Hey, Kids! Free Comics! Ask Your Parents What Those Are! (FCBD Results, Part 2 of 3)

May 8, 2012 By in Comics/Lit Tags: , , , , , , , , Leave a comment

Continuing my look at comics publishers’ attempts to lure new readers into their white vans on Free Comic Book Day 2012. For historical purposes, my previous years’ FCBD reviews can be found online for 2006, 2007, 2008, 2009, 2010, and 2011. The fun part is seeing which past participants are no longer in business.

Onward with more entries from this year:

Yo Gabba Gabba! (Oni Press) — Never seen the show. I haven’t kept up on today’s kid-TV because my son’s era ended right before Steve Burns exited Blue’s Clues and caused the show to jump the shark. From the cover alone, I expected this to be a two-minute shot of toddler-fodder that I’d later pawn off on one of my nephews’ Christmas stockings. Then I opened the cover and was ambushed by names I recognize and respect such as Michael Allred (Madman), Evan Dorkin (Milk and Cheese), and Sarah Dyer (Mrs. Dorkin). Three of the stories teach lessons to tiny children in cute, Dadaist ways that I’d happily share with my tykes if I ever planned to have any more. The fourth story, by Dorkin and Dyer, stars one Super-Martian-Robot-Girl, with whom this is my first encounter. It’s exactly the kind of quality irreverent hijinks I’ve come to expect from the two of them. Google tells me this is not an isolated incident. Now I want more more more more MORE because it will fill the void in my heart left by missing issues of Dorkin’s Pirate Corp$ that I was never able to track down. My nephews will have to go buy their own copies on eBay.

The Hypernaturals (BOOM! Studios) — Dan Abnett and Andy Lanning, writers of several of Marvel’s cosmic-themed titles from recent years, set out to create their own mythos. In a future where the remnants of humanity are ruled by an unseen all-powerful AI, former members of their premier super-hero team look askance at their successors, embarking on their inaugural mission and at first glance not faring well. The whys and wherefores of this new future are left unexplained from the start, but the tantalizing glimmers of imagination and tragedy hint at grander sights ahead. This one might bear watching when it launches in July.

Image Twenty (Image Comics) — The proud independent celebrates two decades of success with samplers of six new series. Quickly run down: G-Man is normally fun all-ages fare, less appealing when it takes itself seriously; Guarding the Globe is a super-hero spinoff from a series I stopped reading years ago (though I do dig Todd Nauck’s art here); Crime and Terror, from the creator of 30 Days of Night, is essentially a one-page EC tale ballooned out to fill four; Revival seems promisingly spooky, about a resurgence of various undead species; It-Girl and the Atomics is a continuation of Michael Allred’s quirky super-hero team by other talented hands (so far, so good); and Near Death, whose series I’m already following, is not-bad crime drama about a former L.A. hitman trying to save lives as atonement for all his past victims. Overall, the batting average is favorable, as has been the case for much of Image’s output of late.

Transformers: Regeneration One #80.5 (IDW Publishing) — A lengthy text piece inside the front cover helpfully explains the odd title and numbering. The creative team of Marvel’s original Transformers series have now reunited to pick up where they left off 21 years ago. Several flashbacks succinctly sum up What Has Gone Before — i.e., there were these alien warrior robots who were supposed to be friends, but then they fought and fought and fought, but then the good robots won, but now some leftover evil robots want a piece of them. This sounds dismal, but it’s rather efficient and less vertiginous than the recent films. The new settings and characters are up and running in short order along with some old familiar faces, and the vague cliffhanger ending may entice the average robot-loving boys to want more. Glory days might be theirs once more if the team can recapture the 70,000 fans who were still aboard when the original series ended due to what was considered “low sales” in the 1980s. By today’s standards, 70K would place them squarely in Diamond’s Top 10 charts and easily merit half a dozen redundant spinoffs.

Finding Gossamyr/The Stuff of Legend Flipbook (Th3rd World Studios) — Side A is another entry in the burgeoning young subgenre of malfunctioning-child-math-savant sci-fi. A young woman forced to care for her “special” little brother signs him over to an evil boarding school who enlist him to solve an evil equation that will open a doorway to evil aliens from beyond. That sounded silly while typing it, but the brother and sister are introduced with heart, depth, and digital art that pops nicely in a faux-animated way. Side B is another FCBD alumnus best described as “Toy Story Goes to Narnia”. The short sample is an argument between two characters about their past failures that might be better appreciated if you’ve read the full tales of said calamities instead of just a summary. I’m guessing, anyway.

Bad Medicine (Oni Press) — Fringe minus familiar characters and alternate settings. Mostly harmless.

My Favorite Martian (Hermes Press) — A new publisher plans to reprint Gold Key Comics from the ’50s and ’60s such as Dark Shadows, The Phantom, and this one based on Ray Walston’s “classic” TV show about a one-alien sleeper cell conducting secret experiments and failing at exfiltration. Fans my age might appreciate seeing long-lost art from the underrated Dan Spiegle, but I get the impression their target audience is fans twice my age. I’ve never endured a full episode, but my wife promises it’s no My Mother, the Car. To its credit, unlike much of the FCBD competition, this is a complete done-in-one story, benign if poorly aged.

To be concluded!

If a Ballot Has Only One Candidate, Does it Still Count as Voting?

May 8, 2012 By in Indiana, Mundane Tags: , , , , , 2 Comments

Tuesday, May 8th, is Indiana’s primary at last. It matters not a whit on the national stage, but our local elections can occasionally be intriguing to watch. Sometimes they even have ramifications.

On Election Day in November, I vote without regard for party lines because they’re meaningless to me and I wish they’d go away. Pick any belief, and you can find a supporter on either the Marvel or DC Coke or Pepsi Elvis or Beatles Democrat or Republican side. It’s an arbitrary team sport. In primaries, I’m a Democrat for the worst possible reasons.

When I registered to vote in 1992, I had the choice of registering as Democrat or Republican. End of choices. A or B. 0 or 1. Jack Johnson or John Jackson. No other parties were listed on the form, and there was no write-in blank to select a label of my own choosing such as “conscientious objector to the electoral process” or “Goonie”. At the time I was an apathetic agnostic who wanted to exercise his right to vote without any real direction or interest in the process itself. I settled on “Democrat” because gas prices had skyrocketed to an annoying $1.29 per gallon, and this persnickety, indebted college student just knew it was George Bush’s fault somehow. I had to send him a message, and listening to Jello Biafra speeches over and over on my Walkman clearly wasn’t getting through to him.

(This is why you don’t corner me and ask me to make snap decisions about topics on which I’m woefully unqualified. If I’d been the captive parent faced with the cruelty of Sophie’s Choice, I would’ve hemmed, hawed, and then gone with a gut feeling based on each boy’s GPA.)

I’ve retained the “Democrat” label to this day because participation requires a label. I’m not interested in researching my options for party realignment. No proof of allegiance is even required, just a willingness to engage in the process, for worse or for worst. Besides, the contention between Democratic primary candidates is often…um, interesting. Consider, for example, the Presidential primaries of 2008, when the only two real options remaining on Indiana’s primary ballot were Making Black History or Bride of the Monster.

Using the Indianapolis Star‘s handy online voter guide, my options for the 2012 primaries under my assigned label appear as follows, summarized as I go without preparation:

President: Obviously foregone.

US Senator: Also foregone. Incumbent Joe Donnelly is locked in.

US Representative: Four whole choices before me! At last, some comparisons to draw. The incumbent is a Muslim whose predecessor in office was his grandmother, who in turn was beloved by her district. Of his three contenders, one proudly stated on his questionnaire that he’s Christian “and not a Muslim.” One has centered his entire platform on the forthright message of “Obamacare SUCKS.” One failed to complete the Star‘s survey and obviously hates when people vote for him. I’ll have to sleep on this one.

Governor: I didn’t know this was foregone, but John Gregg appears to have no challengers on the Democrat side in his quest to catch the gubernatorial baton from the outgoing Mitch Daniels. Gregg also didn’t bother with the Star‘s survey, which may lose him my vote come November. He might lose it anyway, even if I can’t remember that slight. His opposition will be Republican U.S. representative Mike Pence (one of the few current politicians I genuinely respect) and the Libertarian candidate, Rupert Boneham from TV’s Survivor. Yes, that Rupert. Yes, really. Can’t wait to see that party started.

State Representative: Three candidates: (1) one guy who works for the Star‘s parent company in some capacity; (2) a tax attorney whose tiny profile photo faintly resembles Tracy Morgan but with dignity and class; and (3) a mother of two who has experience working in retirement communities, which probably comprise 90% of our local voting base. If they can remember her, she’s in.

County Coroner: The incumbent, Frank Lloyd Jr., seeks reelection. I don’t understand why this is an elected position. Why not just hire someone? Why require two candidates to stand at podiums and convince you why they are the one true master of autopsies? Politics, shmolitics — Master of Autopsies would be a fantastic reality show. Two coroners walk in; two bodies are pushed in; one walks out. (One coroner, I mean, not one body. Granted, that too would be good televisionin’.)

County Surveyor: Another Democratic incumbent rerun. Her resumé includes the word “pictometry”, which is new to me. For that she can stay, and “pictometry” goes on this week’s vocabulary list.

County Treasurer, and Township Advisory Board: Are all our bases belong to incumbent Democrats? Here I find two more positions in that same predicament. I propose a new rule: every office must have two or more primary contenders, or else that office is canceled till next year due to lack of interest from politician wannabes.

Superior Court Judges: Our marching orders are to vote for ten of the twelve proposed candidates. My votes will be going to one Gulf War vet, all the minorities I can detect, and an additional non-incumbent. That still leaves three unused votes, which by fiat may end up going to the youngest-looking of the last men standing. I’m sorry, but I have little else to sway me here. The surveys have far fewer questions than they did in past years. Most of the answers in this category were dry legalese and of little help for my personal discernment preferences. I suppose I could instead base my votes on whether their religion of choice is a Christian denomination or just plain Christian.

Disappointing results in hindsight: out of ten possible races, only three of them will require actual decision-making from us “Democrat” voters. See, this kind of sloppiness is what happens when I try to finish an assignment the night before it’s due. If I’d consulted the voter guide sooner, I would’ve known that only three races invite any real Internet research. Too bad the Star didn’t ask the candidates for their GPAs.

New Readers: Threat or Menace? (FCBD Results, Part 1 of 3)

May 7, 2012 By in Comics/Lit Tags: , , , , , , , , , Leave a comment

Free Comic Book Day 2012 was hectic yet rewarding. My wife and I enjoyed our annual routine, purchasing items at three different stores and assembling a review pile to see if today’s publishers, old or upstart, like new readers. The second half of the day was Marvel’s The Avengers and subsequent family discussion group over dinner. And Sunday went as our Sundays go.

This means I’m only through one-third of the pile. The results so far:

Atomic Robo/Neozoic/Bonnie Lass (Red 5 Comics) — Atomic Robo is no stranger to FCBD, and here outdoes himself in a team-up with his arch-nemesis, the intelligent and stupid Dr. Dinosaur, in a tale of impossible biomechanical evolution, the Hadron Collider, and saving the day with spreadsheets. Full disclosure: any and all Atomic Robo comics are fun science adventure worth the admission fee.

Of the other two stories, I faintly recall Neozoic as another FCBD vet, but I don’t remember their previous installment(s). The sample resembles Terra Nova with a sword, some ESP, and unexplained backstory that kept the plot in the dark. I have no idea, for instance, why one character wallops another with a triceratops head. Bonnie Lass explains its pirate-based plot, but not its characters or an explanation for the inclusion of elevators and interrogation rooms in its settings. Extra points lost for misspelling “breach” as “breech” at a crucial moment, to considerable amusement on my part.

Bongo Comics Free-for-All 2012/Spongebob Squarepants Flipbook (Bongo Comics/United Plankton Pictures Comics) — Select reprints from Simpsons Comics are a FCBD staple, but this is their first time sharing their space with squatters. The just-okay lead story is Homer, Lenny, and Carl forming a bear patrol; its backup is a great non-Simpsons autobiographical Sergio Aragonés tale about his first earnings as an artist in third grade. On the other side of the flipbook, the inimitable Mr. SquarePants ably multitasks, reading an adventure of Mermaid Man and Barnacle Boy (not the same without the voices of Ernest Borgnine and Tim Conway) while annoying Squidward at the same time. Indie comics fans might also dig the single page of gags by the unique James Kochalka. In all, SpongeBob fans will be more content with this flipbook than Simpsons fans, but Aragonés fans are the true winners.

Top Shelf Kids Club (Top Shelf Publishing) — Six original black-‘n’-white done-in-one tales for kids by unusual talents. Best of show are Andy Runton’s whimsical Owly (whose volumes are a staple of the 741.5 kids’ section at my local library), James Kochalka (him again!), and Savage Dragon letter Chris Eliopolous, whose “Okie Dokie Donuts” finally gives kids the ultimate role model — a strong-willed woman who owns and defends a donut shop. Kids who like comics and don’t require super-heroes would do well to have a copy of this sampler in their li’l mitts, provided they don’t freak out at the lack of color. Invite them to add their own.

Star Wars/Serenity Flipbook (Dark Horse Comics) — Joss Whedon’s brother Zack writes one short story for each galaxy about spacefaring scalawags having deals go wrong on them — Han and Chewie in one, Mal and River in the other. Quick and simple enough for casual readers, and agreeable fluff for longtime fans of either, though the Serenity voices didn’t sound twangy enough to me.

Buffy/The Guild Flipbook (Dark Horse Comics) — The Buffy tale is set during Season 9 and will make no sense to any Buffy TV fans who’ve never picked up a Season 8 or 9 comic before now. (Why are they in space? Why is Spike commanding bugs? What’s a zompire? How the heck did that surprise guest-starring movie creature happen?) My dedication to Season 9 has been wavering of late, so I found this inessential. The Guild, on the other hand, was in top form as usual, failing hilariously at spending quality time together at the beach. I can totally relate to such anti-outdoors awkwardness. Again, though, if you’re not a preexisting fan, I’m not sure their reactions will mean much to you. (Tinkerballa is never even named in the story.)

As a reward to FCBD completists, picking up both Dark Horse FCBD offerings gave you a “complete” four-page story starring Caitlin Kiernan and Steve Lieber’s Alabaster. It’s complete in the sense that it has a beginning, middle, and end. After four pages of small talk with a bridge troll, I still know nothing about the main character except her name and skin tone.

Adventure Time/Peanuts Flipbook (KaBOOM!) — The Peanuts material was released months ago as a standalone one-dollar Peanuts #0 sampler, which I already tried and found to be dumbed-down recycling of Charles Schulz’ original strips by new hands, not unlike the latter-day cartoons. I’m not sure if the same is the case for the Adventure Time shorts. They read like the kind of cutesy, disturbing surrealism that usually finds a home at Fantagraphics. I’ve avoided the Cartoon Network series, but I confess I laughed at this more than once. It’s a rare comic that finds a context for concepts such as bacon-based microorganism housing and fart fairies.

Burt Ward, Boy Wonder/Wrath of the Titans Classic Flipbook (Bluewater Comics) — Side A stars the erstwhile TV Robin, living in peace with his wife and several dogs until he’s sucked into a zany black-and-white future world where Robin fashions are all the rage, newspapers still exist, and Ward’s dialogue keeps avoiding contractions like a formal book report. Side B is an excerpt from a comic-shaped illustrated kiddie prose novel starring Harry Hamlin’s Perseus and our old friend Bubo the chirpy robot owl. Eight-year-olds whose nostalgic parents forced them to watch the original Clash of the Titans will be most pleased to have a sequel to call their own. I don’t imagine that to be a large demographic.

To be continued.

A Moment of Anti-Silence for MCA

May 4, 2012 By in Misc. Media Tags: , , , , , Leave a comment

Today the Internet reposts its favorite Beastie Boys videos as tribute to Adam Yauch, a.k.a. MCA, passed away too young at 47. The group notified fans on their official email list about his cancer a few years back, when it arose during the original Hot Sauce Committee recording sessions. I thought it had gone into remission months later. I was unaware of the unfortunate status change.

My vote for tribute is the first song that convinced me they had any intent of becoming Serious Artists instead of languishing as party-chasing musical pranksters. Licensed to Ill seemed at the time like novelty rock. I never “got” Paul’s Boutique, though I can understand why it has its fans. To me, Check Your Head seemed like a stronger leap forward, particularly the first single, “Pass the Mic”, though our local corporate alt-rock station prefers endless revisits to “Sabotage” and “So Whatcha Want”. It’s a rarity of sorts in that MCA leads off for once instead of batting cleanup.

One last pass of the mic, then. Note the dominoes at the end for unintended, retroactive gravitas.

To be honest, the first apropos tribute that sprang to mind was “Bodhisattva Vow”, the closest he ever came to a solo performance (as far as I’ve experienced, anyway). My beliefs aren’t Buddhist by any stretch, but I was intrigued by the passion that drove him to compose such a complex expression of what drove him. Sadly, the only linkable upload I could locate was a live version with muddled sound. My own copy of Ill Communication is a dub cassette that does it little justice.

My Geek Demerits #1: No Midnight Showings

May 3, 2012 By in Movies/Films/Flicks Tags: , , , , , , Leave a comment

As I write this, millions of hearty moviegoers in the EDT zone are high on anticipation of tonight’s midnight premieres of Marvel’s The Avengers. Part of me wishes I could join the party and stay ahead of the curve on the online chatter and spoilers. Unfortunately, the majority of me has a full-time day job and a finicky attitude toward use of my vacation time. I’m weak like that.

Even if I’d taken the time off, my family would also like to see it, but they aren’t in a position to drop everything and go nocturnal. Sure, I could hit a midnight showing solo and plan my second screening with them at a later, mundane hour. That would be a boon if I love it enough for multiple showings. That worked for Chronicle, but what if something goes wrong? What if the movie is constructed entirely within the framework of the common Joss Whedon motifs of All Fathers Are Monsters, All Corporations Are Evil, and Destroy All Couples, all of which set me on edge? What if I hate it and find myself forcibly sequestered at the shunned contrarian end of the Internet next to Armond White and Cole Smithey?

I shudder to imagine enduring an encore for the sake of family quality time under those circumstances. I’m reminded of my final theatrical viewing of The Phantom Menace, in which I slept through the entire Tatooine sequence, even the podrace, as a defense mechanism. Knowing that I blew actual money on an extra ticket for that avoidable privilege added insult to injury.

Most problematic for me: my body can no longer handle gallivanting around town till 3 a.m. anymore. In my youth, I knew the occasional evening that ended with bedtime after sunrise. Today, retiring at midnight is normal for me (if not for others my age), but if I push too far beyond, the following day is made of regret, stupor, and double the normal assault of old-man muscle aches. Braving those hours of discomfort is not as fun a dare as it used to be.

I’ve had to learn to be patient and resist the temptation. For the sake of recognizing my limitations, I accept my geek demerit and will bide my time till Saturday without grumbling. I wish all the best to those superfans lining up hours ahead of the rest of us to see the best Greatest Film of All Time of the year.

Before you exercise your bragging rights too brashly, keep in mind: if you were a true hardcore Marvel’s The Avengers fan, you would’ve arranged to catch it last week in Australia. Waiting till it’s cordially escorted to your spoiled American front doorstep is weak.

Free Comic Book Day 2012 Invites 300 Million Americans to Crowd into 2000 Remaining Comic Shops

May 2, 2012 By in Comics/Lit Tags: , , , , 1 Comment

My wife and I consider Free Comic Book Day a tradition, an annual date of sorts in which we road-trip around Indianapolis, sample the publishers’ wares, and make extra purchases as a thank-you for each shop’s service to my lifelong hobby. I cross a few items off my trade-paperback want list and pick up a few extra singles, whatever titles I’m missing or curious to sample. She fills the gaps in her own Star Wars collection.

Our 2012 rounds will have a somber tinge to them. Comic Carnival, the oldest chain in town, closed three of its four locations in 2011. One of them was my regular shop back in high school, but had the misfortune of watching the neighborhood around it turn ramshackle over time. One was next to a Wal*Mart and should’ve had plenty of nearby warm bodies to lure inside, if only they were willing to read, or at least buy their Pokemon cards there instead of from the big-box competition. One had just been recently relocated to new digs that I never even had the chance to visit. Given the state of the print market and the precedent set by Borders’ collapse, the closures stunned and unsurprised me at the same time, if that makes any sense. The last Comic Carnival is itself a transplant of their flagship Broad Ripple store, still flying their banner high in a part of town I rarely visit.

Other than them, we’re left with three Downtown Comics locations, Comic Book University (always the best FCBD selection when it comes to indie company representation), and a couple of mom-‘n’-pop joints with whom I’m out of touch. I know of Dee Puppy Comics only by their frequent appearance in Google results. I lost track of Collector’s Paradise when they moved out of the Liberty Bell Flea Market to somewhere I failed to find even when I had Mapquest directions in my hand. Last winter we stumbled across a hole-in-the-wall joint off the Martinsville town square, but we could only peer through their locked door because it was Saturday morning and their day wouldn’t begin till 2 p.m.

That we have any comic shops remaining at all is a blessing, far as I’m concerned. As I understand it, more than a few major American cities (not just small towns) are now without benefit of brick-‘n’-mortar service. Despite what some six-year-old Google results claim to the contrary, such shops are nearing endangered-species status. I’m sure the Internet reaches those lost, diehard souls just fine and the digital revolution has brought comfort and supplies, but I’m not convinced it replaces the physical community, or the leisure and surprises to be found in shelf-browsing.

This year’s titles are listed here, and are aimed at various ages. Genuine newcomers will be more interested in Marvel and DC. Those are all yours. I’m aiming to nab copies of Atomic Robo & Friends, Buffy/The Guild, Star Wars/Serenity, Image 20, and samples from some of the upstart indie companies to see what they’re up to. Hopefully we’ll see them around next year, celebrating their first year of success.

Get ’em while you can, I say. Keep my hobby alive!

Batmania Returns, Preempts Avengermania One Week Ahead of Schedule

May 1, 2012 By in Movies/Films/Flicks Tags: , , , , , , , Leave a comment

Please allow this old newcomer to practice inserting video links. Chances are you’ve already seen this one. Nothing for you to lose if I screw it up, then.

I was viewer #303 when that landed on YouTube circa 11:30 p.m. EDT Monday night. Bragging rights for being slightly ahead of the curve for that brief moment are mine.

And yet…my head failed to explode. I’m trusting the finished product will be exciting and as vital as any other Nolan film. Maybe the ads for this year’s Best Picture winner, Marvel’s The Avengers, have desensitized me to awesomeness. Whatever the reason, I have yet to burst into Caps-Lock cheers or pound my exclamation mark key until it cracks.

Mostly what I see is:

Bale grimaces and suffers. His two previous Bat-performances were much more than that, especially when he wasn’t being outshined by all those elderly Oscar vets. The evidence for this installment is thus far concealed. Again, I trust all the meaty soliloquies and jump-cut brawls are being saved for the actual viewing experience.

Bane sounds stilted instead of garbled. I’ve enjoyed Bane as a comics character in recent years, particularly as a demented father figure among younger villains in Gail Simone’s unfairly canceled Secret Six. There, he was well-spoken and had a twisted sense of honor that spurred him into the most unpredictable decisions in any given situation. In this trailer, his two lines wouldn’t sound out of place in any other Batman film or TV show. Any of them.

Anne Hathaway does martial arts. I’ve had a hard enough time coping with the reality that Princess Diaries graduated to nude scenes. Seeing her perform snippets of rehearsed chop-socky was only slightly less disorienting. In her defense, it doesn’t help that I’ve never cared for Catwoman as a character, not even Julie Newmar’s version. It’s one of my many secret shames that bars me from attending all the really good comic conventions.

Joseph Gordon-Levitt is mysterious beat cop. I suspect his average-Joe character will bring unto the film Great Meaning. Either that or he’s undercover Dick Grayson, and/or by film’s end he’ll be the new Batman. His nebulous nature frightens and confuses me. Let’s hope it was worth walking away from playing Cobra Commander.

Batplane Returns. Whether live-action or animated, nine out of every ten Batplane appearances follow the same pattern: Batman flies somewhere he would normally drive. He activates one or two weapons. He fails to win. Sooner or later, it explodes. Spread across his appearances in various media, Bruce Wayne by now has spent hundreds of billions on single-use disposable Batplanes. The Nolan version looks sleeker than most previous versions, but is doubtlessly just as fragile.

Midair plane stunts! Between Bane’s apparent jailbreak and the BatKamikaze, TDKR looks to stay airborne at length. After the accomplishments we’ve seen in the occasionally intersecting oeuvres of Jerry Bruckheimer and Michael Bay, are there truly any new stunts left to perform above the horizon?

There shall be Occupying. Please, no.

MPAA Downgrades “Wings” from Unrated to PG-13 for Sake of Teens That Need to See It

April 30, 2012 By in Movies/Films/Flicks Tags: , , , Leave a comment

Variety reports the very first Best Picture Oscar winner, 1927’s silent WWI aerial dogfight drama Wings, will receive a limited theatrical re-release in May at select Cinemark theaters nationwide. At the request of the MPAA, Paramount submitted it for review and received a PG-13 for “war violence”.

This newly restored, MPAA-approved version will feature no bloody decapitations, all F-words removed, and several exposed ankles pixilated for younger eyes. Now that the MPAA has removed the stigma of sharing the same non-rating as 2011’s sexaholic character study Shame, families nationwide can safely satisfy the silent-film withdrawal that has kept them debilitated in these waning days of post-The Artist-mania.

Children under 12 will still require parental approval, or else wait for the 2014 edited-for-Nickelodeon version which will delete all human-related scenes, be digitally recolored in shiny blues and oranges, and grant wacky cartoon voices to each of the planes.

Intro Withheld Till Now to Justify Oblique “Firefly” Reference in Previous Post Title

April 30, 2012 By in Meta Tags: , , , , Leave a comment

(Or, “What the Blog Title Means to Me”.)

In 1985 the creative Powers That Be at DC Comics decided that five decades’ worth of heroes, villains, counterparts, successors, multiple Earths, and divergent timelines had conglomerated into one widespread literary hodgepodge of a super-hero universe far too convoluted and alienating for any new and some current readers. Many current readers disagreed, but were overruled.

Their idea of a necessary housecleaning was the 12-issue maxiseries Crisis on Infinite Earths, which united all of these disparate characters, whether hero or villain or powerless supporting character, in a single story that required them to team up and/or fight until many of them were murdered or downsized due to redundancy. The advertising tagline was, “Worlds will live, worlds will die, and the DC Universe will never be the same!” Their solution to overcrowding was akin to savage arena combat on a scale beyond intergalactic.

The story branched beyond those twelve issues into all other existing DC titles for what were termed “Official Crisis Crossovers”, in which issues of their ongoing series would portray unwanted side effects of the Crisis. The impact of each individual crossover issue could be as traumatic as a major character dying at the hands of Crisis villains, or as inconsequential as a single panel telling us, “Look, the sky is red because of Crisis!” and nothing else. The messages sent by all this internecine intertwining were: (1) This story is the Most Important of All Times; and (2) you must buy every issue and crossover, no matter how pointless, or else the bad guys win and we go back to doing lame stories about an uppity Lois Lane conniving to discover that darn Superman’s secret identity.

Because this idea was not unwieldy enough for their overreaching ambition, they also decided that several hundred other company-owned intellectual properties that were never direct participants in the DC Universe — popular self-contained works, cult obscurities, forgotten one-shot wonders, and several super-hero lineups purchased from other defunct publishers — should also henceforth be connected throughout all of spacetime — regardless of genre, tone, or creator wishes — to this same universe. Formerly autonomous casts and milieux were now marched into the mainstream and forced to mingle with strangers, thus retroactively becoming part of a problem that was previously not theirs.

Crisis on Infinite Earths #1 opened with a mysterious armored space hermit called the Monitor (distant cousin to Uatu the Watcher and forefather of the Observers) gathering random, unwitting heroes and villains from various Earths and eras for the purpose of sending them on team missions ostensibly to thwart the plans of his arch-nemesis, the sadly named Anti-Monitor. Over the first six issues Our Heroes’ efforts were collectively futile in preventing the last six issues from happening. Those couple dozen folks are later joined by all surviving heroes anywhere and everywhere, crammed into panels wherever dead space was available, tripping over each other’s capes and buccaneer boots, vying for fifteen seconds of our reading time to exert a single power apiece before losing the spotlight to the winners of the next panel. By #12 the last several hundred survivors were reduced to the size of postage stamps.

After decades of reading, viewing, listening, and general aesthetic consumption, this is how my brain looks on a good day.

Inside is a festival of collisions and team-ups between entities that may or may not add up to much. Spider-Man trades quips with John McClane. Henry Rollins duets with Miss Piggy. Charles Ingalls lectures Ozymandias about the importance of being a decent, hard-working, upright citizen. Dick Loudon and Michael Scott stare at each other to see who can create the funniest prolonged silence. Hulk smash puny humans, except Mongo, because Mongo only pawn in game of life. Somewhere in a large, skittish huddle are real-life politicians and personalities ripped from the headlines, of whom I try maintaining minimal awareness for good measure, even when they bore me. A few 4×6 index cards strewn in one dusty corner contain all my sports knowledge.

Standing on a balcony above them all is Jesus Christ, to whom I gave my life at age 30, and who frequently gives me such a look. I promise I’m not ignoring him, but I can’t merely have Marvin the Martian empty the place with a disintegration ray. Some among this vast lineup offer invaluable memories and Morals of the Story useful to retain. Some are indelible, having been etched in there since childhood. Pretending they no longer exist will only get me so far. I don’t have to idolize them anymore, but I like to think they can be revisited and occasionally repurposed.

Meanwhile, three weeks from now a new villain will attempt to rise above and join my personal Rogues Gallery: the Big 4-0. Despite my best wishes, I’m not getting any younger. Thankfully I’ve not yet evinced cravings for a new unaffordable car, a hot new wife half my age and weight, or amenities such as hair plugs and spray tans that old men my age think they need before they go cruise for unnecessary ladies. So far, so good. Praise the Lord and my amazing wife.

While I’m busy not destroying my life in the name of self-validation, I’m curious to see how the aging process affects my entertainment choices, how my impressions of my everyday surroundings are formulated as my focus changes during the long walk ahead, and what use can be made of my retention of past experiences and salvaged vocabulary. Likewise, as artists and decision-makers change of their own accord, I wonder what will happen if I stand still while they march ahead, or vice versa.

I’m well aware that what I watch and read today does not resemble what Past Me watched and read twenty years ago. Some longtime characters and tales have already exited my head, or are lurking in dark corners where they think I can’t see them. Many newcomers are no longer welcome to the shindig, though an occasional special invitation is issued for select occasions. That which sticks around will find its presence endangered as my brain eventually begins jettisoning guests it no longer welcomes or remembers inviting.

Until then, the place remains one sprawling, ongoing series in which heroes, villains, powerless supporting characters, and real people I’ve known from across four decades’ worth of spacetime meet, greet, team up, and face off against the sinister forces of Father Time, the Lost Youth, the Aging Brain, and the Kids These Days.

The Midlife Crisis Crossover.

Worth noting: after twelve issues and countless crossovers full of fight-and-fight-and-fight, this unprecedented, multiversal, world-shattering epic culminated in a unified DC Universe with a single DC Earth and a singular DC timeline. Less than a decade passed before everything devolved into the same mess with a new look, fraught with ill-conceived reboots, contradictory new histories, unreconciled loose ends, and revisionist miniseries stacked upon revisionist miniseries like new bandages covering old, mottled ones. Square One has become a regular signpost on their vicious roundabout of neverending restarts.

Phillippians 4:13 notwithstanding, I’ve no idea how my own maxiseries will end. A heroic ending would be nice, if far-fetched. One involving use of the phrase “good and faithful servant” would be even better, providing I can stick to the path and pay attention to instructions. Among other things, I know for sure that: (1) This story is the Most Important of All Times; and (2) you must read every installment and crossover, no matter how pointless and overlong, or else the bad guys win.

The Train Job

April 28, 2012 By in Indiana Tags: , , 3 Comments

If I were appointed Mass Transit Czar for the city of Indianapolis, the impossibility thereof notwithstanding, my first plan would be to install a subway system that would initially disrupt the lives of tens of thousands of citizens while ultimately serving hundreds of thousands more.

I’ve had limited exposure to subways in Chicago and DC in years past, but Manhattan’s far-reaching MTA system made last summer’s vacation possible and pleasurable thanks to its comprehensive geographic coverage, lack of service interruptions, and relatively smooth rides even when elbow room was at a premium.  Despite the occasional rush-hour crush and panhandler performance, I appreciated being able to relax in my own way while someone else drove us around at top speeds without the threat of automotive gridlock.  More than any tangible souvenir or gaudy Times Square photo, their subway was what I wanted to bring home from Manhattan more than anything else.

Alas, it can’t be done.  Despite the hopes and wishes of those citizens who’d love to see an efficient light-rail line connecting Carmel and downtown with each other and nowhere else, a combination of special interests, budgetary conservation, and fear of radical change all but ensures I won’t be riding any local rails within my lifetime.  The Methodist/Wishard “people mover” (a euphemism meaning “amusement-park rail ride”) is a nice attraction to stare at longingly during my daily commute, but I think it tops out at a paltry 1.5 miles per hour.  I also dislike that it only has two stops, neither of which is my house.  I understand Indianapolis has a railroad for travel to and from other cities, but my house isn’t that far away.  Adding insult to injury, our nearest IndyGo bus stop is a mile-and-half walk away, and receives only partial daily service.

Submitted for no one’s approval is my own proposal for what an Indianapolis subway system should look like:

Subway Proposal, Accompanying blog forthcoming.

My primary goal: eliminate the archaic wagon-wheel design of our IndyGo routes.  Once upon a time when downtown was everything to everyone, designating it as a transportation hub was a logical plan.  You could take the bus from nearly any point in the city to downtown, transfer to another bus for only a few cents extra, then head back out to any other point in town.  If you enjoyed the stopover in the heart of the city and didn’t mind spending an hour on travel time each way, the bus was a great option.  If you need a ride from West 38th Street to West 71st Street and aren’t up for bicycling, the bus is an absurd option.

Thus my ideal subway routes avoid this misplaced prioritization.  Downtown should not be a mandatory stop for every single ride.  In fact, I minimized downtown subway access because IndyGo has that somewhat covered.  Regardless of pricing, safety, speed, or smells, the option already exists for many neighborhoods.  I made two major concessions:  one line connecting 96th and Meridian to Greenwood Park Mall, and one connecting Avon and Washington Square.  I-465 is handy for driving from one quadrant of town to the next, but travel between polar opposites is interminable and frequently beyond interstate scope.  Those few who live near the randomly placed intersections of I-465 and other interstates should count their blessings.

My secondary goal:  end neighborhood isolationism.  It’s time we broke down barriers and learned to get along citywide.  We can’t do that very well if we never see each other.  Broad Ripple, for one, needs to learn to play better with others.  It has no interstate access, no convenient highways alongside it, and canals too tiny for riverboats.  I resent that every trip to the Vogue feels like I’m infiltrating a landlocked foreign nation, and that’s just the scary parking lot out back.  Sometimes commoners want vinyl LPs, magazine-article clothes, and fair-trade coffee, too.  It’s time to share with others.  Hence the direct line from Broad Ripple to today’s internationally flavored and commercially challenged Lafayette Square Mall area.  The two disparate communities should have much to share with each other.

Same goes double for the northeast side.  Every time I open an issue of Indianapolis Monthly or google new restaurant options, I get the impression all the city’s most talented restaurateurs are sequestering themselves in Carmel or its clingy entourage of other suburbs.  So many learned folk surely have ideas about life, love, peace, and success that would effect remarkable influence and widescale social uplift if only they could be spread to other, needier parts of town.  By direct contrast, Indy’s near-east side has a much longer history than CarmeLand, but is mentioned more frequently in Indianapolis Star articles about murder than any other side of town.  In my brave new city, they’re connected for the sake of transcending castes and fostering a deeper sense of cross-mindset synergy.  Think “buddy-cop film” writ large.  Who doesn’t like buddy-cop films?  If that’s not enough, this same line also connects Carmel with the Marion County Fairgrounds.  Convenient, right?

I’ve created several such team-ups like this, in the same spirit as those miserable “group projects” we all undertook in school against our will. And aren’t we as adults all the better for it?  To that end, I’ve connected Haughville to Beech Grove; Zionsville to Mars Hill; Fountain Square to the Pyramids; Butler University to the University of Indianapolis; the Indianapolis Motor Speedway to the Indianapolis Museum of Art; and Mass Ave to Mug-‘n’-Bun.  You’re all sister areas now.  Play nice.

As in Manhattan, transfers will still be necessary to reach some points B from certain points A.  You’ll note I’ve included a subway route alongside I-465 that can be used to reach Lafayette, Washington, Greenwood, and Castleton Square Malls all within the span of a single day.  That day, of course, would be Black Friday.  You can transfer from any of those four mall stops to the aforementioned meridian lines to reach Circle Centre Mall, and there’s an extra detour toward the Metropolis “lifestyle center” out in Plainfield.  For the true Black Friday overachiever, shuttle service would be offered between Castleton Square and the Keystone Fashion Mall, all the better to provide me access to Key Cinemas.

Speaking of me:  you’ll notice a conglomeration of sorts on the west side.  Since this is my proposal, my convenience is obviously paramount.  In addition to my Key Cinemas shuttle route, these routes are tailored to serve my house, my employer, my regular comic shop, my church, and Fry’s Electronics as well.  Anyone who is exactly like me in every way will learn to appreciate these small concessions.  By way of compromise, I agree to continue using my car for groceries, thereby eliminating one needless subway stop.  That’s just too many bags for me to drag around anyway, especially if the Mass Transit Czar position doesn’t oversee enough paid assistants.

In order to achieve all of this in as little time as possible, we may need to evacuate most of the city for several years until the bulldozing and tunneling are completed.  I also don’t look forward to the tense negotiations that will be required to arrange for the borrowing of lots of underground drilling equipment from West Virginia miners or from any heretofore undiscovered colonies of mole people.  On the upside, construction employment will be at an all-time high during the project.  Any and all unemployed humans and animals with thumbs will be cordially invited to participate.  Said thumbs don’t even need to be opposable.  We need all hands on deck if we’re to make my dream come true before I reach AARP age and become a much more dangerous driver than I already am.

According to my budgetary calculations, which may or may not be affected by how much calculus has faded from my memory since high school ended two decades ago, this project will cost the city approximately thirty-eleven jillion dollars.  Obviously the financial burden should not be dumped on hard-working Hoosier taxpayers, especially not those teeming masses who will be forced by eminent domain to vacate their demolished domiciles and hopefully relocate somewhere nicer and outside the IPS district.

Funding would instead be provided by declaring war on Ohio.  I don’t have any details worked out.  The drawing up of proper war plans would be delegated to the Indiana National Guard or whichever body our state charter designates for inter-state invasion maneuvers.  All I know is Ohio is larger than us, therefore possibly richer than us, and likely won’t even notice they’ve been conquered until it’s too late, after our new subways are operational and carting away their lost treasures, including but not limited to their narrow catalog of Kings Island Skee-Ball prizes and whatever autographed artifacts our boys can loot from the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame.

Granted, this plan is thoroughly unworkable and entirely fictitious.  It’s also just as likely to become reality in my lifetime as any sincere mass transit plan ever to be conceived for Indianapolis.

If this meets with no one’s approval, then I’ll offer to withdraw my name from consideration for the Mass Transit Czar position under one condition: if and only if Key Cinemas grants me the favor of opening a second location on the west side.  That should cost us considerably less than thirty-eleven jillion dollars, even allowing for organic snacks.

Default Intro Removed, Personalized Replacement Procrastinated

April 28, 2012 By in Meta 1 Comment

WordPress says to me upon entering:

Welcome to WordPress.com! This is your very first post. Click the Edit link to modify or delete it, or start a new post. If you like, use this post to tell readers why you started this blog and what you plan to do with it.

Happy blogging!

Rather welcoming of them, a free test post to/for me. Deleting it outright would be unfeeling and dismissive. I’m preserving it for later use, to remind Future Me that, come what may, Jesus loves me and WordPress wishes me happiness.

Actual intro will follow the next set piece, because in today’s entertainment world everything that should have a beginning must have a set piece instead.