2012 Road Trip Photos #25: Pueblo’s Arkansas Riverwalk, Part 1 of 2: Return of the Arkansas

Day Six of our vacation ended in Pueblo, Colorado — an address well-known to anyone who ever saw one of the famous commercials from the ’70s/’80s about the Consumer Information Center and its free catalogs by mail. For that alone, my wife and I assumed the city held world-famous status. Some of our friends disagreed, but that’s their problem, not ours. Believe it or not, TV had more than just toy commercials back then.

The two of us spent the evening visiting the Historic Arkansas Riverwalk of Pueblo, a pleasant downtown diversion that interested my son not one bit. This, we decided, was the perfect opportunity for a husband/wife outing. Our hometown of Indianapolis has its Canal Walk, and we enjoyed the visual diversity of the San Antonio Riverwalk in 2005. Pueblo is much smaller than either city, but its foray into the beautifying riverwalk business is fairly new, still expanding, and worth several moments of time and dallying.

I was a little surprised to reunite with the Arkansas River, the very same waterway that runs beneath the Royal Gorge Bridge back in CaƱon City, a few dozen miles west of Pueblo. How nice of the Arkansas to serve as a thematic through-line to our day. Note that Pueblo has succeeded in containing the Arkansas and removing those turbulent rapids and imposing mountainside walls.

Arkansas Riverwalk, Pueblo Colorado

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MCC Q&A #1: Burning Questions from the Fleeting Studio Audience

search resultsStrictly speaking, this morning’s impulse sharing of the freshly minted Iron Man 3 trailer fulfilled my self-contractual post-a-day quota, though it was shamefully light on word count. I normally don’t post before work because I’m not a morning person (vociferously anti-morning, really), but I was excited and wanted to pass along the neat thing, even if I didn’t have time to add 500 words’ worth of elaboration to accompany it while scarfing my bagel.

It was also my hope that my hasty entry would save at least a few of my readers the effort of searching for the trailer on their own. Time is precious, especially when you have entries of your own to compose, an income to go earn, or Angry Birds to hunt down to extinction. If you’re among those who located this blog through the magic of Internet searching — whether yesterday, last month, or three years after this was posted — I thank you sincerely for sticking around for more than one minute.

Part of this evening was spent on light reading and general site tinkering, perusing some of the dashboard sections that provide interesting data on what search terms attracted readership and casual passersby to this humble site. Many are TV or movie fans seeking general info about their favorite creations, but it’s intriguing how many people are driven here in search of specific answers to their burning questions. Because I hate to leave those folks hanging and feel guilty about this morning’s slapdash entry, please enjoy this impromptu Q&A comprised entirely of queries from random Internet surfers who are probably all long gone by now. If they should return, I’ll leave a light on for them right here.

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“Iron Man 3” First Trailer: Destruction, Desolation, Mandarin

The first trailer for Iron Man 3 is here at last. Writer/director Shane Black (Kiss Kiss Bang Bang, among several other sharp action-film scripts) takes Tony Stark and friends into their explosion-filled darkest hour, while Sir Ben Kingsley and Guy Pearce show up in clips full of foreboding menace.

Cheers!

“Revolution” 10/22/2012 Imaginary Episode 5½: Charlie vs. the Presidential Debate

President Bass, David Lyons, "Revolution"

If only the blackout hadn’t canceled all Presidential debates, “Bass” Monroe could be rocking the podium.

Careful students of their cable TV channel guides, as well as viewers who paid attention to last week’s ending promo, already know that NBC’s Revolution is on vacation this week, preempted by the third 2012 Presidential debate, which is bound to generate higher ratings and almost as much Internet nitpicking. I have no idea why I should allow this skip-week to stop my weekly recap fun. With days to while away until next week brings us episode six (entitled “Sex and Drugs” according to NBC.com), the following is my idea for what this week’s episode might look like if it existed. Please enjoy fake episode 5½, entitled “The Body”.

Scene 1: Open on a knock-down drag-out melee between Our Heroes and a horde of sword-wielding hobos inside a spacious, empty indoor set. Miles takes them down three at a time. A heavily bandaged Nora is reduced to slaying only one at a time. Charlie is struggling with one grimy, 350-pound lout who refuses to let go of her crossbow and is shouting ugly sexist epithets. Aaron is hiding outside behind a bush, watching everyone’s backpacks. Charlie slips and falls backward. Her aggressor raises her crossbow above her head, poised to strike. Five-second “REVOLUTION” title card rolls.

Scene 2: “TWO HOURS EARLIER…” says the caption. In the hour that’s passed since last week’s train job failed, Our Heroes have only walked as far as Dayton, Ohio, some 110 miles east of Noblesville. Nora’s massive stab wound is clearly slowing down their progress. Miles decides they can’t go on like this and she needs a stab-wound specialist. He knows a former friend in Grand Rapids who might be able to help. Charlie is torn between continuing their trek to rescue her brother Danny in Philadelphia, or losing yet another female cast member. Grand Rapids it is, over 300 miles northwest of Dayton.

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2012 Road Trip Photos #24: War Memorial on the Edge of the Rockies

After we reluctantly departed the Royal Gorge Bridge and Park, Day Six continued east on U.S. Route 50 from CaƱon City to Pueblo. The distance was a relatively short hop of thirty-five miles, but we paused for one unplanned attraction in our path, the Colonel Leo Sidney Boston War Memorial Park. The park was established in 1997 as a tribute to veterans alive and dead. I’d pegged its location as Florence in my original notes, but online sources say the official address is in Penrose. Its namesake was a CaƱon City native who fought in Vietnam, was declared MIA circa 1971, and presumed officially dead in 1997. In April 2011, his family was notified of a positive DNA match for him contained in a set of recovered remains. I wouldn’t presume to imagine the toll of such an experience.

At the time, when we pulled over to the roadside for a gander, we knew nothing about the eponymous hometown hero. All I knew was that we were standing before a military hardware collection stationed in an unusual spot.

Ah-1 Cobra Helicopter, Colorado

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“Community” Fans Deprived of Season Premiere Search Skies, Streets, Hearts for the Elusive REAL October 19th

Community, NBCNBC told us all summer long that our great and powerful TV series Community would return to us for its fourth season on October 19, 2012. They worked out their fall schedule. They announced it to the press. They promised.

Mere days before the 19th arrived, NBC broke its promise and informed a despairing geek nation that the return of Community was placed on indefinite hold because the network was perfectly happy with their schedule as-is and didn’t feel the need to satisfy any more viewers. Having won three straight weeks of competition against the other networks, NBC was feeling pretty sure of themselves and decided to coast on this temporary victory, especially since commitment to fans is obviously for chumps.

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My Plan to Save the GOP with Time Travel and Rom, Spaceknight

Depending on which polling organization you follow because of how reassuring their results are to you, the American minority that remains “undecided” in the 2012 Presidential election may presently represent as much as ten percent of the voting public. I’ve not seen any recent polls that project a double-digit breakaway lead for either of the Big Two candidates, so it’s conceivable that the contemplative 10% could make or break a political career. For the sake of unfair generalization, I’m assuming that 10% won’t eventually flock to Libertarian candidate Gary Johnson, or to any of the ignominious candidates from the Green, Constitution, or Justice parties. I’d never even heard of Virgil Goode, Jill Stein, or Rocky Anderson before tonight, until some online friends inspired some light reading on my end. Lord knows how many other serious candidates with more than ten supporters are out there.

The undecided have much to ponder this year. In one corner, they have the incumbent President Obama, among whose qualities is the fact that he’s not Mitt Romney. In the other corner, they have the non-incumbent Mitt Romney, whose most attractive feature seems to be that he’s not Barack Obama. For contrarians, there’s always an affable Libertarian candidate at ringside. Some people favor incumbents because they’re a safe, known quantity. Some people vote against incumbents on the principle that anything resembling lack of change is bad. If you intend to vote against someone rather than for someone, you’ll have three or more options: Not-Obama, Not-Romney, Door #3 Who’s Neither, and Messrs. and Mrs. Probably-Not-Appearing-on-Your-State’s-Ballot.

If you’re a fan of Not-Obama in general and Team Republican in particular, I believe I have an idea for you. It involves one of my childhood heroes coming to your rescue.

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2012 Road Trip Photos #23: Royal Gorge Bridge, Part 3 of 3: Voyage to the Bottom of the Gorge

Previously on Day Six: We traveled southwest from Colorado Springs to CaƱon City for the pleasure of visiting the Royal Gorge Bridge and Park, home of the professed highest suspension bridge in America, with animals and performers stationed on either side so that the bridge could foster traversal between activities and sights instead of between two dusty, rugged landmasses.

At bridge level, the Rocky Mountains are your eastern horizon, while the steep banks of the Royal Gorge serve as noise barriers to the Arkansas River below.

Royal Gorge, Canon City, Colorado

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Wednesday is Guy Night.

Father/son quality timeOf all our household’s rules and guidelines that aren’t Scripture quotes, one of the simplest and most scrupulously enforced in our family is four simple words: Wednesday is Guy Night. What we call “Guy Night”, normal people call “father/son quality time”. Then again, normal people rarely use the word “enforce” in that conversation.

This rule was instituted in spring 2003 after a blessed but stunning turn of events that resulted in my obtaining custody of my son from my ex-wife. This unbelievable, unpredicted, somewhat intimidating lifestyle change occurred after six years of liberal non-custodial visitation, thousands of literal miles of two-way ferrying, and countless little reminders from society and the media that, in 105% of all divorce situations, the mother is good and the father is evil. The short, impersonal summation of our situation is that it had become necessary in the opinion of the majority of those affected, and thus it was written.

I believe Guy Night was my best friend’s idea. I trust her as usual to correct me gently if I’m misremembering. When he moved back in with me full-time and was no longer a beloved privileged visitor, we decided it was important to establish as soon as possible after the big move that — whatever else might be done with my week, with his schooling, or with other family and friends — he and I needed a regular block of time carved out that we could dedicate to spending with each other. When she and I married in 2004 and merged households, this became more important than ever with the closer quarters and the advent of the prefix “step-” into numerous aspects of our new living phase.

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MCC Request Line #3: “Grifter”

Welcome to our recurring feature in which I take on reading, viewing, or reviewing suggestions from MCC readers and sharing my results in the interest of entertainment science. Today’s suggestion was offered a few months ago by wwayne, who left me an English comment that seemed like quite a departure from his own moribund Italian blog. Nevertheless, a suggestion is a suggestion. This one’s for you, wwayne, wherever you are.

Grifter, Midnighter, DC Comics New 52Today’s subject: Grifter, one of the initial titles from DC Comics’ “New 52” relaunch of September 2011. For review purposes I picked up the most recent issue, #13, which was new in stores last Wednesday.

What I knew beforehand: Grifter was created in 1991 by superstar writer/artist Jim Lee as a cast member of the creator-owned super-hero series WildC.A.T.s: Covert Action Teams, about a team of heroes from space who travel to Earth to hunt their nefarious arch-nemeses, the Daemonites. I was indifferent to the Image Comics series except for a handful of issues written by James Robinson (Starman) and a memorable run written by the legendary Alan Moore before comics publishers and Hollywood turned him bitter and X-rated. Grifter was present in those days but not a focal point. Lee later sold his babies to DC Comics and is now one of the company’s reigning vice presidents. His creations were later integrated into the DC Universe in altered forms.

As far as I could remember, Grifter’s super-power was being a guy with guns. One sentence in one panel of this issue hints at telekinesis, but I don’t remember that from my prior WildC.A.T.s reading experience. Perhaps it was always there but never mattered.

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“Revolution” 10/15/2012 (spoilers): Charlie vs. Choo-Choo and the Philly Flash

Giancarlo Esposito IS Tom Neville IN NBC's "Revolution"Barely recovered from last week’s Shocking Character Death, the heroes of the Revolution are allowed to dawdle in mourning for all of half an hour before action hero Miles Matheson decides that grief is over and it’s time for everyone to move on. As soon as they cross the next set of bushes without benefit of jump-cut or montage, presto! They’re in Noblesville. Keeping in mind that Indiana Beach is 85 miles northwest of Noblesville, I infer from this instant arrival that our intrepid remainders — Miles, Charlie, Aaron, and “willing” “prisoner” “Nate” — graciously carried their fallen comrade’s body all eighty-five of those miles before deciding that the time and place were right for a proper funeral service, right next door to our villains’ current location. If you ask me, the Indiana Beach area is much prettier and farther away from evil. On the other hand, Noblesville has a large concert venue, the Deer Creek Verizon Wireless Klipsch now presumably sponsorless Music Center. Maybe music fans of the future would love a final resting place near that.

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The View from 128,000 Feet

In case you somehow missed it because of football games on TV: today Austrian skydiver and BASE-jumper Felix Baumgartner broke more than one world record by riding a balloon 128,000 feet into the outer reaches of what can still technically be called atmosphere, jumping out of his claustrophobic cockpit, free-falling at speeds exceeding Mach 1, and landing safely several minutes later on the correct planet and in one very relieved piece.

This was his view mere moments before taking one small step for sponsor Red Bull, and one giant leap for mankind:

Felix Baumgartner, Red Bull Stratos freefall #livejump

Nothing I do for the rest of my life will ever be as cool as this. I think I’m getting ill just looking at this.

Temperatures outside the capsule were near zero Fahrenheit. Baumgartner and his beautiful balloon were upward bound for over 2½ hours before maxing out in the upper reaches of near-outer-space. He and Mission Control reviewed an exhaustive checklist of 30+ steps and checks before undertaking his epic plunge, not including what must have been an extensive, tortuous process to arrive at this historic moment in the first place. Cameras followed him as best they could every step of the way, and broadcast their viewpoints via live YouTube feed.

I imagine much of that footage should be reposted by hundreds of impressed YouTube users by the time I finish posting this. As of this minute, no such luck. Please hurry so everyone who missed it can see for themselves, fast-forward through the few quiet moments, and know what daredevil courage looks like in action.

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Updated 4:30 p.m. EDT: video posted at last. Now that’s service!

Planning the Perfect Joy-Killing Amusement Park for My Lazy Retirement Years

Hersheypark, PAThe amusement-park phase of my life has been slowly wrapping up over the past few years. My son has decided amusement parks no longer offer him sufficient intellectual incentive, and also they’re just not cool. My wife has never been a fan of any fun-time vehicle that exerts greater G-force than my interstate driving. My mother’s requests to visit such places have receded as she’s very, very slowly realizing that such devices will be the death of her.

In recent history I’ve been willing to handle death-defying contraptions as a Family Quality Time function under a few controlled circumstances. I haven’t minded the occasional steel roller coaster, remarkable when they achieve a proper balance of speed and smoothness, as long as I remember my Dramamine dosage and the coaster track contains not a single upside-down segment. I’m also still a fan of any construct that gently lifts me through the air to tremendous heights and returns me safely to the ground without a single rotation or revolution. Beyond that, any excitement and eagerness I ever had for this group-outing genre has faded nearly to black.

As my wife and I spent this afternoon at a location with a couple of low-impact thrill rides, not only did I feel zero temptation, I also felt relieved that no one expected me to climb aboard. The toll on my body, the disruption of my equilibrium, and the loss of general control may be part of the experience, but I’m no longer fond of the compromise. I might feel differently if I were allowed to steer the coaster, sit in more accommodating seats, or even control the brakes and accelerator. I haven’t found a theme park benevolent or magnificent enough to grant me that power or luxury yet.

Within another decade or two, I expect my tolerance to worsen and my stodginess to know fewer bounds. Should relatives or employers suggest another engagement at one of our local mechanized wonderlands such as Indiana Beach or Kings Island, I expect to be slow to consent and slower to avail myself of the ride options…unless, perhaps, they might be willing to accept some of my suggestions for new, calmer, gentler, barely mobile “thrill” rides tailored to meet the wishes and fussiness of those disinclined against disorientation. Examples in my new, personalized ride demographic could include:

* Gently rotating teacup ride, except with broken motor so there’s no actual rotating.

* Antique autos driven by chauffeurs and stocked with elegant snacks.

* Perfectly motionless lazy river, three inches deep and using state-of-the-art technology to prevent any kind of current or even the slightest Brownian motion.

* Sensory deprivation chamber, with inside walls lined with pictures of cute kittens. No lolcat captions, though. When they’re unfunny, they angry up the blood.

* Amazingly lifelike “Mattress Firm showroom” simulator.

* Out-of-order video games that require you to imagine you’re playing the game in your head.

* The Happy Fun Park Mascot Presents the Wonderful Wacky Padded Benches for Sitting and Watching Other People Ride Rides.

* TVs. Enormous ones everywhere, like up-close drive-in screens.

* The lines for the concession stands, but with extra neon lighting so they look more like rides than chores.

These could be great couch-potato-ey fun for the whole family. Or at least for me.

If I ever have grandchildren who want Grandpa to take them to Kings Island, I’m in deep trouble. If I’m lucky, they’ll be willing to settle for an hour’s drive at top speeds along the nearest interstate. I don’t expect to tire of that sort of action anytime soon.

Undeserving Husband Celebrates Underserved Wife’s Birthday with Underwhelming Haiku

Midlife Crisis Crossover

2011 file photo. Author not responsible for the photo editing.

[Based on the wealth of evidence I provide here each week, one could mount a convincing argument that I dwell too much on entertainment media and not nearly enough on What Really Matters. During some extra-logorrheic weeks, one might also wonder if I’m psychologically blocked from clicking the “Publish” button until I’ve clambered past the 1,000-word mark every time. For such doubters, I offer six words of temporary relief:

And now for something completely different.

In honor of my wife’s birthday, I present high art. Wait, no, scratch that — just haiku. And not the great kind with birds or flowers or natural waterways. Sorry.]

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2012 Road Trip Photos #22: Royal Gorge Bridge, Part 2 of 3: Animals and Apparatus

Previously on Day Six: We traveled southwest from Colorado Springs to CaƱon City for the pleasure of visiting the Royal Gorge Bridge and Park, home of the professed highest suspension bridge in America, with optional attractions posted on either side to provide visitors with incentive to cross back and forth and truly enjoy the bridge experience to its fullest.

If you’re feeling saucy or afraid of swaying bridges that remind you of Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom, you have the option of crossing the bridge on the Aerial Tram. Up to thirty-five passengers can travel 2,200 death-defying feet across a much wider gap in the Gorge than the bridge itself traverses. Pray your fellow passengers aren’t prone to panic attacks.

Aerial Tram, Royal Gorge Bridge, Canon City, Colorado

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The Seven Habits of Highly Effective Trick-or-Treaters

Three weeks from now, our fair neighborhood will be observing Halloween, the one day of the year in which we’re all willing to look directly at each other, and maybe even speak to each other if we’re feeling particularly peppy and high on sugar. For once the children leave their entertainment screens behind for the space of two or three hours and patrol the area in search of the best kind of free handouts — the kind with no government strings attached. For me, it’s a form of community involvement, one of my rare opportunities to engage in brief fellowship and do nice things for the people around us whose names I still don’t know.

Kids of my neighborhood, or of neighborhoods exactly like mine: pay close attention. This is your target. It’s called “a neighbor’s house”.

Halloween decorations

2009 file photo. 2012 decorations and setup TBD.

Your mission, should you choose to accept it and your parents aren’t paranoid enough to forbid it, will be to approach houses like mine and undergo the traditional step-by-step procedure to obtain free candy in exchange for ten seconds of human interaction. I realize this is asking a lot from some among you. If you’d rather forgo the expenditure of effort and simply write “LOTS OF CANDY” on Mommy’s grocery list instead, far be it from me to lecture you about all those generations of diligent children who were better than you.

In preparing yourself mentally and emotionally for the evening’s task, I recommend adhering to the following principles to ensure that your candy donors are impressed with your performance and don’t regret spending dozens of dollars on all those giant bags of junk food. Remember, you’re not just out there to mooch from us adult strangers: you’re there to win at Halloween.

1. Dress like the person you aren’t, not the person you are. Your everyday street clothes are not a costume. Makeup is a good start, but should not be your sole costuming medium. If your so-called “Halloween costume” is comprised entirely of clothes you’ll wear more than three times this year, you’re a deadbeat who’s making the Spirit of Halloween cry. Even if your family can’t afford to overspend on store-bought get-ups, at least try to create something that requires the use of scissors, glue, tape, or food — anything that says, “I tried.”

2. Knock or use the doorbell. A single rapping or button-depress will do. More than once is permissible if it’s my fault that I’m taking too long to answer the door. Three times in fifteen seconds makes you look desperate and increases the odds of my throwing your candy at you overhand. Standing motionlessly on my porch, staring at my door, and waiting for me to detect your heartbeat or the fluctuation in the air pressure caused by your occupancy of that space is not traditional door-to-door decorum and I totally won’t hear you. Shyness is understandable, but hardly meritorious under the circumstances.

3. SAY THE LINE. Three words, three syllables: “Trick or treat!” It’s not a secret password known only to members of the Halloween Cabal. Anyone can memorize it. Some of your peers seem to have trouble vocalizing it. No one is expecting you to spout anything nearly as complicated as, say, “supraventricular tachyarrhythmia”. If I open the door for you, your response is THE LINE. Staring at me silently and expectantly will be rewarded with me returning the silence and motionlessness in kind. I can stay locked in that position all night if I have to. I might even make it worse with eye contact. Don’t test me on this.

4. Don’t make me open your container for you. Take the lid off your bucket, open your plastic bag or pillowcase wide, pull up the flap on the hiking backpack, whatever. If I have to do that part for you, from a distance it’ll look as though I’m trying to steal from your stash, to say nothing of the weird violation of personal space required to keep your share of my candy from dropping all over my unswept porch.

5. Don’t immediately look into your bag to evaluate your spoils. That’s just rude. My candy bucket was right there before your very eyes where you could see it, and already you’re inspecting the results? Are you checking for explosives? Are you afraid I pulled a bait-and-switch and gave you broccoli lollipops instead of chocolate bars? Can you really tell my candy apart from the dozens of other treats in your bag? You do know most of us benefactors hand out pretty much the same brand names, right?

6. SAY THE OTHER LINE. Two words, two syllables: “Thank you.” They’re English and they’re common in some circles. If it helps, write them on the back of your hand. Weeks in advance, if need be. Practice saying them to yourself in a mirror. Use flashcards. Have a friend drill you. By any means necessary, learn them. They’re your easiest way to validate me as a human being so I don’t feel like an unloved vending machine that you’re taking for granted.

7. If you’re a baby, see to it that your parent does all of the above for you. If your parent can’t handle the job, cry uncontrollably until they agree to find a cool aunt or uncle to take their place. You may have your whole life ahead of you, but it’s still too short to leave yourself at the mercy of amateurs.

Remember: enjoy the evening; be safe and sensible; travel in groups where possible; and — I can’t emphasize this enough — don’t forget your lines. If five words is too taxing or you’re struggling with stage fright, ask Mom or Dad to stand off to one side with cue cards. Pretend you’re hosting Saturday Night Live and have to succeed lest you ruin the funniest sketch of the night and end up being mocked in a thousand YouTube response videos. Have fun!

MCC Request Line #2: “Dredd”

Welcome to the sophomore installment of our recurring feature in which I’m accepting viewing or reading suggestions from MCC readers and sharing my results in the interest of entertainment science. Today’s suggestion came from Senator Brett, photographer and Thought-of-the-Day thinker extraordinaire.

Karl Urban IS Judge Dredd IN "Dredd"Today’s subject: Dredd, the movie industry’s second attempt to adapt the iconic British comics character to the silver screen. The first attempt had okay visual effects, Sylvester Stallone reprising Cobra in funnier clothes, and Rob Schneider. Incredibly, the new version has fared even worse at the American box office, possibly because of rampant fears of an uncredited Schneider cameo.

What I knew beforehand: In a post-apocalyptic future, the grim and gritty Mega-City One sprawls across the land, contains hundreds of millions of inhabitants, too many of them evil. Whatever government remains has essentially given up on ruling and created an army of Punishers — duly authorized judges, juries, and executioners. The savings to taxpayers must be enormous. Judge Dredd is the best and angriest of the bunch. One of his frequent coworkers is Judge Anderson, a blonde with psionic powers. They kill crime.

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“Revolution” 10/8/2012 (spoilers): Charlie vs. Old Man Witherby at the Abandoned Amusement Park

Billy Burke, Revolution, NBCViewers have had a week since last week’s episode of Revolution to write down their guesses as to which character would die tonight. Would it be Aaron, the softest of Our Heroes, whose death would take all sense of comic relief with him? Would it be Miles, the main character? Would it be Charlie, the character that the show keeps telling us is the main character? Would it be “Nate”, sacrificing himself to atone for his nebulous militia past? Would it be Neville, executed for the crime of being too interesting a villain?

Before that moment of tragedy, we saw at least one victory in tonight’s new episode, “The Plague Dogs”, named after the Richard Adams novel about a pair of lab-experiment dogs on the run, like our heroes except with stranger side effects. Our cast finally reunites in the ghost town of Lowell, Indiana, as previously promised, fifty miles south-by-southeast of Chicago. (One empty business sports a sign reading “G. Stein Furniture Company”, the name of a real business in North Carolina. But never mind that.) As they merge and move along, their old buddy “Nate” also stumbles out of the shadows and joins them as a willing prisoner. We’re told that his last encounter with Charlie from episode 2 (“Chained Heat”) happened someplace called Pontiac. Presumably this is Pontiac, Illinois, one hundred miles southwest of Chicago and less than thirty miles away from Chatsworth, the recently raided town that the Rebel Alliance name-checked last week. (Pontiac, Indiana, is even more out of the way, hours south of Lowell. Obviously the larger city of Pontiac, Michigan, also won’t do.)

Their objective is to catch up with Neville’s entourage, en route with Charlie’s brother Danny to Noblesville, Indiana, which is thirty miles from where I’m now sitting and typing. Lowell to Noblesville is 120+ miles beyond what they’ve already walked from Chicago to Lowell. The bulk of the episode detours them into an abandoned amusement park, which in our reality would most likely mean a ten-mile digression off I-65 to Indiana Beach in scenic Monticello. It’s not a ride-for-ride carbon copy, but the show captures the basic essence of roller coaster, water slide, Ferris wheel with extra-wide gondolas, and plastic beach chairs. The show version has more water towers, its 1950s diner looks more like a place I know at Ohio’s Kings Island, and the giant-size guitar in the background of one shot gives away its true identity as the Hard Rock Amusement Park in Myrtle Beach, SC. As a single-episode stand-in, I guess it’ll do.

Also different from Indiana Beach: the attack dogs and their unhinged master, who sics his minions on Our Heroes and then vows revenge when they kill one in self-defense. How dare they! His poor, innocent, feral dogs were minding their own business and just going about their bloodthirsty day, and then that happens! Clearly the humans are at fault and must pay. Instead of haunting them with a fake ghost like most amusement park caretakers would, this grizzled stalker attacks from the shadows and even designs a primitive deathtrap for Charlie. Luckily for her the fixtures are authentically rickety and her day is saved. Ah, if only everyone’s day could be saved…

Meanwhile on the road to Noblesville, Danny does his own bit of heroic lifesaving after finding himself trapped with Neville in a storm cellar during a genuine Indiana tornado. The twister seemingly passes; Neville shouts “Amen!”; and I couldn’t help laughing as the ceiling collapsed on him. That’s our unpredictable Indiana weather in a nutshell, folks. If nothing else, Revolution nailed that part. Alas, Danny and Neville re-enact the old fable about the scorpion and the fox, as Danny conscientiously saves Neville’s life, only to be stung by him in return. Points to Danny for moral superiority in the face of a CG storm, at least.

Meanwhile down in Noblesville, now revealed as Monroe Militia HQ, Evil Dictator “Bass” Monroe continues holding Charlie’s mom Rachel captive, perpetuating what must be a years-long tradition of interrogating her unsuccessfully, even with sadistic lackey involvement. A flashback reveals that not only did Rachel turn herself in to save her family, but that her original captor…was Miles himself! DUN DUN DUUUUUN! I suppose this should be shocking, but it’s kind of not. Now that we know the Monroe Republic is half Monroe’s fault and half Miles’, I expect we’re in for a long parade of stunning revelations about the evil Miles committed before he realized what a series of grave mistakes he’d made, like My Name is Earl with more bloodletting.

To his credit, Miles corrects one important wrong in this episode. After two acts’ worth of wishy-washy quitter angst once again, he finally takes a leap of faith into the waiting arms of family commitment, officially deciding to stay with his niece and help see her quest through to the doubtlessly heroic end. The impetus that inspires this decision is tonight’s Shocking Character Death…which would be a lot more shocking if I hadn’t totally called it last week.

Alas, poor Maggie, we knew you slightly. Your flashbacks reveal a little more history, of your children separated from you in England, of your epic one-woman journey from Seattle to Buffalo, and of your unbelievable discovery that large boats capable of sailing to England are now extinct because of wars that demolished them all and, I suppose, resulted in the deaths of every boatwright and every boating company in America. Never mind that Christopher Columbus and several centuries of pirates managed just fine without today’s boat construction technology. Were all those Carnival Cruise liners drafted into the wars and sunk during fierce naval conflicts, too?

Sorry, where were we? Yes, Maggie, then — Charlie’s de facto stepmother passes away due to femoral artery damage from one vicious stab wound courtesy of the Phantom of Indiana Beach. A sad ending to her story, after being rescued from suicidal thoughts by Charlie’s dad Ben, made a part of the family, and now…this. In her final flashback, Maggie reads to her kids from yet another classic road-trip tale, The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, a copy of which she leaves behind with Our Heroes, perhaps serving as a reminder to keep following that yellow brick road. Or a reminder of a more innocent time when adorable dogs like Toto were the norm and not the exception.

2012 Road Trip Photos #21: Royal Gorge Bridge, Part 1 of 3: the Bridge Over the River Arkansas

After we departed Seven Falls at 9:30 a.m., Day Six of our road trip continued southwest in the town of CaƱon City, location of the Royal Gorge Bridge and Park.

The highest bridge in America according to WikiPedia, the Royal Gorge Bridge is 956 feet high above the Arkansas River; is 1,270 feet and eighteen feet wide; and allegedly will hold two million pounds even though the wood looks weathered and you can see between the slats. A modest entertainment park has been built around it.

Royal Gorge Bridge, Canon City, Colorado

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MCC Request Line #1: “New Girl”

Welcome to the first installment of a recurring feature in which I’ll be accepting viewing or reading suggestions from MCC readers and sharing my results, for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer. Rather than dive face-first toward the bottom of the barrel, I’m leading off with a softball pitch of a show, as suggested by the curator and creator of Enchanted Seashells, a tugboat captain’s wife who’s also an accomplished artist in the medium of seashells. Check out her blog for some pretty inspired creations!

Zooey Deschanel, "New Girl", Fox sitcomToday’s subject: the Fox sitcom New Girl, now in its second season. Instead of researching at length and arming myself with knowledge of characters and situations in advance, I followed in the footsteps of our primitive ancestors and sat through a random episode with as little forethought as possible. In the old days of comic books, there was a saying that would translate into the TV world as, “Every episode is someone’s first.” Theoretically, if a TV show would like to attract new viewers and see ratings rise over the years, instead of dropping steadily from episode one to episode the last, then it would be in the showrunners’ best interest to ensure that every episode is a satisfying dosage for any viewer, whether new or returning.

To simplify the process, I tried the most recent episode available on Fox.com, entitled “Katie”. If any factual errors appear below, it’s because I relied only on my own knowledge and whatever was presented to me within the episode itself.

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