tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-63468807176559127792024-02-18T21:41:07.921-05:00Flimsy RationalesAnother pathetic attempt to seem marginally interesting. It's cheaper than therapy.....Ray R.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00816558221155415778noreply@blogger.comBlogger68125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6346880717655912779.post-1838268318183149942010-05-11T13:34:00.001-04:002010-05-11T13:37:19.488-04:00Golden Age Artist Spotlight -- Frank Frazetta -- UPDATED<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFyoelSxnJOn71Zl7frmw3OwWT_XPC0gUhm1qZVip33DIMJQa4Rt-Fmf18fd7HGBbw5_ZK1cPtZ9Z40MHzDWJZ3DMSr1eQ8Eqy24sihc9OPGLDSSFYNzJq_a76mAtN8VD2AGjNXZiarpY/s1600-h/ff_silver_warrior.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ps="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFyoelSxnJOn71Zl7frmw3OwWT_XPC0gUhm1qZVip33DIMJQa4Rt-Fmf18fd7HGBbw5_ZK1cPtZ9Z40MHzDWJZ3DMSr1eQ8Eqy24sihc9OPGLDSSFYNzJq_a76mAtN8VD2AGjNXZiarpY/s640/ff_silver_warrior.jpg" /></a></div><br />
UPDATE: 5/11/10<br />
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The news regarding Frazetta's death hit the wires yesterday. Frazetta passed away at the age of 82. I was never very good at obituary-writing, but suffice to say that Frazetta was an artistic influence that cannot be overestimated. His work redefined several genres, including comics, paperbacks, and sword-and-sorcery, among others. <br />
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Here is a re-published interview with Gary Groth at The Comics Journal (originally conducted in 1994). It shows great insights into the man: <a href="http://www.tcj.com/interviews/frank-frazetta-interview">Frank Frazetta Interview</a>.<br />
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R.I.P.<br />
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Comic books were just an early part of his success, his breaking-in phase. Frazetta went on to become one of the most well-known fantasy artists of the twentieth century, illustrating beautiful painted book covers (famously for Robert E. Howard's "<em>Conan</em>" and Edgar Rice Burroughs' <em>Tarzan</em> and <em>John Carter</em>), album covers (for bands like Molly Hatchet and Nazareth), movie posters (including <em>What's New, Pussycat</em>, <em>Mad Max</em>, <em>The Guantlet</em>, and his cinematic collaboration with Ralph Bakshi, <em>Fire and Ice</em>), and comic strips, including Al Capp's <em>Lil' Abner</em>, Dan Barry's <em>Flash Gordon</em>, and Harvey Kurtzman's <em>Little Annie Fanny</em> in <em>Playboy </em>magazine. <br />
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Again, as heavily covered in the documentary, Frazetta was bigger than life. He was, and still is, tough as nails. This is a man, who after suffering a stroke and losing the ability to draw with his right hand, taught himself to draw with his left and continued to produce world-class art work. His kinetic, photo-realistic drawings of the human form grounded the often-far-flung fantasy genre, which in combination with the heightened availability of mass market paperbacks featuring his artwork, paved the way for an entire subgenre of art, allowing artists like Simon Bisley, Boris Vallejo, Jeff Jones and others to find success. Frazetta is a true American original, in a way that the simple, overused label cannot understate.<br />
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The trailer from <em>Frank Frazetta: Painting with Fire</em>, which plays occasionally on the movie channel IFC and is available on DVD:<br />
<div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><object height="322" style="clear: right; float: right;" width="512"><param name="movie" value="http://d.yimg.com/static.video.yahoo.com/yep/YV_YEP.swf?ver=2.2.46" /><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true" /><param name="AllowScriptAccess" VALUE="always" /><param name="bgcolor" value="#000000" /><param name="flashVars" value="id=476464&vid=134417&lang=en-us&intl=us&thumbUrl=http%3A//l.yimg.com/a/i/us/sch/cn/v/v0/w394/134417_320_224.jpeg&embed=1" /><embed src="http://d.yimg.com/static.video.yahoo.com/yep/YV_YEP.swf?ver=2.2.46" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="512" height="322" allowFullScreen="true" AllowScriptAccess="always" bgcolor="#000000" flashVars="id=476464&vid=134417&lang=en-us&intl=us&thumbUrl=http%3A//l.yimg.com/a/i/us/sch/cn/v/v0/w394/134417_320_224.jpeg&embed=1" ></embed></object></div><a href="http://video.yahoo.com/watch/134417/476464">"Frazetta: Painting With Fire" Trailer</a> @ <a href="http://video.yahoo.com/">Yahoo! Video</a></div><br />
While his comic book cover art isn't voluminous, it is memorable. I remember buying my first <em>Famous Funnies</em> Frazetta book, and spending time looking at every time I set up at a comic convention. I have tried, and often failed, to purchase Frazetta-covered magazines from Jim Warren's stable of seventies classics, including <em>Creepy</em> and <em>Eerie</em>. In attempting this exercise, it's amazing to note how few "so-so" covers there are. I could put up virtually his entire comic book cover catalogue....<br />
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Enjoy!<br />
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text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYyBG6q6DYRSjt_D9eeOi1M3YhE4rgHvB-cfyAoHyvq-dLsdnTBA87DDxtl8VOg8gga402imSGkpPRQesbZYnPjf4eojp_ot2VNYBXwb-W00-z8VMT_qsDPF5Div2I_yq7Bx1hY4MoHqU/s1600-h/329350.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" ps="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYyBG6q6DYRSjt_D9eeOi1M3YhE4rgHvB-cfyAoHyvq-dLsdnTBA87DDxtl8VOg8gga402imSGkpPRQesbZYnPjf4eojp_ot2VNYBXwb-W00-z8VMT_qsDPF5Div2I_yq7Bx1hY4MoHqU/s640/329350.jpg" width="481" /></a></div>Ray R.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00816558221155415778noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6346880717655912779.post-37706658997280627252010-04-20T14:17:00.000-04:002010-04-20T14:17:58.249-04:00Golden Age Artist Spotlight -- Sheldon Moldoff<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggbCK76dJPfbUF2vkhEUrEKgQSgslwVY4VvPtMeoapyE6ym3Geukk5mmJ894lhjgQ2pzbsSJybVGrCdieCxhFqAxIIn1itUBHk261A3_e1_oX6iXoSwgSKcmciYVogBk35xU2zo-ZsX0g/s1600/moldoff4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; 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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Sheldon "Shelly" Moldoff celebrated his 90th birthday last Wednesday. A living legacy, Moldoff has had an impact on comics that cannot be underestimated. Besides his obvious stylistic influences on characters like Hawkman, the golden age Green Lantern, and Batman, Moldoff also created a bevy of new characters like Poison Ivy, Ace the Bathound, Hawkgirl, The Black Pirate, and Moon Girl. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I will expand upon this blog post at a later time (I'm still reviewing some audio sources), and will discuss some rather controversial treatment of Moldoff by some legendary comic figures, but wanted to get both a placeholder and an exhibition of some of Moldoff's most distinctive covers (as well as a PSA and a Batman interior). </div><a name='more'></a><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
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</div><blockquote><div align="center">"When I sat down to work at <strong>Chesler</strong>, I started with a blank piece of paper and did the whole bit: I penciled it and I lettered it and I inked the lettering and then I inked the pencil drawings and turned out the finished product. I know of no other way to work." -- Fred Guardineer (interviewed by Dylan Williams in <strong>Comics Journal</strong> #282)</div></blockquote><br />
Jerry Siegel and Joe Shuster are the names that come to mind when <strong>Action Comics</strong> #1 is discussed. For those not in the know, it's the historic issue featuring the very first appearance of Superman, and depending on who you talk to, also heralding the success of an entire medium. A recent on-line auction of a higher-grade copy of this issue went for a reported million dollar final gavel price. But Superman wasn't the only costumed hero making his debut in the first issue of <strong>Action</strong>. There was also a tuxedoed magician-detective named Zatara with the ability to create magic by speaking commands backwards (it's probably more impressive displayed in print than in real life -- where it probably resembles a mentally ill person shouting gobbly-gook or a Baptist preacher speaking in tongues). Fred Guardineer was the creator of this sartorially splendid magical crimefighter. Zatara, while often on the periphery of <strong>D.C. Comics</strong> up through the decades following his debut, did outlive a good chunk of his golden age compatriots, finally meeting his demise in an issue of <strong>Swamp Thing</strong> (#50) in 1986. His daughter Zatanna, famous for the fishnet stockings, continues his backwards-spoken-spell legacy in the Justice League and in her own set of solo series. But Zatara wasn't Guardineer's only magician-adventurer. Zatara was merely the first, of many magic-spouting heroes, across numerous comic companies, most lost to the ages.<br />
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Guardineer was born in 1913, and grew up in Albany, New York. Guardineer became a rarity in that day and age, a college-educated comic artist, after graduating from Syracuse University in 1935, with a degree in fine arts. Like many other Syracuse grads, he continued to follow their nationally-recognized sports teams for the rest of his life, and bemoaned the lack of Orangemen lacrosse coverage when he relocated in his later years to California. His first art job came about after he walked in off the street into the <strong>Harry 'A' Chesler</strong> offices and negotiated a pay rate of $15-$20 a week. He drew for both the pulps and the comics, strip art in particular, both daily and Sundays on the <strong>Dan Hastings</strong> adventure strip from 1937 through 1938. While at <strong>Chesler</strong> he was introduced to the equally talented Jack Cole, who he would later work with at <strong>Quality Comics</strong>, working for Busy Arnold. He also appropriated one of his most valuable possessions at <strong>Chesler</strong> -- a drawing desk. He exhanged his own desk with the one he was assigned at <strong>Chesler</strong>, and ended up dragging it down the street to the hotel he was staying at, then to his studio, then finally out to his home in Long Island. He worked on that desk his entire life.<br />
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But it was a twelve page back-up feature that would signal a bigger move. While also contributing work to <strong>Centaur</strong>, Guardineer developed Zatara and pitched it to <strong>D.C.</strong>, who were developing a new action-based series of comic books. That series turned into <strong>Action Comics</strong> (which also led to work in Adventure <strong>Comics</strong>, <strong>More Fun Comics</strong>, <strong>Detective Comics</strong>, and other superhero/adventure series). Guardineer was a perfect fit for early <strong>D.C.</strong>, utilizing a clean, clear style, and possessing that most important quality of speed. Guardineer was also a self-taught letterer. He had a dorm-mate studying engineering who had an additional printing textbook. Guardineer practiced each exercise diligently until he had the form and technique for filling word-balloons down pat. He also used photo references relentlessly, and kept a huge clippings file, and remarked that no magazine escaped his house without being stripped clean of every photograph available. Perhaps as a consequence of looking through so many pics, Guardineer often enjoyed putting photographic likenesses of Hollywood stars into his comic book art, including a notable cameo of Clark Gable into an issue of the cowboy comic <strong>Durango Kid</strong>. As the covers show below, Guardineer was selected for a wide range of cover assignments at <strong>D.C.</strong> in addition to his regular twelve page interiors (<strong>Pep Morgan</strong> and <strong>Speed Sanders</strong> being regular Guardineer-drawn features along with <strong>Zatara</strong>), my favorite cover being a blood-spewing elephant attacking some big game hunters. It's been also been noted that one of his Zatara stories, in <strong>Action Comics</strong> #12, might feature the first same sex couple in the history of comic books -- where two kingdoms continually at war settle their differences by having their two queens share the same combined throne and rule the dual lands as "wife and wife." <br />
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Guardineer then moved on to <strong>Quality Comics</strong>, creating characters like the <strong>Blue Tracer</strong>: <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje1LYFil4Xz8SPalVuMuYYyo__yaziadpTQJigaG_YwweprJ4ytL6tFZCM9o85wOdywlKcqnRz7VX8KUPljGVLoTbhCA-COFU_76sd0YlUc1tLA5DMSu-4b0s7tc7wxgriSGzsbxJuSOE/s1600/guardineer1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" nt="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje1LYFil4Xz8SPalVuMuYYyo__yaziadpTQJigaG_YwweprJ4ytL6tFZCM9o85wOdywlKcqnRz7VX8KUPljGVLoTbhCA-COFU_76sd0YlUc1tLA5DMSu-4b0s7tc7wxgriSGzsbxJuSOE/s640/guardineer1.jpg" width="467" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">As well as features like this splash page (for the <strong>Lev Gleason</strong> comic <strong>Crime Does NOT Pay</strong>):</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnY8avjjCL2MFAZ5Jcm7WUSNJJI5n1Fx-ETfswCS03GJoDPhU3228RTuzbg4wkcz4enPVvTYyx1yLPULtoq7ItduXpytC09zOIBRwkdO2zNjc-8AIt98Gdiu14SsFmTjcR6b8_xBInaHA/s1600/guardineer2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" nt="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnY8avjjCL2MFAZ5Jcm7WUSNJJI5n1Fx-ETfswCS03GJoDPhU3228RTuzbg4wkcz4enPVvTYyx1yLPULtoq7ItduXpytC09zOIBRwkdO2zNjc-8AIt98Gdiu14SsFmTjcR6b8_xBInaHA/s640/guardineer2.jpg" width="450" /></a></div><br />
While at other companies like <strong>Quality</strong>, <strong>Columbia Comics</strong>, <strong>Marvel</strong>, <strong>Hillman</strong> and <strong>ME Publications</strong>, Guardineer also found that when a formula works, it might work again somewhere else. Hence a series of clones of Zatara, including such characters as Merlin the Magician, Tor the Magic Master, Yarko the Great, and Marvelo, tuxedoed and mustachioed to a man. They didn't all start off wielding the superpower of magical backwards-speak like Zatara, but eventually most of them did. Again, if it ain't broke, don't fix it. Maybe to stave off the comparisons, Guardineer worked under pseudonyms during this time period, including Lance Blackwood, F.G.B., and Gene Baxter. Additional creations during this time (early to mid-forties) include characters like Moon-Man, Dragon, The Mouthpiece and features like <strong>Anchors Aweigh</strong>. From 1949 to 1955, Guardineer drew the western feature, <strong>The Durango Kid</strong> (issues #19-41) for <strong>Magazine Enterprises</strong>, working for his old <strong>Action Comics</strong> editor Vin Sullivan.<br />
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In 1955, at the age of 42, Guardineer saw the comics companies consolidating, collapsing, and cutting artists left and right. He retired from regular comics drawing to start a career with the U.S. Postal Service, where he worked for the next twenty years. Even while at the post office, he continued to provide drawings and written features for hunting and fishing columns in local newspapers and on the radio, and supplemented his income later in life with cover re-creations of his early <strong>Action Comics</strong> covers. <br />
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As noted by Mark Evanier in his blog <a href="http://www.newsfromme.com/archives/2004_05_06.html">here</a>, in 1998 Guardineer attended <strong>Comic-Con International</strong> to be part of several panels, including one gathering every surviving person who had a hand in the creation of <strong>Action Comics</strong> #1. Guardineer also received the <strong>Inkpot Award</strong> that same year. Reportedly, Guardineer was most flattered, gracious and surprised by all the attention he received at that and other California cons. He passed away on September 13, 2002. <br />
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Enjoy the covers!<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh46xuJP8S3xm8OO3j8G14SxXGgTCuy2bjFQ104Hwq2yhNaXGY1ie0U4R70Li7IqY6keU1Hz_WSqsHDkXCfHE5kD006KkPOgW3LN3ECSfDJ1bXsz8hySXI1inZ6Lr86THEZEmwqZ6c_b-U/s1600/guardineer15.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" nt="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh46xuJP8S3xm8OO3j8G14SxXGgTCuy2bjFQ104Hwq2yhNaXGY1ie0U4R70Li7IqY6keU1Hz_WSqsHDkXCfHE5kD006KkPOgW3LN3ECSfDJ1bXsz8hySXI1inZ6Lr86THEZEmwqZ6c_b-U/s400/guardineer15.jpg" width="286" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjp6qlzN91-eFrnmsb5zX_TTtOzaj9p0_d-LUbAnkx1EA8zX_QPld5JK-8fZ1iKX53P6z_x8emNYZlnUBOfTn6d4KH6VndhW0HirAohBKJuXYNzyaQWpiyfVYrKlA7cft3igiuf9JLv4CA/s1600/guardineer4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" nt="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjp6qlzN91-eFrnmsb5zX_TTtOzaj9p0_d-LUbAnkx1EA8zX_QPld5JK-8fZ1iKX53P6z_x8emNYZlnUBOfTn6d4KH6VndhW0HirAohBKJuXYNzyaQWpiyfVYrKlA7cft3igiuf9JLv4CA/s400/guardineer4.jpg" width="291" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0EM8YVQG1rHy353CqGHGZ2RyuqvF_9P9vjSMvUM6BH9PKRim2xCCzq2W4JRovSOgGoXsHszLlokhTgZSwQgwPxekW6XK-JGTJWtuxTPMDeiBdEldmG2aE87TZEq07mqGieg-uzpz8oGI/s1600/guardineer14.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; 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text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_Cmki4Odqs0jaH27Tz5JqlfPqCqzTj8D0W880lqvbSNCClvSmGyRfRdw_zCu1IVqG99Y59vYR2etQEjJtQsfv1NvKXzKOoRTb1z7MOUwH355pHZXic1UzXWKt40FvMugpTq3edaxUmnc/s1600-h/maneely5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_Cmki4Odqs0jaH27Tz5JqlfPqCqzTj8D0W880lqvbSNCClvSmGyRfRdw_zCu1IVqG99Y59vYR2etQEjJtQsfv1NvKXzKOoRTb1z7MOUwH355pHZXic1UzXWKt40FvMugpTq3edaxUmnc/s400/maneely5.jpg" vt="true" width="267" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Joe Maneely was as much a story of "What if?" as he was an example of a prolific, immensely talented golden age artist. He was a relative star for <strong>Atlas Comics</strong> (Martin Goodman's precursor to <strong>Marvel Comics</strong>), and handled assignments in every genre. An excellent draftsman, Maneely drew characters and scenes with a distinctive style, yet with almost photo-realistic detail. His cowboys dressed like real cowboys and his soldiers fought with off-the-assembly-line-like gear. His drawing was above all action-oriented. Not as pretty as some other artists, but very vivid. And his inking became stylized over time, resembling fine etching as he reached the apex of his career. </div><a name='more'></a><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Maneely was born and raised in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. After dropping out of high school his sophomore year, Joe enlisted in the Navy, serving three years as a specialist in visual aids and contributing cartoons to ship newspapers. In 1947, after his discharge, Maneely married his childhood sweetheart. Under the G.I. Bill, Maneely trained at the Hussian School of Art in Philadelphia. His first professional art experience began in the art department at the <strong>Philadelphia Bulletin</strong>. His first comics work came via freelance for <strong>Street & Smith Publications</strong>. With several other artists, Maneely formed an arts studio in Philadelphia. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Shortly after the birth of his first daughter (he and his wife Elizabeth would have two more daughters), Maneely would begin working for the outfit that would fully showcase his talents: <strong>Atlas Comics</strong>. <strong>Atlas</strong> was in the process of transitioning from the superhero-centric books of <strong>Timely</strong> to the globe-logoed <strong>Atlas</strong> books, which moved into a host of different genres, including westerns, horror, crime, science fiction, and humor (following <strong>E.C. Comics'</strong> lead in most of these area no doubt-- most golden age comic publishers were nothing if not devoted imitators). From 1950 until 1955, Maneely freelanced for <strong>Atlas</strong>, at which time he went on staff. Until his family moved to Queens in 1953, Maneely actually traveled back and forth from Philadelphia to New York three times a week via train to pick up scripts. In either 1954 or 1955, the Maneely family moved to suburban New Shrewsbury, New Jersey.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Quickly becoming a favorite of writer/editor Stan Lee, Maneely possessed two qualities that would serve him greatly as a comic book artist -- speed and versatility. As the covers below show, Maneely could handle any assignment, in any genre. He could go from drawing <strong>Petey the Pest</strong> to the <strong>Black Knight</strong>. In researching this piece, I was amazed to see that in roughly seven years at <strong>Atlas</strong>, Maneely drew approximately four hundred covers (assuming that the <a href="http://www.comics.org/">GCD</a>'s records are accurate). These were not quick-scribbled, minimalist, hack-jobs either. Most of these covers had an amazing amount of action, detail, and linework. This does not even count his interior pages, which he was estimated to produce at a rate of seven pages a day. Hence the nickname other <strong>Atlas</strong> contemporaries gave him: "Joe Money." </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">But by the summer of 1957, work at <strong>Atlas</strong> was drying up. Shortly afterward, Martin Goodman stopped distributing his own titles, and switched to <strong>American News Company</strong>, which soon went belly-up, leaving <strong>Atlas Comics</strong> without a distributor and which prompted Goodman to fire all staff except for Stan Lee, Maneely included. With the loss of his primary income, Maneely had to scramble for a limited number of freelance assignments for <strong>DC/National</strong>, <strong>Charlton Comics</strong>, <strong>Crestwood Publications</strong>, and federal goverment PSA comics. He also continued to draw (with Lee writing) a <strong>Chicago Sun Times</strong>-syndicated comic strip <strong>Mrs. Lyon's Cubs</strong>, which debuted on February 10, 1958. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Then came the night of June 7, 1958. After meeting with other laid-off <strong>Atlas</strong> colleagues in Manhattan, and enjoying dinner and drinks, Maneely boarded a commuter train and headed back to his home in New Jersey. At some point on the ride home, he walked out on the platform between passenger cars and fell between them, and was killed. He was thirty-two years old. It's alleged that he was still clutching his artist's portfolio when his body was found.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">How Maneely died is not in debate, why he died is another. There have been accusations from his widow that he fell because of symptoms related to exhaustion brought on by excessive workloads at <strong>Atlas</strong>, rumors of suicide related to fallout of the <strong>Atlas</strong> layoff, questions of drunkenness and missing eyeglasses contributing to accidental tragedy. In any case, Maneely left behind a load of bills, a house recently purchased, zero savings, and three young children. It was a tragedy that would not only deprive the world of a huge talent, but devastate a family for years to come. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">What compounds the loss is that Atlas was only a short time away from a renaissance as <strong>Marvel Comics</strong>. Fellow <strong>Atlas</strong> artists Steve Ditko and Jack Kirby would go on to co-create the <strong>Amazing Spider-Man</strong>, the <strong>Fantastic Four</strong>, the <strong>Incredible Hulk</strong>, and a host of other familiar characters. There's every reason to believe that Maneely, had he lived, would have been a huge part of the "new" <strong>Marvel</strong>. Whether Maneely would have substituted for Kirby or Ditko on <strong>FF</strong> or <strong>Spider-man</strong> is obviously debateable. Mark Evanier, who worked closely with Kirby, notes <a href="http://www.newsfromme.com/archives/2007_09_12.html">here</a> that:</div><blockquote>First off, if Maneely had lived, <strong>Atlas/Marvel</strong> would have been a very different company. Actually, between him and Kirby and Ditko (Stan's other favorite artist), there would have been little room for anyone else to draw for the firm. ... As I wrote in a recent <strong>Jack Kirby Collector</strong>, 'Would it [<strong>Rawhide Kid</strong>] have gained readers if Stan had put Maneely on the book? Who knows? Sometimes, it's not a matter of having a good artist but of having the right good artist and the right chemistry.' [Re: <strong> Fantastic Four</strong>] - The Lee-Maneely team would have come up with a completely different comic. Would it have sold as well and spawned a new Renaissance in super-hero funnybooks? Again, who knows?</blockquote>My two cents is that Kirby had already been known as an established and well-respected artist for decades prior to co-creating the <strong>Fantastic Four</strong> with Stan Lee, so no substitution was warranted or likely. Perhaps Kirby never gets hired. I doubt that severely. I think it's more likely that Maneely would have taken the spot that Don Heck and others filled (a Maneely <strong>Iron Man</strong> perhaps), and he probably would have done the majority of non-super hero work, including westerns, and he might have led to the creation of lots of new titles, superhero or otherwise. Or not. Guessing Maneely's impact is an interesting intellectual exercise, if only to deepen the impact of the tragedy; like Kirby or Ditko is now, Maneely might have been on the short list of the greatest comic book artists of the entire medium, as he was just coming into the prime of his career when it was horrifically cut short. <br />
<br />
There are fewer available reprints of Maneely's works than one might expect. There are a list of <strong>Marvel</strong> reprints on Maneely's wikipedia <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Joe_Maneely">page</a> and there is a well-regarded <strong>Marvel Masterworks</strong> hardcover collection of Maneely's <strong>Black Knight</strong> and <strong>Yellow Claw</strong> series (containing nice Kirby art as well) available <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Marvel-Masterworks-Atlas-Knight-Yellow/dp/0785135154/ref=cm_cr_pr_product_top">here</a>. It's slightly distressing to see that, despite being part of the larger Marvel legacy, there has been very little in terms of <strong>Atlas</strong> reprinting on a broad, widely available basis, or a particular emphasis on producing a complete artist's profile. With the reprint market holding steady, one might hope for a <strong>Complete Maneely</strong> series sometime in the near future. Maneely deserves the retrospection and the respect. His was a bright star that extinguished much too early.<br />
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Enjoy the covers, and I welcome your observations and insights. <br />
<br />
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<blockquote> </blockquote>Ray R.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00816558221155415778noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6346880717655912779.post-75589139535619672082010-03-04T14:09:00.003-05:002010-03-04T14:16:50.554-05:00Golden Age Artist Spotlight -- Irwin Hasen<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtlDTtqXoNuFTsfDQCYKJFexCwOKRs4hVJtcOmZG0CyHB8E6TUlWUZFKv1eWMk3KOSmjN-1IA3UxYZjuUT-xVaoY5lnn748BsrhWeSijtTyIV_3xYzu9LRr803P_WwiEERAxGZjDtj5IY/s1600-h/hasen4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" kt="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtlDTtqXoNuFTsfDQCYKJFexCwOKRs4hVJtcOmZG0CyHB8E6TUlWUZFKv1eWMk3KOSmjN-1IA3UxYZjuUT-xVaoY5lnn748BsrhWeSijtTyIV_3xYzu9LRr803P_WwiEERAxGZjDtj5IY/s400/hasen4.jpg" width="288" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Irwin Hasen was born in 1918 on the west side of Manhattan, and lived around 110th Street and Amsterdam Ave. Like many of the other creators profiled on this site, Hasen was always drawing as a child (and then as a teenager). He devoured the Sunday comics, and appreciated the artistic talents of legends like Roy Crane (of <strong>Wash Tubbs</strong> fame) and Milton Caniff. A graduate of DeWitt Clinton High School, Hasen had the fortunate circumstances of a supportive mom and the <strong>National Academy of Design</strong> across the street. A class in drawing turned into three years of drawing instruction and attendance at the <strong>Art Students League</strong> (also in Manhattan). </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Hasen started out as a boxing cartoonist, doing caricatures, action poses and blurbs, which were then sold to Madison Square Garden as pre-fight public relations for the weekly fights. This association with boxing probably led to the creation (with the golden age legendary writer Bill Finger) of <strong>Wildcat</strong>, whose alter ego is Ted Grant (no relation to the anchorman who worked with Mary Tyler Moore, presumably) and whose dayjob was heavyweight boxing champion of the world. Hasen went fully into comic books in 1940, working on such titles as <strong>The Green Hornet</strong>, <strong>The Fox</strong>, <strong>Secret Agent Z-2</strong>, <strong>Bob Preston, Explorer</strong>, <strong>Cat-Man</strong>, and <strong>The Flash</strong>, through the Harry 'A' Chesler shop. While at <strong>All American Comics/DC</strong>, in addition to <strong>Wildcat</strong>, Hasen drew stories and covers for <strong>Green Lantern</strong>, <strong>The</strong> <strong>Flash</strong>, <strong>Wonder Woman</strong>, and <strong>All-Star Comics</strong>. Under the editorship of Sheldon Mayer (who will get his own spotlight here soon), Hasen contributed many memorable works, including being the only artist who drew a complete 38 page <strong>All-Star</strong> comic (they were generally divided up among artists to concentrate on individual characters, with another artist doing the wrap-around story as well). He was also able to work as a contemporary with young artists like Alex Toth and Joe Kubert, and noted their incredible talent right off the bat. Unfortunately, with a change in editorial direction, Hasen, like other artists responsible for the birth of the golden age, was unceremoniously let go by D.C. A bachelor in his thirties, Hasen took this opportunity to travel the great cities of Europe and expand his horizons.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">It was another trip to Europe, this time Germany, during the Korean War, to draw for the troops as part of a USO contingent, that Hasen encountered another opportunity, after meeting Gus Edson, to be a regular artist on a daily strip, to be named <strong>Dondi</strong>. An adventure strip about a young boy, the collaboration started in 1955, and lasted until discontinuation in 1986. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Post-<strong>Dondi</strong>, Hasen went into semi-retirement, but even now, in his early nineties, he continues to create and teach. A long-established senior instructor at the <strong>Joe Kubert School</strong>, and despite a stroke in the spring of 2007, Hasen has just recently produced an entertaining 128 page graphic novel, semi-autographical, called <strong>Loverboy</strong>, and available directly from the publisher <strong>Vanguard</strong> <a href="http://www.vanguardproductions.net/hasen/index">here</a> (and via Amazon <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Loverboy-Irwin-Hasen/dp/1934331317">here</a>). A regular featured guest at conventions, Hasen continues to provide a living legacy of the golden age. He might be short in stature (topping out at 5'2"), but he stands tall as a creator. It seems appropriate that Hasen is most proud of his tenure as the editor and publisher of the Fort Dix Post, a military base newspaper in New Jersey, during World War II. He virtually handled every single aspect of the publication, from editing, writing, interviewing celebrities, taking to the printers, distribution, to of course, handling the comic page. He worked so hard on the job that he ended up in the hospital. That's dedication to serving others, including his country, before himself. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhEf-WeT1uSgGzoT73OjQfQgomhbXePqIaYzdlvXoz4l7HuGQEyLg0qQB6osB_JJMkCdYySiMKoT-GXvqj2Fjv98YKhTH_eNH094fSi8135_eTAv7DrcLAH2dMZdjeA5ITjaR7Ggfrx2E/s1600-h/hasenprofile.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" kt="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhEf-WeT1uSgGzoT73OjQfQgomhbXePqIaYzdlvXoz4l7HuGQEyLg0qQB6osB_JJMkCdYySiMKoT-GXvqj2Fjv98YKhTH_eNH094fSi8135_eTAv7DrcLAH2dMZdjeA5ITjaR7Ggfrx2E/s320/hasenprofile.bmp" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">So, if you see him at a convention, at the Joe Kubert School, or on the street, remember to thank him. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Enjoy the covers!</div><a name='more'></a><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwnNC4D9AhHpQf-5XsGpk14JJWKSjhAIrsIqGm0Hmcs_IW9sA1BThSWGQQJVU0JlyDWm1bUa1q8YKgSerzvUGCJ_Z6jlK6z10rGLDhftFnL_Y2qebhJBG8msWMkdfjgoTHQSpgh8ikmTY/s1600-h/hasen8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" kt="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwnNC4D9AhHpQf-5XsGpk14JJWKSjhAIrsIqGm0Hmcs_IW9sA1BThSWGQQJVU0JlyDWm1bUa1q8YKgSerzvUGCJ_Z6jlK6z10rGLDhftFnL_Y2qebhJBG8msWMkdfjgoTHQSpgh8ikmTY/s400/hasen8.jpg" width="287" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3KSh7tFx5_-4dKUlwKnoLa9d1KM2jl_ISlKd426IHO5aG5Zq8ccHkTb1WiO3Ucu2AX88t4u3LaKN4vttS3YoDVwWBAlOWWj01nDW1f-SCFIyDgaab_SIi46rs0LJSMJqqJr2jFOQpMfA/s1600-h/hasen10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" kt="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3KSh7tFx5_-4dKUlwKnoLa9d1KM2jl_ISlKd426IHO5aG5Zq8ccHkTb1WiO3Ucu2AX88t4u3LaKN4vttS3YoDVwWBAlOWWj01nDW1f-SCFIyDgaab_SIi46rs0LJSMJqqJr2jFOQpMfA/s400/hasen10.jpg" width="280" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEin32iTnjZjD9DJR1ixex1Pqqb-gC14GJgwmomgr4grmlZioSGa794uGNrXJf4qavW51iYci4tsFglstqM9UCQq8L_9EauEeEVtqHGsKsFsa3KjIxo2Cnir_yM4ImR9F80PzVvNq7Nur-o/s1600-h/hasen14.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; 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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG2UjDB9PjpBrUgbTjxlP5scKbhOx_-9hm_DClv_JJ072EuP46V2t0ecYuYLLHQ21gIgUv1ooTOLa8fKYSpPARuHizCpvlhgrtxOA7Z36HHHkmgnskA5o6TIiEsqMTEgy32OhC8AMD6wI/s1600-h/meskin12.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ct="true" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG2UjDB9PjpBrUgbTjxlP5scKbhOx_-9hm_DClv_JJ072EuP46V2t0ecYuYLLHQ21gIgUv1ooTOLa8fKYSpPARuHizCpvlhgrtxOA7Z36HHHkmgnskA5o6TIiEsqMTEgy32OhC8AMD6wI/s400/meskin12.jpg" width="285" /></a></div><br />
"Mort Meskin was a consummate professional, dedicated to his work. A great talent." -- Jack Kirby </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">"Meskin was fabulous, I couldn't believe the ease with which he drew: strong compositions, loose pencils, yet complete; detail without clutter. I loved his stuff" -- Steve Ditko</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="left" style="text-align: left;">Morton "Mort" Meskin was another of the true professionals of the Golden Age comics, <em>i.e.</em>, the foundation/backbone of an entire industry. Like many others entering comics in the late thirties/forties, Meskin was a scrappy New York kid (Brooklyn-born, in 1916), who grew up reading the pulps, <strong>The Shadow</strong> being a favorite, and scribbling exciting adventures incessantly. After graduating from high school, Meskin attended the Art Students League of New York and the Pratt Institute. In 1938, he started drawing for the Will Eisner/Jerry Iger shop, with Sheena of the Jungle in <strong>Jumbo Comics</strong>.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: black;"></span></div><div style="text-align: left;">Meskin then went on to do work for <strong>MLJ</strong> and <strong>D.C./National</strong>. While at <strong>D.C.</strong>, Mort was given the artistic chores on Vigilante, a back-up feature on Superman's flagship title, <strong>Action Comics</strong>. After showing his proficiency as a story-teller, he was also handed responsibility for Johnny Quick in <strong>More Fun Comics</strong>. Meskin also did work on Starman and Wildcat during this time period. A clean line, kinetic, lithe, athletic figures, artistic experimentation, and solid story structure are what differentiated him from the majority of fellow artists. Meskin has commented that <strong>Citizen Kane</strong> had a positive effect on his storytelling approach, and cinematic techniques in storyboarding appear throughout his output.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">After World War II, Meskin left <strong>D.C.</strong>, and with Jerry Robinson (of <strong>Batman</strong> fame -- creator of the Joker, among other achievements) opened up their own studio. Together they created heroes for <strong>Spark Publications</strong> (Atoman and Golden Lad), <strong>Standard</strong> (Fighting Yank and Black Terror) and horror stories for <strong>Marvel</strong> (working with a young Stan Lee at the time). In 1949, Meskin joined the studio of comics greats Jack Kirby and Joe Simon (creators of Captain America, among a virtual host of other properties), and produced the series <strong>Boys' Ranch</strong> for <strong>Harvey Comics</strong>, and <strong>Black Magic</strong> for <strong>Crestwood Publications</strong>. In 1956, with the resurgence of new heroes and a comic book renaissance, Meskin returned to D.C. and created hundreds of stories, including war, science fiction, horror and romance until the mid-sixties. During this time, he often inked his own work. <strong>Mark Merlin</strong> is noted as a successful feature created and cultivated by Meskin. Again, his clutter-free panels and crisp linework define his artwork during this period. There are reports of issues with nerves and a chaotic relationship with editor Mort Weisenger, but Meskin was prolific and dutily handled every assignment, if not directly celebrated through the choice of high profile characters to draw. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">In 1965, Mort Meskin left the world of comics behind, and became a successful illustrator and art director at one of the large national advertising firms, doing layouts, storyboards and artwork for major consumer ad campaigns. He continued to paint for the rest of his life, and was by all accounts a loving, generous man devoted to volunteerism and providing for his family. He passed away in April of 1995 at the age of 78. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">Sorry these are but covers and not the interior linework. I hope to present more complete stories by artists in the future. Enjoy!</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
Thanks to my brother, Will, who suggested this artist spotlight.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><a name='more'></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7Z0ZLuzTrwwm_XT8VMoTDhg2wMP9NJkOxMEptpceSGQ9g2HwMbgm_YLiP0vSDL7ImyI3H2GBg6ZySSGgdxN4TswFBlNNU9RVL2N4sUVR13ZdFPfl1iS4S5EoNrbgCu187W0-BQ5Z_D3Y/s1600-h/meskin2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ct="true" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7Z0ZLuzTrwwm_XT8VMoTDhg2wMP9NJkOxMEptpceSGQ9g2HwMbgm_YLiP0vSDL7ImyI3H2GBg6ZySSGgdxN4TswFBlNNU9RVL2N4sUVR13ZdFPfl1iS4S5EoNrbgCu187W0-BQ5Z_D3Y/s400/meskin2.jpg" width="262" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCQ3B8b7UJVOe9yRDdZTwvGNJRJgDP99VMjn9SWF73z8X-ScOSrRnR6wZBHgdMnHbXoGmyzqM_sN9qv_dhyH9mnfh2zod_jjptksFGwnNHoD4ppHS0zxHZbp0lly8PxeBphNmwOQQN9CY/s1600-h/meskin14.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ct="true" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCQ3B8b7UJVOe9yRDdZTwvGNJRJgDP99VMjn9SWF73z8X-ScOSrRnR6wZBHgdMnHbXoGmyzqM_sN9qv_dhyH9mnfh2zod_jjptksFGwnNHoD4ppHS0zxHZbp0lly8PxeBphNmwOQQN9CY/s400/meskin14.jpg" width="288" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0U8CrdRqameLaIPahCmmkbFjPAIgmS4A6Qlc7yJyPGA0pfAI6yPdtbSmb9hj_ctH_ZLeecD-tzBU-vkXg35z-V9Ipg5oGifGhmyjRXdfwxR5VKHTvTj5AWd5CjK4kUQAS8CMJDRBWXs4/s1600-h/meskin7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; 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margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ct="true" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgP7ArZum_8wrh08QIPQshOoPyv9tCsHhO-fBavwld5YEiW1E-UHKGA_kFPveJYOCo49Z8L1XERcZCauEu6PC8Rp7WXVnJdUZAaf9ApDZv_8cQSNpBD-fbOq_5pv-Oe2ecpHv4co7EIO6E/s400/meskin16.jpg" width="271" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiueYUO2K4P91HwP-WqNJhZQfBSsE7Fosi3VNMFSmgksQ3iFA9_Y3LqMVezfLKbvMY3kHqTZDNZcppeJxjtUN4-s7NJwCMaI_W5eU4KGvy_0OauBiOgjtL1gLWs_X9IWMDUKJ21EFgBtDA/s1600-h/meskin6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ct="true" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiueYUO2K4P91HwP-WqNJhZQfBSsE7Fosi3VNMFSmgksQ3iFA9_Y3LqMVezfLKbvMY3kHqTZDNZcppeJxjtUN4-s7NJwCMaI_W5eU4KGvy_0OauBiOgjtL1gLWs_X9IWMDUKJ21EFgBtDA/s400/meskin6.jpg" width="272" /></a></div>Ray R.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00816558221155415778noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6346880717655912779.post-49013925018141861052010-02-19T02:25:00.003-05:002010-02-19T02:37:50.533-05:00Jimmy Johnson, Corporate Spokesman<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZnqIhdL21nR0jpQwnS7g3O1Uhcc4X3xQeJBgXCoUHFo34unOstdJpgGHdhLVCFHyn2ASSBzunQaRlWqwaxGgOZQq7JCRPDu-Xt9udWFN5C8fBRw2ouNAd6esD852IE9vh5kLFUZVKV9M/s1600-h/Jimmy+Johnson.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ct="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZnqIhdL21nR0jpQwnS7g3O1Uhcc4X3xQeJBgXCoUHFo34unOstdJpgGHdhLVCFHyn2ASSBzunQaRlWqwaxGgOZQq7JCRPDu-Xt9udWFN5C8fBRw2ouNAd6esD852IE9vh5kLFUZVKV9M/s320/Jimmy+Johnson.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">You've won a national college football championship at the University of Miami, you've won two Superbowls with the Dallas Cowboys, and you've been doing studio work for Fox for god knows how many years. You probably eat in a different high-end steakhouse every night, and keep a bevy of lovely ladies on speed dial. The world is your oyster. You've achieved goals that many people dream about. How do you top it?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I guess by selling boner pills.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
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</div><object height="340" width="450"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/6lCku52Y_YE&hl=en_US&fs=1&"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/6lCku52Y_YE&hl=en_US&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="450" height="340"></embed></object><br />
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Apparently, Bob Dobbs of the Church of the SubGenius lost his Extenze gig. Bob, you'll be missed. What's that? My bad, it's Enzyte. Same difference.<br />
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Now, frankly, a couple of things really bothered me about the commercial. Jimmy, why are you talking to me out on the field about penis size during what looks like a series of quick changes in possession during a football game? The coaches and players look seriously stressed behind you (ladies and gentlemen, your Anytown Generics!), so perhaps our private discussion about your increased girth can wait for a more opportune time. Perhaps on a drive to meet your parents, at the coffeeshop, or on your boat down in the Keys. And you seem a bit defensive that you've done all these incredible things and the only topic of conversation that comes up time after time is whether your own little Jimmy the Johnson is bigger now. I wasn't asking, I swear. I just wanted to get the hell off the field before I get tackled by security. I'm happy for you, and best wishes, but your timing kind of sucks.<br />
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And why would an offer of a special Dinner with Jimmy Johnson be something to look forward to now? Unfortunately, the whole dick size thing is the proverbial elephant in the room conversation-wise, and besides the inherent awkwardness in that I would be expected to come up with a hugely shameful secret of my own, I'm afraid if Jimmy has a couple of drinks in him, he might feel obligated to show off his "personal growth" to me. And some things just can't be unseen, no matter how many times you wash your eyes with bleach.<br />
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Kudos, Extenze. You may not be FDA-approved, and in 2006 you agreed to pay the Orange County, California district attorney’s office $300,000 in civil penalties for unfair business practices and false advertising, because you could not back up your claim that the pills caused users’ penises to grow 27%. You also agreed to cut down on lead content after sick people complained and investigations found that your lead content was beyond the legal limits. You sell snake oil and patent medicine to poor suckers with probable sexual dysfunction and/or deep-seeded insecurities. And you lined up someone who used to have a decent reputation (forget about it now) to take a quick buck in order to establish one of your own. HOW 'BOUT THEM COWBOYS!Ray R.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00816558221155415778noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6346880717655912779.post-47400753090430143292010-02-17T16:59:00.001-05:002010-02-17T17:01:24.544-05:00Percy Jackson & The Lightning Thief -- Movie Review<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjevRnquFU4B1B7xuuD7IThU6r5tCt5M_40lzB0sgCMp9tliI-PpGhB3Hj7JAxHxUvvApA_VNVVa6o74XKHoXQfKlwdg_nULz_Qv3m2ny7QsPr_NqWf4yRax0IocYdht4z7zAmqGY-D2so/s1600-h/percy-jackson-640.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ct="true" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjevRnquFU4B1B7xuuD7IThU6r5tCt5M_40lzB0sgCMp9tliI-PpGhB3Hj7JAxHxUvvApA_VNVVa6o74XKHoXQfKlwdg_nULz_Qv3m2ny7QsPr_NqWf4yRax0IocYdht4z7zAmqGY-D2so/s640/percy-jackson-640.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Richard Riordan, the writer of the series that the Chris Columbus-helmed picture is loosely based on, realized that the best narratives and storylines are those that have already been around for thousands of years. No need to ransack the pop culture detritus of sixties and seventies sitcoms, action figures, board games, and reboots, when you've got a veritable pantheon of familial conflict, supernatural creatures, sex, and mindless violence. They've probably retold Homer's <strong>Odyssey </strong>(which is admittedly pretty kickass) at least a couple of dozen times now. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Still, no matter how good the underlying story, it always comes down to the execution. And <strong>Percy Jackson & The Lightning Thief</strong> flails and misses most of the time. There is the increasingly annoying overreliance on CGI, dialogue which can charitably be called expository, and an underlying thematic structure that just moves from set piece to set piece and finally to predictable ending like a connect-the-dots-puzzle. The performances are hardly noteworthy either: Brandon Jackson plays a hoofed Stepin Fetchit offering sad, urban comic relief, Pierce Brosnan appears constantly drowsy from flu medication, and Joe Pantiliano seems to have cornered the actor's market on New York-accented douche (with a noticeably expanded gut to boot). Is Catherine Keener the middle-aged mom in every single coming-of-age movie being produced now? Uma Thurman chews scenery like a pro. And poor, poor Steve Coogan. Channeling Alice Cooper via Alan Partridge as Hades. I'm not sure if he was trying to convey menace, but it came off as bare-chested embarrassment instead. The two leads, who probably should remain nameless, can't do much with what they're given, and so don't. And <em>ala</em> <strong>Watchmen</strong>, is anybody aware that you don't need to match songs word-for-word with the narrative? <em>I.e</em>., playing "Highway to Hell" driving on the highway to Hades/Hell and playing Lady GaGa's "Poker Face," while walking through a casino? When did music in movies have to be so goddamned literal? </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I was intrigued, though, at the idea of a Camp Crystal Lake for the various offspring of god/human couplings. Considering that there were at most a dozen gods on Mt. Olympus (including oddly, a token black Greek god), and since there were what looked like a couple hundred or so teenage warriors-in-training at summer camp, someone needs to find the gods a hobby besides penetration and impregnation. Ease off the throttle, boys and girls. Sudoku, perhaps? How about a cooking class?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">"My mom was raped and knocked up by Zeus, who literally came in the form of a swan. I now crave breadcrumbs and poop on the lawn incessantly."</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">And I don't even want to think about centaurs. Allegory is pretty creepy when it likely involves horse dicks and ultrasound. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><strong>Percy Jackson</strong> might be worth a rental, depending on how high you are at Blockbuster. And the PG rating might be a little deceptive, as my five year old found a few of the scenes unnecessarily terrifying (thanks for making me feel like a bad parent, MPAA!).</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
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</div>Ray R.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00816558221155415778noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6346880717655912779.post-8581810653640354202010-02-16T15:12:00.001-05:002010-02-16T15:55:17.913-05:00Golden Age Artist Spotlight -- George Evans<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieMXMScgTonRPSReRX-VFfmkXyZ4h0c_WTL0iEMpMl3NQSBEBh-1k8Bgk2XDTL9xTbArUsKxJU23hj3xY_e0LT6VYM2ikptTg7GBcdiwMbR-hHwUVev0q_CK-nMW3oMRoT2lh3H7Fhmp4/s1600-h/evans2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ct="true" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieMXMScgTonRPSReRX-VFfmkXyZ4h0c_WTL0iEMpMl3NQSBEBh-1k8Bgk2XDTL9xTbArUsKxJU23hj3xY_e0LT6VYM2ikptTg7GBcdiwMbR-hHwUVev0q_CK-nMW3oMRoT2lh3H7Fhmp4/s400/evans2.jpg" width="271" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">George Evans (Feb. 5, 1920 - June 22, 2001) is widely recognized as one of the comic field's greatest illustrators, with over a half a century of both comic and comic strip art and stories for almost every major publisher. An aviation buff, his airplane covers are easily recognized, and his proficiency for drawing them led to his showcasing in probably the last great aviation comic ever produed, E.C.'s <strong>Aces High</strong>. </div><a name='more'></a><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Born in Harwood, Pennsylvania, Evans began a lifelong fascination with aviation after being exposed to aviation pulps at the age of 9. At the age of 15, Evans had his first art (and poem) published in an aviation pulp, <strong>Daredevil Aces</strong>, and his career as an illustrator was underway. At the onset of World War II, bad eyesight prevented Evans from enlisting as a pilot, but he worked as an aircraft mechanic in South Carolina, which obviously informed his technically accurate drawing. After the war, he entered the comics field with a staff artist position at <strong>Fiction House</strong>, while there meeting future talents like Frank Frazetta and Al Williamson. At Fiction House, Evans contributed to series like <strong>Wings</strong>, <strong>Jungle Comics</strong>, and <strong>Planet Comics</strong>. From there, he went on to Fawcett, drawing adaptations of <strong>When Worlds Collide</strong> and <strong>Captain Video</strong>. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">But it was at <strong>E.C. Comics</strong>, like many others there, where Evans turned in outstanding work that continues to stand the test of time. He contributed underrated stories and covers to the crime genre books <strong>Crime SuspenStories</strong> and <strong>Shock SuspenStories</strong>, but it was Harvey Kurtzman's war books where Evans found great success (ironically, Evans bridled a bit under Kurtzman's heavily thumbnailed art layouts -- he described himself as "Kurtzman's hand" in doing the "finishing work"). <strong>Frontline Combat</strong> and <strong>Two-Fisted Tales</strong> set the table for <strong>Aces High</strong>, which focused on aerial combat from the days of World War I. If ever there was a book ideally situated to an artist's interests and strengths, <strong>Aces High</strong> was it. Evans drew all of the series' covers (as well as coloring them), and the lead story in each of the books. Unfortunately, when the comic censorship hearings and distributor battles sucked the life out of William B. Gaines, it also drained the man of patience and financial risk-taking to allow the New Direction titles much of a run. Gaines' heart wasn't in comics anymore, so the attention was focused solely on the magazines, <strong>Mad</strong> predominantly. <strong>Aces High</strong> was discontinued after five memorable issues.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Evans would go on to contribute in numerous titles, including Gilberton's <strong>Classics Illustrated</strong> line (adaptations of Joseph Conrad's <strong>Lord Jim</strong>, Shakespeare's <strong>Romeo and Juliet</strong>, and Alexander Dumas' <strong>Three Musketeers</strong>), Dell (<strong>The Frog Men</strong>, among others), and Gold Key. Evans joined other great former E.C. artists in Jim Warren's stable, illustrating stories in <strong>Blazing Combat</strong>, <strong>Eerie</strong> and <strong>Creepy</strong>. He would later go on to D.C. and freelance art in books like <strong>Weird War</strong>, <strong>Weird Western</strong> and <strong>House of Mystery</strong>. Some of his notable covers from that period are available below. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Evans' syndicated strip history might be as impressive as his comic output. He ghosted for George Wunder on <strong>Terry & The Pirates</strong> from the late sixties until the early seventies. In 1980, he took over <strong>Secret Agent Corrigan</strong> from his old Fiction House friend Al Williamson and continued to draw it until 1996. In the later years of his life, Evans revisited his classic aviation drawings with a series of commissioned paintings, like the one provided here:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNGS3S482XKqdOkuiUMxajRSls2O66qxfi8UFKYRRf9FIoopAFMo9QbwnVXw74DJ5S01YAclC1NSJm4GPaaX1vVHbv4aiCPNLKrLxxc0KbPfPWxDqz1UHJxocvYmfhrbnUmGlY2vPGJXM/s1600-h/Evanspaint.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ct="true" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNGS3S482XKqdOkuiUMxajRSls2O66qxfi8UFKYRRf9FIoopAFMo9QbwnVXw74DJ5S01YAclC1NSJm4GPaaX1vVHbv4aiCPNLKrLxxc0KbPfPWxDqz1UHJxocvYmfhrbnUmGlY2vPGJXM/s640/Evanspaint.jpg" width="497" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">By all accounts (and I recommend picking up TwoMorrows' <strong>Comic Book Artist</strong> #17 for further insights), George Evans was a kind, generous, giving man, who went out of his way to help young artists, aviation art and aviation pulp aficionados, and those who wanted more insight into the artist behind the great drawings. He was reportedly a daily fixture in his small Pennsylvania town, walking his dog, and making the rounds, while simultaneously plotting new adventures for his comic strip secret agent. Although he has passed on, his highly proficient and always enthusiastic stories and art continue to draw attention to a genre which has sadly been eclipsed in ubiquitous superhero mediocrity. Evans' high standards and worksmanship are missed.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Enjoy the cover sampling.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhscvOTy6ROw2yKSSfzPR9LX5tgzcWb0QlSvgY2RBQbc7F2XMhV8lEcQK2jsytSJ_54oBTJVTkCvB0o-idC62eUOR-M30ELuAZFB0OA_eS4_EQwwcfhUZH7g0oIltBy2YUu0YDj4fViQ5s/s1600-h/evans10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ct="true" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhscvOTy6ROw2yKSSfzPR9LX5tgzcWb0QlSvgY2RBQbc7F2XMhV8lEcQK2jsytSJ_54oBTJVTkCvB0o-idC62eUOR-M30ELuAZFB0OA_eS4_EQwwcfhUZH7g0oIltBy2YUu0YDj4fViQ5s/s400/evans10.jpg" width="271" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHU-FYbXIaBgdzfJqvngfheW5T3IJMCYL99IGdO4_MMH_X0Xk-aHDz-I0x5GxtCrdC0RuL9KMYjxbf4VpVF379S-nNTrtbFXMFGGYv1I-JM2BQuNKKu1hTYBRWLH9PnScdpPuqTk8l53E/s1600-h/evans11.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ct="true" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHU-FYbXIaBgdzfJqvngfheW5T3IJMCYL99IGdO4_MMH_X0Xk-aHDz-I0x5GxtCrdC0RuL9KMYjxbf4VpVF379S-nNTrtbFXMFGGYv1I-JM2BQuNKKu1hTYBRWLH9PnScdpPuqTk8l53E/s400/evans11.jpg" width="267" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJzbJmmudjvDiUKPeUQoyE53kttNMV9rjtU7DXbzMRGy5LYB0OMTZEwAtf42iiuva7mYbrUZM80F20vQlxOn0g-vaTO3alyoyFqXWYOvjldvMWMmHztUHUvlFlEcjfmPCp7vzyCFUTZfA/s1600-h/evans5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ct="true" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJzbJmmudjvDiUKPeUQoyE53kttNMV9rjtU7DXbzMRGy5LYB0OMTZEwAtf42iiuva7mYbrUZM80F20vQlxOn0g-vaTO3alyoyFqXWYOvjldvMWMmHztUHUvlFlEcjfmPCp7vzyCFUTZfA/s400/evans5.jpg" width="273" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7WJLZhMlyim9OcwhYQEElxsJi2jXapk6R7ts9G5c7JPdW1XOP_OKAPz823twRNSheHukPqO5Gwasf9BOLR9Pa0DvDaojJds5a3f2mt6_A0eBzXfRIMQyXYwMOPktHhv8zYAzAe0q3Oq4/s1600-h/evans9.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ct="true" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7WJLZhMlyim9OcwhYQEElxsJi2jXapk6R7ts9G5c7JPdW1XOP_OKAPz823twRNSheHukPqO5Gwasf9BOLR9Pa0DvDaojJds5a3f2mt6_A0eBzXfRIMQyXYwMOPktHhv8zYAzAe0q3Oq4/s400/evans9.jpg" width="271" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9vaD03mQkWYOrd7DWQk7Kuipnr-kY4hyyCc1qNUX52Myo7Q2n5MjZpCLrAVHEW1m73cZCwHm07U0Dre_XcnV2vEKbaOSPZT8og1ZROEkzdvXfdcI3oT85k07Ic0PbcTcbp6A8nfvbT1M/s1600-h/evans3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; 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margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ct="true" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHV3fOagOnyQcEA2Zd7xj2hUGYKs9QGuGkCzezeC9S2dW9gXz_Fe4q71s0bf7Uryix8LdnyesLXBrAUF9UfK03xIwAQFUZxlOO8HL26yQpotaoe5dzAInxHtHG9YEj09Cy7i5m0x6cEVs/s400/evans1.jpg" width="267" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhitF5GBOtqOpA4Wy80a9DI2bbG1MrI0C3qgBwfYxLiXZhft4ALHGhn9awXSDpuuhXweihR2mwkf2vqv2Jo6ovl4ym2OVtGvYRGfQq_fdEEUc78O1DoUZisTeGN2xho8vw8SJwBBgtpXCw/s1600-h/evans15.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ct="true" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhitF5GBOtqOpA4Wy80a9DI2bbG1MrI0C3qgBwfYxLiXZhft4ALHGhn9awXSDpuuhXweihR2mwkf2vqv2Jo6ovl4ym2OVtGvYRGfQq_fdEEUc78O1DoUZisTeGN2xho8vw8SJwBBgtpXCw/s400/evans15.jpg" width="267" /></a></div>Ray R.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00816558221155415778noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6346880717655912779.post-88317353646522304992010-02-03T16:19:00.002-05:002010-02-04T02:50:44.411-05:00Man Rant: This Week's Exercise -- Snuggling<div align="center"><object height="344" width="475"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/6TRsgx97pZw&hl=en_US&fs=1&"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/6TRsgx97pZw&hl=en_US&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="475" height="344"></embed></object></div><br />
Welcome to another edition of the wonderful world of emasculation! I'll be your guide, as we check our nuts at the door, strap on an apron, and just talk about how we've been feeling about things. Chamomile tea and ginger snaps will be served, so don't be shy. You're among friends. <br />
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First order of business on the agenda. Snuggling. The act of intimacy without actually being intimate. Sharing space without the moving parts. Cuddling. Spooning. Post-coital warmth redistribution. Refractory tenderness. Coyote breakfast (i.e., where you'll bite your arm off before you'll wake up the other person and actually have to talk to them). <br />
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Now before this devolves into accusations of misogyny and chauvinism, let it be known that there are some tangible enjoyable advantages to the experience. There is the very obvious benefit of warmth, particularly in a temperate or colder climate, in a house or apartment with inefficient heating (old windows, lack of insulation, frequent cold snaps, etc.). The utility of a warm body on a cold night cannot be understated, particularly if you don't have a dead tauntaun you can crawl into. There are also the long-term practicalities of discussing the varied and sundry aspects of life and love while in a supremely vulnerable position of slightly pajama-ed or straight-up starkers. The mere act of naked vulnerability lends credence and solidity to any affirmative statement of support or love, because let's face it, there's a very limited palate of body language you can throw out there when you're pinned into the mattress. The fight or flight mechanism is under an arm-bar submission hold. In the absence of actual sleep, you either feign sleep (keep your faux-snoring consistent and light, though, to deter suspicion), or you make a good faith effort to ponder the romantic imponderable, and hope any unachievable or patently false pillow-talk wasn't recorded (by electronic or mental lockbox means) for regurgitation at the next available inopportune instance. So believe what you say and say what you believe when in the upright and locked snuggle position. Because a betrayal of snuggle conversation is a betrayal of a sacred trust. That shit will haunt you the entire relationship, for as long as the little time it still lasts. <br />
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That's not to say that the snuggle option doesn't have its blatant abusers, though. There are some distinct acts of snuggle malfeasance that deserve recognition and analysis. There is the bedding hog, of course. That guy/gal who agglutinates every square inch of every sheet, blanket, comforter, and pillow on the bed like a black hole of linen. Which then leads into the tug-of-war throughout the night, where neither party gets full body coverage, and thus frost sets in on the lower extremities.<br />
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And this directly impacts another continual complaint. Feet colder than a well-digger's ass. My girl, hell, all my once and future lovers, have had feet that felt like the surface of Pluto. There's nothing more shocking to the system than settling into bed, nodding off to semi-sleep, and then having Little Miss Cold Miser plant both frigid footpads on the thighs, top of the feet, or on numerous occasions, my flubby ass-cheeks. There's probably no real chemical reaction to speak of, but it certainly resembles from a sensory standpoint to be what would happen if you poured liquid nitrogen into a roaring fireplace. Good god, woman, have mercy.<br />
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That's momentary pain, for the most part, at least. Perhaps worse than the serial bed sheet consolidater is the space shrinker. Currently, my fine lady likes to squeeze me into a strip of real estate on one end of the bed the width of a couple of saltines. Resembling nothing less than a cuddling bulldozer, she pushes me into a Tempur-Pedic OK Corral and forces me to make a last stand for bed autonomy. But I have simply learned that I cannot win against her nocturnal Manifest Destiny, and have come to accept that spatially, for all intents and purposes, my king-size bed is a twin bed with delusions of grandeur.<br />
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It takes a wise person to know they've already been defeated before the game starts. Snuggling is a no-win proposition. If you want the happy and frequent sexytimes, then cuddling is a necessary post-game news conference you have to show up for, answer questions, and face the music. Enjoy it whenever possible. But give no quarter on the side battles involving territoriality, bedding theft and cold fusion of the limbs. Once a snuggling precedent has been set, the die is cast. There's no going back.<br />
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Thus endeth the tea party.<br />
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Ray R.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00816558221155415778noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6346880717655912779.post-19996472377824587572010-02-02T16:53:00.003-05:002010-02-04T03:01:17.107-05:00Lost: Season 6 Premiere Tonight -- WALLLLLTTTTTTT! GIVE ME BACK MY SON!<div align="center"><object height="425" width="500"><param name="allowfullscreen" value="true" /><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always" /><param name="movie" value="http://www.theonion.com/content/themes/common/assets/onn_embed/embedded_player.swf?image=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.theonion.com%2Fcontent%2Ffiles%2Fimages%2FLOST_FANS_ARTICLE_1_13_10.jpg&videoid=100222&title=Final%20Season%20Of%20'Lost'%20Promises%20To%20Make%20Fans%20More%20Annoying%20Than%20Ever" /><param name="wmode" value="transparent" /><embed src="http://www.theonion.com/content/themes/common/assets/onn_embed/embedded_player.swf"type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowScriptAccess="always" allowFullScreen="true" wmode="transparent" width="500" height="425"flashvars="image=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.theonion.com%2Fcontent%2Ffiles%2Fimages%2FLOST_FANS_ARTICLE_1_13_10.jpg&videoid=100222&title=Final%20Season%20Of%20'Lost'%20Promises%20To%20Make%20Fans%20More%20Annoying%20Than%20Ever"></embed></object></div><br />
WARNING: If you haven't caught up with <b>Lost</b> through the fifth season finale, you might want to skip this discussion. Spoilers this way be.<br />
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Unlike apparently most of the television viewing universe, I've only been a Lost fan for about a month now. Thanks to the good folks at <b>Netflix</b> streaming, and owing to my obvious lack of any semblance of a consistent social life (Divorced and Proud! Say it Loud! No, I'm not a loser! I call it solitude not loneliness! Freebird!), I was able to knock out all five previous seasons in about three weeks. It's easy to say after the fact, but I don't think I could have enjoyed it any other way, particularly with all the hiatuses (hiati?), months between finales and season premieres, writer's strike, etc. That makes some seasons seem a little choppy (or alternatively meandering) when viewed in big blocks. (Season 3 in particular feels rushed and truncated, even though there's a lot of meaningful action and piece-moving going on). But viewing it en masse lends one to see some of the bigger picture narrative themes running through the show. Some more obvious than other. And it will be incredibly interesting seeing how those themes carry all the way to the end, whether they get resolved, or not get resolved in satisfactory ways, and of course, the last thirty seconds or so of the final episode of the series (Will it be ambiguous and without closure ala <b>The Sopranos </b>fade-to-black? Will it be a "what was shall always be" <b>Battlestar Galactica </b>warm-and-fuzzy ending? Will Jack wake up in a bed next to a CGI-rendered Suzanne Pleshette?) <br />
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Of course, the most basic conflict running through <b>Lost</b> is the competing concepts of faith (represented by Locke) versus reason (represented by Jack). The elements of faith, as represented by the admonitions declaring "destiny," the healing power of the island, the mystical and mythological components of the temple and four-footed statue (including Jacob, the man in black, and perhaps immortal Richard Alpert), as well as the continuing presence of ghosts and smoke monsters, face off against the structured reality of science (more accurately, science fiction) with time travel, electromagnetic charge-releasing clock timers, medical experiments, sonic disruptors, donkey wheels causing spacial and temporal displacement, hydrogen bombs, and escaped polar bears. Put it simply, it's the Dharma Initiative (science) battling with The Others (faith) over control of the island. Where the future for the passengers of Flight 815 break down depends on whether they put their stock in either faith or science, Locke or Jack. Neither of them has been particularly successful as of late at providing either answers or security to the rest of the survivors and both have questioned whether they were on the right path in Season Five. <br />
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So with the hydrogen bomb going off and potentially setting the clock back to before Desmond decided not to press the button in the hatch, we may see what happens when the passengers land in Los Angeles as originally planned. The key is whether they remember their time on the island or not. Particularly those passengers who died the first time around. And what happens with those who already left prior to the reset? Walt? Aaron? Do they get poofed out of existence, or just go back to their assigned seat and amniotic fluid, respectively? Since the actor who played Walt has definitely reached puberty since 2004, I'm wondering how they find an out, story-wise or actor-wise. And how will it tie in with the overarching narrative of faith versus reason? Will Locke still be paralyzed (or dead if Jacob didn't "heal" him after his father tossed him out an 8th floor window)? Will Not-Locke still exist? What about Jack's father? Still dead? Will his casket go missing? Obviously there will be a schism between what can and did occur scientifically and what happens more or less magically due to the island reset. But, obviously, life cannot just go on as if nothing happened when and if they land at LAX in September, 2004. Whether Jack settles on faith, and Locke on science, or neither, could be the deciding factor in how the whole shebang shakes out. <br />
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I'm rooting for Vincent the dog to be the key, though. <br />
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(Any and all thematic and guessing questions welcome in the comments! I'd love to discuss.)Ray R.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00816558221155415778noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6346880717655912779.post-13992504794173058952010-02-02T12:39:00.001-05:002010-02-02T12:39:25.934-05:00You Stay Classy, Japan!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhc77sFAeJ5kZ-CtYITIpDC1ouCUZlEIcxVZWo_gkl2mxUZAaA4aGG1IIRLzlGSCv3Vsiw5cgbobDky7NhMTZCDbKhmz15y59OxRoCE8x1W-G2Bx__5ROGNXHxgYwivO9KVaOorue35Hq4/s1600-h/boob-pads.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="252" kt="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhc77sFAeJ5kZ-CtYITIpDC1ouCUZlEIcxVZWo_gkl2mxUZAaA4aGG1IIRLzlGSCv3Vsiw5cgbobDky7NhMTZCDbKhmz15y59OxRoCE8x1W-G2Bx__5ROGNXHxgYwivO9KVaOorue35Hq4/s400/boob-pads.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Why even attempt to find a real girl when "enhanced" mouse pads, painted pillows, and computer-generated babes do the trick? Kink's fun, I get it, but there's a pretty well-lit line to cross into "sociopath who probably needs therapy" and it seems that there's a fair amount of this stuff coming from the Land of the Rising Sun. </div>Ray R.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00816558221155415778noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6346880717655912779.post-48680638077842219282010-02-01T16:39:00.001-05:002010-02-01T16:39:59.633-05:00Golden Age Artist Spotlight -- John Stanley<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheeBVx4kjOnpsO1ufPWmQ8GYdchSXnIgioW4hbqfrArGzhHvGVUjkxXxMt4XN3rYnoqiPFVKufJ22RBktpvFVuXQLRVCqVESMNPTZlHinWFB_cYFBnYLry6KOn-G4SxAYwztVOhQ3p8r8/s1600-h/stanley3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" kt="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheeBVx4kjOnpsO1ufPWmQ8GYdchSXnIgioW4hbqfrArGzhHvGVUjkxXxMt4XN3rYnoqiPFVKufJ22RBktpvFVuXQLRVCqVESMNPTZlHinWFB_cYFBnYLry6KOn-G4SxAYwztVOhQ3p8r8/s400/stanley3.jpg" width="282" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Like Carl Barks, John Stanley might not have known the breadth and width of his influence on potentially millions of boys and girls, as well as those who appreciate a perfectly scripted and story-boarded ten-page story (with finished art by Irving Tripp in many cases). Stanley created wonderful stories involving Little Lulu (and Tubby) from 1945 to 1959. Frequently overlooked, but never forgotten, John Stanley leaves a legacy of hundreds of stories and pictures that continue to entertain and amuse.</div><a name='more'></a><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">A native of the New York Hudson Valley, Stanley attended art school in NYC. Afterward he began working at Max Fleischer's studio as an opaquer and eventually in-betweening. He left in 1935 to work for Hal Horne contributing artwork to the then just starting Mickey Mouse Magazine. From there he went to work on Disney merchandise art for Kay Kamen, while selling gag cartoons to various magazines (including the The New Yorker). In this period (1935-37), Stanley attended classes in lithography at the Art Students League of New York. Stanley then started working as a freelancer out of the east coast office of Western Publishing under editor Oskar Lebeck. In this period Stanley did stories for a range of characters, including Bugs Bunny, Raggedy Ann and Andy, Woody Woodpecker and Andy Panda, along with his own creations such as Peterkin Pottle and Jigg & Mooch. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">But it was Little Lulu that would more or less define his career. Stanley had one meeting with Lulu creator Marjorie Henderson Buell (known professionally as Marge) before doing the first issue to discuss the background of the character. Stanley drew the initial Lulu Four Color one shots but once a regular series began in 1948, Irving Tripp assumed the job of translating Stanley's sketch scripts into finished art. But Stanley continued to do the covers, several of which are presented below. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Also like Carl Barks, Stanley inherited someone else's character then built a universe around them. Under Marge, Little Lulu was a solitary star, operating in single gag panels in The Saturday Evening Post. Presumably based on Stanley's former residence in Peekskill, N.Y., Stanley instead created a whole town of foils, adversaries and allies for Lulu. Tubby, Iggy, Annie, Alvin, The Spider (Tubby's detective alter ego), Mr. and Mrs. Moppet, Truant Officer McNabbem, Witch Hazel and Little Itch, and many more. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I love Stanley stories for two simple reasons: structure and characterization. Each story had a delineated beginning, middle and end. I.e., Lulu would encounter a problem or issue, attempt to resolve it or alternatively avoid it, and prior to a nifty and often witty resolution, all hell would generally break loose. Wordplay, slapstick, satire, morality tale, and mystery were all incorporated in various ways. But in the end, Stanley's kids talked like kids. The mannerisms and reactions of the children to each other and their situations were remarkably true-to-life, inasmuch a comic strip will allow them to be. In particular, Stanley illuminated gender differences in humorous ways. The boys had their "no girls allowed" club and thumbed their noses at the girls with impunity, but Lulu generally gave them their comeuppance in a pretty humiliating and public way. To Stanley's boys, girls like Little Lulu could be momentarily tricked or defeated, but they were also mysterious, unpredictable and dangerous. Pretty much like real life. Dark Horse has produced an 18 volume set containing <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Little-Lulu-My-Dinner-v/dp/1593073186">John Stanley's stories</a>, and they're very well done.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Drawn & Quarterly is currently producing excellent hard-cover editions of John Stanley's non-Lulu stories, including Nancy & Sluggo, Melvin the Monster and Thirteen "Going on Eighteen." A list of D & Q volumes within the John Stanley Library is available <a href="http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_noss?url=search-alias%3Dstripbooks&field-keywords=John+Stanley+library">here</a>. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Enjoy the covers!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
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</div>Ray R.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00816558221155415778noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6346880717655912779.post-9765630303023279992010-01-28T17:09:00.008-05:002010-01-28T22:21:09.160-05:00Man Rant - This Week's Exercise - Memory and Gender<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">ME: So, honey, what do you feel like eating?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">SHE: Why don't you decide? Be decisive for once. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">ME: Hmmm. How about that Chinese place on Route 1?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">SHE: How could you even suggest that place? Do you remember how after I ordered the appetizer, the waiter took away my soup, which I had hardly touched, because we were discussing whether to drive to New England or not the following weekend. And the shrimp lo mein only had six shrimps in it. And I recall that you were a little emotionally distant that night. That place has all kinds of negative memories associated with it.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">ME: (Trying to recall lunch from earlier in the day, and failing). Right, I forgot. In the mood for Mexican? </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">SHE: You choose. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">ME: Okay, we're going to Rio Bravo. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">SHE: (Stares). The same place you got liquored up on margaritas and told me you wanted some "space." Are you going to tell me you want "space" tonight, too? What shoes should I wear to a break-up? </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">ME: Jesus. I don't remember that AT ALL. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">SHE: Of course not. Your feelings weren't smashed against the rocks. I also caught you watching a football game on one of the monitors when you thought I wasn't looking. I bet you didn't know that. Sorry to bring it up now, but do you realize that wasn't very respectful to me?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">ME: Honey, I'm sorry. (Brain in crisis mode. Trying to remember romantic dinner. Any romantic dinner. Chuck anything out of the cerebellum that doesn't apply. Bye-bye, mental file cabinet of job-necessary training and entire junior year of college. So long, remnants of Japanese language skills. What's this file? Red Sox-Yankees game in the Bronx in 1983 where Dewey Evans hit a fourth-inning dinger which ended up being the difference-maker in a final score of 3-2? Refile and keep. That could be important some day.) </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">SHE: You've gotten better since then. Still a long ways to go, though. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">ME: (DING! Slot machine hits three cherries.) How about Armando's?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">SHE: Oh, that might be nice. We hardly ever go to places like that now. You had two glasses of that Tuscan chianti, and I had a couple sips of the sherry. Do you think they still have the cheese plate appetizer we shared? I remember you said that you were pretty sure that you think you thought that you might be in love with me. You held my hand and looked into my eyes, and at that point I knew that we would be together forever. And the creme brulee. Baked just right, with crinkly caramelized skin, golden brown, and light on the almond extract. A perfect evening from start to finish. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">ME: Yeah, I remember lucking out and finding good parking. The matre 'd was kind of a dick, though.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">SHE: Okay. Glad you finally picked something. Let's go. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">ME: Umm. I can't remember where I left my keys..... </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Cue:<embed allowscriptaccess="always" flashvars="auto_play=false&clip_pid=zgcjjfqsmb&e=&id=1_11c8a454_0c72_11df_b810_0019b9e56dac&skin_pid=wfxswdnlkf" height="36" id="1_11c8a454_0c72_11df_b810_0019b9e56dac" name="1_11c8a454_0c72_11df_b810_0019b9e56dac" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer" src="http://media.entertonement.com/embed/OpenEntPlayer.swf" style="height: 36px; width: 299px;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="299" wmode="transparent"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
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<img alt="Sad Trombone sound bite" border="0" height="0" src="http://www.entertonement.com/widgets/img/clip/zgcjjfqsmb/1/1_11c8a454_0c72_11df_b810_0019b9e56dac/blank.gif" style="float: right; height: 0px; margin: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; visibility: hidden; width: 0px;" width="0" /></div>Ray R.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00816558221155415778noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6346880717655912779.post-64858073334328020832010-01-26T17:58:00.004-05:002010-02-04T02:56:45.879-05:00Adventures in Parenting: The Nuclear Family<div align="right" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizCIBTkWrHsrkuXo6-ocUovFoI2uMRTmWZaWrHiw2kYXsMvirUT0FkY4MYO82PRsGPBVEOE0ToYFrHZEEPMVw35oqFzJKfoV0AOFjbqvqCR5ytgwtVp_qAO7DYkT2KqP9uoJs0mLwWlWQ/s1600-h/mushroom+cloud.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" mt="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizCIBTkWrHsrkuXo6-ocUovFoI2uMRTmWZaWrHiw2kYXsMvirUT0FkY4MYO82PRsGPBVEOE0ToYFrHZEEPMVw35oqFzJKfoV0AOFjbqvqCR5ytgwtVp_qAO7DYkT2KqP9uoJs0mLwWlWQ/s320/mushroom+cloud.jpg" width="233" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">You never know where your next "teachable moment" is going to come along. My ten-year old daughter and I have been occasionally playing the PC version of the turn-based simulation game <strong>Civilization IV</strong>, although never head-to-head against each other. For those unfamiliar with the <strong>Civilization</strong> series, a player starts off in 2500 B.C. or so, as a classic society like the Romans, Greeks, Egyptians, Chinese, or Indians, and "grow" the civilization by discovering advances like the alphabet, iron-working, drama, etc.; building Wonders of the World like the Pyramids, Stonehenge, Great Wall; exploring new lands; setting up trade routes; and establishing new cities on continents near and far. The game can be won in several different ways, including conquering all the other empires on the planet, <strong>Risk</strong>-style, winning a diplomatic victory in the United Nations, achieving a specific cultural score on or before the clock runs out in the year 2050, or sending a rocket out into space with the people and supplies to colonize a planet. It's labor-intensive mouse-clicking trying to keep all your cities growing, protected from opposing armies, and ensuring that your populations are happy (which avoids rebellion and increases your GDP). It's a time-burner and pretty engrossing from the get-go.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Of course, the flying-by-the-seat-of-my-pants parental part of me is proud that a ten year old girl (or boy, for that matter) is taking an interest in a game with such complexity, history, civics, and inherent responsibility. But it's the last aspect or lack thereof that gave me pause last Sunday morning. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">While helping the five year old boy get dressed, I happened to chance a glance over at the computer screen where my daughter was playing the game. I saw a series of mushroom clouds erupt across the screen. Apparently, my kid found a cheat code, god knows where on-line, and was hammering the poor bronze-working Egyptian civilization with ICBMs; just mercilessly raining nuclear death from above without warning. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"> Now, I was a teenager during the eighties, when the Russians were the Evil Empire and the Cold War was in full icebox mode. Nuclear armageddon was the 800 megaton gorilla in the room. Consequently, popular culture was obsessed with mutually assured destruction. <strong>WarGames</strong>, <strong>Threads</strong>, <strong>The Day After</strong>, <strong>The Terminator</strong>, the <strong>Mad Max</strong> films, <strong>Testament</strong>, <strong>One Night Stand</strong>, and <strong>World War III</strong> in cinema and TV, <strong>Watchmen</strong>, <strong>The</strong> <strong>Postman</strong>, <strong>Red Storm Rising</strong>, <strong>Doomsday Plus Twelve</strong>, <strong>Akira</strong>, and <strong>When the Wind Blows</strong>, in comics and literature, video games like <strong>Red Alert</strong> and <strong>Missile Command</strong>, and songs like Nena's "<strong>99 Luftballons</strong>," Sting's "<strong>Russians</strong>," and this badly dated gem from Frankie Goes to Hollywood:</div><br />
<object height="375" width="475"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/SXWVpcypf0w&hl=en_US&fs=1&"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/SXWVpcypf0w&hl=en_US&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="475" height="375"></embed></object><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Paranoia involving death by immediate disintegration or slow, mutant-inducing radiation is a powerful molding force on a teenage brain. Still, by the end of the decade, the Berlin Wall fell, there was a McDonald's in Moscow, and somehow I'd end up with a full-blooded Russian wife in the '90s (and a scorched earth divorce from the same in the '00s).</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">But, alas, the damage was done. My liberal sensibilities are forever tied to nuclear disarmament, "peace in our time," and conventional war strategems. In <strong>Civilization IV</strong>, I usually go heavy on ground troops and only attack when attacked, or more likely, if I'm terribly bored with the current political map or one of the other civilizations' leaders is annoying the shit out of me. My belligerence has limits though, because after the United Nations civilization advance comes along, I finagle my way into the U.N. Secretary-General chair, and bully through a "no-nukes" resolution. Nukes are still too scary for me to conceptualize usage of, even in a video game, particularly when I ostensibly need to drop them on other civilizations' cities indiscriminately.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">My kid, on the other hand, has no such reservations. Bombs away. I try to explain to her that pets, grandparents and little children get decimated even in videogame nuclear attacks, but the hard line on armageddon is a little soft without a similar pop culture apocalyptic message immersion that I bathed in throughout in the eighties. We just aren't making our kids paranoid enough about instant death these days. </div>Ray R.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00816558221155415778noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6346880717655912779.post-6084349095050894192010-01-26T11:27:00.001-05:002010-01-26T11:28:44.704-05:00Golden Age Artist Spotlight -- Lou Fine<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisq5z4kCtk8gTvYiNmKcM9c4CTi5UGg4Au2LIjz0Utlzl9DrgkppHsf55GgFpTXYneVzpB-vTWUvh4MRdemyjki5Gf9VQN8TZusHVneZZTsmpV1Uofon84HFZ81jBOlpImsFKV4WzvCLo/s1600-h/fine20.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" mt="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisq5z4kCtk8gTvYiNmKcM9c4CTi5UGg4Au2LIjz0Utlzl9DrgkppHsf55GgFpTXYneVzpB-vTWUvh4MRdemyjki5Gf9VQN8TZusHVneZZTsmpV1Uofon84HFZ81jBOlpImsFKV4WzvCLo/s400/fine20.jpg" width="287" /></a><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Louis Kenneth Fine was born in New York. He studied at the Grand Central Art School and Pratt Institute. He was partially crippled by childhood polio. Among his major influences were Dean Cornwell, J.C. Leyendecker, and Heinrich Kley.<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Lou Fine joined the Eisner-Iger comic shop in 1938 and soon was drawing for the Fiction House and Fox lines on such features as 'Wilton of the West', 'The Count of Monte Cristo', and 'The Flame'. Within a short time he became one of their best artists. He drew parts of the 'Jumbo' and 'Sheena' comics, and he also produced several adventure comics. Between 1939 and 1943, he worked for the Arnold's Quality Comics group. He produced 'Black Condor', 'Stormy Foster' and several issues of 'Uncle Sam'. From early on, Fine's specialty was covers, and he turned out dozens of them.<br />
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Lou Fine left the comic book industry in 1944 and moved into drawing Sunday advertising strips for the funnies. On his advertising work, he cooperated extensively with Don Komisarow. Together, they created characters like 'Charlie McCarthy' and 'Mr. Coffee Nerves' for Chase and Sanborn Coffee, and 'Sam Spade' for Wildroot Cream Oil. They also made 'The Thropp Family' for Liberty magazine, using the combined signature of Donlou (scripts by Lawrence Lariar). Next, Fine drew two newspaper strips, 'Adam Ames', and 'Peter Scratch', about a tough private eye who lived with his mother. Fine died in 1971 and according to Will Eisner, he was one of the greatest draftsmen ever.<br />
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Fine's excellent technique and abilities are readily apparent from a sampling of his covers (as provided below). Fine was an “artist’s artist”. Superior drawing skills coupled with an uncanny sense of composition, Fine’s work continues to be admired and collected by golden age enthusiasts. He had the unique ability to bring motion to the drawn page. His figures are lithe and dynamic, his backgrounds carefully rendered, and overall, there's very little wasted space.<br />
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Enjoy the covers!<br />
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</div>Ray R.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00816558221155415778noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6346880717655912779.post-70088358834454257252010-01-22T15:18:00.001-05:002010-01-22T15:19:32.736-05:00Questionable Cover Art #4: Didn't You Die in Vietnam?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSVSIwhc8vqS_9rkQyx0TsroDy1x6OvCxumgXyZsvCHaTXlzl5faqwJtrQQLahfSeHk_mmM_yv2LrNIJaeL7-E_LpSTzuYjG0xKrv0YpAT4Zex1kBrQlsCEhgNNuMzZXf0VHrnMWyv3sE/s1600-h/beaver.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" mt="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSVSIwhc8vqS_9rkQyx0TsroDy1x6OvCxumgXyZsvCHaTXlzl5faqwJtrQQLahfSeHk_mmM_yv2LrNIJaeL7-E_LpSTzuYjG0xKrv0YpAT4Zex1kBrQlsCEhgNNuMzZXf0VHrnMWyv3sE/s400/beaver.jpg" width="283" /></a><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Just too many immature sex jokes to choose from here. Might as well pass a few of them out as one-liners.....<br />
</div><ul><li>"So, is it a Beaver Wagon or a Pussy Wagon?"</li>
<li><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">"Camping out with Beaver ... worst female masturbation euphemism ever?"<br />
</div><br />
</li>
<li><br />
"A beaver, a pussy, and a wally. A menagerie a trois?"<br />
</li>
<li><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">"Worst episode of <strong>Taxicab Confessions</strong> ever?"<br />
</div><br />
<br />
</li>
</ul>You too can play at home. Ask a twelve year old boy for help.Ray R.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00816558221155415778noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6346880717655912779.post-11952280376044759022010-01-22T12:30:00.001-05:002010-01-22T12:41:53.422-05:00NFL Playoffs -- Conference Finals Edition<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><br />
<object height="325" width="400"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/1BKILbsBtvI&hl=en_US&fs=1&"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/1BKILbsBtvI&hl=en_US&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="400" height="325"></embed></object><br />
<br />
Zach Galianakis doing the running man, a jaguar-skin coat, and Popeye's chicken washed down with Jaegermeister? It's kind of crazy but it just might work. <br />
<br />
Seeing a homemade Saints Superbowl video, plus this chick, <br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3GBrheaugUTMiiDNZTCeOJ2u_a-vuS6CnOwvFfMRgtpb_K0Sw_PlrczwpkBNI5kweVNcGB-uoUfna3uNKVT6_Y_sMWaXQBumRRShcYg9zhi-Crv_JT5Lx4iTtMZBEfC45RWK6ty3Tb6Y/s1600-h/saintsfan.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" mt="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3GBrheaugUTMiiDNZTCeOJ2u_a-vuS6CnOwvFfMRgtpb_K0Sw_PlrczwpkBNI5kweVNcGB-uoUfna3uNKVT6_Y_sMWaXQBumRRShcYg9zhi-Crv_JT5Lx4iTtMZBEfC45RWK6ty3Tb6Y/s320/saintsfan.jpg" width="264" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">makes me think that there may be some sort of weird dirtbag karma going on for the Saints. I believe in dirtbag karma, particularly when there's ample sideboob. <br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I'm picking the Saints over the Vikings. 38-31.<br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I was sort of "meh" when the Colts won their last Superbowl, and barely recall it, even though it was only four years ago (or was it three?). I think I was finalizing my divorce at that point, so I probably watched the game in a dark room, popping the occasional anti-depressant. But I really don't like the Colts this year for some reason. Maybe it's residual irritation with all the Peyton Manning commercials, maybe it's the piggy, overly earnest Indianapolis fan base, as exemplified by this little midwestern choad:<br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><object height="325" width="400"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/Xahi0bqz2Mo&hl=en_US&fs=1&"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/Xahi0bqz2Mo&hl=en_US&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="400" height="325"></embed></object><br />
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</div>Maybe it's the Patriots rivalry, maybe it's the Mayflower truck in the middle of the night leaving Baltimore. In any case, I just don't like them, at all. That leaves me rooting for the Jets by default. Good enough.<br />
<br />
Jets 20, Colts 17.<br />
<br />
Enjoy the games this weekend.Ray R.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00816558221155415778noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6346880717655912779.post-24849047904168937442010-01-21T16:47:00.003-05:002010-01-21T16:53:30.763-05:00Do Not Pass Go, Do Not Collect $200<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWQTMO5LTaaoiUu_2FlwkYGv78zQZNOwF9Z_jzJMsE0CyCGv4fLp5xsC4BN4un5XMP7DU5zZL9lRfb6Uj2bmdf9fKEgnu_s3aLaSETLGMDFLPMYGNd8Fq3jJ3EjpwRx5RjIznnQkDjG4g/s1600-h/monopolyboard.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ps="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWQTMO5LTaaoiUu_2FlwkYGv78zQZNOwF9Z_jzJMsE0CyCGv4fLp5xsC4BN4un5XMP7DU5zZL9lRfb6Uj2bmdf9fKEgnu_s3aLaSETLGMDFLPMYGNd8Fq3jJ3EjpwRx5RjIznnQkDjG4g/s400/monopolyboard.jpg" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Interesting to see the Democratic Party continue to pile on Martha Coakley as the primary factor in losing the special Senatorial election up in Massachusetts, and thereby losing the filibuster-proof majority in the U.S. Senate. Sure, she was a bad candidate and didn't campaign well, but there might be a bigger picture here. A larger message about the party in power, and the way Washington governs. First things first, though, the Republicans who are crowing like it's an affirmation of the GOP way of life and a portent for the huge upcoming Republican revolution, well, stop patting each other on the ass, and just shut the hell up and sit down. Noone likes you. Bragging now is like congratulating yourself for not getting wood on your wedding night. You can rationalize it all you want, but all you did was "not lose." Show some dignity and decorum, for once. Please.<br />
</div><a name='more'></a><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">But for all the retarded line-dancing the Republicans are doing, the active state of denial the Democrats are in could be worse. Speaking as a card-carrying member of the rapidly shrinking middle class, I can firmly and solemnly aver that the Democrats do not "get it." At all. I like Obama. I earnestly and enthusiastically voted for Obama, and most likely will again, particularly if the GOP puts up the white trash princess from Alaska as opposition. But I'm genuinely disappointed, slightly disinterested, and bordering on disillusioned at this point. President Obama swept into office on a wave of promise and hope, and unfortunately or fortunately based on your perspective, those were intrinsically connected to a firm set of expectations. Few of which have been met. Yes, he inherited a shit storm from the Bush crime syndicate, yes, he's only been in a year, and yes, he has accomplished a bunch of positive policy measures and initiatives that have more or less flown under the radar. But when you elect a rock star, you don't expect the first quarter of the concert to be new experimental material and "B" sides. You expect the executive office equivalent of "Stairway to Heaven" or "Free Bird." If anything, it seems like the best music is being played for private corporate parties. And that stings and burns. At least with Bush, I had diminished expectations to the point of being happy if I wasn't outraged once or twice a week. I don't know what I was expecting with Obama, but it wasn't "well, any watered-down health care legislation is better than none. There's a hiccup there in Boston. Oops, not enough time. Let's pivot back to the economy."<br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">If the Democrats don't understand that the gamemap is changing, by factors on a macroeconomic level, they're obviously not paying attention. Let's look at some basic economic facts (all obtained from non-biased sources):<br />
</div><ul><li class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"> The median household income in this country is flat as a pancake. We've actually lost earning power over the last decade. The average median earnings for a man in this country is only about $41,000. The average median income for a woman is shockingly only about $31,500. That's pre-tax, of course.</li>
<li class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">1 in 9 families can't make minimum payments on their credit cards.</li>
<li class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">120,000 families are filing for bankruptcy every month.</li>
<li class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Families have lost over $5 trillion from pensions and savings over the last five years.</li>
<li class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">There are 40 million Americans living in poverty.</li>
<li class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">A quarter of this country is either unemployed, underemployed, or working multiple part-time jobs without benefits. </li>
</ul><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">This is why independents are abandoning Democratic candidates in droves, and why more people of both political parties are going independent in the first place. We're in full-on crisis mode. So if you're in power, and the situation isn't changing one iota, why should anyone vote for you? Everyone has a story to tell in the middle class. I have a girlfriend who isn't my girlfriend because she can't find a job after a year, despite a master's degree, a good skill set, and a willingness to move anywhere on the Eastern seaboard. So she's living with her parents while in her late twenties because she doesn't have a choice. I have two friends in law who got recently laid off, after years and years of big firm experience, who now do low pay commissioned sales and are waiting for temp work. I have relatives who can't afford Christmas and others who pass up going to the doctor for the co-pays. I know friends who have debt that matches or exceeds their annual earnings, and with the credit card companies going for the jugular before the new rules start in February with APRs around 30% and increased fees, they'll be paying that until long past retirement age, if they don't default first. And those are relatively benign. But they're representative of the disconnect between those in power and those who aren't. Frankly, where's the end-game?<br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The Republicans sure aren't the answer. These are the ass-clowns who want to privatize Social Security. Take money earned over a lifetime, and invest it all in companies that are exporting America's manufacturing and service jobs overseas. There's the Republican cure for the middle class. Eliminate it by effectively funding corporations to whack both the job and the quality of life after the job. That'll leave us with the poor and the ultra-rich, like a banana republic in South America. Less riff-raff at the Nordstrom's, though. It's no wonder why GM or Ford can't compete. Korean and Japanese car companies have governments who pay for the expenses of their middle class workers, including healthcare, child care and their retirement accounts. And the Chinese simply don't pay their manufacturing workers a comparable wage. On a scale of 1-10, the average American worker gets paid the level of a 3 or a 4 (it used to be 5-6 after World War II and in the sixties, adjusted for inflation). The average Chinese worker is a 0 or 1. <br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Still, it's pretty clear that at this point we can't reanimate the middle class manufacturing sector back in the United States. After World War II, the U.S. manufacturing sector's only main competitor was Canada. Europe and Asia were in ruins. Now, we compete with Europe, Japan, Korea, China, India, and half of the developing world in manufacturing. Our labor costs are intrinsically too high, without government subsidization of the legacy costs of the middle class, as other countries, from Japan to Germany, have accomplished. But that apparently stinks too much like socialism. So shut up and eat your dollar value meal.<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">So Democrats in power, listen up. Here are a few immediate suggestions for improving your relations with the middle class.<br />
</div><ul><li class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">We're spending two and a half billion dollars a DAY in Iraq. Most of us stepped into the ballot boxes in November thinking we'd be out of that shithole within sixteen months or so. Cut off the war profiteers, contractors, and other war-based federal teat-milkers. Take that two and a half billion dollars a day and put it into college grants, urgent medical care centers, job training, and Internet/broadband expansion and installation, and other middle class necessities. Alternatively, lower the federal gas tax, satellite tax, and other hidden "deaths by a thousand cuts."</li>
<li class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Freeze the maximum interest rate allowable by credit card companies at 7 or 8 points over prime. Period. The credit card companies don't like it? Fuck them. Their decisions to hand out credit cards to college students without incomes, family pets, and other undesirables shouldn't be given a free pass years after the default rates exploded. These parasites are killing the middle class, suppressing spending, and siphoning off billions of dollars that would otherwise funnel back into the overall economy. </li>
<li class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Regulate to make 30 year fixed mortgage rates available in all cases. Available, not mandatory. But leaving the only option to home ownership to spinning the roulette wheel of variable adjustable rates is a recipe for destruction. If you can't qualify, you don't qualify. </li>
<li class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Regulate a moratorium on annual non-housing state and local personal property taxes, i.e., lock them in and/or eliminate them over time. Particularly car taxes and taxes on other middle class necessities. Not yachts. We pay enough taxes, and we already pay taxes up-front upon initial purchase. Subsidize state and county budgets until the shortfalls get eliminated over the next few years. </li>
</ul><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">That's a start, it's tangible, and it's immediately effective. Yes, this costs money. Call it a bailout or a TARP fund for the middle class. And it's absolutely necessary. <br />
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</div>Ray R.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00816558221155415778noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6346880717655912779.post-42968162587251506842010-01-20T15:08:00.001-05:002010-01-20T15:12:31.712-05:00Man Rant -- This Week's Exercise -- Insomnia<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjw_DJv6Yp76IFxBErWMgv_oX_HnaqkUpBSivQddOYy_jhP8sYyMPgZenDlNLupNolRP4EKNqw5RvDhZIiQjU84cPxeX0AR5WxPKToPqIH4RNJxy4vOzJFIcwE3Wff11FP-3lw3MRs4tC8/s1600-h/insomnia.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" mt="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjw_DJv6Yp76IFxBErWMgv_oX_HnaqkUpBSivQddOYy_jhP8sYyMPgZenDlNLupNolRP4EKNqw5RvDhZIiQjU84cPxeX0AR5WxPKToPqIH4RNJxy4vOzJFIcwE3Wff11FP-3lw3MRs4tC8/s320/insomnia.jpg" /></a><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">INT: BEDROOM, MYTOWN, U.S.A.<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">10:00 PM -- Alright, I've got my gym clothes ready for tomorrow. Starting up the new exercise regimen. Big plans. Going to get into work a little early. Maybe 8:00 AM or so. Should probably plan to get to bed by midnight at the latest. That's a good seven to eight hours of sleep, and that's more than enough. Think I'll hop on-line, check out a few of the usual suspects, play a little on-line poker, and just veg and decompress before bedtime.<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">11:00 PM -- Hmmm...should I pop in a DVD movie? Double-click on a documentary off of Netflix streaming? Check out a show on Hulu? Start that book I've been putting off? Naw, not enough time. Need to sleep by midnight. <br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">12:00 AM -- Okay, I'm lying in bed. Relaxed. No distractions. Need to sleep. I am tired after all. A good night of sleep will do me good.<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">12:32 AM -- Dammit, I'm wide awake. Maybe I'll just check my Gmail, the Live Newsfeed on Facebook, a few newsites, and then log off. Some of the people on the West Coast are just updating their blogs and status entries.<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">12:45 AM -- Turn off computer. Lie in bed. Glance occasionally at clock. <br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">1:15 AM -- Decide that maybe a glass of water would be helpful. Head downstairs, through living room, into kitchen. Grab a glass of water. Pause in front of the TV, and figure that watching the Daily Show and/or Sportscenter will decompress me even more and finally send me into the arms of the Sandman. <br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">2:00 AM -- Sportscenter -- Los Angeles deep into second showing of same previous night's highlights. Infomercials in full blast mode. There are at least six different ways to blast out my abs in ninety days or less for the low low price of $120 a DVD set (payable in 3 installments of $39.90!). I wonder if I went "full insanity" for sixty days if I could sleep better. Self-loathing and body image issues meeting for product discussion summit in back of brain, but rudely interrupted by skeptical, money-conscious teabagger common sense elements. Turn off TV and head back up stairs. Getting into work at 8:00 AM no longer seeming like that attractive an option. <br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">2:35 AM -- I don't want to turn lights on, so I'll just read on the toilet. Kill two birds with one stone. Knock out a chapter with my flannel sweats at my ankles, even though there's no poop at the end of the reading rainbow. No birds, no proverbial stone. Now slightly more awake than ever. Maybe I should lie down and read. Turn lights on. Furtively glance at clock. It's mocking me now.<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">3:03 AM -- Re-read same paragraph three times. Switch books. Screw the non-fiction history. Go simpler. Maybe a magazine. Perhaps a graphic novel of sorts. Hmmm...... there we go, something indie and autobiographical. Maybe a recounting of one's first sexual experience, rendered with appropriate angst in black-and-white and hand-lettering, with homoerotic subtext and ominous religious overtones. Looks like there's too many to choose from. Choice requires brain activity. We want to be gearing down from that. Four hours before needing to wake up. Five if you go for regular start time. Turn lights off and try again. <br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">3:28 AM -- The clock hates me. Look at it. Glowing green and racing forward in a sprint. That minute was like twenty seconds at most. Okay, personal vow time. I refuse to look at it anymore. Seeing how late it is just creates more anxiety, and anxiety is keeping me awake. Vicious circle becomes vicious parallelogram. Roll over and put pillow over head.<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">3:52 AM -- Do people like me? Why must love be so difficult? How will I know when I'm really happy? How will I screw it up? Am I a good parent? Do the Red Sox need a new closer? Why am I asking myself rhetorical questions at almost 4 in the morning? I ignored the clock for as long as I could, but it's just a clock. It has no power over me. I stare at you now in defiance.<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">4:12 AM -- Hmm.....maybe I can just pull an all-nighter like I used to do all the time in college. No biggie. I used to look down the barrel of sleeplessness on a regular basis, plus during that time make up an entire's semester worth of reading, drink a twelve-pack, and eat a half-dozen donuts while banging my girlfriend. Piece of cake. The body doesn't really need sleep. Sleep is for the weak. Fuck the night. The night is my bitch. Maybe I'll start a computer game of Civilization or Risk, just for shits and giggles. Lights back on. <br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">4:53 AM -- What in god's name was I thinking? I need to get at least a couple of hours of rest or I'm going to be a basket case. Remember that all-nighters were devastating to the body, starting with breath that could curl toenails. Greasy hair, dizziness, head nods, involuntary leg twitches. Basically, the appearance of a meth head, but with a less sunny disposition. Pass. I guess I could go in to work a little bit later. Try to sneak by the boss. Better switch from computer Risk to computer Mahjongg. Ah, those tiles are sooo hypnotic.<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">5:09 AM -- Fall asleep with glasses on face, lights on and computer screensaver in full effect. A picture says a thousand words. In this case, every sentence would include the word "pathetic."<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">7:30 AM -- First buzzing of alarm clock. You've got to be fucking kidding me. Zombiefied corpse apparently hits snooze; no memory of same.<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">7:36 AM -- Second buzzing of alarm clock. Someone must die. The hell with this. Alarm gets switched off.<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">9:27 AM -- Awake in panic. Late already. Considerably late. Do the Japanese game show version of trying to get ready for work. Attempt to brush teeth with razor. Socks may or may not match. Brain weighs close to 328 pounds.<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">10:00 PM -- Let's try this again, I've got my gym clothes ready for tomorrow. Starting up the new exercise regimen. Big plans. Going to get into work a little early. Maybe 8:00 AM or so. Should probably plan to get to bed by midnight at the latest. That's a good seven to eight hours of sleep, and that's more than enough. Think I'll hop on-line, check out a few of the usual suspects, play a little on-line poker, and just veg and decompress before bedtime.<br />
</div> Ray R.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00816558221155415778noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6346880717655912779.post-56339036750649842132010-01-19T12:31:00.001-05:002010-01-19T12:34:45.928-05:00Golden Age Artist Spotlight -- Bernard Baily<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUsY0aoCRA9xL3vcfo75jPSoKGrm8hAsaQIQ2ITr-du_GKOFE2GurVU4A4kYtF2JTy0nYiTG5bYKRnqXf4hqa4FH-IjBmUgHLi7LGd4YobtULdH2j9FqbTaJkFnE1HxxsGJcPnfDpYwPo/s1600-h/baily9.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ps="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUsY0aoCRA9xL3vcfo75jPSoKGrm8hAsaQIQ2ITr-du_GKOFE2GurVU4A4kYtF2JTy0nYiTG5bYKRnqXf4hqa4FH-IjBmUgHLi7LGd4YobtULdH2j9FqbTaJkFnE1HxxsGJcPnfDpYwPo/s400/baily9.jpg" /></a><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Bernard Baily co-created both The Spectre and Hourman, as well as creating some of the most bizarre and creepy covers ever. Baily began his comics career under S.M. "Jerry" Iger, who was editor of <b>Wow, What a Magazine!</b>, one of the very first American comic books that reprinted black-and-white newspaper comic strips in color and adding occasional new material as well. For <strong>DC Comics</strong> precursor <strong>National Comics</strong>, Baily co-created and drew the adventure feature "Tex Thomson" in <strong>Action Comics</strong> #1 (March 1938). Most of us know <strong>Action Comics</strong> #1 for the first appearance of another caped hero. In <strong>More Fun Comics</strong> #52 (Feb. 1940), Baily and writer Jerry Siegel, Superman's co-creator, introduced the future DC's violent spirit of vengeance, the Spectre. The afterlife alter ego of murdered police detective Jim Corrigan, the character would become of the longest-enduring comic-book creations, revived during the mid-1950s to 1960s Silver Age of Comic Books and continuing into 21st century. Baily as well co-created the frequently revived DC superhero Hourman (dubbed Hour-Man in his earliest appearances), with writer Ken Fitch, in <strong>Adventure Comics</strong> #48 (April 1940). <br />
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But it might be his publishing career where Baily affected the future of comic books the most. His associates and the artists he gave their first start are a virtual who's-who of comics. In 1943, Baily founded the publishing company <strong>Baily Publications</strong> and, with artist Mac Raboy, the comics packager <strong>Bernard Baily Studio</strong>. Among the fledgling artists gaining a foothold in the industry at Baily's studio were Gil Kane, Carmine Infantino, and Frank Frazetta, who at 16 assisted the established artist John Giunta there. Other personnel included Dan Barry, Dick Briefer, Manny Stallman, and Nina Albright, one of a handful of Golden Age women comic-book artists. <br />
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His horror comics in the fifties, a representative sampling provided below, were truly disturbing (particularly those for Key Publications, including the titles <strong>Mister Mystery</strong>, <strong>Weird Chills</strong>, <strong>Weird Mysteries</strong>, and <strong>Weird Tales of the Future</strong> (where some of Basil Wolverton's best work was also published)). During the fifties, Baily also worked for <strong>Fawcett</strong>, <strong>D.C.</strong>, <strong>St. John Publications</strong> and <strong>Atlas/Marvel</strong>. In addition to comics, he also wrote and drew a syndicated comic strip (<strong>Gilda Gay</strong>), contributed to <strong>Cracked</strong>, and teamed with Jack Schiff to produce one-page public service announcements about subjects like bike safety, United Nations Day, and good manners.<br />
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He passed away in 1996 at the age of 1979. His last work was the eight-page "His Brother's Keeper", written by Jack Oleck, in DC's <strong>House of Mystery</strong> #279 (April 1980). Baily was truly one of the Golden Age greats, and his covers showcase his gift for imagery and imagination. <br />
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Enjoy!<br />
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</div>Ray R.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00816558221155415778noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6346880717655912779.post-41657921988079774742010-01-15T17:05:00.001-05:002010-01-15T17:06:16.705-05:00Compulsory Performance Review -- Cinematic Edition -- Big Fan<object width="400" height="340"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/x-i42Mrw3no&hl=en_US&fs=1&"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/x-i42Mrw3no&hl=en_US&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="400" height="340"></embed></object><br />
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What's the difference between "passion" and "obsession"? Between "devoted fan" and "addiction"? <b>Big Fan</b> takes an introspective look into the self-delusional nature of those who claim to be the former, but weave scarily into the latter. It stars Patton Oswalt, who performs excellently as Paul Aufiero, a mid-thirties parking lot attendant who still lives with his mom in Staten Island, drives her car, and spends large parts of his monotonous day scripting smack-talk for a local New York area sports call-in show. His call-ins are anonymous performance art, and provide the only catharsis and real achievement in his life, although Aufiero seems fine with that. He can't even afford to go to the games, but tailgates in the parking lot anyway. His universe more or less implodes when a chance spotting of his Giants linebacker hero leads into a violent beating, and his loyalty to his team is placed in direct opposition to his family's wishes and his own dignity. When his anonymity (and brother's lawsuit against the player) gets exposed by his nemesis, Philadelphia Phil, on the call-in show, Paul decides to respond with appropriate rage and retribution. <br />
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Directed by Robert Siegel, who also wrote <b>The Wrestler</b>, the movie is light on sentimentalism and on portraying Aufiero as a hapless, sympathetic victim. Aufiero never focuses on the violence that was done to him by the Giants player, because his devotion to the team would somehow be in question, if he acted contrary to the best interests of the team. Instead, he focuses his rage on the slights of some unknown asshole on the radio. This projection and acting-out allows him to process his feelings (and manifestations) of impotence, rage, and alienation, without actually changing any of his limited life options in response. The last twenty minutes or so of the movie wallow in the dark, vicious, and often homophobic nature of regional sports rivalries, where rites of manhood get passed along on a barstool in a sports bar, profanely, loudly, and full of free-form bravado. I wish I could say that I didn't grow up in an environment similar to that (albeit on the high school football level), but I can't. <br />
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Considering that my last rental movie review on this blog was <b>Anvil: The Story of Anvil</b>, it's interesting how they evoke similar feelings of uncomfortableness for their main characters. You want to shake them by the collar, and say "get your shit together," but they are set on certain paths, and really don't define themselves by typical societal standards, to everyone around them's head-shaking disapproval. <b>Big Fan </b>is interesting from a sociological viewpoint almost as much as an entertainment one. Good performances, minimalist directing, subdued lighting and cinematography, and a story-line that avoids easy payoffs and happy-ending sentimentality -- it's an above average rental or Netflix streaming download.Ray R.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00816558221155415778noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6346880717655912779.post-56264971830686271742010-01-15T13:27:00.000-05:002010-01-15T13:27:28.774-05:00Questionable Cover Art #3: Whole Lotta Love<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgez_3d1Z_7y-6-l_7qfYWa1w9badCkg0Dfe5kEKORJb0u0CjBASESBpJlPLH3byJS5J0pHwHSl6GYIUWb5DqJ-ZXBIBoYsbsjuFG9g0F8VtxsYMtqxMk17dVNgUcfX_ZSUOZ6QQBpGDOk/s1600-h/lotta.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ps="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgez_3d1Z_7y-6-l_7qfYWa1w9badCkg0Dfe5kEKORJb0u0CjBASESBpJlPLH3byJS5J0pHwHSl6GYIUWb5DqJ-ZXBIBoYsbsjuFG9g0F8VtxsYMtqxMk17dVNgUcfX_ZSUOZ6QQBpGDOk/s640/lotta.jpg" /></a><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Little Dot and Richie Rich are the worst kind of enablers. You have a friend, with an obvious obesity problem, and even worse impulse control issues. And how do you celebrate her birthday? By assisting her in eating her pain away, probably towards premature death. I mean I can understand giving a grossly overweight fat person a freshly caught forty-pound tuna, in this case weirdly wrapped with a pink ribbon and summarily deposited on a presumably dirty floor. By all indications, it still needs to be scaled, gutted, filleted, and cooked. That should burn off a few calories, or at least stave off the feeding frenzy for about a half hour or so whilst amid food preparation activities.<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">But I would expect that the fish will simply rot away in a deep freezer, or be thrown in a dumpster once the party ends, because why would you waste time with omega 5 fatty acids, when there's sweet, sweet pies as tall as a small child. Why even give fruit when you also give a ridiculous gravity-defying Jenga sandwich that could feed the entire Teamsters organization? The jar of olives I assume was given in an ironical fashion, i.e., garnish your mammoth roast pig with a toothpick and a pimento, lardass. That's just really, really cruel. <br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">If there's any justice, Lotta, at the end of her days, after having losing most of her left foot to diabetes and becoming completely blind in one eye, will realize that her friends really weren't friends at all. They were laughing at her, not with her. Her gluttony as performance art was applauded by many, but at what cost to her dignity? A shame spiral of eating, where she ate because she was disgusted with herself, and thereafter became more disgusted with herself, which led to more eating.... As she rides off on her heavenly Rascal, to that great Vegas buffet in the sky, I can only hope she spits out a blood curse on that obscenely rich bastard and his obsessive-compulsive friend. <br />
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</div>Ray R.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00816558221155415778noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6346880717655912779.post-67525066634967913472010-01-14T17:11:00.000-05:002010-01-14T17:11:51.318-05:00Golden Age Artist Spotlight -- Walt Kelly<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYK8ka1bnZM4J4haTAVrOqnLHdQbjrbLSJKwHYFz1AVVeEh2bbRrryo-Q8krZzZKBLzGpEo31Ml47mAiDr1HhsoCJIxMDraxfB_nNmKhkuLOQ2pzDo11QXuEv3gtVnEad4Yk4kE5V-9JA/s1600-h/kelly2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ps="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYK8ka1bnZM4J4haTAVrOqnLHdQbjrbLSJKwHYFz1AVVeEh2bbRrryo-Q8krZzZKBLzGpEo31Ml47mAiDr1HhsoCJIxMDraxfB_nNmKhkuLOQ2pzDo11QXuEv3gtVnEad4Yk4kE5V-9JA/s400/kelly2.jpg" /></a><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">"We have met the enemy and he is us."<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Through the internationally recognized comic strip/political and social satire of <b>Pogo</b>, Walt Kelly is arguably one of the greatest and most influential cartoonists in the history of the craft. Kelly combined masterful line and brush-work (learned at the "mouse factory", Disney) with fluent and highly amusing story-telling acted out by an endearing cast of "nature's screechers". He borrowed from various dialectical sources and his own fertile imagination to invent a unique and charming backwoods-patois, heavy on the nonsense, to fit his cartoon swampland. <strong>Pogo</strong> spoke truth to power when few media outlets would, and for that Kelly is accordingly venerated as an American master.<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">But unlike the vast majority of comic strip artists, who came to comic books after success and recognition had already been attained, and through their syndicates provided reams of reprint material which filled comics like <b>Magic</b>, <b>Ace</b>, <b>Sparkler</b>, and others (and later ghosted original comic book material as well), Walt Kelly developed both his abilities as a storyteller, and his famous opossum creation, in Dell funny animal and fantasy comics. This early work is often overlooked, but its simplicity, entertainment value, and craftsmanship merit a second (and third, fourth and fifth) look. According to wikipedia:<br />
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</div><blockquote> Kelly began a series of comic books based on fairy tales and nursery rhymes along with annuals celebrating Christmas and Easter for <b>Dell Comics</b>. Kelly seems to have written or co-written much of the material he drew for the comics; his unique touches are easily discernible. He also produced a series of stories based on the <b>Our Gang </b>film series, provided covers for <b>Walt Disney's Comics and Stories</b>, illustrated the aforementioned adaptations of two Disney animated features, drew stories featuring Raggedy Ann and Andy and Uncle Wiggily, wrote and drew a lengthy series of comic books promoting a bread company and featuring a character called "<b>Peter Wheat</b>", and did a series of pantomime (i.e. without dialogue) two-page stories featuring <b>Roald Dahl's Gremlins </b>for <b>Walt Disney's Comics and Stories </b>#34-41. ... So highly regarded was his work that Dell editor Oskar Lebeck in the introduction to <b>Fairy Tale Parade </b>#1 spoke of him as "the artist who drew all the wonderful pictures in this book"... <br />
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This period saw the creation of Kelly's most famous character, Pogo, who first saw print in 1943 in Dell's <b>Animal Comics</b>. The initial stories, probably influenced by Joel Chandler Harris' <b>Uncle Remus </b>stories, pitted a boy named <b>Bumbazine</b> against wily <b>Albert the Alligator</b>, with <b>Pogo Possum </b>in a supporting role. Albert eventually supplanted Bumbazine for the lead role, and Pogo supplanted Albert, with the sole human character- whom Kelly joked was less believable being 'merely human'- disappearing from the series altogether. Some cartoon historians have speculated that the removal of the only human (a black one) was done to allow the creation of Kelly's ideal of a Southland with no black or white - just critters.<br />
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Pogo was almost unrecognizable in his initial appearance, resembling a real possum more closely than in his classic form. He gradually assumed a rounder and more appealing shape and construction, much like <b>Mickey Mouse's</b>, including a black nose that he would retain until the eve of his transition to the comics page in 1948.<br />
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Kelly's work with Dell continued well into the successful run of the newspaper strip in the early fifties, ending after 16 issues of <b>Pogo Possum</b> (each with all new material) in a dispute over the republication of Kelly's early Pogo and Albert stories in a special comic book called <b>The Pogo Parade</b>. Having grown tremendously as an artist and writer, Kelly no longer wished to see his earlier work in print.<br />
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Not sure I necessarily agree with the last statement, but since Kelly passed away in 1973, the point is essentially moot. But in the last decade or so, Kelly's <b>Animal Comics</b>, as well as his other fantasy, <b>Our Gang</b> and <b>Disney</b> work, has experienced a variety of reprint attempts, including the elusive <b>New York Star </b>strips (the Star folded up operations less than six months after Kelly started <b>Pogo</b> as a daily). I'm currently reading various Kelly stories in Art Spiegelman and Francoise Mouly's <strong>TOON Treasury of Classic Childrens Comics</strong> (an interview about this work is available <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=STSzcbmUdoQ">here</a>). In February 2007 it was announced that <b>Fantagraphics Books </b>would begin publication of <b>The Complete Pogo</b>, a projected 12-volume series collecting the complete chronological run of daily and Sunday strips, to be overseen by Kelly aficionado Jeff Smith. The first volume in the series was scheduled to appear in October 2007, but delays, reportedly resulting from the difficulty in locating early Sunday strips in complete form, have pushed back its release until September 28, 2010. As the quality of Fantagraphics' <b>Peanuts</b> series has been consistently excellent, I look forward to collecting the Pogo books as well. I do hold out hope that a company like <b>Fantagraphics</b> or <b>Dark Horse</b> obtains the rights to Kelly's scattered and sundry other comic book works, and publishes those as a series or set of slipcase editions. They are worth revisiting, particularly as a testament to Kelly's growth as both artist and storyteller. <br />
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Tip of the hat to CBR's "Slam Bradley," who suggested this spotlight. Thanks, Tim.<br />
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Enjoy the covers. <br />
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</div>Ray R.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00816558221155415778noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6346880717655912779.post-29919708406944833322010-01-08T18:47:00.003-05:002010-01-08T18:59:07.454-05:00Best Fails of 2009<object type="application/x-shockwave-flash" data="http://www.collegehumor.com/moogaloop/moogaloop.swf?clip_id=1927354&fullscreen=1" width="400" height="360" ><param name="allowfullscreen" value="true"/><param name="wmode" value="transparent"/><param name="allowScriptAccess" value="always"/><param name="movie" quality="best" value="http://www.collegehumor.com/moogaloop/moogaloop.swf?clip_id=1927354&fullscreen=1"/><embed src="http://www.collegehumor.com/moogaloop/moogaloop.swf?clip_id=1927354&fullscreen=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="400" height="360" allowScriptAccess="always"></embed></object><div style="padding:5px 0; text-align:center; width:400px;"></div><br />
Via College Humor....<br />
<br />
This is the kind of "Best of" that I can support every year. One that documents and immortalizes the potential thinning of the herd, <i>i.e</i>., Darwinism in action. <br />
<br />
I do hope when I die, though, that it's spectacularly stupid enough and captured on video, so that my children get a large monetary grand prize handed out by Tom Bergeron. (Don't scrimp on the headstone, kids!)Ray R.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00816558221155415778noreply@blogger.com0