The Short Con

I'd planned to post a long report on the Chicago Comic Con today, but I'm mad as assholes and not really up to any extended reportage.

However, because I don't want to let more than a week go by without posting, I'll give you kids one brief story.

I met artist Gene Ha at the DC Booth, where he was both signing and sketching. Through a bit of good fortune, I was the first in line for him. When he got to the booth, he asked if anyone had only stuff to sign (i.e. wanted no sketches), and he let them go to the front of the line. A cool move, if you ask me. I don't mind waiting for people who just want to get their books signed.

Once that was done, I handed Mr. Ha my sketchbook. Then, in what seemed like a daze, I heard the following: "Here's the rule for sketches--I'll only sketch you as a superhero."

Now, I thought about asking him to do one of my favorites (i.e. Batman, Green Lantern, Daredevil), but they all wear masks. I figured that might come off as a bit smart-assy. So, I decided to go with a more...traditional approach.

What's really terrifying is how much that actually looks like me.

More to come, including my run-in with a famous comics writer in a bathroom. Which was also really terrifying.


Read: Fortune and Glory by Brian Michael Bendis
Watch: As Tears Go By (dir. Wong Kar-wai, 1988)
Listen to: The Hare's Corner (Cuinne an Ghiorria) by Colm Mac Con Iomaire

Motivated by My Duty

If you know me at all, then you'll know what this link means.

http://www.007.com/#/video

Click it.

Now.

Sorry, you must have misunderstood me. NOW!

What to Say

I've been thinking all day about what I wanted to say about George Carlin's death. He was a man whose talent with, and insight into, our language and our society were singularly unrivalled. I've admired for him decades (dishearteningly strange that I can now say that with some truth).

My dad would let me watch Carlin's HBO specials with him ever since I was a kid, and I swear neither of us laughed so hard in all our lives. Indeed, I think Carlin was a huge influence on my dad's sense of humor, as well as his sense of the world (much as my dad might not think so sometimes). As a result of that connection, Carlin was an equally huge influence both on my sense of humor, and my sense of the world. I also shared the most trivial connection with Carlin: we had the same birthday.

All that said, though, I've been thinking all day, and I just haven't come up with words good enough for him. And, then, right before I go to bed this evening, Jon Stewart supplies me with the words I'm looking for.

At the end of his broadcast, Stewart simply said, "I'm getting awfully tired of the people we need leaving us."

And it hurts me to think how true that is...with regard to more than just Mr. Carlin.

I'm done for the evening. A good night to you all.

Lying Math Shaman

Per someone's request, I give you a statement I made about The Happening, yet another actively awful film by M. Night Shyamalan.

The nice thing for me is that it's not a twist ending...it's just a poorly scripted ending.

More Bits of Tid

Here's another smattering of material I've been too busy or too lazy to talk about in any extended fashion. I'd give you more intro, but I'm tired and require time to read the week's comics.

Let's be off, then:

While looking at the Grendel: War Child TPB from Dark Horse, I noticed the warning "Not for Children" on it. I'd like this to be the only rating system out there. It clearly demarcates what the kids should stay away from, and it would also tend to the adults who are, you know, idiots.

I really want to get to a place where my wardrobe consists of a great deal of bespoke clothing. Suits from Savile Row, shirts from Jermyn Street...yes, yes, that'd be just fine. Throw some Brioni in for good measure.

Along those lines, I think I'll be Jack Donaghy next Halloween.

Or perhaps Doctor Who.

Brown bags and comic shops. These two things should not go together. Some might say comics are enough like porn already; we don't need the sketchy bags to remind us. I'm not saying we should board and polybag it all either; I'm just saying...

The Mist is what Cloverfield should have been: a monster movie that heeds yet plays with monster movie conventions while giving us a story with people about whose fate the audience gives more than a damn. Admittedly, the very end of The Mist is upsetting to me, but at the same time, I haven't stopped thinking about it (or wanted to). Aside from that, I'd say it's easily one of the best--if not THE best--horror films since Ringu. And why haven't I seen a horror film in a grocery store before now?

Very, very curious about The Moneypenny Diaries. The first book in Kate Westbrook's trilogy just came out here in the States; it's been out in the UK for some time. As soon as I finish Devil May Care, it's on to Ms. Moneypenny as well as more Young Bond, which is a surprisingly well written series of YA novels.

While I'm talking about Bond, both Sean Connery and Roger Moore have autobiographies coming out later this year. Mr. Lazenby? Mr. Dalton? You're up next.

On a wholly different subject, I guess I really am just an old softie at heart. "A rank sentimentalist," as Claude Rains once said.

Once upon a time, this guy who worked at the Frugal Muse (a secondhand bookstore in Madison) said the following: "Chicks dig the predicate nominative." Not only is this one of the most hilarious statements ever uttered, I find an unusual amount of truth in it.

If only we'd declare war on corporate language...I'd be Patton in that army.

From a future episode of Jeopardy: Comics for $200. The answer: admirably and annoyingly erudite fan fiction, both overlong and overwrought. "What is The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen: The Black Dossier?" That is correct. I'll be lucky if I finish this damn thing by November (a full year after its release).

For you folks outside of Madison, you're likely not familiar with one of the most impressive public access shows ever: for an hour or two, it's just a static shot of meat on a grill. Burning. To a crisp. It's unnaturally compelling. I will stop whatever I'm doing when I see it, so instantly hypnotized do I become. I was reminded of this at the gym the other night, where one of the tvs had it on, much to my surprise. Just gives me a little solace knowing something that bizarre is still on, since I hadn't seen it sometime. For you Madisonians, anybody remember what the hell that show's called?

A plea to everyone: stop using the word "impactful." Know why? IT'S NOT A WORD.

Read this: http://www.davidbordwell.net/blog/?p=2315. You'll find it very much worth your time. Although half of you, I expect, have already read it. The other half, get to it.

Know what your next hit show should be, Showtime? A remake of The Sandbaggers, starring Hugh Laurie as Neil Burnside. Dynamite.

A heartbreakingly good cover for this past week's issue of The New Yorker. Unfortunately, I can't find a higher-res version. http://www.adrian-tomine.com/Illustrations/ATNewYorkerE.jpg

Mental note: acquire lair.

And, finally, while I'm a DC guy through-and-through, it's hard not to gush over this last page of Marvel's Secret Invasion #3: http://www.comicbookresources.com/news/preview2.php?image=previews/marvelcomics/secretinvasion/spoilers/3/SECINV003_intLOW-32.jpg

Welcome back, Mr. Fury.


Read: Queen & Country (All Volumes), by Greg Rucka & Friends
Watch: Intacto (dir. Juan Carlos Fresnadillo, 2001)
Listen to: Sarah Shannon by, well, Sarah Shannon

An' the fragbaggin' schnabcrabber...

...goes inta the muck-ruckin'.

I said I would post something on Bond soon. However, I'd like it to be a review of Devil May Care, and that will take a while. I'm doing my damnedest to savor this book, hence the delay.

See, normally I'd just gobble up a new Bond book like a fresh slice of my mother's homemade chocolate-chip apple cake. The thing is, I don't know when the next one's going to come out, and I need for this one to last me a while.

I will say this, though, in preview of my review: so far, Faulks has got the Fleming sweep down PERFECTLY. And I never thought I'd be able to say that of anyone. I've tried to stay away from reviews of the book for fear of spoilers, but I have heard there's a bit of negative press for it out there. And while it's possible that I may change my mind...eh, who am I kidding? It's great...and soon, I'll tell you why.

As I said, though, I want to take my time with it. It's a difficult thing, I tell ya.

Kind of like getting your friebestacker caught in your clatella hanger. And then you've gotta get a touch of sudafratz and mix it with a dash of snigafritz to fix the whole thing up. Which actually kinda sums up how I've been feeling lately.

Oh, yeah...and I finally started watching Lost. Reminds me of starting out with BSG or V. Mars for the first time. It's that good.

Time to sack out. And hey, look: it's hell time.


Read: GrimJack, by John Ostrander
Watch: The Hound of the Baskervilles (dir. Terence Fisher, 1959)
Listen to: Mozart's Symphony No. 40 in G Minor