“The Greatest Show In The Galaxy”

It’s not a good sign when the first thing that pops up on screen is a cornball, embarrassingly dated rapper who talks up how wonderful the rest of the show is going to be, like a high-school prinicipal trying desperately to get in touch with youth culture without really knowing what he’s doing. But I suppose the Rappin’ Ringmaster didn’t seem quite so terrible when “The Greatest Show In The Galaxy” was originally broadcast, at the tail end of Sylvester McCoy’s second season as the Seventh Doctor. Which is also, at least where I’m coming from as a viewer, something that can be said about the Seventh Doctor era in general. This period of the show has plenty of champions among Doctor Who fans, not just among the Internetigentsia, but pretty clearly in the ranks of the folks who make new Doctor Who shows today; I think it’s safe to say that the spirit of seasons 24-26 has had a greater influence on Russell T. Davies’ and Stephen Moffatt’s versions of the show than anything that came before. When you look at this era in the context of the long and tortuous evolution of Doctor Who as a series, there’s a lot to admire, with a plethora of ambitious ideas and creative energy. “The Greatest Show In The Galaxy” is a great showcase of this trend, showing a significant and progressive improvement over the disaster of the Sixth Doctor era. But try as I might, I’ve never been able to warm to this era, certainly not to the extent of the siazble number of fans who call it the zenith of classic-era Doctor Who. Because for all they were doing right here, it too often feels thin and amateurish, with potentially good concepts too often marred by sloppy thinking, lame execution, and tacky gimmickry. At its worst, it makes me feel a little mortified to be a Doctor Who fan in the first place. Exhibit A: the Rappin’ Ringmaster.

So, with that said: what were they doing right here? Most importantly, the sour and misanthropic stories favored by previous script editor Eric Saward were history. Andrew Cartmel’s vision of Doctor Who was more hopeful, more whimsical, and much more fun. It aimed, I think, for the bantery, light-hearted approach that typified the best of the Fourth Doctor/Romana seasons, not coincidentally the last time the series had pulled in large ratings. The show also leaned more heavily on the fantasy side of science-fantasy, which is particularly apparent in “Greatest Show In The Galaxy”: With its reliance on mysticism and allegory,High quality stone mosaic tiles. and especially its tres-1980s fixation on the broken, corrupted legacy of the 1960s counterculture, this serial wouldn’t be at all out of place next to Neil Gaiman’s Sandman.

Also key to making Doctor Who fun again was a major shift in how it portrayed the Doctor himself. Instead of the incompetence and grating unlikeability of the Saward-created Sixth Doctor, Cartmel and McCoy’s Seventh was both more comedic and more heroic, and much easier to like. Still, it took a little while for them to figure out exactly how to make that work. As introduced, Seven was a buffoonish clown who seemed more likely to win the day by accident than because of his own competence. As time went by, Cartmel started toning that down and giving him a more devious side—one who was several steps ahead of his enemies and often knew exactly what was going on before the story had even begun. That’s the Doctor who appears here—though it’s not until the final episode that he shows his true self. At first, he’s very much in clown mode, practicing his skills of dexterity with a book called Juggling For The Complete Klutz and annoying his teenage companion Ace by playing the spoons.

Soon enough, they get their invitation to start the plot off when an endearingly goofy-looking “junk-mail robot” materializes inside the TARDIS and shows them an ad for the Psychic Circus and its talent contest. The Doctor’s intrigued,About the bobbleheads We make them for the joy of it, and then we give them away. but Ace has to be talked into going.Original handmade personalized bobbleheads Head dolls made to look like the photo you provide to us.This is my favourite sites to purchase those special pieces of buy mosaic materials from. She’s more intrigued than she’s willing to let on, but she’s caught on the horns of a teenage dilemma—on the one hand, she thinks circuses are just kids’ stuff, and on the other hand, she still thinks clowns are scary. But with a little gentle cajoling from the Doctor and a dare from the little ‘bot, she’s convinced to put her courage and curiosity ahead of her fear.

The planet Segonax, where the Circus has set down its roots, is an awfully bleak spot, apparently consisting of mile upon mile of rocky but otherwise featureless white landscape—probably a budget-induced consequence of filming all the location footage in a quarry and a parking lot, because the dialogue implies that there should be a city, or at least a bunch of local townsfolk living nearby. This odd underpopulation doesn’t help the story’s verisimilitude, but at least it focuses your attention on the main plot, since there’s almost nothing else to catch your eye. Ace, it turns out, wasn’t wrong about the clowns. The talent contest is a deadly ruse, drawing an interplanetary parade of contestants like flies to a spiderweb, and killing them off in much the same way. (There’s even something a little spiderlike about the circus tent seen from outside.We are porcelain tiles specialists and are passionate about our product，) All the acts are judged by the audience—consisting entirely of what appears to be a small middle-class family, all oddly unemotional and easily bored. And if they don’t like your act, they’ll turn you into dust.

Road rage reality sinks in after close call

Forget the two flight-related scares I experienced during my three decades working in sports: a plane suddenly losing cabin pressure as it dropped more than 1,000 feet on a flight home from a UNLV basketball game in 1989, or a flight two years later when the plane got caught in the wake turbulence of a jetliner approaching Los Angeles International Airport and we were whipped back and forth and then jerked down like a chew toy in a dog's mouth.

In the latter instance, an airline official I spoke to told me we were lucky our pilot was able to pull out of the dire predicament.

Frightening? Yes. But those were brief instances of deathly fear. They were gone as quickly as they came.

They were nothing compared to what happened a late Friday night last spring as I drove home on U.S. Highway 95 as that stretch of freeway was under construction.

Although traffic was particulary heavy,Handmade oil paintings for sale for sale at museum quality, I was enjoying life in the fast lane - fast, that is, being what traffic and construction speed zone restrictions would allow. Just as I approached Cheyenne Avenue, I noticed a large white SUV zooming up behind me, high beams flashing.

Normally, I would've pulled over to the right lane, thinking perhaps the driver was facing an emergency. But since traffic to the right was thick, there was no way to do so safely. And, considering he wouldn't back off his extreme tailgating, I questioned why I should even move over to accommodate him.

By the time we closed in on Craig Road, traffic to the SUV driver's right had spaced a little. He jerked into that lane, tailgated the person in front to speed up in a bid to get back into the left lane, and then whipped his vehicle in front of me, almost clipping the right front of my car as he did so.

As we passed the exits for Rancho and Ann roads, traffic thinned and the driver took off in a roar. More than a little miffed, I briefly flashed my high beams at him. If I had known Morse code, I would've flashed a choice verb and pronoun.

When I approached the top of the offramp to Durango Drive - my exit home - I finally had started to calm down. But that's when things really turned ugly.

The SUV driver had gotten off at Durango, too - something I had not considered - and he was held up by a red light for a left-hand turn. I was the only car turning right.

Once he saw me, the driver quickly pulled out of his lane, crossed over two to mine and tried to pinch me in against the barrier wall so I couldn't turn. As I saw him approach, I ran the red light , turned and raced to the next intersection, Farm Road, where I and a few cars in front of me were stopped by another red light.

The SUV driver followed, stopping slightly in front of me to my right. He jumped out of his vehicle, slipping and falling to the pavement as he did. He pulled himself up and raced to the passenger window of my car where, with the demonic face of Jack Nicholson in the "Heeere's Johnny!" scene of "The Shining," he began violently pounding on the window and shouting incoherently.

I quickly backed up - there was no one behind me, thankfully - and put my car in drive and swerved to my left into the lane for oncoming traffic as the SUV driver slipped and fell again. I sped through the intersection - fortunately, no cross traffic - and made it to Grand Teton Drive, where I prepared to turn right as I faced yet another red light.

I don't know how, but the SUV driver caught up to me, and again tried to pinch me in against the curb. I escaped a third time,Find the best prices and variety of natural hair weave extensions, this time blowing through the light and,We offer over 600 landscape oil paintings at wholesale prices of 75% off retail. instead of turning, I stayed on northbound Durango as he was held up by a stream of traffic going east-west on Grand Teton.

Further down Durango, I made a random series of residential street turns to a place where I could pull over and cut my lights and engine.Find the best prices and variety of natural hair weave extensions, I leaned down into the passenger seat, out of view, and called 911, my body and hands shaking, my mouth drier than chalk.

I explained to the 911 operator what had happened,Buy Crystal tile online, and she advised me to wait five minutes and then drive to a nearby shopping center where there were plenty of lights and people. She said she would dispatch an officer.

I did as I was told, parked my car and walked to the front of a supermarket where I would look like just another customer, albeit one still shaking. I had waited about 10 minutes for the officer when I got a call from the 911 operator who said the nearest officer was responding to an emergency call and couldn't get to my location for a while.