1 post tagged “dork limbo”

For some time, I lived under the erroneous impression that I was -- like it or not -- a full-fledged dork.  I seemed to have all the credentials:  advanced degrees in physics, glasses, and the ability to make women scatter like grapeshot upon entering a bar.  Moreover, I took a secret pride in my ability to author or exacerbate awkward moments with a level of skill and efficiency unmatched by many of my peers.  But, this sense of security, this sense of belonging, proved to be false.  While the casual observer would happily label me a dork, I’ve recently learned that the dork community did not accept me as one of their own.

The trouble began at a social gathering where the geek community was well-represented.  There were physicists, software engineers, hardcore gamers, and people who would gladly spend 3 hours dissecting socio-political undercurrents in the World of Warcraft community.  The conversation eventually turned, perhaps inevitably, to the Lord of the Rings trilogy, and I was forced to admit that I had not yet read the novels nor had I seen the movies.  When uttering the words, I believed I was saying something innocuous. But the stunned silence and the slack-jawed horror that followed my admission revealed otherwise.  I think someone almost cried.

I realize now that the only way I could have salvaged matters is if I had spontaneously morphed into a hobbit and begun slicing deli-thin cold cuts using a battle axe.  Evidently, I had not completed all of my dork prerequisites, and yet the majority of the population would nevertheless consider me a card-carrying member of the geek society.  At the time, I saw only two paths out of dork limbo:  1.  read the Lord of the Rings trilogy to solidify my status as a dork, or 2. renounce my quasi-dorkhood and convince some substantial portion of the female population that I’m not a geek.  One of these was going to be easier than the other, and if you can’t figure out which one I chose, I’m afraid I can’t help you.

I’m sure that if I had read the Lord of the Rings books when I was 12, I would be extolling their virtues and donning a flat-billed mesh baseball cap while endorsing them as “the instructional epic that gets results.” (If you didn’t catch that one, feel free to google " ‘Tom Emanski’ ‘Fred McGriff’ ‘goofy cap’ ").  And, to be fair, the books have been emulated so many times since they were first published that their themes and major plot points seem trite today.  On the one hand, it’s not entirely fair to judge the novels by today’s standards.  On the other hand, if I don’t complain about the books for a bit, my head may well explode.

Now, I realize that posting criticism of the Lord of the Rings on the internet is much like traveling to the Vatican and telling the Pope that his hat looks funny.  Two things here:  1.) The Pope’s hat does look funny.  If you’re sporting headgear that Bootsy Collins wouldn’t touch, it’s time to take a good, hard look at some of your wardrobe decisions.  2.) If you’re a devoted fan of the Lord of the Rings and you can’t tolerate criticism of the trilogy, I advise you to stop reading now.  (And, if you’re a Catholic fan of Tolkien’s writing, I’m sorry that I’ve managed to piss you off twice in this paragraph.)

I can hear the anguished voices of the masses telling me to get on with it already.  Without further ado, here are my Lord of the Rings-centric grievances:

The power of yelling:  If you haven’t read the trilogy, please know that nearly every battle scene involves things going poorly for one or more of the 127 people you’re supposed to care about.  When matters are at their bleakest, one of the characters invariably yells or blows a horn, which as you might expect, turns the tides of battle.  Now, sometimes the opposition will yell, too, and it’s apparently just as powerful when they do it.  The power of yelling or blowing a horn is nothing short of remarkable in these books:  ass-kickees become ass-kickers and the timid are transformed into bastions of strength and courage.  Try as I might, I will never understand why, after being routed for ten pages, one of the good guys merely blows a horn, and he’s gloating over victory three sentences later.

Everybody’s cool with a midget doing all of the heavy lifting:  I don’t want to spoil the surprise for those who have yet to read the books, but the basic premise is that a hobbit (think chubby little person who’s fond of food and getting loaded) is supposed to save many races of people by heading to the enemy’s stronghold -- accompanied by a tiny and ever-dwindling support group -- and throw a ring into a fire.  Personally, I’m not convinced that chucking a piece of jewelry into some evil dude’s fireplace can help matters much, but what really bothers me is why they’re sending a hobbit on the most dangerous, most important mission in recorded history.  With one exception in the final installment, I can't think of a single time when any of the characters in the trilogy expresses concern about the fate of all that is good and holy resting in the hands of a tubby little person who thinks about thin mints and beer all day.  Why do all of the battle-scarred warriors nod approvingly when they learn about this personnel decision?  I find it absurd.  Would you have sent Gary Coleman to the Death Star?  Me neither.

Nobody was getting laid, and yet everyone seemed to be happy before Evil started running amok:  Sure, occasionally a princess and a prince will make googly eyes at each other for a brief spell, but for the most part, nobody speaks of their wives or lady loves, and in spite of bands of warriors roaming all over Middle-earth for about 1,200 pages, there isn’t a brothel or strip club in the joint.  Hell, even the talking trees haven’t seen their tree ladyfriends in a while.  (While we’re here, it’s best if you don’t try to imagine what tree sex looks like.  You’ll get nowhere, and it’ll just make your brain hurt.)  Anyhow, in spite of the fact that everyone’s default state seems to be celibacy, the masses were happy before everything went to hell and the Council of Elrond decided to send Gary Coleman to the Death Star.

To be continued... Check back later in the week for more of my whining about The Lord of the Rings.