Son of On the Free Table in the Laundry Room

Monday Magic

In which Tim explores the world of Magic: The Gathering one
card at a time, courtesy of Gatherer's "Random Card" button.

Bloodletter Quill (Ravnica: City of Guilds, 2005)



So apparently the gimmick is that this is an evil pen that gives you access to forbidden secrets, at the measly cost of . . . your soul! Makes sense: you get to draw a card, pay some life, and then repeat. It requires blue and black to be used properly, which - since this is a Ravnica card (and Jesus, what's with all the Ravnica block cards? this is like the third one I've pulled for this) - means it belongs to the mysterious and sinister Dimir guild. Dimir is all about secrets, dwelling in the shadows and striking silently, so paying a high price for proscribed knowledge (read: extra cards) is well within their wheelhouse. From a purely mechanical standpoint, both colors are really good at increasing your card advantage, so it makes sense that an artifact built to support the color combo would enable you to draw more cards easier.

This card came out in 2005. Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix came out in 2003 (my favorite of the series, incidentally). That book featured the introduction of Dolores Umbridge, the latest in a long line of Defense Against the Dark Arts teachers, and one who took a particular dislike to Harry. Her preferred form of punishment was to write "I must not tell lies" over and over again onto his own flesh with a devilish torture instrument called the blood quill:



This motif originates most likely in Franz Kafka's 1914 short story "In the Penal Colony," built around a (fictional) method of execution that consists of inscribing / tattooing the body of a convict with his sentence repeatedly, until he finally dies after somewhere around 12 hours of excruciating pain. But that story does not feature a little eyeball and sac of blood sinking its tendrils into the Admiral's writing hand. (Why the Admiral? I don't know, but it sure looks like the dude is wearing an admiral's dress uniform.) Robert Crumb provided an excellent illustration of "In the Penal Colony" for his great book on Kafka:

I'm Not Even Touching That One

Has It Come To This?

In an attempt to ruin their last vestiges of credibility, the Onion AV club are really scraping the barrel now: that's right, I got the call. My retirement from being a real, responsible critic - as opposed to a guy who makes jokes about Garfield and Magic cards - is over.

Monday Magic

In which Tim explores the world of Magic: The Gathering one
card at a time, courtesy of Gatherer's "Random Card" button.

Kederekt Parasite (Conflux, 2009 )



Who's peekin' out from under a stairway,

Calling a name that's lighter than air?

Who's bending down to give me a rainbow?

Everyone knows it's Kederekt Parasite.

Who's tripping down the streets of the city,

Smilin' at everybody she sees?

Who's reachin' out to capture a moment?

Everyone knows it's Kederekt Parasite.

And Kederekt Parasite has stor-my eyes,

That flash at the sound of lies.

And Kederekt Parasite has wings to fly,

Above the clouds (above the clouds)

Above the clouds (above the clouds).

[Flute]

And Kederekt Parasite has stor-my eyes,

That flash at the sound of lies.

And Kederekt Parasite has wings to fly,

Above the clouds (above the clouds)

Above the clouds (above the clouds).

Who's tripping down the streets of the city,

Smilin' at everybody she sees?

Who's reachin' out to capture a moment?

Everyone knows it's Kederekt Parasite.

[Repeat And fade]

A Harmless Necessary Cat

The premise of Garfield is simple: Garfield the cat suffers from severe depression, a condition which he self-medicates through eating. He cannot be at peace, he always finds fault in his environment, in those around him, in the very constraints of the three-panel universe in which he resides.

In these earliest strips, before Garfield slimmed down, he is enormous, a giant wedge of orange fat. He is more than an animal: he is pure mass, exerting a powerful gravitational pull on everything around him. His owner Jon, the dog Odie, all the food - falls to him, falls into him irresistibly.

He is appetite incarnate: from the root word carnis, Latin for "meat," incarnated means literally to be placed into meat, to be animated in flesh. The risen Christ is a manifestation of God incarnated, the spirit made to animate a hollow shell of gristle and bone. Garfield is the force of appetite. He cannot be sated. He cannot be placated. He will never be satisfied - the moment of relief from his hunger never arrives.

In his world he is both God and damned: every element of reality bends inexorably to him, but even given this he can never be fulfilled. The more he eats, the more he desires to eat. Imagine an eternity of everything you ever wanted without the moment of release granted by satiation - and then imagine Garfield, supreme monarch of a realm of endless suffering.