Today's installment of Indescribable Awesomeness is brought to you by the letters P and A.

Was I a Warhammer nerd?

No.

Was I a tabletop gaming nerd?

Maybe.

I won't be picking up Warhammer Online, but I've always had a smirking respect for Games Workshop. Their models were so cartoony and goofy, but undeniably fun/cool.

And expensive. Very, very expensive.

It was always fun to walk into a game store and see a foot long tank filled with intricately hand-painted Space marines lying on the game table. I didn't have the money the buy them, the patience to paint them, or the friends to play with them. For those three gaping holes in my adolescence, I am eternally grateful.

I miss tabletop gaming. Electronic gaming seems so sterile by comparison. How do you get pizza stains and spilled Mountain Dew into your MMO? I doubt Games Workshop will ever work the same vibe into the online evironment.

(Although Dawn of War is solid shooty RTS fun, with sharp sticks poking out of it.)

Aaaaand I think I'll end this post right here before they take my Learner's Permit away and the gym class beatings re-commence...

I'm gonna find my baby, woo! Before that sun goes down...

Still no baby. He remains trapped in that fortress of bedding and IV tubes, with smiley scrub-bedecked nurses as his captors.

Maybe in a couple days.

This is a drag.

Currency for Paper: DMZ #4

Okay, I'm sold.
I've been back and forth about DMZ. I haven't wanted to commit to it either way and say "Yeah, I need to buy this book."

Issue 4 sealed the deal.

Recap: New York City is at war. Matty is a journalist who has been ditched in the warzone. He's the only correspondent in the DMZ. He has no support, no camera crew, just a press pass and a laptop.

Issue four details Matty's investigation of a legend floating around the DMZ about a group of "ghosts" haunting Central Park. Matty finds them.

The story is about vision, environmental preservation, and sacrifice for a common goal. No solutions are offered, but thought-provoking, heady questions are.

Honest opinion? The cover alone is worth the price. These DMZ covers just keep jumping off the rack at me.

It's on my pull list now.

Currency for Paper: Planetary #24

Things are starting to make sense in Planetary. Not that they haven't during the rest of the series, but everything's being tied up into one tidy little package.

A quiet stretch of explicatory dialogue, followed by a scene of unimagineable violence.

I don't even know why I'm reviewing this book, because everything is going to be very clear next issue at the series conclusion. Or completely disorienting and confusing.

Either way, it is going to be so freaking cool, I promise.

Great art, punchy words filled with meaty plot links. Can't wait for the next issue.

NO DEAL! NO, WAIT!

No, I don't watch that masterpiece of modern television. The adverts are enough to make me want to force myself to sit down and actually watch the show, so I could die.

Because stupid gameshows, yes, make me die.

On to more important matters in the life-bubble I call my world.

Conner-boy is progressing nicely and we're hoping he can come home by the end of the week. Eating well, breathing better, off the IV. Very, very great news, but we're pretending that he can't come home for another month so we can be thrilled when he comes home on Friday.

And he better be home by Friday. Or we'll be devastated.

Until a few moments ago, I didn't know what day this was. Everything since last Wednesday has been a distorted sleepless blur.

I really ought to get something done other than my Michael Keaton/Mr. Mom impersonation. Dishes/diapers/laundry/cleaning I'm on top of.

Cooking? You can't make me talk.

Put the alligator clips down.

We're all doing fine, much better than usual, because we're happy that there's more of us. Our plurality has increased. That we're currently split into two factions (Hospital faction vs. Home faction) is immaterial. We're all going to be fine. We'll just be happier when we're all under the same roof.

By the way, my son is a snuggle machine. He would be a foolproof interrogation device, as physical contact with him immediately saps your will to resist his snuggly cuteness. No pain, no begging for mercy, just an immediate descent into mushiness.

I'm doing all I can to make sure he doesn't fall into the wrong hands.

You have my word, Mr. President.

Gentlemen, we can rebuild him...

Here's Daddy's little 6-Million-Dollar Man.

Sure, the IV and oxygen make it look like he's having a hard time, but I just like to think he's a cyborg.

Breathing better and eating like a starved wolverine at the moment. Uh, badger.

Yes, he looks like me! Why would you say he doesn't look like me?

No pics yet.

No one can win with the "My baby's cuter than your baby" battle.

So I will impress you with numbers:

Born 10:53pm, March 30, 2006.
6 pounds 3 ounces
19 inches long
25 hours of labor.

Conner Lewis Richmond. I know, not a number.

Baby and Mother are both fine. Mom is doing exceptionally well, and is already walking around, arranging things, lifting Volkswagons over her head.

Conner is very pink and extremely cute. He has a lot of spikey blond hair. Came out with a mohawk. Billy Idol is not the father.

He's still got a little fluid in his lungs, so he's grunting a little while he breathes. He's on oxygen to help him out for the time being, but we're very optimistic. When he's being held by Mama, his oxygen saturation shoots up to 100% and the grunting stops, so Mom is going to be camping out in the nursery. His breathing dramatically improves just by being in physical contact with her and hearing her voice.

He smiled when Mom stroked his arm.

He's very hungry, but can't feed yet until his lungs are stronger. Until then, he's on an IV.

Thanks to everyone for the help, calls, and prayers. Pictures are forthcoming.

Now for a nap.

D-Day

Baby being induced today.

Not sleeping.

Nothing ready.

Incapable of complete sentences.

Updates when more coherent.

Where am I? And why am I wearing mittens?

Long night last night. Got to spend most of it at the hospital. Mrs. Badger's pregnancy is not going optimally. The doctors were -this- close to having the baby inducted. Which would have meant I would be a new daddy this morning.

Needless to say, nothing is ready. We didn't even pack any clothes.

We get to go back for more tests today.
And tomorrow.
And probably the day after that.

I can already tell I can write off sleep for the next month. Seems like a good time to start taking hallucinogenic drugs and start writing my masterpiece. Working title:

Adventures in Baby-having.

I love Marvel Comics, but...

You know what?

Screw Marvel.

Rethinking this whole CA idea...

Home sweet home.

Not Thinking Words.

Quote for the day, courtesy of today's installment of the ingenious webcomic, Concerned:

"I don't have any idea about a lot of things."
-Gordon Frohman

Three days, three acres, three thousand men

I don't know if you read Achewood, but if you don't at least read the Great Outdoor Fight story arc going on right now, you're not a real man.

The violence started on January 25.

Ray and Roast Beef, jeeps doing wheelies, gasoline, and handguns.

This was a webcomic about cats and stuffed animals, at one point. No clue what happened.

Go Read This, Then Rent A Sinbad Movie

No, not that Sinbad.

Neat interview with Ray Harryhausen at the Onion.

It feels like he needs some sort of title of nobility. You can't just say Ray Harryhausen, it should be Master Animator Ray Harryhausen, or Lord Of Creatures Ray Harryhausen.

Thinking Words

"The promise of the internet is that we all become publishers (if we choose)...from news, blogs, games, music, and movies....this is the "New Economy". The "Old Economy" is dominated by the gatekeepers, the middlemen--the ones that own the means of distribution, starting with railroads."

-ChenLing from Slashdot

Fine.

So Don called me out.

Yeah, there are still decent superhero books out there. And surprise, some of them are even coming from the Big Two.

There are a few superhero books that I enjoy consistently: Invincible and Planetary. Nextwave may join that list, I'll see what the Director's Cut looks like. I guess Hellboy counts as a superhero book. I also buy and like Ex Machina, although I'm not in love with it.

So what's my problem with superheroes? They're an American tradition. They're icons. Name one kid who hates Spiderman. Superheroes are cool.

And yet... they've been around (in their current, cheap newsprint form) for nearly a century. And they don't age well. Or maybe their readers don't age well.

I loved Rob Liefeld comics when I was a kid, heaven knows why. Maybe it was the angsty feathering on everything. Maybe it was the crazy posture and anatomically impossible contortions of the characters. It was pure fluff. But I dug it.

And then I hit puberty. I grew up. And I look back at that stuff and I gag. I can't believe I spent money on (had a subscription to!) X-Force.

Gah. My head hurts just thinking about it.

Sitcoms. Comics are so similar to sitcoms, this will make my non-existent point much clearer. They're a dime a dozen. When they're truly original and funny, they age well. When they suck... well, they suck. And each new sitcom tries harder and harder to be funny, because the premises are so dried out, but statistically well-proven: Goofy, boorish man marries hot woman and they argue about man and woman stuff and how they're different. Where have we seen this? King of Queens, Everybody Loves Raymond, Family Guy, Mad About You, Home Improvement, Married With Children, Just the Ten of Us, Family Matters, the Cosby Show.

Simpsons, I whisper, fearfully.

Bewitched.

I Dream Of Genie.

I Love Lucy.

The Honeymooners.

It's a blueprint for success. And there's some seriously funny material in that list. But it's reached a straining point. The majority of it hurts my brain.

For every sitcom out there, there are probably an hundred superheroes, each one lovingly drawn at some kid's breakfast table. And they're all Superman/Batman/Wolverine clones.

I guess the punchline to this rambling is that the industry has made making comics harder than it really is.

It's hard to come up with really cool, original superhero. Even harder to come up with an original plot. If you can do it, and come up with truly original stuff, you're set. Either that, or you must cleverly disguise your rehashed material so that only the most intense Comic Book Guy notices that you're phoning it in. Maybe I am that Comic Book Guy, and that's why it bothers me so much.

So point one, originality.

Point two: continuity.
If your character has fought evil for fifty years, and hasn't aged or gotten killed, move on. No one is keeping score anymore. No, dying and miraculously coming back doesn't count.

Point three: maturity.
Here's a meaty one. Nearly every comic fan I know started out as a kid. They will nearly always maintain a level of affection for the books they grew up on, particularly their first books. I loved my jacked up copy of Gold Key Magnus: Robot Fighter #24. I was in love with the cover, particularly. I was probably five or six. What's not to love about this cover? Besides the gogo boots.

My tastes have changed. I want some serious writing in my comics. I'd also like some serious art. I don't mean serious, serious, I mean of a higher strata of creative effort. I'm looking for books from creators that pour as much affection into their work as I pour into enjoying them. Enough milk, I want some meat. Love is easy to recognize, and lasts. Love's not the right word: Passion is probably what I want. I want to open a book and say: "Wow, I bet that guy loved drawing that." If I see that passion, I'll spend the two or three bucks on the book without thinking about it.

A Brian Wood cover will do it.
A Cassaday full-page spread will do it.
An Ellis chunk of biting dialogue will do it.
A Diggle plot will do it.

I'm not trying to convince you of anything, I'm trying to convince me. I don't hate superheroes. I just really, really like new, original, craftsmanship.

But comics are a junk medium anyway, so I'm probably looking in the wrong place.

Nah, that couldn't possibly be it.

Comics Rundown: Nextwave #2

So, more Warren Ellis. Doing a superhero book.

I missed issue #1. It flew under my radar. I'll try to find it somewhere. Did I miss anything major?

Nextwave is a team superhero book. It feels like Ellis tearing apart everything he hates about team superhero books.

Fin Fang Foom, the mythical dragon who always looks more awesome when drawn by Art Adams, is destroying a city. He is a UWMD (Unusual Weapon of Mass Destruction).

I think there's some backstory about why Nextwave is fighting Fin Fang Foom, but I missed it. And it doesn't matter.

Warren Ellis, the series writer, is one of the superheroes in Nextwave, except he's called Machine Man. Naturally, he steals the show, because he hates humans, is alcoholic, and has sharp pointy objects inside him.

I rant against superhero books, because I hate them. I feel betrayed by them. I do not feel betrayed by Nextwave. I am reminded of Peter David's X-Factor run when reading it.

The art is serviceable. It's not terrific, but also not distracting. It's Marvel. It's colorful and light.

The writing? There might be a plot in there somewhere. Where Nextwave shines is the dialogue and scene composition. A giant dragon threatens to stuff you in his pants. I don't think that's ever been done before.

Let's not let that happen again.

I'll probably grab this one off the rack, but I don't think I'll add it to my pull list. I not-so-secretly hope the series is cut short, because it feels gimmicky. I can almost imagine the Marvel execs waving the fan of cash under Ellis' nose, cooing "One more superhero book... you won't feel a thing..."

And Ellis is muttering, "Fine, you want your superheroes? Here, deal with some of this madness..."

Comics Rundown: Fell #4

NIXON NUN MUST DIE.

Not buying this book is inexcusable. It's two dollars. It's a complete story. And it will hurt you. This book will hurt you, because after a few issues of the punishment that this series dishes out, you will realize two things:

1. People hurt other people.
2. There's nothing you can do about it.

Detective Fell has those steaming facts and a floating corpse shoved in his face in #4. And cuts a deal (more like a threat) with Snowtown:

"Every time you take one... I'm going to take one back."

Greasy crime fiction, with no real answers, based on real events that Warren Ellis dug up on some awful, mindbreaking newsfeed.

Templesmith offering up foggy streets that look like they want to mug you and cut your face off.

The format works. The story feels satisfying when you get to the end. Nine panels per page. I'm excited for Matt Fraction's Casanova series using the same price/format.

Two dollars.

No excuse.

Comics Rundown Update

Digging through the pile, I've determined that I've bought too many comics since January 17th. Reviewing them would take roughly the same amount of time that it would take me to singlehandedly building a pyramid. Not one of those pansy Mayan pyramids, one of those Gaza jobbers.

So here's the deal. I'll review what I feel strongly about, either positive or negative. And I'll try to be specific about what the book works or doesn't work for me. And if I'm gonna keep buying it.

Solid?

Solid.

Frisbee Abuse

Neat article about the making of TRON.

Did I hit my brothers with frisbees after seeing this film?

Yes. Yes, I did.

Oddly enough, my marriage to my wife happened partially because of TRON. On our first date, within two minutes, I had discovered that she had never seen it. A fierce argument ensued. The date survived the argument, proving that this was a woman I could successfully argue with.

And now we're married.

And that mule went on to save Spring Break.

There goes my game budget.

Must Have.






From the geniuses at Schadenfreude Interactive.

...

Thanks for the podcast recs. Slowly working my way through them.

Listened to the first Wordballoon cast with Brian Michael Bendis. I never want to read another Marvel comic again. Listening to Mr. Bendis answer questions like:

"Will Spiderwoman ever have a crossover with Ultimate Thunderbolts after the House of M?"

makes me realize two things. First, I came to the realization that I've gone through a series of certain special changes (called puberty) which have changed me from a boy to a man. Second, the mere idea of superhero continuity (either Marvel or DC) makes me want to pay a homeless guy to tie me to a chair and make me read every email in my Spam box.

I'm sure Bendis is a fine writer. I haven't read any of his work yet. He came on long after I ceased consuming Marvel products. But the idea of these soap-operatic universes meshing into one coherent travesty of a fictional world is ludicrous.

The editorial review process for DC or Marvel books looks like an exercise in madness. This character can't die, because they have a new series coming out. This character can't guest star in this story in Antarctica, because they're in Rwanda in their own book this month. You can't have Batman trace a supervillain by his fingerprints, because that villain had his prints burned off forty years ago in Superman's Girlfriend Lois Lane #45.

I'm surprised these two companies are still in business. Infinite Crisis #4 (of 7!) was the top selling book in January. 182,633 people bought it. Which means there are almost 200,000 people out there willing to eat literary feces.

You can't blame this on the kids. The kids are not reading this stuff, they're downing manga like crack fiends, for better or worse. These consumers are my age, or older. This is the demographic of the man-child. The gamer generation's taken a lot of heat for the "30 year old living in his parents' basement" stereotype. It's an inaccurate image. The 30 year old gamer got an education and a job. The 30 year comic guy is still in their parents' basement. The Simpson's Comic-Book-Guy stereotype is well-deserved.

How many issues of Desolation Jones #5 sold in January? 17,160.

I know, I don't have much of a right to whine "You don't like the same books I do!" I can't stop Fox from canceling Arrested Development if no one else watches it. I can't go into people's homes and make them turn off Skating With Celebrities.

I guess I'm coming to the realization that good art is rarely popular art. I've known this before, but I've not truly internalized it until now. I'm still growing up.

I think I'm done. I don't want continuity, ever again. I'll hold on to my Claremont X-Men storylines from my childhood, and call it good.

Again, I don't blame Bendis, or any other writer/editor/artist. I blame the market.

Keep on shoveling that crap.

Placeholder

Yesterday was new comic day. Lots of stuff to review. I raided the 25 cent bin as well, to great and pleasing effect.

And of course, there's the pile of comics from last trip which remain unreviewed. I suck.

Fine.

I'll knock it out.

Soliciting Podcast Recommendations

Goodness, I need something interesting to listen to at work.

Particularly interested in comics writing/publishing themed podcasts.

Definitely open to other topics. Cinecast is interesting every so often, but much of the time I have very little interest in the films they review.

I've yet to try TWIT, mostly because sadly, at the end of the day, I'm all "tech"ed out. If it's really all that great, I'll try it. Leo Laporte's an okay guy, but I wasn't in love with him or anything when he was at Tech TV.

I'm liking Secondcast for the Second Life background, but the commentators give me a headache.

Enlighten me. I'll try just about anything at this point. Except gay vegan cooking shows. Or anything involving or remotely related to the word "spin."

English or Spanish will do.

So in love.

Sometimes you gotta wake up and remind yourself just how awesome Project Gutenberg is.

How do you know if your game kicks Halo's butt?

When your enemies look like this:

Just wanted to eliminate any confusion. By the way, this is not a cutscene, it's an in-game shot.

Dear Dr. Breen, What up Dawg?

You should read Concerned, if you liked Half Life 2.

Or any video games.

Or are interested in machinima.

Or anything funny.

Of particular hilarity is Gordon Frohman's adventures in the lost Counterstrike server.

By the way, Half Life 2 kicks Halo's wimpy pansy tushy. Just so's you know.

Now A Major Moving Pitcher-Show

I'm in Elizabethtown.

And I have no freaking idea why anyone filmed anything here.

It's kinda pretty, relatively hilly, sort of cold, nicely spread out.

It's okay, it's not terrible, but not memorable.

I am, however, EXTREMELY DISAPPOINTED that I can't take a tour of Fort Knox. You know, personally guided by Auric Goldfinger himself.

EXTREMELY DISAPPOINTED.

KENTUCKY! WHY DO YOU DENY ME?

*Shrug*

I think I just wet my pants.

Japanese Spiderman PWNS.

Every time I hear about quantum computing...

I feel like burning witches.

Quantum computing is so far outside my experience with computational theory that I am as a club-wielding heathen, perplexed and frightened by the missionaries' so-called "science."

It's sorcery.

I need to read a lot now, just so I can make this correlate with every other bit of knowledge I've accumulated so far.

Next I'll be driving to places without getting in my car.

UPDATE: Okay, I feel a little better. Thanks, Slashdot. Mod +5 Informative/Funny. I'm going to be thinking about Schroedinger's Seppuku all day now.

Yeah.

So I need to update my links. I'll get around to it.

All I Need Is The Air That I Breath And To Love You.

I'm in the mood for a movie. In space. With monsters.

I think I need to rent Forbidden Planet.

In other news, I think I need to take up pyromania. I've discovered that I own ten million things, and they are all piled up in cardboard boxes in my new place. Things I couldn't possibly need. How could I need them? They're in boxes. If I needed them, I'd be looking for them.

I'm not looking for anything.

I nearly killed myself moving this past weekend. I'm discovering that not only do I own things I don't want, in some cases I own two or three of the same unneeded thing. It's like they're replicating.

Allow me to explain. Physical items have mass. When you have ten million physical items, even extremely small items, they weigh enough to kill a human male in his late twenties.

Things not only have weight (which, I must remind you, can kill you), but they have spacial dimensions, such as height, width, and depth. These are limiting factors. If you don't have room for ten million items, you're in trouble.

So now the only item I wish I had (but don't) is a flamethrower.



I will not deceive you. I was (am?) a Dungeons and Dragons nerd.

I loved playing a monk in DnD. Being a kung fu master was cool, but that wasn't what appealed to me. It was the SIMPLICITY. Monks don't carry weapons. They don't wear armor. They don't need money. They just beat the crap out of stuff.

I'd find myself rolling up monks, just so I wouldn't have to deal with recording all that annoying equipment on my character sheet.

So in summary, I'm so lazy, I don't even want to own things.

Hey.

Have a good week.

Moving.

Switching apartments this week. Won't have much time for updates. Still have a pile of comics I want to write about.

Going to Kentucky in a couple weeks. Will be staying in Elizabethtown(!). No, haven't seen the movie. Looked painfully lame. Maybe I'll meet Legolas, and fullfill the dream of adolescent girls everywhere.

Looking forward to that extra bedroom.

Adios.

Tycho on the Superbowl

From the good gents at Penny Arcade:
"In any case, this will be the last time I invest myself in a game where I have no power to determine the outcome. I really feel a need to emphasize the distinction between this and the sort of game that usually occupies my time. When I feel the kind of plundered devastation I felt on Sunday, there is usually a "learning phase" that follows it. It's the first step in a process, a chain of well-documented events which culminates in the expulsion self-doubt and leaves as the remainder the possibility of future victory. Provided, of course, that I have internalized the deep wisdom presented by the universe - taken the yoke of that strange intellect which courses through defeat."

This sums up precisely my issue with televised sports. You watch, someone wins, someone loses, and networks get paid. There is no phase of this process in which you actively participate.

In any kind of gaming (electronic, athletic, board, etc.), if you get your butt whipped, there's something you can do about that.

I watched the first half of the Super-Dee-Duper Bowl. Glimpsed the second half.

Then I sat down to play a game of Memory against Kate.

She beat me soundly. The kid has a photographic memory when it comes to cards laid out in a grid.

I think I'm going to need to start practicing Memory on my lunch breaks.

Joey's right again.

The Losers is a terrific book. Read the first nine issues last night.

Boy, it's good. It's like the A-Team, only with lots of killing. Great double-crosses, intense conspiracies, and lots of killing. Did I mention there's lots of killing? Lots of it.

Lots.

The fun part is, every time the Losers go on a mission, they go in with the intent of not killing anyone. And then things go bad, and they kill everyone anyway. So the killing's okay, because, you know, it's not intentional.

Of course, I'm not giving enough credit to the intricate plot, hilarious dialogue, and strong characterization. It's a Clancy novel with a sense of humor and a Patriot-Act-Age distrust of government agencies. And the art is very impressive. I'm surprised at how much I'm geeking out over Jock's panel layouts. That's right, panel layouts. The drawings are great as well, but the panel placement paces the action just right. So many good things going on with this book.

I feel like double-crossing someone, just because the Losers makes it so cool.

Just don't try to write anything immediately after reading this stuff, because you'll just want to write like Andy Diggle.

So Joey was right. Again.

What a jerk.

24 last night.

I can't believe I'm blogging about television...

But, holy crap, I was dying to see Jack Bauer take that dude's eye out. In hindsight, I kind of wish the whole episode was of Jack beating the crap out of that guy in front of the President.

It'd go like this:
11:00am
Shot of the President staring calmly at action off-camera. We hear the sounds of a man being beaten. Cut to Jack beating the crap out of Cummings.
JACK: TELL US WHERE THE NERVE GAS IS!
CUMMINGS: NEVER!
Jack continues to torture Cummings for fifteen minutes.
Cut to commercial.

11:15am
Shot of the President staring calmly at action off-camera. We hear the sounds of a man being beaten. Cut to Jack beating the crap out of Cummings.
JACK: TELL US WHERE THE NERVE GAS IS!
CUMMINGS: NEVER!
Jack pulls out knife.
JACK: I'LL CUT YOUR EYES OUT!
CUMMINGS: GO RIGHT AHEAD!
Jack cuts Cummings' eyes out and continues to torture him.
Cut to commercial.

11:30am
Shot of the President staring calmly at action off-camera. We hear the sounds of a man being beaten. Cut to Jack beating the crap out of Cummings. Cumming is eyeless and bleeding profusely.
JACK: TELL US WHERE THE NERVE GAS IS!
CUMMINGS: NEVER!
JACK: I'LL CUT YOUR ARMS AND LEGS OFF WITH MY LITTLE KNIFE!
CUMMINGS: I DARE YOU, YOU COWARD!
Jack cuts off Cummings' arms and legs, making a huge mess.

11:45am
Shot of the President staring calmly at action off-camera. We hear the sounds of a man being beaten. Cut to Jack beating the crap out of Cummings. Cummings is an eyeless bloody torso.
PRESIDENT: I'M THE PRESIDENT AND I APPROVE OF THIS BEATING.
JACK: TELL US WHERE THE NERVE GAS IS!
CUMMINGS: OKAY, YOU WIN. IT'S IN LOS ANGELES SOMEWHERE.
PRESIDENT: EXCELLENT WORK, JACK, YOU'RE THE BEST.
JACK: I KNOW, THANK YOU, MR. PRESIDENT. NOW IF YOU'LL EXCUSE ME, I HAVE TO GO STAVE OFF AN ALIEN INVASION.

Roll credits.

...

I should not be doing IT for a living.

Gary North just gets it.

Perhaps you don't know Gary North. You probably should. He's a grumpy old man. He's an economist. He's a scholar. And he knows a lot about money.

If Gary North says your industry is in trouble, your industry is probably in trouble. His points are the same that the geeks on Slashdot have been making for years, but from a purely monetary standpoint, instead of a "information wants to be free, yo" standpoint.

A business depending on lawsuits to survive is doomed.

Humans Are A Destructive Force Of Nature

We're unstoppable.

Oh, man.

It's 3am. Took a too-long nap, and now I can't sleep.

And I've been hit by a frightening realization.

If the 1994 version of me could see me now, he would kill me. Not in a figurative, "uhoh, I'm in trouble" sense. In a "he's going to kill me with the closest sharp object he can find" sense.

I was going to have books written by now. Comics published. Bills paid.

I was going to have a keen sense of humor. And biting cynicism. And marked brilliance.

I think my mid-life crisis is starting early. Please note, this isn't "I need to be driving a Ferrarri to feel better" vibeage.

This is, "My brain was a lot more useful than this" vibeage.

I think my younger self would be okay with some things. My family would get a big thumbs-up. My addiction to information would probably impress him too. I'm older and a bit wiser.

What would he not be okay with:
My willingness to let work life sap my creativity.
My compliance with brain-killing entertainment.
My long periods of couch potato behavior.
My lack of financial discipline.
My inability to finish anything of lasting value.

Yeah, he'd kill me.

This is why you don't stay up until 3am.

Going to bed, hoping I wake up in the morning.

Mostly successful

So, did I force my week to submit to my will?

Yes, I did.

I was in bed by 10pm nearly every night this week. I slept soundly. I was in a good mood. I even ate breakfast one day.

Work went well, for the most part.

No alarms, and no surprises.

I'm ready to hit the comic store, and spend the weekend reading, writing, and packing.

Smackdown

New week.

My plan is to take this week, tie it to a chair, and beat it with a rubber hose until it tells me what I want to hear.

I will get things done this week. Work will behave this week. No alarms and no surprises.

Bills will be paid, issues will be resolved.

And if this week gives me any lip, I'm shoving it into the trunk of a stolen car, and shoving it off a cliff.

Have a good week. I will, or else.

Comics Rundown 1/17/2006

Desolation Freakin' Jones #5 - Jones gets operated on. He gets to fondly remember the life-changing Desolation Experiments. We get the plot summarized for us, in case we're confused. Which we are, but that's okay. Jones gets even. Great fun. The art is very strong for the entire issue. I'm going to have Desolation-Experiment-shaped nightmares now. My only hazy point with this issue is the premise of utilizing Los Angeles as a Prisoner-esque Village for retired spooks. You'd think they'd want to store all these security liabilities in a tighter environment. How hard is it to sneak out of LA? I think Kurt Russell did it in a movie, which means it must be cake. I would think Billings, Montana would be a better candidate location. "Hey, my ex-spy neighbor's Winnebago is missing. Maybe I should call somebody. Oh, wait, there's nothing but 5-foot snow drifts for the next 1000 miles. That sucker's not going anywhere." I haven't made eye-contact with a single human being since I moved to California. As in, more than a month. Which I think is more than enough time for even the crappiest ex-spy to escape. I bet I'd make a terrific crappy ex-spy.

Y: The Last Man #41 - Hm, no Gay Cowboys, I'm a tad disappointed. However, we get a glimpse of the enigma that is 355. Character development. I'm finding the supporting characters are turning out much more interesting than Yorick. Yorick tends to be a bit... hm... Peter Parker. Wisecracks in volatile situations, interesting talents, a little rough history... Funny, but not someone I emotionally connect with. Everyone else just seems so much more jacked-up than Y. Half the population is wiped out, people are mutilating themselves, changing their belief systems, murdering each other. Yorick is still wandering around, looking for true love and his pet monkey, making with the funny. I'm still hanging in there, I'm still reading, and I'm not hating the book. Still not my favorite title though.

Exterminators #1 - Tony Moore Pwns. Not familiar with Simon Oliver. The story looks to have promise. As soon as a 100-foot tall cockroach begins devouring people and destroying the city, I'll hail this book as the next Dark Knight Returns. For now though, the writing isn't super-spectacular. Characterization is promising. The artwork just makes me wish Moore was back on Walking Dead. Maybe someday.

Penny Arcade 25 cent Miracle Book - Cut... Paste... Email pdf file to printer... Rock on, we have a comic book. I didn't get it. I love Penny Arcade. The comic was... from 5 years ago. Some funny old strips were present, sure. But no new material was presented. The really strange part is, I'm fairly sure the 25 cent price point wasn't even enough to recoup the printing and shipping costs. It's like somebody lost a bet. Just weird.

Why is my bed hidden by stuffed animals?

And why are there magnetic letters stuck in the soles of my feet?

And why are my ears ringing with the sound of a screaming child?

And where did all the Gummy Worms go?

Oh.

Right.

I'm a Dad.

I have no clue what's going on today.

Not sure where my head is at. Still reeling with hysterical laughter from reviewing the Chuck Norris Fact List with Troy last night. Wife-lady says I giggle like a teenager. Wife-lady will pay.

Sandpaper Kisses by Martina Topley Bird is knocking my socks off. Spooky, yet soothing.

To my good buddy Don: Yes, you indeed need to throw the Chaff Grenades to beat the first boss fight with Vulcan Raven on Metal Gear Solid. Confirmed. Don't worry, I won't tell anyone about your difficulties. Er, I guess I just did. Gamer cred: RUINED.

Snake? Snake! SNAAAAAAAAAKE!

Just went 24 hours without playing any Dystopia, and it did me good. Evil, evil, delicious Dystopia. Going for 48. Now hopefully I'll stop dreaming about grenade-spamming stealth-suited corporate assassins. That's me delivering the spamming, corps receiving spamming. Strange, strange dreams.

Watched 24 last night, missed the first 30 minutes of the first episode. Instead of seeing important characters dying, I was fixing a Zebra 170XiII label printer in a room full of controlled substances. Wife-lady filled me in on the pivotal early-goings-on. Too early to tell how well this season will shape up. Richard Nixon is president again. Somebody is gunning for Jack, and knows he's still alive. The head terrorist looks like, kid you not, Benny Hill.

WTFBBQ.

I'm digging the whole Diehard 2 terrorist-occupied airport angle this time around. And loving more ridiculous accents. Almost as painful as Dennis Hopper's accent in Season 1.

Jack shooting Palmer's sniper in the head makes for pleasing Sunday-night entertainment.

See, there should be a 24 drinking game. Every time a punk kid with long hair causes problems for Jack, take a drink. Seriously, somebody buy these kids a comb. The son of Jack's landlady is this season's problem child. Last season's was SecDef Heller's hippy son. Season 1 had Kim's idiot kidnappers.

Long hair = stoner idiot who needs to be shot or tortured.

Government-approved Jack-sported short hair = someone who could jump out of a plane (no parachute) with a HK-USP .45 and Kabar and singlehandedly wipe out a continent.

Like Jack.

Or Chuck Norris.

Reminder to self:

I've gotta use the following exchange in one of my scripts.

"You know that guilty feeling you get when you do something bad?"

"Yeah..."

"Don't worry, it goes away after a while."

I won't relate where or when this exchange took place.

OH SCHNIKEYS!

My blog is probably illegal...

It's broken, fix it.

Someone please explain to me why my two-year-old (almost two-and-a-half-year-old) is still calling me "Mommy."

Now I'm getting worried.

About her.

Okay, and about me. Maybe a little.

Bring it.

Set me on fire, will you?

Fine.

Epiphany!

It hit me last night what's so very wrong with California.

No winter makes people mean. You'd think it'd be the other way around. Californians should be the happiest people in the world.

Here's my take. People just need something to get pissed off at. Having something to get mad at is a good thing, especially if it's something you have no control over. The rest of the Continental US has to deal with stupid cold temperatures and blizzards and ice storms. Ticks 'em off. But there's nothing they can do with it. So they learn to cope, and get on with their lives. It reflects in other aspects of their lives as well.

"God grant me the strength to recognize the things I have no control over..."

So Californians have no freezing cold weather to rage at. So they get mad at each other. The culture here is very control-oriented. Money, possessions, and authority count. Image counts. Lawsuits count.

Two kids just got shot a few miles from our apartment last night. A 17 year old and an 11 year old. Driveby, no explanations. Just kids walking on the sidewalk.

If it were freaking cold here like the rest of the country, it wouldn't have happened. First, because no kids would be walking around in the stupid cold. Second, no nutjobs would want to leave the space heater long enough to go joy-gunning.

That's my theory. I don't care if it's wrong or not.

Cold people are docile people. You don't care what you look like when you're freakin' cold.

Forgot...

Man, last trip to the comic store was slim pickin's. Guess all the good comics were on Christmas vacation, too.

Got Y: The Last Man issue twenty-something. It was better than usual. I'm still falling out of love with the book, but this was a definite improvement. Pregnancy, crazy nuns, Yorick's sister dressed like a gay cowboy. Gay cowboys are the new ninjas/pirates, I guess, even if Warren
Ellis says Vikings are. Next issue: Ampersand is recognized as the newest incarnation of the Buddha, and Yorick discovers he never really liked women at all. The title becomes Y: The Last Gay Cowboy. In a world full of women, all that's left is a guy who's not interested. Oooh, irony. I swear, I started out really liking this book. Now I just want it to recover that former glory.

Err, DMZ #2. It was above average. Sniper love was an interesting concept. The child hospital scene was a bit too much. Depicting children in pain seems a little cheap to me. It's too easy a tool for evoking sympathy, too cut and dried. Am I uncomfortable with the idea of child injuries in a war zone? Absolutely. But we get enough of it on the news, I'm not looking for it in my fiction. Maybe I'd feel differently if I knew that Brian Wood had spent a few months in a war zone, and was speaking from experience. Right now, it's like a bit like talking to a grad student who's living in his mom's basement telling me about civil rights violations in China. It's disingenuous. Innocent casualties are bad. Fictional innocent casualties are fictional. 'Nuff said. Other than that the book has potential. It's Transmetropolitan in a war zone, only not nearly as funny.

Walking Dead Script Book. Haven't read it yet, but I'm excited about it. I love reading scripts. I like writing scripts. I'm trying to learn to love writing scripts. Seeing the nuts and bolts from my favorite comics is delicious.

And that's it.

I'm itching for more Desolation Jones, Fell, etc. Maybe next trip.

Excelsior, or whatever.

I don't know what happened...

but I seem to have suddenly moved to Seattle. Or another place where it rains a lot.

So it's rainy.

No real New Year's resolutions here, but I did set some long term goals. Seems like resolutions are at the peak of their notoriety this year. Bring up resolutions, and people look like they've been picked by jury duty. I don't think people hate resolutions, I think people just hate falling short of their expectations.

Set goal, comply for a short while, then fail miserably. Wait one year. Rinse, repeat.

Maybe the only goal to have is to make every day New Years. Man, does sound sooo Lifetime Channel. "Maybe if we ALL make every day like Christmas..." Geez, shoot me in the head, please.

So my goals aren't changed, really, they're the same goals as all year. However, I am changing my daily routine to accommodate those goals. So there's your change.

Happy Freakin' New Year.

SHUT UP!

I don't care what you say.

Alien Loves Predator is the pinnacle of online entertainment.

Just shut up. You can't change my mind.

Happy Holidays!

No snarky comments or cynical observations.

Have a Merry Christmas, everybody. Be safe, be thankful, be happy.

Laters.

Now I know I'm old.

I hit 7:30 pm, and my body just shuts down. I just want to drink some warm milk, crawl in bed, pull my covers tight, and sleep like a senior citizen.

I want to work out, but the planet is pitch dark when I leave work. I can't convince myself to join a gym. Not sure how to make the blood run more swiftly through these dusty old veins of mine.

Maybe I need to get an archenemy that can chase me around and try to kill me.

That'd get me out of bed.

My incredible Fear-Of-Death Workout.

Of course, I could just take up tapdancing.

NOT SAFE FOR WORK!

I'm not running a porn site here, but I thought it would be appropriate to post some pics of my unborn baby's genitalia:

That's right, it's a boy. He'd better go to the comic shop with me. He's already got a big strike against him: he's not a girl. His mom has already said she's planning on spoiling him rotten. I guess that's fair, as I've already spoiled our daughter.

Here's a less spicy shot of our new young one:

Reality keeps getting stranger and stranger.

First Person Shooter

Thanks to El Donkeljon.

No clue why this ad was banned, maybe it was all the ultraviolence.

Someone's been watching Spaced.

Check it out.

Comics Rundown 12/4/2005

I hit the comic store Friday. And I never reviewed my pile from the last trip. So let's knock this out.

Fell #3 - This series is solid. I enjoyed this issue far more than the first two. Ben Templesmith's art works. It's all about the faces and expressions in this book, and Templesmith delivers the emotions very subtlely. Jacked-up lives in a jacked-up town. A whacko in a nun's habit and a Nixon mask. People locked in their cramped apartments, terrified. This book probably just unseated Walking Dead as my favorite book. "Jeff, here's the thing. We get trained for this. I have to shoot you in the head." No robot dinosaurs. No spaceships full of super-intelligent monkeys. Just frightened people with knives, stabbing each other.

Walking Dead #23 and #24 - This book has me worried. I think it's been three issues since a zombie got shot in the head. I understand, zombie stories are about the people, and there are relationships to work out. But the pacing in this book has left the zombie standard. It's feeling too safe. The writing is more focused on the characters beating the crap out of each other (physically and emotionally) than undead feeding on fleshy brains. It hasn't been a horror comic for a while. Oh, well.

Y: The Last Man #39 - I don't know why I'm reading this book anymore. Maybe it's just me. I'm not worried about the characters. I don't care if the male subspecies is reestablished. I'm already fairly certain that Yorick is gonna find his old girlfriend. Then he'll find his monkey. I don't really care what's going to happen to the rest of the cast of characters. This book needs to wrap up soon. Or BKV needs to grab this book and beat it violently with a stick until candy comes out. Either way.

Fear Agent #1 - Tony Moore drawing a spaceman killing aliens. Good fun. Unfortunately, this falls under "Nostalgia Comic" in my mental filing cabinet. No new ground is being broken here. Buy it for the art.

Ex Machina #16 - Is Hundred gay? Or isn't he? Can Vaughan drag out the mystery longer? Can he? Mayor Hundred discovers an important... thing from his past! Which... doesn't really change anything. He's still mayor. I'm seriously convinced that Vaughan had a massive brainstorm at the start of this book, and he's bound and determined to squeeze in everything into this series before his four years are up. This makes the book feel rushed. Better than Y.

Invincible #27 - I LIKED IT! Invincible and his Dad versus a Viltrumite hit squad! And I don't see how they can possibly win! Invincible has a baby brother! I really have no clue where this book is going to go. Robert Kirkman manages to keep everything very unpredictable. Unpredictable means fun. Very good issue, yay!

Jack Cross #4 - Still not in love with the art. Sometimes the sequences are confusing, which in an action comic is not cool. Jack is keerazy. He shoots a lot of people. He saves San Francisco. He carves himself up. I think I need to read Warren Ellis' original script to fully appreciate this book, because I can't shake the feeling that I'm missing something.

DMZ #1 - Hands down, coolest cover art on the rack. New Jersey secedes from the Union. Manhattan becomes a warzone. The book definitely has potential (pleasedon'tbe"Escape From New York"pleasedon'tbe"Escape From New York"). I'm also hoping that this book doesn't turn into a "Get Out of Iraq Now" political soapbox. "See, how would YOU like being occupied?" Tell the stories, build your characters, and let your audience draw their own conclusions. Too soon to tell how good this book is going to be, but the premise is interesting.

Standard disclaimer: I swear, I really do love comics.

Have a good week.

Gift idea for ya

Hands down, best present I've received in years:
A stove-top popcorn popper with a handcrank. No kidding.

I got it for my birthday or Christmas last year, can't remember which occasion.

Microwave popcorn has been abolished from my home. Now, my popcorn is prepared precisely how I like it: Fresh, hot, no butter, just a dash (One dash! No more!) of salt.

Oh, baby.

Makes me want to travel back in time and hug every Indian at the first Thanksgiving feast.

If you're stumped on a decent present this Christmas, pick up one of these bad boys. Physical gifts are mere apologies, to be sure, but if you're apologizing, at least do it in style.

We're gonna sit down and watch Rear Window now. Shaping up for nice evening.

It's a sad truth...

... but just thinking about Christmas-time makes me incredibly tired.

Especially if travel is involved. Or shopping. Or doing anything at all.

Everyday life is exhausting enough in my book.

Here's how the perfect Christmas season would go down in an ideal world:
Work would be cancelled for the entire month of December.
All telephones would cease to work for the same duration.
The sun would only come up when you told it to, to allow you as much sleep as you wished.
There would be a channel on TV playing "Tremors 2" all day, every day.
Your kitchen faucet would dispense egg nog if you were running low.
All transportation would take place during sleep. You would fall asleep thinking about who you'd need to visit, and wake up on their couch.
Any Christmas music that has been created within the last 20 years would cause instant nosebleeds and explosive vomiting, and thus banned.
All gift-giving would be entirely replaced by snuggling or interesting conversation, depending on the recipient.
Any time you felt you "needed" something gift-wise, you would be stricken by an excruciating migraine headache.

There. I'm feeling better about Christmas already. Let me know if I missed anything.

When I'm dictator of the world, this is how Christmas is going to go down. If you're not cool with that, you'd better do something to stop me right now.

Important Day

A thousand congratulations to my good buddy Don and his beloved wife America.

Today they brought a beautiful new baby girl into the world.

Two great people just became two great parents.

Best of luck to you.

Today's a good day to be born. I should know.

Days like this just kick Thanksgiving's butt so hard.

Black Friday

I love the ominous sound of that title. Capitalize that sucker. "Black Friday." I half expect a plague to wipe out several million people, while the stock market crashes, and we discover that Hitler never died and is invading Europe all over again. That would make a Black Friday.

Instead we get the death of Mr. Miyagi, crashing Xbox 360s, and people fighting over 27" televisions.

Black Friday is so-named, of course, because many businesses announce their first profitable numbers of the year today. Doesn't that seem crazy to anyone? If there was no Christmas buying-frenzy season, these businesses would be in the red year-round. Man, am I glad I'm not involved in Retail.

So work is silent as a grave today. Everyone's still home. Except me. Makes for a very quiet office. I'll wipe out some tickets, clean up the joint, and find some projects to get into trouble with.

Happy Black Friday to you.

Update?

Um. I guess nothing's really changed in the last week or so.

I'm feeling better, finally.

Work is really busy.

Got a pile of comics on Friday that I should write about.

Beat Half Life 2 over the weekend.

My daughter is hilarious.

Slow steps towards recovery

Well, I'm breathing and moving again. So that's a good sign.

Spent the weekend watching Lost, playing Dystopia, and slamming down Nyquil.

Which seems to have worked.

If you're on Dystopia, let me know. So I can perforate you with my minigun. Go ahead and put that stealth suit on, it won't help you.

Pwnage.

Under attack.

So my body is becoming infested with pathogens. This makes it hurt to talk, breath, and think.

All I'm good for right now is sitting still and doing very little with my brain. Which means I want to watch a film with guns and shooting in it.

I feel bad for my wife, who tries to make conversation with me. Poor lady is stuck all day trying to forge dialogue with a two-year-old whose favorite phrase right now is "Tickletickletickle!"

Wife asks fairly important question. I grunt in response. She asks for clarification. I grunt again, hoping that she realizes that that's all she's getting out of me.

I'm going to weave an impenetrable cocoon about myself and hibernate for a thousand years.

Goodbye.

Worthless Blog Post

Travelling tires me the heck out.

Seriously, I'm falling-over tired.

I've been slipping into a coma since 7 pm tonight.

That's tonight's worthless blog post.

Tomorrow: I'll write something about how I don't like my job, or how some company's policies offend me as a consumer. Or how I didn't like a movie I saw. Or how great some song is.

Or I may go completely off the wall and rant about my love affair with a random sports team.

I'm changing my name to Mike Smith, and I'm only wearing generic clothing from here on out.

Candy Magnet

So last night was my daughter's first go at full-fledged Trick-or-Treating. We figured she'd hit a few houses, get tired of it, and we'd head home.

Nothing doing.

After her second house, she was a unstoppable candy-generating machine. Her cuteness demanded pound after pound of chocolate from a helpless neighborhood.

"Aren't you just DARLING! Here you go!"

Resistance was futile. After a very short hour, my daughter was dragging a full bucket of candy behind her, struggling towards "one more door," squealing and giggling the whole time.

She is a monster. And she must be stopped.

There's no way I'm letting her eat all that candy by herself.

Time to teach the candy magnet a lesson about "Sharing."

A game I really like...

So crosswords are my bane. Reeeeally really hate 'em. Hate 'em.

Play this instead:

Sudoku

BOOM

Ever feel like you're on a freight train headed towards a gas truck parked across the tracks?

That's how I feel right now.

Took a nap

I have my brain back.

Playing with some MySQL, playing with some PHP.

Got waaaay too many ideas for a comic script I'm cooking up.

I'm going to bed early tonight, and I'm going to wake up happy.

I promise.

CURRENT MOOD:

Current mood: mischievous YOU ARE GOING TO DIE

Real estate warning signs

Tom Barrack's selling all of his US real estate.

'Cause there's a bubble.

Duh.

But here's one little gem that stood out. I love being proven right. One of my biggest soapboxes about real estate lately has been the practice of housing construction "futures."

Check this out:
"The slump will show up first in speculative hot spots like Miami and Las Vegas, he says, where condo developers are preselling their projects for what looks like big profits. When they actually build the units over the next year or two, he predicts, they will end up spending more then the units are now selling for.
At that point, says Barrack, the developers will try to raise prices. "But most of these buyers are speculators," he says. "They will either sue the developers to get the original price or take their deposits back and walk away." The developers will then put the units back on the market, and the glut of vacant condos will drive prices down. "It's the busted deals caused by construction costs that will cause the turn in the market," he says. "

And it's not just condos. Out here in Cali (as we Californians never call it. I think.) housing developments have waiting lists years before ground is broken. Houses are "flipped" before the house is even built. That is, a speculator puts a deposit on a lot, waits a bit, and then sells the rights to the lot to the next dummy.

Risky stuff. The real estate market is quickly going to degrade into a roller derby: lots of flying elbows, kicking, and hairpulling. And lots of bodies flying into the stands.

Tom Barrack sells his US RE holdings

Quick reviews

So, how did I like my new pile of comics?
Some disappointments, and some surprising surprises.

Biggest disappointment: Walking Dead #22 - SPOILER - No one dies from zombie attacks this issue. And no one kills any zombies this issue. Unforgivable. Un-freakin'-forgivable. It was like a Romero movie without garden tools.

Other disappointments: Y the Last Man #37 and Ex Machina #14 and #15. Quick disclaimer, I've loved both series up until now. Y is undeniably a very powerful book. Ex Machina is a great departure from the traditional super hero story devices. But I'm developing a problem with Brian K. Vaughn, and it's showing up in both of these books.

Explanation: It almost feels like he's buying into his own hype, and the media frenzy has driven him to try to outdo himself. It seems like both of these series are trying to "push the envelope" of edginess. It feels topical. Yeah, I get it, you're trying to explore tough issues. But particularly with Ex Machina, the topicality gets in the way of the storytelling.

Another sticking point on this issue of topicality. It's not enough just to raise controversial opinions, you have to explore them. You don't have to resolve them, but at least take some decent stabs at it. And Ex Machina tends to fall short on this as well. For example, a few issues back, the story touched on a publicly funded art museum which was showing a racially insensitive painting. The public was outraged, the artist unyielding. Mayor Hundred is faced with a dilemma: side with the public, or defend the artist's First Amendment rights. But instead of Hundred making a call and facing the consequences, the artist voluntarily sneaks into the museum and destroys the painting. No consequences, crisis averted, no solutions offered, on to the next controversy. This isn't the only example.

Grrrrrr. That said, the books are still pretty good. They are important, in that we need more books like them, taking some serious risks. But edginess for edginess' sake is not sustainable.

Now the good stuff.

Invincible #26 - The only "true" superhero book I'm reading. Light antics with punching and aliens. Just fun.

The Amazing Joy Buzzards Vol 2 #1 - More fun stuff, kind of a Mike Allred pop sensibility meets the Gorillaz. And the Beatles films. And Speed Racer. And Hanna Barbara mystery cartoons. No attempts at edginess here, just fun, goofy storytelling. The coolness lies in the seeming lack of effort at being cool. I'm waiting for the animated series.

Best stuff last.

Warren Ellis kicks my trash. I HATE WARREN ELLIS. I hate him more than Neil Gaiman, less than Alan Moore. Curse that Alan Moore. But back to Ellis. Hate'im.

Fell #2 is a nightmare. It's bad juju all around. The story is a gruesome headline, the characters caged animals. Ben Templesmith's art is bleak, and the pages are dense with information. There are no "unused" panels. The story's not for little kids or faint-hearted senior citizens. Ellis' writing is the showstopper here: solid characterization, punchy dialogue, efficient visuals. The decreased page length of the book is actually an asset, i.e. no useless splash pages, etc. If you have $2.00 and you're a grown-up buy the stupid book.

Jack Cross #2. Issue #1 didn't wow me. Some of the art didn't do it for me, although I liked the "24"-ish any-means-necessary tactics of the protagonist. Issue #2 is really engaging me though. The interrogation was cool. Explosions are cool. The car chase and shootout were cool. Ellis' plot is not a far stretch from plausible. I'm liking the book much more after this issue. Still not in love with the art though.

So that's my review of my pile of comics.

Wordy wordy wordy.

In summary: Read Warren Ellis, consider Brian K. Vaughn, and wait for Robert Kirkman to start killing zombies again.

Speaking of comics

No, not really. Just a random observation.

Costco bread tastes like styrofoam.

Just don't do it. Don't buy that Soylent-Green-esque food substitute. It is not bread. It is baked evil.

This has been a Public Service Announcement.

Evil.

COMIC BOOK SHOP DAY!

Hit my local store, and brought the family.

I'm a little ashamed to say it, but I could feel my eyes light up when I saw that the new issue of Walking Dead arrived. Yay!

Grabbed that and some Invincible, Joy Buzzards, Y the Last Man, Fell, Jack Cross, and Ex Machina. Read Fell already.

Kate got an issue of Thunderbolts from the 25-cent bin. She was super-super pumped. She's sitting quietly on the floor right now, "reading" it intently. The kid has trouble with English, but she's already building the visual vocabulary necessary to read comics. It's coming to her very naturally.

Speaking of visual vocabulary for kids, this book is a great one. I grew up with it. It's a children's book, but it's a deceptively marketed comic book. And it's beautiful.

The Snowman

Someday I'll write a whole big column about why this book is the bee's knees.

I have warm fuzzies.

Got home, and took Kate for a walk for an hour or so, looked at turtles and ducks.

Now wifey and I are gonna watch Batman Begins.

I really, really like Saturdays.

I am... a fanboy.

I can't get over how valuable this site is. And how young it is. And how popular it is.

Visit Warren Ellis' site, go to the Starting Out section, and dig up the thread titled: Comic Creator Audio / Video Interviews.

Then, sit and geek out for several hours.

The Engine

More zombies, please.

Sometimes the Onion is amusing:

Zombie Preparations

'Cause everyone keeps asking for this...

This was Mrs. Badger and I before we got married.

If only I still looked like this.

If only.

Pendulum Baby

My kid likes oscillation:












Yeah. I know.

AWOL

I've been away. Been traveling a lot. Back to work now.

Feel very much like a fish out of water.

I know I should be getting my life back to normal, but I've been avoiding my regular routine.

Not sure what I want to be doing now.

I want to be doing something other than what I'm doing at the moment. Perpetually. Unceasingly.

... Wow...

It's happened. They've finally done it.

It's strange, because I was lying awake wondering about this a few nights ago. Because, naturally, it's the sort of thing I lie awake thinking about.

And today, Slashdot brought this gem up.

Scientists have finally filmed a live giant squid in the wild.

So... yeah...

Long week. Tired.

So eventually I need to write about what a strange country Salt Lake City is. And yes, it is a different country.

I have some comics to read and a samurai movie to watch. And then I'm going to sleep.

Bullet... Dodged!

Heard from my Dad today. My brother and his family are fine for now. His house suffered no damage from Rita, and no flooding in his area as of yet. They still have power (!) and his cell phone is still working (!!), which is how he contacted my parents.

So, phew. What a relief. Thanks for all the prayers/thoughts/animal sacrifices.

I hope my brother's case is the norm for most of the folks down there.

Hurricane Rita. Uhoh.

I just found out my older brother Dean and his six kids are trapped in Houston and they can't get out. I thought they were already safe. They've boarded up the house and are going to have to wait it out. Unfortunately, or fortunately, depends on how you look at it, his wife is in Boise, ID right now.

Traffic is not moving, the gas stations are empty, and cars are just running out of gas on the highway. People are just turning around and heading back home. He decided not to risk running out of gas in a minivan with six kids in it.

Positives: They live on the higher end of town, so hopefully flooding shouldn't affect them as much. Also, Houston isn't New Orleans: no levee.

So if you could pray to whatever deity you worship on behalf of my brother and his kids, I'd appreciate it.

The really scary part is knowing that we won't hear from him for days to know if he's okay. Here's hoping we've learned something from Katrina.

Geez.

Sick.

I'm sick.

Don't talk to me.

Don't look at me! Don't ever look at me!

With any luck, I'll be too sick to work tomorrow morning.

Good stuff.

Pretty interesting little story.

I was raised in the country, and I'm living in the big city now.

Helpful hint: the country is better.

Not to knock cities, I've lived in several all over the country. But city life is terrible.

Here's why: Fireflies.

Where I grew up, every summer our yard would be full of fireflies. If you could imagine the most magical place on Earth, that place would have to be our front yard.

Fireflies don't live West of Kansas. They also don't tend to hang out in cities.

If you've got fireflies where you live, I truly and wholeheartedly envy you.

Don't Do This.

Don't do this. Just don't. Here's the recipe for a perfectly apocalyptic Friday night. This will do strange things to your mind.

10pm-12pm - Watch the news, check some news sites, fill your head with imagery of the New Orleans Katrina disaster.
12-1am - Read some issues of Robert Kirkham's zombie comic "The Walking Dead."
1am - 3am - Sit down and watch George Romero's "Dawn of the Dead."
3am - 4:30am - Read some more "Walking Dead" issues, and stare at the Zombie Infection Simulator for a while.
4:30am - 5:30am - Swallow the fact that you're not prepared for a disaster of any kind, hurricane, zombie, or otherwise.

Zombie movies are a good thing. In between all the silly special effects and goofy extras wandering around with bad makeup, they provide a public service: to tell you that sometimes bad stuff happens, and that if something major goes down, you might be one of those victims. You could be one of those poor folks trapped at the Superdome.

Don't be complacent. Do something. Prepare yourself. Take some first aid classes. Store some food up. Learn how to get clean drinking water. Do you know how to build a fire? Read up on some survival techniques, and try them out. Do you have an emergency kit, something that will keep you alive for 3 or 4 days? Go out to the shooting range, at least until you feel comfortable holding a gun.

Don't just change channels and see what's on the WB.

No one's going to accuse you of being a right-wing militant. Not after this week. It behooves you to prepare yourself, and not be a victim. The idea is that you learn these things and hope you never need to use them.

What if it's your city next time?

Me loves the Interweb.

And this is one of the reasons why:

Flying Spaghetti Monster

I'm undecided on the whole Intelligent Design thing. I haven't researched it enough to make an informed opinion.

Either way, this was (to me) very amusing.

Information Overload

I need to go on a diet. My information intake is tremendous. It hit me today that I'm overdoing it. I check tons of newsites each day. I'm on nearly a dozen mailing lists. My cell phone rings incessantly.

What this adds up to, is that I get home from work, and I get nothing done. Or at least, not as much as I could/should.

My name is Badger, and I'm an information junkie.

I've seriously got to trim the fat. Just checking my news site list takes me a couple of hours a night. Burning through my inbox is a neverending chore, I almost don't want to check it.

What I need to do now, is go through my information sources and ruthlessly cut them out of my life. My delicious, wonderful info sources.

Too much interesting content. Too much going on. Too much to keep tabs on.

Anyone out there have any good advice on where to start?

I'm not much on alarmism...

But check this out. I haven't done much blogging on the economic side of things, as I'm completely unqualified for that sort of thing. However, I consider myself fairly proficient at basic math, like addition and subtraction.

So follow my math here:

  Housing bubble will possibly burst next spring

  Oil prices continue to rise (Thanks Katrina!)

  Unsecured consumer debt is at an all-time high

+ Banks to double the minimum payments on credit cards in Oct.

------------------------------------------------------
  A Really Ugly Situation

See? I'm not too terrible at math. You just gotta know when to carry the twelve.

I can't forecast the markets, I'm just a normal joe, but it's a bit worrisome.

My advice is: get your stuff in order. I'm getting an ugly vibe, and I've been my luckiest when following my nose. Build up some savings. Make some preparations. I don't mean digging out an underground bunker and hoarding consumables, but expect some serious economic distress to come down within the year. If you're overextended in your spending, make some changes. If your investments are starting to smell funny, think about moving them into a more secure vehicle.

No one's paying me to say this, I have absolutely no incentive to share this stuff.

Preparing for the worst can't hurt. I've got 10 bucks that says it's gonna get ugly in about 6 months.

Blogger hacks are keen.

Google is such a force for evil. My comments are now poppable. It's keen.

If you've ever liked Vincent Price...

Go rent The Last Man on Earth.

Mr. Price survives a worldwide plague that wipes out the human race and turns them into zombies/vampires. His old friends and dead wife stumble to his door at sundown, calling his name: "Morgan... Come out... Come out!" All that's left for the last man on earth is to turn up his record player, and hope the mirrors and garlic he's hung around his boarded-up house hold out.

Bleak at best, the film is less optimistic about the fate of us puny humans than 28 Days Later, and has an ending that tastes like the end of Beneath the Planet of the Apes.

Good stuff. While some of the dialogue is weak, and the science is hokey ("Perhaps that bite from that vampire bat has made me immune to this plague!") the mood is wonderfully apocalyptic.

It's like watching Night of the Living Dead, only with less chicks screeching and freaking out.

Sidenote: This is supposedly an adaptation of Richard Matheson's novel "I Am Legend." Anyone read it? Any good?

Bye.

Woo!

Yay! SortaRunnerGuy has decided to post semi-regularly!

Yet another innocent victim of the blog meme.

The great part is, whether you like it or not, he's smarter than you. It sucks. Sucks big time.

http://halfamonth.blogspot.com/

Stop what you're doing,

and read this Right Now.

That is, if you read comics, write comics, draw comics, or have ever been remotely interested in comics and their distribution.

The Escapist

One more thing. Thought that gaming and writing were mutually exclusive talents?

Maybe you were wrong.

My new favorite site:

http://www.ssiworld.com/watch/watch-en.htm

I don't know about you, but I could watch this stuff all day.

In other news? My daughter has been swimming more than walking lately.

Finished Transmetropolitan. Warren Ellis is a whacked, whacked man.

Went to the comic shop today. It was a mixed experience. I got League of Extraordinary Gentlemen Volume 1. They were flooded (burst pipe) earlier this week, so all their new stuff on the shelves was destroyed. In some ways it was an improvement.

Do yourself a favor and look over these essays on self-publishing by Dave Sim:

http://www.amptoons.com/howto/sim/index.html#self

Good day to you.

INEXCUSABLE

Yeah, I know. It's been like two weeks without a post.

Busy, what can I say? I'm reading five books at once, I flew out to Salt Lake City for a few days, I'm running myself ragged.

Hey, at least I'm doing better than William Gibson on the blogging.

Lazy, lazy William Gibson.

Actually, he's probably realized how fruitless a pursuit blogging is, and how it's preventing him from his real endeavor: making lots and lots of money.

Which is something else I've been busy at for the last few days: exterminating distractions.

There a series of rituals I go through when I get home from work. How many of them are necessary? None of them, except for kissing my wife and daughter. So I've been methodically determining what these unnecessary tics I fall victim to in my spare time are, and eliminating them. Ruthlessly. With the intention of freeing up more time to write. We'll see if I succeed.

I haven't been to the comic store in a long while, and I'm itching to go back.
Here's my dilemma:

I know there's good stuff in there somewhere, but invariably I pass through the door, and am immediately assaulted by body odor, bad rap music, and insulting comic book covers. I grab a couple titles from creative talents that I hold dear, and run for the door without uttering a word.

Know what? Every time I leave the comic store, I leave depressed. Seriously and crushingly maudlin.

So I don't want to go back the next week. Or the next. Only after a month or two do I forget the major bummer I suffered from the last visit.

I've had a much better experience doing my shopping on eBay and Amazon. My experiences online are consistently composed of the following:
I choose my trade paperback.
I purchase it.
It comes in the mail.
I read it.
I'm very happy.

I'm not saying anything new here, and for that I apologize. But I miss the comic store. I miss getting my socks blown off by covers that begged for my purchase. I miss stumbling onto amazing fringe material that everyone else had overlooked. I miss not being offended.

I don't have any solutions. Maybe there aren't enough people in my demographic to sustain a store oriented towards a more mature clientele.

But for now, it sure as hell feels like going to ToysRUs to buy condoms.

Stranger and stranger

I'm not going to pretend to have any kind of understanding of how things are in Great Britain right now. I'm trying to be empathetic. I can only offer condolences to those who lost loved ones and those who are in pain. The world is full of evil people. Should we go get them? Absolutely. There's nothing more I can say about it. Britain is tough (tougher than the US, I daresay), and I have no doubt they'll hang in there.

Very strange, since I just read V for Vendetta a couple days ago. A mere coincidence, if you believe in that sort of thing. There's no question, V for Vendetta presents a worst-case scenario of knee-jerk reactionism to disaster. But it's not a terrible stretch of imagination to picture a jump to fascism after the series of attacks there.

We're already well on our way here in the States. Don't get me wrong, I'm not a babbling Michael Moore supporter, I'm not waving the flag while screaming for Bush to leave office. But we're getting locked down here in the US. There aren't marches in the streets, or armbands, or book burnings.

But you can't deny the presence of racial profiling. Gitmo looks like a concentration camp. In a few months I'll be carrying a national ID card.

I didn't plan on talking about this when I got up this morning.

Go get a copy of the V for Vendetta trade paperback by Alan Moore and David Lloyd, for the love of Mike. Hit Amazon or eBay or some other publicly traded dot-com survivor.

Today of all days, read V for Vendetta.

England Prevails.

Posts like the one below:

Give me the shakes. We're reaching a magnificent point in civilization.

We've reached the point where we have a choice. We can turn to the media companys and softly mutter:

"We don't need you."

Content is accessible and distributable on an individual basis. The individual is rewarded for his/her efforts directly, no middleman. No commercials. No hype machine. Notoriety based solely on merit.

Firefly is succeeding -despite- what the Fox executives wanted. Media is driven now by the consumer, instead of what a room full of wealthy people decide to shove down our throats.

I'm just shaking my head here. Now to destroy the television companies... Sorry to my television friends.

It's all very William-Gibson.

I'm going to say that again:

"We don't need you."

We Are Not Evil

Finally, someone is getting the right idea:

http://magnatune.com/

Downloads are donation based, and the artist gets 50% of the cut. Stream for free, download for donation.

Stop feeding the monster.

Starve a music exec.

HO. LEE. CRAP.

http://www.scienceblog.com/catfish.html?q=node/8320

Great Jupiter's Ghost. I'm never going fishing again.