Secret Ten: Comic Blog Showdown!

I'm going to reveal my Meme of the Secret Ten choices little by little, in case anyone other than Ami wants to play. (C'mon, folks! Right now the only person pulling my strings is one somewhat hyperactive Canadian! That's not just bad for the meme: It's bad for America. Show some national pride! Add a question in the comments here or in the first meme post.)

So rather than takle Ami's first question, I'm going for this one:

3 and 10 start separate comic blogs, what would they blog about, would any of their blogs show up on WFA, and would they ever get into a flame war and troll each other? xD

Oh yes. Oh yes they would.

First off, #3, "Steven Colbert" (the persona he plays on his show, rather than the guy himself) would start up his own Tek Jansen fanblog under a ghost name, JansenFan64. It would start getting massive hits once Colbert himself recommended the site on his show. Things would be going fine, thanks to all his readers -- "the Heroes" -- posting a lot of fawning comments on the blog.

And then #10 would show up. Writing only as tehBastard, the commenter would begin by poking little holes in the Jansen stories, noting how ridiculous they are and how they seem only to be written for Colbert's self-aggrandizement. tehBastard provokes and provokes, eventually driving the Heroes to distraction and JansenFan64 to the point of apoplexy. His comments would get so trenchant, and so vehement, that Colbert himself would "step in," (remember, he's actually been there all along, but this time he's using his real name) calling tehBastard out on the blog. tehBastard accepts his challenge, appearing on a special Colbert Report: Where he's revealed as Spider Jerusalem -- and he in turn reveals Colbert as JansenFan64. The Heroes, of course, dismiss Jerusalem as an America-hating tattooed freak from the future. But shortly thereafter, JansenFan64 retires from the blogosphere, looking for a less acrimonious venue, like cable news.

When Fangirls Attack links as they deem necessary -- they're never ones to shy away from a car wreck on their side of the street.

***

Whaddya think, sirs? I'll try to post one of these a day, holidays permitting (Christmas is sprawling over 3 days for me this year). So feel free to send me more ideas!

Rob

Surprise, Surprise!

My Angola book shipped; I got my comps in the mail today. I swear, sometimes I forget I'm an author. It genuinely slips my mind.

Rob

Putting the Sub in Subway

I heard on the traffic & transit report on the radio this morning that the B & D lines were suspended.

I didn't know there were B&D trains! I'll have to grab a studded collar and ball gag and head on down.

Rob

Oh, I've Got a Brand-New Engine Coolant Cap

...You've got a brand-new key.

Judging from the driving I've done in these past few days, including circling the Woodbridge Mall parking lot for 15-20 minutes, it seems like my car is finally fixed. No boiling coolant, no leaky fluid, no overheating engine.

And what did the trick? Not the new radiator (though that was damaged in the initial occurence and had to be replaced), nor the new tubing. Instead, what I needed was a new cap on the coolant reservoir to better keep things pressurized. The higher the air pressure, the higher the boiling point. Simple physics, as anyone who's ever hard-boiled an egg in Denver could tell you.

But believe me when i say, my Christmas is looking a thousand times merrier than it had been, thanks to a five-dollar piece of equipment.

Rob

Ho Ho Hurrrkkk!

A nice little train ride home, at 10:30 last night. I caught one of NJ Transit's fairly new double decker trains -- a rare treat for me. Plus, I had new comics to read; always a plus. And there were some tween girls a few seats ahead of me, every now and then singing Christmas carols, but not being obnoxious about it. They wore reindeer antlers. It was nice.

Then, as the train stopped in Newark, someone either stepped onto the train and started vomiting, or just sat there and started vomiting. However it happened, we couldn't see him; we could only hear. Loud, heaving...um, heaving. The entire upper deck of the train cringed as a single unit.

Eventually the heaving stopped; the people would could see out the windows said the guy was escorted off the train.

As we got moving again, the conductor walked up into our car, and said "I bet you all could hear that."

"The whole train could hear it," someone said.

"Well, I'll say one thing for the guy," said the conductor. "He sure chews his food well."

Rob

Mute Garfield

I don't know if I've ever posted this here before, but I recently rediscovered the joys of Mute Garfield. Some folks on a message board removed the thought balloons from Garfield strips -- rendering them tiny vignettes about a pathetic man and his hateful cat. And also the funniest thing ever.


Rob

War on Chipmas

Jim the Bastard chronicles the latest dipshittery at the office. A bunch a cut-ups, we are.

Rob

Today's Political Ad

"It's almost as if you don't want Hillary Clinton to be President." Priceless.

Rob

Meme of the Secret Ten

Okay, I found a new meme on Ami's blog:

I'm gonna make a list of 10 characters, it is a secret list. If you want, comment to this post with a question like, "2 and 8 have a dance off, who wins?" and then I answer them in a seperate post and it is the most fun meme ever. And you can ask as many questions as you like.

Sounds like a lot of fun to me. As with my last 10 characters meme, you can expect these characters from anywhere. Ask away in the comments. I'll be posting answers above.

Rob

Remember

It's Monkey Tuesday.

Rob

For All You Bone-heads

Jeff Smith talks about his upcoming comic, RASL, at Newsarama. It starts in February.

Rob

A Seperate Peace?

It looks like David Letterman's production company, Worldwide Pants, will be striking an interim deal with the WGA. Mark Evanier considers the implications.

Rob

Rassafrazzin...

After three trips to the shop, my car's coolant continues to boil.


As does my blood.

Rob

Unpack That Box

And now, the first in another irregular series that I may never revisit: Favorite TV Scenes. This week: The West Wing.

Since there's not much new TV on, I've been powering through the first season of The West Wing lately. There's a scene at the midpoint of the season that I've seen a few times now, and I love every time.

The lead-up is: Over the past few episodes, we've learned that a Republican congressman has gotten his hands on confidential files that reveal that not only is the President's chief of staff Leo McGarry (the terrific John Spencer) a recovering alcoholic (already well-known in beltway circles), but that he underwent treatment for an addiction to painkillers. This has been making waves behind the scenes, and will undoubtedly cause more trouble for McGarry and the Bartlett administration in the months ahead. Earlier in this episode ("Take Out the Trash Day"), Karen Larson (Liza Weil) the young staffer who leaked the information has been identified, and told in no uncertain terms to clean out her desk.

In the episode's final scene, she enters Leo's office at the end of the day. Leo had sent for her, becuase he wanted to meet her, and wanted her to meet him. He asks her what went through her mind when she read his personnel file. She explains that her father was an alcoholic; Leo's was, too. As they talk, Leo explains about his addictions, but that he hasn't had a drink for six years. And he asks about her motivations for leaking his information.

She replies, "My father, he --" and then cuts herself off, restating her answer. She talks about how many decisions he had to make, and how many people depend on those decisions every day. We don't know what she was going to say about her father, but our intuition leads us into some dark places. Whatever decisions he made were the wrong ones.

Leo understands this. His career, and all the goals and ideals he's worked for, have been put in jeopardy by her actions. He tells her, "Karen, what you did caused a lot of problems; for me, for the President, and for a lot of people we don't even know about," a sideways referral to a sex-education report the President agreed to sit on for a year to avoid a hearing for McGarry. "But I'm not sure it wasn't a little bit brave."He tells her to unpack her carton of personal items, and the two of them can give each other another chance.

It's an act of forgiveness that really demonstrates the quality of Leo's character. She might have ruined his career. That remains to be seen. But she did it out of loyalty to her country, and a genuine conviction, born of personal experience, that it was the right thing to do. And he won't see her punished for that.

It's a great scene, from a standout season.

Rob

Sigh...

Dreamed I had hair last night. That's never happened before...

And damn, it looked good, too.

Rob

Spooky!

Chris A. just sent me this lightbulb commercial from Thailand.* Chris is a man who knows the funny: You'll want to watch it.



Rob
*Chris is not in Thailand.

I Won't Hear Better News Today

Darwyn Cooke & Co. are putting out a 48-page New Frontier Special.


Seriously. My favorite writer/artist returning to my favorite story of this past decade. That ain't sauerkraut.

Rob

Hoo-Rah for Illness!

Stopped into a meeting today. Dropped 1.8 pounds in the last two weeks. That's the empty weight of this US GI-issue tactical load-bearing vest, although who knows how much it would weigh if it contained enough pixels for a decent resolution. But in these last weeks, I've enjoyed Thai food, turkey-stuffing leftover sandwiches, a street-vendor hotdog with mustard and relish, and, just yesterday, copious amounts of peanut butter and a late-night bowl of ice cream (for the sore throat, naturally). And—oh yes—several of your Christmas cookies. So I can only chalk this up to a little bit o' sick, and generally having internalized some decent eating habits. Which is good news, any way ya wanna slice it.

Also: I finally flipped the odometer, with my weight going into another range of tens. Meaning I lose a daily point per week. Now that I'm back on the horse, I oughta take that seriously. (shudder)

Rob

Craptastic!

For your viewing pleasure (and because Jim the Bastard asked me how to spell "tchotchkes" this morning): Behold! The Great American Tchotchke Peepshow!

Rob

Out of the Loop

Stayed home today. Hopefully a day without speaking will bring my voice back. I finished up enough things at work last night that I would be...not necessarily superfluous to the remaining ship, but at least not essential to having it go smoothly.

I called in, and it sounds like it has. But it's weird being out of the loop like this while there's any crunch time still crunching.

Rob

I just got new glasses!

There are all sorts of things I can read at a distance now!

(Like minds...and you should be ashamed of yourself!)

Rob

Make Your Tuesday

...a Monkey Tuesday.

News of the Jaw-Droppingly Awesome

Apparently last night, Bill Clinton was heckled by a robot.

And this robot has been harboring a robot grudge for fifteen years... about Sister Souljah.

Here's an excerpt from Hotline's report:

About seven minutes into the former president’s fourth speech of the day, the man stood on a chair on the press riser and shouted that robots wanted Clinton to say he was sorry for statements he made 15 years ago.

"Bill Clinton, I want you to apologize to Sister Souljah. Robots of the world want you to apologize to Sister Souljah. We want you to apologize,” the man said as one observer gasped "Oh my God.”

A volunteer demanded to know who had let him in and the audience heckled the heckler with boos and screams of "Get out of here!” He then threw dozens of orange, green, hot pink and yellow cards into the air. A woman yanked what appeared to be a microphone out of the man’s hands, and he was escorted out of the room without further incident.

The cards read: "Robots are mad at Bill. MR-IFOBCA stands for Mad Robots In Favor Of Bill Clinton Apologizing. Mr. Ifobca says, "Bill Clinton should be ashamed of himself for slandering a Black woman named Sister Souljah," followed by a website address (www.Mr-Ifobca.org). Posted on the site is a "manifesto" entitled “"Why Did I Bum Rush Bill Clinton?”

Remember, robots are strong. And when they grab you with their metal claws, you can't break free.

UPDATE: At the bottom of the manifesto us this disclaimer: "NOTE: MR. IFOBCA (Mad Robots In Favor Of Bill Clinton Apologizing) IS NOT RELATED TO, OR ENDORSED BY, MR. ROBOTO." Sweeet.

UPDATE 2: There's now video of the robot...and what a profoundly disappointing robo-specimen he is. He looks more like an German bike messenger. Now is the time on Sprokets when we protest!

Rob

(Unintelligible Grunt)

Sick as a wreck today. Last night my cloudy mind dreamt of Barack Obama trying to get permission to tether a blimp over Hartnett's, the five-and-dime of my youth. Came in to work anyway today to infect all of New York ship the magazine.

Gotta get done. Then rest.

Rob

They Smile In Your Face...

...and all the time they wanna take your place.

No, I'm not talking about the Backstabbers, although the O'Jays lay down the most infectious of grooves, so much so that I wind up singing their song whenever I pop a DVD of The Sandbaggers into my player. Family members know I'll sing anything at any occasion. Pity Kathy.

No, The Sandbaggers is a terrific British TV show from the late 70s and early 80s about Britain's Special Operations Unit, led by blunt, anti-charismatic Neil Burnside (played by Roy Marsden). It was created by Ian MacIntosh, a Royal Navy lieutenant-commander who possibly was in the british secret service. Sadly, he is presumed dead after an 1979 airplane accident as season 3 was shooting. The series ended after that. (I'm still watching Season 2, so don't tell me what happens next!)

I first heard about The Sandbaggers in interviews with Greg Rucka, author of Queen and Country, an excellent graphic novel spy series published by Oni Press (and his Atticus Kodiak novels are even better, in my opinion). Sandbaggers is one of the rare tv shows that Kathy & I don't watch together. It's dry as sandpaper -- too much of it is heated conversations in London offices, and not enough spy derring-do to suit her tastes, I guess. But I love it, possibly for the same reason I love prison movies. Burnside is obviously working within an extremely structured system. He's pressured by his bosses, by the crown, and by the various foreign stations to which he sends his three (ideally...he usually only has two) operatives, called sandbaggers. Plus, he's pressured by the enemy (either terrorists or the KGB) and even the CIA, with whom British intelligence has a "special relationship" which no one wants to jeopardize, even if the two agencies might be at odds now and then. Just like a prison movie, I like to see what Burnside can do to fight the system from within it. How can he do what he needs to while he's jumping through all those hoops?

Another way of looking at it is a combination of 24 and The West Wing. It's not just a successful mission that's important, but a success that's politically successful as well. It can be immensely frustrating -- Burnside doesn't always win, and he sometimes sabotages himself with his own acrid personality. But if it grips you -- and Kathy's reaction tells me that that might be a crapshoot -- if it grips you, it carries you right along on its tense, obsessive journey.

Rob

I Can See the Floor From Here

After months -- okay, years -- of tarps and dropcloths being draped over some furniture as we stripped and sanded the molding around the floors and windows (with something like 3 different grits of steel wool for the stripping, then three more grits of sandpaper, and I'm older just thinking about it), we've finally moved on. Today, I pulled the tarps off and we moved the furniture out of the room so I could take up all the padding on the floor. I'm not quite done with the floor...but it's recognizably a room again, and not a big pile of ghostly junk.

Progress. I'd almost forgotten what it looked like.

Rob

No Time To Blog Today

(more lol president here.)

Rob

I was going to save this observation for next Monkey Tuesday...

...but "Mandrill" would be a great name for a gay bar.

Rob

...at least it's an ethos!

While checking out the Hulk's to-do list (thanks Doc!) I stumbled onto the blogger's socio-political-breakfast critique of The Big Lebowski.

It's worth a look.

Rob

Car Update

Looks like there was a faulty hose running from my brand-new radiator. Now that's fixed, and hopefully all is well. Gotta ride this baby till the wheels fall off. (Note to self: Tighten
wheels.)

Rob

Plans for Next Year

Patrick Stewart.

Macbeth.

Brooklyn.

Feb 12 to March 22.

Who's in?

Rob

What an asshole.

"Freedom requires religion just as religion requires freedom....Freedom and religion endure together, or perish alone." - Mitt Romney

Seriously, Mr. Romney:


Sincerely,

Rob

Two Blocks Away From Jay & Silent Bob's Secret Stash

I can't help it. I lurrrve local commercials, with their cheesy special effects, oddball sense of humor, and accents you don't hear anywhere else on TV. I saw a truncated (30-second) version of this one (for a somewhat local hobby shop) during tonight's Countdown and had to rewind it twice to make sure my eyes and ears weren't deceiving me. Glorious insanity.



She's holding the train right in front of her eyes! I can't get over that!

Rob

Why do we never get an answer when we're knocking at the door?

Somehow I missed this: Part five of Vicsage.com's Greg Rucka Question interview.

Linking now, so I can read later.

Rob

I Need Happymaking!

Ugh.

After a long night of D&D this Friday, we pulled off the turnpike on our way home and noticed that a) my check gauges light was on; b) there was a funny smell; c) my car's hood was smoking; and d) my temperature gauge was through the roof. So we pulled into the driveway, opened the hood, and found coolant all over.

The next day we refilled the coolant and drove it to our mechanic. He replaced the radiator on Monday, and that was that.

That's what I was hoping, anyway. I noticed a strange, fishy smell as I pulled into the driveway after work last night, but thought nothing of it. This morning, as I was climbing floor after floor of my parking garage, I heard some sort of grinding sound. I opened the hood once I parked (missing my train as I looked), and noticed, yes, coolant leaking all over. I restarted the car briefly, and the temperature gauge was nearing the danger zone.

Whatever the busted radiator was, it didn't bust on its own. It was a symptom of some other problem. Hopefully that will be fixed tomorrow, and I can drive this car a while further down the road.

Until then, I need happymaking.

Rob

Ook! Ook!

What was I thinking? Enough of sharks!


It's Monkey Tuesday! Have a mandrill!

Rob

Shark Update

In a rare fit of industry, I've detoothed the beast, removing the storm door as soon as I got home before it smashed itself against our house. (Low winds today, I guess; otherwise I doubt I'd have had the chance.)

Mostly, I used a screwdriver. But that final stubborn screw called for a different tool.

Yeah! How'd ya guess?

Rob

Freaking Out The Mundies

I like to gross people out as I step into elevators. From about 20 seconds ago:

"Yeah, I'm taking a week off for Christmas. It's such a crunch now that..."

(Elevator door opens, and Andre & I step on, amid riders from above.)

"...I'm gonna take a week off, saw off the top of my head and let my brain leak into the sink."

So refreshing, it's like a Peppermint Patty.

Rob

Today's Mood: A One-Picture Rebus

Rob
(Jim the Bastard, of course, has more.)

A House Like a Shark

A few years ago, playing Dungeons and Dragons, my character was swallowed by a giant shark. I had to cut myself out to escape (and then promptly popped back inside the beast to fight it from within, where it couldn't bite me).

Tomorrow morning, I'm going to have to cut myself out of our house.

Our storm door has been kinda broken for a while--it doesn't close right--but in today's winds, it got ridiculous. It's been flapping open, banging against the wall all night, and it's only going to get worse. So, as a temporary measure, we've tied the storm door to the main door to keep it closed.

Naturally, to open this door tomorrow morning, I'm going to have to deal with the twine. And I already know I won't have the patience to untie the knot tomorrow morning before work. So I'll be cutting myself free, while the snapping jaws of my storm door go for my head.

Rob

To Our Dear Friends and Family,

Even as you read this, I am most likely stealing one of your Christmas cookies.

So sorry!

Warmest Holiday Wishes,

Rob

Doctor, Doctor

I'd heard about this a while ago, but hadn't gotten around to watching it until now: A short (8-minute) episode of Doctor Who in which the current David Tennant regeneration meets my favorite of the early batch, Peter Davison. Have some celery! Enjoy!



Rob

Lighter Than Air

I see angels on Ariels in leather and chrome
Swooping down from heaven, to carry me home.


One of my childhood heroes passed away today.

Rest in peace, Evel.

Rob

Will Dream For Food

Last night I dreamt I was hired to write a short biography of Marie Osmond for $250. Just a page or two, to be read on the radio. All night in my dreams, I tried to recall as much as I could about her, and really worked out, sentence by sentence, how this biography was going to go. It was work, and I didn't feel rested at all until I had another dream in which the Martian Manhunter was chasing me through an office building (I lost him in the elevator shaft).

Anyway, when I woke up I felt like I'd been stiffed out of $250, and I haven't been able to shake the feeling all day. I went to an optometrist and bought new glasses, and I thought "My Osmond money would just about cover that, if they'd ever friggin' pay me."

Rob

Back to the Cult

I made it to another meeting this week -- my first in two weeks, since I skipped the one right before Thanksgiving. The week prior, I weighed in at two pounds higher than the week before, and wound up in a black mood for days. As Dan Bern sang,

Some wild creature has taken command
I gave him the keys
And he's stomping through the house
He has a very busy itinerary
He does not have much time for You.

Those lines always come to mind when I get into my ugly, self-absorbed moods, which thankfully don't come too often. (Usually I have pleasant, self-absorbed moods.)

Anyway, I stepped onto the scale today expecting a modest to enormous gain, what with Thanksgiving dinner, the reunion, the gallon of gin that I drank...and found out that I'd lost a pound. Which is awesome and unexpected. My only explanation is that it must've been some sort of magical bird my mom cooked up.

Could it have been the one that appears about a minute into this video? I think it was.



(And really, how bout that video? Could I tie things up any better?) The world is one big circle. Ouroboros, baby.)

Rob

Sammich Update (Like You Care)

Less than a block away from my original shop, I found a breakfast nook that will sell me an egg-white sandwich with hot sauce on toast for a buck seventy five, no tax. With more egg whites than the other place!














Take that, evil egg manager!

Rob

...Is the Hardest Part

Screw you, Andy Warhol. I want my comics today!

Rob

Ooh, That Smell.

Apparently I wasn't the only one to note the smell in the basement lounge of the bar I was in last weekend. A few work buddies were there last night, and I'm told that one of them remarked, "It smells like date rape down here."

That trumps my description, without sacrificing a jot of accuracy.

Rob

She's the One

We had our benefits meeting at work today. You know: health, dental, vision insurance, the whole deal. And one of the questions I (some would say wisely) neglected to ask was:

If you get a tooth stuck in your eye, would that be covered under the dental plan or the vision plan?

When I got home from work, I presented this poser to my wife. And I'm happy to say, her line of reasoning was exactly the same as my own:

"That depends on whose tooth it is."

Ah, baby.









Rob

Long Overdue Linkage

Have a few additions to the blogrolls here—blogs that for some reason I’ve overlooked despite me visiting them fairly regularly.

In the Pals & Gals section, I realized I missed a couple in the vast influx of my online buddies from a few months ago. First of all, Howard Bagby just restarted his blog, In Purple I’m Stunning. (Okay, it’s a restart, so maybe I didn’t overlook it after all, but I'm certainly glad to hear from him again.) Then there’s the only one of these friends I’ve met in real life. So give a big hand to Mike Parnell, pastor, comic reader, and all around good guy, blogging at On Further Up the Road: Musings on the Journey. There’s so many of these online buds now that I should probably give them their own section. Ah, linkshuffling.

Probably my biggest oversight is not linking to Brenda Tremblay’s blog until now. I’ve gone on vacation with Brenda and her family for several years now, and we went from being strangers to friends in what seemed like a matter of minutes. We met on a big group vacation—four families in one house. A risky venture that could easily have ended in disaster. And yet—everything worked. Grownups, kids—we all clicked. Just when you think you’re done making new friends…wham. (And Brenda, I haven’t forgotten I owe you a blog post on the similarities between comic book and classical music outreach.)

Then there are the folks I haven’t met. In the comics section, there’s Mike of Are You Feeling Big Mike? He only posts about once a week, but his posts are provocative and always worth reading.

And finally, I’ve been meaning to add Johnny B’s Solar Prestige a Gammon to my sidebar, since I’ve been having such a great time checking in on his examinations of every Elton John song from before he was replaced with a pod person under a toupee.

As Lyle Lovett sings, there’s more I remember, and more I could mention…but these’ll have to do for now.

Rob

Mute Haitian

This came up at work a few days ago: Is anyone else tired of everyone calling the Haitian mindwipe guy on Heroes "The Haitian"? Sure, maybe he's made them all forget his name -- but he lets them remember where he's from? I don't buy it. And what will they do if another Haitian joins the cast? Something's gotta give.

How on earth does everyone know he's Haitian, anyway? He hardly says a word, so his accent is no use, and he looks like he's from L.A. But they all call him "the Haitian," because otherwise they'd be calling him "that black guy...no, the creepy one."

Seriously, give him a name already. And use it.

The Pennsylvanian

Taking 20

(In which, try as I might, I somehow can't avoid sounding like a Wonder Years voiceover.)

Class reunions are the type of event that tend to call up unreasonable feelings of dread in people. I mentioned I was going to my twentieth high school reunion last week, and my co-workers generally told me to have fun and wished me luck. I think the luck remark comes mainly because I am old, and most of them are amazed that I can make it to work and back without breaking a hip.

But “good luck” is also code for “try to have a good time, you sorry, sorry, sad, sorry fool, walking blithely into the jaws of death, embarrassment, and lingering teenageism.” A lotta folks didn’t have a good time in high school, I guess.

I dunno. Looking back, I think I navigated those years pretty well. They weren’t my wild years—those were either college, post-college, or somewhere ahead of me, once I shave a few seconds off these bank-heist time tests—but I sure as hell had fun, and managed to sidestep any lasting mistakes. And I made a bunch of good friends that stuck with me, most of whom I was lucky enough to see at the reunion.

Problem is, I didn’t see nearly enough of them that night, since there were so many other people to see that I’d lost touch with in the interim. At the outset, four hours seemed like a decent period of time – but I could’ve gone longer. There was enough time for brief catch-ups, and no time for hanging out. And then, WHAM! The lights were up, and we were blinking our eyes and hauling our drunken asses out the door and hopefully into a passenger seat.

It was great to see my regular buddies, but man, was it good to see all those familiar faces, not looking as old as I’d feared. I heard this line in a play once, and try to live by it: “Friends are great, but to lead a truly interesting life, you must have strangers.” Even so – it’s really nice to see in those strangers the faces of old friends.

Rob

Note: None of this could have happened without the tireless efforts and enthusiasm of Debbie, Laurel and Bill. Thanks for putting this on, guys -- it was fantastic!

Haunting at 45 RPMs

The other night, as we were getting dressed in my old attic bedroom in my Mom's house to go to my 20th high school reunion, I played a few of my old singles for Kathy. 45s, that is, kids. Records.

Not that these were records I was listening to in high school. Those were albums, and for the most part had made the move to our house in New Jersey. No, these were singles I had picked up used, two for a quarter, at our middle school book sale before I knew anything at all about what kind of music I liked. I chose them on the strength of their titles -- anything that promised spies, science fiction, or the supernatural was in. So I was the proud owner of Steppenwolf's "Jupiter Child," Alan O'Day's "Undercover Angel," and the Who's "Dr. Jeckyll and Mr. Hyde."

And man, did I ever play that song when I was a kid. A John Entwistle tune from 1968, it grabbed me from what I still consider to be an excellent first line: "Someone is spending my money for me."

Now, the orchestration on this baby is hokey (Daltrey and Townsend singing backup with falsetto ba-ba-ba-ba-ba-ba's), and I have to say that the record itself had seen better days, as it warped from its attic storage. But it was still a thrill hearing this song that somehow had a hand in forming me. Entwistle, always prone to a way-out song (see "My Wife") is probably my favorite Who member, as these things go. I didn't realize he'd written "Dr. Jeckyll and Mr. Hyde," but upon reflection, who else could've?

"Whenever you're with me, make sure it's still me..." Not bad advice for us mercurial folk.

Rob

Outright Thievery, I Tell You! I Should Be Ashamed!

I've sat on this for about a week, figuring I'd have more to say about these links I first found on Johanna Draper-Carlson's Comics Worth Reading blog. But, it turns out... no. No, I have very little else to say. But in light of the fact that most of my family and friends don't read comics blogs of any sort, I'm just grabbin' the links and running as fast as my floppy Hamburglar feet can carry me.

I first was introduced to The Nails' song "88 Lines About 44 Women" (listen here, albeit to a version they recorded later) on a mix tape my friend Chris made for me. And I loved it like the crazy dating history I never had.* (The tape also had a Peter-Gunn sounding version of Jonathan Richman's "Pablo Picasso," another song that thrilled me to the core.)

Anyway, an enterprising soul with the handle Slipjig rewrote the lyrics as "88 Lines About 44 Fangirls." And it is awesome.

So listen, read, and try not to recognize anyone. (And thanks again, Johanna!)

Rob

*I'm also quite fond of my own crazy dating history--but it doesn't hold a candle to "88 Lines."

My Wife Has Made a Pie.

This pie.
















This apple pie.















For Thanksgiving, she says. At your mother's, she says.

And yet...





...
























...






I'm trying to convince her of the importance of a "test pie."

So far, she's not biting.















So far, neither am I.

Rob

You Want Your King Cake When?

I just realized I should start getting this information out into the world:

Our annual Mardi Gras party is normally the Saturday before Mardi Gras (and Ash Wednesday); this year we've got to postpone it until after Mardi Gras, because I'll be in Vegas for a trade show on Mardi Gras day, and we won't have enough time to get the party together the weekend after I return. So the party will be a week and a half after Mardi Gras, on Saturday, February 16. Which is also the Saturday after Valentine's day, so there's that. But if we push the Mardi Gras party any closer to Easter, Jesus will kick my ass. It's pretty much sacrelige as it stands.

Anyway, I'm hoping we can whip up some decent revelry despite the post-Ash Wednesday date. Just don't give up partyin' for Lent and y'all should be fine.

Rob

All Choked Up

A short, touching webcomic by an IGN member and Onesound.

(Mom, you'll like this.)

Rob

Behold! Something Awesome From 1935!

Robert Benchley's short film, How To Sleep:



I can't remember where Kathy & I first saw this, but I dig it so.

Rob

Egg FU

My usual breakfast stop has changed managership (as a lot of immigrant-run businesses do; I think person A goes back to the old country while person B takes the reins here, and then vice-versa -- or should I say Visa versa?) and has decided to raise the price on my egg-white & hot sauce sandwich (at first offering the specious claim that two egg whites cost more than two eggs, and then just flat-out telling me I'm not paying enough). So, I'm pricing egg-white sandwiches, to see if I can get one cheaper than $2. I'll show them... I'll show them all!

Rob

Caucasiclysm

Downstairs at an NYC bar, in a room that smelled of cologne and desperation, the dance music suddenly gave way to Journey's "Don't Stop Believin'." Suddenly, the room was united in people pumping their fists in the air, throwing their heads back and singing in that heartfelt Steve Perry way.

A knot of dread grew in my stomach. I knew we had to leave.

Rob

Happiness Meme of Happy Happiness

So a while ago, Ami tagged me with the Happiness Meme of Happy Happiness, or something like that. The rules are simple, and I reproduce them here for your edification:

The rules are simple. Just create a post about any number of things that have made you happy recently. Then tag any number of people and have them post this meme on their blogs.

I told you the rules were simple. What I didn’t tell you was that the simple rules were simple enough to proclaim their own simplicity. Ouroboros, baby. Simple enough.

I’ve decided to do this post today not because I’m particularly happy. Actually, I’ve been in a black mood for the past couple days. I’m hoping this can break that up.

Here goes.

1) I think I’ve got a really good D&D game coming up tonight. I’m particularly proud of a horrible incident that should set the stage for the carnage to come.

2) Fables. Month-in and month-out, there’s no comic that’s so consistently enthralling. It’s the best comic on the stands today, bar none. Every issue has a surprise, but every surprise is, in its own way, inevitable.

3) I just closed another issue of my magazine. Ahhh...

4) I just loaded Patton Oswalt’s new comedy album onto my mp3 player. Comedy is always happy-making, and Oswalt’s one of the best right now. I’ll start listening when I pick up my lunch.

5) One of the reasons I’m so gloomy is that I gave up my credit cards a couple of months ago, and I realized my former Christmas gift strategy (blissfully charge it) no longer applies. But I realized something good and meaningful I can give to Kathy for Christmas and not feel like I’m totally cheaping out (even though she knows my situation and has already assured me she needs nothing). I’m set, and while it’ll take some effort, it’s a load off my mind.

6) For the past couple weeks, I’ve been seeing pages of my first full-length comic book story sent to me via pdf. (Yes, I buried the lede.) They look fantastic, and I can’t wait to dialogue them. (Nothing’s been announced yet, so I’m keeping mum online, and may have to for quite a while. Sorry.)

7) My 20th high-school reunion is next Friday. I’ll be seeing a bunch of friends I’m still in touch with but rarely see, and hopefully a few that I’ve lost touch with completely.

8) Busy as it’s making me at the moment, I *am* going to Vegas for a business trip in February. That’ll be nice, when it comes.

9) My wife, Kathy. She melts my bad moods away like no one ever has.

Rob
(And my tags? Andrew, Jeri (when hibernation's over), Jayanada, Travis, and Jeff.)

Just back from the pet store...

... and I've gotta ask: Why are there small bags of pet litter? The brand of litter we buy comes in three bags of different sizes. Are people hoping their pets will just decide to use the toilet any day now? Or is it for pessimists? "Well, Mister Whiskers is on his last legs. I'm moving to small bags."

The pooping never stops. You gotta face that fact if you're gonna own a pet.

Rob

This is How I Serve the Common Man

Sure, embedding a Coen Brothers tribute ain't much, but it's what I got right now.



I've seen all but one of these movies, and The Man Who Wasn't There is right downstairs.

Rob

A Boot Full of Blood

A train was stuck in the tunnel that connects Penn Station to New Jersey at rush hour tonight. No sense griping in these situations, and waiting around only gets you frustrated, and then onto the most crowded train you've ever been on in your life. So I delayed my commute and went to see a movie. Lemons, meet sugar and water.


I was just able to make* No Country For Old Men, the new Coen Brothers picture, based on a Cormac McCarthy novel. It's tense and terrifying. It concerns a Vietnam vet (Josh Brolin) who finds the carnage after a drug deal gone sour, and a satchel full of money. There's an assassin sent after him, played by Javier Bardem, who's probably the most disconcerting serial killer since Buffalo Bill from Silence of the Lambs. Meanwhile, Tommy Lee Jones plays the aging sheriff piecing the whole case together and fighting his own repulsion by the crimes he faces.

I don't want to say much more yet, but it's certainly one of the best movies I've seen all year -- and one of the Coens' best films, period.

Rob
*Actually, I missed a minute or three of the opening monologue. A perfect reason to see it again!

Manly Diet Tip

I'm not a big fan of the veggies. But lately I've been eating a lot of Sylvia's canned collard greens. They're cooked with smoked turkey, and I add hot sauce to the pot when I heat 'em up. So they're vegetables...

...that taste like MEAT.

It's like they were invented for me. Plus, Kathy doesn't like 'em, so I have leftovers for later!

Rob
(And yes, sooner or later I'll be ambitious enough to make my own. But any obstacle keeping me from eating veggies quickly becomes an excuse, so canned is perfect, lads.)

Dropkick Me, Jesus

We got to see a complete episode of The Amazing Race last night, and I enjoyed it as much as ever. And one team—the married Episcopal ministers—said something I really appreciated: “We’re very religious, of course, but we have no illusions that God cares whether or not we win this.”

Man, that’s a breath of fresh air.

One of the many reasons I don’t watch sports is that I can’t stand—literally have no stomach at all for—anyone who praises Jesus for getting a ball into a net or over a wall or past a chalk line. Because for every guy Jesus “helped” win, there’s a dozen others he did jack-all for. No one ever blames Jesus for letting him get sacked again and again. He’s either on the team or he’s not—and if he is, then the team you’re playing against are obviously infidels. If not by definition, by deduction.

Football becomes a holy war. The winners are right and just and in God’s favor, and the losers are banished from Eden. If Jesus loved them—really loved them—wouldn’t they have made that field goal?

Nah. Keep God out of games. If we can do that, maybe we’ll eventually be mature enough to keep him out of wars, too.

Rob

"Bogus! What's been compromised?"

The original 1994 pilot to 24. Enjoy!



Rob
(via Kevin)

Disgraceful Under Pressure

Here's a 2003 British talk show appearance of Joe Jackson, singing "Awkward Age," one of the best songs on his Volume 4 album, which reunited him with the original Joe Jackson Band. I really love the song -- advice from a middle-aged guy to a teen, fully aware that not all of the social difficulties of growing up ever really disappear. Plus, the second line is "you had a scowl like a Klingon beauty queen," so points for that.



Rob

Pub-lic Service Announcement

A couple of my beery friends have informed me that there is a worldwide hop shortage. It's hitting the homebrew stores first, and will likely affect microbrews next, and then, eventually, the big producers. What this means to my friends is that they aren't able to get the variety or quantity of hops that they like for their beer. What this means for other run-of-the-mill beer consumers is that the big brands (Bud, Coors, Miller, etc.) are likely to get first pick of the hops, meaning smaller brewers will be strapped. Probably they'll opt to bottle less hoppy beers for the near-to-middle future, until the crisis passes. Big companies will likely push out the same sad varieties they always have. But there'll likely be price increases across the board.

So stock up! You never know when you'll need a nice hoppy IPA!

Rob
(Pretending he knows a little about this stuff, but follow my beery friends links and pester them if you want to know more. If they write about it, I'll update my links here. And yes, guys, consider this a request to share your insights about this important topic.)

(As promised, here are Sharon's and Andrew's takes on it.)

Marryin' Weight

One of my interim goals in my weight loss is to get down to what I call "marryin' weight" -- i.e. my weight on the day I was married in April 2003. That's by no means the ultimate goal; I've got a ways to go after that, although I think the weight scientists tell me I should have for my 5'6" frame (115-154 pounds) seems a little pie-in-the-sky (mmm...pie) if not outright foolish. But marryin' weight is a benchmark, albeit one reached the first time with the Atkins excrete-what-you-eat diet. I'm planning to get there via slower, healthier means this time.

However, looking at my scale today, I realize I'm about nine pounds over that weight right now. And it occurs to me that I'm now probably in my "first week after the hard-eatin' honeymoon in Paris" weight. So yay, me!

Gonna take more than a week to get rid of those crepes, though.

Rob

It's time to go home.

I'm so fried right now that I had to check my computer's calendar to see whether it is Thursday or Friday. (It's Friday.) I want my weekend. So I'm going home now and not thinking about anything until I have to think about it again.

Going home. Now.

Rob

Harnessing the Power of Know-it-alls for Good

Kevin Drum passes along advice from Tony Bourdain about how to use the Internet to figure out where to eat in any given city.

I imagine the same advice could be used to elicit comic, movie, play or music recommendations, as well. Let the Snobs work for You!

Rob

Strike at The Office

The WGA strike at The Office:



In related news, Mark Evanier reports that Steve Carell has been calling in sick since the strike began. His ailment? "Enlarged balls."

Rob

BooYAH!

I went to my meeting last night and logged another drop of 2.6 pounds. That's what this Sony TZ laptop weighs!

Sadly, I also lost 100 gigs of computing power. All from my ass.

Rob

Filthy, Filthy NPR

Sure, it's no "Pete's Schwetty Balls," but this description from yesterday's Morning Edition of former Treasury Secretary Robert Rubin (who's taking the reins of Citibank) seemed a little raunchier to me than (I hope) it was meant:

When every other politician and cabinet secretary in Washington was raising his hand for Bill Clinton's attention, Robert Rubin sat there with his hand in his lap, and got noticed as a result of that.

That'd do it.

Rob

Important Reminder

Do your part today. Vote.

Rob

When They Grab You With Their Metal Claws, You Can't Break Free.

I probably posted this before. But it makes me laugh every time I think of it.



Rob

CBS is really pissing me off.

I was jazzed to watch The Amazing Race 12. Sat down for dinner tonight, clicked onto our Tivo'd premiere episode.

And once again, CBS let football run long, so 60 minutes ended late, so we get half a 60 minutes episode and half Amazing Race.

We can't add time to buffer our recording; Desperate Housewives comes on right afterward, and the Tivo has to switch. And unlike many of its shows, CBS doesn't make the full episodes available online.

I'd love to watch The Amazing Race. I really enjoy the show, and it's the only reality show we watch, making it a great change of pace from our usual fare. But...

THERE'S NO POINT IN WATCHING A RACE IF YOU NEVER SEE ANYONE WIN.

CBS deserves a middle finger right in its goddamn eye.


Rob

"No, No, No" is the wrong answer.

Man, Back to Black is a good album.

And man, this is a lousy performance of the title track. Simply a train wreck.

It's enough to make me feel guilty for buying Amy Winehouse's album; however she's spending her earningsn, if she doesn't stop soon it'll end her.

There aren't a lot of tabloid princesses I have a lot of sympathy for. As much as they seem hounded by publicity, they also have armies of publicists "leaking" their every move to the press. And I'm sure Winehouse has the same.

But simply for the waste of talent, it makes me depressed. She's got so much more potential, and she's flushing it away.

Rob

I Love a Parade

Ninja Parade Slips Through Town Unnoticed Once Again

Rob

I'm Trying To Care, But I'm Afraid I Might Sprain Something

So earlier this week a Mildly Amusing Dinosaur of a Comics Magazine has announced (via cover blurb) that it will now be a Mildly Amusing Dinosaur of a "Pop Culture" Magazine for Men. And some fine folks who don't need that blurb to tell them what they already know--that, blurb or no blurb, it has the sense of humor of a dim Starfleet Academy fratboy--are jawing on and on about it. And I've tried to join the conversation a couple of times, but really just can't get into it.

Because--as Kalinara notes--this book is a Dinosaur. All of its primary functions have gone by the wayside, either through humor and opinion blogs, internet news sites or auction sites like eBay (who needs a price guide?). So it's left to grope around blindly in the jungle as more specialized mammals scamper out of reach of its tiny, useless arms.

It's a Dinosaur. It's closer to being oil than being relevant.

So it's hard to see what all the fuss is about.*

ETA: Here's a Wizard cover from last year:
Ship? Sailed. The only reason "men's magazine" is in this month's topline at all is because they didn't have a photo of a babe to tell us so herself.

Rob

*It's even harder to see how this change/rebranding is going to save their bacon. I love comics, but even I can see that the world at large is not clamoring for a comic-oriented Maxim. FHM's dead, Stuff became a subsection of Maxim -- and yet there's a market for Maxim with drawings of She-Hulk? Sure...hitch your wagon to that star, why don't you?

Man, everybody else gets all the good crack.

Strange Bedfellows

The wingnuts team up with...MoveOn.org? Versus Fox News?

Okay, this is weirder than that Judy Garland thing. But I'm off the meds!

Rob

Cue That Bass!

Good news, everybody! Well, Good rumor, anyway. Can I have everybody's attention?

No, up here, in the rafters.

That's better.

Barney Miller season 2 may be finally coming to DVD!

Rob

Tip o' the Little Red Hat

Congratulations to Valerie D'Orazio for becoming president of Friends of Lulu, a 13-year-old non-profit that encourages female readership and participation in the comics field.

I'm looking forward to seeing what she and the rest of the new crew has planned.

Rob