Oh, gracious!

Apparently in an interview in the new issue of Rolling Stone, President Obama called Mitt Romney a "bullshitter."

The exact passage is this:

I was reminded of this incident when our interview with the president ended. As we left the Oval Office, executive editor Eric Bates told Obama that he had asked his six-year-old if there was anything she wanted him to say to the president. After a thoughtful pause, she said, "Tell him: You can do it."
Obama grinned. "That's the only advice I need," he said. "I do very well, by the way, in that demographic. Ages six to 12? I'm a killer."
"Thought about lowering the voting age?" Bates joked.
"You know, kids have good instincts," Obama offered. "They look at the other guy and say, 'Well, that's a bullshitter, I can tell.'"

So essentially, Obama doesn't call Romney a bullshitter by name. It's kind of a bank shot, and an off-the-cuff, post-interview comment, at that. But in an interview about the election, it's obvious who he's talking about, if it's anyone in particular.

I'm all in favor of this. "Bullshit" cuts across the high bar necessary to prove the term "liar." A politician can say a half a dozen true things, but by omitting many other facts of reality, those details, while each individually true, when mixed with a few unverifiable assertions, can become a steaming stew of bullshit. Not a single "lie" in the recipe, but it's still not anything you want to swallow.

I've long said that politicians should be freer with the B word (and the somehow more rustic H word, horseshit). It wouldn't elevate our discourse in terms of politeness...but being willing to label a talking point bullshit gives the audience a euphemism they instinctively understand -- with a touch of shock to the language to get them to pay attention. (Probably too much shock, at first -- the national conversation will be all about the word than the claim itself, which is self-defeating. At first, anyway.)

Perfume makers use a base of civet underlying a scents' pleasant overtones, because biologically or nostrils open to the odor -- it smells foul, and dangerous. It awakens our senses, and lets us smell the more delicate scents more fully. Maybe we need to hear the word bullshit now and then, just to get us to open our noses.

Rob

Rolling Away

Just got back from getting my new car inspected. I’m really happy to have it, and it’s going to serve me well for many years, I’m sure.

But yesterday, I donated my old car, a Chevy Cavalier Rally Sport, to the American Lung Association, and even knowing how sentimental I can be, I was surprised at how much it pained me to say goodbye.

I bought the car in January of 1999, just a few weeks into dating Kathy. I’d been in an accident that didn’t hurt anyone, but had totaled my previous car. I needed a new one, quick, because Kathy lived close to two hours away, and I had no intention of spending any weekends apart from her, if I could help it. I think I borrowed the family car just once to see her; by the next weekend, I had my Rally Sport. And it traveled the PA and NJ turnpikes nearly every weekend for three years, until we moved in together.

As the tow truck was pulling it away, I said to Kathy, “That’s the car that brought me to you.”

It also managed to let Kathy know I could take a joke. Within a few weeks of me buying it, Kathy and I attended our friends’ wedding out of town. After the reception, one of my friends noticed that the Rally Sport shared my initials, and pointed that out… as if it were some weird manifestation of ego that I had to have a car that shared my initials. And suddenly there were a barrage of comments about the car, all with the letters R.S. “It’s really spiffy” is the one I remember best, but the comments were relentless. Not insulting, but just merciless teasing. And I did my best to take it with good grace, and give as good as I got whenever I saw an opening. And I’d like to think Kathy noticed I was someone who wouldn’t blow a fuse at a little ribbing, and I hope that recommended me.

The Cavalier had a lot of miles on it, so I can relate. Its systems were failing, one by one. First the CD player went. Then the trunk began leaking badly enough that I had to remove the carpeting because it had molded. The back seat no longer had any padding under it (it had molded), and the cushion would occasionally detach from the bench. The air conditioning stopped working several summers ago. And sometime this summer, I was no longer able to direct which heating and cooling vents the air would come out of… which promised a fall and winter of fogged, undefrostable windshields. 

It was clearly time to move on.

But still. That was the car that brought me to my wife. Every weekend, for months and years on end, since before she was even my girlfriend, really. I owe it a debt.

There was a photo of us, a Polaroid, in the change well of the Cavalier. Four photos, shot in a boardwalk booth, of Kathy and I, smooching and grinning like crazy. We both have more hair than we do now, and it’s clear we’re over-the-moon in love.

You can bet that photo is in the center console of my new car. It’s a smooth ride, and the air conditioning works, but it has a lot to live up to.

Rob

I Thrill When I Drill a Bicuspid

Of all the comics I bought this weekend at New York Comic Con...

and the even greater number of comics I looked at in the back issue bins....

...this is the one I simply could not put down. It called to me.

Why am I such a Super-Misfit?

Rob
(Cover by the great Nick Cardy, btw.)

Team Up

This is my childhood hero, The Flash -- Barry Allen -- when he was a boy.

And this is his mom saying something that my own mom has always said to me: "Luck is preparation meeting opportunity."

Good advice, from a great mom.

I have a feeling opportunity is at my doorstep. I hope I've prepared enough when it knocks.

Rob

Watching 'Play Misty for Me'

A few random thoughts on Play Misty for Me:

I’ve been meaning to watch this movie since I was renting VHS tapes at Erol’s Video Club in Springfield. I don’t know how many times I’d linger over the VHS sleeve, read the description, and eventually put it back in favor of something I wanted to see more on that particular night. This is probably my number-one also-ran from those days.

I’ve also been more interested in watching movies from the 70s lately. Unlike the 80s, which I remember pretty well and when I watched a lot of current movies, the 70s is a time I was alive, but have little functional memory of. Snippets here and there, of course, but all from a child’s point of view. It’s interesting to get an adult perspective, even if it’s through the filter or a psycho-stalker suspense movie.

It’s melodramatic and over-the-top, and certainly a prototype for Fatal Attraction. (There’s even a Madame Butterfly reference.) Unlike Michael Douglas in that movie, Clint Eastwood’s jazz deejay character isn’t cheating on anyone here; he’s just a cad.

The woman who goes from groupie to stalker in no time flat is played by Jessica Walter, an actor who I never really took notice of until her turn as Lucille Bluth on Arrested Development. She’s effective in this, especially early on, in that she pretty naturally amps up Eastwood’s frustration level whenever she appears, and always manages to take charge of their conversations. Eastwood’s good, too.

BTW, if you ever wanted to see Young Clint walk around in his tighty-whities, here’s your chance.

A couple odd, peripheral scenes to mention: In one, Eastwood’s dejay buddy is about to smoke a joint. Clint declines the offer to share, asking him to do it in the other room so he can keep a clear head. Which manages to depict the drug use without it actually being on film, as the camera stays on Eastwood and the doorway during their conversation. Maybe it was a MPAA ratings thing?

Also, no surprise, but Eastwood’s love of jazz brings the plot to a dead stop for a little while, as we see ten minutes of footage of the Montery Jazz Festival. No complaints here; it’s a wonderful glimpse.

And finally, I have to mention that there’s one brief shot where you can see one of Jessica Walter’s boobs. Not entirely unexpected for this kind of movie (it’s actually pretty restrained in that regard), but nonetheless a strange moment, since to me she’s Lucille Bluth. I have never felt more like poor, conflicted Buster than at that moment.

Rob

I'm no explosives expert, but...

... I think Batwing is engaging in some serious CYA behavior in this week's Justice League International Annual:

"The device was small. Undetectable." Seriously, dude?

Let me make it easier for you: HIS ENTIRE TORSO IS COVERED IN EXPLOSIVES.

Batwing scans for explosives like I scan the refrigerator: "Honey, where's the mustard?"
"It's in the fridge."
"I don't see it."
"Sheesh, it's right in front of you."
...
"The jar of Grey Poupon was small. Undetectable."

Boom.

Rob

Clark + Diana? For now, maybe.

DC recently announced a Superman/Wonder Woman romance (starting in tomorrow's Justice League #12), and I'm curious to see what DC does with it. My biggest fear is that it will derail some of Brian Azzarello's plans for Diana in the regular Wonder Woman comic; it seems more of a Superman storyline than a Wonder Woman one to me, although that's mostly because Wonder Woman has been refreshingly free of crossovers with the rest of the DCU.

Kissytime.

I don't think it will last at all -- probably a year, maybe a little more -- but that doesn't mean I think it's not worth doing. (That remains to be seen by the stories we get.) Hopefully both characters will be treated with respect throughout the storyline, and the relationship will be dealt with maturely once it ends. I like the idea of exes in the DCU -- relationships which were once one thing and are now another. If they want to do that with Superman and Wonder Woman, that's fine with me. It's a big step, but it doesn't have to be a disastrous one.

Interestingly, AP writer Matt Moore writes this in today's story about the couple: "One aspect that did not survive the relaunch: Lois Lane's role as Superman's love. She's still around, but the two have never dated, nor are they likely to."

That's gullible to the point of ridiculousness. Moore is swallowing whole this temporary PR push, and ignoring everything we know about these characters (not just Superman and Wonder Woman, but all long-running, serial fiction characters) periodically reverting back to their iconic forms. Not only is Lois likely to date Superman, but history indicates she's all but guaranteed to. In the unlikely event that the Superman/Wonder Woman couple sets the world on fire (and I honestly don't think it's even intended to; I think DC wants people to buy it, but they don't necessarily want us to like it or root for it), it'll take ten years instead of 3-5, but Lois and Clark are ultimately bound to fall back into each other's orbits, and eventually date (and possibly marry) once again. Lois's gravity will always pull Clark in, and rightfully so.

Which is why the deviations are so potentially interesting to me. But whether they crash or fly is all in the execution.

Rob

Bear Witness

Behold! The Granite Terror of Saranac Lake!

Cast your eye upon his whelp, using tools to contain his prey!

Look upon him, and tremble!

BEHOLD!

Rob
(Had a great vacation, everybody. Wish I were still there, with all my pals.)

Review: Wonder Woman 10, "Vows"

Previously, in Wonder Woman: Diana, shot with Eros’s golden guns and betrothed to Hades, lord of the Underworld, was confronted with a noose made from her own golden lasso, that compels the truth from those bound by it. Hades’ intention is that she wear the noose and proclaim her love for him before the wedding. Meanwhile, while most of their Olympian family has refused the wedding invitation, a few have come to witness the nuptuals: Diana’s allies, Hephaestus, Eros, and her half-brother Lennox, and Strife, who’s always been a source of…well, you know.

The action in Wonder Woman #10 picks up at the moment Diana is asked to prove her love to Hades by wearing the Noose of Truth… and we discover that, whatever her feelings for the lord of Hell (in one sense, they surprise, but in a larger sense, we should have known she felt that way all along), she won’t be bound by anyone, especially not a creepy candle-headed little-boy uncle who doesn’t even trust her. And a chase/fight scene commences, including Hades’ ex-wives, the billion tormented souls of hell, and a giant effigy made of muscle and blood.

And although she gets an assist from her family, Diana doesn’t want any of it. It’s as if she’s heard the complaints that she’s a supporting character in her own book, telling her allies “This is my fight; you shouldn’t have come.” And then: “You, too, Strife? Why can’t any of you let me fight this alone?” Production schedules being what they are, I’m not sure if this is writer Brian Azzarello's response to  fan criticism; it’s just one more way any of us relate to our families, even when they’re trying to help.

Ultimately, the key to the story comes down to love. Last issue, Aphrodite begged off the wedding invitation, opining, “There isn’t space in hell for love; it’s too cluttered.” This issue, we see just how right she is, and what strength love brings to Diana, and what a weakness that lack of love brings to Hades. (Although we later see all hope isn’t lost there, either, as the twin gifts of Hephaestus and Diana may work some magic.) And, incidentally, we get to see the effects of love on the rest of the Olympian family, through the eyes of Hephaestus, who certainly has plenty of experience, given that he’s married to (and cuckholded by) Love herself.

Aside from the issue’s striking cover by regular artist Cliff Chiang, this issue’s art is split between Kano and regular fill-in Tony Akins (with inks by Dan Green). Their styles complement each other, and it’s not jarring at all when one artist’s work gives way to the next’s. (It helps that it’s timed for the exact moment when the action kicks up to a crescendo – well planned, editor Idelson!) Colorist Matthew Wilson reinforces the eerie environment of the Underworld, giving everyone’s skin an unsettling, greenish cast.

It’s unclear where the story goes from this point; aside from Zola’s impending baby, the immediate plot threads are all tied up for the time being. But with this issue, Azzarello put Diana solidly back in the spotlight, focusing on her most important asset. Fueled by love, as she says, winning isn’t always the goal. But with it, she knows she can never lose.

Rob