"Ah! there is nothing like staying at home for real comfort." – Emma The weatherman says the temperature won't top 40 degrees today, which makes it the perfect day to celebrate the birth of Jane Austen – that endless fount of wit and witticism, that sly tweaker of social mores, that shockingly sensible romantic – by staying in and curling up with one of her delicious reads. But, if like me, you're stuck at work, then I guess the next best thing is to troll YouTube for the many Austen offerings – I especially recommend 1995's Persuasion and the sparky, protofeminist Mansfield Park (with Harold Pinter!), the definitive BBC Pride and Prejudice miniseries (BBC, those cheeky bastards, have the celebrated pond dip up, but won't let me embed it) and Joe Wright's abbreviated, but still very worthy adaptation. But certainly at the top of the charts of Austen moments in film is Emma Thompson's spontaneous sob at the end of Sense and Sensibility. Like I said – the end of Sense and Sensibility, so, you know, spoiler alert.

Forrest J Ackerman, 92, passed away last Friday and it seems the entire blogosphere -- or at the very least those parts that have even the slightest interest in filmmaking and, more specifically, genre filmmaking -- is in mourning. We know we are. Ackerman's influence on the world of fantastic films, fiction, and fandom simply cannot be underestimated, nor can it be encapsulated in a single blog post like this one. We're not even going to try because, frankly, there's not enough internet. Forry, a fan's fan to the very end, never ceased his tireless, genial quest to collect and archive and offer (free of charge, natch) to the world all manner of fantastic film history. He edited the greatest monster magazine of all time, Famous Monsters of Filmland. He coined the term "sci-fi". He worked as literary agent for Ray Bradbury. He was best pals with Ray Harryhausen. He created Vampirella. He owned the signet ring Bela Lugosi wore in Tod Browning's Dracula. He never met a pun he didn't like. We grew up with Famous Monsters and all those other Warren Publications and, alongside Mad Magazine, E.C. Comics, Toho kaiju eiga flicks, and Saturday morning cathode ray brain warpers, FM played a huge role in shaping our omnivorous passion for all things cinematically (and literarily) weird, wild, and wonderful. We know we speak for many, many people when we say it feels like a beloved member of our own family has died. It cuts that deep. It hurts that much. He was that great. And so we say to Forrest J Ackerman, onetime resident of both the real and the reel and now a permanent fixture in the land beyond beyond, good night, and thanks for all the dreams. (Even the nightmares. Especially the nightmares.)

Egads but it's been a lousy week for genre film fans. We'll get around to all the unjoy as soon as possible, but for the moment we'll lead with the sad news about the notorious Bettie Page. The iconic, Fiftes-era pin-up queen and pop-cultural touchstone is in a coma following a heart attack on Dec. 2. Page, 85, is presently listed in critical condition at a Los Angeles hospital, as reported by Aint It Cool News and more retro geek-chic, Bettie-friendly blogs than we can count on ten cat o' nine tails. For those of you living in the Bible Belt (or thereabouts), here's a sampling of what the hubbub's about, the classic PG-13-friendly stag loop "Bettie Page's Fireplace Dance." This being Austin, the raven-haired goddess has a local connection, of sorts, in the form of author/publisher Rick Klaw, whose grandfather Irving Klaw was the photographer behind many of Page's most famous photo shoots and nudie-cutie film reels. We rang up Klaw, who's working on a mammoth Bettie-related project of his own, to get his take on Page's enduring (and endearing) pop-culture status.

Not for the squeamish or Morrissey, but still, in the spirit of the season...

It's official: A feature in the Chronicle is the kiss of death to anything or anyone video-game oriented in Austin. First came the news that game-publisher Gamecock Media lost its financial backer and sold to SouthPeak (read my story on those clowns during their salad days). Now, following the recent news that Austin gaming god Richard Garriott – after returning to Earth from his space flight – would be leaving NCsoft, the company announces it is pulling the plug on its online game (and Garriott's most recent hurrah) Tabula Rasa due to sales that have slumped from the onset. You can read Joey Seiler's article on that crew, too. Compounding the already dour situation, NCsoft will be sacking employees. This on top of a previous round of layoffs a few months back.

Tabula Rasa is slated to go out with a bang offering free online service to players starting Jan. 10 and all manner of virtual-world antics.

I blame the parasitic alien that has clearly taken control of Garriott's mind for the entire economic downturn. Who flies into space when your company is going under? A man controlled by aliens, that's who.

As last night's sold-out Alamo midnight screening of Jean-Claude Van Damme's newest, JCVD, proved the muscles from Brussels has returned from the cinematic D-list he's been inhabiting for much of his career. Alamo founder Tim League put it best when, during the film's Fantastic Fest screening earlier this year, he said: "Somebody write this guy a good script, because the man can fucking act!" Oui, c'est vrai. JCVD can fucking act, and this is most definitely something of a career resurrection/persona redefinition we're witnessing. The film rocks, balls out, no apologies. But it was not always thus for the kickboxer nonpareil, who once sported a mullet so gaudy that it murdered John Woo's stateside film career before it even had a chance to begin. And, too, are the reams of quasi-zen aphorisms that surely made more sense in his native French than they do in English. JCVD? Don't call it a comeback, he's been weird for years....

Chip Rosenthal writes about the local impact of Prop. 8 over at the Slackerwood blog. How close to home? Well, apparently Alan Stock, the Plano-based CEO of the Cinemark movie theatre chain, personally donated $9,999 to the "Yes on Prop. 8" campaign, which led to the banning of gay marriage in California. If you follow movie news at all, you've already heard about the continued fallout from Prop. 8, in which contributors to the "Yes on Prop. 8" campaign are being publicly outed. Some call it a witch hunt; others say it's just desserts for those who helped fund the stripping of civil rights from a whole swath of American citizens. Frankly, I've got no problem asking contributors to put their mouth where their money was – I bet it was a lot more fun being "Yes on Prop. 8" when it just involved writing a check and not, you know, having to actually say out loud why you think gay people aren't good enough to get married.

Current Federal Communications Commission Chairman Kevin Martin spoke at UT last week. He was the 2008-09 recipient of the William Randolph Hearst Fellow Award, given by the College of Communication to “individuals whose distinguished careers in communication make them outstanding role models for students.”

While the good PR folks at the College of Communication tried to wrangle an interview for me, when it was all said and done, I was given the big blow off by Martin’s people. After dutifully submitting my proposed questions — many of which had to do with the future of grassroots media, and relating that to the upcoming Texas Cable Association Lawsuit hearing (Texas Cable Association Hearing set for Nov. 14 post) — and after a flurry of e-mails, the response was pristine silence. Not a peep, not so much as a, “thanks, but no thanks.”

Steven Spielberg is all about the sequels. And the voting.