Fins to the left, fins to the right

Well 24 has always been a paranoid, right-wing fantasy, but the episode I just watched (I’m a week – no, two weeks – behind) took it to another level. It’s easy to believe this show is on Fox; the only surprise is it’s not being produced by its “news” division.

All through the season, Jack and company have been torturing people willy-nilly. There’s not a skilled interrogator anywhere near the halls of CTU – apparently they all work in Baltimore and New York. All they have in LA is Barney Fife and a tire iron. Everyone in CTU jumps right to torturing people, disregarding the facts that a) most info given up during torture is bullshit, just frightened, hurt people telling their tormentors what they think they want to hear; and b) the torture pretty much invalidates any future legal case against almost anyone involved (except the torturers themselves), but that’s probably okay, since CTU rarely leaves anyone alive, unless they slip through their buttered fingers altogether.

But now, they’ve got someone in custody who knows crucial information, and the plot has given them every possible justification for torturing the SOB – up to and including “he killed my muddah” (thank you, Edgar). But they throw two monkeywrenches into the works: a lawyer for Amnesty Internat—I’m sorry, Amnesty Global, don’t wanna get sued, after all—and a cowardly new President, both of whom oppose CTU’s handling of the new suspect with anything but the cuddliest of kid gloves. The point seems clear: anyone who opposes torture is either cowardly or a sleazeball. Forget Abu Ghraib, forget Guantanamo, forget shipping folks on the no-fly list out to “friendly” Arab nations who supply their own pliers and electrodes. Anyone who brings them up is a troublemaker who probably just wants to sell more books.

And then, the most preposterous solution imaginable. In order to circumvent the regs, Jack Bauer resigns, then tortures the guy in CTU’s parking lot after he’s released. This is perfectly in character for Jack, who has always been willing to take personal responsibility for any moral gray areas in order to get the job done. But the idea that this little paperwork shuffle is going to fool anyone, or even provide an adequate fig leaf for higher-ups to hide behind is laughable (although it’d probably be good enough for Fox reporters, come to think of it). And to tell you the truth, I’m not even particularly clear what job Jack is resigning from. He was working with the DOD in the beginning of the season, but was somehow fuzzily “reinstated” with CTU, whatever that means. Maybe he wrote two letters? If you’re the ever-on-the-go Jack Bauer, where do you find the time?

I have to admire the balls behind the idea that “We’re CTU. We have cameras everywhere, and can tap into those we don’t directly control. But if one of our ex-agents tortures one of our ex-prisoners five minutes after his release in our own parking lot, we’re Sergeant Schultz. We know nothink. We see nothink.”

See that fin behind you, Jack? Congratulations on the jump.

Rob

You miss a day, You miss a lot

Luckily, the folks doing thefilibuster in Princeton haven’t missed a minute. They’re still going strong,closing in on 168 continuous hours.

Here’s what’s coming up for them, speakers and press-wise.

Aspreviously mentioned PA Senate Candidate Chuck Pennachio will speak todayat 3 o’clock. His opening act is Senator Jon Corzine's Deputy Press Secretary,who will read the senator’s statement at 2. At 4 o’clock, some of the filibusterorganizers will be interviewed for Hardball with Chris Matthews, which willbe broadcast later today. And tonight for 6 to 9 p.m. the “Filibuster Players”will be performing an impromptu version of Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream.

Therest of the week is beginning to take shape as well. Tomorrow morning at11:30 Princeton English prof Jeff Nunokawa will speak, and on Friday, PrincetonTownship’s Municipal Chair Dan Preston will make an 11:30 appearance.

Keep speaking, folks. You are being heard.

Rob

133.5

That's how many hours the Princeton Filibuster has been going on for -- and it's scheduled to go on til at least Tuesday, apparently. At 3 in the afternoon, Chuck Pennacchio, a candidate for Rick Santorum's PA Senate seat will be taking the bullhorn. Go, Chuck! Go, Tigers!

(Y'all are gonna need one helluva lozenge when you're through, but it's worth it!)

Oh... and the Filibuster made the Washington Post!

Rob

Go Frank!

Our congressman, Frank Pallone Jr., (NJ-6th.) and his family will join the Frist Fillibuster at 2:30 p.m. tomorrow afternoon.

Keep it Rollin'!

Rob

I don't know if I ever mentioned this, but...

Superman is a dick.

Enjoy!

Rob

Your Filibuster Minute

The Trenton Times covered the Princeton filibuster again today, speaking with Congressman Rush Holt about it.

Rob

All Through the Night...

And from the looks of things out my window, through the rain as well. The folks at Princeton filibustering what Josh Marshall calls the Crybaby Option continue to impress, entering their 97th hour as I write this. For the long division-impaired, this means they crossed the four-day mark an hour ago (carry the one...).

I'm filled with awe at these folks. This is a great idea, implemented with panache.

Rob

Holt and Aesop

In his participation in the Fillibuster against Frist this afternoon, Congressman Rush Holt read several of Aesop's fables.

"You might have noticed a theme from the fables," Holt said. "Be
careful what you wish for."

It's a good point, and a canny move on Holt's part. As a Congressman, his voice is more likely to be heard than that of any other individual reading there. And his audience -- Republican congressfolk reading the morning paper -- will know exactly what he's saying. There won't always be a Republican majority in the house or senate. And when the Dems are once again large and in charge -- won't they want a rule protecting their interests?

The filibuster is in everybody's best interest. Without it, our judges would become increasingly ideologically divided, with only the Supreme Court to have the final word on more and more rulings that lean farther and farther to the left or right. And as the Supremes get replaced with the new, ideology-driven judges, their own rulins will become more and more suspect. (Yes, even more so than Bush v. Gore 2000 -- or more often, at least.) In the end, it becomes an unworkable system. It needs moderation -- it needs the filibuster -- to stay afloat in the long term.

Read more about Holt and the filibuster in this Daily Princetonian story by Neir Eshel.

Rob

Princeton Filibuster Schedule

The Princeton Filibuster against Frist now has a new, easy-to-remember url: www.FilibusterFrist.com. At their web site, they’ve got the following schedule posted:

6:00 p.m. North Plainfield Councilman Nathan Rudy

7:00 p.m. Hamilton Councilman and NJ State Assembly Candidate Dan Benson

8:30 p.m. Theoretical physicist Frank Wilczek, co-winner of the Nobel Prize in Physics in 2004. Wilczek is one of the people who contributed to the Standard Model of Physics, which connects the Strong Nuclear Force, the Weak Nuclear Force, and Electromagnetism. In other words, he’s one of the people who best understands what holds the universe together. That ain’t no small potatoes.

Thanks to all of these worthies for putting their reputations behind this excellent cause.

More as I learn it.

Rob

Watching the Detectives

Holy crap.

According to a new book written by a former Army translator at Guantanamo Bay, some of the interrogations witnessed by Congressmen and other officials were faked – staged for the benefit of the viewers. It seems that cooperative witnesses were allegedly requestioned for the visitors, rather than allowing them to see the interrogation techniques used on uncooperative prisoners.

The Army denies it, of course.

This could be big, especially when it hits 60 Minutes on Sunday.

Rob

Quick Filibuster Update

The Princeton Filibuster against Frist going stronger than ever; it’s just about to enter its 75th hour. Congressman Rush Holt will be speaking in a few minutes, and there’s also going to be a cell phone rally, in which people at the filibuster will call every senator to urge them to reject the nuclear option and save the independent judiciary.

Democracy in action, folks. I love it.

Rob

Go Tigers!

Students (and some faculty) at Princeton University have been staging a filibuster for the past two days outside of Princeton's Frist Center, named after the family of Senate Majority Leader Bill Frist. They're doing this in protest of the threatened Senate rules change theat Republicans called the "nuclear option" before public opinion polls indicated that most of the country didn't see the term as the veiled threat they meant it as, but an outright display of meanspiritedness and obstinancy. The nuclear option will ban filibustering on judicial nominations -- an eerie thought, if you consider the nutbags and greedheads Bush wants to place on the bench for lifetime appointments.

So the Princetonians have staged a creative protest, reading nonstop from all sorts of material, from the U.S. Constitution to My Pet Goat. Here's a webcam where you can follow their progress.

Go Tigers!

Rob

Awful Names

I’ve had the dubious pleasure of discovering two mind-numbingly awful names in the past week or so. I don’t know which is worse. One was probably a perfectly good name until someone coined it as an obscene verb; the other, while perfectly suitable for polite company, conjures a disgusting image, which certainly hasn’t changed since the place was named. But enough with the yadda yadda yadda… You wanna know the names.

Felch, Michigan. I work for a magazine, and when we received a letter with this address on it, I had to check to make sure it was a real town. And it is. What can I say? I feel so sorry for those people. These poor Felchers have probably heard enough jokes about their name… or maybe not. I wasn’t able to Google up any references to any legal motions to change the town’s name. But I get grossed out just thinking about it. No wonder Michigan looks like a big glove.

(If you’ve never heard of the word “felch,” you can Google it if you dare. Suffice it to say that it’s something you can do with santorum.)

The second name – chosen regardless of its culinary implications – is The Pizza Coop, a pizza and hoagie shop in eastern Pennsylvania. Chickens…pigeons…ugh. Whatever the coop, I don’t want it to have anything to do with my pizza. I think about those rooftop scenes in On the Waterfront and get queasy. I’ll have mine plain, thanks.

Anyone have any other horrible names they’d like to share?

Rob

Pope.com

I meant to post this the other day, since I read about it on Mark Evanier's wonderful site, but time slipped away. Rogers Cadenhead, a writer who's penned enough how-to computer guides to crush a desk (although not this sturdy one we have now, but certainly the old, flimsy one that fell apart during a move... actually, that not be a very emphatic comparison to his prolificness, so let's just say he's written about 20), bought the domain name BenedictXVI.com. Basically, he did it to keep any unsavory internet types from grabbing it -- gamblers, pornographers, Dr. Clement Okon of Nigeria who will pay you handsomly for your help in accessing his trapped millions -- you know the type.

Rogers is writing about what happens with the domain, and I'm really curious to see what'll happen next. He seems like a nice, genuine guy. Check out this post first, and then here's a link to his blog in general where you can get the latest.

Rob

Where is My Supersuit?!!

Two quick items.

One: Here's Brandon Routh as Superman, this time. The S is a bit small for my taste, but I think the costume looks pretty good, overall, and Routh seems pretty convincing. But stills don't prove nuthin'. Leets see some clips!

Also, the Beat lets us know that Nicholas Cage is Ghost Rider. With a photo and everything -- although no flaming skull as yet.

Rob

One More Thing...

Welcome, Sharon, to the world o' bloogging!

Sharon's blog, The Center of NJ Life, deals with New Jersey politics and government, but even if you're not from around here, it's worth a look.

Rob

What's happenin' hot stuff?

Through the magic of Sploid, I found this story on the web. (And through the magic of a search engine, I found it again when I got home.)

Basically, it says that Chinese men have penises the same size as everyone else. Big deal, huh? But check out these key paragraphs (the last sentence is the zinger):

The average length of their flaccid penises was 3.33 inches, which compared
favorably with similar studies on other men overseas.

Germans have average lengths of about 3.4 inches, Israelis 3.27 inches, Turks 3.07 inches and Filippinos 2.89 inches. Italians were the longest at 3.54 inches, and Americans averaged 3.46 inches.

The study did not measure the penises when they were erect.

Ok, I the only one who can't figure out why anyone would care about this information? Erect, sure, I can understand that. But flaccid? Who the hell funded this study, you eggheads? Did they even tell you why they were interested?

I mean, really.

Rob

Weather Whore

Check this out. Senator Rick “Man on Dog” Santorum wants to pimp the National Weather Service to big business. Essenatially, he says that the NWS shouldn’t give out its weather information, since it unfairly competes with weather.com and Accuweather.

What a turd this guy is. We paid for this information. Our taxes. Our money. And now he wants to keep us from it so some businesses -- who are often using the data we paid for -- can sell it to us? Or sell our eyballs to advertisers?

Thank God this guy'll be unemployed in 17 months.

Rob

“’Til Wednesday” is the new “Perpetual”

Does this strike anyone else as odd?

Although the cardinals swore an oath of perpetual secrecy about what occurred in the conclave, many began to talk about it on Wednesday.

Even after vowing “perpetual secrecy” about the papal conclave, some cardinals were gabbing about it to the Washington Post. Maybe perpetual secrecy has different connotations in Latin.

Rob

Look! Down on the Street!

It's a Guy! In a Vest! It's Superman!

The Beat has pictures of Brandon Routh as Clark Kent.

Rob

Got any plans for 2034?

How 'bout dyin'?

As the man says at the end, this one probably won't do the job, but one of 'em, someday, will -- unless we seriously address the problem of asteroid collisions. We have time. We just don't know how much.

Cheery!

Rob

What's all the flap about?

Kathy & I heard a great song in the car tonight on The Big Brodcast on WFUV. A fun tune called "He's So Unusual," performed by quintessential flapper Annette Hanshaw (under the pseudonym Patsy Young) with Jimmy Dorsey and his Orchestra. Click the link to go to this page listing what I assume is all of her recordings; scroll down to "He's So Unusual" and give it a listen on RealPlayer. Good fun.

(And yes, apparently Cyndi Lauper modified the title for her She's So Unusual album debut -- she even sings a truncated version of it on the album.)

Rob

Better than Belushi

I've been getting a real kick out of watching the old episodes of Saturday Night Live that NBC has been running in the 3 a.m. to 4:30 time-slot on Sunday Mornings (or Saturday night, if you're a nite owl like me). I'm never sure which episode they'll rerun -- NBC's website isn't particularly forthcoming, and neither is TV Guide -- but the ones I've seen have all been worth watching -- particularly the early episodes where they haven't slipped into the comfortable comedy/music pattern they've been in for decades now. And a few weeks ago, they played an 80s episode with Billy Crystal, Martin Short, Julia-Louis-Dreyfus, Rich Hall, and others -- they're honestly one of my favorite casts, purists be damned.

But last week's was an early one, with Peter Boyle hosting. There were some funny bits (a wrestling match between the Bees versus the Wasps, a car commercial poking fun at Ricardo Montalban, and the fantastic Dueling Brandos) and some odd cultural references (a Weekend Update gag about George Bush, head of the CIA) -- but the finest thing in this episode was the musical guest, Al Jarreau.

I'm not a big fan of the musical guest segments, and nearly fast-forwarded this one without a listen. I'm glad I didn't. Jarreau had just released his debut album, We Got By, and his performance of the title track was absolutely compelling. I've watched it three times so far, and will probably do so again before finding a home for it on VHS. His voice soars and bubbles, moving looping around wherever the song needs to go. It's a treasure. He also performed "You Don't See Me," another sweet couple of minutes of music that make it absolutely clear what an influence he's been on Vance Gilbert, an excellent singer-songwriter in his own right. Gilbert often sings Jarreau's "Could You Believe" in concert, but that now seems like a tribute to Jarreau's influence, not the extent of it.

But believe me when I tell you: Jarreau was amazing on this show. We Got By is definitely worth seeking out.

Rob

Krypto-tease

Wanna see a teaser poster for Superman Returns in 2006? Look no farther.

Rob

There are two sides to Dr. Phibes.....both of them EVIL

I saw the 1971 Vincent Price movie The Abominable Dr. Phibes the other day, and it was a lot of fun -- there are truly campy elements in it, but I was struck by how much genuine creepiness there is to the movie as well. The way Phibes talks gives me the willies -- but the way he drinks champagne is jaw-droppingly odd. And the last scene is will gave me the type of grisly chuckle usually reserved for old EC Vault of Horror comics.

One thing that struck me is how much of a blueprint for Seven this movie was. Instead of the Seven Deadly Sins as a killing motif, Phibes uses the Plagues of Egypt. The film tantalizes the viewer with odd actions on Phibes' part, letting us wonder until the last minute how his task (say, boiling brussels sprouts) is going to lead to someone's death (it does). The two movies also share a plot twist, but I won't say any more than that.

Rob

Linkies, Shaggy!

Wow, if that's not a lame head, I don't know what is. Sometimes the muse strikes you, sometimes you gotta beat her with a sawed-off cue stick before she gives up even this little droplet of inspiration.

Having said that, though, here are some links.

I first saw this on Atrios's site, although Mrs. Grumblepants sent it to me today. It's just my kinda cheese.

So I replied with this (sent to me by a coworker). It's a riff on video number one, but it brings back the memories of wretched puppets.

And then, completely unrelated, there's this. Gotta give the Holy See his propers, yo. Don't dis the infallable, or the infallable gon' drop ya.

Oh, and for the curious: the best recent search term that brught this blog to someone's attention was:

"super mario" satanic christians

I have no idea why those concepts would fit together at all.

UPDATE: Looks like the makers of the We Stand As One parody got a Cease and Decist. Oh well.

Rob

DVD Nanosecond

I saw The Ice Storm last night.

Worst. Parents. Ever.

Rob

The 220-lb. Gorilla

I don’t know why I’m writing about this. This seems to me to be a fairly radical departure from where I’d like this blog to go. But the subject’s on my mind, and I think writing about it will help me codify certain behaviors, and maybe understand them. They say naming the problem is the first part of the solution. That’s always the way it’s been in fantasy novels. Once you have the evil wizard’s true name, he’s in your power. I don’t think that’s an accident, although it’s surely a subconscious trope for the most part. But only when we understand something can we defeat it.

So to begin with, when I was walking to the train tonight, I had a somewhat frightening thought:

Alcohol is not one of my vices.

Sure, I’ll have a few too many drinks every now and then, and I’ll make a fool of myself and on occasion, get messy about it. But those nights are fewer and fewer, and the cleaning bills are farther and farther between. Which is all well and good, if something hadn’t stepped up to the plate and taken the place I always expected booze to be.

God, I love to eat.

Now, there are a number of reasons for this. First of all, much of the world is tasty. No sense missing out.

Second, I’m always curious about what things taste like. Everything I see on a table, I want to try. I crave what I see. This can be bad news.

Third, sometimes I eat because I’m unhappy with myself. This is a vicious circle, I know. I won’t be happy with myself if I keep eating, I know that. If I’m trying to lose weight, and I fall off the wagon, like I did last night, I get pissed off and crabby and take it out on Kathy a little and myself a lot.

Here’s what happened last night. Things were going well on the whole Body-for-Life multiple small meals thing. I had small meal number 3 at around 3:30. By the time I got home a little after 6, I was hungry, and due for another. There wasn’t time to eat anything decent, and I didn’t have the foresight to grab a B4L bar – besides, we were going to my nephew Billy’s confirmation, and if I decided to take communion, I shouldn’t eat beforehand.

Well, we got there around quarter of 7. My sister-in-law Carolyn had saved seats for us – in the back row of the balcony. We couldn’t really see much of anything but the choir, which sang and sang and sang.

Well, the service lasted until 9:30 or so. Sis-in-law Sue described it as “beautiful.” I’m not one to judge; those are the words of someone who has had dinner.

(I didn’t take communion, by the way. By the time it came around to me, I was questioning my motivations – did I want to take part in the ceremony, or did I just want a snack? I erred on the side of caution.)

Now, there was a reception in the church basement. I expected some cookies, some white sheet cake. I was hungry – very hungry – but figured I could probably keep away from them. I did suggest that we skip out and go to a diner instead, where we could get something relatively balanced, but it’s good to spending time with family—that’s why we were there, after all—and I wasn’t going to put up a fuss about it.

Well, the spread was awesome. Lots of different cakes, cinnamon buns, croissaints, fruit and dip, tons of other stuff. I stayed away from it for a while – had water instead of punch – but soon enough, I’d put a few different things on my plate, not all of them strawberries. Understand, I was really hungry, and surrounded by food. I had no idea that God would be holding us hostage upstairs for so long.

I ate them. They tasted good. I felt miserable. It started pouring outside. Kathy and I eventually got home, where I could finally have the chicken dinner I was dreaming of. Dessert wouldn’t do.

Okay, that’s all well and good. But then, we watched the Daily Show (it was 11:00 by dinnertime) and then I had a letter to write on the computer. Kathy went to bed.

I didn’t.

It didn’t take long to finish the letter, but I didn’t go to sleep. I’d already decided I wouldn’t go to the gym in the morning – a self-defeating decision that I could either make at night or when hitting the snooze alarm. But I stayed up. I checked blogs, news sites, message boards, I was falling asleep at the computer, and I couldn’t bring myself to go to bed. I don’t really know why that is. Maybe bed is for people who actually accomplish something. Maybe I wanted to burn off a few more calories by sitting upright, I don’t know. But, I drifted in and out on the computer until I finally packed it in and went to bed. Late.

After a few hours sleep, a shower and a nap on the train, I got to work, where I was foggyheaded, paranoid and miserable. Time crawled. I walked in to an office to get a donut once, but they were gone, thankfully. And now, as I write this, I’m on the train, on my way home.

I’ve eaten the right things so far today, and I hope to continue tonight. Tomorrow is a B4L free day, and I’ll take advantage of it. Not doing it because I don’t “deserve it” will probably do more harm than good, and give me an excuse to cheat all next week.

But man, it’s amazing how many bad decisions I can make because I pick up a fucking cinnamon bun in a church basement.

Rob

ADDENDUM: Since I wrote this, Kathy & I had a very good dinner at Afghan Kebab House #7 in Metuchen. We each saved half of our dinners for later. Even though I probably had a bit more than what the B4L gurus would recommend, it’s the control that counts.

You Know You Want It

This might be the best news site ever -- it doesn't publish anything itself (so far as I can tell) -- but what great links!

Down at the bottom is its raisin d' ezra:

Sploid is a news site with a tabloid mentality -- top stories up top, played big, as fast as they break. If there's a political line, it's anarcho-capitalist: sniffing out hypocrisy and absurdity, whether from salon left or religious right.

Sounds good to me. 'Course, I'm always up for anarcho-anyoldthing.

Rob

Welcome to the Sidebar, Kitty Pride! Hope You Survive the Experience!

Been meaning to update my sidebar for a while now, and Dave Decay gave me the perfect excuse to do a half-assed job of it and only add two links. One is to his blog, Goosnargh – it’s sporadic now, but it could overboil with mad ideas at any moment. I’ve known Dave for years, and he’s a deeply dangerous fellow. The man introduced me to Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds, after all, so I owe him a lot from the get-go.

The other is to Brian Tarnoff’s blog, The Vaguest Ideas. I haven’t seen Brian in years (he lives in another country, after all), but he’s unfailingly fun to hang out with and he’s got a lot of stuff to say from over the pond. And, in an unusual twist, he’s a prolific bastich as well.

So stop by, read some stuff, and enjoy. ’Cause I sure as hell haven’t been keeping you busy.

Rob

Roast Beef

Arrested Development is the funniest show ever.

Rob
"You gotta lock that down!"

SUCCESS!

Okay, it looks like, through trial and error, I've managed to post a photo onto the blog. Just your luck, it's one of me. Hopefully this will allow me to do some fun things I've been thinking of trying. But for now, you're stuck with my damn mug.


Who's watching WHO?

Torty Turtles, Every One Of 'Em

What do Governor Schwarzenneger, President Bush and Senators Rick "Man On Dog" Santorum and Tom DeLay have in common?

If you guessed that they're all proponents of so-called "tort reform," you're right.

But if you guessed that they've all filed lawsuits for damages, you'd also be right.

Shwarzenneger sued an Ohio auto dealer for unauthorized use of his image (in California courts, not less, despite the ad in question not running there). Santorum sued his wife's chiropractor for malpractice. (in what venure, I'm not sure -- he hasn't actually lived in PA for years.) DeLay sued a manufacturer for producing a defective copupling that played a part in the accident that killed his dad. And Bush sued Enterprise Rent-A-Car for renting to a driver with no insurance who got into a fender-bender with his daughter.

Now, I can't comment on the quality of the lawsuits. As far as I can tell, many, if not all, of them have merit of one sort or another. I've got no problem with them filing them. The courts can decide if anyone was in the wrong.

But you'd think that someone who's used the courts to redress injustices that happened to themselves or their families might be more sypathetic to other people who want to do the same.

I guess the world just looks different from the pocket of Big Business.

Rob

Jilline Ringle

I don't know how many of you will recognize her name, but Jilline was a terifically entertaining actress and performer. I remember her one-woman show Mondo Mangia fondly -- in it, she'd tell stories of her family and sing classic songs, all the while cooking an Italian meal, served to the audience at the end. It was a wonderful, heartfelt show, crystalizing a message that's stayed with me to this day.

Food is love. I remember Jilline saying it, and how real it felt then, and still feels. It made me all the more grateful for the many home-cooked meals my mom made, the burgers my dad grilled, all of it. And it occured to me again tonight as I came home to Kathy feeling a bit under the weather, so I made dinner for her. (I can kiss her and tell her I love her all I want, but it's not chicken. Chicken is chicken, and it can do the job just as well -- although I admit it helps to do both.)

It's a simple message that adds richness to any meal, and it may stick with me for the rest of my life. So I've got plenty to thank Jillene for already. That's on top of the entertainment I got from the plays she performed in. She was a talented actress, and she's gone from us far too soon.

I didn't know her. I just gave her a good review or three, back when I was doing that sort of thing. God knows she earned them. Anyway, I'm ill-equipped to write any sort of obituary; if you want, Philadelphia Weekly has one here. I just wanted to take a moment to note her passing, and wish I could see her perform Mondo Mangia one last time.

Rob

Welcome to the fall of Rome

I haven’t been paying much attention to the Terry Schiavo circus. For one thing, it’s horrifyingly sad. Plus, the grandstanding of DeLay and Frist make me sick to my stomach (can someone please take Frist’s license away? A heart surgeon delivering a diagnosis on brain activity based on a videotape has to be malpractice, doesn’t it? At the very least, it’s ethically… well, “suspect” doesn’t even tell the half of it. It’s reprehensible behavior.)

Anyway, I had heard something about Bush signing some law that would let the case go before federal court. But I didn’t know the details. Then I read this in The New York Times.

…supporters of Ms. Schiavo's parents, particularly members of the religious
right, leaned heavily on Congress and the White House to step in. They did so
yesterday with the new law, which gives "any parent of Theresa Marie Schiavo"
standing to sue in federal court to keep her alive.

This narrow focus is
offensive. The founders believed in a nation in which, as Justice Robert Jackson
once wrote, we would "submit ourselves to rulers only if under rules." There is
no place in such a system for a special law creating rights for only one family.
The White House insists that the law will not be a precedent. But that means
that the right to bring such claims in federal court is reserved for people with
enough political pull to get a law passed that names them in the text.

This is hideous. We’re losing the essence of our legal system to these dirtbags.

Rob

Head Shots Update

Man, did it go well. I'm a lucky man to have the actors I have. They totally sell what I wrote.

The whole evening went well, actually -- even the play that I thought was falling apart got a miracle, and totally came together. I'm not sure I understand it all, but at the very least it's fun to watch.

Rob

Phew!

I just finished my 5-minute play for Spontaneous Combustion. It's a weird little piece called "Head Shots." I'm guessing it could be the strangest play of the bunch. You can see for yourself on Sunday, Monday or Tuesday night.

UPDATE: The actors, David and Brain, are doing a great job with it. It was pretty well-received at the read-through, and it looks like it will be starting out the night. It should be a lot of fun.

Rob

Best Blogbounce Ever

I've been punching the little "next blog" button every now and then, but I only very rarely find something that appeals to me. But then I found this guy's blog. Looks like he's only been at it for a few days. But he seems pretty cool, and he directed me to Plustech's Walking Forest Machine. What I wouldn't give to drive one of these things! Definitely check out the videos, too.

Rob

Dancing Drugs

Consumer's Union has made up a fun animation about our prescription-drug culture. Take a look; it's funny stuff.

Rob

Spontaneous Combustion Begins in Two Days

Just a quick note about my upcoming weekend. I’m about to try a fun exercise at Theatresource. It’s called Spontaneous Combustion, and my friend Jen Thatcher turned me on to it. Here’s the deal.

Friday night, I’ll pair up with two actors. I’ll be given an opening line and a “cultural reference.” (I’m a little unclear on what this is. If I’m given “Pulp Fiction,” can I have the two actors dance like John and Uma?) From there, I go home and write my shriveled little heart out on Friday night.

Saturday, the actors get my script and rehearse.

Sunday, we all have a tech day. Then on Sunday night, it’s showtime! There are two more shows on Monday and Tuesday.

Now, from what Jen told me, every writer gets the same first line and cultural reference. Under these parameters, however, the five-minute plays go in wildly different directions. I’m really psyched about it, and can’t wait to see what comes out of my head – and then to see it acted out onstage is a crazy good feeling I haven’t had in years.

So, if you’re in the New York area and want to see what would pretty much have to be the most recent thing I’ve written (unless I sneak a page or two of Dash Dixon in during rehearsals), come on down to Theatresource. I can’t promise it’ll be good, but I’m sure it’ll be interesting.

Rob

Listen.

Just a quick post about getting new music into your life.

Rob's been posting about podcasts quite a bit, and I was going to join him. And I will, soon, but for now go visit him to see what the rumpus is.

And I wanted to talk about Mark Morford's recent list of cool radio stations, most of which are available for listening online. His column is here -- there's bound to be something you'll like on it.

But for now, I'll just mention the first one that caught my ear: The Bone Conduction Music Show. Mark's description? "Goddamn fabulous. Old school. Beer and dogs and down 'n' dirty snappy banter and the finest eclectic mix of true devil's-music blues in the known universe, straight outta the deep-freeze beer chest that is Ann Arbor, Michigan. "

This is great stuff. Already it's introduced me to un unreal Dave Edmonds tune called "Dear Dad" -- it's in hour 2 of the March 11th show -- and a ton of other great tunes. Say hallelujah, grab your ankles and get ready for the blues injection. This show's downloadable in hour-chunk mp3s, and you won't stop with just one.

Jeri, Chiris A., Sharon -- we're talkin' about you here. You don't wanna miss this.

Rob

Special LATP Investigative Report

As I was drifting in and out of sleep this morning, I weighed the evidence that my subconscious mind had obviously been mulling over all night during my dreams. The question remains: Is Sandra Bullock a mermaid?

Pro: She’d dropped out of sight for a few years. She could have been in Atlantis.
Con: She has legs.
Pro: She jumped out of a plane over the Pacific Ocean, and showed up a day later on a Los Angeles beach.
Pro: When confronted, she leaped back into the surf. Not even Prince Namor, the Sub-Mariner, could track her down.
Con: Aquaman wasn’t consulted, and he knows the Pacific waters better than that East Coast water baby.
Pro: David Spade, playing an abrasive tabloid reporter, claimed he had evidence, and was tracking down the story.
Con: He’d probably get his comeuppance by the end of the movie.
Pro: After Spade was convinced, we’d all find out that she really was a mermaid and she’d tricked him.
Con: But what about those legs?

Inconclusive: Bullock’s publicist has never mentioned it. Lori Lemaris and the Man from Atlantis could not be reached for comment.

So that’s it. Based on evidence both real and imagined, I’ve conclusively proven that Sandra Bullock might not be a mermaid. Maybe.

Rob

Click...

...here.

Made me laugh somethin' awful.

Rob

Why Civil Unions Aren’t Enough

Words matter. If there’s anything I’ve learned from a life of talking, let alone writing, it’s that. What you call things directly affects how you see things, how you think of them. A rose by any other name is not a rose, not entirely. It may smell as sweet, but so does a cinnamon bun.

I don’t remember the first time I ever heard a gay man refer to his partner as his husband, but I think I remember what I thought when I heard it: “How cute.” This was years ago. I don’t remember who said it, or even if it was in person or simply someone I saw in a movie. Thinking about it, it was probably a live conversation – there weren’t a lot of gay folks represented on TV even 15 years ago, and I probably wasn’t watching those few who made it on the air. I never saw Torch Song Trilogy; it didn’t skeev me or anything, it just didn’t interest me enough to seek out. Not with The Last Starfighter in Theater 2.

So, My point was? Oh, right – “husband.” I thought it was nice that this guy was calling his boyfriend his husband. Nothing wrong with that, call him what you want. It sure as hell sounded better than “partner,” which sounded like a business arrangement, or “life partner,” which frankly sounds to me like a prison sentence. “Meet Crusher. He’s my life partner. Got any cigarettes?”

But one thing I never actually thought – that the guy I was introduced to was the other guy’s husband. I couldn’t take that at face value at all. He was a boyfriend, a lover, a…shudder…partner.

In other words, no matter what this guy said—not that he made an issue of it—I didn’t take their commitment as seriously as he did. As they did, husband and husband.

Now, I might’ve had a girlfriend at the time, or maybe not. But whenever I had a girlfriend, I was committed to her, and to the relationship. I might have loved her, I might have not – it really depends on the girl. But I was trying, I was faithful, and I like to think I was pulling my weight, relationship-wise. Sometimes it was work.

I didn’t see anything wrong with being a boyfriend. It was a pretty high level of emotional commitment, in my book. But I say this now, as someone who’s gotten to the “husband” chapter of the book: A boyfriend is NOT a husband. Not remotely. Neither is a fiancé a husband, despite what I thought of my level of commitment in that year and change. It’s not that I loved Kathy any less when I was a boyfriend, or a fiancé, or any of that. But the commitment is different. Not by nature, but by degree.

And when it comes down to it, I know damn well that heterosexuals aren’t the only people capable of the degree of commitment to be a good husband, or a good wife. If I can do it, it can’t be THAT tough – at least with the right spouse (another word I hate, incidentally – its gender-neutrality makes it sound somehow clinical. Esposa and esposo in Spanish are great, but "spouse" seems invented rather than organic). And it’s not just the will to be committed that makes the commitment possible. The word itself makes it possible. I didn’t think it was possible to be more committed to Kathy, to have more personally at stake in her health and safety and happiness, than when I was her fiancé. Fact is, I was wrong. Being a husband changes things, amplifies them. I imagine being a wife does, too.

Gays and lesbians should be able to marry. They should call their partners husbands and wives… and not only mean it, but have everyone know they mean it, and know what it means. Anything less is second-class. Civil unions may be a necessary step to get where we should be as a society, but they're just a step – not the destination.

Rob

As we start the weekend…

I should probably talk about last Saturday. Kathy and I went into the city to see the Gates. They’re the big orange portals that straddled the paths in Central Park for a few weeks, designed by an artist named Christo. We had a good time wandering through the park, taking pictures and looking around as the sun began to set. It was a chilly, gray day, and the orange gates looked imposing and terrific, like an army marching in formation.

We had tickets for a show later, so we headed out of the park and started looking for a subway. Before finding one, we found a choclatier called La Maison du Chocolat, where all the chocolate smells like money. (“Everyone likes money. Why do you think they call it money?”) Rather than buy a box of 2 or 6 bonbons (which we’d polish off in a heartbeat), I went into the back and ordered two hot chocolates – a bittersweet and a sweet. And was then told: “$15.20.” Yikes! Nonetheless, Kathy and I soon were ambling down 5th avenue, savoring our seven-dollar hot chocolates. Of the two, the bittersweet was better.

We headed downtown to the Theatre for the New City to see the Bindlestiff Family Cirkus. We had left some time for dinner, so we found a little bistro we thought was called the Anyway Café, but all interior indications pointed to Ame Russe, “a French bistro with a Russian heart.” We had a delicious dinner (duck ravioli for her; chicken stuffed with spinach, goat cheese and roasted peppers for me) with some martinis, and noted too late that they had a lot of interesting vodka infusions. But… we had to go. The circus started at 8!

The Bindlestiff Family Cirkus is putting on several shows around the city; the one we saw is called “From the Gutter to the Glitter.” In it, Mr. Pennygaff and Philomena Bindlestiff demonstrate a variety of sideshow and vaudeville acts, including sword-swallowing, fire-eating, top-throwing, trapeze artistry, whip handling, and balloon snorting. (You read that right.) Tickets were cheap–$15 apiece–and we had a blast. I even took part in a beer-chugging contest—who can down a bottle of Budweiser without using their hands at all—and got my ass kicked by a girl. But at least I didn’t spit the brew all over myself, like contestant number three did. And hey—free beer. Well, free Bud, anyway.

After I bought a top and getting it autographed by Mr. Pennygaff, Kathy and I headed to a little pastry shop to get desert. Then, sensing it was too early to go home, we went back to visit our Russian friends.

A live band began playing since we’d left, and the truth is, while they had some talent, they didn’t seem to have rehearsed at all, and the singer’s reach exceeded her grasp quite a bit. But Kathy and I found a little table against the wall, and ordered two shots of vodka—one infused with apples, the other with blackcurrants. Both were terrific, but the apple was the real treat of the two. As we were deciding what to try next, the manager (who’d recognized us when we came in) sent over two more complementary shots. Delicious, and slowly down the hatch once again. But I had my heart set on a lemon shot, so Kathy ordered another apple, and we had a third before heading back into the cold.

Hell, even the train ride home was enjoyable. At the theater we’d found a free magazine called Jest, which had us in stitches the whole ride home. A history of the Groundhog Day groundhogs. Polygamist Valentine’s Day cards. A jaywalka with badass attitude. And one of the funniest puzzles I’ve ever seen (but can’t describe without ruining the joke). Even the ads were funny.

Some days you get wall-to-wall good days like this, and when you do, you’ve just gotta appreciate ’em. Even if, as I suspect, this one was meant for someone else.

Rob

Internet Switchboard

There are a few interesting conversations and items going on at some blogs that I (and quite likely, you) frequent, but in case you're not going there, I thought I'd direct you.

Mark at the Roost is hosting an interesting conversation about when it's okay to tell parents to control their kids. I don't have kids, but I have to admit I'm clicking rather regularly to see whether anyone else has commented. It's nice to have something else to discuss other than politics now and then -- and something reasonable people can disagree on is even better.

Jeri, Seething in the Wilderness, is listing the 44 things she'd do if she were president. She's up to #7; here's the first. (#6 is my favorite.)

And Rob at Usdin.net has brought up a number of good things, including podcasting (which is not only the New Cool Thing but is either a seed or a symptom of how the Internet can change the world--probably both), efforts to allow the FCC to censor cable TV & satellite radio, and the possibility that linking to a campaign's web site violates the McCain-Feingold campaign finance law. This last one could be an attempt to turn people against Mc-F, but it's worth knowing about just the same.

Rob (a linkin' fool)

Marvel Team-Up

Spidey and God.

Rob

Sticking My Neck Out

I usually have a bet going with my friend Mike about the Oscars. So far, I've won every time, although the deluge of hobbit-related little gold guys last year made me sweat. This year. Mike jetted off to Florida, so it looks like the bet is off. But here are my pics for the big Oscar categories, just the same:

Leading Actor: Jaimie Foxx, Ray.
Supporting Actor: Morgan Freeman, Million Dollar Baby
Leading Actress: Hillary Swank, Million Dollar Baby
Supporting Actress: Virginia Madsen, Sideways
Animated Feature: The Incredibles
Directing: Martin Scorcese, The Aviator
Adapted Screenplay: Sideways
Original Screenplay: Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind
Best Picture: Million Dollar Baby

So those are my picks. A bit of hedging: I'm pretty confident about most of my choices, but I think Million Dollar Baby could easily take best adapted screenplay, and I haven't seen The Aviator yet, so if it's underrepresented here, that may be why. Also, the only reason I've beaten Mike on our bet most years is because of a strong showing in the lesser-watched categories, not listed here. We're about even for the big movies, although he was dead-on last year picking so many hobbit awards. If I hadn't picked the name of the Best Short Film sight unseen, he'd have my ten bucks instead of the other way around. (Not that I have his ten bucks anymore. Don't even know what I spent it on. Probably went to see a movie.)

Rob

Love is in the air...

Mark at the Comics Cave pointed out this fun site full of reworked romance novel covers.

Share the love.

Rob

Our Coward President

According to this report, President Bush had originally scheduled a “town hall” style meeting to take place in Germany during his tour of Europe. Those plans are now scrapped, since the German government wouldn’t agree to Herr Bush’s demand to pre-approve all the questions the German citizenry would pose to him.

Pardon my French, but I can’t believe this pussy is the face we show the world.

Rob

(Pardon, also, my impugning of one of my favorite reproductive organs. Wish I had another word so blunt.)

Softballin’ the President

So, the Jeff Gannon story seems to be floundering. For some reason, the homophobic gay prostitute right wing hack getting essentially a perpetual 1-day press pass so he can lob softball questions to our fearless leader and his lackeys was good for a bunch of late-nite jokes, but just doesn’t have traction in a country completely controlled by the President’s party, with a media so cowed that even common-sense questions about the whole sleazy operation get overlooked.

What I’m wondering is this: How did Gannon meet these guys? Did he first make contact with Rove? McClellan? Who bought who a drink? Did he approach them? I can’t believe they recruited Gannon; despite my lack of faith in this administration’s competence, I expect their security guys can still do background checks. So, I figure, they knew – about the websites, the prostitution, everything. No matter what his political beliefs are, I imagine the Bushies would have preferred to stay as far away from him as possible.

But they didn’t. And the only reason I can imagine that they sanctioned this pressroom cuddlefest is because Gannon has something on one of them. Something that’d look very bad for the administration, particularly to its homophobic cheerleaders. He may not know where the bodies are buried, but I bet he knows in what closet to look for a skeleton. So to speak.

Gannon’s website describes him as a “top only”. Who’s his bitch?

Rob

Fridge Update

Kathy & I seem to be 2 for 2 with Sears. The delivery guys came early on Wednesday, and the fridge is installed and running fine. Makin’ ice like a mutha, too.

Rob

Homicide: Life at FOX

Paul Waldman at the Gadflyer notes an interesting piece from Media Matters about the Fox website changing the words of AP stories to suit the administration's propaganda needs. Specifically, they change "suicide bomber" in the AP stories to "homicide bomber," the term BushCo prefers.

It's one thing to let your own reporters (and copy editors!) be ground into chewy bits by the administration's ever-changing style guide (are they "personal accounts" this week? "Privatization"? "Your private hard-earned money hoarded in a mattress of stocks?" Whatever). But changing wire reports so it looks like the AP is going along with this ridiculousness? Wrong, wrong, wrong.

Rob

Divorcee Non Grata?

As my friends will attest, I have a pretty low opinion of the President. When I hear something about him that seems underhanded, close-minded or shortsighted, it doesn’t surprise me. I don’t trust him, I don’t like him, and I think he’s leading our country in the wrong direction.

But then I read something like this, from Paul Gilfeather at the UK’s Sunday Mirror:

GEORGE Bush has banned Camilla Parker Bowles from the White House - because she is a divorcee.

The unprecedented snub has effectively sabotaged Charles's plan to take his bride on a Royal tour of America later this year.

The trip would have been the pair's first official tour as a married couple.

But the US President - a notoriously right-wing Christian and reformed alcoholic - told aides it was "inappropriate" for him to be playing host to the newly-weds, who
are both divorcees.

This just plain doesn’t make any sense. So much so that I don’t think it’s true at all.

I mean, what would be the point? I understand pissing off gay folks, making them feel like their relationships are substandard, because it energizes the bigots of the religious right. And now that the election’s over, and the conventional wisdom says that it was the turnout of evangelicals that tipped the scales, the President understandably would want to take a small break from doling out corporate largess to throwing the religious right a bone.

But this is a weird-ass bone. Is it worth it to snub our staunchest ally because their antiquated faux leadership got divorced and remarried? I don’t see how this even caters to the religious right – as unpleasant as divorces are (and as weird as the oddball “covenant marriages” that are springing up in certain states are), is the religious right that strongly against divorce? If so, why is there such a high divorce rate among born-agains?

Surely Bush works with people with a divorce or two under their belts every day. And heck, his own brother just got one (and just to bump the search-engine hits for my blog, I’ll add that underage Thai prostitutes were involved. Hear that, Google? Underage Thai Prostitutes. And… my hits just went through the roof*). Does he mean to tell so many of his constituents that their new marriages are worthless?

Nah. Can’t be. I think someone – probably at the Mirror – is misinterpreting something wildly. That is, if this story wasn’t fabricated out of whole cloth. But something smells here – and for once it doesn’t smell like Bush.

Rob

*If I break 30, that’s “through the roof” in Rob-land.

Tentacles

For one of my many meals today (I'm supposed to eat six small'uns thanx to Body For Life), I decided to stir-fry some of my leftovers from Korean barbecue the other night. Pretty much what was left over was entirely octopus or squid, with a single lone scallop to remind me what normal seafood looked like.

As I dumped the tentacles into the the skillet and they started to sizzle, I couldn't help but think how strange it looked. It's one thing to eat this food in the psychological safety of a restaurant, where professionals are telling you (by implication) that this or that is edible. It's quite another to see tentacles the size of my pinky bouncing around in sizzling canola oil. I felt like a conehead cooking his dinner. Beer and styrofoam insulation, anyone?

After a few minutes, I added a little Korean stir-fry sauce we had in the fridge -- just a few drops to coat it. They started sizzling like crazy, and I soon took them off the range.

And then I ate them. And you know what? They were damn good leftovers, my initial squeamishness be damned.

Rob

They're doing it again.

Karl Rove has driven the Republican Slime Machine to the AARP's door. Expect to see lots of ads, and hear lots of the usual blowhards on TV talking about how the AARP is cheating seniors, is a bloated organization getting tons of money from the government, is anti-millitary and pro-gay marriage, and is generally bad for America.

What the AARP is, in reality, is against the president' plan to dismantle Social Security. And when it comes to getting in the President's way, it doesn't matter how innocuous you are, or how ridiculous the claims are -- the usual gang of liars is going to paint you as Tokyo Rose. (These were the same people that were perfectly happy to get the AARP's endorsement on Bush's Prescription Drug Bill, I might add.)

We've seen it with the Swift Boat Liars. And now, the same people are organizing against the AARP. Josh Marshall has the goods.

But remember -- whenever you see one of these ads, one of these idiots on TV -- remember it's horseshit, top to bottom. And that they've lied to you before, and they'll do it again.

UPDATE: Here's more from the New York Times.

Rob

Our deck is covered in snow again...

In case any of you are looking for a place to put some beer. It'll be in good hands -- promise!

Rob

Sad News

Hunter S. Thompson shot himself yesterday.

Rob

3 pounds 1 ounce

Just as I'm starting to work out again, I'm close to ending my stripping career. Today I tackled the floor molding while Kathy (successfully) set up the pipes to accept the new fridge and dealt with some other electrical and plumbing issues (with mized results). The belt sander and palm sander -- even at 40 grain- didn't do very well against the three to four layers of paint on the wood, so it was back to the chemicals for me. I pretty much finished off our second can of stripper, but got a coat (in most cases, two) on the molding, scraping it all off and calling it quits just a few minutes ago.

The number above? That's how much paint I scraped off the wood today, not counting the many gobs that didn't make their way to the garbage bag.

Rob

Various Updates...

I've shaved my head again. This will make it easier for me to join the Olympic diving team. It's never really been a dream of mine, but I figure, what the hell, my head's shaved. Might as well go for it.

Kathy and I bought a new fridge. It arrives Wednesday. I'm aquiver with excitement, what with the ice maker and the water dispenser and the keeping milk fresh over a long weekend, none of which our current fridge can do. No more slimy lunchmeat!

Of course, every fridge has risks. Kathy and I -- despite numerous warnings -- bought our refrigerator from Sears. Dave and Marilyn had a horrible experience with Sears delivering a fridge to them. This is chronicled on their blog, I think, but I can't find where.

Today is house day! After a visit to the gym, Kathy and I are going to spend the day working on the guest-room-to-be or installing a water line to be hooked up to the fridge. Expect accomplishments aplenty in this exciting episode!

Rob

Million-Dollar Baby

I just saw Million-Dollar Baby tonight, and it was every bit as good as people are saying. Seems like every year, I go to the theater on my own to see a Clint Eastwood movie. Kathy, sadly, doesn't care for the guy -- and since the movie's about boxing, that's just one more strike against it. I love 'im -- but the man just doesn't make happy movies anymore, does he?

Clint, you know what would cheer you up? Co-starring with an orangutan again.

Rob

Screen Cleaner

Mark Evanier directed me to this website that will clean your computer screen. I pass it on to you.

Rob

Twilight at the Well of Souls

Arthur Miller has died, and I expect plenty of people will have plenty to say about him. He was a giant, and plenty of people more eloquent and knowledgeable than me will have something to say about him, I’m sure. As for me, I always liked All My Sons and After the Fall, and hope I never get any more empathy for Willie Loman than I already have.

But I just heard some surprising news – surprising because I didn’t realize I missed him. Jack L. Chalker died today.

For those of you who don’t know, Jack Chalker wrote a number – an enormous number – of science fiction and fantasy books. I haven’t read any for years, but when I was in junior high and high school, they truly knocked me out. Looking back, they were the next stepping stone for me after Piers Anthony’s Xanth books.

The first one I read was called Midnight at the Well of Souls. It featured a strange cast of characters, all transplanted onto a planet that looked like a giant hex map, with a new environment (desert, jungle, tundra) and lifeform on every hexagon. A total patchwork world. And these characters all had to work together to find out what was going on and get their lives back. (If I recall correctly, they were each—with one exception—transformed to the dominant lifeform of the hex they teleported into.) The book and its sequels were full of page-turning adventure and neato-cool science fiction ideas, and I read ‘em past when the paperbacks were held together with rubber bands. (That sounds more impressive than it is – a stiff wind could blow apart those flimsy Del Rey bindings.) As I was rereading them, I remember thinking that the essence of science fiction was putting familiar people – our heroes – in unfamiliar places, situations, and even bodies, confronting the unknown. It’s my first memory of ever examining a book like that – like a writer instead of a reader. It would have happened regardless, but I certainly owe Mr. Chalker thanks for bringing it out of me when he did.

He wrote so many books, and I read a ton of them, but the other series that really grabbed me was the Dancing Gods series. Beginning with River of the Dancing Gods, these lampooned the clichés of fantasy novels, while still telling an exciting fantasy story on their own. The world operated by a book of rules, seemingly cobbled together from the clichés that J.R.R. Tolkien and Robert E. Howard put in motion, such as “all beautiful maidens in distress must be scantily clad,” and similar dress codes for barbarians and the like. Although I’m sure he didn’t invent it, I’d never seen that sort of comedic trick pulled before, and Chalker opened my eyes about that, too.

Sooner or later, I stopped reading his books. The formulas and tropes I identified in earlier books seemed worn a little too much on the sleeve, and I was looking for more resonant drama and subtler humor. But his books were exactly what I was looking for at the time, and there was a two or three year period where, if you had asked me who my favorite writer was, I would have said Jack L. Chalker.

I guess what I’m saying is rest in peace, Jack. I wish I’d realized earlier that I’d appreciated you as much as I do.

Rob

Social Insecurity

There's a lot of talk about Bush's plan to demolish (did I say demolish? I meant privatize.) Social Security lately. (Did I say privatize? I meant set up private -- no, make that personal -- accounts.) I'm sorry -- all the new terms the Bushies run up the flagpole when their old ones crash and burn are getting me dizzy.

I have neither the time nor the expertise to write about it more than passingly here. But I can point you in the direction of people doing some very vital work on the issue.

First, there's Josh Marshall at Talking Points Memo. He's makin' a list, and checkin' it twice, of all the Democratic legistlators who are waffling and making noises about supporting the President's plan. (He calls 'em the Fainthearted Faction.) Then there are the surprisingly numerous Republican lawmakers who are peculiarly unwilling to commit to his plan, some of whom have already stated that they oppose it. (He calls 'em the Conscience Caucus. You'll call them delicious.) So from that end, he's covering the political maneuverings about the plan. But he's also doing yeoman's work in explaining Social Security, what it's there for, the extent of its problems, and the levels of deception the Bushies are using to sell America on the fact that: Social Security is IN A CRISIS and their privitization plan will solve the problems (even though they've actually said that the switchover wouldn't make things better one bit). A few of his more recent posts have dealt with the increasing evidence that Bush is laying the groundwork on defaulting on the Social Security Trust Fund -- despite that being a violation of his oath of office. Good stuff, believe me.

Also doing a great job at explaining this complicated stuff is Paul Krugman of the New York Times. He's an economist, but he really seems to know what he's talking about anyway.

Give 'em both a look.

Rob

In case you hadn't heard

I know I'm late on this, but prepare to smile.

Rob

Success!

Our fifth annual Mardi Gras party -- the first one at our new house -- has been declared a success by a panel of impartial arbitrators, who noted the record levels of rum consumed, the conspicuous lack of any leftover jello shots, and the fanciful designs painted on the foreheads of the remaining participants. "It's clear, judging by these factors and others (including the amount of jambalaya eaten, the numbers of other sweet and spicy dishes brought and consumed by revelers, and the beads absolutely everywhere), that this party was an unqualified success," one of the judges whispered grogily. "Now where's that goddamn Tylenol?"

Rob

Damn.

Ossie Davis, Actor, Is Dead at 87

Marshall: They just pay me to drive the limo, sir. I'm not here to tell you who you are.

Joe: I didn't ask you to tell me who I am.

Marshall: You were hinting around about clothes. That happens to be a very important topic to me, sir. Clothes, Mr. . .

Joe: Banks.

Marshall: Banks. Clothes make the man. I believe that. You say to me you want to go shopping, you want to buy clothes, but you don't know what kind. You leave that hanging in the air, like I'm going to fill in the blank, that to me is like asking me who you are, and I don't know who you are, I don't want to know. It's taken me my whole life to find out who I am, and I'm tired now, you hear what I'm saying?

Jam...buh...lie...arrghhh....

I'm letting batch two of three of the jambalaya simmer. Sometimes I forget what an iron man competition stirring the pot of rice, veggies and ham is before I get to put in the beef broth and it becomes so much easier to stir. Ah... blessed broth....

One more to go. Hopefully I'll be in bed by 1:30. But honestly, once the jambalaya is done, I feel like Mardi Gras has truly begun.

Rob

What I'm Talkin' 'Bout... Is Ettics!

Okay, I'm cooking tonight, so I want to get this angry post out of the way so it doesn't get into the jambalaya. I'm not even that angry, really, and certainly not disappointed. We know what to expect from these creeps. But the sheer lack of surprise is no excuse for their actions.

So yesterday, snuck into a news cycle where the State of the Union speech would eclipse it, Dennis Hastert (the Unspeakable) relieved three Republican members of the ethics committee of their duties. Seems they had some ethical problems.. meaning they had them.

These were the three guys -- Joel Hefley of Colorado, Kenny Hulshof of Missouri, and Stephen LaTourette of Ohio -- who voted against the rule that would have let Tom DeLay keep his leadership position if he was indicted with a crime. Consequently, they got the axe, in favor of three Repugs with no such ethical lapses (we here in realityland might call it a conscience).

So it's even less likely that any Republicans will be investigated by the ethics committee, unless they start biting the heads off puppies (in public, I mean). 5 republicans, yes-men all.

Here's a story about it in the Washington Post. And here's what Josh Marshall has to say about it.

This is fall o' Rome stuff here. It's quiet, but if you listen hard enough you can hear it.

The only good thing about all this is that sooner or later they'll turn on each other, old-school. Lord-of-the-Flies school. But for now, Piggy's got the conch.

Rob

Best Crap Ever!

Got back from Vegas on Monday, and had a general run of good luck, bookended by a little bad.

To start off, a couple of days before leaving, a pipe froze and burst in our basement. Soon after landing, I was on the phone with Kathy and found out it would cost $650. I hadn’t set foot in the casino, and I was already in the hole.

Next, I managed to steal someone’s luggage. I pulled the wrong suitcase – pretty much identical to mine – off the back of the shuttle bus, not noticing until I went to unpack it. My first thought was “someone stole my sports jacket!” but then I realized what was going on.

I called up the shuttle service, and they were trying to track it down, when I got a call in my hotel room from the woman who tracked me down. Seems she had taken MY suitcase, and started calling the hotels she’d stopped at previously to track me down. She got me on the first try. Two quick cab rides later, I had my bag in my room. But I’d missed my only chance to see Mac King. Que Sera…

I hooked up with my coworkers and had some nice meals on various people’s expense accounts. And we played craps. Lots of craps. And man, there I kept getting lucky. The first night I pretty much broke even, then left to play some cheap blackjack, only to get clobbered by the dealer. After that, though, I kept on leaving better off than I started. By the end of the weekend, I was $750 up, and pickled in gin. Some of the money stayed in Vegas, in the pockets of cabbies and the purses of showgirls. But I still brought home $500 (after a miserable flight), which in less than 24 hours was in the hands of a plumber. But we’ve got the new pipes I’ve always dreamed of … or at least, that I’ve dreamed of since we lost heat in the bedroom.

There’s more to my Vegas trip than this little overview, and I should be getting to it soon. But I wanted to get this quick post out there, in case any of you were wondering if I’d lost my shirt.

Answer? Doesn’t matter, as long as the heat’s on.

Rob

Viva!

I'll be in Vegas for a few days. And one of the things I'm most looking forward too is the chance to see Mac King's comedy & magic show again. The last time I was there, someone was outside of Harrah's giving away free tickets, so Kathy and I just had to pay for a pair of pricey drinks to enjoy the show. But even with the relatively meager cover chage, Mac's show is a steal. If you get a chance, by all means go.

Rob

Johnny

I’ve been reading a lot about Johnny Carson these last few days. Maybe a lot of us are, or maybe most people of my generation and younger have read maybe one or two tributes and moved on. He left television in 1992, when I was 22. I was certainly old enough to stay up to see his show, and old enough to enjoy and appreciate it. But I may be one of the last generations that did, I guess. And I’ve been realizing how much I’ve missed him for these last 10 years or so.

I just read Bob Dylan’s biography. (Okay, I listened to the abridged audio version read by Sean Penn, but cut me some slack, it was read by Sean Penn, okay?) And Dylan wrote (poorly paraphrased by memory): “There are some people who seem to slowly fade away, but then, when they die, it’s like they never faded at all. They’re still there, clear as day.” I think Johnny’s like that. Seeing his end-of-monologue golf swing once, twice, a dozen times – you could probably forget it. But hundreds? A thousand, for some people? That stays sharp, even when everything else blurs.

One thing my mom said to me on Sunday: “Your father and I probably watched him on every night of our marriage.” Now, that’s not factual, I know. I like to think they took a night off to give birth to me, for instance, although I may just be flattering myself. But I know that Johnny went off the air in 1992, and Mom and Dad kept broadcasting together for long after that. So the facts don’t bear her out, but I think it’s true just the same.

Which brings me to what’s driving this post. While I’ve read some great stories about Johnny and the Tonight Show – check here and here to find some – none of them have really touched on the Johnny Carson experience the way I remember it. Until I read this piece by Kim Ode in the Minneapolis Star Tribune. The site is a little finicky with subscriptions and I’m not sure my link will work, so here are the key paragraphs if it doesn’t:

For those 15 minutes, I sat with my mom and dad and heard Johnny's take
on the day. I heard what made them laugh, and what made them groan with comic pain. If I made myself invisible enough to stay up a bit longer, I could witness their shocked delight when Johnny, as Carnac, said something a little sexy, a little naughty. I learned more about their politics listening to them listen to
Johnny than I ever did at the supper table.

Over the course of those odd weeknights, my parents grew to seem less like mom and dad and more like actual people. They had a sense of humor far more sophisticated than I'd imagined -- I hated having to ask them to explain a joke -- and far keener interest than I'd realized in a world that didn't include me. They had a life, long before I could have huffily urged them to get one.

So when the tributes began pouring in about Johnny this week, I realized how much I also was in his debt. He gave my folks a way to unwind, even when the headlines were awful, even when the sky brought no rain, even when I'd rolled my eyes at the supper table. And as they laughed, I saw their true selves, and slept the better for it.

Yeah, that’s it.

Rob

Word to your preznit.

On his blog the other day, Eric Alterman introduced me to the word "kakistocracy":

From Barry R, a word that gets more useful with each day: Kakistocracy (from The American Heritage® Dictionary of the English Language: Fourth Edition. 2000)

SYLLABICATION: kak·is·toc·ra·cy
PRONUNCIATION: kak'i-stok're-se, käki-
NOUN: Inflected forms: pl. kak·is·toc·ra·cies
Government by the least qualified or most unprincipled citizens.
ETYMOLOGY:
Greek kakistos, worst, superlative of kakos, bad; see caco- + -cracy.
Oldest use: 1829.

PUTTING THE WORD TO USE:
"Is ours a government of the people, by the people, for the people, or a kakistocracy rather, for the benefit of knaves at the cost of fools?" - 1876 OED

The only thing I have to add is just a cheap chot-- not a particularly good one, either, but one I find I'm unable to resist: The president certainly puts the ka-ka in kakistocracy.

Rob

Fair-Weather Fan

Okay, I’ll admit it – I’m jumping on the bandwagon. I’m not an Eagles fan in general. I mean, they’re my favorite football team, but that’s like saying rhinoplasty is my favorite surgery. Football doesn’t matter enough to me for my favorites to mean anything.

But now the Eagles are in the Super Bowl. And I’m happy about it – I even watched the end of the game (from about halfway through the third quarter) of my own volition. When I turned on the TV to watch, my wife looked at me like I had three heads. She did not marry a football fan, and think she suspected I was the Rob from an alternate universe or something. But it was the Eagles, in a playoff game, which made me curious. And when I saw they were winning, I just stayed put.

I know a lot of “real” fans look down on fair-weather fans like me. We’re not in it for the long hall – we jump on the bandwagon in the final stretch. But I know I’m not taking the Super Bowl ticket out of a “true” fans’ hand. I’m just watching them on TV, instead of doing something else. Hurting no one.

And the reason I watch is pretty simple. Philly’s needed a championship of something for a long while, and I’m happy to see it so close. I watch, and I think about how it’s making my brothers and their friends happy. I think how much my dad would have liked the game. And that makes me happy. The only way I enjoy watching football is vicariously – even if it’s on right in front of me. But that’s better – much better – than not enjoying it at all.

Go Eagles. Bring it on home.

Rob

Foul-Weather Friends

Well, we’ve had what will hopefully be called the Blizzard of 2005 around these parts. (I say hopefully, because the only way it won’t is if it gets a name like “The First Blizzard of 2005” or “The Blizzard We Thought Was Really Bad Until The Roof-Crushing Genuine Monster Blizzard of 2005.”) Kathy and I began our day at my mom’s house south of Philly, and had to drive back up to Edison to get home. We’d made plans to stop at our friends Sharon & Andrew’s house to play D&D, but the game was soon called off on account of snow.

We stopped by anyway.

All the way up through the snow, my windshield wipers were icing up, causing us to stop the car, climb out, and de-ice them by hand. The first time we did this was right after we crossed the Walt Whitman bridge. By the time we got to Exit 8 on the turnpike, we’d done it nearly a dozen times – each one a bit less effective than the last.

There were stretches of the turnpike that were absolutely deserted. We didn’t see anyone on the road from Exit 3 to nearly exit 5 – even though we stopped several times to clear the windshield. No one passed us. It was eerie, being alone in all that white and cold. Once we got to Exit 7 or so, the crazies started coming onto the road, whizzing past us on the right and left, far too fast for the conditions.

We thought about stopping at a hotel, but pressed on to our friends’ place. Sharon, Andrew, Emily and Audrey graciously took us in, and we had a great time, eating a great dinner and breakfast, playing games and just hanging out. Eventually we helped them shovel out their driveway, but by FAR we got the better end of this deal.

To top it off, when we finally got to our house this afternoon (for more shoveling!), we discovered that Kathy had left her purse (and her car keys) at their house. Andrew drove up to bring it to us, and stuck around for a few minutes to watch the Eagles win.

It was a crazy weekend – but it wound up being a lot of fun instead of a disaster. Depending on the kindness of strangers is fine, but you’re a lot better off depending on the kindness of friends.

Rob

Just Linkin'

Andrew has a really good catch-all post about Iraq, and while I have my own stuff to say about it, I don't have time to write it now. The one thing I've gotta ask is: What's the source for that Tommy Franks quote? I've gotta see that in black & white!

Rob

Have you tried looking high and low? How about just low?

Heidi MacDonald alerts us to a British midget shortage in her awesome blog, The Beat. Seems with Harry Potter and Charlie and the Chocolate Factory both filming, Doctor Who can't get no tiny love.

Rob

24: Can Someone Call Ma Bell?

Okay, I'm three quarters of the way through the four-hour, two-day premiere of 24, and -- as much as I like the adrenaline rush this show gives me, there are parts that are simply hit-the-pause-button-and pick-your-jaw-off-the-floor stupid. Case in point: In hour three, the head of CTU says "It'll take days to review [the secretary of defense's son Richard's] phone records"... and tacitly authorizes an agent to torture him to get the information.

Okay, toss aside the political ramifications of torturing the defense secretary's son. Forget that.

Doesn't CTU have at least ONE skilled interrogator, so they don't have to go to code red on everyone with the sense to keep his mouth shut? An agent said that what was probably keeping him mum was pride, rather than complicity in the crime. That shouldn't be TOO hard to break, to anyone with decent training. Anyone -- and I mean ANYONE, even Beau -- on Homicide could have gotten this kid to mention who he’s spoken to about his dad’s visit. But he wouldn’t talk to the folks at CTU, who are actively trying to help him? I’m sorry, I so don’t buy that. I used to say Vic Mackey could retitle 24 to One and a Half. But Frank Pembleton or Kay Howard could make it Point Five, giving us enough time for some wacky escapades at the bar.

But the best part was: "It'll take days to review his phone records." Izzat so? The personnel at CTU can’t call up Verizon and get his records, cross-referenced with the names of the people on the other line, in less then five minutes? These people who reroute satellites? “Oh, that’ll take days. Just torture him.”

That’s bunk. I hate it when they make the rest of CTU look like morons just to make Jack look good, and with him out of the organization altogether, it looks like that’s the new protocol.

Rob

Ummm...?

You know, most of the time I go to Captain Comics' message boards, I read and post about comics. It's the friendliest place I've found on the web to do so, bar none.

But every now and then the conversations take odd little turns, and I wind up directed to sites like these...

Clowny recently let me know that a wonderful site I had seen before -- The 10 Worst Album Covers of All Time -- has a sequel. Here it is...

And the illustrious Dr. Manbot revealed that there's a web quiz where you have to decide whether a given name is that of a My Little Pony or a porn star.

I got 4 out of 12.

Maybe the parents among us will do better.

Rob

Quote of the week

Bill Murray, on parenting (he has six sons, ages 3 to 22):

"It's my favorite gig, but it's a little early to say how I've done. You know, John Hinckley's folks thought they were doing an okay job at one point too."

Got that one from last week's Time magazine, which has a really nice article on Murray.

Rob

Ex-Xmas Xperience

Another Christmas has come and gone. We throw a big birthday party for the guy, but does he help with the cleanup?

Yep, today it was time to take down the tree. So tonight -- after putting it off for a while with other chores and a game of Puerto Rico -- we built a fire and got around to it. Most of the ornaments originate with Kathy, so I had no idea which poxeds to put a lot of them into.

My favorite part of taking down a Christmas tree is to light the lights one last time and wind them around the hand-held light rack while they're still aglow. I feel like I'm holding brass knuckes from the set of Star Trek.

On its way out the door, our tree dropped more needles than you'd find in Keith Richards' dressing room. Luckily, the hardwood floors make them easy to sweep up.

Anything else to report this weekend? Just that I'm having a blast using Kathy's Christmas gift to me, a MuVo, a little digital audio player that'll let me carry the music of a few albums with me and still a significant hunk of whatever book I'm listening to. After istening to most of Peter Carey's My Life as a Fake (Think Mary Shelly's Frankenstein with poetry instead of science) in fits and starts on CD, I listened to the last two hours or so of it in practically an afternoon (of stripping paint, naturally). Now I'm onto Bob Dylan's autobiography, read by Sean Penn. Cool stuff, in a handy, lightweight package.

Rob

1,001

This blog's hit counter broke a thousand today. Granted, I know it's generally the same dozen of you coming back day after day, but I have to say, it makes me feel good. So in honor of the thousand hits, I'm going to post a thousand times today...

Heh. Screw that. I'm gonna play some D&D instead. And drink deep of this heady wine of the merest scintilla of scant signifigance. Here's to the next thousand!

Honestly, though, it was a relief. I thought the blog counter might roll over, and airplanes would fall from the sky and banks would lose all their data, that sort of thing. But looking around after this momentous and perilous milestone, nothing has changed.

I remain,

Eric

Sorry to see him go

Dave Barry is retiring from his column...at least for a little while.

It's been a while since I'd read one of his columns. It looks like the Herald has a decent archive if you sign up.

Rob

Too Cool

In my book, this is the best comic-book movie news since the Sin City trailer looked so cool: Natalie Portman will be playing Evey in the V for Vendetta movie this fall. This is an amazing Alan Moore story that got completely overshadowed by Swamp Thing and Watchmen. There's a teaser image here.

Rob

Will Eisner's Last Book

The last book Will Eisner completed promises to be an interesting one. It's called The Plot, and it will be out in May, I think. It's a rebuttal in graphic novel form to The Protocols of the Elders of Zion, a book writen by Russian anti-semites as a hoax, purporting it to be details of the secret Jewish plot to rule the world.

Eisner was very concerned about antisemitism, and discovered that this debunked book was being peddled to people in Muslim nations as the truth. After writing and drawing The Plot, Eisner was arranging to have it translated into Arabic.

It's on my list, believe me.

Rob

Will Eisner, Rest in Peace

Let me start by saying: I’m a dunce. If someone means a lot to you, whether you know them or not, you should tell them. And even if you think you have a good reason to, don’t wait. They won’t always be around to hear it.

Will Eisner didn’t invent comics. He just made them better, in almost every conceivable way.

Eisner began working in comics in 1936, and soon formed the Eisner-Iger studios with his partner, Jerry Iger. They produced tons of comic strips, hiring such talents as Jack Kirby and Bob Kane. But he became best known after he left the studio to publish a comics supplement for newspapers, featuring a new creation, The Spirit.

The Spirit isn’t as famous as Superman or Batman, or even that longjohnny-come-lately, Spider-Man. But he had a superpower none of the others had. He had Will Eisner.

With the Spirit comics (7- or 8-page stories that ran from 1939 to 1952), Eisner didn’t exactly break all the rules of comics to that point. Instead, he wrote the rules. Eisner’s sense of staging, of pacing, of subject matter, of darn near everything set examples for everyone who followed. Since the Spirit was a newspaper supplement instead of a comics magazine, Eisner knew that his work was being read by adults as much or possibly more than by children. So he wrote and drew for adults, with sophistication rarely seen in contemporary comics, all the while telling action-packed, or funny, or spooky tales that any kid would enjoy.

Years later, after leaving The Spirit to produce commercial comics for groups such as the Army, RCA Records, and the Baltimore Colts, he came back to the mainstream comics world. But instead of working on the 22-page magazines, he wrote and drew a book called A Contract With God. (It’s been called “the first graphic novel,” and while it may not be a novel – it’s four short stories – it was certainly one of the first in the format.) Since then, he’s continued to produce great works in the field, including two instructional works (Comics and Sequential Art and Graphic Storytelling) and a host of wonderful generational sagas. He never retired; a new book, The Plot, will be published by W.W. Norton this year. He’s a master. He’s THE master.

And now he’s gone. He died on Monday night at age 87, from complications stemming from his heart surgery late last year. And I never told him how impressed I am with his achievements, and how grateful I am for all he’s done. Comics would be a dreary place without Will Eisner. In so many ways, he led the way.

Which is why, when I wrote my book on Lewis and Clark a couple of years ago, the dedication read: “This book is dedicated to Will Eisner, a pioneer of the imagination.” He blazed a trail that has fascinated me since before I even knew who he was.

But me, I procrastinate. I let things slide. I held off on sending it to him for all sorts of reasons. I figured I would hand the book to him at a convention. I wanted to tell him personally. But I didn’t, in person or in a letter. And now he’s gone.

Or rather, he’s dead. Dead but not gone. His work lives on. The works of those he inspired continues. And other work will begin, of those will inspire tomorrow.

Thank you, Will.

Rob

Weekend of Weddings

As we do every year, Kathy and I had a great time at Sharon and Andrew’s New Year’s Eve party; I don’t have much more to say, except thanks, of course, to our gracious hosts, and Happy New Year to all who weren’t there. Especially if you couldn’t be there because you were sick or in prison… I mean, Indiana. Pistola Grande!

Since then, though, it’s been a weekend of weddings—on film, anyway. Kathy and I wound down our New Year’s Day by watching About Schmidt on DVD. It’s a quietly funny sad movie about a lonely guy (Jack Nicholson) who retires, soon becomes a widower, and decides to road-trip to Denver in his Winnebago to stop his daughter from marrying a guy who he’s certain in no good for her. I don’t really know what to say about it. There are some great scenes – Kathy Bates is particularly funny as the free-spirit mother of the groom – but the movie as a whole is more affecting than entertaining. It made me think about where I want to be when I retire, and what I want to have accomplished. That’s probably better than simple entertainment, and definitely appropriate for the first of the year.

Today, continuing our Alexander Payne mini film festival, Kathy and I went to see a matinee of Sideways. It’s a terrific movie. Paul Giamatti plays Miles, a frustrated novelist taking a bachelor’s-last-week trip to California’s wine country with his soon-to-be-married college roommate Jack, played by Thomas Hayden Church. Miles is a depressed wine lover, and Jack is an unrepentant horndog who want to get them both laid before he’s married. It’s the plot of a TON of movies, but Giamatti, Church and costars Virginia Madsen and Sandra Oh bring such humanity to their roles that you can’t help but love it. It’s a terrific movie, buoyed by a terrific jazz soundtrack.

Once we got home, we watched an episode of Teen Titans on the tube – one in which Starfire is called back to her home planet to be married to an alien creature resembling a cross between an green elephant and a gob of mucus, all to prevent an interplanetary war. Not one of the best eps, but it kept the theme rolling.

Using the show to start a new theme, Kathy and I played a game of The Awful Green Things from Outer Space, in which she soundly kicked my ass. And when I say that, I mean it was a freakin’ rout. But it’s a fun two-player game, and worth seeking out.

And that’s this month’s “Reviews of Stuff I Did Today, Roughly.” I hope your new year’s had as pleasant a start.

UPDATED: Kathy wanted me to add the she kicked everyone's butt in what might be the longest game of Deadwood ever the day before. Trounced us, really. This is looking like her year, gamewise. (Maybe she should come to Vegas with me this month after all!)

Rob

No Matter Where You Go...

...there you are. And here it is: after 20 years, a sequel (in comic book form) to Buckaroo Banzai, written by Buckaroo's creator, Earl Mac Rauch.

I know some of ye gotta be happy about this.

Rob