Censorship is Alive and Well in Georgia...

Okay, I know I wasn't going to talk about comics for awhile but a) I can't help myself and b) these two bits are more in the line of relevant current events that happen to be set on a background of the comics world. I've provided a couple of links that should flesh things out nicely....please visit these sites.

Comic-Book Store Owner on Trial for Nude Images

...is the first story (click this link to get the full story http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=12768951) . Here's the basic jist: comic book store owner in Georgia three years ago tries to be part of the community and rather than giving out candy on Halloween, gives out comics. One of the kids, aged nine, with little brother, aged six, in tow grabs a comic anthology. Couple of days later the owner of the shop is arrested for peddling obscene materials to minors. Mr. Lee, the owner of the shop has had this lawsuit hanging over his head for the past three years and finally goes to court this week. If convicted of wilfully giving this material to the two boys, Mr. Lee faces up to a year in prison and a $1000.00 fine.

I really don't what to say here except that maybe Mr. Lee should apologize and the parents of the two kids should accept the apology and we should all move on. From what I've read on the case, there was no willful intent to expose the boys to "harmful" material (oh come on...most of what they're watching on TV is way worse than anything they'll see in a comic anyhow). The real potential for damage here the possibility that comics could once again be plunged into the "obscene" category and make this ripe for a whole new generation of comics-censoring (see Comics Code Authority in wikipedia for more on this. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Comics_Code_Authority ).

Idiots

...ever been to Florida? Georgia? Alabama? Any other state that has tropical-type swamps, rivers and ponds and, therefore, alligators and crocodiles and all manner of other horrible, creeping monster? Well, maybe yes and maybe no, but regardless, you should be able to understand how stupid this guy is...not too long ago, I heard a news story involving a golf vacationer in Florida. Now, about halfway through his game, this bozo shanks his shot into the rough, which, in the Sunshine State, equals Mulligan, because really, who the Hell is really going to chase in after a $3.00 ball with all manner of man-killing things lurking about? All common sense aside, the signs posted all over the course stating "STAY THE HELL OUT!" and "HORRIBLE HUNGRY BITEY BASTARDS ONLY BEYOND THIS POINT!" should have been a clue. But NO!...the result of several billion years of human evolution on this planet strolled right past these signs, waded right in, pulled a Happy Gilmore after his ball and....do I really need to spell it out? He came up WITH the ball and WITHOUT his extra hand. The croc that got him apparently tried to pull him under to drown him for later, but the guys' buddies managed to wrest him from the jaws of certain death...and a HUGE favor to the quality of the gene pool in the direct vicinity of this mental bastard.

Now...a rational person might think to oneself "Self? This retard probably shouldn't be allowed to live as he is clearly the genetic equivalent of piss in a newly cleaned pool and should thank his lucky stars that he's alive at all, get down on his knees and pray, throw a few hunnert bucks at his church of choice and get on with his life in a humble and responsible fashion--lesson learned" and that person would, in my humble opinion, be absolutely, 100% correct. However this walking mental turd is invoking the State of Florida's law against animals biting humans and the poor croc who, by the way, was simply acting as nature hardwired him to is slated to be destroyed (I ask you, faithful reader: how would you feel if the Hot Dog Man stuck his finger in the roll and then had you sent to the chair for biting him?). AND! If you can believe THIS shit...he's suing the resort for not doing enough to protect him from the local wildlife!

...if we lived in a fair and just world, the fair people of Florida would be within their rights, as far as I'm concerned, to form a massive fucking posse, hunt this prick down, cover him in human-flavored jelly and throw his sorry ass back into the swamp for the croc to finish the job. And pin a giant fucking medal on that croc when he's done, for doing all the rest of us a giant fucking favor!

F@&* Barry Bonds

Allright...so it's been a little while since the last time I posted something for you all to read. Sorry. I know there's only three of you out there anyhow.

So to placate all the dissenters calling for something other than comics here we go...

Now first off, I want to preface this for all my friends, to whom I am generally regardedm as sports-stupid, and just say this: pay attention. For everyone else, I want to say this: Fuck Barry Bonds. No. Really. I'm now going to try to put this into more developed and coherent language but really, that's it: Fuck Barry Bonds and all those of his ilk.

Since you asked...here's my problem with Barry Bonds. Barry Bonds is still carrying on as if breaking Hank Aaron's record actually means anything anymore. And, apparently, it does. To all the fans and media and naysayers and prosayers and the lawmakers and the record keepers and the number crunchers and everyone else who's involved in this, fuck you too. Barry Bonds's pending smash of Hank Aaron's career home run record is crap. Here's my question: why are we still paying attention to this guy and why is noone talking about the fact that he used steroids to do what he, presumably, is about to do? And why is noone talking about this in terms of "well even if he does break the record, he'll still have an asterisk next to his name"?

And if noone is asking those questions, why do we, the people who pay money to see this scumbag play ball and turn him into some sort of hero for our kids who play ball, continue to give a crap about whether anyone in pro sports cheats or not? Because that's what this boils down to. You can't have it both ways. Either you mean what you say, practice what you say and punish this guy for cheating and polluting the sport which, in America today seems tantamount to religion, or you say what you say to look like you care about the right thing and then go on edifying the people you publicly decry.

That's what we've done with Barry Bonds and all the rest. We have set the rules: no performance-enhancing drugs of any kind. Presumably to preserve the notion that the Gods that now occupy our consciousness (i.e. the sports stars) in fact represent the pinnacle of human performance. We have sent the message: be the best, just so long as you are pure and these are the rules for being the best. And yet, when one of the Chosen is discovered to have disregarded those rules, we allow them to continue to play with minimal punishment. We have now sent a new message: forget the rules, what really matters is being the best, no matter what.

Now there are some that would disagree with me and say that Mr. Bonds is only human and is entitled to a mistake once in a while. And to a certain extent, I would agree. However, when you or I make a mistake, there are consequences. I don't see consequences of any substance here. I certainly don't see any regret. And I definitely see Mr. Bonds continuing as if nothing happened. In fact, it seems to me, he is being rewarded for his actions, as he is still regarded as the peak of hitting pefection, no matter what he did to acheive that.

Again, Mr. Bonds is not entirely to blame. I rest much of that blame on the shoulders of his fans that continue to support him, the sports media who continue to idolize him for their ratings and the team that continues to alolow him to play. My feeling, and I am sure I am in the minority here, is they should have taken this guy and all of his steroid taking friends and thrown them the hell out of baseball FOREVER and made them all work for a living.

I have no symapthy for this kind of stuff, in case you hadn't already figured that out. Everytime I see Bonds on television being commended for another home run or talking about when he is going to break the record, it makes me sick. Everytime I think of how criminally overpaid these guys are despite having broken the law, the ethics codes of their organizations and the hearts of millions of kids, I want to puke. The bottom line here, for me, is this: I think the only thing, in my mind, that would redeem Barry Bonds as a person, would be for him to retire prior to breaking the record. Or, at the very least, make a public acknowledgement that he recognizes that his acheivement is marred by his poor judgement.

But that's just me...

Six Months In

So the soccer endeavour is now six months in and the smoking thing is two & a half months out and the skills are starting to slowly improve. This session will mark a two games per week schedule, with games nights back to back on Wednesday and Thursdays. The rather interesting side effect here is that I have become obsessed. My beautiful wife and I watch FSC incessantly and we are considering discarding other, more important pieces of furniture in favor of a professional-grade foosball table. Of course, it doesn't hurt that it is a very exciting time to be watching futbol right now. Between the FA Cup finals, European Cup trials, Premiership regulation, Serie A and Mexican leagues all going, we almost forgot about the beginning of the MLS season and the debut of Beckham on American soil. Almost too much to watch!

Please Comment!!!

So I'm sitting here, working rather fruitlessly on a cover letter for a teaching position I'm applying for on Friday and needed a break. So I decided to check on the site to see if my father had been by to heckle me from the Comments Section and feel somewhat forlorn due to the lack of attention paid to my Comments Section.

And then my beautiful wife tells me that one of her friends checks the site but refuses to post comments until I write something about something other than comics as she claims she doesn't know anything about comics. So first off, point taken, James. I will write more about other topics.

However, and this goes for everyone who stops by for a spell,please comment, regardless of whether you think you know something about the subject matter or not. I beg you to do this for a couple of reasons: 1) it lets me know you're there and that someone is reading, 2) I value your feedback, good, bad or indifferent, 3) if you ask me a question I will answer it to the best of my ability and this may in fact contribute to or at least inform future entries and 4) it gives me a break from my father heckling me from the sidelines if someone else is doing it for a while.

The bottom line here is that a big part of the reason I created this blog was to get something "out there" and hopefully to get some feedback on my writing. This was started as an exercise and any feedback you can give helps me out enormously (yes, Dad, even the jabs about trying to get published).

But, at the end of the day, our friend is right as I had intended to post here on a variety of subjects and will try to mix it up a little for your reading and viewing pleasure.

Til next time...um...make mine Marvel...?

Required Reading: Invincible

Okay. I hadn't intended to ever talk about a superhero book here. Really. But I was at my friendly neighborhood comic store the other day and picked up a bunch of back issues of this book. And I have to say, it deserves mention. Bearing the byline "probably the best superhero comic book in the universe!" Invincible is certainly one of the best out there.

I started reading this book back when it first hit the shelves because of the art. Period. I like the stylized, clean lines, the primary colors, the fresh approach to the character's costume designs, the dynamic page layout. And then I started reading.

This is classic comic-book stuff. This is so classic, you already know the story. Young kid finds out he's in fact the bearer of great power. The moral struggle not to be tempted or corrupted by that power. All the secret identity gags. The monsters and robots and aliens and mad scientists bent on world domination or destruction (take your pick). The tangled love interest or interests. The nursery of supporting superheroes all waiting in the wings for their big chance. The drama between the hero and his non-super-hero-ing friends. I mean, all of it. And it's fucking GREAT!

Created by Robert Kirkman and Cory Walker and published by Image Comics, this book is definitely an illustration of the importance of craft. Taking on so many over-used and stale conventions of a spun-out genre and bringing new life and importance to that same genre, without coming across as spoof or copy-cat takes an immeasurable amount of skill. To make it relevant to both readers inside and outside the genre is just plain awesome. And that's precisely what Kirkman and Walker, and now Ryan Ottley having taken over permanently on pencils, have done here.

Whereas I wouldn't call it "the best...in the universe", I would rank it up there as one of the best superhero comics out there right now for a couple of reasons. First, and probably foremost, this book takes what made the superhero genre the mainstay of comics (that is to say everything good about them) and crams it all into one, slick, shiny, easy to swallow, great-tasting monthly pill. Invincible tackles all (and I do mean all...) the conventions of the superhero comic and not only doesn't get bogged down in them, it brings them new life and reminds us why we read them in the first place!

The character Invincible has powers reminiscent of Superman, personality close to Spiderman, and friends that would at turns feel at home in the pages of the X-Men, the Avengers, the Justice League of America, the Teen Titans or the Superfriends. The books' pacing and action and humor and, most importantly, humanity is reminicient of Jack Kirby and Will Eisner and Stan Lee and all the other legendary creators that made this medium worthwhile in the first place. Kirkman has managed to infuse his writing with a reality and three dimensional quality that seems lacking in many modern "realistic" books that confuse graphic violonce and overall moroseness with actual feeling. And the book gives us all this in a post-postmodern package that is hip and un-embarassing.

While Invincible may take everything good about superhero comics and mold it together, it also strips away much of the bad. For instance, there is no uncontrollable spin-off of titles. One of the things that makes mainstream comics so inane and inaccessible is that you need a frigging TomTom to navigate a given title. I mean how many X-titles and Bat-books can you really have? When I pick up a comic, I don't want to get half-way through and be told that in order to get the full story, I have to go back to the store and hunt down six other issues of six other titles. It's bullshit. Plain and simple. And it pisses people off. If I were new to this medium and I encountered that, I can tell you one thing: I would not only not buy the other six issues, I would never go back. Invincible is one title, one story and though many characters from other titles show up in its pages, it seems usually to be only for a short while to say "hi" and move on.

One of the reasons I stopped reading this back when and have now had to go back and catch up on what's been going on is that early on there were problems (to put it mildly) in getting issues to print. Although billed as a monthly book, I was finding myself waiting for the next issue for months at a time (another thing that would prevent me from ever picking up another comic book if I were a newbie and that I now just accept as part of the business). Thankfully, these timing issues seem to be largely a thing of the past and the back issues are blissfully packaged for you in trades (all named after sitcom titles, interestingly) and can be found at your local comic store http://www.comicbookresources.com/resources/locator/ as found with this trusty little tool.

In summation: for the unitiated among you, especially those of you who just don't get why a thirty-year old will still shell out hard-earned moolah for a flimsy, overpriced pamphlet of pictures about spandex-wearing fantasy-beings, check this out. This book is a reminder of how it once was and why comics, specifically superhero comics, are still around today. For those of you who still shell out that hard earned and know why, check it out, if you haven't already. You'll be surprised to remember just how good a superhero comic can be. I was.

Required Reading: 300

Please, please please please please. Read this book. The reason I'm pleading with you in so undignified a manner: I saw this movie this past week. What's worse, I took my wife to see this movie this past week. And I have to refer to earlier statements I and others have made. Namely: we, as a community and industry are alienating anyone that at one time may have given this medium a chance.

Look. I listed this graphic novel as one of my favorite books in my profile. I bought and read and sung this book's praises when it was first released in May 1998. I have three copies of all the original issues; one copy for myself, one to lend out and one just in case. And I have the hard cover. Frank Miller and his work has been one of the primary reasons I continue to read comics and among his work, I rank this peice at the top. Needless to say, I'm a fan. In other words, I'm less than objective here.

300 (Fank Miller / Lynn Varley; Dark Horse Comics, 1999, $30.00; http://www.darkhorse.com/profile/profile.php?sku=48-339) is a graphic re-telling of the Battle of Thermopylae, focussed on King Leonidas and the 300 Spartan warriors that set out to stop the Persian hordes of Xerxes the Great at the Hot Gates. Upon its release, 300 received Eisner Awards for Best Limited Series, Best Writer/Artist and Best Colorist in 1999. The series continued Miller's stark and unique vision that he established most fully in his Sin City series while bringing a new dynamic to comics in the well-researched historical drama of ancient Greece.

The themes of this book, though seemingly macho and mundane, are appropriate for the given subject matter and it is widely seen as well-researched and overall historically accurate in its telling. It is at turns, engaging, intriuging and suspenseful, violent and heroic and overall remarkable. Miller and Varley both, in an attempt to get it that much closer to right, travelled to Greece to flesh out the research they'd already done, visit the sites, gain an appreciation for the land and speak to the people. ...all in the name of getting it right. Of making sure that the story did justice to the notions of heroic sacrifice and moral victory that are embodied here.

And the movie took an amazing peice of work, a jewel of the industry, and shat upon it. I don't actually know what Mr. Miller's thoughts are on this movie, though I assume he had a pretty big part in the making of it, given his involvement in Sin City. I can't imagine that the folks responsible for this film intetionally cocked it up. And there are quite a few redeeming qualities. The photography is amazing. I think it works much better in color than in the black-and-white of Sin City. The acting, for the most part was worthwhile, though in places a bit melodramatic. And, to be fair, they did a better than average job translating it to film.

So what, then, is the problem? you ask? It is this: in the editing room and production room decisions that were made on this project, the point was almost completely passed over in favor of a violent fantasy movie rather than the complex and fascinating historical narrative that was the book. I saw gratuity take the place of complexity and subtlety (I'm thinking here of the splashing blood shots and the treatment of the Oracle at the temple). Embellishment in places where there was none needed (the monstrous masks and visages of the Persian elite). And a quick treatment of the main themes of the book in the trite delivery of several of the more important lines seemed more filler as opposed to the actual substance.

So, my recommendation is this: please please please please please read this book. Do yourself a favor and pick up one of Frank Miller's best works and what I see as a pretty big argument to continue reading comics, and forget there's even a movie by the same name out there. Besides, I'm sure it will be a mainstay of SpikeTV within a year anyhow...

Required Reading

So. It's been awhile again and I have no excuse. We'll leave it at that...

Recently I've been bouncing a product idea around in regards to the way the comics industry operates and supposedly attracts new readers. It seems to me that the big ones, the major publishers (DC and Marvel, if you're reading this from outside the comics world)are very concerned with the sales of their various superhero comics and trying to rehash the same old story lines from the same old characters and leaving the books themselves overall stale, contrite and used. Then they option the rights for a cut-rate movie that panders to the fan-base and pretends to be accessible to a wider audience and fails in both attempts.

Many of you who have grown up reading comics and whose tastes have matured as you've grown older and those of you who are trying to check out what's going on in comics 'cause there was a review in the Washington Post know what I'm talking about here: you walk into a comics shop where you're accosted by all 31 flavors of superheroes in primary color spandex fighting stereotyped villians with cheesy dialogue. If you're lucky, you manage to pick up a somewhat literary and tongue-in-cheek strip down of the superhero genre. But if you're not paying attention or don't know where to look or are afraid to ask the self-righteous prat behind the counter (beg pardon of all those comics store clerks who sagely and generously guided me toward the "good stuff" in my graphic storytelling education; there are a lot of you out there), chances are you'll completely miss all the amazing work out there that speaks to something other than sheer escapism and melodrama because it's all in a corner somewhere not very well lit and not very well organized and not very well stocked.

It comes down to this: on the off chance that someone that didn't grow up reading comics and doesn't (god forbid) know the difference between the first three incarnations of the Dark Knight's sidekick (Dick Grayson, Jason Todd and Tim Drake in case any of you doubt my geek cred) happens to get interested and walk into a shop to check things out, given the way we treat our artform, those folks are going to turn around and walk right back out, having been proved right about the immaturity of the comics, the fans and whole Shazam! We've succeeded in proving many critics right in focussing on dying genres, outdated methods of thinking and publishing and making it next to impossible for potential new readers to come into the medium with an appreciation.

Now the question for that potential reader maybe is not a matter of "what happened in the last ten years of the X-men that I need to know in order to understand all the in-jokes in this issue?" or better phrased "what could I be reading?" but instead should be "what should I be reading?" And that is the crux of this idea: a conveniently packaged prestige-format, library-style collection of the milestone comics that illustrate what the industry could be and have elevated the medium to an artform. I took the idea from two places: 1) in Warren Ellis's Transmetropolitan, to which I owe a large debt of gratitude, Mr. Ellis included in his letters page homework assignments of various books he felt were relevant and worth reading. This segment was called Required Reading. Hope you don't mind the slight theft... 2) There is a collection of movies released under the The Criterion Collection label which collects, remasters, adds all sorts of neat bonus features and repackages those movies that they feel epitomize the medium. ...and this is the spirit in which I start this (hopefully) weekly review--reviewing those comics and graphic novels that you should be reading...

I'm starting off not with a classic, but rather with a potential classic. Published under DC's Vertigo imprint, DMZ written by Brian Wood and pencilled by Riccardo Burchielli is required reading. Brian Wood has been self-publishing through AIT/PlanetLar for a number of years and only last year brought DMZ to one of the majors. DMZ is the story of a fledgling journalist stranded in the demilitarized zone of Manhatten island in a fictional civil war-gripped America set mere weeks from now. In the wake of several overseas armed conflicts, the American government neglects the rising tide of Middle American militias that quickly rise and push their way across the country seizing power and support as they go, only to coem to a grinding halt at New York City.

In this near future tale, Matty Roth, a journalist's asistant thrust unwittingly into the spotlight by his media-icon boss's death in Manhatten. Matty finds that not only does he now have to worry about staying alive in the DMZ as it's called, but he finds himself as the only major network correspondent in New York, wrestling with the reality of what he is witness to and what he has been told to believe about the way of the world as it is now.

This on-going series (the first 12 issues of which are collected into two tradepaperback volumes, On the Ground $9.99US and Body of a Journalist $12.99US) is compelling, honest work that begs the audience to look at the ramifications of the present beyond our windows and the consequences of that presents' choices lurking just out of sight on the next corner. This book is interested not so much in the story of Matty as in the plight of America and casts a dark mirror up to our perceptions of the armed conflicts in which we as a nation are already engaged and the media infrastructure in place that supports and propagagates our government's decisions.

Masterfully narrated by Wood, this book is focused and is is visually supported and enhanced by Burchielli's gritty, arresting visual storytelling. The two comine their respective crafts in a graphic novel that will appeal to life-long comics fans and new readers alike and will hold the attention of anyone with an even passing interest in current events.

Described by the Washington Post, DMZ "gut-wrenchingly portrays the chaotic reality of life in a war zone." This book questions the nature of what we as a nation believe and expect from our government and our media. DMZ: On the Ground and DMZ: Body of a Journalist both belong on your bookshelf within easy reach. This is required reading for next week kids. Try to keep pace...

Anime, Shm-anime

...okay, okay. I know that anime is the only worthwhile animation around right now for kids and adult geeks alike, but I've gotta say--enough. I'm all for anime in it's best form, i.e. Samurai Champloo, Akira, Steamboy, Porco Rossi and Princess Monoke. But that's really about it. I find the rest of it pretty mundane at best and downright bollocks at worst. And I find the current craze amongst comic fans downright depressing. Instead of going after the best across the board, I see people picking up every mediocre offering out of Japan and worse, fake anime from domestic poseur creators, regardless of quality. Meanwhile I see a lot of worthwhile work being passed by and domestic comic and animation sales drying up.

Here's my take on it. Anime and Manga (the print version of anime) is the media incarnation of fast-food. Just like Micky-Dee's, you have basically the same flavor at every stop and the only difference comes down to individual stores being managed better or worse. From what I've seen, the stories are mainly redundant and the artwork looks so similar that you can't tell one creator from another with some rare exceptions.

Having said that, I have two notable home grown alternatives. First off, check out Avatar: the Last Airbender. Though the form takes liberally from Anime, there is definitely much more creativity and dimension given both to the look and the story, taking from several Asian traditions and mythologies and adding a healthy dose of technology and quest-type adventure, Avatar has strong maleand female characters, morally complicated story lines and three-dimensional villinas. The lessons the cartoon delivers are not only relevant and decidedly un-preachy (no "...and knowing is half the battle! Yo Joe!" in this afterschool offering) but also involve the viewer in the moral decision making.

The second reccommendation is actually two: Ben 10 and Teen Titans. As a fan of all things retro-futuristic, Ben 10 and the Teen Titans supply all the stylized, flashy and three-color glory of the pulps and comic books of days past. Both recall the era that gave us the originals from Stan Lee, Jack Kirby, Seigel and Shuster, Bob kane and all the rest. Throw in a liberal dose of Cold War-era paranoia, giant monster chic and 50s pop illustration and you've got it. Both shows look fantastic, are genuinely engaging and strip away the convuluted, thousand-character casts of many of the comics out there right now.

So Long 2006, You Damned Dirty Dog

I can't really say that I'm all that sad to see the Year of the Dog wind down to an end with a whimper, though we did have some high points. To wit: 2006 saw Maggie and Coltrane join the human race and shed their previous embryonic mantles, the Republicans get the boot in Congress (though I'm not real sure how I feel about a government run by a bunch of jackasses...I mean Donkeys), the Pirates gear up for another run at the Calder Cup and the car still runs, sort of...

...however, I found little of Dog's supposed loyalty, friendship and protection in 2006, but rather a dirty, foul-smelling, vicious little cur snarling out of the corner. I can't say I'm all that sorry to see it go and am looking forward to 2007.

But enough prattle about a zodiac I know far too little about to credibly rant about. I realize it's been a little while and we have some catching up to do. First: as I mentioned breifly, 2006 saw the entrance into the human race of my neice Maggie, native of Colombus, GA and nephew in spirit Coltrane, native of Las Vegas, NV. I wish them both long, happy, interesting lives and give their respective parents fair warning: the kid-sized drums are already in the mail, 'cuz that's hows I rolls! Think of it this way: a well-rested parent really isn't doing their job properly. And I'm just here to help.

Next up, WFC Dominion, as I'll forthwith refer to the team, finished Session 1 with a valiant record of 0 - 7 - 1 and came dangerously close to advancing past the first round of the playoffs. We suffered short rosters, too-large rosters, injuries all the way around and insult and injury. And had a pretty good time. This Session, three games in, has seen the defection of several key play-makers, a chronic groin pull (not to be confused with chronic pud-pulling), a sprained ankle, a bruised thigh, weak ankles, a torn Achilles tendon, several substitutions and one high-order humiliation at the hands of a mostly high-school age team that was far too polite for their own good or our own pride. Doesn't sound too promising, I know, however we have in three games managed to out-score our total "goals for" statistic from last session and despite a multitude of injuries are beginning to show promise in the teamwork, skills and drive departments.

As this post marks the first contribution to 2007 I will briefly address resolutions. I do not, as a rule make resolutions any longer and have not since breaking every single one of them in second grade. However I have resolved to write more, spend less time in front of the idiot tube and produce more work. How that's relevant to this, is it means there will be more to read. I started this to hone skills I have not used in far too long. As such, I welcome any criticism and/or comment you may have in following my seemingly pointless meanderings.

In any case...there will be more to follow...

First Game, First Crushing Defeat

So, tonight marks the first evening game of the WFC Dominion soccer team. I can't say that it was a shining moment, however it was a beginning. Eight intrepid souls turned out on Halloween, despite many child-related previous engagements. We played Town and Country's team, a team that has obviously been playing together for quite some time, which, in the end, made the loss a little easier to bear. After all, we have not played together as a team before tonight and some of us, most notably myself, have not played in years (I think the last organized game of soccer I participated in was sometime prior to fourth grade).

With eight turnouts, we had enough to field one line, a goalkeep and still had one sub. An unfortunate minor injury in the second half kept everyone on the pitch for the remainder of the match, however the second half was, by all accounts, our best.

To keep things on the positive tip, every player that took the field performed admirably, some excellent plays were made, our goal tender, Nathan, was nothing short of spectacular and we were not skunked. Late in the second half, we managed to score through sheer grit and determination. Nathan, our keep extraordinaire made some incredible blocks and kept things respectable despite little help from the defense.

The good news is that we got the toughest team in the league out of the way early and from what this reporter understands, they are far and away the best. Spirits remained high and optimism and humor governed the outlook for next week's game and I think it's safe to say that everyone is looking forward to the rest of the season.

Final score this evening was 6 - 1, but again, at least we made it onto the scoreboard. An excellent beginning for what one bold speaker called the Bad News Bears. I think we all are looking forward to meeting Town and Country in the finals for a rematch!

The Sitcom as Domestic Survival Tool

I have never been one to spend much time on television; I'm more of a movie man. In fact, I spent a number of years with no television whatsoever. I know, I know. Many of you may be thinking "what kind of wing nut are you?" However, if you've never lived without TV, I highly recommend it. There is a certain change that comes over your view of life, time and the destructive power of commercial television as you begin to find new, more productive uses for the endless amounts of time that you didn't previously realize you had. It's really quite liberating.

This is not, however meant to be a dissertation on the evils of the boob-tube (though I promise, I will get to that at some point in the future). Needless to say, I do, in fact own a television and, much to my own dismay, find myself zoning out in front of it quite a bit. My normal fare consists of movies, cartoons (Avatar: the Last Airbender is my current favorite and I must admit a bit of an addiction. I guess I can thank my brother Nick for turning me on to that one), Survivorman and CSI. The original. Only the original. And commercials. I think commercials are one of the most important things to watch on television (Really. And I promise that I'll go into this more at a later date as well).

My wife on the other hand likes true crime, hauntings, anything on Discovery that has anything to do with Egypt or Egyptology, the BBC comedies on New Hampshire PBS on Tuesdays and **gasp** sitcoms. I used to be of the opinion that sitcoms were tripe. They are contrived, cliched, boxed up versions of everyday events that either need more serious attention or no attention at all. Seinfeld comes to mind as an example of the latter. I save a special, accute hatred for that particular program, made even more vile by the fact that it makes me laugh from time to time. But make no mistake about it, Seinfeld is evil. But as I've watched some of the sitcoms my wife likes (most notably Everybody Loves Raymond, My Family on BBC America, King of Queens, Mad About You, and the BBC comedies on NH PBS almost religiously), I've come to see these shows a little differently. As I'm sure you guessed from the title, I've begun to think of these shows as a resource for domestic bliss. It came about when my wife and I were arguing about some stupid thing or another; I really don't remember what it was, but it was probably something small. But the TV was on and when we both just shut up, the couple on the set was having the exact same argument, but scripted better.

Since then, I've watched with much less grumbling and started to actually pay attention. These shows, the better ones anyhow, are written by people that live this every day and address real issues in the home. I've seen everything from quibbles about household responsibility to financial problems, difficulties with teenage children to difficulties with the in-laws and aging to potentially marriage-ending goofs. These are real problems that real couples, both married and not face on a day to day basis. Granted, on TV they're scipted by a team of writers and generally happen in dream houses between stylish, attractive actors playing stylish, attractive people with jobs far more interesting than yours and come to a happy feel-good resolution in half an hour or less, but if you think about it, why do these shows draw such large audiences? It's not the attractive actors or the fantasy of having their house, or children that adore you all the time or the vicarious thrill of doing the fascinating job they have or hobbies they have or go to the restaurants they eat at. Sure, the voyeur element comes in, but these shows would do half as well if they didn't resonate with some element of truth.

I have a theory and if you don't want to read it, you should have gone to another page by now. On the surface, I think that this breed of sitcom serves as a reminder that you, the audience, are not the only couple that has faced this particular problem (pick one and insert here). Obviously, this is not uncommon if there were enough people on the writing team to think this episode up and put it on the air. On a deeper note, I think it serves a carthartic purpose to be able to laugh at the arguments you have and the issues you deal with. As cliche as it is, they say laughter is the best medicine, and though it might not cure cancer, I tend to agree that keeping things in perspective and maintaining the ability to laugh at ones self, surroundings or situation goes a long way in being able to ford the turbulent waters. In being able to laugh at a situation on TV that has resonance in your own lives, you can maybe take a step back, diffuse some of the tension and maybe be able to see things from your partner's perspective a little better.

Taking the issue a little further, I think that, especially for men, sitcoms provide an invaluable tool. We all do dumb things. Why? Because as a species, men are dumb. Period. We know it, they know it, I think Whatsamatta U proved it last year in a study spanning the past five generations so let's move on. I forget what comic said it, but it still as close to universal truth as the people of this planet are likely to get: Women are crazy and men are stupid. How does this apply? Men, pay attention. Sit down, watch TV with your partner (this applies to gay and lesbian couples, too. Believe me, I've know a few and the dynamic is no different, just that each partner plays both roles dependant on the moon or whatever) and pay attention. First pay attention to the show and remember: you are not smarter than the guy on TV. Trust me on this. Oh, you might not be as flagrant, blatant and obvious in the way you screw up, but you will. You'll say the wrong thing at the wrong time or in the wrong way or you'll forget an important date or fall asleep too soon after sex etcetera, etcetera. Accept this, learn from it, remember the lesson for the future (this is the important part) and move on. Second, pay attention to your partner and their reaction. If the show gets a "tsk tsk" or a "ooohhh" out of the answer to "does this dress make me look fat"on TV, gues what? That same answer is going to get you nothing but a night in the garage with the dogs if you pull it out the next time you're at the mall. If the guy on the show gets caught looking down the waitresses shirt or looking at internet porn and it earns you a punch in the shoulder or a "I'd divorce your ass", know what? Yup, chances are your partner's not kidding. If the dishes not getting done on TV gets you a glare, guess what I'd recommend as the best course of action. Just do the damn dishes and save yourself a fight.But realistically, it's not just about avoiding a fight, is it? Cause we all know what comes after a fight right? **wink, wink, nudge, nudge** What it is about is about is having respect for the other person and gaining some insight into what about you drives her (or him) up the wall.

And finally, I think these shows serve one more purpose: they serve as reminder that the fight isn't forever and you can work through it, if you want to. No, it won't be in half an hour. Hell, it might not even be in a day. But when you're in the middle of a crisis, such as it is, it's easy to lose sight of the reality that no problem is insurmountable and given the time, effort, and most importantly, willingness, you can work through pretty much anything. These shows can serve as a shock to the system and break you out of the funk that sets in when you lose sight of the proverbial forest.

Now go turn on the TV and skip the $500/hour marriage counseling session.

Till next time...

24 Hour Comic Day

www.24hourcomics.com

... So 24-hour comic day is over and for the second year in a row, I'm a bad comic-geek. Not so much for not participating, but for forgetting. Now admittedly, I have not purchased a new comic in ages and so cannot be expected to be completely current on the comings and goings of full-fledged geek-dom; however, I do trumpet the cause and should have made it a point to know. To the comic-gods: please forgive this transgression!

If you don't know what this "24-Hour Comic Book Day" is, here's the skinny: a number of years ago two comic book creator friends were chatting and one, an artist, was trying to defend his seeming inability to get his pages in under deadline. The other guy (this, by the way is strictly from memory; if you want the whole story including names and titles, click on the link above) then challenges the first and bets him that he can finish a complete comic book, start to finish, words, pictures, ink, soup to nuts in twenty four hours flat. The first guy accepts and the two of them sit down to create.

Now to put this in perspective, keep in mind, a regular issue of a monthly comic is gnerally no more than 30 pages. If you're talking about a run of the mill standard format comic from one of the major producers, that page count can be cut down to 22 pages of actual content given that most comics contain advertisements. Now in the comics world, most creators work assembly-line style. each person does something different in the process: i.e. one guy writes (think of this as scripting-this guy or gal gives direction on everything else), one pencils (or does the actual drawing), one inks over the pencils, one handles the colors, one does all the lettering, and so on. Keeping all this in mind, the average comic book progresses at a rate of about one finished page per day.

Try the again: one finished page per day.

Now try to think about doing a complete comic book, start to finish in one day. 24 hours.

I'm not sure who finished and who didn't in that first challenge, but the story passed around the industry (probably pretty quickly since the world of commercial comics is pretty insular) and people picked up on the idea. Two years ago, comics fans, distributors, advocates, companies and creators came up with the first, organized, world-wide 24-Hour Comics Day. The rules were as follows: In the span of 24 consecutive hours, you had to submit a complete 24-page comic book. You were not allowed to bring preconceived story ideas or designs, pre-drawn pages, pre-written scripts, etc. Materials, page size, definition of "finished", subject matter were all up to the creator.

I participated in this, thinking that, "hey I can figure out how to make this easy." Yeah right. I was not prepared, to say the least. My writing skills were rusty to say the least, my artistic skills, such as they were, were not up to snuff and I was sitting alongside independent and commercial creators and art-school students and ametuers that had been doing this, been published and been recognized. These people were serious.

I steeled myself, sat down, closed my eyes and envisioned a falling elevator. "Good enough," I thought. I grabbed onto that and ran. The twenty four subsequent hours were a gruelling trial of sleep deprivation, cramped quarters in a small comic book shop, dwindling supplies, arthritic-like hands and back aches,bad music, worse pizza, incessant in-jokes amongst those who knew each other, chain smoking, self-doubt, self destuctive impulses and desperation. Thow into that mix cameraderie, admiration, support, improvisation, frequent visits from my girlfriend (now wife), bursts of intense creativity and pure, unadulterated stubborness.

Of 30 people who started at Casablanca Comics in Portland, ME, I was one of nine that finished. One of maybe a hundred that finished in the world. It wasn't pretty, it wasn't flashy, it probably wasn't even that good...but it was done.

I told a reporter for the Phoenix that I would be able to call myself a comic creator after having finished. In a way I can. But I've realized over the intervening two years that you can't identify yourself as somthing if you don't do it. One completed comic book, does not make me a creator; it makes me a fan and a dilletante. And that's part of the motivation behind this project...

This year, I'm told, Portland had 40 entrants, more than any site in the country, possibly the world. The event was so big, that they couldn't hold it at the shop but instead enlisted the aid of Maine College of Art (MECA) and ran it from 10:00am Saturday, October 7 to 10:00am Sunday, October 8. I don't know how many finished, but I do know that there will be a lot of sore hands today. If you get the chance, check out the website, swing by your local comics store and ask about it, support your local artists. In Portland, if you check out Casablance Comics on Middle Street, they've dedicated an entire shelf to local creators of all abilities. The folks who do these comics do them out of love of the industry, dedication and its some of the best work out there. And if they make it big, you can say "i was reading this guy or gal before they blew up!" And impress all your friends...

Till next time, true believers....

Brakes

I was going through some pictures the other day and came acroos this one I took in Costa Rica right before going up 800 feet into the canopy. These are the "brakes" you would use, were you to embark on a zip-line tour of the rainforest canopy.
This is how it works: you get fitted with a basic climber's harness (for the un-initiated, this is a nylon webbing belt with attached leg loops and a loop at your crotch which connects you to whatever keeps you from plummeting to a horrible "SPLAT!" You can figure the rest out from the pictures...), a helmet (not really sure why as you're higher up than really anything that would be heavy enough to do any significant damage to your squash) and a pair of these jobbies. These are leather fingered canvas gardner's gloves that the staff glue leather pads to every morning. As you slide along the zip-line at literally break-neck speed (maybe they should have given us neck-guards rather than helmets, hmmm) you hold one hand on the cord keeping you on the line and one hand behind you on the line itself to a) keep you from spinning out of control and b) slow yourself to a reasonable speed as you approach the "landing pad" (imagine the ewok villiage from Return of the Jedi--that's the image).

Now, funny story regarding the misuse of said "brakes". While we were at the resort, there was a photo shoot occurring for some swim-wear catalog. Photographers and models and various members of the entourage that tried to appear as if they had some incredibly important and arcane purpose that involved consuming massive amounts of native beer and making a spectacle of themselves--you get the picture. On Saturday, apparently, they had the day off and, regretably, disappeared to go terrorize some corner of the country that was not the resort. On Sunday, two of the entourage appeared at breakfast not only hung over (which was really not all that remarkable) bust also, mysteriously, clad in fresh casts.

It took some doing and a good deal of shameless gossiping amongst the rest of the guests, but we were able to finally able to peice together the story: these two fashionista wanna-bes thought that it would be a good idea to pound Bloody Marys prior to starting out on this adventure through the jungle as they figured that there might not be any booze in the wild. As a result, these two geniuses didn't bother to listen during the safety spiel and couldn't figure out that they actually needed to do something to prevent SLAMMING into the platform or, God-forbid , the tree it was attached to and inflicting immense bodily harm to one's own body, and .... CRACK! Yeah, you guesed it. And the best was, one watched the other one do it and then proceeded to do the exact same thing on the next line!

The moral of the story: in, well, every place other than here, where we are raised as removed from any real danger as possible, the safety spiel is a good thing to listen to; activities involving high speeds and gloves as your main method of stopping do not mix with large amounts of alcohol; and basically pay attention and respect your surroundings...enough said.

Kill Em All

Over the wekend I noticed quite a few news stories regarding men on trial or being released after having served time for sex crimes. One of the women I work with recently received a letter from her 8-year-old daughter's school, informing them that a registered sex offender is moving into a place that's less than 1000ft from the school. In the news not too long ago, there was a report of a registered sex offender being killed. And the list goes on and on...

I have a couple of real problems with this issue. On the one hand, I put myself in the shoes of the parents and families of children who live such proximity to these people. I know that if I had kids, I'd be ape-shit if I got a letter saying that a registered sex-offender was being allowed to live within 1000ft of the school my kids went to because everyone else had run him (or her--I'll be using the male pronoun because, well, statistically that tends to be the case) off and his family owned land within that radius. It seems totally irresponsible to put children in proximity to that kind of risk. But then, isn't 1000ft kind of an arbitrary number? And what about 1000ft from a playground? Or from the toy section of a department store? Or, god forbid, from the home and yard of a family that has children? The truth is, the restriction on sex offenders to live outside a 1000ft area from a school is a token gesture. Yes, it will reduce the frequency said offender will come into contact with a child, but does it take away oppurtunity? Definitely not.

And should, as parents, we be expected to keep our children inside, locked away from the world to keep them safe from predators? Certainly not. How else do we expect our children to learn and become part of the world?

However, registered and convicted sex offenders, according to the courts, the verdict and punishment doled out by a 12-member jury of their peers (if such a person can really said to have peers within the normal scope of human existence) and the entirety of our society's justice system, have paid their debt to society once their sentence has been carried out and they are freed. Obviously, we do not believe this as a society or we would not continue to devise ways to keep these people on the outside. Nor she believe this to be the case. Statistically, sex offenders are more likely to commit their crimes again.

If this is the case, why do we insist on perpetuating the myth that our justice system is geared towards rehabilitation when this is obviously not the case?

This question came up during the course of a discussion on the subject with my wife and my answer was "kill 'em all." She was horrified. Understand, I am completely against the death penalty. I do not believe there is no justification for it. However, the statement I made was to illustrate the point: we, as a society are not mature enough to take responsibility for the gross realities and short-comings of our justice system, not willing to adjust that system to legitimately attempt to rehabilitate the criminals (not just sex offenders) and not prepared to accept those criminals back into society once their sentence has been carried out. The whole thing smacks of massive hypocrisy and leaves us with only two remaining options: ship them all off to a secluded island to be locked away from society for the rest of their lives (and we all know that the tourism trade will never sacrifice an island for that cause) or, as the title reads, kill 'em all. At least until we are prepared to grow up as a society and take responsibility for all of its members...

...in addition...

So here's the picture of Josh and Kate I mentioned earlier...these are the folks that came down with us...

Getting Started

So....this is a long time overdue. I've been thinking about doing this for quite some time but never really quite got around to it. So here we go...

...first off, this will be (or at least is intended to be) an exercise in getting me to actually write on a regular basis, post some of my artwork out there for general consumption and criticism and share things I come across that I think are pretty damn cool, or at least worth pointing out.

To start, and this is pretty damn cool, I got married. Now I realize that the picture is almost a year old as is the news, but, hey! at least it's out there now. As of October 3rd, 2005, Rebecca Michel Ivey (and I'm confident that she'll be pretty miffed at me for putting her full name out there...if you don't want to piss her off, make sure you address her as Becca; anything else you're on your own...) became Rebecca Michel Geneseo on a volcanic sand beach where the river meets the ocean on Papagayo Bay, Costa Rica.

For those of you who don't know the story, Becca & I dated in high school and fell in love when her family moved to Mass from Texas. Unfortunately, as many young loves are wont to do, we ended badly and spent the next ten years of our lives with no contact whatsoever...

...and the story picks up in March of 2002, when shortly after my mother passed away after a long battle with cancer (I'm sure there will be more on this to follow) I got a phone call: I was home after the funeral for my brother's birthday and was out the door to drive out to Amherst, MA, when the phone rang. I picked up against better judgement as neither my father nor brother looked to be about to pick it up. The voice on the other end, was one that I had thought about many times in the intervening years but didn't think I'd ever hear again. I wasn't positive at first, but when Becca told me who it was, I dropped the phone on the floor of the kitchen like I was in high school again.

We talked for a couple of hours and I found that I had an unusual feeling between my stomach and throat that I hadn't felt in a long time in addition to finding that talking to her was like no time at all had passed. I hung up feeling better than I had in a long time and seriously considered skipping the I-90 exit to head out West and instead drive North to Portland where I'd learned Becca was now living; I felt like I needed to see her RIGHT NOW! But, the little voices of Reason and Impulse had matured over the years and the balance of power had shifted and I told myself it couldn't possibly be the "L"-word after ten years and a phone call, so I turned off and headed out to the Pioneer Valley to visit some friends and try to clear my head after the funeral and everything that goes along with it. By the way, I was wrong. This is a lesson I took to heart: when in doubt, don't follow the advice of Reason; it tends to take much longer to get to the same place.

We started talking on the phone periodically and then making the trip from Boston to Portland or vice versa to visit and then it turned into dating and, well, the rest as they say is history...

...well, I was going to include a picture of our friends Josh & Kate, but as I am new at this, I can't seem to figure out how to include more than one picture per post--I'll have to work on that...

Anyhow, this whole story is give you an idea of how important Becca is to me. Not only is she the love of my life, she's also my biggest fan, the best thing ever happened to my artwork and the biggest fire under my hind-end to get some of my work, be it written, drawn, painted, photographed or some combination of the lot. I figured this would be a good start.

So, welcome to Rocket Fuel Sushi, hope you find something worth coming back for...