Alex Garg writes...

"Although I don't know if they actually used the M.I.A. acronym as far back as WWII. I associate it with Vietnam. Does anyone else know?"

The farthest back I've seen militaries use "Missing," not necessarily "M.I.A.," on casualty lists is the Crimean War. I know the U.S. used "Missing" during the Civil War. Before then, armies had "Unclassified" casualties because it was nearly impossible to tell if someone was missing as a result of a battle, was mixed up with another unit or had gotten scared and ran from the battle.

But going back to your actual question, the acronym came about during WWI (or at least that's when the U.S. began keeping track of M.I.A. figures) and was very much used in WWII. The U.S. Department of Defense Defense Prisoner of War/Missing Personnel Office's mission of recovering M.I.A.'s begins with those missing from WWII.

Probably the reason why you associate the acronym with Vietnam is because the U.S. added the acronym M.I.A.P.D. - Missing in Action Presumed Dead - to its acronym-heavy lexicon either shortly before or during Vietnam, and because the government didn't want to keep reporting PD's to the media, they more readily reported those who were M.I.A. and might be found alive (of course, they might have been reporting PD's as well and just never informed the general public about the acronym's extension).

Sobering statistic time: Of the 217,000 U.S. soldiers reported M.I.A. from WWI through Vietnam, 42% remain unaccounted for; 88,000 of those still missing are from WWII-Vietnam.

Anyway, that's the best I can do with that - maybe someone else knows more. Thanks for the ramble, I hope you have more on the way.

Battle Beast writes...

I loved the ep. Not just to see a new clan of Gargoyles, but it brings up memories of the war stories my Grandmother told me.

Every time I watch it, I can see my Grandmother running for cover from the Nazi's as a young girl. And then I can see my Grandfather shooting them down. Every time I watch "M.I.A." I think of my Grandfather very fondley.
To me, my grandfather was, and still is a good 'ole Canadian war hero.

Thanks a million, Greg!

Blaise writes...

M.I.A.

Ahhhh...a new ramble! Glad to hear your thoughts on the episodes again, Greg!

Anyway, as soon as I saw Una and Leo I kind of figured them to be gargoyles--I don't know why, exactly, but it just seemed so obvious. I love the idea of the magic shop, too--I know it's the type of shop I'd like to visit.
While I'm talking about the London clan (or at least, the three that we've met), I just want to talk about their designs. Not just their physical designs mind you--their clothes and such as well. I'll admit, I didn't know much about "heraldic animals" at the time I saw this, so I didn't quite pick up that layer of it. I still liked it, though--helped make them unique, even from Raven's illusion clan. The feathered wings were also quite beautiful. Their tails, though, don't look like they would be as strong as those in the other clans we have seen. Griff's and Leo's maybe, but I doubt Una would be able to wrap her tail around someone's gun and jerk it from their grasp. Their attire is similarly unique, with them wearing quasi-medieval armor and dresses (I especially like Una's dress; very elegant). Griff's is different, yet still evocative of armor, which IMO makes him seem more "modern" than his cohorts. Leo and Una's cloaks are nice, and color-coded as well--green for Leo, violet for Una. Other small things: Leo's eyes seem to have a yellowish tint while Una's have a blue one, Leo's mane is tied back in a pony tail (never noticed that before...). And, even after your ramble, Greg, I look at Griff and cannot see a bit of Foghorn Leghorn in him.
Okay, long digression. Anyway, seeing Leo and Una's coldness to the plight of the man from the street made me feel a little cold to them myself. Leo seems to be a bit more aware than Una is though. By that I mean, he's the one who looks out the window and says "There goes the neighborhood." This sort of thing leads me to believe that Leo's final "revelation" in ACT 3 is something that he's been pondering over for quite some time. Sure, he still doesn't do anything, but I can't help feeling there's something there.
The weary travelers arrive in London, and spot the memorial. I instantly recognized Goliath's statue and became intrigued, as for Griff's...I think I had some vague recollection of his portrait, but I didn't really dwell on it.
Elisa apologizes to the cabby for the "American money." It's a little touch, but I really like it.
Then the thugs show up. I think I've finally figured out the actors who did the voices of the three who talked:
Jeff Bennett--Baldy.
Neil Dickson--Red Mohawk.
Gregg Berger--Big Guy with Torn Green Shirt.
(I could be wrong, though...)
Anyway, the gargs show up and make short work of them (I especially love Angela's disdain over her foe). Leo and Una arrive on the scene, and Goliath (and this audience member) start to become confused. Elisa, noticing the growing crowd, suggests that everyone go inside the shop.
When it comes up that Goliath met the London clan in 1940, I remembered the "Previously on..." segment with Goliath saying he's going to make sure nobody uses the Gate again, and kind of figured out what would happen.
Maybe I really am cold, but I don't feel much sympathy towards Leo and Una at this point. Even in hindsight, I still feel cold. They don't even bother to listen to Goliath's story--I would have thought the mention of "being frozen in stone hibernation" would have at least piqued their curiosity in some way. Instead, they just feel like doling out punishment--even if it means shackling up an innocent third party in the dungeon for no other reason than their association with Goliath. I never noticed the parallel between Una and Demona before you mentioned it, Greg, but I definitely see it.
I didn't think Goliath's "inner monologue" was terribly awkward. I mean, Matt Bluestone, a supporting character, got pretty much a whole episode to do it. Who are we to begrudge the series lead just one line.
I like Griff's reaction to Goliath's "You saved my life--it was suppossed to work the other way around." I also like Goliath's tentative "Pleased to meet you" when he "first" meets Leo and Una.
Back on the London Clan designs again--I really liked how the artists aged them (or "youthened" them as the case may be). Lines on the face, the grey in Leo's hair. Also the voice actors did a good job (I especially liked Sarah Douglas).
I never heard the name of Douglas Bader before this episode. And even then I didn't know he was a real person (nor how exceptional he was) until I read about it in one of your responses to something. I'm glad you got the chance to meet someone like that (hell, you got to go to DISNEYLAND with someone like that--that's got to be an honor). Even in this ep, he was the one who stood out, and (knowing who he is now) it makes his dogfight with "the Skull" all the cooler.
Funny you should mention using the Goliath/Una/Leo/Griff scene in your voice seminars, Greg--I remember reading that scene in the one you held at the Gathering 2001. I was Goliath, as I recall (very hard trying to follow in Kieth David's footsteps), and Crispan Freeman was Griff. What a fun time!
I like how Goliath doesn't say a definite "Yes, let's fight" or "No, stay here" but just states a simple truth. He's trying to stay out of trouble, of course, but it also just seems, to me, like the most intelligent and even-handed thing to say. And in the next 55 years, Leo and Una apparantly twisted the whole darn thing around in their heads....
Leo expresses some doubt even at this point, asking if Griff thinks less of him and Una for not going out to fight. I like the arm clasp, too.
By this point I had definitely realized that Una and Griff were an item this far back. I also kind of guessed that during the interrum (sp?) she and Leo got together.
The Battle of Britain. I had never made the connection between the wee lad running with his sister, and the old cab driver in the present. Makes the scene even cooler now, though.
Nor, I must shamefacedly admit, did I single out the skull-and-crossbones plane ("the Skull" as I have already called him) as unique. I feel like an idiot now though--it just seems so obvious. Heck, even after the pilot's gone the PLANE continues to be a threat; the last thing Goliath and Griff have to escape. It's an old trick--you have a lot of similar enemies (planes, in this case) you give one a distinguishing (sp?) mark to set it apart and mark it as the "alpha enemy" (kind of like Stripe in "Gremlins.")
Speaking of gremlins, I kind of like the connection with the gargoyles (come to think of it, I always saw Lexington as being gremlin-like--greenish-brown with a prediliction for tinkering and all that). I also like that Bader notices them, and instead of being frightened, actually becomes a sort of ally.
The "no-dying" rule...I have to admit I get kind of sick of that sometimes. Several other animated shows I've seen (western animated) actually managed to have planes explode and no parachutes shoot out. Heck, at least they should have had "the Skull" be stuck in his plane. (And maybe I'm sadistic, but I would have liked a shot of his screaming face just before his plane crashed....)
Goliath's wound. Ouch. I still say that every time I see him get hit. He still manages to pull off some great ariel manuevers on that injured wing, though.
And talk about a tough time getting home. First they're nearly shot out of the sky by friendly fire, then a building nearly falls on them, then a truck nearly hits them (and rudely interrupts Goliath while he's speaking).
And finally Goliath realizes what we the audience already knew--that time is immutable--and to avoid the final danger ("the Skull's" plane) Goliath sends both he and Griff back to the future (pun intended). Pretty much what I expected would ultimately happen.
Leo and Una look in on their captives in the basement (the fact that Elisa and the rest are in chains lessened my respect for them another notch), and after Elisa figures out what Goliath's plan is, both of the London gargoyles pause. Una recovers and continues to rant and rail against Goliath, while Leo closes his eyes and realizes the truth. I love Leo's speech here. And how he admits that while protecting their home may have been "the right thing to do" it's still their own guilt they've been feeling. I find this scene even more fascinating with the revelation that Una is the leader of the London clan. A leader is a person, too, with all the foibles (even Goliath shows that from time to time).
Goliath and Griff show up and Griff experiences major culture shock. I love the punk playing the gameboy--he just walks right by these two huge, winged monsters and doesn't even notice. In fact, Griff is the one who nearly faints (into the path of an approaching car). I just love Goliath's "Let's not start that again." Keith David just delivers it so well.
The reunions commence. I already started warming up to Leo and Una after the cellar, but now it really is great to see the joy on their faces. Griff is also joyful, but it's easy to sense a bit of awkwardness as well.
Goliath tries to explain the time loop, and Elisa does the "smile, nod" thing and asks for the explanation just one more time. "And take it slow."
The thugs pester the "foreigner" again--it wasn't until now that I realized they were racists as well--and then find themselves reaquainted with the fact that there are people out there even more different from them. Leo and Una kick two of them away (and Una has HOOVES--triple OUCH!), and stand proudly...in front of a crowd of humans. I thought that was rather interesting. I especially like the shopkeeper (the guy in the apron). He has his arms folded almost as if in pride.

Well, there's my ramble (and a long one, too). Can't wait for your next one (though I may have to--but I'll do so gladly).

Todd Jensen writes...

Wow! A new ramble! This is the best Columbus Day present that I've ever had! (Actually, it's the only Columbus Day that I've ever had, but it was still a very pleasant surprise).

I really liked "M.I.A." and still do. A major reason is that it was set in London and I'm a Anglophile (particularly since I spent a lot of my boyhood in England, from between the time that I was 9 to the time that I was almost 13). Plus it was a time travel episode involving a bit of English history (the Battle of Britain), and on top of all that, I really liked Griff. I found him a great character.

I found your vision of Macbeth and Shakespeare visiting the Mystic shop together a delightful one (even if you don't see it as having literally happened in the Gargoyles Universe). I considered it appropriate that the London gargs be shopkeepers, on account of Napoleon's famous description of the British as "a nation of shopkeepers" (which you even alluded to in your ramble). (Of course, I've sometimes wondered if Napoleon might have reconsidered his dismissal of the British after those setbacks that he received from Lord Nelson and the Duke of Wellington.) And they show themselves to be further "anglicized" by even having tea! (I liked the little touch of Una apologizing for the absence of sugar on account of rationing.)

I've sometimes wondered what the London public's response was to the gargoyles' memorial statue; since they didn't know then that gargoyles were real, it must have seemed to the bulk of them like - say, raising a World War One monument to the Angels of Mons.

I also thought that the racist thugs in this episode were almost the English equivalent to the street thugs in "Awakening Part Three", "Avalon Part One", and "Hunter's Moon Part One". Rather appropriate that they'd be racists, as a parallel to the Nazis in the 1940 sequence (and definitely fitting in with Griff's comment of "The more things change, the more they stay the same.")

I hadn't even realized the similarity between Demona and Una before you mentioned it.

One thing that amused me about the episode was Leo and Una's response towards Goliath's using the Phoenix Gate - just a mild stare. (Maybe it's not so surprising, given that if you work in a magic shop, you start getting used to things.)

I liked your description of Griff, and was amused by your description of him as a "Robin Hood of the 1940's". It strikes me as particularly appropriate in light of his later on team-up with King Arthur; after all, Arthur and Robin Hood are the two leading "legendary heroes" of Britain. While a literal team-up between them in the Gargoyles Universe doesn't strike me as probable (I assume that Robin Hood is long since dead by the present-day portion of the series), Griff can serve as an equivalent to him. (Of course, T. H. White did manage to pull off a literal team-up between Arthur and Robin Hood in "The Sword in the Stone".)

I hadn't known about Douglas Bader before I saw "M.I.A." (I recall that it was Stormy who first informed me about Bader being a real historical figure when I joined the Gargoyles fandom at Station 8, back in late 1996 and early 1997). I really liked him in the episode, especially his being another human who could see gargoyles for what they really are (my favorite moments involving him being his saying "They're real, and they're on our side!" and he and Griff giving each other the thumbs-up after he shoots down the Nazi pilot). And I enjoyed "Reach for the Sky" (it even brought back memories of my boyhood in England, even though they were from the late 70's), after you recommended it in early 2001.

Goliath's line "human problems become gargoyle problems" is a favorite of mine; indeed, a close inspection of the series (as I've said before) shows how true it was. For one thing, we've seen how all those struggles for the succession to the Scottish throne between 971 and 1057 impacted the gargoyles in Scotland (the alliance between Prince Malcolm and Hudson, the flight of the eggs to Avalon after Constantine's usurpation, the rise of the Hunters, Macbeth and Demona's short-lived alliance). And it still goes on in the modern world, where Castaway's vengeful war on the clan arose from a human problem (he shot his brother and couldn't take the responsibility for it, so he goes after the gargs instead to take it out on them).

Another favorite bit of mine; Goliath tells Una that he won't let anything happen to Griff "this time", and Una puzzles over the "this time" part.

Since (as I mentioned in my comments on "Avalon Part Two") I've been working on a fantasy novel for some time now (begun even before "Gargoyles" came out) which uses the same rules for time travel as "Gargoyles" did (that you can't change the past because your travels there are already part of it), which were there even before "Gargoyles" came out as well, I had no difficulty following the time loop. (One reason why I'm grateful for having come up with those rules for time travel independently before the series aired - it made the Phoenix Gate episodes easier to follow!)

Your comment at the end about Leo remembering "what his business is supposed to be" reminded me of the scene in Charles Dickens' "A Christmas Carol" where Scrooge tells Marley's ghost "But you were always a good man of business, Jacob", and Marley replies "Mankind was my business. The common welfare was my business; charity, mercy, forbearance, and benevolence were all my business. The dealings of my trade were but a drop of water in the comprehensive ocean of my business!"

At any rate, it's great to have a new ramble again. Let's hope that there's more in the weeks to come.

Todd Jensen writes...

I just thought that I'd mention that I enjoyed your account of your visit to Scotland, particularly your getting to visit the Stone of Scone/Stone of Destiny and your reading "Shakespeare's Kings" (I've got a copy of the book myself, and very much enjoyed it). Thanks for sharing it with us.

Francois Ferland writes...

If nothing went right, you recently got a post I made by mistake that included every previous questions I asked you. But if everything went right and the webmaster got my mail, it's gone and you don't know what I'm talking about. I'm hoping for the former, so here's the question I was trying to send last time:

I'm still making my way through the archives (hey, it's been four years since I read it all) and each day brings forth new ideas to me, so forgive me for swarming you with so many posts in a row.

I've been reading several of the comments you made when seeing Gargoyles episodes with your family, and where you where interested in how we reacted at first to some events. So I decided to dig up those old memories and list a few key moments from the show where you (and your staff) managed to really surprise me.

Deadly Force:

This one surprised the hell out of me. When Broadway fires the gun and we hear silence, I was certain that this was a fake-scare. I mean, one of the show's hero shooting another one? Get real! And then I saw Elisa on the floor. And not just lying there with no sign of injury like is often shown in cartoons with serious accident, but resting in a pool of her own blood! If there ever was a moment where I finally took for granted that Gargoyles was a cartoon far beyond any other in terms of sophistication, that was it. And even better, we got that from Disney? Damn, I wish they'd take that kind of risk again for a TV series...

The Edge:

The opening scene where Xanatos, responding to Owen's offer to pretend to lose, replies "I'd fire you if you did". Almost any other cartoon (or live action show for that matter) would have had the villain either beat up or berate his underling for daring to beat him. You just expect it, as it's one of the most popular stereotype on TV. At this point, I still didn't know enough about Xanatos to expect that from him. It's also a defining moment where I also realized that Xanatos wasn't your ordinary bad guy. I don't think he ever really surprised that much afterward.

A Lightouse In The Sea Of Time:

Having Xanatos shown as the one responsible for the theft at first was actually refreshing. You don't know how many shows I've seen where even for very obscure reasons the right villain is always suspected right away, or how a mostly forgotten villain will suddenly be mentionned for no reason at all just to be revealed as being the brains behind the evil scheme of the day.

Maybe producers feel they don't have time to waste on a false lead, or that it's better to give the upcoming villain some introduction, no matter how clumsy it might seem.

Outfoxed:

When we meet Preston Vogel, there was an immediate alarm in my mind. We get another executive assistant type-guy who happens to look exactly like Owen? Can you say lazy Character Model re-use? It felt very cheap, and even though the rest of the episode was good, that particular detail always bugged me. That is, until several episodes down the road, we get to...

The Gathering:

First off, the scene where Petros comments on Vogel and Owen's ressembleance was hilarious. At first, I thought it was only a bit of self-derision, being aware the animators hadn't been very subtle about Vogel's character model, until Puck tells us Vogel was the inspiration for Owen. Great stuff.

And while Oberon was wasting his energy fighting the force field, I kept yelling "Just get in form the underside, it's not protected dummy!". It always seemed stupid in cartoons and comics when nobody ever thinks to go UNDER the blasted force field. Imagine my surprise when our favourite lord and master does just that.

I'm sure there are other instances where the Gargoyles staff played on our expectations as an audience. It gives the series a much more polished feel, that you were quite aware of what we might think and expect and deliberately used that to your advantage as often as possible to surprise us.

Francois Ferland writes...

Hello yet another time Greg! Sorry to flood you with questions as of late but keep fate, as I'm running out of things to ask you.

1. This one's simple and concerns the Children of Oberon.

Almost everyone uses Children of Oberon and Fae interchangeably. But after going through the archive for said beings, you once mentionned that Fae (or is it Fey? No one seems to agree on the spelling) are only one particular group of Oberon's Children akin to the Norse or African pantheon.

I'm not really knowledgeable in myths and legends, so could you tell me who the Fey are, with example from the show? I assume (perhaps or should I say probably wrongly) that it simply represents another pantheon, maybe the Anglo-Saxon one (is it Anglo-Saxon if I'm refering to England, Scotland, Ireland and other countries nearby) in which case, Puck, Oberon and Titania might be a part of it, being quite ingrained in English litterature.

But then again, what do I know?

2. This one's not a question but a personal comment, so I can get away with it not being on the same subject :) . It just dawned on me that by creating such a complex and (in itself) realistic universe with Gargoyles, you ran the risk of the viewers not "getting" many of the subtleties of the show, its universe and characters.

With your average TV show, things are often very clear. Heroes, while hardly perfect, are almost always morally right, while bad guys, which are not always purely evil persons, are almost always despisable no matter how they try to justify themselves. You rarely see a character that can't basically be classified as "good" or "evil", or to use more appropriate terms, morally "right" or "wrong".

Also, most of the time, what you see of a character on screen is a pretty accurate representation of who that person is and what they do all the time. So if someone is always seen giving money to the poor and never seen doing anything reprehensible, you assume that person is caring and generous. It never dawns on you that the man in question might actually beat up his wife everyday, because it wouldn't "fit" with the image shown to you. Yet it would not be impossible, as people are known to have very selective values sometimes. He might feel bad for those less fortunate while thinking that "disciplining" his wife is the right thing to do for a husband. Like I said, such is rarely the case, and what is shown is often intended to be representative of the whole truth.

And finally, things are often easily explained in most TV shows. The villain did this because of that, the aliens invaded for such reason, etc.

What am I getting at? That a lot of the questions you get at Ask Greg are due to the above. Although the fans recognize and live the show for its maturity and above-average (and that's putting it lightly) complexity, they fail to realize that things in the Gargoyles universe, just like in real life, don't have easy answers.

The seemingly benign Weird Sisters lost a large part of the popular vote when it seemed all their interventions were geared for the sole purpose of revenge. Yet, you said yourself that the Sisters have many aspects, with vengeance and fate being a part of them. We at first ASSUMED they were completely (or close to) benign, and then we changed our perception to one where they are only after revenge. And yet, like you said, things aren't that simple, and we STILL don't know much about who the Sisters really are. The fate part might play a larger role later on, or they could yet reveal another part of their identity. In the end, they are complex characters who cannot be summed up in a few sentence, which is what most people seem to want.

Oberon is another victim of this. I admit that I too, thought he was a big arrogant jerk, whom Titania manipulated all the time to get what she felt was best for everyone. But like you made me realize, he has a lot of quality, the first being that he cared enough about mortals and how his Children dealt with them to force them out in the real world for a millenium in the hope of them gaining some maturity. And in every story we saw with him, he always ended up being generally fair to most. He isn't perfect (and who is?); is not above pettiness and anger for example. But his behaviour, from his POV, is perfectly acceptable, if not admirable. And there is so much about him we don't know and haven't seen to be able to judge his being accurately. For all we know and despite appearances, Titania might not be THAT more mature than him.

The list goes on and on. People (and I'm guilty of that as well) want easy answers where there are only complex explainations. I hated the concept of Anubis on my first viewing of "Grief" because it seemed at first that all death on Earth were and had always been caused by the guy. It just seemed so cheap, yet I accepted it at face value because it was what was shown at the time (and like I said, we tend to not question things seemingly presented as fact). Now, thanks to you, I know better, with what little you let on about death-gods and their connection to death and such. And just like there's no solid rule as to wether the Children can go against Oberon's law. It depends on all sorts of things, like intent, bending the law itself and people's words and so long and so forth.

In short, thanks for Ask Greg, I've gotten a better perspective on the complexity of the Gargoyles universe. It doesn't mean I'm no longer looking for easy answers, but I understand why you might reply that "there are no easy answers" or "it isn't that simple", because in your mind, that's really the case. Thanks again for your patience and dedication!

Punchinello writes...

Hi Mr. Weisman.

Have you ever noticed that anonymity cant disguise transparent stupidity?

I have.

The Cat writes...

I'm going to ramble and rant, so I hope you can forgive me if I confuse you or loose you along the way.

Response from Greg to Vanity's question that was posted January 6th 2002:

The notion that vengeance begets nothing more than a vicious cycle of further vengeance, is not only true but is if anything UNDERSTATED. Hardly exaggerate. One only has to look at a newspaper to see that the Montagues and Capulets of this world simply refuse to recognize this obvious, obvious FACT. It drives me insane. Your casual dismissal of the notion doesn't thrill me either. (Sorry.)

Okay, I'm going to ramble on this one a bit. Chew it up spit it out type deal.

Okay, what has always confused me about Demona is that she supposably hates humans. She wants to kill them and wipe them off the planet.

If that is true then why didn't she kill the Canmore brat when he was young and not any sort of threat to her. She could have gotten away with it to, to an extent of the imagination anyway, saying that she was protecting herself from attack and that she just happened to rake the young child's jugular vein with her talons would have worked rather nicely as an excuse. The thing is Demona knew, sort of, that Canmore would become vengeful. I mean, it does not take a rocket scientist to figure that out that this little bratty prince is going to go looking for revenge. He's so spoiled he still needs some one to wipe his butt! If that doesn't say"I'm going to go seeking revenge because somebody lower than me hurt my pride I don't know what does. She could have easily nipped it in the bud and there would no longer be any Hunters. Of course, you put them into the show to keep the plot rolling, but that really didn't work out did it. Of course not.

Also, Demona is suppose to be insane. She could have easily taken out the humans with her plague. Why tell Goliath that all he had to do was destroy the praying gargoyle and then she wouldn't spread the plague. Insane people are not known for having morals! What got me to was she wouldn't spread the plague because it would kill Angela. That made no sense. Demona has always tried to kill Goliath and the clan, saying that they've been corrupted by the humans. Now, the interesting thing is Angela has been the most corrupted. She was raised by humans and taught by humans, so Demona should have wanted to kill her to. Especially her. That would have definitely reinstated the fact that Demona was a villain.

Perhaps I'm looking into this too much, but Demona had the opportunity to kill a lot of people in the last thousand years and save herself a lot of heartache later. I highly doubt that anyone would defend the Canmore brat. I highly doubt anyone would have been capable of stopping her from killing the last hundred or so Hunters that came after her when Canmore didn't succeed.

However, I think I can answer this for myself I just want to know your thoughts on it.

Demona is not evil, per say, and she's hoping that the humans realize that they've treated her kind wrong and will repent, however, she doesn't see that time coming up anytime soon. She also saw that Macbeth's way of handling Canmore was better, not as fulfilling, but better. She, I suppose, was expecting Canmore to realize, later, that she had spared his life and that he might realize that it was out of the goodness of her heart not out of the fact that she couldn't kill him. Men are extremely short sighted in this fact: A woman can kill you! A beast can kill you! *shrugs* I've never understood how come it was so hard for some men to understand this.

Also, I think Demona's looking at the whole revenge thing a bit wrong. If I'm correct she's looking at it as though its her against The Hunter. She's not looking at it as though it is a war. That it is a campaign that she has to plan for. That she has to choose her ground. She needed to think things through!

I honestly have to wonder how many times she has planned out her schemes. Aside from the plague thingy, I don't think she's ever thought any of her things through to the very end. I'd have to say that she never thought about what torture Puck would put her through the night she stole The Mirror, if she had she probably wouldn't have stolen it. The one time she does plan for years upon years she hamstrings her own plan by telling Goliath how to defeat her. Stupid! Utterly stupid!

So, now I've ranted and I want to know am I right? Even to some degree.
Also, I'd like it if you read this. It was the main reason I began this rant. The book is titled: Oathblood and was written by Mercedes Lackey. One of my all time favorite authors. (I know you don't read fan fiction, quite understandable really, but I usually incorporate some aspect of her stuff into my fan fiction.) This book is a bunch of short stories pulled together and the last one is the one that inspired this rant, however, the whole book is good and I would suggest reading the other two that go with this one as well. Their titles are "Oathbound" and "Oathbreakers". They're good books and a must read for anybody because they go into details that most fantasy novels just don't go into. Especially, the ones published back in the 1980's when it was still "a man's world".

Punchinello writes...

<<Gargoyles as well can type on keyboards and relay thought. Lexington with very little experience in terms of years and could only practice at night, was able to punch a keyboard judging by the "clicking" sound of the keyboard at nearly 129 words per minute, without looking and locate Coldstone in MacBeth's mansion. Quite impressive really.>>

Breathtaking.

<<Yet his thoughts were in English.>>

No. They were not. Look. Mental concepts (especially highly abstract concepts) do not emerge from language. It works the other way around. Concepts are formed internally. We can use language to describe them but we don't need to. That's the important distinction.
Consider the acquisition of tool use. A tool you have never used before. Lets consider something like a construction crane. You see it's controls. By experimentation you might begin to discern the function of each control. But none of this is the product of some mental narrative. Pretend you've never seen a crane before. Maybe you're an aboriginal who has never seen western devices. Better yet, pretend you're Lexington. You're a gargoyle transplanted from 10th century Scotland into contemporary America. Lexington has never seen a lever. He's never seen a gas pedal or a start button. If you sit him in a crane and point to controls and tell him what each one _is called_ what do you think it would mean to him? Nothing. Simply calling something a gas pedal gives it no context. You have not imparted anything about it's function. Lexington has no concept that these structures in front of him have functional relationships with the larger device. However, if he experiments, he can begin to observe that if he pushes the lever forward, the crane rotates clockwise. If he pulls it backwards, the crane rotates counterclockwise. He can make associations now, and he can begin to detect patterns. He can anticipate that if moving a control in one direction corresponds to one function, then moving it in the other corresponds to the opposite function. This process of observation, association and anticipation is an example of conceptual thinking. In order to understand the crane, he would have needed to think about it in concepts. Not in English.

The corollary to the computer should be clear. Lexington simply could not have considered the novelty of the computer in words. He would have no words to describe it's properties, it's function or it's nature. If you were transplanted 1000 years into the future and someone handed you a solid metal sphere and told you to use it to write words, how would you contemplate the thing they handed you? It's surface is smooth. No obvious control mechanisms. No obvious surface features of any kind. So how the devil do you write with it? Speculating about it's functionality is a highly conceptual and visual process. If handwriting and typing are both lost arts in 1000 years, then you don't even have words to describe this thing's function.

Think about how Lexington would actually interpret a computer. You have a conceptual understanding of what a keyboard is, but Lexington doesn't. He's never seen a typewriter. He's never even seen a printing press. Do you suppose that when Lexington ponders this device, his thinking takes the form of mentally spoken instructions? Instructions to do what? To type? He has no concept of typing. He would be as mystified by this thing as you would be by the sphere.

However, if he can observe the device in use, and if he can experiment with it, then just as with the crane, he can begin to infer the functional relationships of the keys. He can form a mental picture of how this device works. At that point, he's certainly free to attribute words to the concepts if he want's to communicate them to someone else, but he doesn't need to. His ability to think about the device is not contingent upon his ability to describe those thoughts linguistically.

Proponents of the idea that thought is a purely linguistic process cling to this fantasy that thought is a perpetual little personal narration providing us with instructions. As though a little person were sitting on our shoulder whispering to us. Even if this ridiculous picture of the thought process were verifiable, consider that it would be useless as a medium for thought. Instructions mean nothing without concepts. Even simple concepts.

What about Bronx...

The point of my original thesis on sentience was that it is frequently treated in an uncritical and mentally lazy way. It enters popular culture, not as anything analytical, but as an imagined distinction between those we have to respect and those we don't have to treat with any kind of consideration.

So, is the mental world of Bronx (or Cagney) diminished by their not being able to articulate it? It should be evident that the notion their thought hinges upon language is ridiculous. Can we say they are sentient? Can we say they have the ability to observe, make inferences and anticipate? Can we say they are aware?

Of course. It's not just a matter of our having significant evidence for the ability of non-humans to have this type of mental experience. It's profoundly unreasonable to maintain that they are not aware and intelligent when we consider the emergence of intelligence in pre-history. It's often supposed that these mental abilities just suddenly appeared in homo sapiens, as if by magic, once we passed a certain threshold in our evolution. Nothing compels this feature to emerge, according to popular mythology. It just shows up unannounced. And it renders homo sapiens capable of language and tool use in a single second of evolutionary history.

Now, evolutionary psychologists have realized for a long time, that this picture of the development of intelligence was as silly as they come. Highly ordered structures like awareness and intellect don't just appear all at once. They emerge over time from more primitive systems. Intelligence evolved under the pressures that all species face in nature.

Awareness and thought did not emerge from nature as a means to get us into college or to allow us to write resumes. They emerged as a means to avoid large predators and distinguish things we can eat from things that can eat us. Living beings need to be able to distinguish between these two things in order to survive. The ability to contemplate concepts of things in our environment is just the natural product of species adapting to interact beneficially with it. All of our mental abilities are inherited from our earliest ancestors and were developed as an instrument for them to survive. The development of these faculties simply could never have delayed emerging until after we developed language.

If you consider it, you will discover that abstract concepts frequently defy linguistic expression, because our ability to think abstractly developed independently of language. You can't really describe a sophisticated mathematical concept or a work of music in words. They can only be contemplated conceptually. In fact very common things defy linguistic expression. Try this experiment.

Describe the color red.

The reason we cant is because the linguistic structure to describe it does not exist. It didn't emerge because it does not serve to benefit our species survival in any way. Yet you can picture red mentally. Or any number of colors. Doubtlessly, a variety of hues, which you might not even have a name for, exist in your mind. They exist as concepts. Mental pictures. And their inability to be defined linguistically does not diminish them. You can picture red. You can apply it to various forms. You can anticipate what would happen if you mixed it with another color. But you don't need language to do that. The imaginative process, the conceptual process, has nothing to do with language.

<<Eskimos have something like seven words that really just mean "snow". Yet an Eskimo thinks like an Eskimo and can judge the minor differences in the type of snow they see and to them one kind of snow is not "a" snow but a "d" snow and ect.. >>

This anecdote about Eskimo's having such a plurality of words for snow is often referred to in arguments for the dependence of thought on language. I don't know why. It does not appear to lend anything to this position. I guess the idea is that the way Eskimo's think about snow is supposed to be structurally different from the way english speakers think of snow. If they do, then it's not evident that it follows from their having more words for snow. In fact, I'm pretty sure there are at least a dozen words for snow in the english language. Flurry, Slush, Hardpack, Frost, Powder, IceLens, etc. And if we include all the descriptive lexemes that we count when we talk about the Eskimo words for snow, then there are probably dozens more in english.

This really is not an indicator that thought is contingent upon language. I can provide an analogous example though, which begins to demonstrate that thought takes place in the absence of language. Colors end up being a good example again, because they are such a large part of our visual world.

In Swedish, there are probably as many words to describe various colors as there are in English. Possibly more. I know they have a special word for light gray. Linguistic relativists would take the position that the Swedish or English must be thinking about colors in a way that is fundamentally denied to people of other cultures, who do not have all these words for colors.

There are many, such cultures. For instance, the Tiv language of New Guinea, where there are only two words for colors, equivalent to light and dark. A Swedish scientific study done years ago sought to test the theory that thought must be absent where language to describe something is also absent. However, when tested, it became apparent that Tiv speakers were able to recognize as many colors (and with the same facility) as Swedish speakers. This is certainly an indicator that thought exists without the benefit of language.

<<Luckily for us I suppose that as humans we all relatively think alike even with our differing way of thinking.>>

I find some arguments for deep structure very persuasive Vanity, but you treat the concept in a way which is very far removed from those arguments.

<<This allows for learning multiple languages each human no matter his language that language has the ability to "learn" or adapt to the use of another language and that is quite a remarkable thing. Almost too remarkable to be chance. >>

Has this become a prescription for theology now?

Punchinello writes...

<< (if you infact cannot speak Russian). In fact the communication would very much be like that between man and an animal.>>

I'm not confident of this, Vanity. I think you need to be more careful in the way you treat the issue. What are you basing this similarity on?

<<When he wants a drink and says (whatever in Russian means 'I want to drink your water'); you will overtime perhaps reckognize what he wants through mere repitition. Never though be able to ask him if he liked the water, describe the compositional qualities that make up the glass, or how the purification system(s) in your water plant makes that water safe for you and your family to drink. >>

I don't understand what your point is here, Vanity. What are you trying to say?

<<You can say it he won't know it.
Yet he can still make the moral judgement on his own princibles that he understands in his own language as to if he will leave the toilet seat up or not. >>

Moral judgement? What relationship do moral judgements have with your thesis on thought and language? This tangent about morality doesn't seem to be anything you could reasonably infer from a theory about language. I confess that I'm a little uncomfortable with this avenue of argument. I suspect that by injecting your thesis with reference to moral principles, you're attempting to take what should be a purely normative argument and turn it into a prescriptive one. I'm anticipating that you're going to advocate the application of some kind of value system down the road, and that you're going to take the position that what you say here demonstrates the validity of that system.

You're going to need to demonstrate the legitimacy of the Wharf hypothesis in this thesis if you want to use it as a prescription for moral behavior. Right now, it would be premature. Even unethical. Of course, your point isn't entirely clear to me. I have to guess at your meaning. What I'm guessing you intend is that the Russian's internal self, his "moral principles," are based in a faculty for language. This would be a strange position to take. I think you're confusing the idea of values with the idea of thoughts.

Maybe it would help to clarify your meaning if you considered the following.
1. Assuming that the Russian's "moral principles" have a foundation in language faculty, does this mean anything? It doesn't seem to reinforce any argument you make.
2. Do you assume that moral principles depend on language? It is not apparent that this is so. But if it were apparent, what would it mean? Would it mean sentience was dependent on language? I don't think so.

<<His sentience is still very much intact as is yours, but in communication most of what we consider humanesque intelligible relay of thought is lost. >>

Why don't you just say..."we don't understand someone when they are speaking an unfamiliar language."
I'm bothered by the way you treat this statement as though you have provided a demonstration of the Russian's intact sentience. I think you're implying that we can agree that his sentience is unique among species and incontestable, but nothing you have written demonstrates that the Russian's experience of awareness is even marginally different from a non-human.

<<He can learn but he may not learn English just as you can but may not learn Russian. Words are words, but diction, structural differences, and phonetic discrepencies between the two languages make changing your thinking process from thinking as an Englishmen(English speaking man not man born on England) to thinking as a Russian quite likely impossible.>>

What do you mean by "changing your thinking process?" I can't make sense of the above statement . Is it a linguistic relativist position? It sounds like maybe you're proposing there is a unique type of deep structure in the mind for every native language? The thesis that thought is dependent on language is frequently attributed to Noam Chomsky's theory of deep universal generative grammar, but you need to understand that Chomsky is referring to the basic universal structures that language emerges from. He is not correlating thinking with regional languages. People who attribute that position to him wildly misunderstand his intent. There is no school of linguistics or cognitive science which advances the notion that there are different deep structures for Russian and English. Wharf and Humboldt have attributed different structure to various cultures. But I don't think any of this amounts to deep structure, and certainly not structure based upon language.

<<Even if you learn Russian as to be able to go to Moscow and fool everyone into thinking that you are indeed a native Russian. Your nueral networking will still under most serious probability process thought in English>>

What is "neural networking?"

I think your position hinges upon this notion of how thought is processed. This is where I fundamentally disagree with you.

Thought is not "processed" in English. Or Russian. I'm supposing you borrow this notion from linguistic relativism even though you seem to subscribe to theories of innate language faculty. I would emphasize that even Chomsky, who is the most prominent proponent of deep structure for language, has explicitly conceded that we also think _without words_ in his response to John R. Searle's critique of his theory. Introspection is not a narrative process.

You should consider that it's probably not appropriate to be treating concepts of deep structure in language as linguistic relativist concepts. Eric H. Lenneberg is a deep structurist, and in his study of the biological basis for language he explicitly defends the antithesis of linguistic relativism. He states clearly "that cognitive function is a more basic and primary process than language, and that the dependence-relationship of language on cognition is incomparably stronger than vice versa."

If it begins to sound like deep structurists consider language independent of thought, that's probably because they do. Their position is a much more realistic one. They regard language as a product and expression of thought. But only one of many such products.

Punchinello writes...

<<You say you don't have the full answer. I'm just not clear what the question was. I don't disagree with anything you said, except for the notion that Punchinello and I were defining sentience as simply the ability to communicate. I don't think either of us ever did that.>>

Neither of us did. I should stress however, that I disagree with Vanity, strongly. I take this very seriously. Maybe that appears strange. As I read Vanity's thesis though, I think I detect an effort to base a prescription for moral behavior on what he believes sentience is. And if we're going to do that we need to be very careful. It won't be enough to guess at who we judge worthy of some investment of our ethics. We can't limit the moral worth of some creature because we have a feeling. I imagine people couldn't be bothered to have a disagreement over an obscure philosophical issue. Perhaps if it were just a normative argument being made, I wouldn't care either. That's the problem though. Philosophies are never purely normative. They're always potentially prescriptive.

And since you have opened the floor Greg, to really have an exchange about what sentience is, and by extension, what thought is, responding to this provides a good opportunity to do that.

<<(note if you were in Madrid when you first seen Gargoyles and they spoke in Spanish and of course you did too you might argue they thought in Spanish and you would most likely be right mi amigo). But not as an English Man but and English Gargoyle again not as a nationality but as a tongue. Still Lex's moral judgements can be made too stand on thier own and can communicate with anything Man or Gargoyle or Oberon's Child that also speaks English, whether they think "English" or not. >>

<<Language is not merely a tool for communication it is a way of thinking >>

<< Punchinello and yourself discussed "sententiousness"
in quite lenghty detail. If I remember right the main buckling of the topic of one's being sentient was ultimately his ability to communicate ideas. I don't seem to remember any talk about awareness of thought and decision.>>

Well I've reviewed what I saved of that thread, and I cant find any indication that anyone participating intoned that sentience relied upon communication of ideas. _I_ certainly never did. The idea you're describing in your thesis, that thought depends on a faculty for language, arguably originates in the Sapir-Whorf hypothesis and the work of Boas and Humboldt. I'm familiar with this work, and I've never been persuaded that it possessed any kind of intellectual legitimacy. Particularly where Whorf is concerned. The magnitude of error in his thinking is almost comical. Also, while I am unsure of how you are treating the Sapir Whorf hypothesis here, Vanity, it sounds like you suppose that it is not seriously contested by anyone. If that's the case, then you need to understand that it has been the subject of alot of scholarly level criticism among cognitive scientists. In fact, there has been harsh critique in the literature from both the cognitive-neuro camp and the linguistics camp. It's reliability as an hypothesis is alot more tenuous than you might suppose.

<<If a Russian speaker was adopted into your household, and could not understand nor speak a single word of English, you cannot communicate with him on any level of aphroristic expression>>

Aphoristic expression?

Punchinello writes...

<<Well, let's start with the "buffet"/game-playing writing style. I think it's awful. >>

I agree.

<<Having said that, I have this friend, a garg fan who's now a pretty darn successful writer. When I read her first book, I felt that the first half of it was written in that way. As if rolls of the dice determined who each character was, what he or she could do and what happenned to them.
When I asked her about it, she confessed (if that's the word) that I was dead on. The first half of the book was her almost literally setting to prose a game of D&D that she had played.
I don't recommend doing that, but look at the result. The second half of the novel, inspired as it was by the first half, was wonderful. And she's moved forward with these characters into other books as well. >>

When I indicated that I thought this game-players writing style could be exploited profitably, I wasn't really thinking of more mature, conventional writing emerging from it. Although, that obviouly works too. I was thinking, if you were writing something, for instance, where there was a consistent theme of game-playing, then maybe you could exploit it as a device. I'm thinking of game-playing themes more along the lines of George Perec than dungeons and dragons. So maybe there would be subtle games embedded in the text. But at the same time, maybe there could be a section of the book, or a certain character, which you treat in the game-players writing style. Sort of in the way you could mimic the writing style of the Victorians. I have given no serious thought to what properties make game-player writing read the way it does. But it _is_ recognizable. You've identified it, yourself.

<<But your second question is more serious. Does this process in fact impair the reader/audience. Forget that some of these guys will never be great writers, will this make them bad readers?
I don't know. But my guess is that it's the same (or similar) percentage of people who would have been bad readers in the first place. The good ones will transcend. The others won't. That's my hypothesis.>>

I suppose so. It's just that I keep on detecting subtle trends in the way people in our culture think about things. And I worry this game-players thing will worsen. It's like that business of an incomplete idea of "sentience" invading popular culture. It seems ridiculous to speculate that the idea migrated into the culture from star trek, but if you observe carefully, you can see it. I think people in our culture, are less and less informed by critical thinking today.

Ten years ago, for instance, I don't think I saw game-player writing anywhere. Now, even before this conversation I had, in which we began to put a name to this thing, it seems pervasive. I think the novelty has become the institution. Consider that twenty years ago, aspiring authors could not have seen this in literature. Today, I have waking nightmares that the kid who would have been the next Paul Auster is going to become intellectually deranged when he picks up a dungeons/dragons book for the first time and gets the idea that "this must be how people write."

I'm probably thinking of something along the lines of memes here. Ideas enter the culture and become dominant over time. Usually, stupid ideas. They begin to define the way that people think about things and even the way they value things. It doesn't just erode our intellects. It can erode sensible ethics. Consider this...

I saw an episode of star trek recently, and it really alarmed me. The premise was that the characters travel to a planet where the human population reproduces exclusively by cloning. For some ridiculous reason they could no longer continue cloning themselves, so they ask the characters to donate genetic material so their culture can survive. The characters hostility to the idea is so irrational that I wouldn't know how to describe it. And when the clone people sneak away some of their genetic material to make clones of them anyway, a demonstration of some of the most demented rationalization of science fiction occurs.

The characters go to the lab where their clones have already developed into full grown reproductions of themselves, and use their death rays to obliterate them. And I should be clear that these were not blastocysts in test tubes. These were obviously fully grown and autonomous people. And this is all treated by the authors as though it were the most natural thing in the world. It's simply understood that being cloned "diminishes you" as a human being, and that their absurd indignation was somehow righteous. Precisely how this diminishes a person is never elaborated upon, and I'm sure that the authors never even thought about it. They assume, with remarkable vacuousness, that the cloned people in the lab do not possess any type of intrinsic worth. I know that star trek authors have never picked up a science text, but the poverty of ethical thinking here, compelled me to think they had never read a book or had a thought about anything.

Of course, it's just a silly TV show. Right?

And yet, it's conspicuous that the range public debate about bioethics is defined by these concepts. I'm not talking about the range of debate in the literature of science or philosophy. That remains very isolated from the public forums where most people in our culture consider these issues. In popular magazines and network news journalism, the dominant logic is that a person is rendered somehow, "lesser" by having been cloned. The idea has been in ascendancy for a decade despite the depth of it's ignorance. The people who define and limit public discourse about it have certainly never thought about it critically. Their positions frequently contradict themselves and more frequenly rely on popular myths and emotional appeals to people's superstitions.

And it gets worse. Something far more sinister has emerged from popular, misinformed dialogue about cloning. In popular disputes about it (I heard the notion resurface on CNN about a month ago) the question of "what kind of rights would a clone have" is routinely brandished about as though it were an intelligent thought. To practicing ethicists and scientists, this notion probably would not have even entered the dialogue if it had not been thrust upon them by popular culture. That the question is being asked at all assumes, uncritically, that there is something meaningfully distinguishable about a cloned person which would compel us to assign a different worth to them. A worth, lesser than a person who came into the world by conventional means.

I have a suspicion, that the people most vocally shrieking about the moral dilemmas of cloning, are actually theologically threatened by it. I have no evidence of this. But a few inferences they have made, have got me thinking that their theological picture of "personhood" follows a very rigid prescription, and their indignation may originate with some inept idea that a clone would not have a soul.

"Soul" becomes a good parallel to "sentient life." One is from religion and one is from science fiction, but both of them are shortcuts people use instead of actually thinking about the internal properties that imbue something with intrinsic moral worth.

I hope it's apparent why I think this is important. Magical thinking can be dangerous. The worth of a being can't reasonably be described in these terms. If the distinction between ruling class and underclass or the difference between pets and meat is being determined by distinguishing one as sentient or soul-containing, then we have not really distinguished anything. We're just making things up. We might as well assign moral worth based upon who has stars on their bellies.

I don't remember what Goliath's reaction to Thailog was precisely. I remember that he was alarmed by the prospect of there being another version of himself. How would you describe his feelings about the issue. I suspect since he would have no concept of cloning technology, his perception of it would be unique.

Punchinello writes...

Hello Mr. Weisman.

<<So sometimes, it does get annoying. But mostly I enjoy doing this. (I do think that doing a little a day has been a much better system than trying to do big batches of questions all at once. I get less annoyed when not burdened with the cumulative effects of annoyance.) Do I wish this could be more of a forum for ideas and discussion? Well, yeah, duh. I've invited that in the past, and, P., I always enjoy reading and responding to your posts.>>
<<I hope that 18 months later you're still checking ASK GREG and reading this. I hope that you'll compose your response and hold on to it, submitting it when we finally get things back up and running. But even if you're not, even if you're long gone, thanks for raising some interesting issues.>>

All this sort of diminishes some of my apprehensions about submitting things to this forum. Most of the time I have assumed it's a huge hassle for you.

<<(Although what you quoted at the head of your post:
<<You idiot! Did you not read the no ideas clause on the main askgreg page or are you just pretending to be stupid!>>
is a bit lost on me out of context. I can't believe I wrote the first quote.) >>

You didn't write it. I'm sorry. That must have seemed strange to you. When I submitted this post (all those many years ago) there were two posts in the list directly before mine. The first was from someone who I don't think had ever posted a message here before. I don't remember his name or what he wrote, but I do remember that he was speculating about something you did in the show. His post seemed pretty benign to me. He was just curious about something.

The second post was from...some anonymous idiot. He was the one asking the curious guy if he was "pretending to be stupid." I got the impression he was trying to demonstrate his superior knowledge of "gargoyles forum culture." I found his invective incredibly offensive. Apparently so did your mr. Gorebash, because he deleted his post after I responded. That's why you didn't see it.

I think the guy rematerialized shortly afterwards, as Master Debator, who had never posted before and most likely never will again. I almost regret you decided not to dignify his contest for "king of the garg fans" with a reaction, as I'm sure your reaction could have been very amusing.

<<So a lot comes down to the intent of the questioner, and you can usually tell, if not in a single post then in the range of posts that that person submits. If I get 16 posts in a row asking something like, "Who is Maggie's father?" followed by "Who is Claw's father?" followed by "Who is Fang's father?" or if I get requests for laundry lists of things, "Name all the ancient heroes who have encountered Oberon," then you can bet that the questioner was looking for a question to ask, as opposed to trying to deepen his or her understanding of the show or character.>>
<<And again, I think you can often (though not always) tell by the question itself if that's what the questioner is seeking. A deeper understanding about some aspect of the show.>>

I understand. I think part of the reason that I responded to the anonymous character in the way I did was because I had gotten the idea in my head that it was the same anonymous character that is persistently demanding that you elaborate on the most trivial minutia. From my perspective, it seemed like someone had just asked where fox got her tattoo six times in a row, then had the unmitigated gaul to call someone else an idiot for asking an innocent question.

Gothic Cowboy writes...

Hello, again. I have a question/observation concerning Oberon. I have noticed an unfortunate trend among fans of the series (particularly in fanfiction, although I understand you don't read such material) to present Oberon in an unfavorable light. Even The Gargoyles Saga, which normally boasts excellent characterization, consistently depicts Oberon in a manner which I feel is grossly unfair. I liked Oberon. I thought that he was stern, but fair, and was also very concerned with the proper use of power. Granted, he possessed character flaws. But he banished his Children from Avalon, forcing them to live amongst mortals, because he felt that they didn't have proper respect for the rights of mortals. His Law is also shown in an unfair light. Most fans seem to like to show him as an uncaring, distant figure, who could care less if the bulk of humanity simply died off. I interpret his Law differently, though. Perhaps its simply because I am an inveterate comic book fan, and the topic has been frequently used in comic books. But I believe that Oberon forbids direct magical intervention, even to help mortals, because he understands that mortals must stand on their own. He understands that, if he were to direct his Children to use their powers to shelter and care for mortals, we would come to rely on them for everything, even the problems that we could solve on our own. Our potential would be stunted. We would eventually become little better than pets for the Children of Oberon. Obviously, he doesn't mind non-magical intervention. Puck interferes a great deal, but as Owen, without magic. Grandmother has seemingly guided and advised mortals for centuries. Many of the Children (including Oberon himself) have sired or beared Half-Fae children with mortals. His emphasis seems to be on ensuring that mortals don't become reliant on the Children of Oberon, that we feed our own poor, treat our own sick and wounded, fight our own battles. In short, that we make our own mistakes and stand on our own two feet. Was I off the mark?

Audra writes...

I know that the Gargoyles Movie on VHS has scenes cut out from the Awakening episodes that were shown on TV. You guys did a pretty good job editing it I think. (I'm not sure if you did that or not though.) This is just my opinion, but I'd just like to tell you about one small scene I think should of been kept in the movie on VHS. The scene where Goliath is talking to Princess Katherine and Magus, right before Magus turns Goliath to stone, Goliath says, "The eggs in the rookery will soon hatch, they will need guidance." And then Princess Katherine says, "Never fear, we will watch over them as if they were our own." I think that small scene should of stayed in the movie. If you never saw the Awakening episodes on TV, and started watching the other Gargoyles episodes on TV, I think that small scene is important so people know that Goliath asked Katherine and Magus to take care of the eggs. Maybe that's just me, but that's just my opinion, and I thought I'd like to tell you about it.

P.S. I also think on the Awakening episodes on TV, it's funny when Hudson is flipping through the channels on the TV, and there is a scene from the Lion King. Since I'm also a big Lion King fan.

Blaise writes...

Hey there! Welcome back!

Just finished reading your summer vacation..."Escape from New York" is right! Man, that must've been a tense ride at the time. I guess no harm no foul, but I still don't envy your experience. I envy Greg "Xanatos," though--he got to be your chauffer for the day!

BTW, I didn't realize you were a "Harry Potter" reader! I read through the whole of book 5 in about three nights and a Saturday morning. Yes, it has grown up some, but then, so has Harry.

LXG: I was introduced to that last year, read the collected graphic novel at the house of a friend I was visiting for Thanksgiving. I thought it was a great, fun read (though I, predictably, shook my head at the whole "Freemason" thing). I have to admit I had no idea who Quartermain was, originally. Still not sure if I'll see the movie though, considering the changes they've made.

I'm also not sure if I'll go see Sindbad in the theaters. I'm tempted to see it just for Eris--I like her look, and her animation style seems nice--but frankly, my biggest turn-off is the dog. From what I've heard, he originally wasn't in that much of the movie, but after viewing their test audience's reaction to him (and they were predominantly young children) they added 7 more scenes with the dog. Of course, since I have not seen it, I cannot judge. What rubbed you about it?

And the Gathering...man what a great time it must have been. I wish I could have gone. Heck, I wish I remembered to do the Honorary Attendee thing (I'm still kicking myself over that). The thing I actually missed most about this one, is that I wasn't able to sign the Sperlings' card--that was a great thing that everybody did, and I really regret not being a part of that.

Well, that's about all I have to say right now. But just wait 'til you post your next ramble, Greg--I'll have a whole book written for you then! Of course, by the time you read this, a LOT of what I've written will be outdated. Oh well.... :-)
Later!

Blaise writes...

SANCTUARY

Naturally, Notre Dame had to be brought into this series *sometime* (especially once they started the world tour).
I don't know who I figured the "winged sillhouette" (sp?) at the beginning to be, but I think I may have suspected Demona, because she struck me as the most well-traveled gargoyle I could think of.
Then we see Macbeth with a babe who sports a heavy French accent. It wasn't until she said "we have all the time in the world" (accompanied by a not-too-subtle music sting) that I recognized her (by voice anyway). I knew I was in for a good ep.
And Elisa pretty much admits her romantic view of Goliath. I find it interesting how she so naturally moves from talking to herself to talking to the "snoozing" crew. And of course we have yet another "D'oh" moment when Elisa starts to call her parents...and stops to follow Demona and Macbeth.
Pointless note--I like D & M's costumes here. Very nice.
Elisa eventually makes her way back to the others with the paper and they're off and running after the plot.
Something I'd point out here, Angela never says that Katharine or Tom told her about Notre Dame, yet I've seen several people make that assumption. As far as I can tell, Angela didn't hear about it until Elisa mentioned it.
I believe, when I first saw this, I took Goliath's rebuking Angela for calling him father as him preserving tradition--even though he pretty much states he's concerned about keeping Angela away from Demona the next minute. Gradually, I began to see that this was mostly just his excuse. Unfortunately, in doing that, he was actually pushing her away.
I love Elisa's shocked "What?!" to being put in the role of "helpless damsel who needs protection." Goliath didn't even ask her (or wait to hear what Elisa had to say after "I can sympathize, but--"). He just did it. Yet, Elisa goes along with it. She can barely look Angela in the eye when she says it.
Every time I see Goliath clawing the wall of Notre Dame I cringe. Have some respect for historic sites, will ya?!
I only really noticed Demona's line "In here, my love" the second time I watched it. I think the first time, her actual reaction upon seeing Goliath pushed it out of my mind. I like her line "New York is your protectorate--Paris belongs to me!" This is especially fun in hindsight, because, as we learn later in HUNTER'S MOON (and the unanimated TEAM ATLANTIS episode THE LAST) she has quite a history with this city.
There is some weird animation here. At one point, Demona sends Goliath hutling through the tower and he knocks the head off a stone gargoyle next to Bronx--but there's no sound! I recall that some folks assumed said gargoyle to be Boudicca ducking (probably because of its coloring) before they slowed down the tape. Also, when Demona says "You're not leaving here alive" she seems a bit skinnier than usual (and her halter-top seems to be a bit more...[ahem] revealing).
Enter Thailog. In new threads too! I don't know when/where/how he got that armor, but it does end up making him look even more distinctive from Goliath. And, as per the memo, gives him a little more of a Xanatos quality. And reintroducing him as Demona's love interest! It was a twist but felt so natural at the same time!
Thailog is great here, and Demona's taunting of Goliath is really...something, I don't know. All I know is it's aggravating enough to make me want to strangle her (and that's with the knowledge that I'd be dead within .2 seconds). And Goliath's actions here are endlessly fascinating. He accuses Demona, and tries to save Thailog. I have to wonder at his thoughts about his "son" getting together with his ex. I love Thailog's offering "to share [his] santuary" with Goliath--that is SOOOO Xanatos. And of course Goliath brings up the obvious objection, which Demona taunts him for (honestly, who wouldn't be a little paranoid around that woman?).
Angela, being the good little helper she is, and still eager to stay close with her father, has run to what was supposed to be a battle, and finds herself eavesdropping. I wonder if maybe she regretted having done that once she got back to the skiff. It almost looks that way.
It wasn't until my second viewing that I caught the name of D & T's company--Nightstone Unlimited. Very nice indeed. And we finally hear the human aliases of these two plotters. BTW, much happier that you went with Dominique Destine (sp?) over Dierdre (sp? again). I like their embrace--Thailog's wrapping his wings completely around her, Demona snuggling into his chest when they share a villainous laugh. This is one of the steamiest scenes in the series, I think. You always said, Greg, that although Thailog intended to betray Demona from the beginning, he still found her physically attractive. I'll bet he had his kicks while he had her around.
Anyway, it made sense that Demona had hoarded treasure. How much money does she have anyway?
Meanwhile, Goliath and Angela get into another "family discussion." As someone else has pointed out, Goliath really seems to get angry here...and Angela matches his outrage. Little animation nit though--after our heroes turn to stone, we get a back-shot of Angela, and...she has Demona's hair. A bit distracting.
Elisa talking to herself in the cafe was alright--she has a long established habit of doing this. As for her last line...I recognized that it was a Superman reference (and I probably would have appreciated it more had I known that Cary Bates wrote for that comic way back when), but still...I'm sorry, Greg, it just doesn't do it for me. I do appreciate the referencing behind it, though.
The wedding. Demona really looks good in that wedding dress--and it's a testament to her acting that she looks more comfortable in that than Banquo and Fleance do in their respective outfits. Seriously, those two look so out of place in such fancy clothes--I bet they were happy to be out of them.
I feel real sorry for Macbeth in this episode. He marries this woman, starts to tell her about himself, and it turns out that his "bride" has been his enemy all along. His shock is excellent, and I can only imagine what his initial thoughts were upon coming to in his cell.
I love the animation on Demona's transformation. Very nice, and we see her without her tiara for once.
I also like Macbeth's "Who the blazes are you?!" when he sees Thailog. I wonder what he might have thought about this gargoyle that sounded like Goliath and shared a remarkable number of physical features.
Then Thailog hands Macbeth a gun...and I am left totally clueless. I admit it, I didn't fully grasp Thailog's plan until he spelled it out. Maybe I'm slow, or maybe by this point I just wanted to watch the story unfold. But Thailog is excellent at diverting suspicion from himself. And I love his little "Have a blast, you two" followed by his laugh.
And then he leers at Angela. I partially agree with Airwalker that this might in some part be to creep Goliath out, but I also find it more interesting (and preferable) that Thailog did feel some bit of lust upon seeing her. It just darkens his character more and, IMO, adds a whole lot more fun to him. I don't know why, but I love how Thailog holds Angela by her belt, too.
Thailog reveals the truth, and NOW is, in my mind, when Goliath views Thailog as a true enemy instead of a lost soul. And the amazing thing is, for having so little battle experience, Thailog holds up pretty well. Mostly because of his particle-beam rifle, but that of course also gets him into trouble with the water tower. All that "vast knowledge" and he doesn't try to run when the tower starts to creak--he *is* inexperienced. I also like Goliath's double-fisted punch to Thailog, and Thailog's fall (accompanied with EXCELLENT music thanks to Carl Johnson). Then Thailog gets up and attacks Goliath full force, and it's only through the intervention of Angela and Bronx that G is able to get the upper hand. Seriously, they have Thailog cornered, and only stop when they realise that the battle INSIDE the building has stopped. Thailog is such a cool bastard as he smilingly says "I enjoyed the exercise, Goliath" and soars off the rooftop.
While all of this has been going on, Demona and Macbeth have been having a pretty good scuffle. The highlights for me include that three barralled particle cannon, the bit with the globe (one person gets bowled over by the globe, the other by...NOTHING!), and Demona's oft-mentioned stagger (seriously, how often do you get to see a character "punch drunk" like that?). Then Elisa hits on the solution both I and my brother (who had been watching this with me) figured right away. I like her uncertainty, though--it is a bit of a difficult concept to swallow.
Goliath and Macbeth, who had started out this series as enemies, now are almost like comrades. Similar experience probably paves the way for this, but it really is nice to see the hero show genuine sympathy for a former foe, and for said foe to accept it. And hey, Goliath tells a pretty good joke and even gets Macbeth to smile!
Of course, there is another moment between Elisa and Goliath, fleeting, but still wonderful.
Demona gets her first glimpse of Angela, and her reaction is just right. Of course, before the matter gets pressed, Thailog reappears. He salvages the situation for himself wonderfully (and it's so odd to see Demona being carried off like that...one isn't used to seeing her in such a vulnerable position). And both Macbeth and Goliath have, again, a moment of shared regret.
The episode wraps up with a somber ride into the mists, as Angela seeks the final confirmation for her question. Since Goliath won't answer (won't even look at her, it's too painful), she turns to Elisa, who pretty much admits the presence of the elephant in the room, allowing Angela to cope with that knowledge as best she can.
In case you can't tell, I think this is a great episode--and there's so much in it! Not the least of which is Thailog. I knew from his first episode he'd be someone to watch out for, but this episode cemented him as one of my favorite villains, and led to my brother dubbing him "evil incarnate in GARGOYLES."

Todd Jensen writes...

My ramble on "Sanctuary", in response to yours.

"Sanctuary" is one of three "Gargoyles" episodes that I like to watch (from my tapes) once a year, on holidays. I watch it on Valentine's Day. (The other two are "Eye of the Beholder", for Halloween, and "The Hound of Ulster", for St. Patrick's Day). It does seem appropriate for Valentine's Day, with all the romance in it. (Although, at the same time, it's mostly "failed romance". Macbeth falls in love with Dominique Destine, only to be betrayed by her. Demona falls in love with Thailog, but is betrayed by him - though she doesn't even find out that he's no good until "The Reckoning". We get references back to Goliath and Demona when they were a couple - and we know how that one turned out. The only romance here that's got any real hope is Goliath and Elisa - and even that hasn't quite begun yet, with Elisa still holding off on it, as you pointed out).

I couldn't help but think that Dominique's French accent sounded more than a little hokey.

After marrying Macbeth, of course, Demona now could be called "Lady Macbeth" - and I'd say that she fits the imagery surrounding that name a lot better than Gruoch does.

One of the moments that I find especially touching in this episode is where Macbeth is getting ready to explain to Dominique all about his true nature. (Come to think of it, the real challenge that he'd have here - if the situation was what he thought it was - would be having to counteract the "murderous tyrant" image that Shakespeare had built around him, given that almost everybody who's heard of Macbeth is more likely to be familiar with the Shakespeare version of his story than the real history behind it).

I'll admit that I cringed at Elisa's "This is a job for the gargoyles line" (I honestly don't see the gargoyles as being "super-heroes", at least, not the same variety as Superman or Batman). But I agree with you on Thailog's cunning in immediately derailing suspicion from himself with his "Didn't you search him?" line. And on how unsettling it is when he leers at Angela (and, frankly, I don't think that he'd be at all bothered by the incest angle).

I also noticed how Thailog bears the same first name as Xanatos's biological son - and it's definitely creepy, especially given that Thailog and Xanatos couldn't even have come into contact with each other about it.

So you noticed those paintings that appear to be of Elisa, too? I was wondering about them myself.

One odd little thought from the first time that I saw it: I'm not sure why, but for some reason or other, the first time that I saw this episode, I actually thought, when Angela got buried under the rubble, that she wouldn't make it out alive. It does appear that I wasn't quite certain that she'd make it to the clock tower (too much influence from "status quo" television here, perhaps?).

I liked your analysis of Goliath's fears over Angela meeting her mother - but I wonder if Demona really could pose a danger of corrupting Angela. Angela's overall interactions with humanity have been much happier than Demona's - three loving human foster-parents who raised her and her rookery siblings, plus Elisa - that'd have to outweigh even the worst that an anti-gargoyle mob could do. But I suppose that it would be like Goliath to not want to take that risk.

(And re Elisa being Angela's "stepmother" - well, you've got to admit that it would definitely break the Disney cliche there - the first time that they do a "good stepmother" - and with the biological mother as the "wicked witch", at that).

Blaise writes...

GOLEM

As soon as I saw the title, I instantly thought of the connection between this legendary figure and our gargs. It's fitting that Max's description of the Golem resonates with Goliath.
Actually, when I saw this, I had not realized that there really was a Rabbi Loew, and that legends had connected him with the Golem. You learn something new from GARGOYLES every time.
I liked a lot of the animation and character work in this episode. Especially the shots of the gargs climbing and gliding. They were very well done.
Brode interested me mostly because of his look (and Clancy Brown's voice). He's given some nice facial expressions and character moments. I don't think he's on a level with Xanatos, but he does seem a bit more competent (sp?) than Dracon--that boy's biggest chance to shine came only at the very beginning of DEADLY FORCE when he knocked down Bruno. Otherwise, Dracon seems to avoid direct confrontations, whereas Brode is far more hands on. And, as has been said, he can think more in the long-term.
Max Loew--another budding hero our travelers meet. Unlike Nick, Max seems to have some belief in ancient legends, and though he is reluctant at first (and voices his doubts) it takes very little prodding from Janus or anyone else for Max to do what must be done. I really like some of his and Janus' exchanges. In terms of character, my favorite is Janus telling Max, "YOU are the Chosen One," with Max responding, "Which doesn't leave me any choice." In terms of comedy, I like Max's "What if it doesn't like me?" to which Janus can't help but smile.
I really wish more could have been done with Janus. He seems like such an interesting character (heck, he seemed even less taken aback by the gargoyles than Max--and even that boy took the whole thing in stride).
I loved the flashback of Prague 400 years ago. That moment where the old man falls down, and then we pan up to see the shadow of the Attacker beating him...that was one of the most chilling moments in this show. Of course, it's undercut by the same old man appearing in relatively good condition later, but still.... And the ceremony of the Golem's Awakening was breathtaking. I loved the scenery with all the candles, and seeing Loew through the Golem's POV. And I pretty much fell in love with the Hebrew incantations. Of course, the rest of the scene has some very anime moments. Not just the pink hair on the woman with the baby, but also some of the facial expressions of the Attackers seem straight out of "Speed Racer" or something. It's somewhat distracting, but not terribly so.
I like how Act 2 begins only with the striking of a match. A nice moment.
Now, for Renard. I was mildly surprised to see Vogel with him, but I didn't think it a real discrepancy. It wasn't too great a stretch of the imagination to think that Renard had forgiven him. What did surprise me was their being in the company of Brode. That, and Renard's "reveal" (hidden in shadows at first before coming into the light) lent a sinsiter nature to his appearance here. One of my friends, who had never seen the show before, had caught a glimpse of this and assumed "the old man" to be the main bad guy or something close. For my own part, I was instantly intrigued. Why would Renard have this dark aura about him?
I knew Goliath would try to get in touch with him, they are friends after all, and was surprised at how curt Renard was with G. I like how Goliath's mouth hangs open for an instant after being rebuffed, and then he broods away.
This episode was the first time I realized Renard had an illness. I had thought before that he was just very old, but with this...it adds even more bitterness to his situation (more than if it had been just a natural aging) and makes his fall more believable. When Renard does become the Golem, he has a very telling moment, where after crowing, "I can walk," he touches the cheek of his human body and quietly murmurs, "I can feel again." That got to me--that he was robbed not only of movement, but of feeling as well. Of course, he abuses his new-found power (and now I finally know the name on the tombstone he knocked over, and as for the car Greg, it is a bit battered, but whole enough for Renard's smashing it to crush in the top and windshield). Still, he seemed to degenerate rather quickly for me. I found his turning back towards the light, so to speak, more natural. But I KNEW that at some point, Renard-Golem would say "It's not my fault"--that just had to be there to show how much he betrayed his ideals. While I may have found his turnaround rather jarring originally, in later viewings, especially this last one, I notice how much Robert Culp is able to do with his voice. He actually portrays the doubt, frustration, fear, everything. His acting goes a long way towards making Renard's changes work. Still, a little more "breathing space" might have helped.
One thing I really thought about just this last time--Renard orders Vogel to guard his human body. Even there, Renard has doubts about being in the Golem.
And I also like Goliath's line about "Giving up all you believe in--for a piece of CLAY!"
For his own part, Vogel seems to have thrown himself even more into the role of "yes-man" than usual (probably to make up for his earlier betrayal). He only comes out of it once when he chastises Goliath (he's got guts, that one).
I had figured that Goliath and the others would have tried to get in contact with Renard or someone to get home eventually, but when Goliath decided to stay the course and finish out going where Avalon sent them to go...I was almost cynically expecting that. Yet, I was not really disappointed--it made sense for everything and everyone up to this point. So I sat back and tried to stop worrying about when they'd get home.
Misc. stuff: When Goliath gets hit by Brode, it's with a stun gun--that looks very much like his regular bullet gun.
One of Brode's goons is the thug from the park in DEADLY FORCE. And the driver of the car that nearly runs into the Golem looks like the guy who tried to buy a gun from Glasses in the same episode, except the guy here has black hair (a second cousin, maybe?).
While on the subject of cars--the guy above was on the left side of the car, driving the right side of the road, whereas Brode was on the right side of the car, driving on the left side of the road. Which is the right one in Prague?
Anyway, while it's not on my "top ten list," I do think this is a pretty cool episode. Of course, only now, after reading your ramble, Greg, do I actually realize the importance of it in regards to the focus of the World Tour. Very nice that.

Todd Jensen writes...

About "Golem".

The funny thing is that I was watching "Golem" this morning, as part of my little custom of rewatching my "Gargoyles" tapes each summer. Which means that it's still fresh in my memory as I'm writing this ramble-reply.

I will confess that I don't have as many observations to make about this episode (beyond the fact that I quite enjoyed it). I'm not much of an expert on the Golem legend (beyond the overall concept) - Airwalker did a splendid job of analyzing the use of the Golem legend in his comments at the comment board - so I can only give some general remarks here.

Brod struck me as more akin to Dracon than to Xanatos, truth to tell (partly because Brod was an open criminal, which Dracon was but Xanatos wasn't). I hadn't even noticed the parallel between the Golem about to kill Brod and Goliath about to kill Xanatos in "Awakening Part One", until you mentioned it.

I hadn't realized the parallel between Elisa and Max, either - though I did pick up on the parallel between the gargoyles and the Golem pretty quickly.

One of my favorite little bits: Bronx nudging himself against Janus, who then scratches Bronx behind the ears.

I liked the development of Renard, including his and Goliath's reversal of roles from "Outfoxed" - and I picked up at once on the significance of his "It's not my fault" line. I was one of those who thought that his change of heart came a little too quickly, but you provide a good explanation for how Goliath convinced him so quickly.

I was quite impressed, by the way, with the dedication that Max Loew showed in firmly speaking to Renard-in-the-Golem's-body, as well as with the Golem when it's about to drop Brod into the pit.

I was also pleased to see that Goliath caught on to the significance of the Avalon World Tour at the end of this episode (definitely making it into a turning point). Obviously, he'd have to catch on soon in order to keep from looking slow.

Not much to say, I'll admit; I do have more comments, though, for "Sanctuary", which is coming up next.

Wingedbeast writes...

Ramble on Golem.

A great episode this.

On the climbing. I've got to say, my favorite Gargoyle shots are of them climbing. It best shows off how animalistic they are and how beautiful they are. It really drives home the "they aren't human" issue. They're creatures of instinct.

And, BTW, when Angela and Bronx are climbing up the tower, that's a great butt shot on Elisa. Gotta say. Elisa rocks. Strong woman that never gives up, protects her friends, has a sense of humor, and has a great butt.

If she's based off of anybody you know, mind introducing me? :)

Onto the rest of the ramble.

Max and Elisa parallel on that huge issue. They're the heroes beside the heroes. The difference is that Elisa started out that way. It's who she is. Considering who her parents are, it might even be an instinctive trait to her.

Max? Max isn't so lucky as to have Elisa's upbringing. He's probably had to learn that lesson that there are some things that are too powerful for him to overcome. So, he has to overcome that fear just to go into his destiny.

Elisa's learned quite the opposite lesson. Even within the series, she's learned that, even though there's always somebody bigger and stronger than she is, that doesn't really matter.

Renard gone mad. Oh come on, like you wouldn't destroy a few things if you got that kind of power. It's like a new toy. You play with it until you're through.

But, when Renard was through with the euphoria of the new toy, he was left with the cost. And, that was a great face shot of the Golem when Renard realized that he had become something. It also made sense that it was Goliath's words that finally got through.

He might, logically, have known that Elisa and Max were right, but he considered Goliath to be an equal. They both share that daily struggle of integrity. And, it's here where Goliath really repayed Renard for his lesson in Outfoxed, and reminded him of the daily struggle that is integrity.

The final fight sequence was something that struck me. 4 different heroes, 4 different styles. Max, the Golem, Goliath, and Elisa. Each very effective.

The first time I saw this, I saw the golem as a robot and Max as the mind behind it. Telling it what to do and, like a good little drone, it does it. Essentially making Max the mind. But, that scene with Brode over the big pit, last time I saw it, changed my mind. Instead of the golem's mind, the golem has it's own mind even if it is a primitive one, Max is the golem's heart.

If there were future episodes with the golem, I could see Max going through efforts to keep the golem from becoming like the monsters that he fights.

Can't wait for the ramble on "The Hound of Ulster"

Honey writes...

Crikey, wouldn't have found that 'posting' page if you hadn't taken me straight through. I can answer some of those questions!
ANonymous - WOuld you laugh or smile much when your whole family has been slaughtered and you know you could have prevented it? It's called Guilt, mate, it's the same thing that makes Demona so insane. Mind you, GOliath HAS got a lovely smile when it shows up, I'm sure you're not the only one wishing it showed up more often.

Demona was given her name in City of Stone, the four-parter 1/3 of the way through the three years.

Since Awakening was set in 994, a squiz at the history books will show that the Vikings were out on world conquest around this time, they were attacking every country they could get to. Basically, Greg & Co were kind of taking one viewpoint of a historical event, like HOgan's Heroes focusing on POW camps during WW2.

I'm guessing that all those extra characters in the age list are actually in your stories, hmm GReg? You know how to keep us thinking, that's for sure, mixing up two rather different topics.
Hey, have a great night everyone.

Siren writes...

I was reading some of your answers and was reminded about how Broadway was originally female. I am an overweight female, and the thought that a overweight female gargoyle wouldn't have bothered me in particular. I think it is all in the way the character is. Broadway knows he is big, and his self esteem is pretty good, considering the jabs his rookery brothers make. He is smarter then he looks too. Naive, but so were the rest of the clan, it's a learning process. New time, new people, new culture, new ideas. I love Broadway, think he is a great character, but I hope one day they can come out with an overweight, young, smart female. Most overweight females are all the Miss Potts type. Mother hens, grandmothers, etc. I like the way Broadway is and acts, and I wouldn't want that to change, but I still want to see a similar female character one day, human, gargoyles, whatever. I know a some people blow things out of proportion when a female actress puts on a fat suit, like Courtney Cox in Friends. If your going to make the character humourous, it should be tasteful, not hurtful. Someone for people to look up to, not a joke, most characters should be. Look what they do to mentally retard people, Adam Sandler still does it, and it's still funny to a large amount of the public. (Not me.) Maybe it's just me about the whole thing, I am overweight, but I am secure in my look. I think the ones who bash the overweight characters are the people are unsecure with themselves. But there's my ramble. What do you think?