Tom King's Batman: It's probably just me...

Yes, it’s probably just me.

Everyone else I read or listen to or talk to is ga-ga about Tom King’s Batman.

Me? Sorta. Kinda. Ehhh.

It’s probably just me. I’m just tired of the assumption that Batman is only interesting if he’s on the couch, literally or figuratively.

Of course, it’s not just King. This has been going on now for a very very long time, for several meta-arcs, Grant Morrison’s and Scott Snyder’s and now King’s, this “He So Crazy feat. Batman.” It reminds me more than a bit of the dismal dark decade of Daredevil, until Mark Waid threw back the curtains and let the sunshine in.*

Any chance of Waid coming on next? Not likely.

It’s not that King is a bad writer; no, he’s an excellent writer. He’s an extraordinary writer. The way he plays back-and-forth with flashbacks is wonderful. His dialogue is sharp and clever, without dissembling into Aaron-Sorkin-too-smart-to-be-real kitsch. The Clark-Bruce-Lois-Selina interplay in #37 was one of the most fun books I’ve ever read. It was outstanding.

Now, not that all of King’s storytelling is airtight and par excellence. The jury room rant in #53 was, gee, just a little over the top, ya think? If I was on a jury and one of my fellows did that, I wouldn’t change my vote; I’d notify the judge that one of the panelists was clearly unable to discharge his duties and should perhaps get some help, and would he please send in the alternate juror?

And the whole gosh-I-can’t-marry-you deal from Selina in #50 was so...predictable. I mean, is that it? “Batman needs his darkness!” Nobody’s noticed that before, nope. Just turning the emotional dials up to 11 doesn’t make it any more original.

Is it too much to expect, that King would transcend the cliches? Maybe. But that’s the challenge of being as good as King is; he sets a high bar for himself.

But my main gripe is, this Batman that King is writing...this Bruce Wayne? I’ve been reading Batman comics for 50 years (and I know this is the default Old Man Argument) but...

I don’t know this guy.

Blasphemous as it sounds to say, it’s a bit like how I felt watching Batman v Superman, watching those roid-rage guys beat each other near to death.

I couldn’t have cared less.

Because I didn’t know those guys.

I recognized the costumes, but that was about it.

And it’s not like King hasn’t done this before on, oh, I don’t know, every book he’s worked on. Take an established character, and totally reimagine his motivations, his ambitions, his mental stability, and take him two steps beyond recognition. Genius, they cry! Brilliant, they sigh! A whole new level of depth, they genuflect!

But it’s too easy.

He’s hardly playing by the rules of an 80-plus-year-old shared universe, unlike the other writers over which he has been so meteorically elevated. They (or at least, most of them) understood that Bruce Wayne was the sum total of 80 years of writing, or at least the couple-three writers who came before them.

But it seems there are few rules for King; same costume, same supporting characters, that’s about it. Cut loose, bro!

It’s like the new writer who comes on and immediately wants to kill some main characters. Instant dramatic effect!** No, no, can’t do that, says editorial. Work with what you’ve got. So instead, King just retcons different people into the costume and proceeds to deconstruct them. Hmm, shame that O’Neil or Moench or Brubaker never thought to ask for permission to do that, eh? ***

But, you say, what about the literal homage he pays to Bruce’s backstory...the intimate, detailed, and emotional revisiting of the alley and the gun, the Zorro movie and the pearls? The Robin flashbacks in #54?

Brilliantly posed, yes. But those are all the more troubling for me, because now those familiar details are supposed to mean something different; something different to me and, more importantly, something different to Bruce. And therefore, X number of years later, we have a different Bruce.

And I don’t know this guy.

There’s a sequence in #51 where Dick takes Bruce’s place, Bat-costume and all, and responds to the Bat-Signal, and Gordon greets him with:

“You're not him.”

Yup, that’s how it feels to me, too.

There’s a wonderful exchange in the middle of Brian DePalma’s Phantom of the Paradise (admittedly one of my all-time favorite movies, just...well, because), where a hot glam singer is brought in to sing some stolen music, and he practices in front of the record exec’s right-hand man/enforcer. The singer is having a little trouble adapting the music to his style, so the enforcer is cynically helpful:

ENFORCER: Drop an octave here, change a line there, make it completely yours. Let's go.

SINGER: Far out! But doesn't that change the whole thing?

ENFORCER: You heard him. Make it yours. As long as it sounds good, nobody’s gonna care what it's about.

SINGER: Is that so?

ENFORCER: Nobody cares what anything’s about...

SINGER: Is that right?

ENFORCER: Who the hell listens to lyrics anyway?

That’s where I’m at with King’s Batman. It’s a fun ride, and I’m enjoying (and buying) it...but do I care? Well, for me it’s really just another Elseworlds tale.

Because I don’t know this guy.

But…

It’s probably just me.

————————————————

* In fact, didn’t we just have a “let’s emotionally destroy the Batman” in Snyder’s Death of the Family? Ancient history, I guess.

** Oh wait, damn, that’s what he’s doing in Heroes in Crisis. Oops.

*** Yes, I know, Alan Moore. But that’s a whole ‘nuther post. That’s a whole freakin’ dissertation.

Theater of the (Old) Mind

Nigel Bruce (Watson) and Basil Rathbone (Holmes)

Conrad (top left) and the main Gunsmoke cast

Jack Webb

The cast of Superman

Welles as The Shadow

Jack Benny and Fred Allen

Edward R. Murrow

Roosevelt

I try not to bore you with too many of my quirky hobbies… but my dear friend Dale sent me a link http://www.old-time.com/mcleod/top100.html to a list by radio historian Elizabeth McLeod of the 100 most significant “moments” in radio. Now, I really really like old time radio (OTR), and thousands of hours of it can be found online. Almost all of it is in public domain now (with notable exceptions like The Lone Ranger, The Shadow, any BBC stuff, and anything post-1962).

Many many of the radio things she mentions are unfortunately lost, or otherwise not available to the OTR web community. But I wanted to talk about some of her entries that I am conversant with:

#98 SHERLOCK HOLMES is indeed made for radio... it’s all exposition and verbal banter and deduction. The first ongoing series was the 1939-1946 Rathbone and Bruce version, which is pretty corny but still entertaining; their American successors don’t fare as well. The really good productions are British; John Gielgud and Ralph Richardson as Holmes & Watson, for goodness’ sake! And the late-90s productions for BBC-4 with Clive Merrison and Michael Williams (later Andrew Sachs) are the defining work; they are beautifully written, elaborately produced, wonderfully performed, and bring these characters so richly to life that it’s hard to go back and listen to the older stuff.

#75 GUNSMOKE is my favorite radio drama... If all you saw was his “Cannon” TV days, you wouldn’t appreciate what a really really good actor William Conrad was. His Matt Dillon is a marvel of understated complexity, and he did it all with just his voice. Like McLeod’s listing says, this is not a western where the good guys always win and there’s trumpet fanfare at the end. If I was one o’ them cinema historian guys, I’d say that the ‘anti-hero’ and ambiguity of so many late-60’s-early-70’s films goes directly back to the radio version of Gunsmoke. Lots of times Dillon has to choose between bad and worse. Not Ronald Reagan’s kind of western.

#69 DRAGNET is of course a blast... It’s really no different than the TV show, except there’s no crazed drug smokin’ hippies turning on by tuning out, man (“is that right, fella?... Well listen up, you forgot one thing...”). Of course, Joe Friday is single and lives with his mom, who calls him “Joseph.” And he stays out on stakeouts with his partner Frank Smith until all hours. And he scoffs every time good old married guy Frank tries to fix him up with a date. But he’s not gay... Clear?!? Not gay!!!  He’s... he’s... metasexual!

#66 SUPERMAN is about what you’d expect... except (as noted in McLeod) there are many less-than-subtle messages (in the scripts and in the PSAs done by the cast) against bigotry, intolerance, and hate. It’s truly astonishing. For all the complaints that the right sends up today about the ‘messages’ kids get from Sesame Street, etc., there is no way that this kind of blunt proselytizing would ever be allowed on a kids program today. I don’t know enough about the history of the show to know what the genesis of this was, but it sounds radically out of place in 1946, and (at the risk of overstatement) it makes the movements of the 60’s more understandable with this as a preface...

#53 THE LONE RANGER is, also, about what you’d expect... but with no surprises. Not my favorite, if that’s not heretical to say. It didn’t have the weirdness and camp that makes Superman palatable for an adult. It is surprising how often the bad guy outsmarts LR and he has to go to plan B…

#51 THE SHADOW with Orson Welles. Welles is always fun to listen to... In several of the episodes I have, young Welles seems to believe that great acting requires stepping on the last word of your co-star’s lines, usually Margo Lane’s. By the end of the episode, she’s started stepping on his lines (you can actually hear the frustration) and he’s on hers and neither of them ever gets to finish a sentence. But great hammy stuff for Welles.

#47 LIGHTS OUT, Columbia Workshop, etc.... Some really odd stuff starting to happen here, much more troubling and personal than 99% of TV today. This is the seedbed for Playhouse 90 and Rod Serling and his amazing blend of fantasy and social commentary.

#26 JACK BENNY, FRED ALLEN- Jack is one of my all-time favorites; my parents told me that when I was little I would never miss an episode of his TV show. He generally plays the straight man, letting the chaos flail around him; his only power is that he controls the money, a fact he never lets his cast forget (and vice versa). It’s really situation comedy. Allen’s shows, on the other hand, were much more an odd combination of a sketch comedy that often had an opening monologue, very acerbic and very funny, and very topical, which is why it doesn’t hold up as well, and probably why Allen faded as TV ascended…which is ironic since Saturday Night Live (and now-gone people like Johnny Carson and Jack Parr) owe much to Allen.

#21 LONDON AFTER DARK. I’ve only heard a couple of these, but if you can get your 21st century ears around the idea that this is real, not a drama, they’re amazing. Live “play-by-play” descriptions of bombing raids, shelters, and life in the blackouts. It was led by CBS’ Edward R. Murrow, and backed by a team of notable broadcast journalists (including Larry LeSueur and Eric Sevareid) as well as authors like J.B. Priestly and Vincent Sheean. If the closest thing you’ve come to WW2 is watching war movies, this is the real thing. And if you wondered how England held out so long while waiting for the Americans to come to their senses, you’ll come to understand how damn tough those Brits were.

#8 HINDENBURG DISASTER and #10 WAR OF THE WORLDS: Only 18 months apart, the shocking immediacy of the first added greatly to the incredible-yet-believable drama of the second. I hope my generation isn’t the last to hear and appreciate these icons to the power and intimacy-shared-with-millions magic of radio.

#4 PEARL HARBOR: The halting delivery of a stunned newscaster, breaking in to regular programming; the updates throughout the day describing the extent of the carnage; Roosevelt’s “forever in infamy” speech... That was their 9/11, when nice normal predictable American lives were suddenly dragged into the pain other humans had known for years. And to listen to the newscasts in the weeks and months preceding December 7th, it is stunning for someone my age to understand that it was no sure thing that we were going to battle Hitler and Tojo; there was a real good chance we were going to try and sit it out. Amazing. 

And the list rightfully concludes with #1, D-DAY: I’ve only heard the CBS broadcasts, with Collingwood onboard a landing craft at Normandy. To say there’s a difference between the journalists of that day, and the Anderson Cooper’s of today, goes without saying; the difference centers around the inability to get out of the way of the story.

Everything Ruder Than Everything Else

As my friend Dale will tell you, the day after the Don Imus scandal broke, I pretty much knew he was done… that’s nothing to brag about; I had a 50/50 shot, in or out. But this time his stink had gotten fanned into the national a/c system, there was no other big story out there to cover the scent, and between bloggers and YouTube, there are too many noses in the air now to miss the smell. My friend Joe thinks it’s because it was simulcasted on MSNBC; if it had just been radio, it might have gone right by…

Maybe. 

This could turn into a rant, and there are others who’ll do that better than I. Let me just respond to a few comments I’ve heard from Imus defenders:

• This is an overreaction to a single incident. Even Imus’ apologists are using the words “disgusting” and “reprehensible,” but what they leave out is “and totally in character.” This is not an out-of-the-blue remark for Imus; it’s not unexpected at all. That he got called on it probably shocked the hell out of Mr. Shock-Jock himself.

• That Imus is only giving people what they want. Fine, I’ll accept that most humans need their taste and preference meters adjusted; I’m a Christian who believes in total depravity. But I also believe that the goal is upward, not downward, and that playing to our baser instincts is a bad thing to do. See also “Francis, Joe.”

• That Imus is not a bad guy. That’s fine; I’ll buy that too. I’m not suggesting he be jailed or exiled or beaten. I’m just saying it’s appropriate that he lost his job. He’ll get another. In fact, he’s probably got a standing offer from Sirius in his desk drawer at home.

• That this is a free speech issue. I call BS on that one. Imus has the right to say whatever he wants. He doesn’t have the constitutional right to be paid $10 million a year to say it over 60+ radio stations. Give him a soapbox and a streetcorner and let’s see how many folks think he’s clever.

Maybe I’m overly sensitive because I work around college students all day long. If you’re a politician or an actor, this is part of the deal; taking public abuse and criticism is the flip side of the power and wealthy and fame if you’re Hillary or Barak or Tom or Oprah, or even wannabees like Kato Kaelin or Larry Birkhead. But a bunch of teen-age girls playing basketball? This is a viable target? As I recall, the only email I ever sent to sports talk host Jim Rome was when he was running smack on a 12-year-old girl who had won a spelling bee. I don’t remember exactly what I wrote, but it was something about if this was the best he could do anymore, maybe he could get his old job back introducing the strippers at the Doo-Drop-Inn Gentlemen’s Club (hmm, come to think of it, I don’t think he ever wrote back…).

Tim Rutten has a good take in the LA Times today (http://www.latimes.com/news/nationworld/nation/la-et-rutten13apr13,0,6022815.column), wondering if maybe we have finally satiated our appetites for vile and meanspirited public ‘conversations.’ I wish it were so… but as long as we are a people driven by fear and selfishness, we will also be attracted to hatred and prejudice. During the LA riots, when Rodney King asked, “can’t we just all get along?,” Christian philosopher Dallas Willard wistfully responded, “No, we can’t… not until we become the kind of people who can get along.”

Bill and the Deep Blue Sea

Random thoughts while watching college basketball; specifically, watching Texas and Kevin Durant get massacred by USC. First, I know they’re young, but could there be a bigger disconnect between the Longhorns’ talent and their ability to play as a team? Second, despite my Bruin bloodlines, it’s fun to see the Trojans have some success in roundball; it’s no fun beating up on a bad team. Now if we could just wake up Karl Dorrell…

Still catching up: Movie review

Anchorman (2004). Mildly amusing and generally inoffensive; Will Ferrell pulls off being a likable boor, and his co-stars are adequate. But the setups are much funnier than the bits themselves; there were a lot of those “boy, this is gonna be funny…. ummm, well, kind of…” A lot like an SNL sketch; funny premise, disappointing execution. Some potentially great cameos suffer the same fate; there are several well-known faces given almost nothing amusing to say or do. One telling sign of its mediocrity: you walk away remembering no killer lines that bring to mind killer scenes. Okay, I'll give them one: during anchor Ron Burgundy's struggle for newsroom supremacy, his signature sign-off is sabotaged on his teleprompter, and what results is pretty funny. That's one. Maybe I'm just not Ferrell's demographic; to paraphrase the late great Dr. Frank-n-furter, "I didn't make it for you!"  C+

Still catching up: Music review

Two Lights, Five for Fighting (2006). I really liked “Superman,” but I didn’t buy FFF’s first CD. I really liked “100 Years,” but I didn’t buy the 2nd CD either. So when I heard “The Riddle,” I thought it was time to buy the CD. Good call. Reallygood call. John Ondrasik (yes, it’s a guy, not a band) is clearly a product of his influences; Elton John, Billy Joel, James Taylor, a certain ineffable Southern California point of view). This album is mostly piano ballads; several are topical, about a nation at war (“Freedom Never Cries,” “Two Lights”), some are dreams of a better place (“World,” “Road to Heaven”), and some are simply love songs (e.g., “I Just Love You,” which at the end gives a wonderful twist on the relationship being considered). But it’s certainly not all ballads; “Policeman’s Xmas Party” is truly odd but great fun, “California Justice” is sarcastic without being strident (and is full of SoCal references), “65 Mustang” is an upbeat throwaway, and “Johnny America” is out and out exuberant. If you like Harry Chapin and Steve Forbert  and my patron saint, Jackson Browne, I think you’ll like this. If you prefer songwriters to poseurs and melody to noise, and if the presence of a piano doesn’t cause you hives, I think you’ll like this. Grade: A.

Happy birthday to George Foreman

He’s 30 today. That probably needs some explaining. Spiritually, it’s his birthday; 30 years ago today, after losing what appeared to be his last heavyweight fight, Foreman had a religious experience that turned him to Christ. "He was a bad guy," says boxing promoter Bob Arum. "Surly. Mean-spirited. He had abused women, got in a lot of street fights. He was selfish, self-centered, had episodes of mistreating people if he didn't get his way.” A changed man, Foreman retired, started a ministry, and spent ten years quietly serving God before launching a comeback that would improbably result in regaining the heavyweight title. He’s left boxing for good now, but he’s still God’s man: "It's a pleasure to be a part of his life," says Arum. "He's a kind, caring, terrific person…. It's sincere, man, it ain't an act."  Foreman is throwing himself a huge birthday party in Houston. Happy birthday, brother…

On my small screen this week

The Life Aquatic (2004). They’ve got cameras. They’ve got glocks. They’ve got a ship you wouldn’t cross the LA River in, ‘though it does have a sauna and a very nice kitchen. They’ve got funding issues, interpersonal issues, mutiny issues, midlife crisis issues, love triangle issues, pirate issues… they’re Team Zissou, and they’re in search of Bill Murray’s personal Moby Dick. 

Talk about a movie that defies analogy and categorization; in plot and look and feel, it’s not really like anything else out there. It’s a feast, visually and musically; wonderful undersea footage (and stop-action animation), richly saturated colors, and a Bowie-based score with throw-ins from the Zombies, Bach, and Iggy Pop (of course, the Bowie cuts are all sung in Portuguese, so there!). The oversaturated colors and writer/director Wes Anderson’s unconventional cuts (and a couple of truly amazing theater-style scenes on a cut-away version of the ship) give it a delightful but somewhat artificial feel, the feel I get from a well-done comic book; enjoyable but very clearly not ‘real’ (which could of course spark the Film School 101 argument about what cinema is supposed to be, anyway…).

Yet it’s also neither zany, nor naïve, nor even melancholy; gently surreal, maybe, like a mild buzz from the joints Murray’s character smokes throughout. Murray has nearly perfected droll-and-despairing; one reason the movie works so well is that its pacing matches Murray’s perfectly. Anjelica Huston is, well, Anjelica Huston; Owen Wilson plays southern-sincere so syrupy that he’s almost Leslie Howard; Cate Blanchett does okay with an interesting but oddly unfinished character; Willem Dafoe gets to turn his trademark intensity on its ear; and for heaven’s sake it’s got Jeff Goldblum and Bud Cort in the same movie! What more could you ask for? It’s truly odd, but not odd in a dark way at all… if you’ll grant Anderson his conceits and just enjoy the ride, it’s a heckuva ride indeed. A-

The Cost of Hubris

The GOP loses both houses of Congress. I know there are a dozen things to point to, including failure to acknowledge Wallace Shawn (“never get involved in a land war in Asia”). But I would still argue that it goes back to Gitmo and Abu Ghraib. Americans don’t torture. Americans don’t incarcerate without trial. The documents guaranteeing these ‘rights’ may technically not apply to non-citizens, but they are based upon a Weltanschauung that says these are inalienable and thus universal. More practically, whether we are or not, we like to imagine that we are above that sort of thing; that in world affairs, we have the moral high ground.

It will take some time and some hard, smart work to re-establish that in the eyes of the world. And of course, that it was the responsibility of perhaps the most explicitly evangelical-Christian President we have ever had is the hugest disappointment; more than any other, it should have been this President who said, “we will do what is right, we will take the high road, even if it is not expedient, and even if it is dangerous.” But trust requires humility. Hubris has its price.

This is hardly exclusively a GOP problem; recommended reading, “The Best and the Brightest” by David Halberstam, about the American (specifically, the Democratic) arrogance that landed us in Vietnam.

Better late than never department, Part 1

I finally saw “American Beauty” (1999) on DVD. After 20 minutes, I was ready to turn it off; I hated pretty much everybody in the movie, and I’m less tolerant than I used to be of cynicism passing itself off as black comedy. But I stuck with it… and I realized that I was being played. The marketing theme was ‘look closer,’ probably playing off the rather tired idea that beneath the orderly streets of suburbia lurks chaos… but it was more than that. It took ‘looking closer’ at the characters, and realizing they were more than tired caricatures… there were pretty good reasons why they were what they were.

And all of them step right up to edge of the abyss, but only one steps over… in a satisfyingly twisty sort of way. The acting was amazing; Annette Bening, never a favorite of mine, was absolutely astonishing. I don’t know if you can take away a single moral from it; I counted half a dozen almost immediately. But maybe the one that stuck with me the most was, sometimes you get a second chance… and sometimes you don’t.

Better late than never department, Part 2

Simple Plan’s Still Not Getting’ Any (2004). Well-produced post-punk-pop (along the lines of newer Green Day); ‘Shut Up’ and ‘Welcome to My Life’ got substantial airplay. But the revelation here is “Untitled,” the final cut and whose lyrics are curiously left off of the booklet. It’s teen angst and dissatisfaction wrapped in a classic power ballad (which of course meant I immediately liked it), but more significantly, it’s about the tragic aftermath of teenage drunk driving. The song is powerful; the video is devastating. Show it to your kids next time they head out to a party.

And the obligatory sports comment

how ‘bout those Knicks? This is a team that I loved as a kid, second only to my hometown Lakers. Walt Frazier was the coolest of cool, Jerry Lucas was a rock, Willis Reed was a lion, and my favorite non-L.A. player of all time was Dave DeBusschere… and I’ve left out Bill Bradley and Earl Monroe and Phil Jackson. But now the expectations are so low that getting to within six games of.500 earns coach Isiah ‘Midas Touch’ Thomas a contract extension. Amazing. If he wins a playoff game, he might get a lifetime appointment. And if this is good coaching, what adjectives do we have for Phil Jackson riding his one-trick pony to sixth place in the much tougher West? 

To close…

Kevin Spacey’s final, post-mortem monologue from “American Beauty,”

“…it's hard to stay mad, when there's so much beauty in the world. Sometimes I feel like I'm seeing it all at once, and it's too much… my heart fills up like a balloon that's about to burst...and then I remember to relax, and stop trying to hold on to it, and then it flows through me like rain…

“…and I can't feel anything but gratitude for every single moment of my stupid little life... (chuckles) You have no idea what I'm talking about, I'm sure. But don't worry...

[FADE TO BLACK]

“You will someday.”

Things That Aren't Here Anymore...

Ralph Story

Grumpy Old Man Mourns Passing of Other Grumpy Old Man

I thought it was worth noting that we lost a great gift today. Former Los Angeles television newsman Ralph Story passed away at age 86. If you never saw Ralph, well, he managed to be both Mike Wallace and Huell Howser for LA in the 60s & 70s. Warren Olney, another LA treasure, not unexpectedly did a wonderful job of summarizing what made Ralph great: “He was able to use humor and irony to make a serious point, something you virtually never see on television anymore…. [His] attitude of amused detachment could transmit devastating critiques and probing analyses without being harsh or mean-spirited, much less boring. He made serious journalism a pleasure to watch."

Of course, that was when there was serious journalism on local newscasts. That, and now Ralph himself, have joined his own list http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0325841/, of “things that aren’t here anymore.”

Christopher Knight

Totally unconnected sidenote on beer

I’m English by lineage… one summer when I obviously had nothing else to do, I traced the family line back to Northamptonshire, England, mid-1500’s. So, yes, I’ve got some pride in my heritage.

But the English drink their beer warm. Good God, what an awful idea. Drinking unrefrigerated beer is like watching a VH-1 reality show; every minute, you’re reminded “this is just wrong.”

Of course, you can help the beer situation by just burying that baby in some ice for a few minutes. I’m not sure what can be done for Christopher Knight.

From today’s news, Sept 26, 2006!

Gibson's Promotion of New Movie Leaves Jews Baffled

Director’s cut of “Passion” has Jesus come down off cross and beat Pharisees senseless with a bottle of Tequila, then drive away in Lexus LS 430. 

Have You or Your Kids Had Problems With Rubber Clogs?

You know, if you’d be more careful what you put down it, it wouldn’t clog.

Dallas Cowboys’ Terrell Owens In Suicide Attempt

What, he just realized Drew Bledsoe is quarterbacking this team?

Air Force Jet Wins Battle in Congress

Multiple strafing runs wear down beleaguered and outgunned legislators.

For the Third Time, a Jury Fails to Convict Gotti

This just in: Most humans still averse to having kneecaps broken.

Mr. Blutto

Source of Spinach Taint Located

“I didn’t do nuthin’ wrong,” claims farm owner A. W. Blutto.

Secretary Vows to Improve Results of Higher Education

“Anticipating at least six more years of a GOP-led government, we need to prepare graduates for the real American economy,” said Secretary of Education Margaret Spellings. “We’re therefore cutting English, literature, and philosophy, and requiring 12 units of Computer Game Beta Testing and Bedpan Changing. The foreign language requirements will also be reconfigured so that each graduate will be tested on their ability to say ‘Welcome to Wal-Mart’ in 12 different languages.”

And finally, on the sad state of American manufacturing,

Wagoner Says GM Can Save Itself but Open to Alliances

Of course, why didn’t we think of this before!

Dad at the Anime Expo

I went to the Anime Expo with my 11-year-old daughter today. For all of you out there who make fun of Trekkies (Trekkers?) and their conventions… oh my, you have no idea. I had forgotten how much work a teenager will put into becoming someone as far removed from themselves as possible. All that eyeliner and hair-gel and Styrofoam and hot glue and hair dye and spandex. There’s even a word for it, “cosplay,” or costumed role-play. Yet somehow they all still looked like the president of the chess club or the assistant editor of the index for the yearbook. I couldn’t believe nobody thought to book a Clearasil booth.

Actual conversation with my daughter as we sat against the exhibit hall wall sucking down overpriced drinks:

Me: “Look at this program! There’s six different rooms running 24 hour videos! There’s everything! They’re running Miyazaki! Oh my lord, they’re running Astro Boy!” (begins waving arms frantically).

Daughter: “Dad, stop acting weird! You’re embarrassing me!”

[Three six-foot goth girls walk by, with black, white, and pink hair, in 14 inch platform shoes. One may have been male.]

[Long pause]

Daughter: “Never mind.”

The number of women in this industry is pretty amazing, as was the number of girls at the Expo. I’ve been to a few comics conventions, and there’s like three women in the whole building, and two are paid to be there. But more than half the panelists here were female, and the ‘artist’s room’ where original art is sold and created was almost all women.  

Not that there weren’t lots of males around. Lots of anxious Asian teen boys taking millions of cellphone pictures of giggly skimpily-costumed Asian teen girls. And maybe it’s just me, but a 40-year-old guy dressed as Mario, including plunger, kinda creeps me out. That, and the handful of guys dressed in all black, with gray hair to the middle of their back and looking vaguely like Christopher Walken. Does Alberto Gonzales know about this place?  Does Agent Mulder?

Now, when I was young, like I said, anime was Astro Boy and Kimba the White Lion. I even pre-date Speed Racer. And I finally saw Miyazaki’s Howl’s Moving Castle the other day and almost fell off my chair; this guy has an imagination that just puts Lucas and Spielberg and maybe even the Pixar guys to shame. 

But I’m not sure where the rest of this stuff is going. Some of the video screenings that were on: Desert Punk, Place Promised in Our Early Days, Paranoia Agent, Irresponsible Captain Tylor, His and Her Circumstance, Fruits Basket, Slayers Great (and, as an upgrade, Slayers Premium), Read or Die, Boys Over Flowers, Magical Shopping Arcade, Strawberry Eggs, Burst Angel, Secret of the Lovely Eyepatch, Strawberry Marshmallow (what’s the thing with strawberries?), Scrapped Princess, Cutie Honey, This Ugly Yet Beautiful World, and of course, Doggie Poo. I’m assuming the Farrelly brothers have already locked up the English-language rights for that last one. We missed the American Idol contest; if the judges were overdubbed Japanese (like “Iron Chef”), I’m buying the DVD. 

When we got home, my daughter looked a little shell-shocked. My wife tried to explain to her that it was like a cross-cultural experience, and those can be inordinately tiring. My daughter seemed to think the problem was more likely blisters. I’m going to try and drag her back tomorrow, but I’m not going to push my luck; we’re supposed to go to the San Diego ComiCon in three weeks and I don’t want to burn her out. I told her that Ray Bradbury was going to be at the ComiCon, and she said, “Who?”

Sigh. At least she knows who Miyazaki is.