Three days...

Only three days until Wondercon, and I'm wondering why I have butterflies in my stomach. I already have a wife/girlfriend, it's not like I'm going on a date or anything. Why am I nervous?

Possible reasons:
- I've been reading horror stories from the NY Comicon.
- I'm going alone.
- I've never ridden the BART before.
- I don't know my way around San Francisco.
- I'm not an extrovert.
- I actually want to make contacts and bounce around script ideas.
- I hate crowds.
- I'm afraid I'll miss something.
- I'm afraid I'm going to piss off Mike Mignola.
- This is my first big con.
- This is my first con in roughly 15 years.

Aaaand I think that's the whole list. I feel like I'm 15 again.

When I was a kid, cons were fun, like birthday parties. Even when I went without any money, my friends and brothers were there, we'd get into trouble, and we'd have fun. We'd try new things (not substances). We'd talk to strangers. We'd waltz right up to folks with reputations and talk to them, because we had no idea who they were and why they were important.

About fifteen years ago I blew off meeting Colleen Doran because I was busy trying to trade a pile of Spawn Comics for some Lone Wolf and Cub issues. She drew princesses and crap. Am I kicking myself now? Dear me, yes.

I LARPed one time. Which was enough.

I met Chris Sprouse just as he was starting to pencil Robin. I never got his autograph because I only read Marvel or Dark Horse comics, and I thought DC sucked. I was that guy.

Our gang crashed so many roleplaying tournaments I was afraid we were going to be boycotted.

I met Roger Zelazny shortly before he died. I was an Amber fanatic. He asked me about my Tshirt, which is about the biggest compliment a distinguished writer can pay a depressed teenager.

I stayed up all night watching Vampire Hunter D and Akira and Black Magic M-66.

Maybe this is why I'm so nervous. Those were the good memories of my high school years. My positive high school memories compose a very short list. I guess I'm a little afraid I won't have as much fun this time around, and that I'm too much of a grown-up for all this.

I may be too responsible and firmly entrenched in reality to enjoy it.

Screw that noise. I'm going to go pick a fight with Darth Maul.

Do Yourself A Favor.

Go rent Orson Welles' Touch of Evil.

This film is ending my mostly unintentional Charleton Heston marathon.

It's meaty, morally ambiguous noir. The characters are people you've probably met, only with screwier lives. Heston's raw charisma is nearly overshadowed by the monolithic Welle's slouching silhouette in each of their shared scenes. This is two serious heavyweights going toe to toe, and it's great.

A car bomb goes off in a Mexican border town, which launches an investigation. Lives get ruined. People die. It's a great crime story.

At least check it out to see Heston playing a Mexican and Orson Welles slamming down candy bars.

A Call For Peace.

As our elected representatives debate the current status of the war, I would beg them to view the message below and solemnly consider their actions.



Biznizz. Yeah, c'mon.

I'm going to hell.

Check.

Busy, a bit.

Yesterday I read the entire Internet.

We got Kate to eat 14 whole bites of her dinner.

Finished plotting.

Wrote some.

Watched Lost, because I love my wife, and I got to sit next to her.

Dreamt about giant robots and robbing a Walmart (using said robots).

Con Plans, ah, yes, the Con Plans...

Okie dokie. Con season is rapidly approaching.

Here's the rundown:

I will definitely be at Wondercon on Saturday, March 3 in San Francisco.

Depending on how Wondercon goes, I will possibly be attending APE on Saturday, April 21 in San Francisco.

I plan on being at the San Diego Comicon. Probably will arrive the night of Wednesday, July 25, driving down. I may or may not be attending Preview Night. The room is already reserved, 1.4 miles away from the convention center, walking distance. I guess the room sleeps three, a queen bed and a couch, so if you need a place to crash, there you go. No one has confirmed yet. I will most likely have a rental car with Neverlost(tm), so foraging for food shouldn't be too insane. I plan on driving back on Sunday morning/afternoon. If you aren't coming, you're a sucka.

If you are wanting to meet up at any of these events, contact me through the usual channels.

Unique.

Dean Motter is a terrific comic creator.

Yes, I am excited. The guy who did Mr. X, The Prisoner adaptation, and Terminal sweet-jumping-Jupiter-on-a-pogo-stick City.

Fugitive meets Twilight Zone/Outer Limits.

Am I excited?

Yes, yes I am.

If this isn't fantastic, I will do your dishes. For like, an entire night.

Slipping Beauty Castle

Fan-freaking-tastic. Thanks Troy.

Bob Barker Says: Spay or Neuter Your Pets

Now I remember what I wanted to write about. I got the We3 trade paperback this week.

Strangely enough, this was the first Grant Morrison project I've ever knowingly read. My hardcore factor just smashed through the floor, headed directly towards the Earth's chewy molten center. I just haven't had the opportunity until now.

We3 depicts a dog, a kittycat, and a bunny rabbit who have been cybernetically enhanced by a defense contractor. The animals (or "aminals" as I will refer to them from here on out) are strays that were probably dog/cat/bunny-napped from their loving owners. They are domesticated. They're also trained to kill people and blow things up, which makes lot of sense to a defense contractor. They're also trained to speak, which makes less sense.

The aminals break free when they discover they're scheduled to be euthanized. The rest of the book details their escape and quest to head "Home." It's refreshing fare. No spandex anywhere. It's like a Disney animal movie gone awry: Fuzzy lovin' and heavy machine guns. Old Yeller vs. Terminator.

I liked it. However, there are weaknesses.

First, the panel layouts are fairly jumbled and confusing. Frank Quitely's layouts are given an 'A' for effort, because you know he was fighting for a fresh approach to the pacing, but my eye had trouble following the action, particularly in the fight scenes. This is particularly problematic because this is a comic book. If this were a poorly edited kung fu movie, some jolting sequences might make sense, but if a static page of artwork looks jumbled, its because it's jumbled. Fairly unforgivable in my idiotic opinion. Just didn't like it.

Second. The story was three issues. Which made for a very short story. The plot felt rushed. The first issue deals with the introduction to the characters and their escape. The second relates the escape. The third shows the conclusion and aftermath. The structure itself is fine, but it didn't provide enough time for me to change gears wildly and really inhabit the brain of a four-legged mammal. It felt like a missed opportunity to really dig in and see the unconditional love of domesticated animals juxtaposed with the programming of an unrestrained killing machine.

The good stuff. The art is excellent with clean lines, beautiful colors. The book just looks good, previous complaints aside. The design choices were really interesting, especially the construction of the creatures, which look like squat tank-like Macintosh peripherals. I think the sleek, pointy-stuff-all-over look has been done to death, and these animals just look, um, user-friendly.

And it's just a really good story. I cared about three scared little animals that kill people. I wasn't bogged down by pretentious metaphors or overtly preachy observations on the human condition. It is what it is. It's like an 80's action film.

Finally, bonus points for a really great original idea.

Note for the kiddies, the book is a mature readers title due to scenes of intense violence and gore. Which will only make you want to check it out even more.

Nos vemos.

Low point.

Yeah, things are pretty bad if the first thing you see on your website is a picture of Spawn.

Gah! Money!

I can be a little rough on Todd McFarlane. He has a lot of money, he doesn't really do comics anymore, and his writing is a mess.

That said, he knows business.

Take a listen.

It's a half hour Fanboy Radio interview of him going off on commercial art, and it's great. I'm still not buying Spawn products, but I can see why some people would.

Fanboy Radio. The interviews are terrific, but sometimes the gushing praise coming out of Scott Heinz every second gives me severe behind-the-left-eyeball headaches. "Everything you've ever done is divinity! I wrap myself in your comics every night and chant your name! Your comics could end the conflict in the Middle East!"

You're not going to get any hard questions or straight answers out of Fanboy Radio, but every once in a while you'll hear some talented guys get up on their soapbox.

"It's a strange world... Let's keep it that way."

Currently rereading Planetary. It's hard to shake the feeling that Warren Ellis suffered a six-month pop-culture-overload-induced epileptic seizure and wrote the whole thing in a week-long meth-fueled diapered binge. It's terrific.

It's easy to miss a lot on the first time through, but not in the "LOST"-ish "Oh, I didn't see that symbol tattooed on his inner thigh" or "Oh, I should have examined that panel upside-down and through red filter lens" way that is so popular these days. I'm finding out I missed quite a lot.

It is just, like Watchmen was, a big complicated jigsaw puzzle. However, unlike Watchmen, some of the puzzle pieces don't fit. Some are the wrong size. A lot are from a different puzzle entirely, and are discarded. Not everything is wrapped in a neat package by series end, and it's okay. Some of those discarded pieces make up the most heart-wrenching stories in the tale. They're casualties.

Oh, and the puzzle is completed at the end of the run, something that certain television shows (and certain comic books) will never claim to offer.

You really need to read this, not only if you love superhero comics, but especially if you hate superhero comics.

Don't Worry About It, You'll Be Fine...

Yeah, I'm not big on pulsing headaches. I haven't started a weekly podcast singing their praises. Not a fan. For some reason, though, pulsing headaches have been a big part of my life this weekend.

Maybe it's all that exercise I've been doing for the last few of months. We can fix that.

Wife-Lady has informed me that in the Heroes/24 throwdown going down tonight, Heroes is going to be the winner in our home. I'm surprised. I'm not big on pulsing headaches, but I am big on nuclear explosions and fallout (the fictional kind, not the real kind).

Aaaand I'm blogging about television again. Seriously, what's my problem?

Comic-wise, I'm reading tons of writer interviews in this and this, which have been very exciting reads (non-affiliate links). It's very motivational. I've got my nine issue series laid out.

The only time I've submitted a script sample was to Dark Horse comics back in 1996 or so. I was probably 19. It was an awful script, and they told me to keep trying. I think I knew it would be rejected even before I submitted it. I knew zero about comics. I did a very mature, responsible thing and gave up immediately. I also stopped buying comics for about eight years.

I have no idea why I started buying comics again, nor do I have any idea why I started writing again.

I still know very little, particularly about writing them. I have no plans to make writing comics my occupation, but I do enjoy doing it. I'm a part-timer. I'm lazy. I procrastinate. My current goal is a page a day. That should mean roughly a comic a month. I second-guess every word I write.

I think I'm more Harvey Pekar than Peter David.

According to Peter, he bangs out a comic script in about six hours.

And that's why I hate people like Peter David.

The first step is recognizing you have a problem.

Gaming quote of the day:

From my daughter:

"I love it when Daddy kills the robots."

Wormsign.

News: None, really. Everybody's getting sick.

The oranges in California are all dying.

I suspect this man to be the cause:

What else? Last night, I just read a Todd McFarlane interview that was about the most inspiring, motivating piece of work I've ever read, for all the wrong reasons: "I just make up pages, and shuffle them around until I think it looks okay. I don't know anything about writing!" Astounding.

Watched Soylent Green (obviously) and Dune last week.

Soylent Green was awful, but only half as awful as The Omega Man was. The only redeeming quality of the film was the clear evidence that Charleton Heston is one heck of an actor. Even when the material is dross, he dominates every second of every scene. He could have pulled off the Ten Commandments even if he had been wearing a clown suit.

As for Dune, it still holds up very well. I don't know precisely why it got the abuse it did at its release. The acting held up. The special effects were serviceable. The story was challenging and a little swiss-cheesed from the novel, but it was still followable. Paul's the good guy, the Harkonnens are the bad guys, Paul's a freaking arch-diety. Very simple. And the production design was excellent.

Finally: the quantity of quotable lines approaches infinity, or maybe, eight.

"My name is a killing word."

"What's in the box?" "Pain."

"They tried and failed?" "They tried and died."

"The Sleeper has Awakened!"

"Fear is the Mindkiller. Fear is the little death that brings total obliteration."

"It is by will alone I set my mind in motion."

"The spice must flow."

and...

"I WILL KILL YOU!"

(See also: Milking Cats.)

Foods that Conner Enjoys:

Cheerios
Cheese
Toast
Baby Snacky Things
Pears
Applesauce
Peaches
Soylent Green

Dump.

Why is it that all my good ideas come to me in the shower, where I don't have anything to write on? I'm working my way back into to making writing a regular habit. Convention season is coming up, and I at least want to walk in knowing I have something in my holster, even if it's a Derringer.

Here, I'm getting all the music videos that are trapped in my head dumped out.

I inflict, I don't share.



Behave - Charlotte Hatherley. I'm not a girl-rock person, but Charlotte Hatherley is just too darn catchy. Macross Saga/Wing Commander visuals. And creepy drunken naughtiness.



Hell Yes - Beck. Beck is Beck, and I've been grinding through his stuff again over the last six months. Dancing robots.



Here It Goes Again - OK Go. Not new, but still fun. I know zero about Ok Go. Honestly, this is only included because Kate can't get enough of this video. Which means multiple, multiple viewings.

Interweb 2.9!

Despite how stupid the entire Web 2.0 movement sounds, periodically they kick out a real gem.

For example:
-Youtube works.
-GEverything works great.
-Del.icio.us is freaking heavensent manna, stuffed with Starburst and Werthers like a celestial piñata.
-Digg is... a prime example of the idiocy of mob rule, but it works.

I started using Netvibes a week or two ago. It mostly works. Some bugs in the RSS feed updates, a little chunky when running on a slower computer, but it's mighty handy for compiling all my feeds/blogs/mail into a single customized page. It's almost there. I will keep using it.

Try it, tell me I'm dumb for liking it.

Superdeedooper Heroes!

Since I haven't blogged in forever, I'm castigating myself with forced television blogging. Like a weathered scourge. Spare the fortieth lash.

I'm pretty big on escapism in its various forms. Any time I hear of a new fanboy movement, however, I cringe and try to hold the material in question at arms length.

Which is why I've avoided NBC's Heroes like the plague, until now.

Flashback, Saturday morning. I was bored. I was supposed to be writing or cleaning. Or rebuilding my PC. Or any number of more important things.

But instead, I wound up heading over to NBC's website and checking out the show. They put all of the episodes from the first season online. So I watched the first one.

And then I watched the rest of them.

It was a television binge I hadn't experienced as badly since I got hooked on 24.

It's not Shakespeare. Lots of people get superpowers and are very confused. But it is engaging and original. It's hard to pull out new surprises when you're feeding a horde of comic book fans that have been "shooting up" the superhero drug for a lifetime.

I liked it. And I like Jeph Loeb.

This from a guy who's gone through superhero rehab.

If you've got a Saturday when you should be doing other things, check it out.

It could definitely be a lot worse.

Ah, memories.

Remember when I used to blog?

I do.

The Omega Man Knows How To Love

Here's a Christmas gift from me to you:

Do Not Watch The Omega Man

I checked out this 1971 sci-fi flick hoping for an updated rendition of the beautifully creepy "The Last Man On Earth" starring Vincent Price. I dig Charlton Heston. Planet of the Apes was cool. I'm still looking forward to Soylent Green.

Great Scott, The Omega Man was awful. Take leftover hippy rhetoric, mix it with campy violence and touches of blaxploitation motifs, add a wholly inappropriate score, and you've got your Omega Man. "Man, the government's out to kill us, man. It's our love of technology which is destroying our inner soul child, brother." I get it. The crazy part is, the preaching is coming from the "bad guys" which are just downright goofy. They're like Batman thugs that are pulling down a job for Egghead.

See, they're mutants 'cause they see in the dark.

I'm just bitter because I actually wanted this movie to be good.

Another item on the "Reasons I Hate The Seventies" list.

Go see The Last Man on Earth instead.