I'm not Made of Stone - The Lagrange Point Vol. I, Iss. 6.

Welcome to the sixth issue of The Lagrange Point! If you aren't familiar with this budding e-newsletter, you can find out more in this post here.

In This Issue

Distant Early Warnings

• Uncle Iroh in a comic? What more do you want!

Crafter's Corner

• Limbo Divison 209 - Snake Eyes Jessie

Rantables

• "Absolute free speech" does not exist

And Lastly, A Word

• The conclusion of Deep Love

A pretty wide variety of releases this issue! What's happening in Canada now...

Fan Expo Canada's main event in Toronto blows the roof off the Metro Convention Centre August 22 to 25. Big celebrity gets this year, with Rosario Dawson, Bryce Dallas Howard, Helen Hunt and Danny Trejo among many other guests set to appear. And, as usual, there'll be lots of comic and geek retailers, an artist's alley and plenty of other community panels and workshops. VIP passes are sold out but there's still 4-day and Ultimate passes available!

In the world of comics, Faith Erin Hicks returns to Avatar: The Last Airbender with a volume on Uncle Iroh and Bounty Hunter June. According to her Instagram post, Hicks' latest book will drop on August 20. This is the part where I guiltily admit I never got into ATLA, but I'm sure others will be interested in this!

A couple of Kickstarter projects will round this batch of releases out. First, Victoria-based game designer Dave Nemeth is continuing his run of making new games for the Nintendo with The Adventures of Panzer 3. I played one of the earlier Panzer games when Nemeth demo'ed it at Victoria Comic Expo. It's pretty nifty that he makes the actual cartridges for them.

The other in-progress Kickstarter to highlight this issue is Unscrewed , a game by Edmonton-based Mean Hyena Games. I'm not sure about the battle royale style gameplay, but the artwork, which they say is meant to evoke 90's cartoons, is really unlike anything I've seen in a board game. There's a highly-specific demographic that will be into this, I think.

I came across this miniature in Volks Hobby in Tokyo, Japan, when I visited there last year. The quality of the product was pretty dang impressive. My understanding is that it's one guy Ed Zhang, who sculpts under the banner "Limbo Division 209" out of New Zealand. He does limited runs of mostly anime-style girls, with the occasional bunny figure or something else thrown in.

The minis ship in these lovely metal boxes and come with numbered art cards and little lore pamphlets that also show assembly instructions. What made this an interesting build was the metallic piece that was included to better simulate the feel of a nylon gun strap. It was a bit fiddly, but once assembled, I think it looked great.

SO, look, is this a kinda-sleazy big titty anime waifu? Yes. Do I also think it's a miniature of surpassing quality that I absolutely needed to have? Also yes. I'M NOT MADE OF STONE, OKAY?

On September 22, 2022, Thomas Sebastian, a resident in his early 60s of Erie, Pennsylvania answered the door to two police officers from the Millcreek Police Department.

A lawsuit which Sebastian subsequently filed against that department alleged that the police, over the course of this interaction, threw him to the ground, shoved his face into the dirt, then hauled him down to the station, and only after several hours, during which he was denied a bathroom break, was he told he was being charged with public drunkenness and disorderly conduct.

What is agreed upon, regardless of Sebastian's lawsuit is that these charges stemmed from a witness who called police to complain that they had seen Sebastian swearing about Donald Trump.

Sebastian did not deny this. In his lawsuit, he readily admits that he was in traffic at a red light, listening to the radio, when the commentator brought up the former President. "Fuck Donald Trump," Sebastian yelled — by his own admission, multiple times. The commentator then brought up Trump's family. "Fuck Donald Trump AND his kids, too." Sebastian amended his comments.

The police call that precipitated this arrest is not a matter of public record. However, the complainant apparently also claimed that Sebastian "was driving dangerously and nearly hit a curb" as well. Sebastian strenuously denied this.

Less than a month after his arrest, Sebastian was found not guilty on both charges. His lawsuit, which alleged assault, battery, false arrest, false imprisonment and malicious prosecution, was dropped in January of this year.

What we know for sure is that a judge found Sebastian not guilty. Sebastian also admits yelling "Fuck Donald Trump." To an unbiased observer, it would certainly appear that an offended Trump fan drummed up false accusations against Sebastian, police officers, possibly acting on similar biases, pursued this arrest with a startling amount of vigour, and only when a judge finally threw the whole thing out was this farce finally called to an end.

This story may seem trivial. But it illustrates a point which has been neatly danced around by American media for too long: that the constant "free speech" refrain from the right-wing is, in fact, a load of crap.

While that may seem obvious on its face, it bears examining just why it is that this has become such a frequent fallback for so many intellectually vacant commentators. Firstly, it must be acknowledged that there is no such thing as truly, completely, unfettered free speech. Every civil society has limitations, even if those limitations are, on paper, limited only to actions like shouting "fire" in a crowded theater.

Nudity. Sexual harassment. Death threats. Insulting the monarchy. Criticizing religious figures. Countries all over the world police free speech and free expression, and to pretend the United States is this constitutional bastion of absolute freedom is ludicrous. Try burning a US flag in the vicinity of the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier, where marine guards quite literally scream at people to "maintain an atmosphere of dignity and respect" with an implicit "or else" so palpable it might as well be a truncheon to your face.

See how far you get with that.

But it is not in of itself problematic that every country limits free speech and free expression. Of course they do. Because limitations on free speech and free expression are really an articulation of societal values.

When a society prioritizes the protection of people actively engaging in attacks on trans people, for instance, but is prepared to arrest people for flag burning, that is a clear articulation of values. Namely, that they value trans people less than flags.

Intellectually dishonest arguments will try to claim that they would "defend to the death" any kind of expression, but pick at a person's values long enough, and you'll find a limit. We all have them. And when individual limits unite in policy to become societal limits, that shows us what a country is really trying to be.

There are, of course, complexities at play here beyond simply saying "one man's sin is another man's free speech." The paradox of tolerance, for instance, tells us that not all speech is created equal; that a civil society should not tolerate the intolerant. Moreover, we must also use caution when exercising definitions around what constitutes "hatred" against an identifiable group.

The Anti-Defamation League, for instance, now counts as an act of anti-semitism any reference to the phrase "from the river to the sea," with the justification that it is "fundamentally a call for a Palestinian state extending from the Jordan River to the Mediterranean Sea, territory that includes the State of Israel, which would mean the dismantling of the Jewish state." There are a large number of assumptions in that logic, but the broader issue is that with rapidly-moving definitions of "anti-semitism" now encroaching on "any criticism of Israel," we're testing the limits of how far "anti-racist" efforts should go.

So what is really needed? It's one thing to point out the flaws in hackey logic and the precarities of protecting vulnerable groups while not letting them run roughshod over other people's civil liberties. Where do we draw the line?

First, by acknowledging that there is one, and that is should be malleable to the individual situation. But second, by articulating, quite clearly, what our societies really do stand for. We deserve to know.

A society of total moral cowardice hides its head and claims there is no line that can be crossed. A strong one draws the line.

Deep Love - Part Two (the conclusion)

“Excuse me,” a voice called out.

He jumped with a start, and looked about. Nobody was in evidence.

“Down here,” said the voice.

He peered down below his feet at the pier. Nothing.

“Hellooooo,” said the voice, and this time a hand reached out from below, waving.

Joseph crouched down on his hands and knees and peeked out over the edge of the pier.

A large clutch of netting was caught among the tall supports that held the pier up. And in the netting, looking rather calm if a bet bedraggled, was a woman without a stitch of clothing on. This would have been the first and immediate concern Joseph dealt with, had he not also noticed that from the waist-down she had the body of a fish.

“Oh,” Joseph said aptly.

“Yes, hello,” the mermaid said. “I wonder if you could give me a hand?”

“Oh,” Joseph said again.

The mermaid sighed. “Look, I know you humans have your hangups, but they really are just breasts, everyone has them, so please get over it.”

“What? No, I wasn't staring at...I didn't mean to...”

“A knife would be handy, thanks.”

Joseph reflexively patted his pockets. As luck would have it, he had stepped out the door with the trusty swiss army knife that had served him so well on the fishing trips of his youth. He pulled it out and lay flat against the dock, stretching his hand out. The mermaid reached up and took the knife.

“Nice,” she remarked. “I could definitely use one of these in my line of work.” She started to cut at the net.

“Work?” Joseph said. “What kind of work?”

“It's a bit hard to explain,” the mermaid said. She freed her other hand. “Suffice it to say, I'm here looking for someone. Maybe you know him?”

“Not many people around here any more.”

“He would stick out regardless, not being a person. He's a fish.”

Joseph raised an eyebrow. “A fish?”

“Yes. Big scaly thing. Fins. Like me, only without the fun bits up top.”

Joseph clasped his hands and sat on the dock, staring out to sea. “What...ah, what do you want him for?”

“Well,” the mermaid said, slicing through the net and freeing her tail. “He hurt some people back where I'm from. And I've come here to bring him back and account for that.”

“So you're like a policeman?”

“Policemerman, thank you very much. But yes.”

Joseph twiddled his thumbs. “Makes sense,” he said.

The mermaid, free at last from the net, abruptly pulled herself up on the pier and stared at him suspiciously. “You're awfully calm about all this,” she said.

Joseph swallowed hard. “I don't know what you mean,” he said.

“Most people, they see me, they either act like dumb frat boys and jump into the water, or they freak out and run screaming. You're just...sitting there. And I just told you I'm looking for a murderous fish. Again, not even batting an eye.”

Joseph gulped again. “I could jump in the water if it would make you feel better?”

The mermaid folded her arms across her chest. “If you know something, you should tell me now.”

Joseph scratched his head. “Look, maybe I know where your fish guy is,” he said.

“Just a fish, not a guy. Where?”

“He...it...is renting the bottom of my floating house.”

The mermaid stared at him. “Renting.”

“Yes.”

“Take me there right now.”

“Hold on!” Joseph said. “Look, what will you do to him if you find him?”

“I'll take him away, of course.”

“That's what I'm afraid of. See, he's our tenant. We need him!”

The mermaid leaned in close. “Find a new tenant,” she said.

“It's not that simple,” Joseph said. “Look at this place. It's falling apart. Nobody wants to live here. And me and my wife...” He shook his head. “I don't know if this will make any sense, but...this is our home. We met here. Grew up here. We wanted to raise a family here. But...things didn't work out that way. Still, we made the best of it. Stuck around, while others left. But if we don't have any income, we can't afford to keep paying the moorage fees, and if that happens we'll lose the house. And if that happens...” Joseph bit his lip. “I'm worried. We fight, you see. We fight a lot. Because we're hurting. And if this is the last thing keeping us together...well...I'm worried that will be it. She'll leave me. Do you understand?”

The mermaid looked at him evenly. “So I'm to understand,” she said carefully. “That you're harbouring a fugitive, because that fugitive is paying to keep your marriage intact?”

Joseph pursed his lips. “Okay, when you put it like that-” he said.

“What's your name, human?”

“Joseph.”

“Joseph, let me give you some advice,” the mermaid said. She sat with her fin dangling over the dock and patted the spot beside her. Joseph scooted up. “A house is a thing. You can replace a thing. But from what you're telling me, it sounds like you and your wife may have lost a lot of things that you can't easily replace. Am I right?”

Joseph looked out to the ocean. “I suppose,” he said.

“I think you need to face up to that, my friend. One way or another.” She patted him on the hand. “Now. Can you please take me to your fish tenant?”

Joseph smiled painfully at her, and nodded.

* * * *

“A policemerman,” Wilma said stonefacedly, after Joseph and his naked companion had explained the situation.

Joseph and the mermaid bobbed their heads like seagulls. Bob bob.

“And you're here to arrest our tenant.”

Bob bob.

“And take him away.”

Bob bob.

“And you drew the thing on our door?”

“Oh no,” the mermaid said. “That was the advance team, spreading the word. The sea lice would've drawn that. It's a wanted poster.”

Wilma took another look at the front door as they stood in the hallway. “Not much of a likeness, is it?” she said.

The mermaid looked annoyed. “That's very human of you,” she said. “We sea-creatures identify each other in different ways. That's a closeup of his unique scale markings.”

Wilma nodded. “His FIN-ger prints,” she said, leering at Joseph.

“Why did I marry you?” Joseph said.

“So,” the mermaid said. “Will you let me in and take him?”

Wilma shrugged. “I don't see why not. I don't care.”

Joseph looked away.

The mermaid flopped over to the hatch. “All right,” she called out over the music, which was still pounding at their ear drums. “Listen up, Franklin. You come out of there, right now.”

“Franklin?” Wilma whispered to Joseph.

“What?” Joseph whispered back.

“You just...you don't expect a majestic talking fish to be named...Franklin.”

“What would you think?”

“I don't know, something more exciting like...LL School J.”

“Why did I marry you?”

“Shh!” the mermaid hissed. “I think he's up to something.”

The music cut off. There was a tense silence, and then the hatch exploded upwards as a powerful jet of water streaked out. The mermaid took the hatch full on the chin, her head snapping back and the force sending her flying backwards.

The fish popped it's head out. “You've got no power here, shelley!”

“See, that's more like it,” Wilma said.

“I don't think that's her name, hon, I think that's more like a slang term, like copper or bobby or-”

“Shut up you two!” the fish shrieked. “Now back off, or I'll clock you again.”

The mermaid leapt forward.

The fish sprayed water again.

This time, though, the mermaid was ready. She flipped open Joseph's swiss-army knife. The corkscrew attachment. And corkscrewed through the spray of water, like a water polo player on steroids.

She grabbed hold of the fish and held the knife at his corpulent throat. “Gotcha!” she said. “All right, show me your fins.”

“Blasted stupid-” the fish grumbled, and reluctantly flipped over his fin.

“Hmm,” the mermaid said. “This is a problem.”

The fish smirked wickedly.

“What is it?” Joseph said. “You've got him, don't you?”

“I might not,” the mermaid said. “His fin doesn't match the posters. Look at the scale pattern. It doesn't quite match.”

Wilma nodded. “You're right. The shapes are bit off. Does that mean you have the wrong fish after all?”

“It means I can't be certain. He could have altered it.”

“He must have!” Joseph cried. “I told him about the pattern. He must have shed his skin while I was gone.”

The mermaid shook her head. “Can't prove it though.”

“Let me go then!” the fish wriggled.

“Not just yet.” The mermaid turned to the couple. “If you two could be independent witnesses, that would be enough proof to make the arrest stick.”

“But we don't know him at all,” Wilma said. “He never even told his name was...” she sighed again in disappointment. “Franklin.”

“Wait,” Joseph said. “I think maybe I have something. But before I do...” he took Wilma's hand in his own. “Wilma. I need to tell you. We could lose the house without Franklin's money.”

“That's right!” the fish croaked. “Think about your house!”

“Shut up,” the mermaid said, and elbowed him in the gills.

Wilma let Joseph hold her hand. “We could lose the house?” she said.

“Yes. And if that happens...I'm worried I could lose you, too. I'm worried this is the last thing keeping us together.”

Wilma smiled at him. “Oh Joseph,” she said. “I know things haven't been easy. But...you're still the same fisherman I married. You always will be.”

Joseph kissed her hand softly. “I love you.” He stood up. “Just a moment,” he said to the mermaid.

A moment's rummaging later, he returned with sheaf of papers. “I remembered seeing that pattern before. It took me a moment to remember.” He held up the cover page. “The lease agreement. He signed it with his fin. Look familiar?”

The mermaid grinned triumphantly. “Gotcha, buddy.”

The fish burbled miserably. “Curse my love of minutiae,” he said.

* * * *

Sunday brunch the following week was eerily silent.

“Pass the butter please,” Wilma said.

Joseph nudged the still, silent tray over to her.

Wilma's knife dragged across her toast in a dry scrape. “How much money do we have?”

“Enough for two more months,” Joseph said, staring out the window.

She placed his hand on his. “Let's make them a great two months, then,” she said, smiling.

He nodded.

A bag came sailing through the window and clocked on the head. “Son of a submariner,” he cried. “What in the-” The bag lay burst open on the kitchen table. Pearls. Hundreds of them.

“And a note,” Wilma said. She read aloud “'Thanks for the help, humans. Here's your reward money for aiding in the capture of the dangerous fugitive,'” Wilma rolled her eyes. “'Franklin.' How tedious.”

“Good grief, Wilma,” Joseph said. “There's got to be at least a hundred times what Franklin was paying us on a monthly basis here.”

“So you mean...?”

“We can stay. We can stay as long as we like.” He lifted her up from the table and hugged her tightly, then looked into her eyes. “You do want to stay, don't you?”

She brushed a hand across his cheek. “Of course.”

They shared a long kiss.

She sighed wistfully. “It will be a bit quiet without all of this excitement, though,” she said.

“No more loud music, though!” Joseph said happily.

“Yes,” she said. “I never did care for those deep, thumping beats. Which is odd,” she smiled mischievously. “Because usually I adore sea bass.”

Joseph sighed. “Why did I marry you?”

That wraps up the fourth issue of The Lagrange Point! If you enjoyed this little e-newsletter, please consider subscribing, or, if you're already subscribed, sharing it with a friend or family member!

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Until next Monday, thank you for reading!

-Tim