.
A Knight’s Tale (2001) included the character of a wayward young Geoffrey Chaucer, who hadn’t yet written The Canterbury Tales. Anyone who enjoyed the fictionalized Chaucer performed by Paul Bettany would do well to explore the separate but equally entertaining online world of Geoffrey Chaucer Hath a Blog.
“TWO AND TWO MAKE FIVE.”
—GEORGE ORWELL, 1984
MATHEMATICAL EQUATIONS should be frightening only to elementary school children, but there is something chilling about the above equation: a reminder that no matter how strong we think we are, the mind is weak. We all think we’re smart, perceptive, and, beyond all else, rational—geeks especially think highly of the machine that is their mind, and often for good reason—but fear, oppression, and hopelessness are weapons that can savage any mind. Goebbels and the Nazi propagandists whipped a country into a frenzy of genocidal hatred not because the German people were weak minded—to the contrary, the Germans have often been intellectual pioneers—but because a person’s mind is softer than flesh. Take advantage of fear (rational or otherwise), of prejudice, of want and desire, and a mind can be broken easier than a bone. Otherwise good people can be brainwashed to look away while millions are sent to their deaths, to ignore the stench of decay and pretend that, yes, two plus two does indeed make five.
George Orwell’s 1984 is one of a handful of dark-geek science-fiction novels that has long enjoyed the official sanction of the academic literary canon.
“I’VE GOT A BAD FEELING
ABOUT THIS.”
—HAN SOLO, STAR WARS
“I HAVE A BAD FEELING
ABOUT THIS.”
—PRINCESS LEIA, THE EMPIRE STRIKES BACK
“I HAVE A REALLY BAD
FEELING ABOUT THIS.”
—HAN SOLO, RETURN OF THE JEDI
WHEN THE CHARACTERS in Star Wars have a bad feeling about something—which they frequently do, since it’s the longest running and most familiar gag of the entire saga—the humor comes at the metatextual level: That statement having been uttered, the viewer knows a twist in the narrative is imminent. Life isn’t much different. Sometimes you know something just isn’t right. Whether it’s fate or instinct or the subconscious mind at work, we have a way of recognizing when the walls of life’s trash compactor are about to start closing in. It’s that tingle in your gut that says, “If I take one more step, I’m going to lose control of the situation.” That feeling, alarming though it may be, is a healthy one. Experiencing it means you’re experiencing life, which means that, although by definition you can’t know what unexpectedly curving path you may one day find yourself diverted into, you can rest assured there’s one coming eventually. Just as “I’ve got a bad feeling about this” is a playful wink to the audience, the real thing is life’s wink at you. Keep an eye out for it.
Other characters who’ve said it: Obi-Wan Kenobi, Anakin Skywalker, Luke Skywalker, C-3PO.
“HE IS THE ONE.”
—MORPHEUS, THE MATRIX
“I KNOW KUNG FU.”
—NEO, THE MATRIX
MOST CRITICAL ANALYSES of the Matrix films are quick to point out its Christian religious allegory—despite Jesus never having done much in the way of flying around or looking cool, and his method of dealing with enemies was to love them, not beat them to a bloody pulp. Neo’s un-Messianic behavior may stem from the fact that “turn the other cheek” is a tough sell to geeks, many of whom have endured bullying and other forms of societal injustice. Neo—like other superheroes, into whose ranks he neatly fits—makes a more palatable savior for some because he not only rejects injustice but attacks it, in a wholly visceral and satisfying way. But Neo isn’t very Jesus-like in another, perhaps more chilling way. The Matrix franchise makes much of the fact that “blue-pills” are all potential enemies, working for the system and able to be essentially possessed by Agents at any given time. Yet they are still, in essence, innocent bystanders. And although Jesus made an effort to save such people, casting out demons and calming mobs, Neo mowed them down with machine guns and flying roundhouse kicks.
Neo, then, is not Jesus. He is a savior, but only of those who ask; a redeemer, but only for those (his fellow red-pills) who are as knowledgeable and savvy as he is. His miracles are the result of his programming knowledge and mastery of the operating system that is the Matrix; he wields knowledge itself as a weapon. In this he is merely human, and deeply flawed at that. But he is, at least, a true geek avatar.
Comic-book geeks continue to squabble with movie geeks about whether the name Morpheus, out of context, should be taken as a reference to Laurence Fishburne’s character in The Matrix or to the protagonist of Neil Gaiman’s Sandman.
“ALL YOUR BASE ARE BELONG TO US.”
—ZERO WING VIDEO GAME
ZERO WING WAS A CLASSIC example of early video game imports, which were frequently plagued by semicomprehensible “Japlish”—an affectionate term for Japanese dialogue translated badly into English by companies too cheap or too broke to localize the game properly. Even by the rough standards of the day, however, Zero Wing’s translation was so awful tha
t it achieved a kind of surreal artistic brilliance. “All your base are belong to us”—dear lord, there are tense problems, plurality problems, passive-voice problems, all in the span of seven words. But mangled or not, the quintessential sense of betrayal communicated by such Zero Wing phrases as “somebody set us up the bomb” was painfully clear, which may be why so many geeks used the phrase in response to any kind of double-cross or undeserved attack. There was something poetic about it all, even if unintentionally so. In 2003, teenagers in Sturgis, Michigan, posted “All your base …” signs all over town—purportedly as an April Fool’s Day protest against the war in Iraq, lending these flubbed translations an even greater social-justice significance. Not bad for an otherwise mediocre game.
Zero Wing was originally an arcade game in Japan (1989) before being ported to Sega home systems and desktop PCs several years later.
“OH, BOY.”
—DR. SAM BECKETT, QUANTUM LEAP
ONE OF THE MOST IMPORTANT things in life is maintaining the proper perspective—realizing that no matter how important or Earth-shattering our problems may seem at any given minute, ’someone else is dealing with something that, to them, is just as profound and/or just as devastating. This is something Sam Beckett became intimately familiar with, because if anything will force you to metaphorically look at the world through another person’s eyes, it’s literally looking at the world through another person’s eyes. Sam spent five seasons exiled helplessly from his own existence, quantum-leaping into the lives (and bodies) of various unfortunates scattered across the timestream. And it tells you something that, after discovering each time that his latest leap wouldn’t be the one to finally bring him home, Sam did not succumb to desperation or despondency. He just allowed himself a momentary respite, a succinct “Oh, boy.” Then he got down to the business of setting right what once went wrong.
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