Going Public

Tomorrow is the day – read comic in public day, that is. I mentioned it a few days ago. Tomorrow is the day. A pile of comics, a park bench, or maybe one in the mall. Something like that. I need to find a place that I can get my read on with the kids in tow, so it may not be a major showing…but it will be a showing. No life-sized card board cut-outs, sexy costumes or Batmobile rides

Maybe in the Mall Food Court.

My 8 year old can read a comic to my 5 year old. Maybe Super Hero Squad or a Marvel Adventures Super Hero issue. I have a couple of Spider-Mans and one with Dr. Strange teaming up with Spidey. I’ve also got a print out of Brave and the Bold from the DC Comics kids site.

Carol will probably read Fables or Madame Xanadu. That’s right, I’ve done it. I’ve succeeded in getting her interest in the comic medium duly sparked. Maybe she’d even like that first issue of The Goon Dark Horse just reprinted.

As for me, I’ll have to keep it real with some GI Joe, one of my favorite all time titles. What else? Definitely Green Hornet – probably one of the mini-series from Now Comics in the 90s. What else? I suppose I should go all out and represent with some super-hero stuff. Hmmmm. Maybe a Wolverine one-shot? Or maybe I’ll re-read the first few issues of Birds of Prey. Maybe I’ll even get that one on Carol’s short list. It is really one of the best super hero titles I’ve ever read. Up there with X-Factor. Great stuff.

New Old Habits

I have recently rediscovered a past addiction. For a period of two or three years in my young teen years, I became an avid comic collector. I started with a single title, but when a small video store in the next town started selling comics (the owner being a total comic addict himself) I began making weekly visits.

A year or so after I discovered this little haven, the shop closed down. A few weeks later, the video part reopened under new ownership, but the comic racks were gone. Apparently, the comic-loving owner was so into Marvel and DC that he kept two copies of everything he sold. And pretty soon, he was deep in the red. Oh well.

Now, I certainly didn’t stop reading comics. In fact, I maintained my love of comics over the years since, but I mostly stopped reading monthly mags and switched to trade paperbacks and graphic novels. Sometimes these were standalone storied outside of the normal continuity of a particular title, but other time a book like this would simply collect a series of comics in single place, covering a particular story arc.

Recently, though, I have been picking up comics here and there. Mostly old ones at flea markets (old now meaning 80s era – the time period I used to collect) but I’ve also grabbed some newer stuff. And lately I’ve grabbed a couple of cheap ebay lots. Some ebayers will sell books for a fraction of their potential value if you are willing to grab a boxful. Since I am just getting back into collecting, this is a great way to go for me. It gives me a chance to read a couple of issues of a particular title and see if it is something for me. I can either go to a back issue dealer and try to fill in the blanks, or I can, when I am ready, put together some mixed lots of my own and get the comics back out there for someone else to start, or round out, their collection.

Comics have a lot of detractors, but I, for one, am a big fan. In fact, I am so much of a fan that I am happy to see my oldest kid starting to read them. He can still read a novel, about 3 grade levels beyond his age in fact, so if he wants to pick up a comic once in while, that’s cool with me.

I’ve known people who say that comics are a sort of anti-literature because the art keeps you from developing a mental picture. That might be a valid argument if comics were novels, but they’re not. It is a wholly different medium. If a great film can be a great film, in spite of its plain reliance on visual storytelling, a comic, or any sort of story told in a comic format is equally valid. If you disagree, open your mind to The Watchmen, Maus, or even American Splendour. Don’t kid yourself, these are tremendous bits of narrative. They are unique and powerful. At times, even profound. and they do not rely on violence or gratuitous profanity to “shock and awe” their readers. Instead, they use compelling imagery, both as depicted in the art, and in the poetry of the storytelling.

Seriously.

Fences

Some people say good fences make good neighbors. Others believe that kindness and open communication is best. I’ve met some people with a quiver and a half full of little apostles who still don’t know the first thing about ‘do unto others…’

These days we all sit anywhere we want on the bus, regardless of age, race, religion, or gender. At least in theory, because everyone knows cool kids sit in the back. And the water fountains are for all, and the park benches are for all…be they protected historical benches or modern benches, or fallen trees losing their bark.

Or maybe just the stump.

Listen.

Be sweet. Be sweet. Be sweet. Baby, please be sweet.

Redesign

I was in the shower the other morning and had a thought. No, this is not another plea for better weight loss programs. It was while I was shaving a small spot on my bicep so I can share in the whole temporary tattoo thing with the kids. Unfortunately, it is the only place on my body, other than the back of my hand, that I can put one.

So I contemplated this form, this hairy, hairy form. This body that looks like the jacket photos of Kiss band members on the Crazy Nights record, back when man-fuzz was big. And as I thought about it, I realized that you would have to be a total imbecile not to see a direct evolutionary connection between chimp and man. Seriously, I’m like a poster boy for Darwin’s big theory.

And seriously, there is nothing about this design that anyone with half a brain could label as intelligent.

Thinning

Since my most recent post may make me sound like a real bald-hater I should point out that I, too, am somewhat follicle-challenged. I mean, I’ve always had a high hairline, even when I had hair down to my butt. And now I’ve discovered something else. After an ill-fated attempt to grow my hair out a year or so ago, I found that I have a thin patch in the Friar Tuck region. Damn. Goodbye rock star locks and hello Deadhead pony knob. Well, I think not. Back to corporate short, I guess.

So, I have hair issues too, so I’m not really picking on bald men. I’m picking on vain nimrods who blow all sorts of cash on hairpieces and Hummers to try to impress 18 year old girls. And who wants to impress 18 year olds anyway? I mean, I remember a time when 18 year olds were slim and sassy, and even the dimmest bulbs were fun to talk to. But now, it seems that wherever you look, two out of three teens are chunked up. Seriously, when I look better in a halter top than half the high school girls out there…this is why pay per view porn is such a big business.

The thing about baldness that gets to me, though, is the handful of areas that are not afflicted. For example – ears. I am pretty safe in this region. I have an occasional sprouting of fuzz on an earlobe that needs plucking, but it’s not too bad. My nose gets a routine plucking too, but mostly for what seems to be a handful of persistent hairs that corkscrew out.

I won’t even go into my back…but if they start doing effective back-to-Tuck hair transplants, my pate will be well-sheathed in coarse black wiry fuzz. and I used to pluck between my brows every once in a while, but it’s been years since I needed to. Weird. I never approached a mono-brow or anything. I just used to have a few stray hairs that would show up once in a while. But no more. Do you go bald on your brow line too?

But this brings me to my last area of hair-tastrophe. I have this one hair that appears in the middle of my left eyebrow every few months. While the bulk of my brow remains chill and trim, this one hair grows to the beat of its own drum. For real. It twists and turns for weeks before I notice it (contrary to what this post might suggest, I don’t actually spend too much time looking in the mirror…I mean, I do love rooms with tile flooring and all, but I’m not that bad). when I notice the mega-hair, I grab the tweezers and usually pluck something that approaches an inch in length. What is that all about? What is this one rogue hair doing? Why can’t we clone that little bugger and sell him to the vain, bald, Hummer driving, chunky-loving male masses? We could make a mint!

Demanification

Interesting article in Popular Science recently – it would seem that the bass population is feminizing. That would be bass rhyming with ass, you know the fish. Not bass rhyming with ace, as in four-string lowenders. They’re always hopelessly masculine. Even the chicks.

The article and so-called science blame pollution for this problem…and it is a problem. Not only is the bass porn industry suffering from a sharp decline in customers, but this could ultimately lead to a decreased bass population because the male fish are turning female. They are actually turning female. Their little fish sacks (or whatever) are becoming useless and they are beginning to produce infertile eggs. Supposedly some species of fish do this naturally (probably those commie fish swimming around Chernobyl) but not bass. Not bass.

Before you start thinking I’m somehow homophobic – which would be stupid because these are not gay fish, they are more like…what? Transgender? But seriously, I have always been well in touch with my feminine side – so much so that half my family thought I was gay during part of the 90s. No lie. I was actually encouraged to move in with an ex-girlfriend because they were uncomfortable with my male roommate. I explained that we were both quite straight but you would have thought we were on a water polo team or something the way they fretted. So yes, I could pretty much franchise the whole sensitive new age guy thing circa 1996.

But these science geeks have the bass thing all wrong. It’s not pollution that’s weirding up these fish. No way. It’s the fashion industry. Yup, you read that correctly. I believe the blame sits squarely with the fashion industry.

Seriously. Check out the clothes available for winter. Puffer vests and coats. PUFFER VESTS. Do you really know any self-respecting dude who would go out in public wearing a puffer vest? Christ, puffer is what my kids call flatulence.

“Daddy, I made a puffer, tee-hee.”
“I know son, it’s making my incredibly gay vest so balloon-y.” 

I saw something in a circular (and yes, gentle reader, the guy who admits to reading sales circulars from department stores has the nerve to call someone else gay) this morning – a faux shearling microsuede coat, available in these colors: taupe or sunset.

Somewhere, Lee Marvin makes a puffer after pulling a 12 pound bass from a river of toxic runoff. Charles Bronson puts a firm hand on his shoulder and says, “Nice work sweet cheeks, now let me clean that little she-meal for you.”

Shhhh…Don’t Tell

Ok, you better be able to keep a secret. Carol’s birthday is fast approaching and I’m in the gifts for her shopping mindset. It’s not like it’s a substantial birthday or anything. She’ll be, like, 30-something. No biggie.

Of course, I like to think I am a good provider and that my gift selections are not mediocre. I’m a giver. I like to…give. It’s just a thing, I give, no big whoop. Deal with it.

That sounded really funny in my head, the little vocal accent I gave it, but I’m thinking on the screen it looks kind of douche-y. Sorry. I didn’t get much sleep last night.

Anyway, don’t tell her, but I’m on the lookout for something swank yet charming yet indicative of lifelong affection.

And cheap.

Yeah, cheap.

Ideas?

Joy by the Flashing Lights

Ah, to revel in the downfall of others…what a joy. And when that person is a real douche, seeing them go down is just plain righteous. I know they say revenge is a dish best served cold, but gloating over the misfortune of a jerk…it has to be tastiest when it is toasty enough to burn the roof of your mouth.

Why the celebration you ask? I was driving home from errands earlier and witnessed a particularly inventive bit of really dangerous bad driving. And I think it resonates so much with me because this is far form the first time I have witnessed it.

See, there’s a point in this one lane highway (speed limit 50) where another road intersects via an underpass. So the junction is accomplished with an on ramp. See, drivers can come off the other road and make almost a full circle to come onto an on ramp on the road in question, the road I was on. From my perspective, there is a right lane that appears for about 100 yards or so. Once in a while, someone merges onto the road I was on (a road I drive very frequently) by entering from the right lane. Traffic is not that bad and it’s usually an easy merge to juggle.

Now very occasionally you get someone who is so self-centered, so obnoxious, so reckless, or maybe just really late for their colon cleanse, and they decide that the person in front of them is going too slow. When they come to this stretch of right lane merge, they choose to slide into that merge lane and use it as a passing lane (a passing on the right lane, in fact) and speed past the person they are following. This will only work if there is noone actually using the merge lane as an entrance lane to merge from, of course.

Today, not for the first time, the driver directly in front of me chose to pull the mega reckless douche move and pass on the right when we got to the merge. It seemed to be a pretty unnecessary act of aggression because the car s/he wished to pass was going at least 55. Once in a while we get old-timers or out of state drivers doing 35 and it is frustrating. Of course, in the defense of the elderly, infirm, and weary (or should it be wary) travellers, the road has very little speed signage.

As I said, though, this was not the case. This guy was just being a jerk. But guess what…as s/he made the move, there was actually a cop on the other side of the road. And though I was about to make a disparaging remark about the cops never doing anything, I was stunned to guilty silence when the cop actually yoinked into a driveway, did a fast U-turn and came back after the guy.

This driver was so busted that s/he actually pulled over before the cop even got fully turned around with his lights flashing. It was awesome. You ever watch a guy blow by doing like 90 in a 45 and then half a mile later there’s a cop on the side of the road and you wonder what the hell they’re doing and why they missed the speeder? You know how you have that desire to see the jerk pulled over? Do you, like me, fantasize about honking and waving as you drive by and that jerk is in full shame, pulled over, maybe even getting cuffed against the hood?

This was sort of a fulfillment of the dream. So righteous.

Steering Wheel Mounted Response System

That’s right, I want a steering wheel mounted response system. I have been thinking about it for years, and auto accessories have come a long way. Satellite radio, lo-jack, entertainment systems, GPS, and myriad other bells and whistles are available on today’s new automobiles. Why can’t we have a steering wheel mounted response system.

Oh, what is a steering wheel mounted response system you ask? Simple. In place of your standard horn, you would have a keypad installed that features a selections of words that could easily be combined to form simple sentences. And while a whole load of expletives would be funny, it would surely not work.

In fact, believe it or not, I originally thought of this as a way to apologize to other drivers when you make a mistake. I complain about other drivers making all kinds of intentional obnoxious moves to better their traffic position by a car length or two, but once in a while I get myself into a situation where I’ve driven up in line only to discover I’m in a turn only lane…and I don’t want to turn. So I end up cutting into the correct line of traffic having inadvertently cut way ahead of lots of drivers who were doing the right thing. It may appear that I’ve done this on purpose when in fact it was an accident, but what can I do or say to apologize to my fellow motorists?

But if I had a steering wheel mounted response system I could simply press the “sorry” button on my keypad and a non-gender specific, non-race specific, non-threatening voice could chime out from the inner workings of my vehicle. Instead of a beep beep or honk honk, a simple kind word to let the other drivers know that I made a mistake and appreciate their understanding.

…and what a happier world this could be…

Time Flies

Oh man. Jake’s going to be 7 in a couple days. And then Noah turns 4. What happened? It seems like we were just sending baby announcements, and now they’re getting to be…big. Well, actually, we really were just sending announcements, but that was a different baby. You know what I mean.

In the last couple of weeks we’ve been watching the old, original GI Joe cartoons from the 80s. And I’ve been reading the old comic books which were actually pretty good. I even dug out my old action figured that spent twentysomething years in Grandma’s closet and my boys have been keeping the world safe from Cobra ever since.

I remember one time when Jake was an infant, we were walking through a Toys r Us. I was just pushing the stroller around, killing time. As I went past the action figured, there was a guy there looking at Spider-Man figures or something like that. He had a little pink bundled baby asleep in a stroller. As I passed and gave the nod, he groaned.

“Oh man,” he said quietly but with genuine angst, “I wish I had a boy.”

I felt a little sorry for him. Not because he wasn’t going to buy a bunch of toys for his kid and then play with them himself, but because he was setting himself to miss out on all the fun and learning you can have raising a little girl. Now, contrary to what both my wife and her brother say, Barbie sucks. But there are plenty of little girl toys that don’t suck. Don’t let all the pink fool you, there’s a lot of fun and creativity in the “girl” aisle. Hey, some girls even like transformers! And my little girl is probably going to like GI Joe figures. At least a little.

And she’ll tolerate Barbies because she knows her mother loves them and her uncle has a borderline unhealthy fascination with them, but we all know the truth about Barbies.

But I digress. The freaky things is that Jake is getting big. He’s almost as tall as my mother – which for those of you who know her is not saying much, but still…it’s a milestone when you surpass your Grandma’s height, isn’t it? As he grows, though, I find that he enjoys the same kinds of things I always enjoyed and Noah, though a few years younger, is keeping up.

So I am cutting that Toys r Us dude some slack. Yeah, I think he was missing the boat a little by regretting the  gender of his first born in the toy aisle, but I kind of appreciate his point. It really is pretty cool to lay down on the bedroom carpet with a couple of action figures and create stories that inevitably result in all the bad guys turning into good guys so they can all go to a big party together. Nations of the world are you listening?