Hey, if you’ve tried to sell a book before, then chances are you’ve traded review with people, and if you’ve traded reviews with people, you’ve had to hold your nose and give five stars to book that couldn’t even bother to spell its own title correctly. In honor of that, I’ve decided to start a series of such reviews.

***

The Adventures of Duncan Crockett is an unconventional, post-modern story that some might call “nonsensical,” “dumb,” or “exploitative.” However, pull the veil back, and you will find a stark expose of the tropes of Christian Romance novels. Duncan Crockett, clearly an exaggerated archetype, is an ex-Navy Seal who personally shot Osama Bin Laden and now hunts down human traffickers for free. (He lives off his great personal wealth made by selling his own line of hunting equipment.) The story follows how he meets his wife by rescuing her from Jeffery Epstein’s private island.

That plot line is evidently absurd, which is why no one is supposed to take this book seriously. Clearly, this is some kind of joke. I mean, the author is clearly a skilled humorist, as he paints an absurd world where human traffickers try to randomly kidnap beautiful women waiting in line outside a movie theater. Crockett saves his wife from the clutches of her captors by vaporizing them with his heat vision. At the climax, Crockett discovers a world-wide sex slavery ring run by Nancy Pelosi. I mean, clearly it’s an act of satire. That’s why it’s so brilliant.

And as satire, it’s hilarious. Crockett kill 50 sex traffickers with his bare hands and then eats them. When he and his wife have sex on their honeymoon, angels visit them and bless their union by joining them. The angels are said to look exactly like “Reese Whitherspoon in Legally Blonde” and “Chevy Chase’s wife in Vacation.” The government doesn’t solve the human trafficking problem because they’ve all been hypnotized by Satanic powers, who have also gotten to Wall Street and Hollywood. No one could really believe this stuff.

The one place I would caution the author is with his explicit portrayal of racial stereotypes. I won’t repeat them here, but this book does contain very uncomfortable portrayals of blacks, Latinos, Jews, East Asians, Indians, Native Americans, immigrants, Arabs, Muslims, Jews again, East Europeans, Russians, and the Dutch. Now, I don’t hold this against the author, as clearly these ugly caricatures were meant to push the boundaries of good taste. That being said, others, hell, most, might find these portrayals to be offensive.

Overall, I give this book five stars. It’s an excellent book, once you understand it’s a satire. Yes, I know some of you in the comments are telling me its real, but you lack the trained eye to know a joke when you see one. Whoever wrote this is a comic genius.

I feel the need to begin this post with that disclaimer because it appears people are getting very sue happy these days and as an attorney I know I’m protected by Hustler v. Falwell if its satire. Of course, the truly funny thing about this is the sad reality.

***

I recently received some unfortunate news. It appears that my blog posts will no longer be automatically posted on Twitter due to a disagreement between Twitter and WordPress. While I have no problem posting links myself, I find this fact to be a little indicative of Twitter’s management as of late. Finding myself a bit frustrated, I decided to call Twitter and complain. The following is a transcript of my call.

(Dial Tone Three Times, then a pickup)

Heavily accented English: Hello Customer Service, this is Elon.

Me: Elon Musk? What the Hell are you doing answering the phones? You own the company.

Elon: Well, in case you haven’t heard, I made some layoffs to make the company profitable, and someone needs to man the phones.

Me: I mean, there’s no way you could be this understaffed.

Elon: Then there were the people who quit, because they hated working here, and then when others tried to tell me that, I fired them because you’re not supposed to tell the boss bad news.

Me: Okay, I get it. It’s for the best. I mean who better to complain to than you?

Elon: Well, I am pressed for time, so if you could hurry up.

Me: It’s about the WordPress thing. You know. Twitter isn’t automatically tweeting my blog posts when they go out.

Elon: You can’t do that on your own?

Me: Yes, but I am wondering what kind of disagreement you would get into with WordPress that would cause you to stop this service. It’s a small thing, but it makes people wonder.

Elon: They just weren’t being reasonable. I only asked to increase their annual fee by 500 percent.

Me: How much was the old fee?

Elon: Like, five dollars a year. They couldn’t pay $30?

Me: Mr. Musk, I think this goes to the fact that you never really understood how the internet worked.

Elon: I know how the internet works! I tweet! I watch YouTube videos! I’m not a Luddite!

Me: I mean you decided to buy Twitter without any experience running any social media company. It’s not like building electric cars or space travel. Being good at one thing doesn’t make you good at another.

Elon: Oh, so you are so smart. Well, let me ask you: how would you make money with Twitter?

Me: Most social media companies make money by selling ad space. Have you tried that?

Elon: (Hurried scribbles, as if desperately writing something down)

Me: (Sigh) Mr. Musk, maybe you should consider selling Twitter.

Elon: I won’t sell unless I have a buyer who will rigorously pursue the truth.

Me: Mr. Musk, Twitter isn’t about a pursuit of truth. It’s about seeking out your personal political echo chamber and shouting your views into it to have them repeated back to you. It’s about a million bots trying to sell porn or cryptocurrency to the most desperate people on the vast cultural desert that is the internet. It’s about hundreds of thousands of amateur authors trying desperately to sell their self-published books against all hope. Social media is a black hole of despair that people fall headlong into due to the lack of meaning that exists for them in the flesh world. Political correctness is just a symptom of the problem where people try to find community through online political groups that they can’t find in their daily lives. Making Twitter about the pursuit of truth would require abolishing it and founding some other website where people could explore complex subjects at length rather than being limited to three short sentences.

Elon: Huh, I guess you’re right.

Me: Right, so you will sell Twitter?

Elon: No, I’m going to continue destroying it with my shitty management born of mindless slogans and assumptions about business taken from entirely different industries. Then, after it’s dead, someone can found that other site you were talking about.

Me: I think it’s called having a blog.

Elon: Really? How do you do that?

Me: I use WordPress.

Elon: Great. Fuck you.

(The other side hangs up. Phone rings dead)

Here’s a short story I tried, and failed, to get published. I may as well put it on my blog. Hope you all enjoy it.

***

CEASE AND DESIST

            “And so, the Mothman caused the Silver Bridge to collapse, resulting in the deaths of 46 people!”

            Brian announced this with a well-practiced air of certainty while pointing to the site of the old collapsed bridge, now completely demolished. He stood on the cliff face overlooking the Ohio River with the setting sun behind him. The crowd clapped politely at the recitation of Brian’s unique spin on the Mothman myth. The younger ones gave a few hoots and hollars. The older fans up front took pictures of the place where the old bridge would have stood if it were still around. When you charge $20 for a Mothman tour, generally you weed out the sarcastic teenagers and get down to the real fans.  

            “Thank you for coming on the tour!” Brian finished. “Please visit the gift shop at the Chamber of Commerce before you leave town.”

            The collection of middle-aged monster enthusiasts, young cheap thrill seekers, and old school hippies dispersed from the end point of the tour back toward the direction of the center of town, no doubt headed anywhere but the Chamber of Commerce. Brian promised the Chamber he would make that pitch when the city council let him set up this business. All he had to do was promote the gift shop at the end. There didn’t have to be any actual increase in sales. He also agreed not to do anything to bring the city or its inhabitants into disrepute, so when he talked about the Mothman attacking teenagers in their car, he couldn’t mention what they were doing at the time.  

            One man with black hair and thin-rimmed glasses remained. Brian noticed him during the tour. It would be difficult to miss someone who went on a “Mothman” tour in a dark business suit, carrying a brown leather briefcase. The man stepped forward. 

            “I’ve seen enough,” he said. “Mr. Hostetler, I’m going to have to ask you to cease and desist telling lies about my client…immediately.”

            “Lies? What do you mean lies?” Brian asked.

            “The Silver Bridge collapse?” the man responded. “That little story you told about how the Mothman caused the bridge to collapse, killing 46 people? That’s not what the government concluded.”

            Brian rolled his eyes. Yes, technically the evidence pointed to poor maintenance and a higher weight load than expected being the cause of the collapse, but that book from ’75 connected the bridge collapse with the Mothman. Brian just filled in the blanks. 

            “I know it’s a stretch, but it sells tickets,” Brian said.  “Who are you again?”

            “My name is Mr. Jonathon Stanley,” the man said. “And yes, I bet it does sell tickets. So does claiming that my client threatened teenagers and killed a dog.”

            “Well, that’s part of the legend,” Brian said. “Wait…your client?”

            “…Is very protective of his reputation, sir,” Stanley said. “This is a cease-and-desist letter, whereby we are asking you to stop conducting this little tour of yours without my client’s permission, as he owns his publicity rights, and turn over what remaining profits and assets you have collected by running this libelous tourist trap.”

            Stanley handed Brian a letter on official firm letterhead claiming that Stanley represented the Mothman, or more specifically, John Mothman,and telling Brian to stop his “Mothman tours” or face “immediate legal consequences.” Brian giggled as he perused this very “serious” letter. Oh, it looked so very legit. The firm name “Stanley & Rothbard” even sounded real. 

            “Oh, boy,” Brian mused. “I guess I better stop.”

            “Yes, you should,” Stanley said. 

            “No, thank you. I think I need to consult my own attorney,” Brian said, chuckling. “Of course, he lives in Washington, being a Sasquatch, so it may take a while for me to respond.”

            “If that’s your attitude,” Stanley said. “I’m afraid we’ll have to meet you in court.”

            “Really? Well, will I get to see your client if we have a trial?” Brian chortled. “I mean, I’d like to get a picture of him. So would every Ufologist and conspiracy theorist between here and Mars!”

            At this moment, Stanley’s eyes turned bright red. Two antennae sprouted out of his slick black hair, and two large insectoid wings emerged from his back. Brian stopped laughing. 

            “Gah,” Brian emoted, struggling to find words.

            “If you would like a picture, we aren’t exactly shy, Mr. Hostetler,” Stanley responded, now fluttering above the ground.

            “Hmmm….” Brian managed to say. “You know, any attorney who represents themself has a fool for a client.”

            “Who’s doing that?” Stanley buzzed, his voice now vibrating in tune with his wings.  “My client is a cousin of mine.”

            “So, nepotism then,” Brian said. 

            “Another slander,” Stanley said, taking out a notepad and scribbling it down. “I’ll have you know I graduated from Washington and Lee Law School and attained Order of the Coif.  I argued a case in front of the Fourth Circuit last year.”

            “Right….” Brian responded, not knowing what half of that meant. “Could I offer an apology?”

            “For claiming my client murdered 46 people? It will take more than that, Mr. Hostetler,” Stanley buzzed, his red eyes shining like traffic lights in the quickly darkening evening sky.  “I’m afraid you must compensate my client for the harm you’ve done to his standing in the community.”

            “Standing in the community?” Brian begged. “Why he’s never been more popular since I’ve started doing this! The festival has doubled in size! Last year, we got people from Poland!”

            “You were told to burnish the town’s reputation, Mr. Hostetler,” Stanley said, flying around Brian in a circular manner. “My client has an understanding with the city council, and I believe the city council had an understanding with you. You were to not bring the city or any of its residents into disrepute. My client has lived here since the 1960s, and you’ve slandered him as a violent criminal.”

            “What?! That thing about the bridge?” Brian pleaded.  “That’s just puffery, man! I sell the sizzle, not the steak! Nobody believes that!”

            “Oh, how I wish that were true,” Stanley buzzed, now directly over Brian’s head.  “Unfortunately, our people have faced special hostility this year. I have siblings who’ve reported being attacked when they travel outside of Mason County. When you have antennae and compound eyes, people shoot first and ask questions later. Might have something to do with you telling tales. Something must be done about you.”

            Brian closed his eyes. He shook with fear as the buzzing of the wings approached his ears. Brian fell to the ground, groveling in fear. Then, he felt a piece of paper fall gently on his head. It was the cease-and-desist letter. 

            “Close up within 10 days and turn over your remaining business assets, or I’ll file a complaint in Mason County Circuit Court,” Stanley said.

            And with that, the buggy attorney turned in the direction of Gallipolis across the river and flew, leaving behind a business card indicating he was licensed in Ohio and West Virginia.  Brian watched as Stanley disappeared into the distance.

            “Damn,” he said. “I wonder if Champ has lawyered up yet. It’s still probably open season on him, and I hear Vermont is lovely this time of year.”

I have completed my first draft of Beer Run II. As it currently stands, it is 32,000 words. I will wait a few weeks before revising it for draft two.

Let me provide you with a brief outline of the plot: Bill and Cassandra come back from Earth, tailed by the world’s most incompetent government spy, to find someone has set Bill’s lawn furniture on fire. It turns out to be Jethro Duff, a prominent member of the Lunatic movement. A brief internet search reveals Jethro was inspired by an online conspiracy theory known as the Great Reckoning, a conspiracy whereby Bill’s father invented the self-aware android in order to drive millions of people out of work, leading them to alcoholism, making them vulnerable to being dragged down into Bill’s brewery where they are eaten.

After an angry mob appears at the brewery, pelting the building with garbage, Bill hires an attorney named Blinda Botzel to start a lawsuit against the Great Reckoning LLC, owned by a man named Cody Duncan. To investigate Duncan’s operation, Botzel employs Jimmy, Bill’s intern at the bar, as a private investigator. Jimmy finds that the Great Reckoning, along with the entire Lunatic movement, is really an elaborate scam to sell merchandise by Duncan, who is a classic con man.

Duncan quickly spots Jimmy as a spy, but rather than telling him to buzz off, he instead offers to mentor him in the art of the con. Duncan creates the character of James P. Greenburg, scion of the family that owned a robotics factory in town that was bought out by Stiltson Industries, who now walks the streets, homeless thanks to the deindustrialization of the moon. While the character exists to sell T-shirts, Jimmy loses himself in the role, even participating in a riot that ends up breaking into city hall.

Meanwhile, Bill finds that Cassandra has a broken part that can only be replaced with the same model part made by Greenburg Robotics, which went out of business decades ago and the remaining parts are in the possession of Jethro, currently in jail for torching Bill’s picnic tables. Bill offers to drop the charges in exchange for the pump, but the prosecutor wants Jethro to squeal on the Great Reckoning. Furthermore, much to Bill’s surprise, the DA’s office has started taking an interest in Jimmy, apparently believing that he, not Duncan, is the ringleader.

Okay, so how does that sound for a pitch? Would any of you change anything? Looking forward to any criticisms before I start my revisions. Will eventually look for beta readers, too. Let me know if I have any early volunteers for that.

Okay, thought I would come out swinging on a timeless pop culture debate. Yes, Star Trek is better than Star Wars. This seems rather obvious to me, but I’ll put up with opposing arguments if for no other reason than to humor my adversaries.

How do I prove this? Well, to the extent one of these debates can be proven, I would point to consistency. Star Trek as a franchise has consistently produced quality entertainment since the original series in the 1960s. No one denies it’s had low points (Star Trek V, the kookier time travel episodes, Nemesis), but the fact is that most episodes of Star Trek are watchable, even enjoyable.

Star Wars is a franchise based on three great movies from 1977 to 1983, followed by a fifteen-year hiatus, culminating in twenty-five years of soul crushing mediocrity. Yes, there have been some bright spots (the Clone Wars cartoon, Rogue One, the first two seasons of the Mandalorian), but for the most part it’s a mess of stilted dialogue, thinly veiled racial stereotypes, and rehashing old tropes and characters from the original series.

Why is this? Star Trek is logical (“Logical,” says Spock. “Fascinating.”) Star Wars is romantic. (“Feel, don’t think,” says Obi-Wan. “Trust your instincts.”) The Original Trilogy of Star Wars was like a whirlwind romance and every addition to the franchise since then is an attempt to get back that same feeling you got the first time you saw Luke blow up the Death Star. A typical episode of Star Trek by contrast is about a group of competent and likeable people, whom you’ve seen enough to grow fond of, encounter a new phenomenon, and work together to solve it.

This becomes evident when each franchise tries to do what the other does well. Star Trek is capable of being emotional and pulling it off. Think Spock’s death in Wrath of Khan or Jean-Luc Picard coming face to face with the Borg in First Contact after being assimilated and trashing his own ready room. A logical person can show emotion in a situation where it’s warranted, like a funeral or at the birth of a child. An emotional person can rarely be logical. When Star Wars tried to be logical in the prequels, we got psuedo-scientific mumbo jumbo about midichlorians and overwrought soliloquies about how democracy dies.

You also have to look at how each series treats religion and science. Star Wars famously borrows from eastern mysticism to create the religious worldview of the Jedi. Star Wars does that well, but in Deep Space Nine, Star Trek proved it could speak about the religious dimension of life in its exploration of Bajoran and Klingon spirituality. Looking at it from the other end, Star Trek famously tried to get the science right to the best of their ability, having scientific and technical advisers on staff to help out the writing. By contrast, Star Wars can’t even be consistent with its in universe rules. In the Last Jedi, it’s a major plot point that the First Order just now learned how to tract a ship that goes into hyperdrive. This is odd because in the first movie, and I mean the very first movie, Princess Leia points out that the Millenium Falcon is likely being tracked after they escape the Death Star. She turns out to be right, which means that unless Yavin was really close to Aldoran, the Empire had no problem tracking people in hyper-drive.

I should quickly point out that Star Trek is better in that its heroes are generally more iconic than the villain. It’s actually a pretty solid claim to say that Darth Vader is the center of Star Wars. Taking the prequels and the OT as one series, the main character is Anakin Skywalker, who appears in all six films. Star Trek has a few iconic villains like Khan Noonien Singh or Gul Ducat, but rarely do they outshine the regular cast.

On a political level, Star Trek asks much more profound questions than Star Wars from the perspective of a liberal democracy. Star Wars’ original trilogy has us root for the underdog rebels, which is an easy thing to do. The prequels pondered why democracies die and came across as heavy handed and dumb. The sequel trilogy didn’t even bother, but just had StarKiller Base blow away the New Republic and let the Resistance replace the Rebellion and the First Order replace the Empire, and ta-da, instant nostalgia.

Star Trek, however, takes place in a world where the good guys are the Empire. The United Federation of Planets is a superpower in the galaxy and the main characters have to regularly look in the mirror and ask if they are still the heroes. In Deep Space Nine, a Maquis double-agent points out to Captain Sisco that the Federation actually is a little like the Borg, that they too assimilate other worlds in their own way.

Star Wars is about overthrowing the Empire, and once they’ve done that, they have nowhere to go and so they just go back to the well and create some new Empire. Star Trek asks a more jarring question of how can we be a good empire, which is a more relevant and profound question from the prospective of the United States and western democracies in general. How do you keep power from corrupting you? Star Wars had that question in front of them in the sequel series and they punted.

Finally, Star Trek faces the central problem of science fiction and takes it head on. Science fiction addresses how humanity and technology interact. The problem is that human beings create technology to make our lives better, and we largely succeed in doing that. As a result, in terms of human living standards, the future is likely to be much better than the present, much like how the present is much better than the past. It’s not just technology. The number of wars in the world is actually at an all-time low. Why is this a problem? For humanity, it isn’t, but for a science fiction writer, it is a problem because any good story depends on the existence of conflict. If the world of the future is likely to be better, where does the conflict come from?

The typical response is to turn technology into a bad thing. Think of the Fallout world showing us the aftermath of a nuclear war, where apparently people are not able to get bodies out of the street even three hundred years after the bombs fell. Others show us a world ruled by evil corporations, like the Weyland-Yutani Corporation in Alien. Star Wars has the dystopian Empire, which uses technology to blow up planets. But this doesn’t tract with the real impact technology has on our lives, which is mostly positive. Sure, some people use technology for evil, like the Nazis using Zyklon B to perpetrate the Holocaust or Kim Jong Un threatening the world with nuclear weapons, but for the most part, technology has extended our life spans and made us infinitely wealthier. The typical use of technology is represented by anti-biotics, not Sarin gas.

Star Trek gets this right. The world of the United Federation of Planets is a better world than the world we live in, yet somehow they still face adversity. The difference is that Starfleet engages in chosen suffering. They come into conflict with the Klingons and the Romulans because they are exploring the galaxy by their own free will. That’s more like what the future will probably look like.

So, that is why Star Trek is better than Star Wars. Star Trek is so good, I might have borrowed a few of its concepts to write my own book, which is here: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0BLSVRZN5  

I was not going to write about Harry Potter again. I had an entire post about Star Wars v. Star Trek all set up in my head. This will be the fourth post in a row, and I know that. It’s just that it’s kind of hard to ignore what HBO just announced. Apparently, HP will be rebooted as a seven-season television show, with one season for each year at the school. That’s right, not stories in the Harry Potter universe, but a reboot of the original book series as a television show. I can’t think of a worse idea that will make people billions of dollars.

This is not about J.K. Rowling. I know she’s a controversial figure these days, and she is involved in this, but it’s really more that this is a bad idea. Just a really, really bad idea. This shows that HBO and Hollywood in general has failed to learn any lessons from how they’ve screwed up other major franchises. What do I mean you ask? Let’s go over it.

Lesson One: Don’t Reboot the Story when Nothing was Wrong with the Original and it wasn’t that Long Ago. Disney should have learned this one by now after redoing the entire Disney Renaissance in live action. Or in the case of the Lion King, “live action.” No one asked for a new Aladdin. No one asked for a new Beauty and the Best. No one asked for a new Little Mermaid. Disney gave them to us anyway, and though they made money, I can’t think of anyone who said “Wow, that was what was missing from my life.” Cinderella and Jungle Book kind of worked, because the originals were released in the middle part of the twentieth century, though it should be noted that neither of those reboots were as iconic as the original.

The original Harry Potter series was not that long ago. The first film in that series appeared in 2001. The last film in that series appeared in 2011. That was twelve years ago. I know. I saw both films in theaters. I can’t say that for the Little Mermaid. The films did extremely well. Pretty much everyone I know owns all the films. So, even if this show is well written, it will live in the shadow of the original. The temptation to constantly compare the show to the movies will be irresistable.

Lesson Two: Certain Characters are Impossible to Recast. After making forgettable reboots of its own movies, Disney decided to make a forgettable Star Wars movie when it made Solo, recasting Alden Ehrenreich the lead. The problem was evident from the beginning: Harrison Ford does not play Han Solo. Harrison Ford is Han Solo. Certain characters like superheroes can be recast over and over again. We get a new Batman and Spiderman every five years it seems. But those characters were built up by comic books for years before they were introduced in film, so the character and the actor playing the character had independent identities. As I said, the first Harry Potter Movie was released in 2001, a mere three years after the first book came out, and lasted for ten years, and throughout that time Daniel Radcliff, Rupert Grint, and Emma Watson were the main characters. Not exactly Han Solo-Harrison Ford level identification, but close. Whoever they cast as the golden trio, those child actors are being set up to fail.

Lesson Three: Don’t Stretch Out the Story by Adding a Bunch of Extra Stuff. When the Lord of the Rings came out, a bunch of superfans got mad that they cut out Tom Bombadil. Then, they decided to stretch the Hobbit, which was the shortest of J.R.R. Tolkien’s books, out to three movies, and we all learned that as bad as cutting stuff out can be, adding stuff that wasn’t there in the first place is worse. You need more material to fill up a season of television than a movie, and what we’re being told is that there will be additional storylines which are going to be added in order to fill up space.

I don’t oppose additional stories within the Wizarding World. It’s like additional Star Wars movies. It’s kind of hard to oppose something that is inevitable. Going back and changing the original stories, however, never ends well. This is less like releasing additional Star Wars movies and more like changing the first Star Wars movie to have Greedo shoot first.

And yet, inevitably, it will make money. Once again, whatever you think of J.K. Rowling, the wizarding world makes money wherever it is. Some people were down on the latest Fantastic Beast movie. It still made over $400 million. And that’s with COVID keeping people away from theaters, one group of people who hate J. K. Rowling, another group of people who hate Johnny Depp, and the fact that this is now the eleventh Harry Potter movie. It still makes money, and that’s why we keep getting more of it.

The real problem here is that we need to be pushed to embrace new stories. Remember when America produced new stories? Yeah, I know Hollywood has been doing reboots forever, including like 25 versions of the Wizard of Oz in the 1920s and 1930s, but they knew to stop after they finally got it right. There’s a lot of 80s nostalgia going on right now, but I think that what was great about that era is the fact that the stuff Hollywood keeps regurgitating at us was new. Yeah, remember back when Ghostbusters was a smash hit that came out of nowhere and not a franchise that just pumps out one movie after another in hopes of getting a few guaranteed hundred million? Our culture used to come up with new ideas.

Well, here’s a new idea: a man trying to run a microbrewery on the moon. You can order that book here:

Okay, so I don’t have any other idea to write about, so I am spleening about every inconsistency in the Harry Potter series. Now, I am a Millennial, but before you start saying “Read Another Book,” I must tell you that the last few weeks have been great for my Twitter follower count, so there’s that.

I don’t have a plot hole this week. I have a complaint about the HP world building. Namely, why does Slytherin House exist? Okay, I know that technically Slytherin is the house for people with “great ambition,” but originally the entire point of the house was a place to put all of the evil wizards. Hagrid even says every wizard who ever went bad was in Slytherin. (I guess Peter Pettigrew is an exception) Every character we are supposed to hate is in Slytherin and while there may be some decent people from the house, like Snape and Slughorn, it’s basically the asshole house.

Being sorted into Slytherin is like being told to your face that you are going to Hell. No, really, think about it. The Sorting Hat has perfect knowledge of the mind and soul of every person who is sorted, and it tells some people they belong in the same house as Voldemort whose mascot is a classic symbol of evil from the Bible. Almost like some kind of infinitely just and wise being telling you that you should share a zip code with Hitler in the afterlife or something.

I don’t mean to say that the existence of Slytherin is bad writing. Yes, it’s a pretty black and white world J.K. Rowling made, but it’s a children’s book. Furthermore, when she tried to introduce shades of grey in the later books, the stories got worse, particularly the last one. That isn’t to say the last books were bad, they just weren’t as good as the early ones. Rowling does shades of grey better than George Lucas does, but not as well as either of them do good vs. evil. The dropoff from books 1-3 of Harry Potter to the rest of the series is not nearly as bad as the dropoff from the Original Star Wars Trilogy to the “morally complex” sequels.

No, I mean looking at it from the perspective of people in universe, why do they educate people they know have a high likelihood of turning into bad wizards. Why don’t they just use the Sorting Hat to identify who bad wizards are (which it practically already does), snap their wands in half, and send them packing?

Well, there’s an answer to this question. You have to think of the Wizarding World as having a social contract, just like ours does. Order comes from making compromises between the various parts of society so that everyone feels like they have a place at the table. Imagine if the ministry did just expel all the Slytherins and snap their wands in half? What would happen then?

The Slytherins aren’t going to just take that lying down. After all, they include some of the oldest and wealthiest wizarding families in the United Kingdom. They can buy new wands, and if Ollivander won’t sell to them, they’ll go abroad or more likely start their own wand shop. And then they will start their own magic school. What do you think that place will be like?

We get a pretty good idea in the fourth book. Draco mentions that Durmstrang teaches the Dark Arts, not just defense against the Dark Arts. The headmaster is a former Death Eater. A Durmstrang equivalent in the UK would likely lead to multiple wars.

That’s why Slytherin house exists. It’s better to have the Slytherins at Hogwarts taking OWLS than it is to have the Malfoy, the Lestranges, and the Blacks of the world founding their own school and teaching their children the Unforgiveable Curses at the age of eleven. Hogwarts is a unifying institution in that everyone in British Wizarding World goes there. If the Slytherins had their own school, they’d probably form their own society in their own section of Britain, and how difficult would maintaining the Statute of Secrecy be when the Slytherins are holed up in Scotland killing muggles for fun?

Now, there is a problem with all of this. Namely, this already happened. In both wizarding wars. Voldemort comes on the scene, and despite the effort by everyone else to integrate Slytherins into the rest of society, even giving them cushy government jobs, they go crazy and start trying to take over. Social contract broken.

This happens. In the U.S., we have a social contract called the Constitution, and that worked pretty well until we had a Civil War and it didn’t. So, after the Civil War was over, we amended the Constitution three times. Europe had an informal balance of powers in the nineteenth century, which fell apart in World War I. They tried, and failed, to reform their contract in the interwar years, but after World War II a new set of international institutions, NATO, the EU, the UN, gradually took shape.

The problem with the Wizarding World is that after being threatened by Voldemort and the Death Eaters, their social contract remains completely unchanged. When the first book begins, we are ten years away from a Slytherin led revolt against the system, and the Soring Hat is still doing what it always did. We’re even told that the people directly responsible made up stories about how they were hypnotized into being Death Eaters. No changes to the system have been made to prevent this from happening again. And hey, what do you know, it does! Voldemort returns, the same people who led the attack the last time rally around him due to either fear or enthusiasm, and this time they even overthrow the government for a full year.

A lot of people don’t like the Epilogue, and I didn’t mind it from a story standpoint, but what bothers me in hindsight is that it shows once again that the Wizarding World has done nothing to modify their social contract to prevent another Wizarding War. Harry’s child worries openly about being sorted into Slytherin, which indicates that it still exists. Draco is there despite having played an active role in assassinating Dumbledore, apparently a free man. It’s like if we had a Civil War and decided to just let the South keep its slaves. At least Europe tried to change during the interwar period. Wizarding Britain just keeps going with the same system that failed twice without anyone asking “Why did this happen?” or “How can we keep it from happening again?” Inevitably, some other dark wizard will rise, and another war will start.

Now, I don’t know how I would change this. Yes, yes, I do. Abolish Slytherin house. Tell the Sorting Hat to put the Slytherins in other houses. If the parents complain, tell them that if you start a war, you better win it. The public will support you given the last two wars they had to live through. Half of these people should be in Azkaban anyway. Have tolerance training seminars at Hogwarts. Do something.

If you would like to do something, buy my book: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0BLSVRZN5 

Let’s call this “Jack Willems and the Bad Case of Writers Block.” After last week’s post, I’m still thinking about Harry Potter. Yes, just like a stereotypical millennial, I can’t get my mind off those books. At least for now. During my last theory, I mentioned Sirius’s death and my belief that Harry was responsible for it, despite Dumbledore sugar coating it. Now, a week later, I have reconsidered. Harry still acted stupidly, but he wasn’t the most responsible person for Sirius’s death. No, that would be Sirius himself.

This doesn’t have to do with his getting into a fight at the ministry. There’s no reason he shouldn’t have been in that fight. No, this has to do with the mirror. Yes, the two-way mirror. Sirius gave Harry a two-way mirror before he went back to school on Christmas, so Harry could contact Sirius any time he wanted to. Harry only finds this out after Sirius is dead because he never opens the package. Then, presumably he forgets about it, because Harry goes to the ministry because Voldemort made him imagine that Sirius was being tortured there. Harry never feels guilty about this (which I find to be odd), but if Harry had known about the mirror, he would have contacted Sirius using the mirror and not used the fireplace in Umbridge’s office, he never would have gone to the ministry, which was an obvious trap, and Sirius never would have died. All of this was utterly dumb, but not as dumb as what Sirius did.

What did he do? He didn’t tell Harry what the gift was. No, not at Grimmauld Place. Molly Weasley would have sniffed that out. Nope, I’m talking about the first time Harry used the fireplace. Earlier in the book, before Harry fell for the world’s most obvious trap, he experienced Snape’s memory of Harry’s father and the rest of the marauders bullying him. Harry is seized with the need to speak with Sirius, which would be fine if he bothered to look inside the package Sirius gave him saying use this if you ever need to speak to me. However, Harry didn’t do this and decides he needs to use the only unmonitored fireplace in the castle, the one in Umbridge’s office, leading the Weasley twins to turn the Great Hall into a swamp as a distraction. Harry sneaks into the office and uses the fireplace to speak with Sirius, and if Sirius was a logical human being, here is how that conversation would go.

Sirius: Harry, you’re using the floo network to speak with me. Why?

Harry: I saw one of Snape’s memories I need to talk to you about.

Sirius: No, I mean I gave you a two-way mirror to speak to me whenever you want. It’s that package I gave you at Christmas. Why are you using the floo network?

Harry: Really? This is embarrassing, but I never opened it. I guess I kind of forgot about it.

Sirius: Harry, whatever you need to talk to me about, this can’t be a safe way to communicate.

Harry: Actually, no, it’s not. I guess I should cut this short.

Why didn’t Sirius do this? Yes, other people have found this plot hole, but it just irritates me more now that I’m a writer. When people don’t behave rationally in books, it bothers me now. That’s how writing changes you.

Indeed, there are a lot of things about Harry Potter that don’t make sense in retrospect. Things like, why didn’t they examine Sirius’s memories before he was sent to Azkaban. Dumbledore may have testified against him, but why bother with testimony at all in a world where Pensieves exist? How did Sirius stay in Azkaban when all the other Death Eaters know that the traitor is Peter. You expect me to believe no one would try to cut a deal when they had that kind of dirt to spill?

If Hogwarts is connected to the Floo Network, why does Molly Weasley have to send Ron a howler to chew him out? Why not do it in person? Hell, why are parents not visiting all the time? Why have dorms? Wouldn’t it be easier for students to just take the floor network every day? Does the Hogwarts Express serve any non-plot purpose? Why not just use a Portkey? If the Hogwarts Express serves no purpose, why did Ron think taking the flying car was the best way to get to Hogwarts after being shut out of the barrier in the second book? There are a thousand better ways to get to Hogwarts. Arthur Weasley could just hold Ron and Harry’s hands, apparate in Hogsmeade, and they could walk there. Shouldn’t Ron know this?

You could keep going. I guess the answer is that nothing and nobody in this world is perfect, so it’s pointless to complain. Consider in the Wizard of Oz how Dorothy is able to go home the whole time by just clicking her heels, but Glenda makes her go through the entire rigamarole of walking to Oz and killing the witch “to learn a lesson.” I can’t be the only person who threw my bottle at the screen when I first heard that.

Oh, and by the way, buy Beer Run: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0BLSVRZN5  

Okay, so I know I should be using this blog to promote Beer Run, which is available here: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0BLSVRZN5, but I’ve need to talk about something that has been bugging me for a while. I think I found a flaw in the Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone. I don’t mean things like “Harry is a Gary Stu” or “there are too many adverbs.” I mean a plot hole. Spoiler alert for Harry Potter and the Sorcerer Stone, though if you need a spoiler alert for this book, I’m going to ask you if would like to meet President Biden because apparently you’re a martian.

Okay, by comparison, let’s look at Indiana Jones and the Raiders of Lost Ark. It has been pointed out that Indy objectively accomplished nothing in that movie. He sets out to keep the Nazis from the Ark, and he fails. In the end, the Nazis get the Ark, and it kills all of them. Best case scenario, they take it all the way to Berlin and open it in front of Hitler and the rest of the Nazi leadership. I think Cracked pointed this out, and then the Big Bang Theory did, though inevitably there have been Reddit posts about this. Indy should have just stayed at home.

Now, let’s look at Harry’s decision in the Sorcerer’s Stone (or the Philosopher’s Stone if your British), to go down into the maze and protect the stone. Hell, let’s say he and Ron and Hermione never bother getting interested in the stone in the first place and just spend their time doing normal 11-year-old wizard stuff. What happens? Well, the last protection the stone has is the Mirror of the Erised, and Quirrell can’t crack it. The Mirror of the Erised shows those who gaze upon it whatever their deepest heart’s desire is. The catch is that it will only surrender the stone to someone who wants to have the stone, but not someone who wants to use it. Quirrell just sees himself resurrecting Voldemort. It’s not until Harry steps in front of the mirror that the stone materializes in his pocket.

So, what if Harry just decides to go to bed early that night? Simple, Quirrell and Voldemort don’t get the stone. Indeed, Voldemort only gets close to the stone precisely because Harry shows up right when Voldemort needs him to. Looking at it objectively, it would have been better if he just listened to Prof. McGonagall and did nothing. Then he could have at least played quidditch and won the cup.

Now, this is a children’s book, which is often forgotten, but it still bothers me. Certainly, Dumbledore must understand this. He’s an intelligent man. Why didn’t he tell Harry that he acted like an idiot, other than, you know, the fact that this is a book? Why reward Harry for thinking that he was able to protect the stone better than Dumbledore and every other teacher at the school combined? Above all, why give Gryffindor the house cup and thus ensure that Lucius Malfory’s attorney sends him a rather angry letter?

Now, the argument may be made that this looks at Harry’s actions purely from a utilitarian standpoint, when Dumbledore might be looking at this from a virtue ethics perspective. Sure, the consequences of Harry’s actions might have been bad, though ultimately, they weren’t, but his actions improve his moral character, which is what’s really important.

Except, no, it wasn’t improving his moral character. Instead, it exacerbated his greatest flaw: his need to be a hero. Sometimes, like in the Chamber of Secrets or in the last book, this flaw becomes a virtue, but other times it gets people killed. No, really, in the fifth book, Harry decides only he can save Sirius, and ends up walking into a trap that gets Sirius killed. And he does this while his friends, who know him pretty well, tell him to his face that this is a trap set up for him because his enemies know he needs to be a hero. Dumbledore sugar coats it for him, but in the end, Harry’s at fault. Though, Dumbledore is a little easy on Harry, likely because he encouraged Harry to be this way. Whenever Harry risked his life, and others, Dumbledore responded by giving Harry points for Gryffindor up and till the point someone died. After all, most of the time when Harry does this sort of thing, it works out.

Now, I did search for people who have noticed this same problem on the wide world of the internet, and yes, a few people on Quora and Reddit have pointed out that without Harry, Quirrell couldn’t do shit. Still, I can’t remember any major cultural heavyweight to bring this up. Why? It’s sitting right there in plain view! If someone can point to some place where this has been extensively discussed, I’d appreciate it. Am I off base and missing something in this situation? Tell me, I’d love to hear it. And buy Beer Run. Here’s the link again: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0BLSVRZN5.

I will be talking about Beer Run with other authors on the Book Slam this Wednesday at 3 pm Eastern Time. Here is a link to their YouTube page. Looking forward to talking up my book. The Book Slam – YouTube