Hey, Leaguers.

It's been a fun weekend. Yesterday we finally used the Element for the task which I had in mind when I picked it out. You can take the back seats out of the Element, so I took one out for more space. We loaded up the dogs (including Cassidy), and Jason, Jamie and I headed to the Barton Springs spill-over.

I admit, I'm a total worry wart about the dogs, so I think I spent the whole time trying to corral my dogs, who aren't that used to water and who tend to spaz out when other dogs are around. I am sure the other folks were tired of my constant calling to all of the three dogs, so I feel a bit like a heel. I feel even worse because I think my insistence that we leave (because Lucy kept pestering a tiny dog) interrupted Jason talking to some cute girl who was hanging out with her dog. That's me. The League: Scene Killer.

Now here's the other pro-dog thing about the Element: rubber floors. The floors are still dirty, but all I need to do is get a wet rag and clean them up. It's kind of cool.

Or would be. I hadn't initially put on my suit, so I went back to the car to put it on. Lucy jumped over a four foot wall and followed me back to the car. It was both heart warming and a bit weird to see my girl abandon the water and fun just to help me change pants. Anyhow, dripping wet she jumped in the car and shook herself dry.

Let us hope the talk about the sturdy material of the seats was not just a sales pitch.

Saturday night we went to see "Sicko" with Carla and David. We also had a nice dinner at Chinatown. Always a good evening with CB and David.

I had spent some time writing up a bunch about Sicko, but I also don't feel like moderating a comments section which would surely go into meltdown. Suffice it to say, with our personal situation, I am well aware of the issues in the film and I have some personal feelings wrapped up in the topic I'd rather not get into.

I've also come to peace with Michael Moore as a filmmaker. Once you know what to look for, you know...?

Sunday was mostly chores, some comic blogging, lawn mowing, and then Jason and Reed came by for a pizza and some Wii.

Jamie smoked me in bowling, but I am the grand champion of boxing.

Hope everyone had a good weekend.

In my Element @ 10K

I was driving home the other night in Babar (my light blue Honda Element) and looked down to see my odometer was at 9999. I've been through four cars in my life, and I never, ever saw the odometer turn any kind of significant whole number.

I have hit 10,000 miles without a hiccup. That is all.

Yes, I love Babar. Some days I want to hug him, but that would be weird.

Meatgrimage, Day 3

Jamie's childhood pal and our mutual current pal, Rebecca, returned to Austin today with her mother, Dr. Kinslow, in tow. They took us to Flemings down by the convention center where we all enjoyed a wonderfully terrific meal.

I have always been a steak guy, and while I am a fan of the backyard grilled steak, I am also a fan of the white-table cloth, let-them-work-their-magic steak. I highly recommend this joint. Especially if the Kinslows are taking you out on the town.

There are many good restaurants down by the convention center which cater to folks with an expense account. However, as Jamie and I are rarely in Austin for a convention, we tend not to make our way to those restaurants or some of Austin's other finer establishments.

Places I would like to go:

Lambert's
Hudson's on the Bend
And of the places that opened on Congress during our four year Arizona sojourn

I am scheduled to hit Mesa Ranch this evening, provided nothing goes off-kilter. Which means: even more meat.

If you want to go see The Flyin' A's with me Thursday evening, give me a shout.

UT @ Kansas

I shall be watching with a mix of exhiliration and trepidation. Tech plays Baylor this weekend. Poor Baylor.

UT Basketball

I park about a block from the Erwin Center, so I am pondering going to some UT home games this year. If you want in on that, let me know.

Ghost Hunters

I am increasingly convinced that, based upon the 100 hours or so of Ghost Hunters I've watched, Jason and I could totally do this.

Anyone want to grant us $25,000 in start up funds? We need money for:

-team shirts
-motion detectors
-flash lights
-EMF detectors
-video equipment
-a FLIR
-Ghost Juice (ie: enough beer per ghostly investigation to limber up the mind)
-uniforms for the Lonestar Paranormal Club dancers

Another pretty good weekend.

Friday night Jamie and I stayed in, are buffalo wings and watched "The Life Aquatic", which I'd never seen. It's definitely a Wes Anderson movie, and its certainly charming, but its a bit of a mess. At some point Anderson is going to need to move beyond the trick of having his characters deliver dialog in a flat and practiced manner, including non-sequiters regarding the unfortunate fate of various pets. What worked very well in his faux-Glass household somehow didn't work quite as well on the high seas.

Also, watched the first half of Superman III, which, if it did not feature Annette O'Toole, would be somewhere near the same level of unwatchability as Superman IV. Director Richard Lester clearly believes Superman can't be taken seriously as even an action film, and so heaps on slapschtick, beginning with the credits. Superman can be fun, but poor Richard Pryor is asked to play to the kiddies instead of his built in audience, and its just a poor, poor decision. You kind of feel bad for the guy.

Saturday we continued with Car Hunt 2007. The whole thing wound up with me picking out a Honda Element and taking on a car payment. Yes, the Honda Element is the boxy SUV/ mini-van. But it matches my needs, it fits my bulky frame, I can get the dogs into it with no problem, and it sort of looks like a Transformer.

Yes, it is blue. I pick it up Tuesday night.

Saturday night we headed to Pat's for his birthday party. Chatted with Amy C. and Billy Jo quite a bit. Billy made a great cake with peanut butter frosting, which sounds gross, but is actually really good. Also met Pat's mysterious brother. Jamie was droopy, so we headed home a bit early. And then i stayed up until 3:00 AM watching the 1994 film "Richie Rich" starring MacCaulay(sp?) Culkin. It wasn't a good movie, and it sadly lacked the robot maid, Irona, from the cartoon, but Butler Cadbury totally hooked up with Gloria's mom. So that was weird.

Sunday we returned to Threadgill's for breakfast and to meet cousin Sue, mom and Uncle Donald. Always good to see Uncle Donald, but I think I committed to visiting the Upper Peninsula of Michigan with him next summer. That's fine. It's been 13 years since I've been up there.

Sunday night we met up with Carla Beth and her husband, David. They moved into a house down near Riverside and Congress, and its one heck of a place. I think if they keep the house as is, David could go totally Miami Vice villain, but he's going to need some Chinese jackets and a lot more swords on the walls. And henchmen.

Carla made some amazingly good pizzas from scratch and we sort of hung out in the kitchen. It's sort of remarkable, because I haven't seen much of Carla after she moved briefly to Kentucky and we relocated to Arizona, but some folks you've known so long you just sort of pick up where you left off.

Anyhow, Xander made no appearance as he'd already been put to bed for the night when we showed up. We'll catch up with that dude later.

A grand weekend, all in all.

Sometimes I reflect upon how much more full our weeks are here than in Arizona and I'm a bit stunned.

Not much to report, and I'm not feeling particularly creative today.

Now Jamie is down with my cold from last week. She's trying to be a trooper, but, man... bad colds just ruin you. Not being able to breathe is a total drag.

My brother (Adventures of Steanso) is headed off to New Orleans for Jazz Fest. It's sort of a big roving party across New Orleans as near as I can tell. He's wanted to go for years, so I wish him luck. His legal scheming only works in Texas, so he must be more careful than usual in the great state of Louisiana.

I'm finally back at work. I feel like I haven't been there much lately as one of us is always sick. Luckily, it's not my busy time, and I've been there long enough to be familiar with the ebb and flow of some of the stuff which used to give me hives.

I was reading Maxwell's recent entry regarding her struggle with a prose work she's dealing with outside the world of blogging and her online public persona. Sounds like she's tearing herself up working on thsi thing, and I think that's a good sign. If writing were easy, we'd all be reading Golden Girls scripts.

It got me to thinking about a prose bit I mess with once in a blue moon. I started work on it in roughly 1996 or so. School, work, marriage and smelly dogs have all conspired against me to keep me from ever really completing the thing. Let alone getting past the turning point for Act I.

I am most certainly struggling with many of the issues Maxwell describes (albeit, in no way in such a colorful manner as Maxwell), but just hearing her describe the specifics of what she's struggling with informs me that her story already sounds much, much better than my own. And while that drives me mad with jealousy, after following her NYC based adventures, learning maxwell is crafting what sounds like a fantastic story comes as no real surprise. She can write, she can.

I confess that I have often pondered how much further along I might be with the prose-thing if I spent an 1/4th of the time on the prose-thing as I spend entertaining you jerks. In addition, thanks to the the extremely long period of time I've spent dinking with this nonsense, I've been in an odd situation of passing from goofy college-guy to goofy working-guy, all while working on the same tale.

Experience has provided me with a wider view of the world, which certainly helps to color characters and situations in a different hue. But "maturity" (or whatever you want to call it) also makes you take a step back and look at what you wrote, and wonder "Did I really think that? Was that a situation I would ever write today?" So in a lot of ways, I'm glad I started when I did. And I'm glad I have a different perspective to bring to the table than I did in 1996, 1997 or whenever I first started.

I like to think it's all about character motivation when you're trying to tell a story. You can't tell any story without knowing exactly what every character in every scene is looking for or wants. It's not just a nifty acting tip, it's what writes your dialog for you, it's the weirdness that occurs when you hear writers saying "I don't know. The characters just started talking to me and acting on their own."

It's probably the number one thing to drive me beserk when I'm watching a movie or television program (because I don't think it happens nearly as much in books or plays as those are usually written by a single person). The verisimilitude is broken when characters simply act, but not in a way which serves their stated motivation. Especially when that act is a lynch-pin for carrying a story forward... ugh. Really, I think series television such as X-Files, Smallville, etc... are probably the worst offenders, but that's due to a bullpen of writers and changing technical staff week after week.

But after this extended period, it's tough to remember the motivations I started with, especially as you start imagining lumping in story element after story element. And unlike writing a screenplay, narrative economy is not the watchword in prose. Nor should it be. But it's also tough to balance what is necessary story, what is interesting flourish, and what is a precious baby you dreamed up which you're going to have to kill to make sure the story keeps moving. Prose certainly gives you more of an opportunity to keep those darlings around, but it's tough to know when you're really enhancing and when you're just babbling.

Like most writers who aren't real writers, I've flatly refused to allow anyone to read the damn thing as I'm an overprotective freak, and I take criticism only so well. Jamie looked it over, but she knows she has to live with me, so she's got to be nice.

So two weeks ago I handed the thing over to Steanso, who cares not a lick for my feelings, and who is going to know best where I'm going with the whole thing without a treatment or outline in his hand.

His review?

"Dude, I keep sitting down to read it and then I fall asleep."

Not exactly inspriring, but it speaks volumes. I have not written a gripping tale, but he's a nice enough guy to at least TRY to finish reading the pages.

I do await his comments, because it's worth knowing whether or not what you've slogging away on is tolerable to the average literate mammal. You can't take a little comment like "and then I fall asleep" to heart. You have to find out WHY he's falling asleep. And then decide if it's worth fixing or wandering off to move on to a different project (I've always wanted to try widdling).

I should say: Jason is also known to take his sweet-assed time to do everything, from returning movies to reading your latest opus. And if you can't take the honest word of your own brother, Sweet Christmas... who can you listen to?

I'll probably continue after hearing his input. At this point, I feel almost a biological need to push this mutant baby out. But one thing I learned in school, you can't just write in a vaccuum and assume your words drip with genius. You need brutally honest folks around who aren't afraid to tell you exactly why you suck. You need to listen, decide if what the critic is saying is worth a damn, or if they brought their own troubles to your work, and then move forward.

And sometimes, you need to realize you might not be the genius you thought you were and move on with your life.

Anyhoo, this has turned into a fine little entry.

In other news, despite a luke-warm performance, The Phoenix Suns are once again victorious. But they have to start playing real defense if they plan to finish this series, let alone succeed in the next round.

Eragon: the Best Bad Movie of 2006

Wow.
Simply, Wow.

As folks who've followed League of Melbotis for any amount of time might know, I tend to skew towards genre in my movies. I'm usually up for action, monkeys, robots and space ships. And I can often be tempted to see a movie simply because it features a dinosaur or the promise of some web-slinging.

One of the things even long-time followers of this blog might not know is that it has always been a trade-mark of The Brothers Steans to wind up at the grisliest of mistakes coming out of Hollywood. I think our poor movie selection speaks to two things: (a) our eternal optimisim that we might stumble into something of interest, and (b) when together, we'd rather share the misery than try to drag someone else into a mistake we figure we're going to make, anyway.

So Jason is working from home/on vacation this week from putting people in the slammer, and I'm unemployed. So mid-day, after we'd gone to a pet store and played with a little pig (I now totally want a pig), we headed to the Regal Cinema at WestGate to see the new fantasy feature, Eragon.

I don't know much about the Eragon books. I think they're some sort of 15th generation fantasy novels based in a Tolkein-light universe. I'd also heard that the author was in his mid-teens when he wrote the first novel.

"I suffer without my stone. Do not prolong my suffering!"

Eragon is, essentially, the tale of a young farmer who lucks into a dragon egg/ R2-unit. There's an evil king, a former dragon rider, a total fox of a princess, and absolutely no new ideas.

At it's heart, Eragon is the sign to anyone over 20 that they are no longer of the younger generation. As Lucas cannibalized the films of his youth, so Eragon literally cannibalizes whole scenes from Star Wars: A New Hope and the Lord of the Rings trilogy, offering nothing new in return.

Literally, we are given analogs of Luke, Han, Leia, Obi Wan, Vader and either Grand Moff Tarkin or the Emperor, depending on how you want to read it. There's a sort of Death Star to invade, storm troopers/ orcs to fight, and a battle for Yavin IV. There's even a recreation of the scenes in which Luke realizes Uncle Own and Aunt Beru might be in trouble, right down to Luke leaving the now destroyed farm. (Although Storm Troopers aren't responsible. This time it's LOTR's Dark Riders. No, seriously. Only they have Wolverine's claws AND his off-screen trampoline to leap from. This flick has no shame in it's desire to lift from successful franchise movies).

Things to know about this movie:

1) It is a foregone conclusion that this is the first of a series of movies. There are multiple books, I hear. So it plays a bit like a Saturday matinee serial with multiple dangling threads and an arch-villain who isn't even really inconvenienced in any way by the actions of the film.

2) I cannot think of a single reason this was not a Sci-Fi Channel original movie.

Thirty minutes into the movie, Jamie started inserting lines from Star Wars between the lines of dialogue. Soon we were all jumping in on the gag, no doubt really upsetting the wide-eyed 'tween-age fantasy fans who were there for the showing with their moms.

Jeremy Irons plays the Obi-Wan analog, and throughout the movie I continually pondered how he must have said the wrong thing to the wrong person in Hollywood, or else Dead Ringers really caved his career a lot more than I thought... but it's so sad to see a perfectly good actor slumming with dialogue which, for a reason, feels as if it were written by a fifteen year old. John Malkovich plays The Emperor/ Tarkin, and, unlike Irons, you have to sort of admire his business decision. Malkovich never leaves the staircase of what is clearly a minimally dressed soundstage. He has about six lines in the whole film (one of which sent me into a giggling fit, thus I've listed above). It's the Brando-Superman business decision that, no doubt, got him the Italian marble tub Malkovich had always dreamed of owning, and surely his piece took no more than about an hour to shoot.

Still, he gets top billing and his face on the poster. Well done, Malkovich.

The titular character of Eragon is, as Jason said, "man pretty." He looks sort of like a cross-eyed version of the dude from Blue Lagoon, or a less goofy version of Peter McNichol's character from DragonSlayer (a dragon movie in which dragons were f-ing AWESOME, I might add).

As per the action of the movie, I don't know what this means, exactly, but I leaned over to Jamie about 45 minutes into the movie and said "Is it just me, or are things 'just happening'?" She agreed immediately with a roll of the eyes.

I think what I meant was this: Not only does every single character in the film seem to lack a motivation of any sort, but motivations they SHOULD have seem cast aside so the paces of Star Wars can play out in full. Most odd is that it feels as if huge portions of the movie were scrapped at some point... characters meet and instantly refer to each other's recent history without any possible discussion time shown, nor even hinted at. There were odd bits like Obi-Wan telling Luke "Look, you're a Dragon Rider. This means you must join the resistance you've never heard of." "Quite right!" Luke replies. "That will really advance our paper-thin plot! People will completely expect that beat since the narrator talked about those guys in the prologue! But they WILL be surprised when I run off mid-movie, hollering about a vision (this movie's "You're our only hope..." hologram), so that we can have our "infiltrating the Death Star" sequence, complete with a slain Obi-Wan (who has the fastest horse. Ever.)."

Another sequence in which time and reason sort of collapses centers around the dragon, who magically grows from a puppy-like rat-catcher weighing about fifty pounds to a 2-ton flying behemoth in a magical burst of... I guess Super Dragon Puberty. She suddenly has a name, vast knowledge of the world, dragon history, biology and a pretty good bead on our cross-eyed hero. I kept waiting to find out that dragons reincarnate into other dragons to explain all of this... but, no...

Oh, and before I forget... look, Rachel Weisz is foxy. But she doesn't have a particularly memorable voice. Perhaps because she is also a mid-level actress who is happy to take fantasy roles, somebody offered her the part of the dragon's telepathic voice. I kept thinking back to the "sending" from Elfquest comics I read in fourth grade, but mostly it just felt really awkward as the dragon would sort of blurt out master-of-the-obvious dialogue.

The Dragon is also fairly meek and mild for a 2-ton killing machine. I don't really understand why they went this route (ie: making Valcor look like a raging bad-ass compared to Eragon's dragon), but it certainly doesn't lend much to the film. There are also logistical problems, such as the dragon complaining about carrying 300 pounds of extra weight in one scene, and then suiting up in 800 pounds of steel armor about 3 scenes later.

Other oddities in the film included a few "non-surprises" which, I guess, were supposed to be a surprise. Obi-Wan is revealed to be a former Dragon-Rider a full hour into the movie. This is after training our young Jedi, telling tales of the Knights of the Republic (aka: Dragon Riders) and doing everything but using sky-writing to inform him of his background. As an audience member, we know EXACTLY what Obi-Wan is in the first 8 frames in which he appears, so, unfortunately, the only effect this has is to make Eragon appear exceedingly dim.

When Princess Leia (oh, yes, she's a princess) finally joins the action, she manages to know a heck of a lot about our hero, or at least is exceedingly comfortable with him. And then she goes through a bit of Frodo's Dark Rider poisoning problem.

And this is just an oddity, but the guy who plays Luke is something like 19, so probably 18 when they filmed the movie. Princess Leia just looks too old for him, if they are going to lead to a romantic interest. So, I looked her up, and sure enough, she's 31. There's some really bad dialogue about Luke's missing mom, so I hope to GOD that this princess is not supposed to be his mom. Because right now that'd be skewing pretty far into the red zone on the Oedipal scale.

I don't have any real reason to think that the girl is supposed to be his mom other than that they went way out of their way to make sure the two never touch and mostly just smile at each other. But I also thought Famke Janssen looked ten years older than James Marsden in X-Men. And, lo and behold, she was. That doesn't mean that Princess Leia can't just be an urban cougar, but the whole thing was just so chaste... And she really, really doesn't look old enough to be his mom, either.

I'm sort of spent. The list of bad goes on an on. The scenery-chewing by the guys playing villains is, at times, priceless. The list of "name" actors who are in the film is a bit surprising, leading me to think that this film's budget was greater than it should have been 9or spent in the wrong places). The villainous army looks like a rejected LOTR concept, completely emulating the Uruk-Hai, but without the make-up budget. D&D/ LOTR fantasy folk such as dwarves and elves are mentioned, but never seen. A lame "chosen one" plot thread is used to bypass any actual training period (one sure fire way of determining this was a 15-year old's fantasy in our world of immediate gratification for kids...)

And, last, but not least... during the Attack on Yavin IV/ Battle at Helmsdeep conclusion to the movie, our heroes have somehow, idiotically, pinned themselves and the entire resistance into an unescapable valley. Then the invading army enters the fray through a single entry point. This would be the exact opposite of laying siege to a castle. This would pretty much allow the dudes you were attacking to just shoot every one of your soldiers as they walked in the door.

So what's good?

There are two very good looking actresses in the film, but one only appears in two scenes. And the other spends a good deal of the movie trussed up in the Detention Block being poked at by the floating sphere robot.

The dragon CG is not too bad. Unfortunately, the dragon does a lot of posing and posturing, and doing seemingly odd things that would scare people, but which make for a well composed shot. (beating wings, roaring, etc...)

And...

I'm sort of at a loss. Even the cinematography was about sci-fi channel original level.

And for some reason Joss Stone is in the movie for, like, 30 seconds.

Eragon could make for a great drinking game, I think. Watch, insert Star Wars dialogue to appropriate scene, or name analog scene or character... rewarded with a drink.

To me, the oddest thing about the movie is that it appears to be aimed at the folks who would like Star Wars and LOTR. But, as I mentioned above, you'd have to be under the age of twelve or an idiot not to note how they've completely lifted every element of this movie from some pretty popular sources. Eventually those kids WILL see LOTR or Star Wars. So any shelf-life this movie might have had to launch a series is going to be relatively short-lived.

The movie genuinely FEELS like maybe it was written by a fairly mature kid. There's no patience for pacing, only jumping to the next set-up. Characters seem only partially evolved and obvious. Character names seem like copies of Tolkeinish names. Elvish words (used for jedi-tricks) seem EXTREMELY Tolkeinish. There is world building going on, but it's a reproduction of a reproduction of a reproduction. One day this kid might come up with a really fresh concept to match his motivation and passion, but for now... it's like getting the grocery-store knock-off of the action figure you really wanted (aka: Spader-Man).


Anyway, Eragon. You are amazing.

Kid Nation = Summercamp

Whoever the critics were who thought Kid Nation was some sort of brutal attack on kids by CBS... Well, a big part of me now believes those stories being circulated were a weird campaign to drum up interest in a show that had to be in the can before they could even market it...

The conceit of Kid Nation is that its some sort of Lord of the Flies scenario with kids living like savages in a ghost town. Only, not so much. When one ponders the camera, sound, PA's, producers and directors who had to have been omnipresent on the set, these kids were probably under the greatest supervision of their young lives. This isn't to mention the extra bodies and kid wranglers who were mostly likely around at the bidding of the insurance companies and lawyers (I mean, "Kid Dead on CBS Game Show" doesn't look real good as a headline).

Because the show is also given an artificial structure of kids being assigned different roles, earning money, and being surprisingly organized instead of just screwing around and throwing rocks at snakes or something, you don't get the feeling that the kids are necessarily out of their element. In a way, I found this hugely disappointing, but it also explained how CBS ever got the show approved.

The kids play a bit to the camera, but only in the sort of awkward way that any kid tries to act grown up when they're interviewed on the news, etc... and some events seemed edited for dramatic effect.

Will we ever see a show where kids are actually dumped in the desert and fend for themselves? No. Because kids are kind of dumb and they'd all be dead in a week. I mean, the kids are given a choice between TV and porta-potties, and its an honest debate among them, and you cheer for the kids when they choose not to walk around in their own filth. Good choice kids!

Wait... why was that a question? Who was the miserable troll who thought TV was more important than sanitary disposal of his poop?

What one cannot do when watching the show is nod in self-assured certainty that YOU would have made a better choice or performed better, because, honestly, when we were 10, we were all kind of stupid and incompetent. So, really, these kids (coached by adults or not) come off like geniuses in comparison when I think how I probably would have fallen down a mine shaft or something in the first two days.

Because its kids, nobody is kicked off the island. Instead, kids can volunteer to throw in the towel. Amazingly, only one kid walks: An 8 year old who declares he's leaving on day one, and does just that.

The reaction of the other kids is crazy support group positive for Quitty McQuitterson. Nobody tells him he washed out. Nobody grumbles. Instead, they all applaud the kid and then go about their business. Which seriously makes me wonder what these kids were coached to do before the cameras began rolling.

Now... how does one incentivize kids to work and do chores?

Its revealed that a council of 4 will annoint one kid per "Town Meeting" with a Gold Star worth $20K and a phone call to their folks. A surprisingly mature 14 year old girl (the line where one is still a kid is a bit odd on the show, mixing 8 year olds with kids up to 15), who brought up issues like "we need to wash the dishes" is given the gold star.

Anyhoo... now with gold stars in their eyes, the rest of the kids will be less likely to throw in the towel. Especially if they are in the designated "labor" class, which is an unrewarding class to be in, indeed.

Yes, they broke up the kids into "Labor", "Kitchen", "Merchant" (the town has stores that sell stuff like root beer), and "Upper Class" (ie: you can hang about like a bump).

I suspect that each week they will give kids a Survivorish type challenge to determine who is in what class.

Anyhow, its NOT the Lord of the Flies show I've been waiting for since Survivor first appeared. It's also sort of twee and syrupy. I'm also curious how/ why two kids reportedly drank bleach while on the show as reported online a few weeks back, but the show is far more conatined than I'd expected.

Seriously. Peabo and I did a week at "Ranch Camp" in middle school. These little ingrates have it pretty good.

****UPDATE****

There was a column in Time about Kid Nation which is a quick read.

I guess I'm a bit stunned to hear people addressing kids having to cook for themselves and act somewhat responsible for themselves as "abuse". It's inaccurate, and generally diminishes the actual meaning of child abuse (asking a kid to use a porta-potty is not the same as hitting them). Even on their worst day of having to make corn bread from mix, these kids have it far, far better than kids in most of the rest of the world. Not only are the conditions better, but these kids are given an option to leave.

Exploiting kids is nothing new to TV. Hell, shows as far back as "Dennis the Menace" knew how to ruin some kid's life (poor Jay North).

But I guess I'm suprised that rather than seeing actual challenges placed before kids that don't involve extra-curricular activities and teach basic responsibility and survival skills (like how to cook pasta) some critics, this columnist included, seemed to recoil in some horror. I don't want to pass judgment on the "helicopter" parents that the columnist describes and admits to being, as I have no children.

But, man... take some pride in your kid's ability to fend for themselves and live in a world without your arbitration of every challenge. Sheesh.

Interview I forgot to do

This is a blog game, courtesy of Amy C.

Here's how it works:

I answer the questions from my 'interview' here. Then if you want to play you do this:

1. Be one of the first five people to reply with INTERVIEW ME.
2. I will respond by asking you five questions (not the same as you see here).
3. You will update your blog/site with the answers to the questions.
4. You will include this explanation and an offer to interview someone else in the same post.
5. When others comment asking to be interviewed, you will ask them five questions.

1. Who would win in a fight: Wolverine or Batman?

Batman. Please. And if I have to explain it, I'm taking away your comic geek membership card.

2. How do you like your new vehicle?

I like it just fine. It drives forward and backward. It gets me to work, and it seems to have better fuel efficiency than the Forester. I have adorned it with a Superman sticker, so you know it has my seal of approval.

I have realized that one in every four vehicles on the road in South Austin is an Element, so I do not feel as if I shall be cast as a trend setter in this matter. According to a salesman at Honda, the car is sold largely to people who own dogs.

3. If you had to choose between cutting off your right index finger or your left foot, which one would get the chop, and why?

My right finger would go in a heart beat. While my usual method of making accusations might be confusing at first as I waved a four fingered fist at the accused, I am certain I could get a novelty rubber finger to attach to the stump for particularly meaningful blame sessions.


4. What's your favorite food?

Anything that doesn't still have enough fight left in it to bite back when I begin chewing.

5. What's your theme song?

Probably "Send in the Clowns" or "Turn on Your Heart Light". Curiously, this is the second time I've been asked this question in an interview. I find this odd. Perhaps others perceive a musical quality about me, or, more likely, see me as a supporting character in a mid-range budget summer comedy in need of a theme. At the time of the first interview I thought "Bastard Wants to Hit Me" was fairly accurate.

Today, I am unsure.

There just aren't many songs about chubby comic collectors.



Also... I believe I am now duty-bound to interview five people who ask to be interviewed. So, drop a note in the comments.


Happy Way Late Birthday, Randy (aka: anonymous)





Austin Books is my Secret Mistress

So recently a book was released entitled "I Shall Destroy all the Civilized Planets", and, surprisingly, it is not the memoirs of JMD, it's a collection of features by comic creator Fletcher Hanks. "I Shall Destroy all the Civilized Palents" is a fairly geeky comic to want to get your hands on as its reprints of third rate comics from fourth rate publishers, but Hanks' work has been one of those secret hand-shakes of comic geeks for a while, I guess. It just hasn't really been reproduced in any way that I'm aware of.



Anyhow, I was unaware the book was actually coming out quite yet until I found out from Amy C that not only was the book out, it was sold out at Austin Books and had already been re-ordered. By the time I got in touch, much to my dismay, even the re-orders had been sold out.

But that didn't stop them from seeking out the book for me. I think they talked to three or four distributors when they finally found it and got it in for me on Thursday.

That, Leaguers, is customer service.

I did pick up two issues of Jimmy Olsen as well, and the new issue of Black Coat (Black Coat...! Think masked mystery man in service of the Patriots in 1777 or so) and a comic about outlaw Belle Starr.

I'm now looking forward to the Labor Day Sale at Austin Books. I need to assemble a list of some sort for maximum effieciency as I figure out how much Jimmy Olsen is too much Jimmy Olsen and if the 4th volume of New Gods is really a comic I want to get into.

I salute you, Austin Books. Thanks for finding my book for me.

Sweet iPhone Justice

I know I said I had no plans to get an iPhone, but that doesn't mean I think it's okay for other people who DO want one to get gouged by eBay speculators...





And because I can't think of anything else...

Here's Lynda Carter

Superman IV: The Quest for Mark Pillow

Can you read my mind? Do you know what it is you do to me?

Ah, Superman IV. I am uncertain as to how Superman falls into my development as a Superman Fan. Well, that's not true. I honestly think my viewing of Superman IV is a crucial portion of that tale.

I was already a huge fan of "Superman: The Movie" and "Superman II". I had seen "Superman III" numerous times, but when "Superman IV: The Quest for Peace" was released, it came and went from the theaters before I could peddle my bike to the Showplace VI to catch it. Obviously the release of the film couldn't have had me sitting on pins and needles.

So one Sunday afternoon my Sophomore year at UT (a year which shall live in infamy), I was supposed to be doing homework and running my laundry, and, instead, flipped on the afternoon movie on KBVO. I had never seen "Superman IV", and now seemed like a heck of an opportunity to watch the film. Maybe just a little bit of it. And three hours later, I was slapping my forehead and rolling my eyes in shame.

But I am uncertain if it is a coincidence that my Junior year was when I began to take an interest in Superman and Superman comics (although I wouldn't begin collecting in ernest for years). Could "Superman IV" have drummed up additional Superman interest in my mind?

A quick review of the back-up materials on the Superman Ultimate DVD Collection will tell you that nobody involved with the production of Superman IV was happy with the results, including the actor who played the heavy of the film, Nuclear Man, who had two more roles before returning to Spring, Texas... just a few miles from my parent's house, in fact.

I just finished watching Superman IV, and I am unsure if it's coincidence or not, but I have a raging headache. It's sort of just north of the orbit of my left eye, and feels a bit like I've been struck with a ballpeen hammer. Sure, it could be the weather, or allergies, or a lack of caffeine. I think it's Cannon Film's half-baked treatment of the Superman franchise.

A quick IMDB search will further provide details to tell you that the theatrical release of the film was 90 minutes, but the original cut ran more than 130 minutes. At 90 minutes, the film is choppy and nonsensical, yet I cannot imagine welcoming 40 more minutes of this film into my life.

Sure, the cast is back. Christopher Reeve actually seems pretty chipper to be back in the Superman suit, and gets a little more room to play with Clark in this movie. Whatever happened to Margot Kidder had really started to sink in by the time this installment rolled around, and at age 38 or 39, she comes off like one of my goofier middle-school teachers rather than Lois (keep this in mind when you complain about the current Superman cast being cast so young). Jackie cooper is back as a Grampa-ish Perry White, and Mark McClure is in a lot of wide shots as Jimmy Olsen. I don't know what they paid Hackman to reprise his role as Lex Luthor, but apparently it was enough to make him show up, and that was about it.

Additions include an early, almost non-existent part of a slim Jim Broadbent as a weapons-dealer, John Cryer playing Luthor's ha-ha-stupid nephew, Lenny, and, of course, Mark Pillow as Nuclear Man. A little bit more interesting is that Mariel Hemingway appears as a pre-Cat Grant suitor for Clark Kent (not Superman). And I realized she sort of looks like one of my old bosses if my old boss wore dresses with enormous shoulder pads.

A quick browse of the trivia on Mark Pillow's IMDB entry tells us that there were supposed to be two Nuclear Man's in the film, but the first was cut for time. If the deleted footage of the film tells us anything, it's that it may have also been cut for taste. Now, here's the curious bit: I think that they may have left the first Nuclear Man in the TV-version I watched on that sunny Saturday those many years ago.
A) that movie went on forever, and B) there were a few things which seemed somehow familiar, including plot points. I may be halluncinating all of this, but there is a 134 minute version listed on IMDB, so it's possible that's what I saw.

The plot of the movie is as follows:


-Superman is a friend to all nations. This is illustrated with an opening sequence of Superman saving Godless communist cosmonauts when they are hit by space debris.

-The Daily Planet is sold to character actor Sam Wanamaker and Mariel Hemingway (his daughter). They turn The Daily Planet into a NY Post-style tabloid overnight. Seemingly without Perry White or any of his staff knowing what's going to print.

-Peace talks between the US, and, I assume, a pre-Glasnost USSR breakdown. Or maybe France. It's hard to tell. There's some mention of France. Both sides declare they will be "second to none" in how many nuclear missles they have.

-A young boy in serious need of a good orthodontist and a serious crush on our Man of Steel fails a class assignment by writing a "no nukes" letter to Superman instead of his Congressman.

-Luthor escapes jail with the aid of John Cryer.

-The new tabloid folks force Superman's hand by writing a "Superman tells kid to 'Drop Dead'" story.

-Superman reveals his secret to Lois for absolutely no reason. She says that "she knows", but it's not clear if she's always known or just remembered. They fly around the world at speeds that would surely tear Lois into shreds. I guess the producers were trying to recreate the magic, but it now looks like Superman is flying with someone's mom. He then kisses her and supposedly makes her forget. I have no idea what we were supposed to get out of that sequence but a brief opportunity to hit the can.

-Superman goes to the UN-set (which looks every bit as tacky as the real UN) and tells everyone he will now rid the world of nuclear weapons. He receives a standing "O". The viewer laughs aloud, trying to (a) imagine the UN agreeing to anything, (b) deciding that the right thing to do is let an alien with no oversight and an unknown agenda disarm the Earth.
Now, in the deleted scenes, prior to the UN scene, there's a bit where Superman tells the kid "I'm really not supposed to disarm all of humanity". The kid whines. I seem to also remember this from the TV version. All of that also breaks up some awkward moping that Superman/ Clark does for a while prior to the UN sequence.


-The kid is never seen again. Rightfully. If I were him, and had just had that kind of success with a letter writing campaign in 1987, I probably would have begun writing letters to Amanda Pays.

-Superman "disarms" the entire world. Sort of. I recall seeing statistics for how many nuclear weapons the US and the USSR each had on a graph in Time, circa 1983. I think Superman may have shorted himself by 100,000 weapons on both sides. He throws the nuclear weapons into the sun. Now, this is an interesting bit as nothing is made of either the US or USSR going completely monkey-crap about their nuclear stockpiles being swiped by an alien being. Really, this should have been "The Day the Earth Stood Still". But all of that is pushed aside so we can focus on...

-Luthor's idiotic plot. Luthor schemes to get in bed with some arms manufacturers who will continue to build nuclear weapons. Or something. We learn that Luthor is actually cloning a Nuclear Man from a strand of Superman's hair. But he needs the power of the sun to make his Nuclear Man work. So what he's really doing is conning a seemingly fully complicit nukes dealer into strapping a shoebox full of silly-putty and a doll-dress to a nuclear missle, hoping Superman will intercept it and throw it into the sun. Which he does.
I think (though it's never said out loud) that the idea is that the guy KNOWS what Luthor is doing, and will go along with his Nuclear Man plan to kill Superman, so he can re-arm the world, and Luthor gets a cut.
Dropping California into the ocean for a real estate swindle now seems so quaint.
-One of the guys from Ah-Ha, fresh from Studio 54 party, emerges from the sun.

- Superman fights the nuclear guy. For some reason, the nuclear guy has press-on nails that maybe poison Superman for some reason. Which is never made clear as both Nukie and Supes get their power from El Sol. Radiation?

-Lois comes to Clark's apartment and gives an awkward speech which leads you to believe she knows Clark is Superman. This goes nowhere. I think maybe we were supposed to gleen that this is Lois making peace with the knowledge she has. I don't know. Nobody is bad in the scene, it's just that nothing really comes of it and it's a big ol' matzah ball to leave in the middle of a movie like this.

-Superman uses his last crystal he grabbed early on in the movie and heals himself from the poisoning. Why he waits is never made clear, but he goes from having the chills to looking like the Crypt Keeper in two scenes.

-Supes fights Nuclear Man. the fight necessitates that Superman push the moon out of orbit to block Nuclear Man's line of site to the sun (which Nuclear Man needs to have access to his powers). Curiously, the Earth is not shorn in half by the gravitational disruption, and nobody seems to notice the moon moving out of orbit.

-Mariel Hemingway is taken into space by Nuclear Man at some point. Apparently Mariel Hemingway is immune to absolute zero temperatures, the rigors of a vaccuum, and the rough ride out of the Earth's atmosphere and gravity. She is one tough cookie.

-At some point, Mariel Hemingway, Lois, Clark and Superman partake in an awkward sex-farce style scene in which Clark and Superman keep coming and going from Mariel Hemingway's apartment. It isn't funny, and for some reason, Lois makes a duck in the oven.

-Superman throws Lex back in jail and let's the world re-arm itself

-we learn that a very 20-something looking John Cryer was supposed to be an impressionable teenager when he is placed in "Boys Town". Literally. It's his last scene and leaves a lot of questions.

-there's some talk of a narrowly averted nuclear incident. I don't know what nuclear disaster the news-guy is talking about. I assume it was yet another element cut out of the film, like the first Nuclear Man. I am trying to puzzle what why a war was imminent if nobody had missles, but nothing is coming.

-for some reason, Nuclear Man is very interested in Mariel Hemingway after seeing her on the cover of a British edition of The Planet. We know it is British as "Favorite" is spelled "Favourite" right on the cover. I assume this is how they spell "favorite" in the UK, and not just a type-o. Anyway, there's some explanation of Nuclear Man's interest in Mariel Hemingway on Mark Pillow's IMDB entry. In the context of the movie, it makes no @#$%ing sense, but does lead to a moon-fight and to Superman replacing a moon-flag, looking like a disgruntled suburbanite cleaning up after kids ran through his yard.

-Apropos of nothing, Mariel hemingway learns the value of journalism with integrity. I assume this is part of a subplot which has been cut. At the film's end, Perry White takes an escalator and announces he's taken an enormous loan to buy out Wanamaker. Which is amazing, because they clearly state at the beginning of the film that the Planet hasn't turned a profit in three years. Metropolis' banking system must be a shambles. Also, there's something very "Monster-A-Go-Go" about a character telling us about all sorts of action which took place off-screen, but which we never get to see.

This movie cost $17 million, which is roughly 5% more than just Brando's salary on the first picture, I think. It's written with the best of liberal intentions, what with the strong "no nukes" stance. I understand that it was actually Christopher Reeve who suggested Superman tackle the real-world issue of nuclear disarmament, but I think it's safe to say that he did not anticipate the endless goofiness which would saturate the film.

I don't think any of the ideas in the film are necessarily bad ideas. There is just a layer of abject failure of execution which permeates every frame of the movie. What happens when Superman tries to save all of us from ourselves in one enormous display? That's an interesting question. The movie asks the question, but is derailed by Mark Pillow in a cape before it can give a coherent answer. A walking, super-powered dirty-bomb as an enemy for the man of steel. Did he need to be a clone? Can Mariel Hemingway survive in a vaccuum? Only scientists really know.

And what must Hackman have thought of Cryer's idiotic turn as Lenny Luthor? Surely he asked him to tone it down... We may never know.

All of that said, this movie still makes more sense than Supergirl.

I kind of want to see if I can find Mark Pillow's house, as it can't be more than 10 minutes from my parent's house. Maybe he'd sign my copy of Superman IV. You never know.

Blogging from Great Neck, New York

Hi Leaguers.

I am tired as heck. After Jamie's day Monday, traveling and corraling my crew yesterday, having an intense but (and I'm not just saying this) highly, highly productive day today with my team and our client/ partner team, I am bushed. And it's 8:30 central time.

I'm really impressed with this area. I could never afford to live here, but it's really lovely. Sort of like an overpopulated small town with a whole lot of name brand shopping, nice homes, nice storefronts, and some seriously pricey cars.

I feel a bit out of my element, but have had two great dinners in a row (both fish, while I can take advantage. I love fish.), and had NY pizza for lunch.

I think I actually eat more sensibly when I travel. If I lived on the road, I'd be in much better shape.

One interesting thing I'd forgotten about NYC, is that you forget living in Texas that not all women are blond. I'm not sure how natural all of the hair color I see actually is, but not everyone is blond.

Obviously I don't dislike blond (note: the wife), so its just an observation after living in Texas and Arizona.

But people are also a lot thinner here. I'm a whale in Great Neck. I miss my fatties in Texas.

I miss Jamie. And the pets (in no particular order). And I'm looking forward to getting home.

Fritz Lang's Metropolis and Golden Hornet Project

When I was 15, Jason talked me into renting Fritz Lang's 1927 science fiction opus, "Metropolis". I was, of course, immediately disappointed to learn that Madonna's "Express Yourself" video was not a concept baked entirely new for The Material Girl. Instead, the creative team had told a sort of parallel (and sexier) story to the happenings of "Metropolis", in the same landscape.

Madonna's "Express Yourself"*

At any rate, I doubt I'd ever watched an entire feature silent film prior to that cut, but as I recall, it had some pop songs on it, and, of course, even on VHS the movie was brilliantly stunning and the story moving.

I don't really want to get into a whole conversation here on German Expressionist film of the pre-Nazi era, and how one of the seldom-mentioned casualties of Hitler's regime was the crippling of an entire media and art form. But there you have it. While I do enjoy some American and British silent film (like all good former film students, I appreciate me some good Buster Keaton and Chaplin), I'd argue that anyone watching Metropolis will be awed at how far ahead of Hollywood and London that the German's were in using the medium.


Ladytron

It's also impossible to separate Germany's post-WW1 conditions with the output of their cinema, and not wonder a bit about what Lang saw in his countrymen in the years prior to the rise of Hitler. Or his refusal to allow the film's resolution to make a solid case completely on the side of beleaguered labor (what with the Reds running around Mother Russia).

The dimensions of the movie are huge, even by today's standards. And while sets are necessarily re-used for the story, they're unbelievable in scale and practical effects, number of sets, etc... The models of exteriors are phenomenal, some scenes that I assume are matte prints continue to astonish, and the cast is enormous. It's tough to believe such efforts used to go into moviemaking, but clearly Lang wasn't cutting corners.


Sort of makes "New Detroit" in Robocop seem kind of silly, 1980's Dallas.

The imagery has, of course, become iconic and endlessly emulated in sci-fi films, in comics and elsewhere. Lang's Metropolis would come to define the massive super cities seen in everything from "The Fifth Element" to "Blade Runner", acknowledging that these cities will grow on the backs of a labor class who will most likely always have the short end of the stick. The glories of the towers and the miseries of the folks below would become a perennial theme in science fiction, and, one can see how the first quarter of the 20th Century would be enough to tell you where this was headed. The predictions for technology aren't as important to the film as the homily shared using the backdrop and extremes of the future presented in the film.

The effects are mostly practical and hold up because Lang's grasp didn't overextend his reach. The Man-Machine's metal body looks exactly like what its meant to look like, the flying machines and cars don't take bizarre shapes.


why is evil always more fun and noticeably hotter?

But what's just as striking are the hallucinatory visions experienced by Freder, including the approach of "death". These scenes are a fairly straightforward moment when Lang's involvement with Expressionism crosses over into the Metropolis.

And, curiously, its funny how different the same actress is as Brigitte Helm as "good" Maria and "evil" Maria.** While acting styles have definitely changed for film in teh ensuing 80 years, the actors are still committed and engrossing.

We lost a few things when they added sound to film, but nothing so much as the possibilities for a film to easily cross borders, simply applying new title cards.

My hat is off to the Golden Hornet Project. A friend at dinner asked if they're an offshoot of Austin's "Golden Arm Trio", and I really don't. But the band/ orchestra/ whatever was made up of about 8 musicians, featuring keyboards, two percussionists (phenomenal percussionists), and several strings and guitar players. I am actually very interested in seeing their other work in town this summer.


seriously, when was the last time you got this excited about one of your ideas?

The score was terrific, going above and beyond the call of duty to execute upon their task: helping to tell the story without getting in the way. Its unfair to try to categorize the work, so I won't try too hard here to do so. But what would you be if you didn't try? I kinda/ sorta would compare it in spirit to... oh, David Byrne's score for "The Forest". Only totally different.

Anyway, the movie is a favorite. It was a huge treat not just to see it on the big screen, but with such a huge amount of love put into the music.

I like to point out that for all the snooty, looking down the nose critics like to do with sci-fi, this 80 year old movie had three sold out shows and inspired musicians, who could be doing plenty of other things with their time, to create new works of art just to support it. And not just here. Nathan mentioned a similar effort in San Antonio, and when I described the screening to League-Pal Robb at dinner, he told me about a screening at Seattle's Gasworks Park about a decade back that attracted thousands. THOUSANDS.

Its not the genre that attracted the audiences, but there's something to the mix of story, homily and visuals that sci-fi makes possible. And while few have done it anywhere near as well as Metropolis in those years, I don't see "Wings" (best picture, 1928, and a really good movie in its own right) drawing three sold out nights and a new score.

For the record, there's no known direct connection between this movie and the naming of Superman's adopted hometown. Nor does there seem to be any direct connection between the film, its themes, its portrayal in the comic, etc... and the movie. I think teen-age comic developers, Siegel and Shuster, picked it out of the zeitgeist in the years after the movie appeared in the US. Superman would appear roughly 10 years after Metropolis, by the way. So, yeah, the Germans were ahead of us on this crazy sci-fi thing.




*Dang, yo, Circa 1990 Madonna... you are a bad, bad girl.

**Or "boring" Maria and "hot" Maria, as I declared when we left the theater.

Ahmadinejad in NYC

Hey, so Ahmadinejad hit NYC today, and I know you're thinking "Hey, League... You're somewhat literate and watch TV sometimes. I don't know what to think of this Iranian President coming to town and chatting up co-eds. Lambast me with your poorly constructed worldview and mediocre analysis."

I love me some America, Leaguers. Iran, I can give or take, and, let's face it, we've got a rocky history with those folks.

Did you know, according to Batman comics, the Ayatollah Khomeini once made The Joker a UN Ambassador? Amazing and TRUE.

Leading up to Ahmadinejad's appearance today at Columbia University, there was a lot of debate regarding whether or not he should be given such an opportunity, or, with his tendency to make claims many Americans find outrageous (and which the rest find mostly offensively preposterous), Iran's President should be allowed to speak. This is after someone wouldn't let the guy make an appearance at the site of the World Trade Center.

Ahmadinejad isn't crazy. He's a head of state, responsible for millions of lives. And whether he espouses beliefs Americans believe to be bizarre or profane, he's also not the mad dog lunatic that our own resident propaganda artists have tried to spin him. Instead, he's a thinking person, and a seemingly intelligent person, and a caricature of evil doesn't reflect what Americans are getting from this guy. He's not a ludicrous figure in the mode of King Jung Il, or the bizarre Papa of Death that Saddam Hussein appeared to be with his bushy mustache and tendency to fire off rifles during parades.

My fundamental belief, and you can quote me on this, is that if we aren't willing to let everyone speak, no matter how crooked or vile they are, then our belief in freedom of speech isn't worth the hemp the Constitution is written on. We live in a groovy country where we don't need to worry about being jailed or fined for making fun of our leaders or criticizing them, and that's something you can't even really say about most of the rest of the world (there was even a recent case in Spain of a cartoonist getting in legal trouble for making fun of some lazy Prince. A Prince, for love of Mike!).

Iran has a, shall we say, slightly stricter idea of what it means to talk smack to those in charge, from Mullah to President.

As Jim D once wisely pointed out to me, one of the interesting things about freedom of speech isn't just that you get to say whatever you want, it's that people get to say whatever they want right back at you. And here's where things come together about why I think bringing a dictator with a, shall we say, spotty reputation into an Ivy league institution is a groovy idea. Did Ahmadinejad think he was going to walk onto a stage in a room full of America's elite, students and professional intellectuals, and not get a few tough questions?

Honestly, the Newt Gingrich's of the world who were so horrified at bringing this guy to the US to speak were missing the big picture. I don't know if they thought Ahmadinejad was going to be able to persuade a roomful of Columbia's best and brightest that he was a great guy or what, but what I think they were missing was the opportunity which New York and Columbia seemed to take advantage of in pretty good force.

The President of Iran is going to be able to build his cult of personality at home whether he's at Columbia or not. Bring him to Columbia University, and for one day, he was out of his element and speaking to an audience that had no reason to be polite, was not going to worry about having their jobs and homes taken from them (or worse), and who have not had government controlled media managing the message since the 70's (I'm speaking in broad terms here, so let's not go crazy talking about corporate owned media franchises, shall we?).

Ahmadinejad got to see his route lined with protesters he can dismiss, but perhaps he can also note not just that we're a country where you can assemble and go home without fear of arrest, but that our streets can fill with people willing to voice their opposition to the government he's assembled. People who drew attention to some of his quirkier antics.

Whatever moment of personal triumph Ahmadinejad may have thought he was building by walking into Columbia, from what I've read, things worked out pretty well in the way of American republic-style democracy versus Holocaust-denying dickery. For folks who questioned the President of Columbia of University for bringing in Ahmadinejad, check this out:

"When you come to a place like this it makes you simply ridiculous," Bollinger said. "The truth is that the Holocaust is the most documented event in human history."

Bollinger made this comment in his opening remarks, and reminded us that we live in a place where the President, any President, can be called into question when they face the public, and that person should require only the courage takes to look another person in the eye to call that President out.

And that's not all bad.

Lastly, the role of the University is a place for learning, and part of that concept is the open and free exchange of ideas. That's why I blanch when I hear someone trying to get a professor fired for espousing kooky beliefs. Universities, state funded or not, aren't just there to be job training facilities for high schoolers who are too chicken to try a stint in the armed services. There was a reason the university you went to kept inviting all these people to talk on campus, even when you were skipping them to watch "Friends". Part and parcel of that is that they advertise all of these people, so you get to go and tell them they're a big jerk.

No, its true! If, say, Captain Kangaroo showed up and you wanted to give the Captain a piece of your mind, you get to do so. Unless you're that one guy, and you get tased for being a jack-ass. But you have to really push it before they tase you, bro.

Anyhow, I was glad to see most commentators understand the situation, and was glad to see it shook out pretty well.

UPDATE: Or, as pictures always speak better than words: Click here

Thanks, anonymous

20 Years of Blogging. No, really. (Part 1)

So, twenty years ago Jamie and I were living in the wasteland suburbs of Phoenix, Arizona in a town-turned-bedroom community name of Chandler.  We'd moved out to Phoenix in pursuit of a new job for Jamie.  But, also, we figured we were young and didn't have that many roots down in the years after college and marrying fairly early (2000).  Now seemed a good time for trying new places and things.  

It didn't work out.

You can visit Jamie's occasional remembrances of our time in Phoenix, and that's a goodly part of the story.  But, also, between Jamie's health, the fact I was working crazy hours, and a general lack of opportunity to meet people, we just didn't know many folks in town that we could call "pal".  I either managed or was supervised by the people I worked with, and Jamie mostly worked with men - so she wasn't meeting many women she could pal with-  and everyone she worked with seemed to be at a different point in their lives from hanging our with two 20-somethings.  That, and, man, if you asked me what the culture was in Phoenix in 2003, I'd say "strip malls and pretending you're rich".  We just didn't click with many folks.

So, that's where we were at in some ways.

New Feature: I Totally Hate Unicorns


It may be tough to imagine disliking something which doesn't exist. This time of year, sure, you get your Scrooges declaring Christmas a humbug. But you rarely hear them say: "Gee, I hate Santa". Or, "that Rudolph is a total phony."

People generally leave well enough alone when discussing fictional creatures, whether you're talking Elves, Trolls, Pixies, Cyclops, Eskimos or Vampires. It's, indeed, a rarity to hear someone say "Those mermaids really chap my hide."

But, circa 1997, I bore witness to my first open assault on unicorns. I was taking a screenwriting class I was throughly enjoying, and had allied myself with a certain, outspoken fellow. JimD was someone I'd become friendly with during the time-leaching "Intro to Screenwriting" class. We'd become pals when he said "Yeah, I used to read lots of comics." Now, he was one of the few sane people in my class, and we were both equally enthusiastic about the opportunity the course presented.

During this class (the one post-Intro), one of our fellow student screenwriters had written a script I shall describe as "Cloak & Dagger" meets "War Games".

The format of the class was somewhat brutal, especially for fragile creative types. Each week, you put the ten pages you were required to write into a box for your classmates to read. They would give you written feedback. Then, once every few course sessions, you'd have to sit while the other students put your pages up on the overhead and asked you questions (ie: trashed your script). It was a great exercise in separating your ego from your work, lest you break down and cry. Indeed, you either embraced the process or went into meltdown.

During the "Cloak & Dagger" guy's evaluation, it came to light that a key element of the screenplay was a unicorn-shaped necklace given by one lead character to another. The unicorn necklace came into serious play during the climactic scenes of the script.

After some mulling, JimD raised his hand and said something along the lines of "It can't be a unicorn."
"Why?" we all asked.
"Unicorns are lame," he said, with the authority of one who knows his unicorns.
"What?" the hapless screenwriter was now (wisely) taking a defensive posture.
"Dude, nobody likes unicorns."
"I think it's okay."
"No, nobody likes unicorns."
"I don't see anything wrong with it."
"Dude," JimD turned to the class for help. "Does anybody here really like unicorns?"

I sat and thought about it as the exchange went on for longer than expected, realizing that, at age 22, I had really not given the matter of unicorns the appropriate consideration.


An irritating pair of unicorns.

I recalled thinking unicorns were pretty cool when I was in second grade, having had what had to have been a pretty goofy folder that featured a unicorn (a unicorn which bore pegasus-style wings, no less) flying across a cosmic star scape. Later, at the Texas Renaissance festival circa 1983, I had seen a sheep with a horn glued to his head and touted as a unicorn (apparently the horses were glue resistant). The "Dungeons & Dragons" cartoon, which I adored, featured a unicorn (named "Uni", no less) and I'd never thought too much about that. I played a lot of Dungeons & Dragons as a kid, and so I think I was pre-disposed to giving the fauna of faerie-land a bit of a pass.

But I had to ask myself: Did I like unicorns?

There had been a unicorn incident. In first or second grade, my folks had dropped me off to see "The Last Unicorn". I have no recollection of the movie, other than that it must have been a fairly bleak story. I was unable to sleep the night after I saw it, feverish, and, as I recall, a little irritated with the titular Last Unicorn for some reason. I have never seen the movie since.

"Nobody likes unicorns!" JimD was still insisting.
I looked at my watch. The conversation had been going on more than five minutes. People were becoming a bit uncomfortable, I believe, at JimD's anti-unicorn belligerence, paired with the scree-writer's pro-unicorn stance. It was a stalemate, and neither side would blink.
"Who else," JimD confronted the small class, "likes unicorns?"

What the hell was a unicorn, anyway? I mean, I remember hearing that in medieval times people thought unicorns gored folks with their horns. That was sort of cool. But those people also thought elves lived in the woods and that taking a bath was evil. So their unicorn knowledge was probably shaky at best.


this unicorn is really annoying

Now, unicorns mostly festooned air-brushed t-shirts you could buy at the fair, pranced around in flower-littered glens and showed no signs of goring people with their horn. They're total snobs, hanging out only with maidens, pegasi and each other. They contribute nothing, unless they "majestically" ran along a rainbow, pooping cheer on all who dares to look up.

"I'm not sure it's that big of a deal-" I started.
"No way!" Jim D cut in. "Are you saying you like unicorns?"

Like the Tri-Star horse jumping over the T in Tri-Star (but clocking some poor grip on the head with his hoof), it hit me.

Unicorns are stupid.


a typical, stupid unicorn. How I hate them.

I had no idea why, but JimD was right. Sure, this made JimD more than a little like the Darkness guy from Ridley Scott's "Legend", but I was no Tom Cruise, or even one of the chubby dwarf guys. I was the little green troll dude, totally ready to take down some unicorns if it meant eternal winter and that the annoying girl became a rad goth grrl.

"Yeah, okay," I admitted, "Unicorns are kind of lame. But if that's what he wants..."
"See!" JimD turned to the screenwriter, triumphant.

The guy kept the unicorn necklace in the script, where it remains, unproduced, to this day. I do not know how much JimD actually KNOWS about unicorns. I assume it is a lot. In the years that have since passed, to my knowledge, we have spoken of the matter only twice.

I also hate Rachael Ray. She makes food that any idiot with a box of Triscuits and a can of Cheeze-Whiz can make, all while rambling like a clock-watching dental hygenist ready for her big weekend at the lake. Further, Rachael Ray has usurped the rightful place of Giada De Laurentiis as the queen of Food Network, which is unjust, as Giada De Laurentiis is obviously a total fox.


a total fox

All that said, Rachael Ray and I agree on more than the fact that, honestly, if you can't just make it with Triscuits and Cheeze-Whiz, you might as well hire caterers.

Rachael Ray also hates unicorns. I'm totally lifting this from someone else:

"I would smile all day long, every day, if it guaranteed a unicorn getting punched in the face. I find them really annoying." - Rachael Ray, responding to queries posed in Entertainment Weekly's "Stupid Questions" column, (10-20-06).

Thanks, Rachael Ray.

Here, also is an example of a GOOD use of unicorns.


link: courtesy Doug

With these unicorns, hopefully, the democracy-loving unicorn will defeat the evil socialist unicorn. Then, we can kill and eat the freedom-championing unicorn, savoring his patriotically succulent juices while picking any stray commie-bits from our teeth with his red, white and blue horn.

Here is a link, courtesy of SG Harms, regarding the wearing of unicorn shirts.

So I don't like unicorns. I think they're dumb. I'm much more about hippogryphs, and wyvern.

So League of Melbotis has a new mission: We're going to expose unicorns for the frauds they truly are.

If you have any good unicorn stories, pictures, etc... please send them on.

We're making the world a better place, one less unicorn at a time.

Unless it's this unicorn, who is totally awesome.

Ghostbusters: 25th Anniversary

So this week marks the 25th Anniversary of the release of Ghostbusters.

I deeply, deeply love this movie, and I find it curious that I never think to include it in my profile lists when they ask me to name my favorite films. Well, today I put a flag in the ground and declare my love for the Ghostbusters.

Going to matinees in the summertime is an age old Steans-Clan tradition, and so it was that the KareBear took a fresh-faced League and Steanso to the cinema to catch the flick. I probably already knew the Ray Parker Jr. theme song (a Huey Lewis knock off that wound up getting somebody sued).




As a kid, I recall enjoying the more slapsticky elements (sliming), the sci-fi and ghostly elements, and the big finale. It was in middle school that I realized how quotable the movie is, to the point where the dialog works itself into everyday speech (when training staff in my previous, more technical jobs, I'd frequently wrap it up with "the light is green, the trap is clean"). And, I imagine, I'd do quite well at a Ghostbusters quote-along at The Alamo.

On the whole, its just a very tight movie. From a scripting standpoint, it does a great job of carrying its characters from the basement of a university to fighting Gozer the Gozarian for the fate of world to the cheers of New York City, the guy gets the girl, and the stick in the mud EPA guy gets his comeuppance.

And, it features this scene:


Maybe one of the most brilliant scenes ever put on film.

The movie plays so often on cable that I suspect its now taken for granted, becoming television wall paper in the manner of "Vacation" or "Fletch".

But I recommend going back and checking out "Ghostbusters", and I dare you to wish you weren't a little more like Dr. Peter Venkman.



The sequel was a little too cutesy, and missed the edge of the original. Once babies are involved and it lost the "working stiffs" element (as well as the uncertainty and shooting from the hip nature of taking on the actual ghost busting), there's just going to be a point where its not the same movie anymore. Still enjoyable, but...

There was also a Saturday Morning cartoon that ran for a few years and tried very hard to keep the spirit of the original series, although toned down for kids (who were going to be surprised when they'd watch the movie years later, slapping themselves on the head when they figured out the whole "gatekeeper/ keymaster" deal).

One of the great things about the original is how well the entire cast clicks. Not just Murray, Aykroyd and Ramis... but Ernie Hudson, Annie Potts, Rick Moranis and Sigourney Weaver (and poor William Atherton who became consigned to a career or playing schmucks after nailing the role of Walter Peck in Ghostbusters). No doubt Moranis is hilarious (and who has the greatest closing argument in legal history in Ghostbusters II*), but Ernie Hudson's blue collar guy who's just in it for the job and Sigourney Weaver's bemused high class NYC musician all really draw from a world of New York that seems very ground in reality. Juxtaposed against three jobless professors hunting ghosts... it just works.

I can't think of a big budget, more or less all ages comedy like Ghostbusters coming out in recent memory. Especially one that mixes genres so seamlessly. For some reason, the only thing that comes to mind is stuff like "Pluto Nash". I'm probably wrong, but its been a while since something like Ghostbusters hit.

There are rumors of the original cast reuniting for a sequel (I am neither for, nor against, a sequel until I know more). There's also a long-in-development video game coming in a few weeks, and featuring most of the original voices (I hear Moranis was a hold out).

At any rate, it would be nice to see the movie remembered as more than a sexy Halloween costume.

*Your Honor, ladies and gentleman of the audience, I don't think it's fair to call my clients frauds. Sure, the blackout was a big problem for everybody. I was trapped in an elevator for two hours and I had to make the whole time. But I don't blame them. Because one time, I turned into a dog and they helped me. Thank you.

I have a new car

Buenos noches, little Forester. May Howdy Honda's used car department find you a rad new home where you will be loved.

I picked up the Element tonight. It's blue, as I mentioned, but the color is NOT actually described as ATOMIC blue, it is described as Arctic blue or some such... I think that Atomic thing is left over from a different model.

If in Austin and buying a Honda, let me mention that Howdy Honda not only has a great name for a dealership, they had great customer service. When at Howdy, ask for Helen Frink, super car salesperson. We like Helen.

Apparently Howdy Honda was selling a lot of cars today as the financing people were way backed up and it took a while for us to get in the car and get going. Oddly, Jeff and Keora were also there, and I think Keora was picking up a Honda Fit. I do think they were getting the car, because Jeff had that face on he gets when he's about to spend money. I saw this face many times, including when we co-signed a lease in 1996.

Anyhow, the rest of the night was documented pretty well by Jason. Go here.

I was going to call the car "Ted" in honor of slain Superhero, Ted "The Blue Beetle" Kord. But I'm not sure. Is this what Ted would have wanted? And then there's the whole fact that it's not a blue VW... I dunno. The Forester was usually The Krypton Kruiser. I need to find some other alliterative moniker or at least something which speaks about the car.

My first car (a maroon/ red '83 Honda Accord) went by The Badger, as it was dangerous when cornered. My next car, a '92 Eclipse, was called "Hero", for pulling my fat out of the fire and out of reverence for the horse of pulp hero, The Phantom.

So, we'll see. It'll come to me.

The League Talks Comics - Batwoman, GL and Superman

Editor's Note: Leaguers, I'm going to go back to occasionally talking comics around here. Feel free to ignore these posts, friends and family who don't care!

I'm also going to mostly focus on suggestions for stuff I liked. It'll save us all a lot of time.

Detective Comics #854
Written by Greg Rucka; Art by JH Williams and Cully Hamner; Cover by JH Williams : Variant Cover by JG Jones

We're on issue #854 of Detective Comics, where Batman made his first appearance in 1939ish in issue #29. So, this is the first issue in quite sometime given over to someone other than Batman, or people standing around talking about/ thinking about Batman.

Instead, after 3 years of getting our chain yanked by DC with its sporadic appearances of the "all new" Batwoman (That's Batwoman, not Batgirl), DC finally committed to the character and gave her a chance to make it on her own. Apparently DC is also trying to make amends with novelist/ comic scribe Greg Rucka, with whom it seems things got crosswise during the "52" event of 06' - 07', by giving him "Detective" and then, just to be extra nice, assigning artist JH Williams III (of Batman and Promethea fame) to the storyline.


With karate she'll kick your ass, from here, to right over there...

Longtime readers will know I'm a fan of Rucka's work on Batman, Superman, Wonder Woman, OMAC, and I spent a lot of time in Costa Rica reading his "Queen & Country" comics. Rucka does fetishize a certain type of female character, as evidenced by his similar treatment of Renee Montoya from Gotham Central/ The Question, Queen and Country and now Batwoman. Highly competent, jaded, and a personal life in shambles. And maybe he needs to shake that off a bit, which he's forced to do when he's handling characters he didn't manage from scratch (and which he handles quite well).

There's nothing wrong with the narrative here, and, in fact, Rucka does an amazing job of setting the stage for who Kathy Kane is and where we're headed. But Detective Comics just jumped page count and increased its price by 25% with a Question back-up feature by Rucka, that will probably remind readers a bit too much of how similar the two characters actually are.

I'm counting on the back-up feature intersecting with the main feature at some point. We'll see. But both characters have been tied up with Rucka's ongoing "Religion of Crime" storylines at different times.

I'd be remiss in discussing the new Batwoman as character if I didn't point out, like everyone else has, that she is part of DC's efforts at representing the world "as is", in that Kathy Kane has been established as a lesbian. It's not an overarching part of the plot, but its not hard to see that DC was trying to spread its wings a bit with the character intended to be part of its mainstream offerings. Which, I just realized, means that Detective Comics #854 features not one, but two gay heroes.

The art: Is phenomenal. I really don't know what else to say about JH Williams, other than that the man is one of the most wickedly talented people working in the comics business. His style is vastly different from, say, Frank Quitely, but I feel he's in the same category, and it'd be nice if he were a bit better recognized/ had greater influence on the comic art community. I suggest going here and then clicking "view preview" to see his stuff.

Green Lantern #42
Written by Geoff Johns: Art and Cover by Philip Tan and Jonathan Glapion; Variant Cover by Rodolfo Migliari

This is more an endorsement of Geoff Johns and Peter Tomasi's work on Green Lantern and Green Lantern Corps, two books I enjoy immensely. Johns and Tomasi have both been using the serial and ongoing nature of the books to lead to an event in "Blackest Night", which is hitting at the end of the summer. (And if you're reading GL but not GLC, you are crazy. Seriously.)

Johns and Tomasi have managed to greatly expand the conceits of the GL books of decades past, and have introduced a spectrum of colors and their varying allegiances, roles, etc... And its been a fascinating read.

The last few issues of GL have focused upon the Guardians' attempts to negotiate with Larfleeze, a being who seized the Orange Lantern (think Gollum, but with the power of a thousand GL's) millions of years ago.



As a single issue, it would be incredibly difficult to walk into GL #42, so The League recommends picking up with the Sinestro Corps stuff in trade paperback.

Every once in a while when you're reading a comic, it just clicks, and it becomes abundantly clear that the comic you're reading is going to be remembered and become essential reading for decades. It may eventually spawn movies, etc... And, most certainly, that's the case right now with Green Lantern, provided the whole ending for Blackest Night doesn't crater.

Superman #689
Written by James Robinson; Art by Renato Guedes and José Wilson Magalhães; Cover by Andrew Robinson

Like Batman disappearing from the pages of Detective, Superman hasn't actually appeared in "Superman" for the past few months as the "World of Krypton" mega-story has taken over the Superman wing of the DCU. Clark Kent/ Kal-El is off planet at the moment (a move I confess to thinking was nuts when I first heard it), and has left Metropolis in the hands of a fellow alien, Mon-El. Meanwhile, Action Comics is now featuring an all-new Flamebird and Nightwing, a Kandorian super-team hunting down Phantom Zone criminals.

Mon-El has appeared in the Superman-related comics since the early 1960's, first in Superboy, and then in the Legion of Super-Heroes. From the planet Daxam (and actually named Lar Gand, but given a Kryptonian name by a young Superboy) Mon-El has similar abilities to a Kryptonian. However, unlike Kryptonians, Daxamites are affected by the simple element of lead the way Superman might be affected by Kryptonite. In today's continuity, he was found by a young Clark Kent who was forced to place him into the Phantom Zone to save his life.

Freed from the Zone and given a temporary cure, he's taken Superman's place in protecting not just Metropolis, but, as this issue explores, Earth. Its a great story, showing how this very human alien relates to the planet and is trying to make the most of his time.



I'm not as enamored by Robinson's writing as some, and some scenes, such as The Guardian's defense of Mon-El to Morgan Edge feel simply rushed. Like Robinson had an item he felt he wanted to check off his list of narrative moments, but didn't quite know how to frame it, and so a fairly simple speech cleared up an entire storyline. It seemed almost quaint in this era of televised punditry. It also felt oddly like a call back to Superman's defense of Krypto circa issue 680.

But the issue is an overall enjoyable read, and a great beat in this ever-expanding storyline of World of Krypton, as it runs through the Superman titles.

Sure, its odd that DC has decided that Clark Kent himself isn't the star of his self-titled comic at the moment, but I'm enjoying the feeling of a broad, epic vision for the Superman comics at this moment. Superman's displacement doesn't feel artificial as it did in "Superman: Exile", and I feel that Robinson's stewardship on the title is sound.

Plus, I like the artwork.


That's it for the moment. I doubt this will be a weekly thing, but doing some comic-related writing felt like a good idea today.