1st Teaser Trailer for PT Anderson’s “The Master” Avoids the 11-Letter S-Word

From Paul Thomas Anderson, the director of There Will Be Blood, comes another fictional biopic about a potentially disturbed self-made man whose work would come to affect millions in ways not necessarily for the better. Despite Anderson’s own denials, parts of the Internet swear The Master is thinly veiled nonfiction about L. Ron Hubbard, Dianetics, and/or the creation of Scientology. Any similarities to any movements living or dead, real or fictional, will no doubt be left to the viewer to decide and write pretentious essays in response.

(That’s not meant as derogatory. Seriously, I look forward to reading said essays. Some days I thrive on pretentiousness.)

The cast includes Joaquin Phoenix, Phillip Seymour Hoffman, Amy Adams, Laura Dern, and Kevin J. O’Connor (the lanky toady from Stephen Sommers’ The Mummy). As with Blood, Radiohead’s Jonny Greenwood is composing the presumably eerie, non-traditional score. This first teaser avoids any overt hints of its ostensible subject, instead focusing on flashbacks of Phoenix’s shenanigans while an obscured interrogator watches his immature smugness melt into unease.

[Content warning: teaser contains brief clip of bawdy sand-sculpting.]

I’ve played this a few extra times for the soundtrack alone, but I’m also savoring the one-minute sample of Phoenix’s performance that hints at grander, controversial, hopefully pretentious things to come.

Offer of Free CRT Monitor with Any Purchase Lures Zero Takers

48 hours after the fact, I remain wiped out from our nine-hour 90-degree yard sale last Saturday. Six families contributed assorted items, leftovers, and baked goods as a charity event to benefit three different needs identified by our church on local, national, and international levels. Our results exceeded our humble expectations by far will hopefully fund many a blessing in the future, but fell short of 100% sell-through.

Luckily for my overcrowded bookshelves, my set of the first eighteen Garfield collections sold in the first hour to an elderly gentleman who also carted off a second armload of children’s books. I was equally glad to pass along a Wheel of Fortune home game that we’d used only once but ultimately rejected when its questionable structural integrity began to damage our calm. My wife cheerfully chatted with the two separate families that now provide new homes for her duplicate Star Trek: the Next Generation still-on-card action figures. A pair of small boys each gave a quarter for the only other action figures on hand, a loose Nightwing and an unidentified all-gray DragonBall Z figurine with one point of articulation. A discerning music collector nabbed himself four zero-hit Oasis CDs (naturally we retained Live Forever and What’s the Story, Morning Glory?). The most surprising sale was our redundant copy (long story) of Spider-Man: the Complete Clone Saga Epic, Book 4.

The other five families had their share of victories, notably in the departments of tiny girl clothing, Disney Animated Classics on white-cased VHS, men’s tools (the hot item of the day — figuratively at first, then literally after hours of sitting in intense sunshine), the aforementioned baked goods, and extremely heavy objects.

If we do this again, next time we’ll have a better idea of what not to bring. I’m not sure why I thought a charity drive was the right place to give up old horror anthologies like Kirby McCauley’s Dark Forces and David Hartwell’s The Dark Descent. Also untouched were my dub copies of Metallica’s S&M, which wore out their welcome long ago after a second listening, but somehow evaded all my previous collection culls. My wife’s Grease soundtrack sat alone and unloved all day. My thirty-year-old copies of Bargain Hunter and Life, both still playable, went into the Goodwill sacks at closing time. The only two large-scale objects that she and I brought, our obsolete 25″ CRT TV and my ancient microwave, returned home with us perfectly functional yet rejected by all.

In fact, all things CRT wound up the biggest loser category of the day. We started at eight a.m. with eight CRT monitors and one flatscreen monitor. We ended the day with eight CRT monitors. By one p.m. we were willing to make crazy deals with the few customers bold enough to brave the afternoon heat just for roadside discounts, but no one would touch the monitors. By three p.m. one of our more adventurous companions was offering a free monitor to every customer, with or without a purchase. No luck. Imagine if the concept of “Get Eight Monitors for Just One Penny!” had been concocted years ago, perhaps Columbia House and BMG might still be in business today. Such a shame that window of opportunity has now passed. Customers were kind enough to continue making charitable donations in addition to their small random purchases, but Adopt-a-Monitor was a total no-go.

Maybe we should’ve added Garfield stickers on the sides of each one and labeled them “Collector’s Item Classics!” or even “Actual props from that one scene in Office Space!” Maybe that’s what we need to work on for our next yard sale. Maybe our problem wasn’t poor merchandise, but poor marketing.

Reviews Mocking “Battleship” Drive Product Placement for Other Board Games Up 4000%

This month’s most popular Internet pastime has been writers jabbing the latest Transformers sequel by asking the rhetorical question, “What’s next, ________?” and filling in the blank with the one game they were most frequently beaten at as a kid. Unable to settle on just one punchline, the May 25th issue of Entertainment Weekly even provides a full page of Photoshop humor that name-checks five different classic games. Naturally this list includes the commonest punchline of the day, Hungry Hungry Hippos, which in the past month has skyrocketed to 192,000 Google results, up from a pre-Battleship all-time high of twenty-three Google results, twenty of which were disturbing fetish sites.

I expect most of the true classics have already been snatched up by large studios with massive budgets. Fortunately, if I were a Hollywood executive in need of more properties to license, I have memories from childhood and adulthood to plumb for potential licenses I could plunder that few of my arch-rivals would be equipped to translate to the silver screen.

My hypothetical release slate for summer 2015 would include:

Dungeon! — Someone brilliant at TSR boiled Dungeons & Dragons down to its essential elements: dungeon-crawling, simple hack-‘n’-slash, and treasure-hoarding. When my friends tired of the RPG aspect of Advanced D&D (i.e., whatever TSR module connected their AD&D battles into a story), we’d put away their character sheets and most of the dice, break Dungeon! out of the box, and go mindless.

In the movie version, the dragons, trolls, and other monsters would be replaced by giant alien robots. The titular dungeon would exist beneath a large European city that spectacularly collapses throughout the film from all the explosions undermining it.

Dark Tower — Another fantasy board game, this one dominated by a large electronic tower (batteries not included) that stood at the center of the board and determined the course of events on each player’s turn via LED numbers, flashing pictures, and annoying sound effects. The day mine broke down for good was a sad day indeed, except to adult family members who spent the evening sighing with joy.

In the movie version, the Tower itself is like an undertall Unicron ordering hordes of giant alien robots to overrun the lands of Ripoff Middle Earth. The original sound effects are cranked up to 11, distorted through several filters at ILM, and earn an Academy Award nomination. The movie’s release will be accompanied by vigorous lawsuits against any Stephen King adaptations that attempt to use the same name.

Run for Your Life, Candyman! — I was introduced to Smirk and Dagger Games at their 2009 GenCon booth. Not long after, I made a point of ordering a copy of this early release, a Candyland spoof that adds the single most crucial element the original game always lacked: a violent combat system. Each player is an armed and dangerous gingerbread man, opening fire on opponents while absconding through nightmarish candy-themed badlands. It’s a black-humor hoot that’s much more challenging and disturbing than its predecessor.

In the movie version, all those candy building blocks are the MacGuffin sought by a race of giant alien robots who need sugar for fuel. Firing nuclear weapons point-blank in each other’s faces over the centuries has resulted in a species-wide genetic deformity that prevents them from metabolizing raw cane sugar, so the processed sugar of faux-Candyland is their only hope. This would merely be an adaptation of the original Candyland if it weren’t for the gingerbread men’s extremely loud machine guns.

Bargain Hunter — This shopping game taught kids how to search store ads patiently for the lowest prices on furniture, appliances, and pets, as well as how to buy them with either cash or credit card. It came with a plastic credit card machine and several pretend credit cards that you inserted into the machine. You ran the cards through like a real machine, and prayed for purchase approval just like a real shopper. The rules for credit card interest accrual were sketchy and failed to reflect the realities of APRs, annual fees, and predatory lending, but you learned pretty quickly what a fair price was for an exotic lizard.

In the movie version, every department store in the Big City is taken over by a race of giant alien robots calling themselves The Bargain, who aim to dominate Earth’s economic infrastructures from within. Humanity’s last hope against this one-percenter allegory is a single man with a whip-smart attitude and no credit cards to max out. This hero will be played by Dave Ramsey.

Clue: the Great Museum Caper — I’m not sure this sequel ever became a household name, but it’s still a favorite in our family. One player is a thief sneaking through an art museum to steal paintings, recording their movements on a secret notepad in lieu of a physical playing piece on the board itself. The other players are detectives hoping to land blindly on the thief’s space as the disappearing paintings and disabled security devices give away his position. C:tGMC offered more variation in its gameplay and used none of the original characters, not even that cursed Miss Scarlet who was guilty in nine out of every ten times I played.

In the movie version, we pick up where the first Clue movie left off, wherever that was. I never saw it or its three different endings. Clue 2: Dark of the Monet will replace the art museum with the first game’s mansion setting and have twelve different endings. In each ending, the culprit is a different giant alien robot who retaliates against arrest attempts by blasting apart the study, the ballroom, and the conservatory.

File 13 — An integral part of my D&D experience was a subscription to Dragon Magazine, which occasionally came with free cut-out board games designed by a cartoonist named Tom Wham. My favorite was File 13, in which players were game designers attempting to shepherd their silly-named creations through a game-design flowchart. If one of your games reached the end of the chart, your game was published and you won. The board was a pull-out double-page spread; the pieces were tiny colored squares you had to cut out yourself. I still have my copy of the game tucked away in a Ziploc bag somewhere ’round here.

In the movie version, we replace all the games with giant alien robots, the flowchart with a giant alien robot factory, and the name File 13 with the title Transformers 5: Real Steel 2. Otherwise it’s an utterly faithful adaptation.

NBC Keeps “Community” Because Torturing Beloved Show More Fun Than Canceling It

Like most of ugly America, I initially, unfairly wrote off Community sight unseen as another generic ensemble comedy. Their first paintball episode changed my mind before the third act. A few reruns later, it earned the designation of My New Favorite Show. After a Season 1 DVD viewing binge and an iTunes shopping spree for the first several episodes of season 2, I caught up to the present and proudly stuck around ever after. Not since Futurama has a show mined geek culture so efficiently for so many comedy diamonds. The quick yet incisive character moments and off-the-cuff references fly past the viewer at an Aaron Sorkin fever pitch. The complicated emotional core keeps the study group grounded and bonded without reducing them to typical sitcom caricatures. It’s dense, razor-sharp, off-the-wall, and heartfelt all at once.

Like other fans, I winced and fretted throughout season 3 as it was trounced every week in the ratings by other, inferior, even loathsome shows. My attempts to convince friends of its worth had limited success. A few Internet acquaintances hopped aboard. Some sided with its competition, particularly CBS’ loathsome antithesis, and basically punched me in the heart. I even tried telling family members, but the conversation would have the same disappointing turnout every time. I would mention the show; they would confess they’d never heard of it; I would describe it to them in so many words (neither too many nor too few); they would nod and agree that they should try it sometime; and three minutes later they would forget we had ever spoken.

I was amazed when NBC announced its renewal. My low-rated favorite shows rarely receive a stay of execution. Sometimes a merciful renewal can be a good thing, as when Dollhouse used its season 2 to ratchet everything up several notches and ended with explosive closure. Sometimes it’s a bad thing, as when Veronica Mars used its season 3 to jump every shark in sight (new setting! new characters! loss of old characters! Logan turns to the dark side!) and ended on a despondent cliffhanger.

I had faith that Community would aim for the former over the latter. Of late, NBC has been doling out hints to the contrary, one lamentable update at a time. With that renewal announcement, we were informed the season 4 order would be only thirteen episodes. That’s no guarantee of eventual cancellation, merely a sign they’re proceeding with caution before making a final decision about whether or not to pick up the back nine. Given its underwhelming ratings performance with the all-powerful Nielsen commoners, their reticence is understandable if discouraging.

Later we were told the show would move to Fridays. On Fox this is an unqualified death sentence, especially for a sci-fi show. Community isn’t sci-fi every week, but contains elements. NBC may not be a juggernaut on Fridays, but at least they’re not Fox. Grimm survived its freshman year on Fridays. It can be done.

In that same announcement, we were told its Friday slot will be 8:30 after Whitney. When NBC first aired Whitney on Thursdays after The Office, I don’t recall its ratings topping those of its three lead-ins. After sampling two failed minutes of an unmarried couple communicating entirely through unfunny sex jokes, our household unanimously decided that on every Thursday, 9:30 would conclude our broadcast day. I would hum “The Star-Spangled Banner” in my head and turn the TV off. I am unable to imagine a scenario in which leading off primetime with Whitney will result in Community converting more viewers and surging in popularity.

I’ve had a few days now to convince myself that, short of NBC reversing its decision and axing Community after all, things shouldn’t get any worse.

Today ruined all that when I learned creator Dan Harmon was fired as showrunner:

Just a day after it was announced former Happy Endings writers David Guarascio and Moses Port would take over the Community creator’s showrunner position, Harmon took to his Tumblr page to sound off…

To recap: next season the show will air thirteen episodes on Fridays after Whitney with its creator no longer in charge.

I now wait with bated breath for the next deathly announcement to drop. Will Greendale Community College be replaced with a wacky coffee shop? Will Joel McHale be replaced by Tony Danza? Will Annie turn to the dark side? Will the cast now communicate entirely through unfunny sex jokes? Will Chevy Chase begin receiving an Executive Producer credit? What can go wrong next?

I can count the reasons I should stay. Please tell me, one by one, they all won’t fade away. Pretty please?

Indianapolis Food Trucks Cure Pandemics, Negotiate Worldwide Economic Stability (Part 3 of 3)

Concluding my recollections of what our local food trucks have done for me. My experiences with the following trucks weren’t exactly scarring, but arguably had margin for improvement. Some cases may have been singular events unlike the average customer’s experience; others may simply not be my cup of tea.

Scratchtruck — Our side of downtown offers very few oases for large, fast burgers. Make no mistake, I was grateful for the chance to try their 1/3-pound Scratch Burgers, topped with bacon marmalade, arugula and gorgonzola. It was worth the money and deserves some repeat business. My fries, which cooled off in no time flat, were less demanding of an encore.

West Coast Tacos — The granddaddy of all trucks, the one that started it all here in Indy. They were the first to specialize in imaginative tacos bereft of cheese, lettuce, or tomatoes. They’re absolutely not a Taco Bell homage. Unfortunately, when I tried three varieties in one meal, the meat on my chicken teriyaki taco tasted as though it had been sitting in a dry marinating pan for hours. As someone who once worked at McDonald’s during a time when they failed at venturing into the fajita market, I know a thing or two about dry marinating pans and the meat they ruin. If I’m wrong and that texture was intentional, then this isn’t my thing after all.

Molly’s Great Chicago Fire — Chicago-style hot dogs with tons of toppings. Great toppings and decent deli-style buns, but on a good day our downtown also has hot dog carts with same-size dogs for half the price. They’re the only truck I know with a breakfast menu (my all-time favorite food group), but I’ve never seen them around in the morning.

Der Pretzel Wagen — I support the concept of pretzels presented in various wondrous forms. My pretzel dogs were great, but when der Wagenmeister asked if I wanted any mustard, I had the audacity to ask for mustard…and ketchup. I could feel the temperature in the air between us drop fifteen degrees as he searched the truck for a packet with such a look. In my defense, I don’t insist on ketchup for every hot dog I eat. I almost never dump it on burgers or fries. Sometimes I’m just in a weird mood and don’t feel responsible for upholding everyone else’s high-falutin’ culinary standards. Besides, if I really wanted to gauche it up, I would’ve asked for Cheez Whiz, or maybe grape jelly.

Groovy Guys Gourmet Fries — Nacho fries, pizza fries, and other variations in the topped-fries genre. The top layer of my steak-‘n’-cheese fries was a small, delectable meal. Below the surface, all that remained were ordinary fries. I had hoped in vain for total meat saturation. They also offered deluxe fry dips such as hummus and sesame ginger sauce — something I should try next time, perhaps, but not as a main dish. I’ll need to pack a sandwich that day.

The following trucks have parked nearby but found ways for me to miss them anyway:

Some of This, Some of That — The first couple times they stopped by, their logo was so hard to read that I couldn’t discern their name well enough from my floor to google them for details. Eventually I caught the name and learned they’re another Cajun truck. I wouldn’t mind trying them, but they’ve mastered the art of hanging out only on days when I have no extra money. That bad timing is totally not their fault, unless they have spy sensors in my wallet and a cruel sense of humor.

Side Wok Dumplings — The first time I noticed them out front, a police car later double-parked near them with lights flashing and hung out for quite a while. The next time they appeared, the sign on their side had been removed. I haven’t seen them since. Their last tweet was five months ago. I’m betting somewhere out there is a great anecdote that connects those sketchy details.

Fat Sammies — An Italian food truck should be a saucy, intoxicating experience. I wish I knew. They pulled away just as I was walking toward them with cash on hand and appetite in stomach. This happened twice. The second time, it was 12:30 on a Friday. As of this writing their last tweet was four months ago. I sense something is amiss.

The list presented in this three-part miniseries is by no means complete. I’m aware of a few trucks that stake out territories outside downtown, and not just in the suburbs. I’ve found this is the biggest drawback to the food truck concept: if you know a specific truck you want to sample, or if you grow too attached to a great one, then you may have to hunt them down. Their collective, lively Twitter presence is a boon for keeping fans and foodies informed of their whereabouts, as are food-truck locator sites such as Roaming Hunger or TruxMap.

More often than not, you’ll have to be patient and wait for them to appear unto you as a pleasant surprise. I like to think the stronger and more popular among them are here to stay. Just the same, check ’em out when the opportunity arises, before a food truck glut begins culling more of the herd…or worse, before someone gives Unigov a reason to brainstorm harsh new rules and regulations to appease their brick-‘n’-mortar competition.

40th Birthday Successfully Celebrated Without Alcohol, Adultery, or ’80s Pop Nostalgia

My 40th birthday, the impending milestone that inspired me to begin chronicling the effects of the aging process on my perceptions of the world around me, has come to pass. The prophecy bespoken by no one in particular has been fulfilled!

With this brand new decade, I expect my body and mind to fall apart a little more quickly. I’ll question my life’s purpose and usefulness a little more stubbornly. I’ll gripe a little more loudly about the entertainment industry and how they cater to everyone’s whims except mine. I’ll be slightly less tolerant of those pesky kids on my lawn, though not quite perturbed enough to chase them myself. All of this assumes it the Lord’s will for me not to drive headlong into a concrete wall tomorrow morning, of course.

So far, no sign of any amplified angst.

It’s my understanding I should be depressed about aging, fussing about my hairline, and wishing I looked hot even though I’m blissfully married. None of that happened today. Admittedly, I already survived the hairline phase last year. I’m glad it hasn’t lingered. I don’t look forward to its resurgence in the future. When it comes to prices we have to pay, though, the hairline is a bargain.

Truth is, I don’t miss my mandatory young-stupid-male years. I’m much more content as a non-young man than I ever was in any given school year. I didn’t spend today moping or waxing nostalgic or listening to ’80s hits over and over again like some of my peers do, as if old Madonna singles were like some kind of aural Fountain of Youth.

My last day at 39 was spent working and playing Final Fantasy VI with my son. My first day at 40 was spent working and dining with family at Bazbeaux Pizza. The two days weren’t radically dissimilar. Yesterday I earned virtual treasures; today, I was blessed with intangible presents and also happened to receive a few tangible ones. I stayed up late last night to confirm I didn’t turn wrinkly or crotchety upon the twelfth peal of the nearest ominous church bell.

Maybe I’m more mellow than I should be because NBC spoiled me with three solid new episodes of Community in a single night. Those alone made today the complete polar opposite of my twelfth birthday, the evening of which I spent wracked with stomach pains while on TV Bobby Ewing was killed in an accident on a show I didn’t want to watch. Fortunately my pain and his death were each temporary. I had thought the show was, too. How generous of Hollywood to knock a perfect score down to two-out-of-three some 28 years after the fact.

This song, I think, sums up my current state of complacency, however misplaced or fleeting:

Just the same, I’ll be steering clear of any and all concrete walls tomorrow. You never know which one has your name on it.

Indianapolis Food Trucks Save Day, Change World for Better (Part 2 of 3)

Continuing the recount of my encounters with the Indianapolis food truck phenomenon. Although the five trucks I covered in part 1 were extraordinarily good, the following trucks merely ranged from extremely good to very, very good.

The Spice Box — At last, a convenient source of Indian food! The little Indian place we once had near work shut down years ago. No other member of my household will join me at any local establishments such as India Palace or the Shalimar. The Spice Box and their Chicken Tikka Masala cater to a very underserved niche in my palate. Oddly, they can often be seen teaming up with the Mac Genie mac-‘n’-cheese truck for an interesting either/or face-off. Taken together, they’re symbolic of the duality of man.

Taco Lassi — More Indian food, but served Mexican-style with “local ingredients and natural meats.” This sounds wrong, but works well. The Chicken Tandoori won for me last time, but I still need to try the fabled Mango Lassi at some point.

Seoul Grill — Korean tacos! Or, if you need a break from food-truck tacos and don’t insist on meat, try their kimchi quesadillas. I do insist on meat, but don’t let my rules inhibit you.

Gypsy Cafe — Their massive Cuban po-boy is the largest food-truck sandwich I’ve had to date, not to mention one of the most competitively priced. As with Korean and Indian, this is another food group shamefully lacking in my suburb. Some online reviews complain that their use of mayo calls their authenticity into question. I forgive them.

The NY Slice — Pizza truck! Everybody loves pizza! They’re at a disadvantage because they have to compete with a decent brick-‘n’-mortar Enzo Pizza down the block, but the NY Slice has its own charm. I appreciated that they offered options beyond the pepperoni-sausage-cheese Axis of Ho-Hum. Fans of thin pizza might appreciate that their crust isn’t as doughy. Also in the NY Slice’s favor: they’re not a corporate franchise.

Chef Dan’s Southern Comfort — The Catfish Po’boy may not have been as spicy as the other dishes on their Cajun-themed menu, but I was fine with it. It should be noted one of my coworkers didn’t care for the untoasted, unwarmed bun on her sandwich. I don’t deduct points for bun quality unless it’s stale, frozen, or Subway.

To be concluded!

Superman Celebration 2012 to Feature Superboy, Tess Mercer, Satan

At the southern tip of Illinois and across the Ohio River from Paducah, the small town of Metropolis devotes the second weekend of every June to their world-famous Superman Celebration. More than just a carnival acknowledging their local heritage and history, the Celebration invites tourists from all walks to come join in their festivities. Their Main Street’s center of attention is the also-world-famous Superman Museum, dedicated to their greatest fictional resident, the recently rebooted Superman. Also major draws: the special guests from various Superman movies, TV shows, and other related Super-works who drop by for autographs and Q&As.

This coming June 8th and 9th, my wife and I will be attending our fourth Celebration after previous enjoyable experiences in 2001, 2006, and 2008. The 300-mile drive from Indianapolis to Metropolis against 65-MPH speed limits is not quite my favorite road trip, and we’re not a fan of their casino in any way, but when the Celebration aligns with our schedule, we consider it a weekend well spent.

This year’s guest list as of this writing, subject to change without notice, includes:

John Glover! Normal people know him best as the great and powerful Lionel Luthor, but my favorite Glover role remains that of the Devil himself on the short-lived Fox horror series Brimstone. Peter Horton was necessarily glum and stoic as a resurrected widower charged with returning escaped souls to damnation, while Glover stole all the fun as the sly, charming, yet no less fiendish Prince of Darkness who called the shots and had all the best lines. In addition to voicing the Riddler on Batman: the Animated Series, Glover also earned extra Lionel practice when he played a less-than-commendable one-percenter with a fancy high-rise in the overlooked epic Gremlins 2: the New Batch, recently released on Blu-ray. Glover, more than anyone else, is why my wife and I are pinning this year’s Celebration on our calendar.

Cassidy Freeman! The ambiguously antagonistic Tess Mercer was one of the highlights of Smallville‘s later seasons, much of which we avoided. In those few latter-day episodes I did catch, Freeman was a welcome addition who never disappointed.

Gerard Christopher! I never watched The Adventures of Superboy, but my wife seems eager to meet him, so I’ll assume she did. I bought the first several issues of DC’s accompanying comic series because of spiffy Kevin Maguire covers, but that’s as far as my attention went.

George Perez! I met this legendary comics artist at Wizard World Chicago 1999, but it’ll be great to see what he’s up to these days up close, even if it’s part of DC’s New 52.

Terry Beatty! Co-creator/co-owner of the ’80s hard-boiled detective comic Ms. Tree, and co-creator of DC’s own Iowa vigilante Wild Dog. The costume looks odd today, but I still have my copies and fond memories of the original Wild Dog miniseries and his serial in Action Comics Weekly.

And more! The “Artists and Writers” section on the official site has a couple of names and will surely expand in the weeks ahead. For your small-town festival entertainment, scheduled at various points are strong-man displays, bicycle stunts performed by locals, and a Southern gospel quartet. Of paramount importance is the wonder of deep-fried carnival food, steeped in rich, creamery butter. (Fun trivia: the Superman Celebration is where I first met sweet potato fries. I remember a time when those weren’t a common steakhouse side dish.)

If you prefer to stick to convention-shaped events, your options are a Saturday fan film contest, a dance party, and a Sunday costume contest. Usually I’m a sucker for costume contests (and for posting photo parades online after the fact), but Sunday won’t be doable for us. Dances are no-go as a general rule. As for the fan films…we’ll check our exhaustion levels and plan from there.

I highly recommend keeping tabs on the official Superman Celebration site or their official Facebook page for updates, calamities, and hints about their autograph procedures, which aren’t as simple as “Show up, line up, walk up, win!” In fact, I’ll need to go review those myself…

Indianapolis Food Trucks Win Hearts and Lunchtime (Part 1 of 3)

My favorite new (over)use of disposable income in 2011 was the veritable tidal wave of food trucks that began flooding Indianapolis in general and downtown in particular. All those new options coming and going at random have enlivened many a workday with their momentary detours from our ruts, their surprise goodies luring us curbside, and the occasional menu items we’ve had to Google for definitions.

Out of the sixteen trucks on which I’ve overspent, none of them has sold me a disastrous experience. Food quality has varied, but all staffers were pleasant and welcoming, as one would hope to encounter at their traditional brick-‘n’-mortar counterparts (albeit sometimes in vain). Super Bowl LXVI weekend saw a particularly lively food truck festival between several trucks gridlocked on Monument Circle, greeting and feeding any tourists who strayed from the colossal party down on Georgia Street. It was all the more opportunity for me to sample wares and pass the good word along to the neighbors on my cubicle block.

Of my food truck experiences to date, five served hard and stood tallest:

Duos. Their motto of “Slow Food Fast” humbly belies their true calling of vegan and gluten-free sandwiches and soups with gourmet ingredients, of the varieties exclusive to your more upscale groceries. Not all their dishes are tailored for those two categories, but those that are have been equally delicious to those of us with general-audience appetites. Duos has done so well for themselves that they’ve recently opened a brick-‘n’-mortar location down the street from the Children’s Museum. They’re the only food truck I’ve patronized more than half a dozen times, and the only truck with a schedule consistent enough for me to consider as appointment dining.

Keys Gourmet Slider Station. Think White Castle with exotic toppings. I heartily endorse this idea. I’ve rarely seen them around of late, but trust that they’ve been off enriching the lives of others who were far more in need of enrichment.

Mac Genie. A recent article in Indianapolis Monthly extolled the up-‘n’-coming trend of fine-dining restaurants offering specialty mac-‘n’-cheese on their menus for refined sensibilities. As I recall, none of the featured restaurants were near my home or workplace. Thankfully Mac Genie will appear from nowhere to grant my wish of dense, prettied-up cheesy carbs with non-standard toppings. (I actually make a concerted effort not to wish for this too often, for the sake of my physical health. This kind of harmful wishing is why I’m not allowed to own any Arabian lamps.)

Scout’s Treats. If you prefer your desserts prepackaged and artificially preserved, this truck isn’t for you. The proprietor/baker/driver specializes in scrumptious chocolate ganache cupcakes and sea salt brownies that make Little Debbie cry all over her factory floor.

The Edwards Drive-In Dashboard Diner. On the complete opposite end of the culinary spectrum from Duos in innumerable ways is this mobile version of the longtime south-side drive-in As Seen On TV’s Man v. Food. Giant sandwiches and intimidating sides provide a heapin’ helping of shortening overdose that we less finicky businesspeople are hard-pressed to find anywhere else downtown. I have yet to witness a single coworker finish an entire tenderloin and order of onion rings without begging for assistance from others.

To be continued!

Did One Awful Line Cost “Dark Shadows” Millions of Ticket Sales?

In its second weekend of release, Joss Whedon’s Marvel’s The Avengers raked in yet another $100 million at the US box office. By next Friday its grosses should surpass 2012’s previous champ, The Hunger Games. Running a distant second place, Tim Burton’s $150 million reboot of 1979’s Love at First Bite should be proud that it earned in a single weekend what Disney’s Chimpanzee has earned in four, but appears unlikely to catch up to Disney’s John Carter by the end of its run.

I’ve seen six of the seven previous collaborations between Tim Burton and Johnny Depp (Sweeney Todd continues to elude me) and respect their general track record as a team despite my misgivings over Alice in Wonderland. However, this weekend’s performance implies I wasn’t alone in being repulsed by the trailers.

Strike One was the music selected from old K-Tel disco compliations. I’m not a big fan of trailers augmented with overplayed Top-40 oldies, which don’t score nostalgia points with me as they do my peers and elders. In my ’80s youth, we were used to the occasional ’60s hit here and there in our trailers, frequently even sung by the characters. In the grand scheme, a twenty-year-old song was forgivable. Whoever edited the Dark Shadows trailer was required by the setting to indulge in a musical generation gap twice as wide. This year Curtis Mayfield’s “Super Fly” will celebrate its 40th birthday, and the other tracks weren’t much newer. Disco would be the perfect bait if the film’s target audience were former polyester dance-floor kings over age 60.

I realize the filmmakers chose 1972 as their landing point for a specific purpose, but did the trailer need to sound like every other 1970s spoof ever made? Was disco the only genre of choice for musicians from 1970 to 1979 in the same way that the 1990-1999 Billboard charts were comprised entirely of sad-sack grunge acts? Somehow I don’t remember it that way.

Think about that number again: forty years. Perhaps rose-colored glasses have obscured my hindsight, but I don’t recall ads for the original Fright Night featuring much Bing Crosby, or the Jimmie Dorsey Orchestra luring the kids in to see Jim Carrey’s Once Bitten. I am similarly unconvinced that The Lost Boys would have doubled its grosses if the Saxophone Guy had been replaced by the Andrews Sisters belting out “Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy”.

Strike Two was Depp’s portrayal of Eddie Munster as an anachronistic stiff with the self-awareness of Michael Scott. I hope the actual film at least avoids the hackneyed man-out-of-time joke from other movies in which a displaced hero looks at a modern car and thinks it’s a dragon, despite having wheels just like any known wagon from any previous millennium.

Strike Three was this slow-paced exchange of comedy death:

“Are you stoned or something?”

“They tried stoning me, my dear. It did not work.”

This was the exact moment that certified the movie as unwatchable for me. I know from bad puns. This is not how you construct a good bad pun. This…is a bad bad pun. This is humor for viewers who still chortle anytime someone says, “Ya think?” Those same fans are probably skipping theaters and waiting for its release on DVD, which might have been a better first home for this flick. I have no intention of getting past the trailers and finding out objectively whether or not this “joke” is an isolated instance, either in theaters or months later at home.

When it comes to TV-show remakes as self-parody, that quota is already filled on my shelves by The Brady Bunch Movie. I’ll pass.

2011-2012 TV Cancellations Announced, All My Favorite Shows Spared

The week of May 14th-18th will be the annual TV network upfronts, in which America’s least predictable executives present their next fall’s schedule to advertisers in hopes of fostering viewer anticipation and large sacks of money. These mostly finalized lists provide us with the best possible confirmation of renewals, cancellations, midseason postponements, and symptoms of executive dysfunction. Thanks to the last two days’ deluge of announcements from Entertainment Weekly and other sources, 2012’s final results are mostly in ahead of schedule.

Several shows were already canceled in previous months; some of them, mere minutes after their second episodes ended. Some crews have been notified of their loss within the past 48 hours and are still working through the Five Stages. For me the casualties of the 2011-2012 season fall into five categories.

(Please note: I am far from completist on this. No doubt we’ll receive solemn notice of more victims shortly. Let it be known I pay no heed to reality-show obituaries at all. Or reality shows in general, for that matter.)

Shows I watched at least once:
Alcatraz
Awake
Prime Suspect
Terra Nova

Ten minutes of Prime Suspect was enough for me. I no longer remember why, though I recall the hat didn’t help. I lasted through the full two-hour premiere of Alcatraz but couldn’t forgive Sam Neill’s stern appropriation of Dr. Evil’s cocked eyebrow. Awake started strong, but I bowed out after four episodes, once it lapsed into its own unique but grating formula that required the exact same scene twice every week:

“Let’s go check out this completely irrelevant thing! It’s extremely important to our case!”
“What? Why? It has nothing to do with anything.”
“Uhhhhhhhhhhhh…magical hunch?”
“That’s utterly stupid. Let’s roll.”

Terra Nova, on the other hand, I followed from start to finish. For the first several episodes, I had little love for any of the Shannon kids (mandatory cutie-pie Zoe, lovestruck rebel/dork Josh, and Not Quite Jan Brady), but by the end their family was functioning much better as a unit and had developed a rudimentary foundation of supporting characters that could be built upward in future seasons. Sometimes there were even dinosaurs. My son appreciated that every episode had a one-dinosaur-head minimum. The cliffhanger finale hinted at interesting new directions in the days ahead, but the showrunners’ imaginations wrote checks that their advertising income couldn’t cash. I had hoped for a second season with downgraded expectations (say, CG supplanted by sock puppetry), but I’ve had to let that go.

Shows I never tried, but bear no ill will:
The Finder
The Firm
A Gifted Man
Harry’s Law
Ringer
The River
Secret Circle

If someone bought me a Complete Series set as a gift, I wouldn’t sneer and toss it in the Goodwill bag, but it might be several years before I find time to sample episode one.

Shows you could pay me to watch once, but no one ever did:
Allen Gregory
Are You There, Chelsea?
Breaking In
Charlie’s Angels
Free Agents
H8R
How to Be a Gentleman
I Hate My Teenage Daughter
Man Up!
Missing

Some shows I look at and say, “Why?” TV execs look at them and say, “Why not?” I await their cancellations and say, “That’s why.” Many shows have outlived my expectations. None of these did.

Shows you couldn’t pay me to watch because of, shall we say, scruples:
GCB
Pan Am
The Playboy Club

Shows 100% unfamiliar to me:
Bent
Best Friends Forever

I first learned about the existence of these two shows in this week’s headlines. I think I blinked at just the wrong month.

I was pleasantly stunned, however, at some of the renewals. As a past viewer of Firefly, FlashForward, Persons Unknown, Brimstone, and other unplanned fatalities, I’ve come to expect most of my shows to vaporize every year as a tradition. My TV habits dwell in a Hunger Games world where Grey’s Anatomy and Two-and-a-Half Men are Career Tributes and my favorite scripted shows are the carcasses that fertilize the field around the Cornucopia.

Surprise twist for me, then: other than Terra Nova, all my shows will return next season, even NBC’s widely shunned Thursday lineup. I’m grateful to those responsible for granting stays of execution for my unfairly unwatched shows this year, despite attempts by those nefarious Nielsen families to ignore them into oblivion.

For once, the day is saved thanks to…TV executives!

Countdown: Four Weeks Until US Release of Last Ten Unspoiled Minutes of “Prometheus”

Ridley Scott’s newest science fiction milestone commands the cover of the May 18th issue of Entertainment Weekly, whose sidebars in previous issues about the Alien prequel/spinoff/homage/whatever may already have said too much. If the official American trailers, several international trailers, viral-marketing future DVD extras, epic-length WikiPedia entry, and half-baked rumor sites haven’t whetted your appetite for advance knowledge (true or false), EW’s article also reveals which character is not quite human, which ones are corporate toadies, and which one is our primary protagonist. Along with those Dell-logic-problem clues, factor in the Hollywood pecking order of Academy Award Winner Charlize Theron, Academy Award Nominee Young Magneto, Lisbeth Salander Prime, Stringer Bell, Leonard Shelby, two male unknowns, and one female unknown. Savvy viewers should be able to calculate their order of elimination in the finished product with a margin of error of ±1 corpse.

If you mean to save yourself for the American release date of June 8th, hiding from the Internet will not be enough. TV ads have now been unleashed to the networks so that the Midwest will finally get a look-see. Expect more magazines to follow in EW’s footsteps in the weeks ahead, including the inevitable TV Guide cover straining to cash in on the hype with the most tenuous of TV connections. I predict a showcase along the lines of “Twenty Best Movies Starring Actors from The Office: Prometheus, Bridesmaids, Get Smart, and More!” I won’t be surprised to see ancillary merchandise at the comic shop. The true danger zone begins June 1st when the movie opens early in England because of favoritism. Expect Internet hall monitors to place their sites futilely on emergency spoiler lockdown when waves of soccer-hooligan trolls begin tweeting drunken screen shots and plot-loophole complaints live from their theater seats.

I count myself among the wave of fans who saw James Cameron’s Aliens before seeing the original Alien and consequently have a hard time discussing contrary opinions with old-school fans who were marked for life when they saw the classic chest-bursting surprise on the big screen. I may rank the four films differently, but to this day I don’t hate any of them (the two crossovers are another story). I hope not to hate this one as well, but with so much time remaining for so much more to be ruined, I may need to play the hermit card and go underground like Newt till it’s safe. I can’t just nuke the Internet from orbit, so there’s no way to be sure.

Tomorrow’s Publishers Mine Yesterday’s Concepts for Today’s Freebies (FCBD, Part 3 of 3)

Thus the trilogy concludes:

Donald Duck Family Comics (Fantagraphics) — After previous stints with Gladstone, Hamilton, and BOOM!, Disney relocates their American reprint license once more. Fortunately Fantagraphics knows a thing or two about quality reprints. The FCBD trial offer is a satisfying dose of Carl Barks’ classic Duck stories for the next generation. Funnier than Archie, more inventive than Harvey Comics, frequently smarter than the super-heroes of their time — Barks’ works deserve perpetual reintroduction to every incoming class of freshman comics fans.

Green Lantern/Young Justice Super Sampler/Superman Family Adventures Flipbook (DC Comics) — Art Baltazar and Franco, the minds behind Tiny Titans, open Side A with a done-in-one Hal Jordan tale that’s a basic fight scene with an oooooold foe name Myrwhydden, who’s like Mr Mxyzptlk minus pranks. At least it’s a complete story, unlike the other two shorts: a five-page Young Justice excerpt pitting them against burglars who can’t hit a target point-blank with a semiautomatic; and a five-page excerpt from a Baltazar/Franco Clark/Lois/Jimmy story for kids. The Young Justice show is in a bad time slot for me, and I’ve no interest in the new GL cartoon (viewed superficially from outside, it seems to turn the Lantern factions into squabbling space gangs), but I appreciate what they’re doing in the comics versions for wee would-be readers.

The Infernal Devices: Clockwork Angel (Yen Press) — Manga about a stupid girl who follows the orders of complete strangers and can’t believe it when they bring her a world of hurt. She finds surprise accompaniment in a fellow captive who’s fortunately a homicide detective. Also, she can shape-shift into another girl. Walking into this blindly, I lost out on any nuance and was disappointed in the naive protagonist. If you know the names Cassandra Clare or The Mortal Instruments, some or all of this may mean much more to you.

Worlds of Aspen 2012 (Aspen) — The lead feature, Homecoming, is about a teenage boy whose life changes when a naked space blonde appears in his shower, aliens smash up his school, and his best friends receive super-powers that leave them deformed but happy. He’s the perfect Mary Sue for the book’s intended audience. Also enclosed are promo pinups of breasts and characters from other series, as well as a preview of a genuinely promising new series called Idolized with surprising emotional heft to its superhero-reality-show premise. Despite the decompressed storytelling, it may be worth monitoring.

The New 52 #1 (DC Comics) — A vivid sampler of appealing, professional artwork from several upcoming titles. Then I went back and read all the word balloons, and now I’m bewildered, lost, and not the least bit curious about what happens in any of them except China Mieville’s Dial H, the first issue of which I already picked up last Wednesday. The thrust of the book seems to be heroes pounding on heroes, not terribly dissimilar from Marvel’s own Avengers vs. X-Men crossover event of 2012, which I’m equally not reading. If you like Justice League pinups in which they attack each other instead of any bad guys, here some are. Personally, I lament a comic universe where every hero’s Rogues Gallery is simply a list of all the other heroes.

Intrinsic #1 (Arcana Comics) — Chapter one of the company’s major summer crossover event that will feature prominently in over two dozen different Arcana series, costar potentially hundreds of Arcana characters past and present, and change many an Arcana life forever. And I don’t recognize a single one of them, except possibly one series called Scrooge and Santa that may or may not be what its name implies. This reminds me of the comics I created in junior high that starred lots of my own super-creations, who had adventures cloned from my favorite comics. Each of my many characters meant something to me, but it’s hard to imagine anyone outside my own head appreciating them, their crude artwork, or their derivative nature.

Zombie Kid (Antarctic Press) — A send-up of Diary of A Wimpy Kid whose title tells you everything else you need to know. All the jokes should write themselves. Alas, if only they had, perhaps I might have finished reading this.

Select highlights from the companies whose offerings I failed to pick up:

Marvel’s selections. I procrastinated them at our first two stops, then forgot all about them at the third stop, which was nearly out of everything and put on their game face by restocking their freebie table with leftovers from previous FCBDs. If anyone needs a copy of 2010’s Shrek FCBD comic, I know a place that will hook you up.

The Valiant relaunch. I assumed (wrongly? No idea) that the contents were identical to the Valiant 2012 Sampler that I previously picked up from their C2E2 booth. X-O Manowar writer Robert Venditti cheerfully autographed my copy before I could figure out who he was.

The free Mouse Guard hardcover. How was I supposed to know that all those stacks of 48-page hardcovers were free? Seriously, though? Who gives away hardcovers? They can’t possibly be generous and shrewd, so I can only assume they’re mad.

Barnaby and Mr. O’Malley. I’d normally brake for Crockett Johnson (better known to normal folks as creator of the original, delightful Harold and the Purple Crayon books), especially under the Fantagraphics name, but I shamed myself by somehow not grabbing this at my first stop. Sure enough, the other two stores hadn’t bothered to order it. My loss.

Barry Sonnenfeld’s Dinosaurs vs. Aliens Written by Grant Morrison. Um. Er. I see. For now, pass.

My 2012 Season Finale Predictions, 100% Accurate on Some Alternate Earth

Another springtime tradition draws near as my regular TV shows each race toward their season finales. I never know how any given show will end, but it’s fun to pretend I do. Here, then, are my incorrect predictions for what’s in store for me over the next month. If any of these are remotely accurate, I’d be grateful if someone in charge would PayPal me a fraction of the ad revenues.

Community: Chang becomes the dean of the all-new all-different (read: even more destabilized) Greendale College. A shattered ex-Dean Pelton seeks a new degree and joins the study group. Troy and Britta still don’t hook up, but we discover a good reason why. The climax will be the destruction of the air conditioning annex in some sort of wormhole-based implosion that fits whatever the episode’s satirical target is. R.I.P. John Goodman’s character for arc-closure purposes, along with Pierce Hawthorne in some hideous yet hilarious manner that Dan Harmon will reveal to Chevy Chase after the episode airs, in the form of a TwitPic of his pink slip.

The Office: James Spader’s imminent departure was previously announced. Mindy Kaling’s Fox deal is reportedly reaching fruition. A spinoff is allegedly being constructed for Rainn Wilson. Other exits aren’t unlikely if the show is renewed. All signs point toward one inevitability: a natural disaster wipes out Dunder Mifflin’s Scranton branch, taking out half the cast. Those left standing at the end — Andy, Erin, David Wallace, Kevin, Oscar, Creed, Cathy the annoying temp, Nate from the warehouse, and a hastily rehired Todd Packer — relocate for season 9 to the scenic Utica branch, where hilarity can hopefully ensue after they pick up the pieces. If for some reason Parks & Recreation isn’t renewed, Rashida Jones returns as their new boss, Karen.

Parks & Recreation: Leslie loses the election because moving her out of the department would compromise the show’s basic premise. Somehow her loss is all Jerry’s fault, but the team holds their pre-planned victory party anyway with a little help from Donna’s cousin Ginuwine. Meanwhile, Tom fails one last time to win Anne’s heart, which is fine by me. The final scene in four words: either “Ben proposes to Leslie” or “Chris has a coronary.”

Mad Men: Reply hazy; try again later. It doesn’t help that I’m currently two episodes behind.

Once Upon a Time: In the final flashback, the dwarfs and fairies locate Charming, free him, and escort him to the comatose Snow to snap her out of it in the usual fashion. As they reunite and make wedding plans, elsewhere a rebuked Evil Queen pulls the trigger on the whole “Curse” plan…which, of course, comes with a price.

Meanwhile in the present-day real world, Henry’s stunt finally convinces Emma to believe, and I finally lose the urge to throw things at my TV. When she attempts to leave town forever for her seventh or eighth time — this time with Mary Margaret, David, and still-comatose Henry all along for the ride — she pushes her li’l jalopy so hard that the engine explodes. Everyone else is scraped and bruised, but the impact leaves Emma dead…for one whole minute. In homage to the Buffy season 1 finale, momentary clinical death is good enough to fulfill the terms and conditions for breaking the curse, leading up to a final scene of everyone remembering everything, capped with a tearful reunion between Grumpy and Amy Acker.

In the long term, Season 2 has everyone coming to terms with life in the real world despite knowing what they know and who they were. In Season 3, Our Heroes — now teamed up with a remorseful Regina, who’s at long last aware that all her problems were entirely her super-evil mom’s fault — finally find a way back to the Fairytale World, which in their absence has become a smoking crater ruled by some new evil dictator. My vote is for Jafar.

The Simpsons: Absolutely nothing of consequence occurs, except maybe another great couch gag by outside artists. My vote is for Studio Ghibli.

This list fails to include the several shows I abandoned this season. I assume their finales will also involve wormhole implosions, or cameos by Charlie Sheen. Good luck with those.

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

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?

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)

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

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

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

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!