Shut Up and Enjoy the Ozzy!

I May Be Just a Writer, But This Is Where I Draw The Line

2012-02-10T16:23:00.000-08:00

A couple of folks have asked me about the Gary Friedrich matter and my take on it. So here it is.

As most everyone reading this knows, you will not find too many folks more adamant about intellectual property rights than me. And in the strictest sense, Marvel may have a legal case, given work for hire contracts.

But personally, do I think they should be trying to get 17K out of him for Ghost Rider related prints and such at cons? No. First of all, if they ARE going to do such things, they'd damned well better do it equally to every creator at a con who in any way uses the image of one of their properties. And they're not going to do that, because there would be a mutiny among their artists, some of whom make a fair chunk of change from selling artwork and sketches at cons. Secondly, while Gary may not own the rights to the character, I don't think anyone is disputing that he played a part in GR's creation, and that should allow him a certain leeway, even if it's an informal one.

Let me put it this way. There were something like a dozen or more artists involved in the making of Common Grounds #1-6. Those guys are more than welcome to do pics of said characters at conventions if requested, for profit or gratis, as far as Troy Hickman is concerned, and I hope that the good folks at Top Cow feel the same.

Now, yeah, if those pics were being done in the nude (the character, not the guy drawing it), or someone were claiming they created the character when they didn't, or they were creating new stories with the character rather than a pin-up, that might be a different thing. But that doesn't seem to be the case here.

I sat about twenty feet across from Gary at a con not long ago, and he sure didn't seem to me to be doing anything that would bring any harm, financially or otherwise, to the publisher. He just seemed to be doing the same thing that I do at conventions: associating myself with something I created, and hopefully getting more folks interested in the characters.

Either way, I think this is going to be a PR fiasco for the folks involved...

T'pau, right in the kisser!

2011-11-09T13:53:00.000-08:00

Hmmm...

2011-10-12T08:24:00.001-07:00

If "I was born this way" is a valid rationalization for stuff, why do the cops keep arresting me when I leave the house naked and poop in the middle of a crowd of strangers?

Hey, It Makes Just As Much Sense...

2011-10-11T07:48:00.001-07:00

Searing Intestinal Cramps of the Dead

2010-10-21T16:11:00.000-07:00

So the other night Gabriel and I watched the new Romero zombie flick, Survival of the Dead. What's my reaction? Well, I've rarely envied the decaying creatures in the film when their heads explode from a shotgun blast, but this outing just may have done it. I wasn't a particular fan of Land of the Dead, though it had a moment or two, and Diary of the Dead was no opus, though it added a new element or two to the tried and true formula. But either of those films were Night of the Magnificently Dead Ambersons compared to this. The DVD starts with George Romero telling us that this particular bit of dead cinema is going to have elements of comedy as well as horror. Speaking as someone who writes stuff for a living, I can vouch for the fact that this usually means "hey, some of this is intentionally funny, so feel free to laugh when you get to those obvious spots." Right there I assumed there might be trouble, as such things should come out of the material naturally, not as a caveat from the director before the festivities.

The plot revolves around a place called Plum Island, Delaware, where two feuding families, the O'Flynns and the Muldoons, are having a disagreement over whether the dead should be shot through the head and dispatched, or kept around like family heirlooms. No, I'm not kidding. Just imagine the guys on American Pickers saying "Hey, how much for Grampa's animated corpse?" As if the premise weren't enough, these two clans are not just Irish; they're Irishy-Irish, with Irish trimming. When they're not hunting zombies (or making up a place for them at the dinner table), they've GOT to be out keeping kids from their Lucky Charms. The accents flow thicker than Brock Lesnar's neck. No, I'm not sure why this island in Delaware is some sort of Land that Time Forgot for the fighting Irish, any more that I'm sure George Romero has ever even been to Delaware. But that's what we're given, so go with it.

And there's gore, of course, as that's what we're expecting, but it's a fairly goofy grade of gore for a Romero flick (at one point a head gets blown off, and the hat comes back down and lands on the bloody stump of the neck). But what it DOESN'T have is much of a plot, beyond the fact that one of the feuding families wants to try to teach the undead to eat non-human meat (in this case a horse).

And therein lies part of the problem. Generally speaking, zombie movies have a tradition of the zombie menace/virus/curse/whatever spreading through humans. And there's a good reason for that. Think about it; if it could be spread by other animals, mosquitoes and other insects would convert everyone on earth in a matter of days. Or, even if it were confined to mammals, think about all the mice, rats, etc. out there. There's NOWHERE you could be safe for any length of time. No, it's been restricted to homo sapiens for a pretty darn good reason, plot-wise.

But if zombies are suddenly willing to treat my friend Flicka as their next Happy Meal, there's a pretty good chance that animals could carry the dead-factor, too. And even if they couldn't, the logic of it makes no real sense. Why would they have to TEACH a zombie to eat a horse rather than a human? The hunger is either there or its not.

While I'm at it, by the way, if zombies are NOT interested in eating animals, why aren't the streets overrun with our furry friends? In Indiana, for example, we have to have an active hunting season to keep the deer population manageable, and even then we're constantly hitting the overflow with our cars. So if suddenly most of the population are zombies and no longer interested in Bambi, why aren't there deer hopping around in the background of every scene?

And criminy, George, I know directors have themes that are central to their work, but you've beaten the soldier and Cletus horse until even your zombies can't resurrect him. We get it: you don't like rednecks or the military. We've heard it in every undead flick you've ever made. By your reckoning, the earth's only salvation is going to be college professors living on the coasts. Oh, wait, they won't have the prerequisite guns; I hope they know how to take out a zombie with a Meerschaum pipe and a copy of the New Republic.

Anyway, if you're looking for a top-notch zombie epic, you'll probably be better off waiting for AMC's adaptation of The Walking Dead, starting on Halloween. I'm pretty sure it won't have dialog like Sarge "Nicotine" Crockett saying "In an us versus them world, pretty soon no one remembers who started the war in the first place, and the fighting becomes all about these stupid flags." Tune in for the next installment, "Moral Equivalency of the Dead!"

The Prodigal Son

2010-06-03T15:14:00.001-07:00

So I'm back from Canada. A few random thoughts about the trip:

* With each trip, leaving Lea becomes harder and harder. I can't begin to describe what it's like to spend every day of your life with someone (on the phone), then be in their presence for two glorious weeks...ONLY to have to leave them again. I'd venture that we're as close to husband and wife as anyone can be, given our circumstances, and yet 90% of the time we can't so much as hold hands. I think there must be a bolgia in Hell that's a lot like this.

* On the flight home, this snooty British guy sitting next to me kept giving me dirty looks (I think it was because I was eating my tinfoil-wrapped cheese sandwich in his presence). I would've felt bad if he hadn't spent at least forty-five minutes out of the flight WITH HIS FINGER BURIED IN HIS RIGHT NOSTRIL UP TO THE @#$% ELBOW! I'm not kidding; this guy quite literally did not remove his finger from his nose through an episode of The Office and half of a National Geographic special. The next time someone tries to tell me how refined the Brits are in comparison to we ugly Americans, I'm going to play this charming memory in my uncouth colonial head. Oh, and he ate it.

* My back is severely messed up, and I think it's as a result of (A) being crammed for six hours into a tiny airline seat (about 18" wide, unlike my body), and (B) driving a compact car for a total of about twenty hours as we drove to see Lea's family. I don't mind the experience of flying at all, but the experience of being sardined into a plane doesn't thrill me, and I've had it with long stopovers at the airport (I don't mind an hour or so, but when I end up having to sleep there, it's not my idea of a good time).

* I continue to have a hate/hate relationship with public transportation. Damn it all to hell! Most of the time I'm at Lea's, I have to take the bus, and I'd much rather have my back messed up by a rental car than to have to endure the Gehenna that IS the Vancouver bus system. No, as such systems go, it's probably not a bad one at all. But that's rather like saying "As a means of splaying my urethra open, a filet knife ain't so bad!" I always hear folks telling me "I LOVE the public transportation where I live! It's efficient and clean!" OK, tell you what: if you have a system that (A) allows you not to have to be pressed up against total strangers, (B) has enough seats that no one has to stand up, (C) can always get you within a block of where you're going, and (D) has a new bus coming to every stop every five minutes instead of fifteen or thirty, THEN we'll talk. Until then, keep your stinking public transportation paws off me, you damned dirty commuter!

I just don't think human beings were meant to be treated like cargo, or like animals, and that's how I feel on the bus. If there's one thing I love about America (and there are thousands), it's that we're a car culture with the freedom to go where and when we want, according to OUR schedule, not the city's. And for you greenies out there, if you can make that happen for me just as easily with solar or electric powered cars (and hopefully you realize how electricity is generated), then that's OK by me, too.

I think it's all part of the way I find myself feeling in more recent years. I DON'T think I'm becoming more misanthropic, but I DO find myself, whether because of my rugged individualism or interest in objectivism or just exposure to PUBLIC TRANSPORTATION, to be realizing how much of what bothers me about the world having to do with a group mentality rather than an individual one. The more I think about it, the more I find myself realizing that human beings are a pretty amazing species, but most of what I like about us involves who we each are as unique beings, not what we do as a collective.

Maybe that's why I want to be someone who can take myself to Walmart at 2:17am, in the privacy of my car, with the Upper Crust singing "Let Them Eat Rock," to get a bag of Cheezies rather than have to be packed into a stinking bus next to a crackhead who keeps yelling "they never bought me a dog!" at exactly 3:15 in the afternoon (barring a fifteen minute delay), making three transfers, standing up the whole time, watching idiots spit at a bus stop outside Walmart, then spending the next hour making the same damned trip home.

If that's the world you want, then excuse me if I do everything possible to keep myself from living in it.

* I watched a little kid at O'Hare Airport chasing a cleaning woman's cart around because he thought she was selling ice cream. Now THAT'S comedy.

Let's All Go to the Lobby...

2010-03-30T15:08:00.000-07:00

OK, here are quick reviews of twenty movies I've seen in recent months...and...go!

Anvil: The Story of Anvil - I'm guessing the majority of folks who read this blog have already seen this film, but if not, for the love of Zod go rent it! It's the story of the band Anvil, who at one time were thought to be the "next big thing," but never were. It's heartfelt, and tear-jerking, and hilarious, and insightful, and just...wonderful. These guys are such lugs, and you can't help but feel for them (and those of us who have toiled in relative obscurity for years will absolutely empathize with 'em). If you can watch this without both laughing and crying...well, you're probably not someone I'm going to invite to my swanky dinner parties.

Pontypool - Another little gem. This was stars Stephen McHattie as an Imus-style radio personality who, along with a few other folks, finds himself trapped inside a radio station in the midst of the most unusual zombie apocalypse ever. I can't say much more than that without giving away the plot, but trust me, this is one of the more cerebral walking dead films you'll ever see. Just...peculiar. But in a very interesting way

Farmhouse - Holy moley, mother of god...this one knocked the wind out of me...OK, so it stars, among other folks, Steven Weber. Have I ever mentioned how much I cannot stand Steven Weber? Between his oh-so-affected acting and his moronic political rants, he's also not coming to my swanky dinner parties. But anyway, the movie is about a young couple who get mixed up with another young couple, and the latter duo are quite dangerous and insane. Now, up until the last twenty minutes or so, it's a bit like a much lesser version of Kalifornia...if Kalifornia had the DUMBEST...ENDING...EVER. I'm not joking. When I say this thing jumped the shark, I mean it jumped Mega-Shark. I'd tell you not to watch this piece of crapola, but really, you HAVE to see the ending. It's sublime in its awfulness.

Martyrs - I'm not sure what to say about this one. It's ostensibly a movie about a woman who is kidnapped and tortured, but not in a Hostel or Saw sort of manner. It had a great number of twists and turns, and I wasn't really sure HOW to feel about it, but there was something about the ending that won me over. If I may channel Mitch Hedberg for a sec, I'm sure people will either love it or hate it...or think it was just OK. I really dug it, though.

Seventh Moon - Ah, it was OK. It's one of those Ghost House pictures (who seem to have patterned themselves at the Eight Movies to Die For franchise). It's about an American couple in China who have to deal with some weird ghosty-demony kind of spirits. It had a few good scenes and interesting visuals. It wasn't great, but compared to Farmhouse it was Citizen Kane and the Magnificent Ambersons COMBINED.

District 9 - One of my favorite movies of the year. Great story, great acting, funny scenes, poignant scenes, and some of the most convincing effects I've seen in quite a while. And as opposed to the heavy-handed Avatar, this allegory doesn't beat you across the head. In fact, you could watch the thing and not necessarily even draw the Apartheid conclusions, because the story carries you along just fine without it. If you haven't seen this, seek it out.

Final Destination - The newest in the FD franchise, this one was filmed for 3-D, so it tends to look a little wonky as things come flying toward the screen. But really, what movie has a better rationale for 3-D? I generally have enjoyed the FD movies much more than other formula series like Saw, as the deaths are fairly inventive, and they really manage to maintain a sense of suspense. This one lived up to the rest for the most part, though there were a couple of cheese-o-rama scenes. Good for a night of brainless fun.

Machined - The upside of watching low-low-budget horror films is that you occasionally find a little gem. The downside is stuff like Machined. It's...oh, hell, I dunno...it has something to do with this guy that looks like the titular character from Otis, or maybe Grossberger, and he scrapes a motorcycle accident victim off the pavement and turns him into a killing machine. Well, assuming that your definition of killing machine is a guy in football pads wearing a welding mask. I guess he's supposed to be all cybernetic or somesuch, but no, he appears to just be on the welding squad of the Minnesota Vikings. It was just bad. Oh, so bad. It was "I need to take a shower afterward" bad.

Reborn - This movie is...THE SEQUEL TO MACHINED! I know, I know. "But Troy, if it was that bad, why would you watch the sequel?" Frankly, it's because I'm a completist who also suffers from OCD, and if there's more to a story out there, even a bad one, I generally go looking for it. Yeah, I DO realize how sick I am. Anyway, this one was actually a little better than Machined, but that's like saying being dropped into a vat of acid is slightly better than slowly being killed with a cheese grater (which is a scene from Farmhouse, btw).

It's Alive - Blech. A totally awful and unnecessary remakes of Larry Cohen's, well, sort of classic tale of a killer infant. This version was confusing, muddled, goofy, and totally pointless. There was no miracle to this birth, except perhaps that it actually got someone to produce it. I can only wish Margaret Sanger could've gotten to it before I did.

The Collector - Nine tenths of a pretty cool movie. The premise is that you have a burglar who breaks into a house, not knowing that a serial killer is already there, holding the residents hostage while he tortures them. The thief with a heart of gold finds himself in the role of erstwhile hero and has to save the family and himself from the dementoid. Really a nice little bit of suspense...until the end. Arrrrgh! Hey, Hollywood, I realize that many of your denizens are of the cynical, far-too-cool-to-be-upbeat crowd, but you know it's occasionally OK to have an ending that doesn't cry "I'm so nihilistic!" Lighten up; I know what screenwriters make.

Wrong Turn 3 - As everyone knows, I love cannibalistic hillbilly movies. Love 'em, love 'em, love 'em. And I dug the first two WT movies, especially the second, with Henry Rollins blowin' stuff up reaaaalll good. But this one made a HUGE mistake: they decided that basically just one crazy, cannibal hillbilly was enough to satisfy we cannibillyophiles. BZZZZZZZZ! Oh, so sorry. No, if I wanted one crazy murderous hillbilly at a time, I'd go see any one of my uncles on visiting day. No, I want as many flesh-eating, mutated jethroes as you can throw at me, please. WT3 is an OK film, I guess, but it was the weakest entry of the series thus far.

Albino Farm - OK, so here's another crazed hillbilly flick. This one has its own creepiness, largely supplied by a guest appearance by wrestling star and Fozzy frontman Chris Jericho, who plays a cornfed creepster well. For the sake of truth in advertising, I should mention that there were no actual albinos harmed in the making of this film (the family's NAME is "Albino"; that would've been a tough one to deal with in grade school). Not the best of its kind, but there's a perversity to this one that you have to appreciate.

Offspring - This one is sort of a switch on the cannibalistic hillbilly deal; rather than atomic Clampetts, this bunch is made up of warpainted savages who look like Sideshow Bob living in caves and kidnapping our menfolk to perpetuate their kind. All in all it's fairly lame. It's a good flick to give the MST3K treatment to, however, especially every time Art Hindle is on screen.

The Hills Run Red - Pleasantly surprised here. This fits into that "film within a film" genre that we've seen with things like Midnight Movie, but it makes its own mark, too. There's a fairly twisted angle to it that is quite horrific, and well, since it's a horror movie, that's a good thing!

Repo the Genetic Opera - Damned if I know. I'm guessing this thing will be a cult classic, but I'm not sure how I feel about it. There were a couple of tunes in there that are quite well done and catchy, but much of the music...I don't know...it seemed like it was being made up on the spot. For a movie like this to work, the lyrics have to be ultra-sharp, and for the most part these weren't. Your mileage may vary, though.

Trick 'r' Treat - A nice little anthology piece. It didn't live up to the HUGE hype I'd heard about it, but it was still quite enjoyable. I dig the fact that the vignettes are more closely tied in to each other than the standard anthology (say, Creepshow). Definitely worth watching.

Evil Bong 2: King Bong - Yikes. Y'know, I've never minded Charles Band and Full Moon Pictures doing their occasional goonfest, as long as they keep turning out stuff like the Puppet Master films. But these days, with stuff like Gingerdead Man and the Evil Bong films, and none of my beloved puppets to be seen, it's hard to look at this studio, one that I used to follow fervently, as a serious venture. Really, to enjoy this film, you probably need to be enjoying your own evil bong. Thankfully, though, they've announced a couple of new Puppet Master and Demonic Toys projects, none too soon.

Saw VI - By all that's holy, GIVE IT UP!!! Tobin Bell died, what, three or four movies ago? And the premise used to be that there was a certain amount of justice in the predicaments the victims found themselves in. But criminy, now Jigsaw is torturing people for having seventeen items in the "15 items or less" lane! I'll keep watching them because of the aforementioned OCD, but cripes, it's getting spread thinner than a woman in a David E. Kelley production.

Black Dynamite - An excellent spoof on blaxploitation films. Unlike something like I'm Gonna Git You Sucka (also a terrific movie), this one really captures the low budget aspects of the source material (right down to purposely having boom mikes in the shot and clunky editing). Very funny, and obviously a labor of love. I want more Black Dynamite!

Guess Who I Share A Birthday With Today?

2010-03-10T11:19:00.000-08:00

MMORPG, the Inexplicable Creature from Planet Spazz!

2010-01-30T08:38:00.000-08:00

As some of you may know, I recently was asked to do a City of Heroes arc for their new Guest Author program, and I lovingly crafted a story of Nazis, zombies, robots, werewolves, rock and roll, and cheap plugs for my comics in a little adventure I called "A Little Night Music." Since some of you folks may not be regular CoH players (and dammit, why aren't you?), I thought I'd run some screen shots from the five missions that make up my arc. And if you DO play CoH but haven't played these yet, you might want to wait. Hey, this gives me the chance to say...

SPOILER WARNING! Woooot! Woooot!

I should mention, by the way, that these pics were taken by a number of my fellow CoH forumites, and a swell bunch of eggs they are, including Aliana Blue, Gibson McCoy, Lazarus, Golden Girl, and a few by yours truly. Thank you folks, for all your efforts, and your terrific screenshots. Let's take a look, and bear in mind that most of these can be enlarged by clicking on them.

First up is super-strong she-wolf of the SS, and Der Fuhrer's former girlfriend, Evil Brawn.

And here's Brawny getting her giant clock cleaned by Golden Girl.

Here's GG again, taking on the dreaded Greco-Robots.

Here we see a group shot of the Fifth Column doing that voodoo that they do so...well, slimily.

The developers were kind enough to join in on some missions with the player base, and here we can see Dr. Aeon and team laying the smackdown.

Here's GG once more, taking on those electrical creations of "light-canthropy," the Wolf Blitzers.

This one shows the rescue of young Jimmy Preston (you may remember him from my issues of the CoH comic book).

These creepy SOBS are zombie gourmets known as the Bone Appetits.

And here's the undead ayatollah of rock and rolla, Bloody Holly.

The next couple here are shots of Bloody's minions, the lethal Fright Attendants, and the fearful atomic powered Boooo Rad-leys.

Now a few more shots of the Greco-Robots. Man, I didn't realize how intimidating a big group of these things would be when they're comin' at ya!

Next up is the corpse-raising Li'l Dead Riding Hood and her "pets."

Next is the scariest torch singer of all, Caba-Rage, both before and after she activates her power.

Finally, the archvillain of the piece, the legendary Nachtmusik, seen here with his "liebchen," and using his dream powers.

Anyway, that might give you a slight taste of what the story feels like, but if you get a chance (and CoH offers a FREE 14-day trial if you'd like to give it a try), check it out. I think you'll dig it. I sure had a blast making it. And my characters are animated! How cool is that???

Man, I'm such a fanboy.

And proud of it...

Merry Christmas!

2009-12-24T20:34:00.000-08:00

I leave for Vancouver in about 36 hours, but I wanted to wish all you good folks a very Merry Christmas, and a Happy New Year!

What We Got Here is...Failure to Communicate

2009-10-29T15:32:00.000-07:00

When it's time for my classes to write a critique paper, we usually watch a movie and write a review. This semester, we watched the Paul Newman classic, Cool Hand Luke. Here are a selection of the comments I received:

"I guess it was OK for a movie that old. It wasn't a classic, though, like Fight Club."

"I never realized Paul Newman was an actor before he made salad dressing."

"That was just stupid! If Luke had just followed the rules, he would have been fine."

"I suppose it was the best they could do with movies back in the 40s" (it was made in 1967, btw)

"I liked it all right, but I would have preferred something cute like Miss Congeniality or Legally Blonde" (never fails)

"The lead character is a man named John" (yeah, the title is just a red herring, I guess)

"I wonder if Luke did a lot of farting after those fifty eggs"

"I give it a seven. I would have given it more, but the special effects were terrible." (???)

"I mainly like vampires, but it wasn't too bad."

"If they hadn't killed him at the end, they could have done a sequel."

"It's not that I don't like prison movies. But I like ones like Lockup."

"I was expecting more gay prison sex, but we got lucky."

"If Paul Newman made this kind of movie, I can't say I'm upset he died."

"Not enough action" (this was written eleven times)

"The movie we watch was Cold Hand Luke."

"It would make a lousy video game."

Godspeed, Soupy

2009-10-24T09:25:00.001-07:00

I've never laughed so hard as I did at this man.

Saying Stuff As It Hits Me (for the love of Zod, don't say "semi"!!!)

2009-09-22T15:48:00.000-07:00

* Is it just me, or do you ever stop yourself as you're leaving the house to make sure you've put on pants? That sounds silly, of course, but given some of the truly dumb-ass things I've done in my life, it's NOT entirely impossible, so every once in a while I find myself looking down to make sure my "li'l hickman" is not exposed (well, assuming that my gut would allow me to see it anyway).

I remember one of my students saying to me "you know more than any human being I've ever met." I was beaming over that one, let me tell you. Yeah, dat's right, I'm da man. Wheel yourself outta my way, Stephen Hawking. Then, all of five minutes later, I went to the men's room, and when I tried to walk out, I found that I couldn't get the door open. I panicked for a second, until I realized that I was pushing on the side with the hinges.

Yeah, I'm Enrico freakin' Fermi...

* I'm working on a City of Heroes project that I can't talk about yet (I'll let ya know). Y'know, I have probably 120 CoH player-characters now, and only one (Nitewolf) has made it to level 50. Most are stuck in the 22-32 range. It occurs to me that probably 80% of them have puns for names, which sounds gimmicky, but I've found that both in the game, and in my comic writing, that such a method works well for me. They start off being goofy puns, but then it comes together when I try to flesh them out. I wonder if I took a character with a standard superhero name, say Captain Lightning or Darkbolt or something, and tried to do the same if it would work. Hard to say, and it'll probably never happen, as I'm much more likely to do Bananas Froster or Shock Cousteau.

* I think I'm supposed to dog-sit a little pug here in a day or two (if so, there will be pics). I would so dearly love to have a dog, and we're allowed to have 'em at our apartment building now. Unfortunately, while I could afford the $25 or whatever they add on to your rent for a dog, if anything ever happened to the little guy, health-wise, I couldn't afford to get him any treatment. So I'll just have to be happy with our two little turtles, Eastman and Fichtner, for the time being. Eastman is named after TMNT creator Kevin, obviously, and Fichtner is named after William "Mr. Pointy Face" Fichtner, whom he resembles.

* The other day the Dairy Queen close to my place had a deal where certain items were 50% off. I normally don't go to DQ, as the food is too expensive and REALLY is not the kind of stuff I should have on this diet. But the half-off deal was too tempting for a cheapskate like me, so I went through the drive-through while I was out and got myself an order of chicken strips, figuring that wouldn't be too bad.

I had to do some grocery shopping, so I pulled into the Pay-Less parking lot and decided to eat my chicken before going inside. I grabbed one of the little batter-dipped hunks of white meat and settled in for my "splurge."

But...it was...too gooey inside and...chewy...and...oh...my...god.

I suddenly realized what I was holding in my hand was a breaded hunk of completely, absolutely, totally RAW chicken. Not undercooked, not slightly cooked, not even warm inside. Raw, pink, cold chicken meat.

I spit it out and drove back to DQ, where I presented it to the manager.

"Look," I said, "I'm not the kind of guy who complains over little things, and if this were just slightly undercooked, hey, no big deal. But this bastard is still CLUCKING."

He let out an "OH MY GOD" and immediately got me a replacement, and thankfully this one didn't have salmonella as a dipping sauce.

I'm sure Dairy Queen is a fine establishment in general, but I'd advise against the chicken tartar.

I, Troy Hickman, Will Hereafter Stop Doing Stuff!

2009-09-15T15:47:00.001-07:00

So the other day I check my AOL mail to find a message that says "Troy Hickman has sent you a letter on Myspace."

Wha---? Oh, I figure, probably some new phishing scam or somesuch. So just to be sure, I log on to my MySpace page to find...a letter from Troy Hickman.

Specifically, it's a letter entitled "My Name is also Troy Hickman," and it said this:

"i would appreciate it if you quit doing stuff when i tell girls about me they google MY name and get you which is weird so stop it or add a side note that your not the TROY HICKMAN"

As it turns out, this was sent by a young man in Oklahoma who has found that being Troy Hickman is not the beer and skittles he imagined it being.

So what am I to do? Should I simply stop "doing stuff"? I mean, I'm practically a sloth now; I'm not sure I can become even more lethargic. Maybe I could stop doing things for an hour or two a day, just enough time for young Mr. Hickman to score with some chicks?

More importantly, how does one become "the TROY HICKMAN," and how did I miss out on that honor? Was it a problem with the paperwork? It wouldn't be the first time bureaucracy has bitten me on the ass.

If you google my name (at least, I THINK it's my name), you'll get something like 74,000 hits. As best I can tell, probably 90% of them have to do with me. Or at least, the ME that writes comics, teaches college English, and is typing these words now.

Doesn't that, by sheer weight of numbers, if not by the sheer weight of my buttocks, make me THE Troy Hickman? Or is it an honorary appointment of some kind? Does this nation now have a "Troy Hickman czar"???

Well, anyway, the least I can do for this poor kid is to point out to all you young ladies who are pondering whether to favor him with your charms that I AM NOT HIM! I'm sure he's everything I'm not (which would mean he's a water-breathing albino lesbian, but I digress), so give the guy a booty call and keep him off MySpace, will ya?

While I'm at it, here are a handful of other people I'm not:

I'm NOT this Troy Hickman. I've mentioned him before. He's the former mayor of Hayes, Kansas, and I think now he's on their city council (they demoted you, did they, Troy?). He looks like a straight shooter. Chances are HE would deny that he's me, too.

I'm NOT the Troy Hickman that also lives here in Lafayette. He's no relation to me, but I met him one time out at the Putt Putt course where my son worked. It turns out THAT Troy Hickman is a miniature golfing whiz (I could never do that, as the odds of me not snickering when someone mentioned "balls" and "stroke" in the same sentence are slim and none). The golfing Troy seemed like a decent enough guy. I get his phone calls sometimes, and I like to think he's gotten my offers from major comic book companies.

I'm NOT the Troy Hickman that used to be the first entry you got when you googled the name. THAT Troy Hickman was a convict, also here in Indiana, in Terre Haute, looking for gay cybersex. You can imagine how glad I was when he ceased being Troy Hickman numero uno on the internet. I always wondered about that guy, though. What the hell was his deal? I'd like to think all us Troy Hickmans are winners, but criminy, what kind of a guy has to go online looking for gay sex when HE'S IN PRISON??? Talk about coals to Newcastle...

I'm NOT Tracy Hickman. The fact that we're both writers and we both work in the fantasy field occasionally confuses people. The fact is that Tracy Hickman makes more money in a month than I've made in my entire life, and that includes the year I picked up extra cash from selling my blood plasma. I don't know Margaret Weis, I've never worked with Margaret Weis, and frankly, if I ever even tried to get Margaret Weis' autograph at a signing, I'm pretty sure she'd have the security guards treat me like a king...Rodney King.

I'm NOT much more famous and successful comic writer Jonathan Hickman. He seems like a very nice guy, and he's got more talent than everyone David Hasselhoff has ever judged COMBINED, but we're no kin. I kind of feel like a professional wrestling jobber having a match with Ric Flair when people mention us in the same breath, though; it can only give ME a positive rub, while it doesn't do a damned thing for him. Maybe I should get him a fruit basket to make up for it.

I'm NOT talented comic artist Jessica Hickman. Frankly, I cannot draw a purty pitcher to save my life (well, maybe to save my life...I mean...geez!). I've tried to draw since I was a little kid, but there's just something in my brain that doesn't click. I can design a pretty spiffy superhero costume, and I think I have a good sense of how a comic page should look IN MY HEAD, but when it comes to making my hand move in such a way that it creates something resembling realism, it's never gonna happen. I will NOT show you any of my artwork here.

I am NOT singer/songwriter/philanthropist Sara Hickman. I've got a decent singing voice, but most every song I've ever written is a parody, and as far as doing good works, the last charitable act I committed was not printing any of my artwork here, as mentioned in the paragraph above.

I am NOT TV's Dobie Gillis, Dwayne Hickman. I have read his autobiography, though, and it was a page-turner.

I am NOT Gene Hackman. The only French connection I've ever been a part of was when I nearly beat to death a street mime named "Pierre."

Anyway, Troy Hickman of Oklahoma, I hope this helps you get laid. If not, there's a guy in prison in Terre Haute who might be able to help you out...

(A big thanks to Veazey for the idea)

Quick Question

2009-09-10T10:28:00.001-07:00

Hey, I notice my counter down there went from 33K hits to 11K yesterday. Anyone know what would cause that? More importantly, anyone know what I can do about it?

Harumph, harumph.

Hey, I didn't get a "harumph" out of that guy!

Film, and Not the Kind On Pudding

2009-09-06T17:59:00.000-07:00

Lea and I watched some flicks while I was in Vancouver. Time for some quick reviews!

Unrest - Plot: I have no idea. There are pathology students cutting up cadavers and people dying by supernatural means, but that's about all I could make of it. It was one of those damned movies that are far too awful to enjoy, but not quite awful enough on an EPIC level so that you can love its...uh...awfultosity. It was 88 minutes of my life that was not useful in any way, and that's one thing for which I CANNOT forgive a film. One star out of five.

Autopsy - Wow. This one made Unrest look like The Exorcist. It stars Robert "Liquid Metal" Patrick, and I have to tell ya, I really feel sorry for the guy. He's a talented actor, but it just seems like he's never gotten the break he deserves. For every Terminator 2 or last couple seasons of the X-Files, he'll do five movies like Autopsy, and I think it's hurt his career a bit. Anyway, this is just a goonfest, and not in a good way (that is, John Gulager makes total goonfests, and I love 'em!). This is one ALMOST bad enough to be good enough to watch, though. You might check it out and make your own call (for some reason, it gets five out of ten stars on the IMDB and some of the folks there really dig it. Go figure). I give it half a star myself.

The Cottage - OK, now this is more like it. In the tradition of stuff like From Dusk Til Dawn (as well as things I've reviewed here like Malevolence), this starts out as a comedic crime flick about kidnappers, gangsters, hitmen, etc., but eventually turns into a crazed farmer slasher fiasco!

Really enjoyable stuff, with interesting characters, great dialog, and terrific performances by Andy Serkis, Reece Shearsmith and others. It's one of those great blends of goofy humor and horror that are rarely done well (outside of Sam Raimi), but it sure works here. Check it out. I give it four stars.

Zoo - Whoa. Uh, how do I describe this. It's a documentary, basically, about bestiality. Specifically it's about Kenneth "Mr. Hands" Pinyan, the Boeing engineer from Washington state who died in 2005 as a result of being...uh..."loved" by a stallion. It's also about the subculture of his friends and peers (called "zoos"), and their relationships with animals. Gang, it's a very troubling subject, but I have to say it's the damnedest movie I've seen in a long time. They handle the material in a straightforward way, recreating the events in some instances (but with nothing really graphic on-screen), and it's beautifully shot and edited. Don't watch it with young kids, and maybe not your parents (I had to sit through Lea describing it in great detail to her mom; the dictionary definition of "uncomfortable"). But watch it. Five squirming stars.

Mega-Shark vs. Giant Octopus - OK, I didn't watch this with Lea, but I had to mention it. OH.MY.ZOD. Watch it. Watch it! It's got Lorenzo "Snake-Eater" Lamas, and an octopus knocking fighter planes out of the sky, and Deborah "Don't Call Me Debbie" Gibson, and a shark biting the Golden Gate Bridge in half, and sudden nerdy Asian love, and 3-D shots in a film that lost its 3-D budget, and...and...watch it! "Deborah" has hinted at a sequel, and I can't wait. The entire state of Wisconsin couldn't make this much cheesy goodness. Zero stars for quality, but five for enjoyment.

American Pi

2009-08-26T11:46:00.000-07:00

Here are those American Pi pages I mentioned in my previous post. Please read it before you peruse these (and I think you can click to enlarge 'em).

Mr. Hickman Goes to Canada

2009-08-25T11:57:00.000-07:00

So...I've gotten back from Vancouver, and just in time to rant (and as we all know, my ranting gets raves). I'm liable to pontificate here at length, so either get yourself a cold beverage and settle in, or go do something more productive with your time, like lugubrious nose-twanging.

Anyway, there's a lot of talk in socio-political circles these days about "us" and "them." I hear people who I know to be of good conscience and ostensibly noble aims breaking the U.S. down in terms of "our side" and "their side." I hear folks who I would call my pals talking about how suddenly they're "proud of their country again" and how the air smells sweeter just because folks they support are holding the reins at the moment.

And you know, there's a time when I would have BEEN one of those people. For the first thirty-odd years of my life, when I was probably just to the left of Abbie Hoffman, I would've blindly gone along with that. And when I finally wised up and found myself merely REACTING to what a nimrod I'd previously been, I might have convinced myself of the "common sense" of that, too, and I would have been equally wrong.

But I'm not a kid anymore, nor am I an over-aged kid who never stopped being a rebel without a clue and asking "whattaya got?" And after a lot of soul-searching, and thousands of hours of my OCD-driven brain being able to think about nothing else (or, more accurately, adding it to the thousand other things my mental state makes me think about constantly and simultaneously), I've come to the conclusion that I have two "enemies" out there.

Nope, they're not one political party or another. Nope, not even a particular ideology.

No, my enemies are, put simply, ignorance and hypocrisy. And I'll give a couple of anecdotes to show to what I refer.

What got me thinking about all this was something that happened during my trip to Canada over the last couple of weeks. Lea and I went to visit her parents in Okanagan Falls, and while we were there (specifically while the snoozy woman I love was sleeping in), I went to an early-morning flea market that was right next door in a big vacant lot. For those who only care about things of a non-politcal/philosophical nature, I'll hold your interest by pointing out that while there, I bought a nice big video camera bag that I can use for all sorts of stuff, four mid-90s wrestling figures for Gabriel (Hogan, Savage, Vader, and Johnny B. Badd), a pair of nice silver/blue stone stud earrings for my girly-man pierced ears, a great handmade leather belt, and a bunch of fresh fruits and vegetables.

Ahem. Anyway, while I was trekking around the place, I stopped by a stand where an older British fellow was conversing with a younger Canadian guy about gun control, the NRA, and such. Now, frankly, I would've liked to have joined in and turned it into a rousing, and possibly heated discussion. Those of you who know me know that there's nothing I like more than debate, and that my answer to "is this the hill you're willing to die on" is always "yes," for good or ill.

But after a couple of minutes, I realized the utter futility of it all, given the INCREDIBLE ignorance of these guys, especially the Canuck. He was spouting all this absolute drivel, and putting it forth as absolute FACT. He went on about the 2nd Amendment specifically containing the phrase "in defense of God and country" and how that showed what a theocracy we continue to be. Of course, the amendment doesn't say anything even REMOTELY like that, but why let simple truth get in the way of a good head of steam?

Then he actually said, and I quote: "Every DAY 22,000 people die in the U.S. from gun deaths." For a second, I thought maybe he had just mispoke; god knows I do often enough. But then he REPEATED it for emphasis. "Ya, every... single... day 22,000 people are killed there because of their stupid love for guns. That means in the ten minutes or so I've been talking to you, over 150 people have been shot and killed."

Uh...22,000 a day. Really. Really?

Folks, I wanted to slap him with a slab of maple-encrusted back bacon but I'm proud to say I kept my composure. But criminy, I'm pretty sure that math works the same way in the Great White North that it works here, and it doesn't take Enrico freakin' Fermi to figure out that 22,000 people a day amounts to over EIGHT MILLION PEOPLE A YEAR. At that rate, it wouldn't take long before we killed those 500 million people a month that are losing their jobs.

Y'know, if you want to argue about gun control, that's a valid argument. I might end up still disagreeing with you, but I think there's virtue in having the debate, as I'd certainly like to prevent ANY gun deaths if I could. But for the love of Zod, there's no point in arguing with someone if they don't have ANY sense of the facts behind the issue, on whatever side.

So rather than standing there and doing what I do best (being a pain in the ass), I just let it go. It became obvious from what this guy was saying that not only didn't he know the facts, but he had no DESIRE to know the facts (it's not like he couldn't have found the text to the 2nd Amendment and gun death statistics on the internet in all of about twenty seconds). He had probably heard these "facts" from some other jughead, and since they figured into his agenda, he was willing to accept them as gospel.

And I see this stuff ALL the time, from folks all over the political spectrum. They see something or hear something or read something, and it reinforces what they believe, so it MUST BE TRUE. It makes me sick when someone who disagrees with me blindly accepts this crap, and it makes me even sicker when someone who agrees with me does so (as "support" from mallet-heads does nothing but weaken my case).

It never ceases to amaze me (although at this point it should) how willing people are to ignore facts, logic, reason, and objectivity when it makes them feel good about being "on the right side" of an issue. Doesn't the truth matter anymore? But then, I forget that relativism has become the new coin of the realm ("What is truth" said Pontius Pilate).

We've become so caught up in this elementary school-level mindset of "us vs. them" that we can ONLY see things from one perspective. Y'know, I've been critical of some of the things the current political administration has done, and almost inevitably, when I've voiced that criticism, some yahoo will say "Well, what about Dubya??? Huh? What about THAT?"

What about that? Well, how about the fact that I wasn't a supporter of Bush, and didn't vote for him his second term (just like I voted for Clinton in 92, but not 96; I may not be a rocket scientist, but I'm a fairly quick study of a man's character). But these poster children for prophylactics apparently can't conceive of someone who doesn't follow a party line, doesn't vote straight ticket, and doesn't fall in lock step with any one ideology. To them, you're either "with us or agin us" and if you don't sycophantically support our guy, you must be in "the enemy's camp."

It's like when I wrote the story "This'll Be the Day" for Holey Crullers #6 (which was redrawn by Sam Kieth for Common Grounds #6). I wrote what I considered a fairly non-controversial story, a tribute to what Steve Englehart and others had done with Captain America at one time, regarding what I thought was the best stuff about America: a degree of opportunity and the freedom to speak out against injustice and lawfully change things if we disagree with them. Wow, what a crazy reactionary notion, eh? And 99% of folks of ALL ideologies seemed to get it. But I did see one or two comments where people referred to it as "propaganda" and such. And for the life of me, I couldn't, and still can't, understand what's propagandistic about saying America, for all its faults (and it has myriad faults), is still a place where we have a lot more freedom and self-determination than many places in the world. I mean, I kind of hold these truths to be self-evident, y'know? But I think some folks were probably rubbed the wrong way that I presented even THAT notion, as it's not firmly in the "America is always the bad guy" mindset. I dunno, maybe I'm wrong. I'll make a separate post with the pages of the story where its heroine, American Pi, and her detractors talk about this country, and you can decide for yourself (are there any more beautiful words in the English language?).

Now, I said I consider there to be TWO enemies out there, and the other is hypocrisy, a scurvy little spider that burrows under my skin and slowly makes its way to my brain like few other things. I've long said that while nature abhors a vacuum, Troy Hickman abhors a double standard, and few things are truer than that.

So here's another anecdote from just a few days ago. A guy that I work with, let's call him Percy, was talking about all the recent comparison of a political figure or program with Hitler or the Nazis. He went on about how terrible such analogies are, and I absolutely agreed with him. I think we have to be very careful about when we make such comparison, not just because of the gravity of the charge, but also because at some point, we're going to want that charge to actually MEAN something when we ARE confronted by Nazi-like behavior.

But then I made the "mistake" of saying that it ALWAYS bothers me, whether it's someone with whom I agree saying it, or Nancy Pelosi and people in the Congress or Senate saying it, or folks CONSTANTLY saying it for the last eight years about Bush (I have a lot of problems with that guy, but they mainly have to do with his wishy-washy qualities, not a resemblance to Adolf).

Well, those were apparently fightin' words to Percy, who was quick to add "oh, no, it's OK to make those comparisons to the Bushies, and to the tea party and town hall types."

"Why is that OK," I asked, knowing full well what was coming.

"Because in those cases, of course, it's true!" he said.

I just walked away.

And you know, I find myself more and more these days just walking away. There was a time when I spent Zod knows how many hours making my thoughts known on various message boards, arguing for what I believed was right, fighting the good fight. But these days, I think I've (somewhat) gained the wisdom to know when anything I say is going to fall on deaf ears. These days, rather than arguing with people whose views are almost certainly NEVER GOING TO CHANGE IN ANY WAY, I end up choosing to use that time to do some actual good, to do stuff that may not be as flashy, but that is actually more likely to change the world for the better in PRACTICAL terms. There are a ton of ways a person like myself, who hopefully has at least SOME talent with communication, can make a socio-political difference, other than engaging in irrelevant mental ping-pong with some drone.

Lately, when I DO confront someone with whom I disagree, it's more likely to manifest itself as a simple question: if I could prove to you that what I'm saying is 100% correct, TO YOUR SATISFACTION, would that make a difference to you? Would it cause you to change your views?

Folks, the answer I usually get should terrify any person who cares about the truth, and reason, and objectivity. It sure scares the living HELL out of me.

Back to hypocrisy, though. There is NOTHING that shames me more than when someone points out to me that I'm holding a double standard about something. It doesn't happen often, because I at least TRY to be introspective about such stuff, but occasionally I screw up, and when I do I'm mortified.

I'm amazed, though, by how many people hold hypocritical views and not only AREN'T ashamed, but revel in the damned thing!

Y'know, in my favorite film, Mr. Smith Goes to Washington, Jimmy Stewart spouts a lot of wisdom, and among it is these lines: "Now, you're not gonna have a country that can make these kind of rules work, if you haven't got men that have learned to tell human rights from a punch in the nose."

Sadly, there are far too many folks in this country who don't mind that punch in the nose, as long as it's the "right" nose that's being punched. For example, there are the truly awful people, of WHATEVER political stripe, who have no problem with dictators, as long as those dictators are closer to "our side" of the political spectrum. Hey, here's a crazy idea: evil is evil.

And there are far too many people who are perfectly fine with our country becoming a gilded cage, as long as THEIR cage gets some gilding. Well, I'm glad you could get a new Blu-Ray player there, Hoss, but MY freedom is something I'm not willing to sell, and I'm sure as hell not willing to have YOU broker it for me.

These are often the same folks who think they're being "good people" (and they may be) for taking a stand on buying dolphin-safe tuna, or boycotting Walmart, or refusing to support the advertisers of a particular program, but then tell me I'M simply an extremist if I choose not to purchase Ben & Jerry's ice cream or stop buying Springsteen's albums because I disagreed with a position they took.

They're the same people who think that if a politician they support says something dumb, that's merely a "slip of the tongue," but if someone on the "other side" does it, they're obviously idiots (we ALL occasionally say goofy crap, whether it's mispronouncing "nuclear" and "strategy," saying there are 57 states, the aforementioned "500 million" comment, or probably a thing or two I say in this rant).

They're the same people who can talk for YEARS about how dissent is "the highest form of patriotism" (and it may well be) and then LITERALLY, within 24 hours time, change their tune to "we all have to come together" and "it's un-American if you disagree.

And sadly, they're the same folks who, by virtue of NOTHING more than a change of political administration, say "I'm finally proud of my country again." Gang, I try, I really, really try to maintain an even strain, and to control my temper, but when I hear that phrase, I just want to go all Billy Jack.

In MY opinion (and this is my freakin' blog, so that's what you're going to get), if you can ONLY be proud of your country when people YOU approve of are in office, or policies with which you agree are in effect...then YOU...JUST...DON'T...GET...IT.

I have ALWAYS been proud of my country. I haven't always been proud of the actions of its leaders or its citizens, but the United States of America ITSELF is not just a series of good or bad decisions by individuals or groups. It's about an idea, the idea that people can live freely and determine their own destiny, and the idea that, even if we're vehemently opposed to someone's ideas, we can still UNITE (hence the name) in our common desire for freedom (that's why I will not accept the notion of "diversity uber alles" unless it incorporates the idea of diversity of THOUGHT; otherwise it's nothing more than the superficial attempt to make sure you have different colored eggs in your basket).

I feel shame for FDR and the other leaders of his time who allowed the internment of Americans of Japanese descent. But I don't feel ashamed of my country for it. I feel shame for those people in our government who OKed the Tuskegee Study. But I don't feel any less pride for this "experiment" we call the United States of America.

I felt tremendous shame for Bill Clinton when he cheated on his wife and lied about it on national television (and if you're the sort of person who says "all men cheat" or "he HAD to lie about it," please, don't let the screen door hit you in the ass on the way out of this blog). But as awful as I consider adultery, I was still proud of our country and its ideals, whatever our president might have done. I felt shame for George W. Bush when he authorized the bailouts late in his term, a cowardly and stupid act that is partially at fault for getting us into our current straits. But his boneheaded play didn't make me any less proud of this nation and what I believe it stands for (and if you want to know what that is, take another look at my American Pi "propaganda" mentioned above).

The people of this country have done a lot of terrible things, just like the people of pretty much every country have. They've also done some pretty wonderful things. But either way, the NOTION of the U.S.A., the values that MOST of us (at least the ones not wearing tinfoil hats) strive for, are something bigger than any one of us, bigger than any group of us, bigger than any stupid or miraculous or completely neutral act that we will ever commit.

So yeah, I may think you're a total sleazebag. Hell, sometimes I might think I'M a total sleazebag. But this country is a lot more than just you, or me, or Percy, or Springsteen, or Clinton, or Bush, or anyone else. It's about an ideal that, while we may fail terribly to achieve at times, we continue to strive for amidst all the bad decisions and outright EVIL because...well...because it's THAT important.

Anyway, I guess I've rambled on enough about this. I think I'll leave off the comments this time since, as I said, I'm not sure I want to spend my time arguing on the internet, especially since you good folks reading this either (A) already get it, or (B) never will (though you can email me if you want). But it's something I needed to get off my chest. Of course, an hour from now I'll be pissed off about it again, but such is the nature of my beast...

Quick Update

2009-08-05T13:39:00.000-07:00

A couple of things.

(1) I'm currently in Canada. Don't panic, U.S.A....I'll be back soon.

(2) I've lost 40 pounds so far. Eventually I'll be half the man I used to be, but still twice the man any of you are! (Except Rosie O'Donnell)

No Man Is An Island...However...

2009-07-09T10:41:00.000-07:00

OK, so as of today I've lost 25 pounds on this diet. Hence the premise for this bit!

The Ten Worst Things About Losing Weight

10. Not being able to eat delicious foods. Frankly, eating is probably one of the top couple of pleasures in which a human can indulge. Lea and I were talking about this the other night, and we agree that there's not too many things better than a great meal. Yeah, sex is up there (especially the way I do it!!!), holding a puppy, seeing some great natural wonder, yadda yadda yadda. But when you're on a diet, you can still do all that stuff. The sudden inability to have a big, cheesy pizza, or a plate of pirogies covered in sour cream and bacon...well, THAT'S hell.

9. Changing sizes of clothes. If you're someone like me who has yoyoed throughout life, and you're smart, you save your clothes of different sizes as you fluctuate. Unfortunately, I haven't always been that smart. At the moment, for instance, I'm transitioning back toward XL shirts, and I'm sure I don't have more than a couple of them in my closet (and bear in mind that I literally have probably a hundred shirts in my closet). And pants? Yeesh. Y'know, when I get down to my goal weight, I think I'm going to take one of my REALLY big pairs and sell them on ebay for charity (I think the City of Heroes gang might bid on 'em, given their preoccupation with my pants).

8. The fact that people DON'T KNOW you're dieting. See, I've lost a sizeable amount of weight so far, but people who have never seen me before don't know that, so they might assume that I've always been just this size, or worse, that I'm on my way UP. And yes, I realize how neurotic that makes me sound. Know why? Because I'm neurotic.

7. Exercise. Sorry, but just cutting down on the food won't cut it, especially when you get to my advanced stage of decrepitness. You have to hit the gym. And I do, at least five or six days a week, plus my nightly constitutional (that's where I go door to door, telling people about the importance of the Second Amendment).

6. Free food. See, it's bad just not being able to eat, but when you're as cheap as I am, and you suddenly get the opportunity to score some free food, that's a killer. So when I come into the adjunct faculty room and someone has left donuts or cookies, or when there's a big spread of meats and cheeses at faculty orientation, or when a friend has a barbecue, etc., I want to get as much gratis grub as possible. There's a time when I would have filled my pockets with my ill-gotten booty (or my ill-booten gotty), but now it's for naught. Naught!!!

5. One of the things people usually do when they try to give up a vice is to increase another vice. But I don't smoke, I rarely drink, I don't gamble. If I'm not overeating, what's going to take up the slack? I do find myself shopping a bit more, especially at dollar store type establishments. I get a certain pleasure from picking up a cheap doodad or knicknack. Not as much as a greasy cheeseburger and fries, but hey...

4. My head. Look, I've been as heavy as almost 400 pounds, and as "normal" as 175, but no matter how much weight I lose, I still have a big, round head. I wish we lived in a society where the standard for male beauty was less Keanu Reeves and more John Candy, but unfortunately you folks have dropped the ball...

3. It's a strange thing to say, but after you've lost the weight, you sometimes feel guilty around other folks who are heavier, as if you've "gone over to the other side," as silly as that sounds. That's a phenomenon that occurs in a lot of subcultures, though (for example, I understand from friends there's sometimes a real clanishness in the deaf community regarding folks who regain their hearing, or who live too much outside the "deaf world"). The thing is, though, that there's not really much solidarity among fat people. Yes, we do enable each other to pig out and such when we're friends, romantic partners, etc. But if you think overweight folks are much more accepting of other fatties, don't kid yourself. Some of the meanest comments you'll ever hear are from other fat people (and given the rate of obesity, they're becoming legion). It may be a defense mechanism, it may be self-hatred, it may simply be that they're as affected by cultural norms as anyone else, but it's there.

2. Weight comes off slowly. SLOWLY. Nothing irks me more than the fact that I could easily put on a couple of pounds a day, but there's no way in hell that I could ever take it off that fast (not that either is really healthy). The worst part about it is that, at least for me, to keep my motivation strong, I need to see an actual loss on a regular basis. Lea always tells me not to weigh myself every day, because there will be fluctuations, but homey can't play that. If I only weighed myself, say, once a week, and there wasn't any loss in that week? It'd be very tough to keep going beyond that point.

1. The adjustment. I'm guessing most of you have never gone through a really major weight loss (say, at least 100 pounds), but it's just damned hard getting used to the difference. For at least a time (and I'm not sure I've ever been "thin" long enough to make it all the way through it), there's a time when you don't really know how to move, act, etc., because you're suddenly quite literally half the person you used to be. Even at 175, I'm not sure I ever stopped feeling like a fat guy.

Now, that's the DOWN side. After I lose another five pounds, I'll be back to tell you the ten BEST things about losing weight. Same fat time, same fat channel...

School Daze

2009-06-18T10:28:00.000-07:00

So I gave my classes a quiz today about language-oriented stuff (extra credit, as I knew they would probably have a tough time with it), and here are some of their answers:

What is a Pyrrhic victory?
"Victory by fire" (wrong, but at least they're thinking)

What is Murphy's Law?
"What goes up must come down" (three people said that)
"Gravity" (thanks for inventing gravity, Mr. Murphy; my sammiches kept floating away)

What does penultimate mean?
"The perfect writing utensil" (four answers like that)

If you talk about a woman's gams, to what are you referring?
"Back fat" (ha!)
"grandmother" (that's a prized set of grandmas you have there, sister!)
"Boobies" (sometimes the simplest ones are the best)

Give an example of a palindrome.
"Anytime McCain's running mate spoke"
"Something in your body" (Yeah, it's that racecar I swallowed)
"House of pain" (you know, like Mad Max Beyond Palindrome; two men enter, one man leaves...backwards!)
"Sarah's Fortress of Solitude" (where she goes to keep Letterman from knocking up her daughter)

Define homocentric.
"Gay bar"
"A style of dress where as individuals dress in bright collors and they are mostly bisexual" (!)
"someone who is obsessed with homosexual topics"
"an eccentric human"

Finish this old saying: "A bird in the hand is worth ____"
"Five in the pan" (I think I'd much rather have five cooked birds than one in my mitt, but hey...) "Billions of things" (I caught a pigeon! I'm off to the car dealership!)
"The crap it leaves behind" (obviously an ornithophobe)
" a penny in the bank" (but it all adds up!)

What is a Briton?
"a type of water filtering system" (classic)

What is a Catch-22? "A sticky wicket" (Who's in my class, Sir Aluminium Bootbonnet? Name that reference, by the way)

You might go swimming in a scuba suit. What do the letters in SCUBA stand for?
"Swimming in the Cold water Under or Below the Atlantic" (wrong, but I like it!)
"Stop Chewing Under Big Apples"
"Sea Clothes Used Clothing Attire" (I so want to shop there)
"Scared Cause U Bout out of Air"

What do tabasco sauce, jello, and kleenex have in common?
"vinegar" (New Kleenex with the agonizing sting of vinegar!)
"They're all used when someone has a cold" (Nothing like jello to put you back on your feet)
"They are all strangely soft"
"They all touch the mouth" (Yeah, I like to lick my kleenex after I blow my nose)
"animal fat"

What is a mondegreen?
"An ugly shade of green"

What distinguishes a marionette from a puppet?
"The marionette uses strings and a tape player" (I really think marionettes need to get with the 21st century and use CDs)

What is a didgeridoo?
"A drug used for male enhancement" (hey, if I have to swallow a didgeridoo for that "something extra," I'll do it)

What does antebellum mean? "part of the brain" (Six answers like this)

What is suffrage?
"hardship" (almost EVERY answer was like this)

What is Esperanto?
"European sports car" (It's what Shatner drives!)
"A Mexican word" (spoken by all those practicioners of the Mexican language)
"A Latin music group" (but they can't get Ricky Martin for the reunion)
"A Spanish country" (one of the many) "Tonto's cousin" (you heap wrong, Kemosabe!)
"A freedom fighter of Mexico" (Benicio Del Toro IS...Esperanto!)

God bless 'em...

Movin' Pitchers!

2009-06-11T08:51:00.000-07:00

OK, so while I was in Vancouver, Lea and I watched a bunch of movies. Here's what I thought:

The Wrestler - Really enjoyed this. Mickey Rourke was fantastic! Best performance of his career. My son (who is going through pro wrestling training at the moment) thought it was a bit too "Hollywood-ized" in parts, but I took that as a result of this being both a throwback to a very old style of picture (much like the original Rocky in that) and also kind of a more edgy, "postmodern" take. I have a better-than-most understanding of the wrestling biz, and it hit the major chords for me (the scene at the fan "meet and greet" hit so close to home, not just in terms of wrestling, but also for comic folks who have done shop signings, conventions, etc.). Just in terms of pure movie-making, though, fantastic stuff. The scene with Rourke's "Randy the Ram" working in the deli is one of the finest scenes in recent movie history. Just beautiful. It will be interesting to see where Rourke goes after this; I'm hoping, given his unusual look these days, that he doesn't ONLY get parts like this and his Sin City turn as Marv. He should've walked away with the Oscar (much more deserving than the hypocritical Sean Penn, who makes a "tolerance" movie like Milk while supporting people like Castro; doesn't he know how Cuba has treated homosexuals over the years? Does the word "gulag" mean anything to you? Cram it, Spicoli). I give this one five stars out of five. *****

Slumdog Millionaire - Y'know, I brought this one with me, and we both noticed how reluctant we were to actually sit down and watch it. Strange, isn't it? Sometimes you just can't bring yourself to watch a flick even if you're pretty darned positive it's good. Anyway, when we eventually got down to it, we dug it very much. Interesting storytelling technique, and sheds light on a culture with which a lot of people are not that familiar. Nice juxtaposition of humor, drama, and occasional moments of tension. They even gave us a wink and a nod at the end with a Bollywood number. Anyway, definitely a movie worth seeing, if you're one of the presumably few who haven't done so yet. Four and a half stars. **** 1/2

JCVD - Sweet sassy molassey! We had heard about this, but didn't really know what to expect. Truth be told, I'm still not exactly sure what we got, but damned if it wasn't one of the most fascinating movies I've watched in a long time. The premise is this: Jean-Claude Van Damme, playing himself, has fallen on hard times. He's fighting for custody of his kids, his movie career is faltering (he loses out on roles to Steven Seagal!), and life in general is just no (Van) damn good. Then, while in Brussels, he becomes one of the hostages of a group of bank robbers who are holed up inside a bank. Due to misunderstandings, though, the media, and therefore the public, end up thinking Van Damme is BEHIND the robbery, turning it all into a circus. That's the basic idea, but it doesn't even scratch the surface here. Perhaps the most compelling scene is when the camera suddenly pans up, showing us the boom mics and such, signalling that it's breaking the "fourth wall," and JCVD gives us a very moving soliloquy about his life and career. It's the (Van) damndest thing, let me tell ya. See this movie, folks. You'll be glad you did. A totally transfixed five stars from me. *****

Frozen River - I was iffy on this one when Lea picked it out at the video store. My reservations were mainly due to the video box description, which made it sound far too much like Thelma and Louise (or as I like to call it, "root canal without the charm"). However, that description aside, it was actually a nifty little movie about two women who become involved in smuggling illegals over the Canadian border into the U.S. by way of driving over a frozen river. They're both interesting characters, the plot is tense (the baby scene alone had me wincing), and the acting is just spot-on. Don't let some of the packaging as a "chick flick" scare you away from this one. It's a movie with a big brass set, if you smell what I'm cooking. Four stars from me. ****

Baghead - Lea picked this one out, and I think she did so as a concession to me. If I haven't mentioned it before, she's not that big on fantasy-based stuff, or action films, or (especially) horror, so we end up trying to find common ground (!) in our movie rentals (centering on comedies, oddities like JCVD, picking out-of-the-ordinary fantasy stuff like The Host or The Orphanage, etc.) She saw the box for Baghead, and given the horror movie premise, and the indy film atmosphere and mentions of Cannes, she probably thought it was something that I'd like and that she could tolerate. The basic premise is that two couples go out into the woods to make a low-budget movie. Eventually they decide to make it a horror film with a stalker named Baghead who simply wears a...well, a bag on his head. But Baghead (the film WE'RE watching) is not really a horror movie. It's a sort of relationship comedy/drama with Baghead as a device. I'm of mixed feelings about this one. On one hand, I dig the fact that it was made for about the price of a Burger King combo meal by the Duplass brothers, who seem like cool guys (based on the behind the scenes DVD stuff), and who are supposedly getting to do bigger stuff based on their success. Good for you, guys! On the other hand, I expect the script for this kind of movie to be much sharper in its dialog, as that's basically what's going to carry the film. It didn't really stand out in that respect, unfortunately. Also, the ending made it seem like a very familiar urban legend or anecdote that I've heard numerous times before. Overall, I think I got my rental's worth, though. I'll say two and a half stars here. **1/2

Wendy and Lucy - Yeesh! Where do I start here? First, I should point out that my Twilight Guardian comic has received a lot of great response, but there have been occasional folks who've said "Nothing happens in it!" My favorite comment was from Tyler (a nice guy) over at Heavy Ink who said “Here I am walking around my neighborhood. Now I’m at home. Now I’m walking around again. Look a car. Now it’s over.” Ha! Now, hopefully those of you who read TG realize there was a lot more to it than that, but I understand that for a handful of folks it just didn't work. OK, no problem. It still won Pilot Season, thank goodness. What does all this have to do with Wendy and Lucy, you ask? Just this: everything those people thought about Twilight Guardian is what I think about Wendy and Lucy. NOTHING HAPPENS. The plot involves a young woman who packs up her car, takes her dog, and begins a drive from Indiana to Alaska. Along the way, her car breaks down, she gets picked up for shoplifting, the dog disappears..and...well, that's the entirety of the plot. OK, now I should be all right with that. Obviously one of the hallmarks of my own work is the attempt to find interest in what's ostensibly "mundane." The problem with Wendy and Lucy is that the filmmakers are unable to do that. There is nothing WITHIN the structure of the film to engage the viewer. The dialog is not dynamic, there's no "hook," there's no quirkiness to the secondary and tertiary characters, etc. We have no idea why Wendy is going to Alaska, why she's doing so in such an ill-prepared way, what her backstory is...nothing. And because of everything I've mentioned, we don't particularly care. Gang, given that what this movie attempts to do is not that far removed from what I do and what interests me, I desperately wanted to like it. And I DO give the filmmakers points for what they were trying to do. But I'd be lying if I said that I was better off, more entertained, more enlightened, WHATEVER after having viewed it. Your mileage may vary. I'll give it a star and a half, because I kind of liked the security guard character. *1/2

If it's out by my next trip, I'm hoping to watch the DVD of Watchmen with Lea. This should be interesting...

I'm in Vancouver!

2009-05-15T10:47:00.000-07:00

Just so you know.

Troy Hickman, Master of the DP!

2009-04-27T15:58:00.000-07:00

I LOVE the Doom Patrol. Love them, love them, love them. And if I had my choice of any assignment at DC, it would be writing the Doom Patrol. No, not the Vertigo-style DP. No, not whatever the heck John Byrne did with them. I'd like to write the DP as they were in the 60s (and maybe set in the 60s...maybe a pre-Crisis 60s at that).

Anyone from DC reading this? Do you want a great comic series? Because that's what I'd give you. I've been waiting to write this one since I was about five (but I promise not to write it like I am...except for a childlike awe and affection for the material).

I've got stuff to keep me busy in the meantime, but think about it, DC...

Indubitably!

2009-04-27T15:27:00.000-07:00

One of my favorite bands, The Upper Crust, has a new album out, Revenge For Imagined Slights, which you can buy at their website here. They recently made an appearance on Craig Ferguson's show, and they still rocque like no one else...

The Horror!

2009-04-17T10:11:00.000-07:00

I feel like writing some quick movie reviews....so I am! And you can't stop me!

Anyway, when I pop a movie into the DVD player, it's quite often a B grade horror film. Or a C grade horror film. Or...well, you get the point. To Lea's chagrin, I have a real jones for these things, even though I know going into it that most of the time they're going to be...to be kind...less than stellar. But that's OK! I find that even in the bad ones, I find concepts, scenes, etc. that appeal to me. And let's face it, if you have to watch a bad movie, a bad horror movie is one of the better choices (bad comedy is the worst, and the most obvious, and truly a scourge on this planet).

So, that having been said, let's get going. I'm going to use a specific "cheap horror" rating for these, based on a one to ten scale (ten being a great flick like Behind the Mask: The Rise of Leslie Vernon, and one being Joe Castro's evil, awful fever dream, Terror Toons). I'll also try to go from worst to best, saving the primo stuff for last...which means you can imagine how I feel about this first stenchmonster below...

First up, Alive or Dead. Terrible name for a horror film, by the way (and it makes me want to sing "You spin me right round, baby, right round"). The plot? Oh, hell, you tell me. It starts off with a decent premise: a woman comes across an abandoned bus with the words "Help Me" scrawled on the inside of one of the windows. Okey dokey. And the first twenty minutes or so are interesting enough to keep me going. But then...frankly, I can't tell you what happens after that. It involves a big lummox chasing two women around, and being very inept at it. That's him in the pic above, by the way, and I have to call shenanigans, as he looks MUCH scarier and more formidable here than in the movie. In actuality, he looks sort of like wrestling's late John Tenta (Earthquake, the Shark, Golga, etc.), but without the grace and charisma. There's some sort of a subplot involving this loser tying women up and impregnating them, I think (what is it with so many of these movies, especially the crazed hillbilly/mountain man/mutant ones, taking a "Mars Needs Women" angle?). Anyway, watch this one only if you want the pleasure of explaining to your ol' Uncle Troy what the @#$% it was about.

Two Stars - **

Next we have Malevolence. The idea here is that you have some bank robbers show up at a house (or close to one) where a serial killer has been operating. And...golly...he ends up killing them! Very little here is any more surprising than that. And even the killings are fairly bland for this sort of fare. There is an epilogue that seems somewhat tacked on, but it does raise the movie in my esteem just a bit, so good for them. I wouldn't recommend you go out of your way to see this, but if you have an unlimited rental deal like I do, I don't think you'll feel your intelligence is TOO insulted by this one.

Three stars - ***

And...Plasterhead. OK, so this is about four college kids from Jersey going on spring break to Florida. They find a woman's purse, go to a small town and try to return it, and get caught up in a lot of murderous mayhem. Frankly, there's not much to recommend this movie except the fact that its main character is called Plasterhead, and that's no small thing. He has some sort of origin involving a bunch of racists working over a black guy and leaving him for dead, but that's really just a lot of yah-yah; what's important here is that he covers his head in plaster and calls himself Plasterhead. There's also a really crazy redneck gas station guy who has to be seen to be appreciated. This moves along too slowly, and they spend a strangely inordinate amount of time talking about the fact that the town they're in used to be called something else (I'm not big on movies that use zoning ordinances as fodder for terror). It's worth a look if you have nothing else to do, though, as it has a character called Plasterhead.

Midnight Movie - This one is in the vein of stuff like The Video Dead, Shocker, and Wes Craven's New Nightmare, though not as memorable as any of those. The premise is that a low-budget horror film was made in the 1970s, and the star/director eventually went crazy, got out of the nuthouse five years ago, and may be on the loose and menacing. The film in question, by the way, seems somewhat like the original Texas Chainsaw Massacre, though it has the unlikely title "The Dark Beneath" (sounds like a movie about Cicely Tyson's butt to me). Anyway, a bunch of teen-agers end up at a midnight showing of this "classic" flick, and before you know it, the murderer from the movie leaves the screen and begins...you guessed it...killing folks in the theater. For what it is, it's fairly well done, and there are a few neat touches. Unfortunately, there are also some plot holes big enough to drive a hovercraft through (and if I catch them, then you KNOW they're a problem). There's also a biker character played quite nicely by Stanley Ellsworth who's the best character in the movie, but the most creative name they could come up with for him was "Harley"? Hey, why not call the police detective "Flatfoot" or the little kid "Ankle-Biter"? Anyway, this one may not be an instant classic, but it did entertain me for most of the ninety minutes or so that it ran, so it's worth a look.

Five stars - *****

Storm Warning is the tale of an Australian guy and his French girlfriend who are out boating when a storm forces them to take cover on a small island. As it turns out, it's the home a a crazy guy and his sons, who are involved in a grow-op, abductions, rapes, murders, and probably even the occasional tearing the sticker off a mattress. Pretty basic "terrorized by the locals" plot, but it's fairly well done. You get a real sense of depravity from the evil family, and a nice catharsis when they're eventually turned into lunch meat. There's a "nice" scene where an attempted rape goes terribly wrong for the perpetrator, and it had me audibly saying "Ouch!" as I watched it. If you enjoy stuff like Wolf Creek, this will probably grab you.

Five Stars - *****

Eden Lake - Here's another Aussie horror film (they're really turning 'em out) that has a similar premise to Storm Warning. A young couple are on a holiday, and they suddenly find themselves the victims of a sadistic bunch. In this case, though, the attackers are a group of 12-17 year olds, who end up doing some very nasty things to our protagonists. This one gets points for giving you a sense of both the peer pressure involved for these kids, and also for the sociopaths that their upbringing has led them to be. It reminds me a little of stuff like The River's Edge or Over the Edge (I guess nothing makes your film edgier than putting "edge" right there in the title). I'm torn on the ending, which is powerful, but which seems a little too similar to Last House on the Left (or Virgin Spring, for that matter), and is a bit contrived. This one is sufficiently tense and definitely worth the time to watch it.

Six Stars - ******

Hatchet? Well, it's just a lot of fun. Concept? A bunch of people are on a boat tour of the bayou, when they are confronted with the slasher du jour, one Victor Crowley. The PR campaign for this one plays strongly on the angle that ol' Vic is going to be the next Michael Myers or Jason Vorhees, and I think that's expecting a lot from the newbie, but he is one scary-looking sack of pucks who really seems to enjoy his work (and for whom you feel a certain pity, which is no small feat for a guy who's lopping off the heads of innocents). What makes this one stand out among the field of similar flicks is mainly the dialog, which is quite smart in comparison to most low budget (or even big budget) horror. A number of solid laughs in the midst of the mayhem, and you get the feeling that the cast and crew don't take themselves too seriously. I wouldn't mind seeing Victor return.

Six Stars - ******

Jack Brooks, Monster Slayer seems to be an attempt to make Evil Dead/Army of Darkness with a lot less money and a lot fewer Raimi-cam moments. And ya know, for the most part it works. Jack himself is a hapless everyman loser, but once he begins his monster-slaying, he's the man. Yeah, it takes way too long for that monster-slaying to happen, but personally I'm hoping for some sequels, as this seems more like an origin story than anything else. And yes, they try to hard to make it something special instead of letting it happen naturally, but it was still enjoyable. Good performances all around (the omnipresent Robert Englund, who I think is in half the movies I've reviewed here, is particularly good this time out). Trevor Matthews plays Jack with a certain degree of restraint that keeps it from going TOO gonzo (he reminds me a little of Jason Lee). Decent (non CGI!) effects, coherent script, and just a fair amount of fun overall.

Seven Stars - ******

Before any of you pinkboys point out that Quarantine is a remake of the Spanish film [REC], I need to point out that I don't give a rat's rosy red ass. I'm sure that's a wonderful movie, and I'll see it eventually, but I'm not going to let this turn into one of those "oh, the foreign original is SO much better" hatefests. Save that for your Eurotrash and movies where big-eyed Japanese girls crabwalk toward their victims. I enjoyed Quarantine quite a lot. It was genuinely scary and suspenseful in spots, and I don't see that with a lot of movies these days. The acting was good, the pacing was great, and the whole thing had a kind of claustrophobic feeling that we haven't seen since John Carpenter's heyday with things like Assault on Precinct Thirteen. Yeah, there's a bit of shaky hand-held camera work that may bother a few folks, but hey, I'm Mr. Vertigo, and I didn't have a bit of trouble with it (or with the Blair Witch Project, for that matter). This is a good one to watch if you want your significant other to cling to you out of the heebie jeebies.

Seven Stars - *******

Feast 3 - Look, I'm not going to go into any great description here, because there is truly no way to describe the work of John Gulager. If you haven't seen the three Feast movies, go out and rent them today and watch them all in succession (but DON'T watch #3 if you haven't seen the previous ones). Suffice it to say, Gulager doesn't make horror films like anyone else on the planet. The guy is fearless, showing things on screen that just make you literally say "oh, no, he's not going to...he's wouldn't...oh, my gosh, the @#$% actually showed that!" The basic premise is as simple as can be: there are a bunch of monsters out there, and they're killing people. What more do you need? But between the mayhem and the bloodshed and the breaking of the fourth wall and the use of John's dad, Clu Gulager, and the midget luchadores and Henry Rollins and the lesbian bikers and the armless samurai and the mentally challenged cleric and the baby...oh, lord, the baby...well, just watch 'em, gang, then report back to me.

I salute you, John Gulager.

Rating - Unratable (but so damned entertaining).

Where Goofiness Dwells!

2009-04-14T15:57:00.000-07:00

Like most of you, I'd had a lifelong love affair with monsters (no, this is not a commentary on my past relationships), and one of my favorite comics as a kid was Marvel's classic reprint anthology, Where Monsters Dwell (and, in fact, the piece from Common Grounds that was nominated for Best Short Story was my homage to those wacky tales, "Where Monsters Dine"). Those plus-sized creatures really stirred my imagination, and left an indelible imprint on my various body parts. One of the wildest thing about them were the covers. Let's take a look at some of this wonderful, beautiful goofiness.

WMD #2 featured Sporr, who sounds like he'd be great to smear on an open wound. What grabs me about this cover image are the folks down front trying to bar the castle door so Sporr can't get out, when clearly his limbs are all over the place, and barring any great lack of upper body strength, I'm pretty sure he could lift his big red ass out of there. And you'll note the title features the popular "I Created..." statement. I think Stan liked having these guys be the architects of their own demise (though in the end they always seemed to outsmart the monsters; giant pseudo-octopi are scary, but not necessary Mensa members).

Here's WMD #3 with our old buddy Grottu. No, I'm not exactly sure why a giant ant would be called Grottu either, but then he probably doesn't know why a human would be called Englebert Humperdinck. Gotta love the caption: "You think it's a typical day. You walk down the street." Yeah, and then you come face to crotch with one gi-normous picnic pest! And like almost all of Marvel's big monsters, whatever their type, origin, etc., he's a bi-ped. I think at the end of the issue he's burned up by a giant bully with a magnifying glass or something. Hey, check out the girl on the bottom right; is it me, or does she look like the X-Men's Jubilee in her Robin-esque duds?

I tended to buy a lot of issues of WMD from the drugstore around the corner from my barber. My dad would take me to get my haircut, then let me run over and buy myself a funnybook, and they tended to be one of these. This one above, WMD #9, was one of those. I'm not even sure if "Bombu" looked anything like this in the story (I seem to recall being disappointed that he was just some jive-turkey witch doctor or somesuch). He doesn't look all THAT great on the cover. Check out his eyes; I think he's falling asleep in mid-menace!

WMD #8 - No, I'm not sure what's going on here, either. Apparently this loser has stumbled into the Crypt of the Four-Armed Men. Uh...if it's a crypt why are they ostensibly alive? And what's so intrinsically scary about dudes with a couple extra limbs? They can give you a beat-down twice as fast? He should have known they'd sense his presence, though, because as we all know, to be four-armed is to be forewarned...

Everyone knows Groot from WMD #6, and I'm pretty sure he's probably made recent appearances (in comics I don't have). Funny how a tree monster would be named "Groot," eh? Sure, quite a coincidence, but it beats the hell out of a giant ant named Grottu! Notable here is the guy who is apparently going to defeat Groot, a fella with the testicular fortitude to stand right in front of the Arborial Asskicker and TELL him not only that he's going to open up a can of weed killer on him, but WHEN he's going to do it! Apparently Groot's not the only one with some major wood...

WMD #10 was another of my barber shop comics, and I have such a memory of lying on the basement floor and reading this when I was probably five or so. Gigantus was a very cool sea monster of epic proportions (and I think maybe an alien), but I felt very embarrassed for him, given the way we puny humans defeated him. They got a special FX guy to build basically a paper mache version of an even BIGGER monster (who looked a bit like It the Living Colossus), and had it "tell" Gigantus that it and its kind were going to take over the planet, so Gigantus had to high tail it out of there. If Gigantus had just bothered to take a close look at this thing, he would've instantly seen it for what it was, but I guess he left his glasses in the briny deep.

In WMD #4, we have more in the "I Created" vein, and this goober apparently made a monster in his cellar. What seems strange about that notion is that he seems to be coming down the stairs with a flashlight, and is surprised by the creature. Hey, buddy, you just told us not only that you were responsible for it, but where it is! Don't plead ignorance now! By the way, I have to say that the monster in question does not exactly fill one with terror. He's kind of like a muppet that the Hensons left on some dressing room floor.

Finally, from WMD #11, we have...Gruto (all the nonsensical conglomerations of syllables in the world, and Stan gives us "Gruto," "Grottu," and "Groot"?). I have to call shenanigans on this one, though, as he's billed as "the creature from nowhere." Well, he seems to be clearly coming out of a hole, doesn't he? So isn't that where he's from? In their defense, though, I'm not sure I would've picked up a comic featuring "Gruto, the Creature Who Came Out of a Hole!" It also asks us to guess the strange secret of Gruto. I'm guessing probably psoriasis, halitosis, or possibly even mild incontinence.

Anyway, that's enough for now, but we'll revisit WMD soon, as there's lots more to see. Now get out there and save a small town from a giant eggplant, you slackers...

New Column Up!

2009-04-14T15:44:00.001-07:00

I have a new column up over at Newsarama, dealing with my convention experiences (comic cons, that is, not my turning tricks with the Elks). Check it out here, and please leave some comments (I think a lot of folks end up not even knowing these have been posted).

Troy Hickman's Middle Name is Douglas

2009-04-03T10:06:00.000-07:00

(This is for my class; ignore it, the rest of you folks).

Twilight Guardian Up for CGS Awards

2009-01-21T17:54:00.000-08:00

I mentioned this over at the TG blog, but for those who don't frequent it, Comic Geek Speak was kind enough to nominate TG for "Best New Hero" and "Best Sleeper Hit/Surprise." If you're interested, you can vote for her here.

Also, here's the cover for the upcoming Pilot Season 2008 trade paperback:

New Column At Newsarama

2009-01-15T17:22:00.000-08:00

The fine folks at Newsarama have asked me to contribute to their blog section. The first entry can be found here. Let me know what you think!

In Vancouver, Home Soon

2009-01-02T10:08:00.001-08:00

What? What other info do you need, pinkboy?

Free Comic Readin'!

2008-12-16T08:06:00.000-08:00

I found a comic I wrote back in the Jurassic Period for Tyim Courts' Narcoleptic Man. Check it out here!

Quiz Kids

2008-11-16T19:04:00.000-08:00

I asked the kids in my classes a question: do you believe your generation is more intelligent than, less intelligent than, or equally intelligent as your parents' generation?

Some said their parents' generation had more common sense. Some said they're equally intelligent, but today's generation is much lazier, so they do less with it.

I was struck the most, though, by the number (about half) who said that their generation is more intelligent because of the technology we have today. It suddenly dawned on me that these kids view the exponential development of technology over the last few decades as THEIR OWN. They see the advent of computers and DVD players and Blackberries as evidence that they're a quantum leap beyond their predecessors.

Ah, but it was time to throw a monkey wrench into that ointment. When I asked them, by show of hands, how many of them can build a computer or DVD player, though, or if they'd be able to repair their Blackberry if it went belly up, the room was strangely silent.

What they fail to realize is that they're merely the recipients of the magic boxes, the beneficiaries of technology which requires little beyond the memorizing of which buttons to push in what order (something "lesser" primates have been doing just fine for years; these kids got nothin' on Koko the gorilla).

Y'know, our parents and grandparents may have had nothing more sophisticated at their disposal than indoor plumbing and a rusty Studebaker. But my dad could fix that plumbing when it went wonky, and my grandfather could put a new water pump in that Studebaker when the old one breathed its last.

I just quoted the great Robert Heinlein in my last post, but another bit of his wisdom comes to mind at this moment:

"A human being should be able to change a diaper, plan an invasion, butcher a hog, conn a ship, design a building, write a sonnet, balance accounts, build a wall, set a bone, comfort the dying, take orders, give orders, cooperate, act alone, solve equations, analyze a new problem, pitch manure, program a computer, cook a tasty meal, fight efficiently, die gallantly. Specialization is for insects."

And sometimes, especially here lately, I find myself sitting up in the middle of the night, worried that the colony just keeps on growing...

Bob Got It Right

2008-10-29T21:05:00.000-07:00

"The America of my time line is a laboratory example of what can happen to democracies, what has eventually happened to all perfect democracies throughout all histories. A perfect democracy, a ‘warm body’ democracy in which every adult may vote and all votes count equally, has no internal feedback for self-correction. It depends solely on the wisdom and self-restraint of citizens… which is opposed by the folly and lack of self-restraint of other citizens. What is supposed to happen in a democracy is that each sovereign citizen will always vote in the public interest for the safety and welfare of all. But what does happen is that he votes his own self-interest as he sees it… which for the majority translates as ‘Bread and Circuses.’

‘Bread and Circuses’ is the cancer of democracy, the fatal disease for which there is no cure. Democracy often works beautifully at first. But once a state extends the franchise to every warm body, be he producer or parasite, that day marks the beginning of the end of the state. For when the plebs discover that they can vote themselves bread and circuses without limit and that the productive members of the body politic cannot stop them, they will do so, until the state bleeds to death, or in its weakened condition the state succumbs to an invader—the barbarians enter Rome."
— Robert A. Heinlein (To Sail Beyond the Sunset)

My Favorite Ebay Description Ever

2008-10-27T11:29:00.000-07:00

From a current post selling the Rush album Signals:

This LP is the ninth studio album by the Canadian rock band Rush, released in 1982 . Signals was the follow-up to the successful Moving Pictures and highly influenced by Geddy Lee's input. Stylistically, the album was a continuation of Rush's foray into the technology-oriented 1980s through increased use of electronic instrumentation such as keyboards, sequencers, and electric violin. The album reached #10 on the Billboard album charts and was certified Platinum. The opening trackfrom Signals is "Subdivisions." The track would become a staple of the band's concert setlists for many years. "The Analog Kid" and "Digital Man" served as the inspiration for writer Troy Hickman to create the comic book heroes of the same name, Digital Man and Analog Kid, in the 2004 comic Common Grounds. "New World Man" would become an FM radio hit for the band. The song was written and recorded at the end of the recording sessions. This LP is getting harder to find now, especially in this EXCELLENT CONDITION !

I Wish!

2008-10-24T12:06:00.000-07:00

I would wear the banner proudly!

The Trippy History of Troy Hickman

2008-10-17T22:43:00.000-07:00

Hiya! Sorry I haven't posted much here lately, but as you may have heard, Twilight Guardian won the Pilot Season voting, and I've been spending a lot of my free time on interviews and such for a while.

I'm back, though, and I thought what I might start doing, along with the rest of my usual goofiness, is present some of the oddities from my small press days.

This time out, I'm going to show you a very odd piece that I did with Max Traffic some, I dunno, fifteen years ago? Max asked me to write eight pages of text to go along with his rather psychedelic artwork, so I did. What resulted was mighty peculiar. Check it out (you can click on 'em to enlarge them). Artwork (c) Maximum Traffic

2008-09-18T07:44:00.000-07:00

Oh, Heck, Why Not?

2008-09-09T11:29:00.000-07:00

http://www.inews3.com/topstory.php?id=54726f797c4869636b6d616e

Help!

2008-09-08T14:39:00.000-07:00

Gang, we have something like six hours left. If you haven't voted yet today, please do, and if you know anyone else who can, please hit them up for it.

Vote for Twilight Guardian here.

Thanks for any help, and for all the aid you folks have given me so far.

You're the best.

Quick, Kato, to the Hickmobile!

2008-08-30T11:55:00.000-07:00

Just bought a used Mercury, and I'd thought Lea might like to see it (but you folks can look, I'm not shy).

I hate buying cars because (A) I'm massively cheap, (B) I'm massively poor, and (C) you never know what you're going to get.

Hopefully this one will last me for a while. The pictures don't really convey the sportiness of this one. I feel like Batman when I drive it.

Read Twilight Guardian For Free!

2008-08-29T19:24:00.000-07:00

If you haven't read it yet, gang, Newsarama is running the entire first issue here.

Check it out, and if you are so inclined, please vote for TG every day from now until Sept. 8 at www.topcow.com

Seeya!

In Case You Didn't Hear...

2008-08-20T11:14:00.000-07:00

Twilight Guardian is currently at #1!

Whoo-haaa!

This may not last long, though, gang, as the competition is turning up the heat, so if you can, please get out there and vote for Twilight Guardian every day from now until September 8th!

And thanks so much for helping us to get there!

Help Another Brother Out!

2008-08-15T10:26:00.001-07:00

While you continue to vote for Twilight Guardian once a day until September 8th here

...please also help out our pal Jay Chuppe by voting for his wonderful Red Mullet & Cowboy here

And for the also fantastic Gulch by Matt and Gabe White here

If you want great new comics, you've gotta support 'em, folks.

This message approved by Friends of Twilight Guardian.

Twilight Guardian #3 and closing!

2008-08-12T11:18:00.000-07:00

Folks, Twilight Guardian is currently third in the Pilot Season voting, and closing in on the vaunted #2 position. We just need to get out there and vote, vote, vote, and she'll get her own mini-series! Voting will continue from now until September 8, and you can vote ONCE PER DAY, so if you can, please get out there and help make this happen!

Keep Voting Twilight Guardian!

2008-08-09T11:21:00.001-07:00

Just rallying the troops, gang! Remember that voting last from now until September 8th. Vote early, often, and with great relish and vigor!

Vote Twilight Guardian!

2008-08-04T13:10:00.000-07:00

OK, folks, Pilot Season voting has begun!

EACH DAY, you can vote here or here (more sites later).

I need your help, gang. Vote every day if you can (voting last all through August) and if you can get your pals to lend a hand, that'd be great.

Thanks in advance for any help you can give.

I'm in Canada, but I'll be checking in daily with updates and such.

Vote Twilight Guardian!

Title Strangely Changed!

2008-07-31T16:30:00.000-07:00

That is all.

Rocque On!

2008-07-17T14:35:00.000-07:00

Good Ladies and Gentlemen, I beseech thee to cease beating your oafish servants long enough to enjoy musical merriment beyond reckoning at the cultured hands of the greatest hard rocque band in the world...The Upper Crust!

Ideas Are Scary Things

2008-07-12T17:27:00.000-07:00

Y'know, when the Nazis wanted to march in Skokie, I hated that there even WAS still such an abomination as that group in existence. But I believed that aside from them having the constitutional right to demonstrate, it was also the right thing to do if you're someone who opposes their brand of ignorance. The way to defeat evil is to bring it out from under its rock and let the light of truth get to it. I believed, and still do, that the hearts and minds of good men and women can see right through such hatred, and will reject it.

And when there was an effort in the 40s and 50s to ferret out the Communists in our society and silence them, that was simply wrong. There's probably no one in this country more anti-Communist than I am (they are, after all, possessed of one of the few mindsets that can actually be said to have caused the deaths of far more people than even the monstrous Third Reich), but again, I believe that the better angels of our nature will turn away from the Maos and Castros and Pol Pots of the world when we actually come face to face with their evil.

Y'see, folks, more than just about anything in the world, I believe in free speech. And no, I don't mean just the God-given right to speak ones mind; that's self-evident. No, I'm also talking about the belief that your own opinions have enough weight, substance, and truth to them that you have NO NEED to suppress the thoughts and ideas of your opponents.

I mention all this so that you have some context to the anecdote I'm about to relate.

Tonight I stopped in to our local Barnes and Noble bookstore to browse. While I was there, I walked by a display right up at the front of the store (in front of the info desk) marked "In the News." Ah, I thought, this sounds good. I'm all about topical issues and such. Let's see what they've got.

Well, gang, it's amazing what's in the news these days. There were approximately 45 non-fiction books on top of the table. They included books on how evil and/or incompetent George Bush is, why the war has been such a mistake and was tremendously mishandled, how capitalism is a bad idea, why man-made global warming is a FACT and anyone who says otherwise is either an idiot or a liar paid by corporations, why Barack Obama is the only choice for our next president, why the U.S. is more evil because of Abu Ghrab than islamic extremist are for beheading innocent people, and on and on.

Amazingly, almost everything in the news these days fits one political viewpoint! Imagine!

Of the books on the table, only three had any viewpoint that was not far left of center. One was by George Will. One was a biography of Ronald Reagan (although that was one of the few books on the table I haven't read any part of, so I guess it MIGHT have been critical of Reagan). The last one was a biography of Barry Goldwater (I assume that one was probably positive, as it was co-written by his son, although I guess if I made that same assumption about Mommy Dearest I'd be wrong).

Amazing. Out of 45 books on current politics, only three did not necessarily support a stereotypical liberal viewpoint. Wow, what are the odds, especially given the fact that according to the last couple of presidential elections and just about every poll taken in the last twenty years, this country is divided about 50/50 on almost every major issue.

Was this display a Barnes and Noble corporate decision? I assume not, since they DO carry books with dissenting opinions, and many of them sell VERY WELL. No, the judgment call to set up the display this way was obviously made by one (or maybe a few) of their employees.

So given everything I've said above, how little faith do you have to have in the strength of your beliefs that you are not willing to give the other viewpoints equal time? If, for example, man-made global warming is so obvious and "the debate is over" as Al Gore says, what's the harm in having even ONE book (out of the dozens and dozens in existence) that says the contrary right there alongside the half dozen that claim man-made global warming is a given?

And if you're someone who's reading this and you have the same beliefs as the authors of those 42 books on the table (and I probably agree with some of them, too), how do you feel when you read about something like this? Does it make you happy that folks who believe as you do are willing to stoop to things like this? Or does it make you as incensed as me? And if you had walked by that display tonight like I did, would you have even noticed the imbalance of opinions?

And if you do think it's ok, since it supports your views, ask yourself how you'd feel if it didn't. For example, what if you walked into a Walden Books or a Chapters and you saw a display that said "Opinions on Religion," and when you took a closer look, you realized that almost every book was about how Christianity is the only "correct" religion. Nothing there about Judaism, Islam, Wicca, agnosticism, atheism, nothing. Just "Jesus is the only way TO think" and that's it. You have a problem with that? I sure as hell would.

Ideas that have merit can stand or fall on their own. They should be given that chance, whatever they are. Only cowards need to literally or figuratively shout down their opponents, whether it's people trying to get "The Last Temptation of Christ" taken out of theaters, or college students not allowing a guest speaker to be heard.

Shame on them.

Let There Be Rock

2008-07-10T13:44:00.000-07:00

Continuing in our vein of people whose death really pisses me off, I've been thinking a lot about Bon Scott recently (yesterday was his birthday, in fact). As many of you know, I consider Paul Rodgers the greatest rock vocalist of all time, and that's a given. But when it comes to blistering hard rock, no one has ever touched me like Bon. No offense to Brian Johnson, who is a talented man, but the early AC/DC albums are a thing of beauty and a joy forever. Bon, buddy, I loved you, but to hell with you (and I know you'd like that) for depriving us of a lot of years of balls-to-the-wall rockin'.

Here's a little bit of Bon and the boys. I picked this one specifically for Lea (even though she more than likely can't watch the video):

Are You Kids Scared Yet?

2008-07-03T10:42:00.000-07:00

OK, I commented on the first episode of "Fear Itself" a while back. Since then there have been three more excursions into TV horror. Did it get any better? Well...

* "Spooked" - Eric Roberts stars as a dirty cop who gets haunted. There was some decent eerie imagery here, and truth be told, I've always kind of liked Roberts' performances (unlike his sis, he does have a lick of talent). But there was soooo much padding here, too. Look, folks, I'll say it again: a one-hour horror TV show is fine, but break it into shorter vignettes! Most of the plots you're dealing with here DO NOT need an hour to unfold. You end up stretching a 22 minute idea into 44, and it just tends to drag.

* "Family Man"- OK, this had a decent premise: a good father and husband is involved in a car crash with a serial killer, and their two souls trade bodies. Potentially suspenseful stuff, and there are a few decent moments. But the ending...sheesh. Newsflash: horror stories DO NOT have to end in a hopeless, nihilistic manner. That's not scary, just depressing.

* "In Sickness and In Health" - Probably the worst of the bunch so far, and almost totally because of the script. I think I've pointed out before that I'm not a plot guy, and Lea is very much the same. But five minutes into this, she turned to me and told me how it was going to end, and I said "Oh, if it does, man, am I going to be disappointed." And I was disappointed. Shame on you, Victor Salva, and not for your conviction of molesting (and videotaping) a twelve year-old boy (excuse me for sounding less than "progressive," but I can remember a time when sexually abusing a child might make folks in Hollywood a bit reluctant to hire you). No, shame on you because, criminal offenses aside, you have more talent than this crap. You made the truly scary Clownhouse, and the pretty darn good Jeepers Creepers movies (and the fairly craptastic Powder, actually). But this is the best you could do for your TV debut? Since the ENTIRETY of this piece hinged on the ending (a mistake), the worst thing you could have done was to make the conclusion easier to see coming than the Underdog balloon in the Macy's parade. And yet you did.

Sooooo...I'm not really digging this show so far. I'm pinning my hopes on tonight's episode, which is directed by Stuart Gordon (who, at the very least, directed a couple of movies twenty-odd years ago that I really dug). As Boris Karloff would say, only time will tell.

Either It Flams or It Doesn't

2008-06-27T19:45:00.001-07:00

Thanks for a lot of laughter, buddy. Catch you later.

I Love Funnybooks! #2

2008-06-25T10:50:00.000-07:00

OK, let's see what wonders from the Silver Age of comics we have today.

* First up is Our Fighting Forces #117. At one time OFF was a fairly standard war comic, but as with a lot of DC's non-superhero books of the 60s, fantastic elements began creeping in. Here we see Lt. Hunter and his Hellcats (I'll bet that named inspired fear in Uncle Adolf) being confronted by...uh...hell, I don't know. And neither did Hunter, as we see him yell out "Hellcats--what the devil are those things?!" It's an odd thing to exclaim. How should they know any more than he does? Is he expecting Light Fingers or Brute or Snake Oil (yes, those are their "battle names") to say "Lieutenant, those are the Snow Creatures of the Black Forest, created by the Nazi Cyclotron process! Didn't you get the memo?" And what the hell ARE those things? Some sort of frigid creature, ostensibly, but what's with the funky helmets? I think they're supposed to be standard German helmets, but the way they're drawn makes them look like fishing hats. And they seem to be wearing loincloths with ammo belts (but they have no weapons, far as we can tell). Good gosh, they must be those giant Nazi ice fishermen I've heard so much about!

* Here's Secret Hearts #103, one of those romance books that were a mainstay of the comics landscape at one time (though damned if I knew anyone when I was growing up, male or female, who read them). Picture here, far as I can tell, is Amy Ames, a recurring Ann Landers-type character who wrote the column "The Listening Heart." And what exactly is Amy doing here? Well, her dialog says "This is the only way I can stop Johnny from taunting me--!" What the hell? If I had known that the secret of getting girls to plant one on you is merely "taunting" them, I would have made Don Rickles look like Gandhi. Really, though, I think there's a lot more going on here than she's letting on. Look at the way Johnny's just lying there. Look at the way Johnny's eyes are closed. Look at the way she seems to have to hold up Johnny's head.

Folks, Johnny's dead.

Tune in next issue for more of "Amy Ames, Necrophile!"

* Ah, Mystery in Space #24, featuring the "Hitchhiker of Space" How could you not love this cover? This was the 1950s, so they certainly KNEW that a guy couldn't survive in the vacuum of space with just a FISHBOWL ON HIS HEAD, but they didn't care! It made for a cool image, and that was enough. I think the greater question is why the hell is this guy sitting on a tiny asteroid? Since he's hitchhiking, did the last spaceship that picked him up just leave him there, rather than on an actual planet or moon? I'm guessing the guy has shrimp salad and asparagus for lunch, so he was persona non grata.

The biggest mystery on this cover, though, is not how he got there, or how he's surviving in space, or even why there's a floating direction sign next to him. No, the real question is...who the hell coordinates their shirt to match their socks?

*Finally, we have the covers of Hawkman #11, 17 and 22.

What do these tell us? Well, mainly the fact that Hawkman fought waaaaayyyy too many villains in bad bird costumes. Hey, let me give you a lesson in superhero writings 101: Hawkman's main claim to fame is that he's a guy in a bird suit. That's largely it. Other heroes fly, other heroes use melee weapons, other heroes have female partners. Unlike most of them, though, Hawkman dresses up like a bird. So if you constantly put him up against OTHER bird men, it takes something away from what makes him unique, or at least uncommon. To put it in other terms, if Spider-Man fights the Tarantula, that's OK. But if the next six issues have him fighting Daddy Longlegs, Black Widow, Wolf Spider, Tunnel Spider, Cave Spider, etc., you're likely to say "hey, I'm dying for Will o' the Wisp here!" (well, ok, maybe you wouldn't say that).

Funnybooks!

Link To Your Blog?

2008-06-14T08:27:00.001-07:00

Y'know, it occurred to me that I only have a few links to other blogs. The reason for that is simply because no one has asked me to link to them, and I felt kind of funny just doing so without anyone's permission (though I guess if you didn't want folks reading what you've written, you probably wouldn't put it on the internet, don'tcha think?).

So if you'd like me to put you on my link list, please just let me know. You, too, could have nearly a dozen readers a year!

Lord, I Was Born a Ramblin' Hickman

2008-06-13T12:57:00.001-07:00

Some thoughts:

* I've been on a diet since April, and so far I've lost 22 pounds. I still have a long, long way to go, but I've never been more determined to get in shape, or been more certain that once the weight is off that I'll be able to keep it off. I'm thinking about taking all my ridiculously large clothes to the Goodwill, because I can say without any hesitation that I won't be needing them again (actually, I thought it might be fun to auction off a pair of my old giganti-jeans on ebay for charity, since so many folks over at the CoH boards like to talk about my pants for some reason).

My weight has fluctuated all my adult life, and I've weighed as much as almost 400 pounds and as little as 175. I think I've finally licked it, though (that's what SHE said!).

I'll probably periodically report my weight loss here as a way of having to answer to someone, always a good strategy. Spur me on, kids (which is a line that's undoubtedly been overheard at Neverland Ranch).

* Damn you, Mitch Hedberg. Y'know, I'm sure lots of folks are sad about Mitch's death a while back, but all I can feel about it is ANGER. Here was a guy with soooo much talent, so much comedic wit, and he @#$% overdoses and steals it from a world that could sure use more laughter. Mitch, I loved ya, man, and I'm sure you had your demons, but people with talent, REAL TALENT, have a gift. And while I think it's your right to do whatever you want with that gift, it sure pisses me off when someone throws it away, when it could do a lot of folks a lot of good. Wherever you're at, I'm sure you're cracking 'em up, but I sure wish it was here.

* I really love frozen fruit. No, I don't mean the stuff you buy already frozen in a bag. I mean buying fresh fruit and freezing it. A frozen strawberry is quite a delicious thing. A frozen peach is wonderful. Frozen grapes are a euphoric experience. And if you like bananas, try one frozen; it really brings out the sweetness. I can't eat a ton of fruit on this diet, but when I do, you can bet it's almost always been in my freezer (right there next to Walt Disney and Capt. America).

Who Do You Love?

2008-06-10T11:43:00.000-07:00

As you've no doubt heard, Bo Diddley died recently. What can I say in memorium to the guy that hasn't been said already? When a man is so influential that there's a freakin' musical beat named after him, what more needs to be said? With the exception of perhaps the great Les Paul and his namesake guitar, who else holds that kind of honor?

No, today what we do is, and no offense to you, Ozzy, but we shut up and enjoy the Bo Diddley:

Oh Ye Of Little Faith

2008-06-07T15:07:00.000-07:00

Hey, Neonox, buy my comics!

Where's "Trilogy of Terror" When We Need It?

2008-06-06T11:08:00.000-07:00

I watched the debut of "Fear Itself" on NBC last night. What a steaming pile of...er...television. The script was weak, the plot was skeletal (and if I have problems with a plot, you KNOW there's a problem), and the characters were a bunch of faces without personalities that I didn't give a rat's rosy red ass about. Beyond that, at times this thing was filmed so darkly that ANYTHING might have been happening on-screen, but damned if you could tell what.

I'd love to have a new horror anthology on television, but if Fear Itself doesn't get better pronto, it's not going to be that series. This is not a Night Gallery, a Dark Room, a Tales from the Darkside. So far it's more like a bloody, badly filmed version of Supertrain.

It does have ONE scary thing going for it, though. The next episode features Eric Roberts...

Twilight Guardian's Own Blog

2008-06-03T13:24:00.001-07:00

I've started another blog just to cover Twilight Guardian questions, comments, reviews, etc. Check it out here.

The World's All Et Up With Twilight Guardian!

2008-05-18T21:41:00.001-07:00

The book apparently comes out in two days!

Here's a preview of the first five pages

and an interview.

Huzzah!

It All Tastes Like Maple!!!

2008-05-12T10:06:00.000-07:00

I'm in Vancouver at the moment, so it may be slim pickin's blogwise for the next little while. How will the world survive??!!??

Here's what my view looks like, approximately:

Nice place, though I hate the crowds and the public transportation (buses are for rock bands and million-man marches).

There's a very nice comic shop called "Big Pete's" in North Van that I highly recommend. Pete and the gang are good people.

OK, off to hunt for Sasquatch (my long lost brother). Seeya later, masticators!

I Love Funnybooks!

2008-04-29T14:03:00.000-07:00

Challengers of the Unknown #1 - Y'know, comics are somewhat notorious for expository captions and dialog, and rarely will you see it more evident than this cover. "Our young captor from out of space left the top off our cage---and his household pet is going for us!" Thanks for the revelation, pal; I couldn't see the giant kid and his space-schnauzer there.

And why is the tyke from "out of space"? And hey, why does it have to be his "household" pet? What the hell does that mean? As opposed to the pet he keeps on his uncle's spacefarm? I love the Challs, I really do, even if their first issue used a sci-fi cliche that was old during the Great Depression. They were living on borrowed time. I'm just living on borrowed furniture.

My Greatest Adventure #7 - MGA was always one of my favorites, and not just because it eventually launched my beloved Doom Patrol. Just take a look at this cover, and marvel (er, DC) at funnybook greatness. The assemblage there (all in formal attire for some reason not clear on the cover) is unaware that he's a "cop from outer space." Y'know, I'd think the little green alien sitting on his shoulder might be a tip-off, but what do I know? And do you really need strange space-powers to outwit a criminal mastermind who can't think of anything better than hiding the incriminating weapon in a vase?

Justice League #51 - Ahhhh, few books from my youth grabbed me like the JLA. I ate up that stuff with a spoon, and went back for seconds and thirds. Looky here. We've got Zatanna either appearing out of, or basking in, a flame apparently coming out of a giant candle...which appears to be sitting on an alien landscape. Wha---huh? But wait, if it's a giant candle, why is the Atom so relatively large in comparison? That would imply it's a normal sized candle but...but...but...Norman, coordinate! And what's this about Elongated Man being the "surprise guest star"? He's ON THE COVER. Once you walk by the comic rack and see his stretchable mug staring back at you, it's hardly the sort of startling revelation that's going to give you a grabber.

Witching Hour #8 - Ooooh, spooky, kids. DC's mystery books of the 70s had a major effect on me (I think they may have actually spawned the unspeakable horror that I have become...or maybe it was Clutch Cargo). This cover completely boggles me. The old...uh...lady, I guess, locked in her room seems clueless as to the monster party going on outside, so she calls to Winifred. But who is Winifred? Is it the woman in the maid costume? And if so, why is Winifred apparently surprised by the old lady? And why is there a lock on the OUTSIDE of the old lady's door? Didn't she ever notice that before and say "hey, what's up with that?" And what kind of half-assed monsters are those, anyway? They're all assorted hues, like a pack of Chuckles or the result of a misused coloring book. It was nice of them to all dress up for the affair, though.

I love funnybooks!

Crushing Dog Heads and Crapping My Pants

2008-04-20T13:40:00.001-07:00

In an effort to get in shape, and hopefully put off my demise, I'm starting to walk again at night. I "got back on the horse" last night, and the solitude and night air were conducive to thinking about...stuff. Here are some of my thoughts:

* I love walking at night. It's something I've done for a large part of my life. It started when I was a teen-ager and would find myself up in the wee hours with nothing to do (and burdened with my own natural voyeuristic tendencies; I had to be watching SOMETHING). It's a lonely, lonely thing, though. In fact, my Twilight Guardian book (the new version of which comes out next month) came into being as a result of the feelings and experiences I've had while wandering the streets between midnight and dawn.

* I hate yappy little dogs. Don't get me wrong; there are few folks who love the canine species more than me. But those little noise-bags that won't let you pass by a house without alerting the entire neighborhood (and then continuing their barrage when you're three blocks away), well, I have to admit I feel like picking them up by their grapefruit-sized heads and crushing their lemon-sized brains. Does that make me a bad person? And why the hell are they so often Yorkies? Were they bred specifically to annoy?

* You have weird thoughts at 3 a.m. For instance, while I was walking, I suddenly felt some intestinal crampage and "the urge." At first I started to panic, thinking "my god, I'm a mile from home, and there's not a public bathroom anywhere near me." But as I kept walking, a weird solace overtook me. I began asking myself what is the worst thing that could happen. I could crap my pants? And it occurred to me that even if I did, who would know about it? I was walking around a dark neighborhood in the middle of the night. If the "worst" happened, it would just be a sloshy kind of walk home, followed by considerable, but private, clean-up. The only hitch would be if the police happened to stop me on the way (a pretty common occurrence when you walk through residential neighborhoods at this time of night). The whole thought process made me cognizant of just how much our lives are affected by other folks and their knowledge of our faults, foibles, idiosyncrasies, etc. If we didn't feel constrained by a lot of that stuff, we'd probably have relatively stress-free lives. Imagine how you would live, how relatively free you would feel, if you were the last person on earth, and you could be completely YOU.

And no, I'm not suggesting that you crap your pants. Ewww.

Anyway, more walking reports to come. Time to go!

That Grills My Ass!!!

2008-04-14T16:19:00.000-07:00

Here's a new feature at SUAETO that will allow me to occasionally vent even more of my spleen: That Grills My Ass!!!

Our first installment deals with the concept of someone "giving back to the community." Around here, there's a very prosperous car dealer named Bob Rohrman. Bob has been selling cars in this area for many, many years, and he's quite a fixture in our community. Well, recently Bob donated 3.5 million dollars to my alma mater, Jefferson High School, and since then, I've heard numerous folks say...(pause as I steel myself)..."well, it's nice to see him give back to the community (or even worse, "it's about time that rich SOB gave something back!").

Look, you malletheads, let me do the math for you. Bob Rohrman sells cars. He provides the community with transportation, and in return you give him money for it. Right there, Bob and the community are even. Bob doesn't owe the community anything beyond that. HOWEVER...

(1) Because Bob has a large number of dealerships, he creates a great number of jobs in this area. Between his salesmen, mechanics, etc., he employs quite the array of folks. Score one for Bob.

(2) Because the folks he employs spend the money he pays them primarily in this area, that stimulates the local economy, which helps everyone. Score one for Bob.

(3) Because he has to pay substantial taxes for his dealerships and all that entails, the local and state government make a huge amount of revenue off his business, which pays for all sorts of services (and pays for probably 10,000 times more services than Bob himself ever uses). Score one for Bob.

And yet you assclowns can't see that Bob has "given anything back" until he actually cuts a check for 3.5 million dollars? You mealy-mouthed little government-teat sucking bags of crap. You're as clueless as you are spineless.

That grills my ass!!!

Four Poster Bad, Part 4

2008-04-14T11:34:00.000-07:00

OK, let's get right into it. First off is Allan Quatermain and the Lost City of Gold. Y'know, the titular character had been around for over a hundred years when this flick was made; you'd think they'd get it right by now. This was the sequel to King Solomon's Mines, and I'd like to think Solomon would've had the wisdom to cut this turkey in half (and no one would have intervened). Wasn't Chamberlain getting a little long in the tooth to capitalize on the Indiana Jones craze by this time? The poster is just as craptastic as the film. Check out the image of...uh...I guess it's supposed to be Sharon Stone, but it could just as easily be Shelly Long, Audrey Landers, Estelle Getty, hell, I dunno. There's also the Arab-looking fellow who doesn't seem to know how to wield a knife (careful there, Farhat, you're gonna lose a digit!). And who are the guys at the bottom in the hoods and skirts? Half Klansmen, half 60s gogo dancers? The best part, though, is on the middle right. See him? It's Richard Simmons! He's making the gogo klansmen sweat to the oldies! Go, Richard, go!

Next up we have Backfire. And before you ask, no, I don't remember this movie either. It apparently stars Keith Carradine and Karen Allen, and the plot is listed on the Internet Movie Database thusly: " A shell shocked Vietnam Vet is driven over the brink by his greedy wife and her boyfriend." Ah, I see. This is what is usually referred to by cinema devotees by the technical term "the kind of movie Hickman won't bother watching." I think the main question viewers of the poster probably found themselves asking was "who the hell's legs are those?" They're clearly not Karen Allen's (unless she grew a foot for the movie), and presumably they're not Keith Carradine's (although it's possible, due to genetics; not too many folks know that John Carradine had a fine set of gams and was one of the original Radio City Music Hall Rockettes). It appears that the young lady in question here is also going commando, which I guess is supposed to be titillating, but it just keeps making me think about yeast infections.

Ahem. Blue Monkey."While working in a greenhouse, a man receives an insect bite after touching an exotic plant. Immediately, he falls ill and is taken to an emergency room where the doctors diagnose him as suffering from an unknown bacteria, and a strange parasite which emerges from his mouth as a large slimy wormlike creature. Soon, there are more cases of bacterial infection, but the more immediate problem for the hospital is the wormlike creature which after accidental exposure to a genetic growth stimulant grows to monstrous proportions and starts a reign of terror and bloodshed in the hospitals abandoned wing."
...

Where the hell is the blue monkey???

And why does the head on the poster look like some kind of animatronic thing you'd see at Chuck E. Cheese??? And what are those things on the side of his head??? Have his mutton chops gone rogue???

I'm fairly sure Blue Monkey is a flavor of slushy.

Finally we have Creepozoids (and if you have creepozoids, I'd recommend Tuck's Medicated Pads). Well, the poster seems to be attempting to make this flick look like an Alien rip-off, which is what it is. The monster is really, really badly painted, though, so it COULD be the monster from Alien, or it could be...um...Sharon Stone, Shelly Long, Audrey Landers, Estelle Getty, I dunno. It really doesn't even look like it's on the same plane of existence as the human figures, like it was cut out of a different poster and pasted on as an afterthought. To be fair, though, the humans are not exactly Maxfield Parrish-level, either. Check out the macho dude, protecting the ladies by heaving his pecs at the monster. And the woman in the center is so frightened that her buttons have, in a Casper cartoon fashion, jumped up, screamed, and left her shirt. Most disturbing is the prone woman, however, who disregards the monster entirely in favor of an attempt to suckle at her homegirl's now exposed bosom. Hey, lady, I like a glass of milk as much as the next guy, but there's a time and place for everything.

Tune in next time for more Madison Avenue garbage that didn't put a single ass in a seat.

Whathefu---huh?

2008-04-09T11:11:00.001-07:00

So excuse me if I'm wayyyy behind the times here, but I was just reading some stuff about Ayn Rand's phenomenal Atlas Shrugged when I came across...THE RUMOR. I'd like to think it's a leftover April Fool's joke, but apparently not. No, Hollywood is all set to make Rand's masterpiece into a piece of cinema (assuming cinema is French for "feces") and the two leads are to be played by...Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie. Excuse me, Hollywood? Shouldn't you be busying yourselves elsewhere with telling us why Castro is actually a saint rather than a monster, or writing George Clooney's next self-absorbed smugfest Oscar speech ("America didn't even know there WERE black people, until we in Hollywood set them straight!")?

But no, you choose instead to take one of the most brilliant novels of the last century and cast it the same way you did with Mr. and Mrs. Smith. I read a blurb on the IMDB where the film's plot was referred to in this way: "a powerful railroad executive, Dagny Taggart, struggles to keep her business alive while society is crumbling around her." Huh? That's like referring to Of Mice and Men as "slow guy pets rabbit."

I don't know how to break this to you, oh great Hollywood elite, but Atlas Shrugged is primarily about objectivism and rugged individualism and the notion that FOLKS HAVE THE RIGHT TO KEEP WHAT THEY EARN. Have any of you actually read the book? I'm guessing not, since the idea of self-determination rather than government control is anathema to most of you. You use your award nights to grouse about funding to the National Endowment for the Arts. Do you have any idea where Ayn Rand would've told you to stick your NEA?

I can't say I'm surprised, though. The last time Hollywood attempted anything Rand-related was the atrocious cable sleazefest The Passion of Ayn Rand, in which they turned the life of one of the most important writer/philosophers of our time into something that should've starred Shannon Tweed rather than Helen Mirren. It was a shoddy attempt to cast negative light on Rand's beliefs through some seedy sex drama. Blech.

And now they want to tear down Atlas Shrugged in a similar manner. "A powerful railroad executive, Dagny Taggart, struggles to keep her business alive while society is crumbling around her"? It's not a corporate drama, you mallet-heads. The reason society is crumbling in the novel is because the folks who keep it running (i.e. the folks who actually get off their asses and produce things) have decided they're fed up with being overtaxed and underappreciated. And you pinkboys seem to want to turn it into another John Grisham whine-fest. Wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong.

Maybe after this flick is made, the director can take a cue from Howard Roark, protagonist of another Rand novel, The Fountainhead, and blow the crap out of every print of the film.

Sheesh.

Slacker SOB!

2008-04-08T15:51:00.000-07:00

Sorry I haven't posted in a couple of weeks. Been busier than a crazed weasel on crack. This will change very soon. Now, go about your business.

TMI

2008-03-19T11:17:00.001-07:00

I've been asking myself whether I want to incorporate more of my personal life into this blog. For the most part so far, I've dealt with STUFF: pop culture, movies, tv, comics, etc. Occasionally I've mentioned a bit of my daily Hickmania: my son, my love for Lea, etc. But even that has been kept on a pretty surface level. Now, some of you folks know of my love for any sort of autobiographical material, and my almost compulsive drive to be self-revelatory, so I'm torn as to, as Mr. Bob Seger would say, "what to leave in, what to leave out." Over there on the right-hand column, I've posted a poll. Let me know what you think.

Nananananana, Today is My Birthday!

2008-03-10T12:00:00.001-07:00

Happy Birthday!

I'm not getting older. I'm getting more distinguished. And also older.

What's Big and Furry and Goes On a Rampage? No, Besides Me...

2008-03-01T15:58:00.000-08:00

Y'know, when I was a kid, I watched a ton of monster movies, especially on the weekends. Besides my beloved Sammy Terry on Friday nights, there was Baron von Wolfstein a few years later, and the incredibly eerie Creature Features, which somehow was able to scare the bejeesus out of us all with only a picture of Lon Chaney from London After Midnight and Henry Mancini's chilling theme from Experiment in Terror. Moreover, Channel 32 would pepper their Saturday and Sunday line-ups with various movie shows like Screaming Yellow Theater, Sci-Fi Theater, and others. It was during those years that I grew to love Godzilla, Rodan, Mothra and the rest of the Toho crew. It was also during those years that I first saw a little film called Carnival of Souls that stayed with me for the rest of my life (and I'm not the only one).

There were other movies shown at that time that equally affected me and have crept and crawled and slithered around my consciousness since then, too. One of them was a movie that, at the time, was probably called "Invasion of the Animal People," one of the English titles it was given. The name for it I prefer, though, is Terror in the Midnight Sun, and folks, let me tell you the images from that film have branded themselves into my psyche and refused to let go for almost four decades.

Terror in the Midnight Sun (or Rymdinvasion i Lappland, aka "Space Invasion of Lapland," if you prefer) is a Swedish film from 1959 about an alien craft that lands on Earth and releases a huge furry creature that runs amok. That's really pretty much the plot. But that's really all that it needs. The real drawing point of the film is in (A) the beautiful scenery and cinematography of the snowy slopes and tundra, filmed in glorious black and white, and (B) the creature himself.

And let's talk about the creature. What a marvelous creation, especially for the late fifties. I saw a blog where a guy referred to him as "Spitbacca" (I guess like the lesser cousin of Chewbacca), but that really doesn't give this big ol' lug the respect he deserves. The monster here is approximately 12-15 feet tall, and to simulate it, the FX team (such as it probably was at the time) built a number of half-sized dwellings for him to tear up. Because they're to about half-scale, though, they make the whole rampage look much, much more real than your standard giant monster flick.

Beyond that, though, the creature just looks cool with his fur-covered body (this guy could give Cousin It a run for his money), his bizarre clawed hands, his sort of cloven feet, and those cute little boar-like tusks coming out of his mouth. I really dig his close-ups, too, as you can see both the humanity in his eyes and a sort of dog-got-caught-peeing-on-the-rug kind of look.

There's even a cool scene at the end where the villagers chase down the creatures with torches, but since this is Lapland, they're all ON SKIS!

Unfortunately, American distributor Jerry Warren messed with the flick in U.S. distribution, adding inexplicable new scenes, and tossing in John Carradine for star power and not much else. Try to see the "real" version if you can.

Below is a clip from the film, and you can watch the whole thing for free at lycoscinema.com (it's in the public domain). If you're the monster movie nut that I am, you should check it out. Maybe it'll stick with you like it's stuck with me.

Four Poster Bad, Part 3

2008-02-29T11:44:00.000-08:00

OK, let's get right into it. Today we look at some truly awful movie posters of the year 1977.

First off, we have Al Pacino in Bobby Deerfield. Y'know how I know that? Because it's all the poster says! Who designed this...Pacino's mother? I have to assume that maybe at the time Pacino was considered something of a hit with the ladies, because I can't see this poster putting asses in seats unless you find Al really, really attractive. It makes no sense, either, as the film features race car driving, terminally ill women, all sorts of stuff that'd just light up a movie poster. And yet they go with Al's big ol' mug instead. But hey, we know that the movie features Al Pacino...as Bobby Deerfield. Yup. Sure does. Al Pacino. Bobby Deerfield.

Next up is The Car, and it's a movie about...well, I think you can figure it out. Anyone notice the problem with the poster though? That's right. Not a car to be seen. Instead what we get is a big, black space right in the middle. Hey, it's the first movie poster designed with Stevie Wonder in mind! It's really kind of a shame, too, as the titular car is actually a very sweet ride: a black 1971 Lincoln Continental Mark III customized by the famous George Barris (who also designed the TV version of the Batmobile). I'm not sure exactly what happened here. Maybe there was supposed to be a car in the shot and something went wrong? Maybe the car IS in the pic, but it's soooooo dark that it's impossible to see? Maybe the poster art was accidentally left in Detroit, and someone stole the car? I dunno. Since James Brolin is the star of the flick, I like to think he turned off the car's headlights to facilitate running down Barbra Streisand...

Now we come to Exorcist II. I'm not going to go into the movie itself, since I think most of us know what a crapfest it is (supposedly Satan paid $75000 to have his name taken off the project). No, let's just stick to the poster, which is equally wretched. Do we get scenes of heads spinning, or pea soup-spitting, or cross violation, or even that creepy silhouette under the streetlight like in the original Exorcist poster? Nope. That would be crazy. What we get is the most logical choice: a big ol' headshot of Linda Blair. Hey, you geniuses in marketing, someone needs to tell you that this poster would only appeal to Rick James, and even he wouldn't take it home to mother. Ooooh, Linda Blair. Scary, huh kids? You know what's REALLY scary? That I sacrificed 103 minutes of my life watching Linda and Jimmy Van Patten in Roller Boogie...

Finally...ahem...You Light Up My Life. First, since I believe in full disclosure, I have to admit when this came out, back when I was all of thirteen, I thought Didi Conn was cute. Shut up. (This is where Lea starts speculating if it was the hair. Private joke) Anyway, where do you start with this poster? Is the image of two people walking barefoot on the beach going to have people rushing to the theaters? No, more likely it'll have them RUSHING TO THE BEACH. Hell, I look at this thing, and I immediately think of Mad TV's "Lowered Expectations" sketches. The worst part, though, is the tremendous graininess of the photo. Who snapped this shot...Abraham Zapruder? Light up my life, hell. Someone needs to light up the photoshoot!

An Adman Actually Got Paid For This One?

2008-02-28T16:36:00.000-08:00

Y'know, my son works at a Putt Putt miniature golf course during the summer, so I've become fairly familiar with the franchise. One of the most disturbing aspects of it is the mascot: Buster Ball. Yes, I said Buster Ball. Here he is now:
I think the same guy designed a specific version of Poppin' Fresh to sell Pillsbury's turnovers, and named her Poppin' Cherry...

And The Pursuit Thereof

2008-02-27T11:29:00.001-08:00

I'm in a sad mood today, so in an effort to combat it, here are a few of the things that make me, Troy Tiberius Hickman, happy:

Peanut butter and bologna sandwiches. I know a lot of folks find it odd, but there's no better sandwich in the world (I prefer it with crunchy peanut butter, by the way). Especially good with a glass of milk. I was first introduced to this by my Aunt Betty's third (fourth?) husband, Sonny Havens (which sounds more like the name of a retirement home than any other name I've ever heard).

Sci-Fi movies of the 50s/60s. Generally anything with a giant insect or a pulsating brain in it gives me a certain peace of mind. If you get a chance, check out a 1964 film called The Flesh Eaters, which was written and produced by Arnold Drake, writer of my all-time favorite funnybook series, The Doom Patrol. It's a really unusual film, and it's worth your while, trust me. It deals with an evil scientist, and this stuff in the surf that'll eat you all up, yum yum yum, and a square-jawed hero, and a scantily-clad woman, and a giant...uh...something monster, and a beatnik who speaks all that wonderful daddy-o dialogue that Drake seemed obsessed with at times. It's a gasser, man.

And while we're at it...The Doom Patrol. Was there a better comic...ever? Man, I love those old stories. The Chief, Robotman, Elasti-Girl, Negative Man...occasional appearances by Beast Boy and Mento...and the villains...The Brain, General Immortus, Madame Rouge, Monsieur Mallah, Gargaux, and on and on. And even when the book was canceled, they went out with a bang: the DP sacrificed their lives to save 27 people in the tiny village of Codsville, Maine. Without hesitation. They were heroes, my friends, heroes in a way that I wish more current comic book spandex types could be. If I ever write anything that folks enjoy as much as I enjoyed Doom Patrol, I'll be a pretty satisfied fella. And if DC ever wants someone to write a REAL Doom Patrol series again, they know where to find me (or maybe I'll find them).

Holding hands with Lea. There's really no way I can begin to tell you how this makes me feel. We'll be out somewhere, going to the video store, checking out some elephant-headed thing in 10,000 Villages, hell, just looking at big plastic junk at Walmart, and she'll be holding my hand, and I'll feel complete. Y'know, I'll gone most of my life feeling completely and utterly SINGULAR. Even when I've been with a woman, I've inevitably felt like it was still just me, only with a woman-shaped object filling the air next to me (heck, the years I was married were probably the loneliest I have ever experienced). When Lea and I are holding hands, though, I feel like part of a couple, and that's a pretty wondrous thing. Yeah, it's great, and tremendously important, that we all be individuals, but there's also a reason that we've been put on this planet with other folks, and that our brains and hearts get so oogy when we're with our "other half."

Seeing a script I've written turned into an actual comic book story. If you've never experienced this, I would strongly recommend it. For me, that's a large part of the magic of comics, at least from a creator's point of view. You write something, you send it to your editor, and in a relatively short amount of time, you get these pages back with your characters on them...your characters come to life through the efforts of some talented artist. I'm not going to be so pompous as to say it makes you feel like you're God (although the act of writing alone contains elements of that, to be sure), but it's about as close to a miracle for me as it gets. And the thing is, it never gets old. From the first time I saw my pal Doug Lumley delineating Yoyo the Dieting Clown, to the sketches I've seen so far for my upcoming Twilight Guardian comic, it never fails to give me a warm feeling in the pit of my stomach, like I've accomplished something. And when I think of the people I've worked with, people like Mr. George Perez (who became my favorite comic artist when I read HIS first real comics work, Creatures on the Loose #33, back in 1975), it pretty much makes me want to cry. I love creating, I love writing, but most of all, I love making comic books.

Anyway, I'm feeling better now, so I'll call it a day. A happy one.

Villain of the Week

2008-02-25T11:08:00.001-08:00

For the most part, I try to avoid going into political diatribes in this blog, since (A) the majority of my readers probably disagree anyway (hey, I forgive ya), and (B) it's rare that anyone changes their opinion based on a blog column.

Today I feel I have to say something, though, or else literally explode from the bile inside me. Are you familiar with David Suzuki? I've known of the guy for quite a while, and learned considerably more when I started my visits to Canada, where he's considered (by some) to be quite the national treasure. I've never particularly liked the guy, though I've always assumed he probably had the best intentions at heart (based on the fact that Lea has said some nice things about him in the past, and I trust her judgment).

Recently, however, the illustrious Dr. Suzuki has gone beyond even his normal utopian socialist underpinnings, and has firmly entered totalitarian territory. Recently he stated that politicians who disagree with the idea of man-made global warming and the policies it entails should be thrown into prison, and encouraged students at McGill University to find a way to do so.

Y'know, in my country, and I believe in yours as well, if we have a problem with politicians, we have a way of dealing with it. It's called democracy. We have regular elections that enable us to vote out the ones we don't want in there. What we don't do is imprison them. That's what they do in places like Cuba, Venezuela, the Soviet Union, China, and at one time, Germany.
Ever heard of those places, Dave?

No, the good doctor would rather ignore such places, and instead refers to his own Canuck homeland , a country that awarded him the Order of Canada, as "international outlaws," because they haven't bent over backwards quite far enough for he and his fellow followers of the Church of Radical Environmentalism.

Canadian writer Terry O'Neill said this of Suzuki: "It's long been abundantly clear from his speeches and books that his position is driven by both a quasi-religious zeal and a fundamental misunderstanding of the nature of humanity's relationship with the natural world."

Dr. Suzuki has also suggested that such decisions cannot be made by our elected officials, and instead should be made by a panel of scientists. Hmmm, a panel of scientists, Dave? Oh, I see. You want a scientocracy, run by a bunch of guys much smarter than the general populace and their representatives, right? A bunch of smart guys like...well, like YOU, Dave.

As pissed off as your comments make me, though, Dave, I'm glad you said 'em, because they shed the light on what you, and a lot of folks like you, really think and believe. For all your "open-mindedness," you're just as oppressive and narrow-minded as anyone and anything you've ever railed against.

Doc, according to your Wiki entry, you live in Kitsilano, right? Well, I spend much of my time these days in Vancouver, so I tell you what. Anytime you'd like a micro-demonstration of what free people think of little tin gods like yourself, I'd be glad to come over and plant my carbon footprint firmly on your compost heap...

Rave On

2008-02-23T12:09:00.000-08:00

I was just sitting here watching The Buddy Holly Story again. Y'know, I've watched this flick literally every time it's been on one of my TV stations. I cannot begin to say how much I love it, or just how good it really is. Gary Busey never has, and probably never will, give a performance as amazing as this one (although his reality show, Life with Busey, was a pretty sublime experience, with Gary delivering such Buseyisms as " Fear is the dark room where the devil develops his negatives"). Even more to his credit, Busey does all his own singing (which helps keep the film from turning into the travesty that Great Balls of Fire was). Let's take a look at a clip. Here Buddy has just been booked to play the Apollo, where the all-black audience is hardly expecting him:

Y'know, next year will be the fiftieth anniversary of Buddy's death, which a lot of people call "the day the music died." That's a lot of B.S. though. Buddy's music is as fresh and relevant and ahead-of-its-time now than it ever was. Nobody rocks harder. Buddy's still here, and the music just goes on and on...

1971? They had movies back then?

2008-02-20T12:55:00.000-08:00

OK, so the other day I wrote about Shoot 'Em Up, and how it evoked memories of Billy Jack, at least in terms of the "Don't be violent...smack!" mentality. Well, somehow the subject of the aforementioned halfbreed, Green Beret, kung fu fighting peacenik came up in one of my classes, and I was absolutely aghast to realize that almost no one in the room had ever even HEARD of Billy Jack!!!

This brings to mind three truths that I have learned:

(1) I am old.

(2) I really get cheesed by folks who don't have at least a fair knowledge of pop culture. You know the types; you ask them what they thought about last night's episode of Heroes, and in a Margaret Dumont accent, they say "Oh, so sorry. I don't own a television machine." Or you tell them you had a great time at the White Stripes concert the night before, and they tell you they couldn't make it because they were at a wine and cheese tasting party to celebrate Jean-Pierre Le Snoot's new composition, "L'âne Pour Un Chapeau." Even worse are the folks who don't even have the excuse of being an elitist snob; they just aren't able to remember anything that happens if it doesn't get reported on Nancy Grace or Entertainment Tonight. I just don't understand how you live in the same world as the rest of us, and don't really ABSORB something.

(3) I get even more cheesed by people who think the world began at exactly the moment they were born, and aren't concerned with anything that happened before then (because, well, NOTHING happened before then). I ran a blog entry sometime back about my students and their lack of knowledge about things like the Beatles, for instance, and the fact that a huge group of 'em basically said "Hell, I don't know, it was before my time." Well, y'know, almost EVERYTHING that has ever happened was before your time! Yeesh!

Billy Jack hit the theaters in 1971 (and did HUGE box office), which means it came out about fifteen years before my average student was born. To put that in perspective, it would like if I were completely and totally ignorant of the films of 1949, such as Sgt. York, The Third Man, The Fountainhead, Mighty Joe Young, etc. I know some of you folks are saying, "yeah, so?" To me, though, that's just a crazy notion.

I LOVE learning and knowing about stuff from the past. Hell, given my dissatisfaction with a lot of current culture, it's sometimes the most entertaining and enlightening stuff available. But when I ask the kids in my class what their ALL-TIME favorite film is, and most of the girls respond with "Legally Blond 2" and most of the guys say "300," it just makes me want to...go...well, like Billy Jack here:

Don't Hurt People...or I'll Kill Ya!

2008-02-16T23:24:00.001-08:00

So...I watched Shoot 'Em Up today, and really enjoyed it. The action was wayyyyy over the top, and that's just fine by me. As the kind of movie that the title implies, it was Grade A bang bang stuff.

The reason I'm writing about it here, though, is because of the none-too-subtle anti-gun message we get from the plot (or what there is of one; it has something to do with a politician and bone marrow and trying to kill a baby, but that's not really important...or comprehensible, really).

Given that, I'm nominating Shoot 'Em Up for the Tom Laughlin "I...go...berserk!!!" Award for most gratuitous violence in a film espousing non-violence. This award is named, of course, for Tom's portrayal of Billy Jack, the pacifist who turns the other cheek by kicking people through windows and giving them fatal karate chops to the neck.

In the case of Clive Owen's Smith character in Shoot 'Em Up, he assaults the 2nd Amendment and assuages his own guilt (there's some plot point in there about him selling a criminal the gun that was then used to kill his own wife and son...or something) by shooting, oh, I'd guess about 100 men. Jim and Sarah Brady salute you, my good man!

Maybe next we can give Chuck Norris the "Hugs for Thugs" award...

2008-02-16T10:08:00.001-08:00

Above is the cover for my new comic, Twilight Guardian, out from Top Cow in May, I believe. It's part of the Pilot Season voting, so I'll expect all you Hickmaniacs out there to vote, vote, vote later this year! (And bear in mind you're not limited to a single vote, so stay up nights and help the cause!).

Four Poster Bad: Part 2

2008-02-11T11:28:00.001-08:00

OK, let's have another edition of FPB (my original idea for today's post involved me scanning all the major scars on my body, but I'm saving that one for my birthday.

Anyway, to the matter at hand...

We focus first on Francois Truffaut's The 400 Blows. OK, great movie, and I'm a fan of Truffaut's work. The poster though...well, first of all "Angel faces hell bent for violence"? That sounds more like a blurb for Reform School Girl. Also, the adult man in the picture here looks like the bastard child of Nicolas Cage and the late Roy Scheider (not that it's a bad thing; it just unnerves me imagining the two of them making love, especially since Roy's death and all). Finally, a movie that's called The 400 Blows is already going to get jokes about being a porno film, so do we really have to make it worse by having the title on the movie poster getting fisted? Yeesh.

Now on to one of my all-time favorite movies, Abbott and Costello Meet Frankenstein. I've watched this movie every time it's been on television since I was about 4 years old. Just love it. This particular poster for it weirds me out , though, and for one simple reason. See Lon Chaney Jr. here as the Wolfman about to attack Lou Costello? Y'know why he's so pissed? Look carefully at what Lou's got in his hands. My god, he's neutered the Wolfman! Oh, Larry Talbot, the humanity...

Next up is Around the World in 80 Days. OK, fine film and all, but..."Michael Todd's show makes this a better world"? Criminy, and I thought George Clooney's Oscar speech about the nature of Hollywood was a self-important goonfest! "Makes the world a better place"? OK, sure, ya got your David Niven, ya got your Robert Morley, hell, you got your Noel Coward. But world-changing? Get out of the way, Bono, Cantinflas is shooting for your job!

Finally, the glory that IS Attack of the Fifty Foot Woman. OK, I have a special place in my heart for this late 50s schlockfest. It's cheesy, it's goofy, but heck, it's got a really, really big woman in it! And it's a hell of a lot more watchable than the Christopher Guest "remake" of the 90s. My main problem with the poster, though, is simply scale. Sure, a 50' woman is pretty amazing, but even more amazing is the relatively tiny city below. By my estimates, assuming the gargantuan babe is 50', the cars underneath her must be about 6' long, and the citizens must be about 23 inches from stem to stern. A fifty foot woman in a regular town is cool; a fifty foot woman in Tiny Town is just a bully.

I Watch Wayyyy Too Much TV

2008-02-05T14:59:00.000-08:00

Have you ever watched a TV show and thought to yourself "Boy, I'd like to live in THAT universe?" No? Well, of course not. You're not as messed up as me. Anyway, here are my Top Ten TV Universes In Which To Live:

10. Good Times - Now wait, let me explain. I couldn't stand living in the everyday Good Times universe, a truly insipid place (as I've said in previous posts, even though Esther Rolle railed against Jimmy Walker's character, he was the only thing worth watching on that awful program, a show that should've offended the HUMAN race). No, I just want to live on the very last episode of the show, the one where every single character suddenly realized their dreams, all at the same time! Yeah, what a bastion of realism, Esther.

9. Brisco County Jr. - I have a great fondness for the old west, and this show made it as cool as it has ever been. All the cowboy trappings, but plenty of gadgets, gizmoes, glitz and goofiness. Brisco, Lord Bowler, Sheriff Aaron Viva, and on and on. Saddle up!

8. Green Acres - I'm a great fan of Paul Henning's shows, and one benefit of living in his universe is that his productions all took place in the same world (with crossovers!). Green Acres would be my second choice of places to be dropped in the Henningverse. The simple life of Hooterville, the kindness of the residents, the breaking of reality, all of it would make life grand.

7. Heroes - OK, not as "pleasant" as most of my other choices, but it would be a world with superbeings, and that's enough for me (especially since I might be one of them). And I'm sure Hiro and I would see eye to eye on the hero philosophy.

6. Freaks and Geeks - Added here mainly because I just love the damned show so much. I'd probably fit right in, too, as I was a weird mixture of freak and geek in those years. I'd go there, as long as it didn't mean I'd spend eternity in high school.

5. Mystery Science Theater 3000 - Hey, you get to watch (and riff on) cheesy movies, you get to hang out with Joel (or Mike) and the Bots, you get to sing songs and make inventions and talk to TV's Frank and...hell, what's not to like?

4. Cheers - The song is right: sometimes you wanna go where everybody knows your name. You'd have friends, booze, pretzels, and no "very special episodes." Save me the corner stool.

3. Beverly Hillbillies - My fave of the Henningverse. The Clampetts are about as nice a bunch of folks as you'd ever want to meet. Granny would keep ya well fed, Ellie would take you swimming with her critters, Jethro would keep you entertained, and Jed would dispense his woodsy wisdom. And Mr. Drysdale is the bomb!

2. Leave It to Beaver - Mayfield is the very epitome of late 50s/early 60s America, with dances, football games, soda fountains, and just enough Eddie Haskell to keep things hopping. I wouldn't want to necessarily live in the Cleaver house (that'd be weird), but I'd sure love to be their next-door neighbors.

1. The Andy Griffith Show - Like this came as a surprise to anyone who knows me. If I die, I think I'd like Heaven to be a lot like Mayberry. Simple times, peaceful (except for the occasional escaped convict), and with a lawman like Barney Fife to keep things, well, nipped in the bud.

The Best Butt Ever!

2008-02-04T12:30:00.000-08:00

Brent Butt, that is. I've grown to really enjoy Corner Gas during my trips to Vancouver, and I'm glad we're getting it in the states now. Really sharp dialogue and excellent performances all around. And any show that argues the relative elasticity of Plastic Man, Reed Richards, and Stretch Armstrong is OK by me.
Check out their website.

This Pretty Much Says It

2008-01-31T12:34:00.001-08:00

Where on Earth is Troy Hickman?

2008-01-23T12:51:00.000-08:00

For those of you who have wondered, no, I was not on a mission in space, nor was I collecting attractions for my camel spider circus in Iraq.

No, the truth is that two weeks ago I woke up very, very ill. We think it was some sort of sinus infection-related problem, but whatever it is, it rendered me totally without equilibrium and unable to stand up. I was in Canada at the time, so Lea was able to take care of me until I was able to fly (which extended my stay by a full week). I'm still quite woozy, but I couldn't miss any more days of teaching, so I'm staggering my way through it.

A couple of things come to mind:

(1) When they say "as long as you've got your health," boy, they sure aren't kidding. As long as you feel relatively well, most anything else can be worked out. But if you don't...yikes.

(2) You'll never really know what love is until you have someone else taking care of you in every possible way. I don't know what I would've done without Lea over the last two weeks. I'm sure she was ready to kick me off the balcony a time or two, but she overcame the bloodlust and really got me through this. I love you, honey.

So that's my story. If you see me staggering around, know that I'm not drunk. This time.

Cyrus Thompson Meets His Creator...And Guess Which One Of Us Is Humbled...

2007-12-18T11:54:00.000-08:00

Troy Hickman stands beside the Cyrus Thompson statue in Kings Row (City of Heroes online game), and gets something in his eye...no, really, that's all it is...

Four Poster Bad

2007-12-06T17:31:00.000-08:00

Today we launch a new feature here at SUETO (sweet-o?) called "Four Poster Bad," in which I show you...uh...four movie...uh, posters...that are bad. If you buy the premise, you'll buy the bit.

The first one here is from that classic bit of 80s dreck, The Buddy System. I don't remember the plot, exactly, thought I think it had something to do with a truant officer who goes after a kid and somehow gets romantically involved with his single mom. Ya gotta love Hollywood. Or, maybe hate it. Anyway, this poster is notable for its giant faces of stars Richard Dreyfuss and Susan Sarandon, about to liplock each other. The most interesting aspect for me, though, is not the three inch tall child trapped between their respective craniums, but the true sexlessness of the way the two celebs are depicted. Maybe they should've called this "The Eunuch System."

I can just imagine the jackass who crafted this poster saying "Now, that'll put asses in seats! Everybody will be saying 'Will they ever get to finish that kiss' or 'Why is that tiny child trying to thwart true romance?' Everyone from eight to eighty will be lined up at the theaters!"

And then came Bronson. In this one, he plays a guy who
goes around killing people for revenge. It was truly a breakout role for him, unlike his other cinematic performances as ballet dancers and male models. Ya gotta love Bronson, especially in his later days. He was able to take a face like a plate of beef jerky and make relative stardom out of it. Here's a bit of the cutting edge dialog:

Rhiana Hidalgo: What are you going to do?
Holland: I'm gonna rattle his cage. And when he sticks his neck out, I'll nail him.

I love a metaphor salad. Anyway, my favorite part of the poster is the tagline under the title, which reads "It's 1984, and Bronson's never been hotter!" Ya gotta love a movie poster that actually charts its actors' star power. I'd love to see one that says "It's 1995, and Justine Bateman can't BUY a leading role!"

I just wish Chuck had lived long enough to make "Charles Bronson's Wuthering Heights"...

There's so much you could say about the Rick Springfield vehicle "Hard to Hold." I think the text on the poster says it all, though:

He's a rock star on a roll.

She's more into traditional music.

He wants the spotlight.

She wants the quiet life.

He lives for freedom and excitement.

She wants a commitment.

They're as different as two people could be...and as much in love.

Amen.

Italian director Lucio Fulci has directed some pretty cool films (such as the classic Zombi), but this flick, originally entitled "Manhattan Baby" (try selling that title to people stalking the video store looking for bloody horror) was not exactly a high point in his career. Even worse is the movie poster, which...well, hell, let's examine this. It's a woman standing in front of a pyramid in a see-through nightie. Well, ok, I guess some people really cover a distance when they sleepwalk, sure. But then around her are these spectral figures (who sort of have the faces of bulldogs) that don't seem to want to harm her so much as...well...they just look constipated. Is there a shortage of bran cereal in the netherworld?

I love the tagline "It's looking at you...from Hell!" Ooooh, scary. Hey, if all it can do from Hell is look at me, whoopty-freakin-doo. Heck, if I knew something was watching me from the underworld, I'd have a hard time not mooning 'em. Looky here, Satan-spawn! It's Hickman's big white hinder!

Anyway, that's it for now. Tune in next time for more...Four Poster Bad!

Big Ol' Jed Had a Rhino...

2007-12-03T12:45:00.000-08:00

Pretty soon I'm going to have to board a plane for Vancouver, and while I can't wait to get there, I don't look forward to the flight. Here are just a few of the things I hate about flying:

Departure times - There never seems to be a good one. Most of the time, I end up leaving Indy at 6am or somesuch. Why the hell is that? Do we have to sneak into the Vancouver airport under cover of dawn? I realize this is Indiana and all, but does that mean we're on the same "early to rise" schedule as the Clampett family? And why do they tell me to be at the airport two hours ahead of time when it usually takes me all of twenty minutes to get from the airport entrance, through all the security, to my gate?

Waiting at the gate - Because they've warned me to get there two hours ahead, I usually have about 90 minutes of time to fill while I wait to board. That's a lot of time to kill in a place with not much more than a news stand and a bathroom. There is a small arcade room, and I usually kill a couple of bucks and half an hour playing an archaic golf game (I think Nicklaus was a rookie when they made this thing). I bring an ipod with me (thanks, honey) and that keeps me occupied for a bit as I get caught up on my podcasts (most of them involve politics, wrestling, movies, or City of Heroes). I have to be careful about sitting down, though; since it's so early and I've usually gotten no sleep, if I'm not careful I could sleep through the boarding of my flight.

The Look - When I board the plane, I've very cognizant of the people already in their seats. While walking down the aisle, I tend to count the rows from where I'm at so I can guestimate where I'm sitting. When I finally get to my seat, I hate seeing the person already sitting in my row making that "oh, god, he's sitting next to me" face. Between my broadness and my somewhat bikery looks, I guess I'm not most folks' first choice for a person with whom to share a five hour flight. Just for the hell of it, I ought to bring a book with me entitled "Living with Leprosy."

Legroom (or the lack thereof) - Look, unless you pay the extra $$$ for the "plus" accomodations (or whatever they call that extra six inches of room), you're packed in like fans at a Who concert, and you feel just about that safe. I always sit next to the window so that I at least don't have to get up to let people go to the bathroom.

The Flight - Because I usually go Indy -Chicago - Vancouver, the long leg of the flight runs at least 4 hours. Now, that might be nothing compared to a New Zealand flight or something, but it's still one hell of a long time for someone like me to sit in one spot. I get bored. Oh, so terribly bored. If I'm lucky, I can sleep through part of it, but that usually only takes up about a cumulative hour. Then I have to pray that the in-flight movie is something I can hack. Fat chance, though. If my choices are, say, "Superbad," "Spider-Man 3," "Die Hard 4" and "Stella's Waiting to Exhale Fried Steel Magnolias," what movie do you think my flight is going to feature? Almost every movie I've ever been offered on a plane features either Julie Roberts, Nicole Kidman, or Sandra Bullock. I find myself being overjoyed when it ends up being some animated kids movie. The best part is that United, which I usually fly, features a sitcom or two after the movie, and it's usually The Office.

Waiting to get off the plane - What the hell is the problem? It shouldn't take half an hour to get my ass off a runway. And the folks getting their overhead stuff down...cripes! First of all, how much crap do you need to carry on? I see people bring on four items, then never once go to those parcels during the flight. There's such a thing as checked luggage, you know! I carry one small DVD player bag with me that has all my stuff in it (ipod, medicines, paper, pens, itinerary, etc.). It's small enough to fit under my seat, so I don't have to piss around with the overhead storage when it's time to...GET OFF THE @#$% PLANE!!!

I'll endure it all, though, every godforsaken moment of it, because the treasure at the end of it is worth any amount of struggle...

La Casa de Hickman

2007-11-30T11:38:00.000-08:00

Our living room has become the sanctuary for everything in the universe that walks, crawls, teleports, or lunges from its jet-propelled iron lung. Within those four walls, you'll find pretty much an interplanetary petting zoo of creatures, critters, rejects, DNA spills, and holiday elementals. Let me introduce you to just a few of the Living Room Gang:

Christmas Tree Guy (aka CTG, aka Arthur "Bushy" Thunderpants) - Christmas Tree Guy is the "glue" of the Living Room Gang, and so beloved in all our hearts. He was originally a demon from hell (along with his sister, American Idol's Melinda Doolittle), but one day Santa Claus came and rescued him, taking him to the North Pole to help with Christmas. Eventually CTG came to live with us, where he amuses us with his whimsical songs and dances. CTG always keeps a jelly bean and a nut under his hat in case he gets hungry (hence his song "Don't you wish you had jelly beans and nuts" to the tune of the Pussycat Dolls' "Don't you wish your girlfriend was hot like me"). When he was in hell, he ate Garvin, but we got that monkey off his back (Garvin is a food they give you in Hell; it's highly addictive, so that you won't try to escape). Recently CTG disappeared for a few months, and when he returned, we learned he'd been off helping Santa battle Satan and Insanity Claus in an epic confrontation. CTG is an amazing entity, and it's really impossible to look at him and not smile. He's brightened up a lot of gray days for us.

Valentine's Day Guy (aka "VDG," aka "Chester Q. 'Nurple' Gobstopper," aka "Malibu Pete) - Chester is an old friend of Christmas Tree Guy, and a fellow holiday elemental. He was in the recent war fighting alongside CTG, and showed up at our doorstep, saying that CTG had told him to stop by if he was ever in the neighborhood. He's been staying with us ever since. Chester is also a singer and dancer, and he and CTG will often do duets. Chester came to us with a long time drinking problem. He found himself drinking 3 or 4 very large Malibus every day, and was rarely sober. After an intervention by the Living Room Gang, Chester got on the wagon, and has been sober for over a month now.

El Jefe (aka "The Boss") - El Jefe is the most legendary luchadore of all time. He specializes in fighting monsters such as the Aztec Mummy, the wrestling robot, the amazon women (yeah, I know, but HE considers them monsters), and other perils from south of the border. El Jefe has a great love for American soda pop, and will drink voluminous amounts if allowed. El Jefe is very proud, and if he feels you've insulted him, he will often say "I chop at your neck, senor."

Junior (aka "Berjusa") - Junior is...well, he's a baby. But that doesn't stop him. Junior's favorite thing to do is kick you in the groin (or as he puts it, "right in the nutz," with an extreme umlaut over the "u" in "nutz"), then follow it up with the dreaded "T-Bag Combo Meal," in which he crotches you in the face with glee. Despite all this, Junior is still just a baby, and can be heard uttering phrases like "support my head," and, if caught doing something he shouldn't, "I didn't know; I'm just a baby." Junior has taken to wearing a overly-large t-shirt with a choo-choo on front (which he calls "the Pain Train") and a cape on his back proclaiming him a "Future Whopper Eater."

The Testiculoids - These three aliens, Nutty, Balsam, and Scrote-zilla, are from the planet Testicula. When they came to earth, a mistake in navigation trapped them in a claw machine at a miniature golf course for a while, until we won them their freedom. They initially rebelled and went about a devious plan to take over the world, but eventually they decided they were just as happy in our living room watching TV. For a while they were at odds with Junior who, of course, likes to kick nuts, and when you factor in that these guys are from the planet Testicula, well...

Dog with a Chicken on His Back - These guys came back with me from one of my trips to Vancouver. I really couldn't say no because...well, look at 'em. It's a dog with a chicken on his back. So far we've been able to discern the chicken's name is Rooster Cogburn, but we don't know for sure about the dog. In my mind I've been calling him Lucky Ned Pupper.

More later, including Roscoe, Lt. Extreme, Boss Hogg, and the rest!

For Whom the Nobel Tolls...

2007-11-28T11:24:00.000-08:00

Y'know, I got to thinking about Al Gore getting a Nobel Peace Prize, and rather than get in an uproar over an award that's almost always been a politicial machination, I started thinking about the folks who are, in my humble opinion, just as entitled to one as Der Woodmeister. Such as:

Michael Crichton - Hey, if Gore deserves one, then shouldn't his "player on the other side"? Crichton has written some brilliant stuff regarding radical environmentalism as a new religion, and it makes at least as much sense (oh, ok, it makes ten times more sense) as anything Senor Carbonfootprint has said to date.

Mahatma Gandhi - Yes, Gandhi, while nominated several times, was never awarded the Nobel Peace Prize. But Al Gore was. Y'see why these things mean so little?

Frank Capra - For my money, there may be no one else on the planet who has done more to shed light on the human condition, on the commonality that brings all men and women together, and on the hope we need to keep in our hearts. Here's just a small sample of Jefferson Smith as he speaks to the Senate in "Mr. Smith Goes to Washington":

"Now, you're not gonna have a country that can make these kind of rules work, if you haven't got men that have learned to tell human rights from a punch in the nose. It's a funny thing about men, you know. They all start life being boys. I wouldn't be a bit surprised if some of these Senators were boys once. And that's why it seemed like a pretty good idea for me to get boys out of crowded cities and stuffy basements for a couple of months out of the year. And build their bodies and minds for a man-sized job, because those boys are gonna be behind these desks some of these days. And it seemed like a pretty good idea, getting boys from all over the country, boys of all nationalities and ways of living. Getting them together. Let them find out what makes different people tick the way they do. Because I wouldn't give you two cents for all your fancy rules if, behind them, they didn't have a little bit of plain, ordinary, everyday kindness and a—a little lookin' out for the other fella, too…That's pretty important, all that. It's just the blood and bone and sinew of this democracy that some great men handed down to the human race, that's all."

The guy that invented that thing on pop machines that whips them up to waist level, sitting upright - Hey, I don't know about you, but if there's one thing I hate, it's bending over to get the pop out of the machine, only to find the bottle is stuck in there at some odd angle, or trapped by the little flap thingy, or---ugggh. The guy that came up with this simple but oh-so-welcome device has done a hell of a lot more for any of us than Al Gore.

On the other hand, Al did give us...uh...well, these quotes:

"He is proposing to privatize a big part of Social Security and he's proposing to take $1 trillion, a million billion dollars out of the Social Security trust fund and give it as a tax incentive to young workers."

"A zebra does not change its spots."

"We can build a collective civic space large enough for all our separate identities, that we can be e pluribus unum -- out of one, many."

While watching the Chicago Bulls: "I tell you that Michael Jackson is unbelievable, isn't he. He's just unbelievable."

If this kind of dickery is what it takes to get the Nobel, why hasn't Dubya gotten one yet?

Thanks! Danke! Blagodarya! Wa'-do! Shukrani!

2007-11-19T11:26:00.000-08:00

In the spirit of the holiday, here are just a few of the things for which I'm grateful:

* I'm grateful for Lea. I say it a lot, but I mean it every time. My life is exponentially better because she's with me. Even when we're not physically together, just hearing her voice is like a lifeline for me; without her I'd be Major Matt Mason without his Space Crawler, adrift through the cosmos on a one-way trip to Nowheresville, Daddy-O (man, I've rarely seen a metaphor go so bad so fast). My point is that we often wonder, George Bailey-like, if our very existence has made any difference in the lives of others. Lea never has to wonder that.

*I'm grateful for Gabriel. Yeah, he can be a major pain in the general colo-rectal region. His grades are pretty awful, and he's probably going to have to do an extra semester or two just to graduate. His work ethic is for crap, and when he rolls his eyes at me, I'd just as soon smash his melon head with a shillelagh. I know: aside from that, Mrs. Lincoln, how did you like the play? But when it comes to it, I think his heart is basically in the right place. I think when the rubber hits the road, he'll make the ethical choices I'd want him to make. He's smart, and he's funny, and he's lucky enough to be the heir to my gene pool (thank god I've made some modifications to my DNA over the years).

*I'm grateful for my job. No, it's not the most rewarding thing in the world, trying to teach basic composition to a bunch of college kids. At times, I feel like I'm trying to explain the theory of relativity to Lenny from "Of Mice and Men" ("tell us about the dangling participles again, Troy. Tell us, huh?"). But every once in a while, something special happens. Like the Excellence in Teaching nominations I got last year (even though I didn't win 'em; that fucker Michael Chabon probably beat me outta that, too). Like the older lady in my class this semester, coming back to school after 20, 30, maybe 40 years, and telling me that my encouragement has given her the confidence to keep going. Like the goofy kid last semester that was wayyy too square to be real, and kept calling me Mr Hickman the whole time, no matter how many times I told him not to (bless his heart). Like the two kids who have changed their majors to pre-law because of the moot court sessions we run in class. Like the guy on house arrest who came class with an electronic ankle bracelet on, because he'd been convicted of statutory rape, and who wrote his final paper on Jennifer Love Hewett (complete with photo collage). Like the 35 year-old lady who got arrested for performing oral sex on a 14 year-old boy behind the Krispy Kreme donut shop, and came to every session of my class with a 44 ounce Big Gulp filled with booze. OK, the last two are hardly Sidney Poitier moments, but they were at least interesting). Yeah, I have no benefits, and I could make more money selling Grit, but sometimes I can see a student "getting it" (especially in my Creative Writing class), and it feels pretty darned good.

*I'm grateful for my talent. OK, so I haven't made Alan Moore money yet, and maybe one out of twenty comic fans could tell you what Common Grounds is. But you know, I haven't done so bad for myself, all things considered. Most of the folks in my family never got beyond grade school before they were sent away to some juvie facility. Pretty much every one of them eventually did serious prison time, ended up on the FBI's "most wanted" list, and such. Heck, my own mom and dad (for whom I am also grateful), while honorable people, had to drop out of school in the eighth grade to help support their families. And here I am, not only with an MA under my belt, but getting wonderful stuff said about my work by famous people, and finding myself in competition with Pulitzer Prize winners. I've only published about a dozen professional comics; half of those were nominated for Eisners, three others were popular enough to be adapted as part of a video game, and the other three were chances to write the Incredible Hulk, Witchblade, and Turok. I may not be on top of the world, ma, but I've got nothing to whine about. I'm thankful for the ideas that come into my giant melon-ish head.

*I'm grateful that there are still people in the world with common sense. It's hard to believe it sometimes, and god knows it gets hard to keep going at times, when you see all the ignorance and political correctness and lack of integrity out there. But for every mallet-head, there's someone who still thinks the world is a pretty cool place, and who believes that human beings are more than just one more species, that they're somewhere between the animalistic and the angelic, and as such about as special as can be. For every guy that cuts you off in traffic, there's another that'll help you push your car out of a snowbank. But Troy, do you actually believe that? Believe it, hell; I count on it.

* Time for our lightning round. I'm grateful I still have my hair. I'm grateful Friday Night Lights is still on the air. I'm grateful for popsicles. I'm grateful for Christmas music. I'm grateful for pornography, when used properly and with good intent. I'm grateful for chicken pot pies. I'm grateful for my voluminous collection of MST3K tapes. I'm grateful for our fantastic turtle, Eastman. I'm grateful for my ever-present leather jacket. I'm grateful for camel spiders (because I know God in his infinite wisdom has a reason for them being here). I'm grateful for the Andy Griffith Show. I'm grateful for long showers. I'm grateful for blog columns that eventually end.

Things Be Different in Hollywood

2007-11-15T13:31:00.000-08:00

A thread on the City of Heroes boards got me thinking about this, so I'm going to doctor it up a bit for your consumption. Yeeeehaw! Never throw anything away!

Anyway, I was thinking about Hollywood, and what we've learned about the world from it, such as:

* In movies and television of the last thirty years, how often have you seen a major character who is a clergyman, and also a positive character? Now ask yourself how many you've seen who are the bad guy of the piece. Usually the priest or reverend is corrupt, a pederast, a hypocrite, etc. That is, assuming he's Christian clergy. You'll rarely see a bad rabbi (not counting that David Kaye perve on To Catch a Predator), and a bad muslim holy man? Forget it; TV producers like to avoid being blown up, just like everybody else.

* Along the same lines, how often have you seen movies where corporations or big business or CEOs are the villains? Now tell me how many you've seen where those same sort of entities are actually decent and moral? Hell, John Grisham has made a CAREER out of showing us how corrupt big business is (how about a few movies about evil mom & pop stores, Johnny?). According to Hollywood, big businesses exists only to pollute, screw people over, and commit covert acts of evil. Well...unless that big business is movie making or television...

* If you go by Hollywood's depiction, no one in prison, especially on death row, actually committed a crime. They were almost ALL falsely accused and convicted. I guess crimes must go around committing themselves, or...oh, yeah, that's right, the corporations are committing them all.

*If Hollywood is correct, most homeless folks are women (with children) escaping from abusive husbands, or people who were turned out of mental hospitals (usually during the Reagan era), or colorful old coots who just don't care to play by "the man's" rules, or people victimized by (wait for it) a big corporation. Strangely, few of them are heroin addicts or crackheads or severe alcoholics. Take a walk with me through a bad area of Chicago or Vancouver sometime, and we'll take a tally of why most folks there are living on the streets. Interestingly, by the way, if you look at a lot of the sociology textbooks now, you won't see a single mention of homelessness being caused by or linked to drug and alcohol addiction. It's just not there. In fact, it'll say that almost all folks living on the streets are there because of "mental illness." Know why? It's because the clinical definition of mental illness has been broadened enough that addiction is considered part of it. So you're not going to be seeing a lot of mentions of homeless folks doing crack or drinking Sterno. They're technically all "mentally ill." Now, that doesn't mean we can't be compassionate and try to help, but let's at least start by being honest about why so many of them are there. Is the truth a bad thing?

* Here's an interesting one: think of how many movies you've seen in the last 25 years where there's a courtroom scene, and the judge is a black woman. Now, I'd be happy to see more female black judges in the real world, but the truth of the matter is there are currently only a handful of them out there. If you go by Hollywood, though, at least half the judges out there are black women. Doubt me? Keep track of movies and TV shows made from about 1980 to 2000, and see what you get.Hell, Lynne Thigpen has made it her "thing"...

That's en-ter-tain-menttttt!

Smooches

2007-11-14T13:28:00.000-08:00

Just a quick post to my baby, Lea, to tell her how very much I love her. I think Mr. Joe Cocker said it best:

Next up, Mr. Paul Anka...

I'm Crazy Nostalgia Face. Gimmee Some Candy!

2007-11-13T12:47:00.000-08:00

I came across a neat site: the Victory Seed Company Old Time Candy Store. From it, you can order all sorts of old timey candy (they're silly with it!). Here are some that brought back memories for me:

Chick-O-Sticks - Mmmmmm, I loves me the crunchy, coconutty, peanut buttery goodness of a Chick-O-Stick. They're just the right size for a quick, sweet snack. I remember Lea had never seen one, so I mailed her one, early in our relationship. She probably thought "why is this idiot sending me an envelope full of candy crumbs" but what the hell.

Bottle Caps - Probably my favorite of the Wonka candies. I remember when I was around 8 or so, and there was this obscure little mom and pop place about a block from us. I'd walk over there and buy candy, and more often than not, it was a pack of Bottle Caps. I would've frequented that place more often, but just across the street from it was Stone's Drug Store, which carried not only candy, but also model kits, and most importantly, a whole rack full of comics!

Candy Necklaces - We always had these things as kids, always wore 'em around our neck or wrist, and never, ever particularly enjoyed them. The problem is they didn't really have much in the way of flavor. Like Necco Wafers, they were just sweet without being tangy, fruity, etc. The ones pictured here are Smarties brand, so maybe they taste better than the other ones (for you Canucks, these are the American Smarties, which for you are "Rockets," not your Canadian Smarties, which are an M&M rip-off...

Lemon-Heads - Oooooh, I love all the Ferrara Pan "head" candies. Lemonheads, Grapeheads, Cherryheads, Appleheads, you name it. You get a box of these bad boys, you sit on the porch swing on a breezy summer day with your copy of Avengers #115, and boy, you got yourself one damned good time.

Fizzies - OK, this is one of those wonder products of our youth that we remember fondly, but that never really did pay off for us at the time. As I recall, they did fizz in water, and they did slightly flavor that water like root beer, cherry, apple, whatever, but it was hardly like drinking an actual soda. It was more like drinking rainwater that someone had whispered "root beer" into. Great idea, though, and a damned lot of fun for kids, especially in the old days, when all we had to play with were rocks and fear of persecution.

Necco Wafers - Christ on a cracker, don't eat these things. As mentioned above, they're just discs made of chalk with a little sugar thrown in to fool you. I'd rather suck the blood out of a racoons ass that eat a whole package of these. They didn't even look good, with their pastels colors and chalky disposition. They looked like a candy your grandpa had eaten as a child, and had hated, and truth be told, I think that's exactly what they were...

Nik L Nips - No, not a racist candy, but tiny wax pop bottles filled with fruity syrup. God, I loved these things. They seemed to be seasonal when I was a kid, though, so you couldn't always find 'em. I dug the fact that they came in a tiny cardboard package to simulate a six pack of soda. I think they were probably called Nik L Nips because they were original a nickel for the pack. These days? Seventy-five cents. Oh, well..

Slo-Pokes - For those times when a Sugar Daddy was just too high-falootin', a Slo-Poke would do just fine. It was a block of caramel on a stick; those candy scientists are geniuses! Of course, on a particularly hot summer day...well, then it turned into embroidery for your jeans, but what the hell.

Wax Lips - I bought a bunch of these over the years, and never really understood the point. You could wear 'em like big red lips (now there's some fun), and when you were tired of 'em, you could chew them like gum. Except they weren't gum, they were wax. How often have you been at home, maybe during a blackout, and said to yourself "Man, I'd like to gnaw on that candle for a while"?

I miss those days...I guess that's why a company like this can probably make out pretty good with the Gen X crowd...now if I could just get them to start making Freakies cereal again...

Morals Ain't Just a Mushroom

2007-11-09T20:12:00.000-08:00

Not long ago, I posted some questions I asked my students about the general knowledge they possess (if you haven't checked it out, you might want to do so, as the results were fascinating.

In a similar vein, when my classes begin working on persuasive papers, we usually go through a few exercises to get their "argumentative juices" flowing. One such exercise is sort of a version of the board game "Scruples," where they're confronted with an ethical dilemma, and they say what they would do in a given situation, and why.

Below are the questions, then a brief summary of what the answers look like. Again, interesting stuff. Answer 'em yourself, and see what you get.

1. You're walking down the street, and in front of you is a well-dressed man counting a wad of money. He drops a $100 bill, but doesn't notice, and walks on. No one else is around. What do you do?

2. You accidentally find out your romantic partner's email password. What do you do?

3. You're friends with a couple, and one of them confides in you that they're having an affair with someone. What do you do?

4. You're in a department store, and you see a woman strike her young child hard across the face. What do you do?

5. You see someone's car stuck in the snow, and they're trying to push it out. What do you do?

6. Your neighbor's dog regularly barks all night long, sometimes keeping you awake. Then one day you see your neighbor kick his dog. What do you do?

7. You're working as a volunteer for a political candidate whose policies you strongly support. Then one day you find that they're secretly putting some campaign funds into their own personal account. What do you do?

8. You see a woman in the supermarket with three shabbily-dressed kids. You watch her put a jar of peanut butter into her purse, and walk out without paying for it. What do you do?

9. You're in a store and you break something expensive, but no one is around to witness it. What do you do?

10. You have a co-worker who regular slips out of work early, but the boss is unaware of it. What do you do?

Results:

1. Most of my students say they'd give the cash back. Of the few who wouldn't, the reason usually given is "he doesn't need it as much as I do." A couple would give it back hoping for a reward. A couple of them had the smarts to ask "What if he was dressed well because he was going to his wife's funeral, and he had the money to pay the funeral home" or similar hypotheticals. One guy said he'd sack the man and take the rest of his cash, but I hope he was joking.

2. This one went about 50/50. About half of them said they would either tell their partner, or they would just never use the info. The other half either said they'd look (mainly out of nosiness), or they'd only look if they felt "there was good reason."

3. Half the class said they'd basically stay out of it. About a third of them said they would tell the other partner (or give the person confiding in them the chance to do so first). A large number of them said it depended on which partner was the better or older friend to them. An alarming number of them said that if the confider were the same sex as them, they'd keep their secret, but not otherwise. Talk about your gender loyalty. One guy said that if it were the woman confiding in him, he'd use the info to blackmail her for sex.

4. About half the class said that it depended on (A) how hard the slap was, (B) the age of the child, and (C) what the child had done to provoke it. About a third said they'd do nothing, as it wasn't their business. The rest said they'd go to some kind of authority, whether it was the store's management, the police, or Child Protective Services (though there's a real fear of CPS and their overzealousness).

5. Most folks said they wouldn't stop to help, but they would offer to call for help on their cellphone. Of the ones who would help, most of them said they'd stop if it was a woman, but not if it were a guy (so if Laurie Dann or Aileen Wuornos were stranded, they'd stop, but bearded, scary-looking pussycat Troy Hickman would die from exposure).

6. About two thirds of them would do something, whether it was contacting the authorities, confronting the guy, or stealing the dog. Interestingly, a lot more folks were willing to help the dog being kicked than the little kid being struck in the face.

7. Most everyone said they would either turn the guy in, or confront him and give him the chance to do so. Wheeewwww. Unfortunately, a handful said that if they supported his causes, they would let it slide (what do you want to bet those are exactly the folks who WILL end up in politics?). One guy said he'd blackmail the politician (I sense a trend here).

Very few folks would turn her in. Some said they would offer to pay for her peanut butter. One guy said he'd slip a jar of jelly into her bag so the sandwiches weren't too dry. This question provoked a truly amazing interchange, however. I have an old hippie guy in one of my classes, and he's got some truly loco ideas. So when this question came up, he said he thought it was OK for her to steal it, because the store had more money than the woman did. Here's how the convo went from that point on:

ME: So, it's ok to steal from someone as long as they have more than you do?

HIPPIE: Yes.

ME: Soooo...if I'm living below poverty level, is it ok for me to steal from someone else below poverty level, as long as they make a little more than me?

HIPPIE: No.

ME: So what's the cut-off point? How much do you have to make for it to be ok to steal from you.

HIPPIE (without a hesitation): $24,000 a year.

ME (gasping for breath): $24,000 a year???? How...what...where did you come up with that amount?

HIPPIE: Well, that's assuming we're talking about someone who's single with no children.

So not only did he have an actual number at which you could be robbed, but he must've worked out some sort of chart that made adjustments for spouses and dependents!!!

9. About half said they'd tell the store owner, assuming they probably wouldn't have to pay for it anyway. The other half would either walk away inconspicuously or hide the item.

10. With this one, almost every person said it depended on whether they LIKED their co-worker. Of the ones who would act, most said they'd let he boss know indirectly.

So what about you?

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!

2007-11-09T14:13:00.000-08:00

I just got back from taking my son to practice driving. How do I feel? I think that's best expressed by this video:

The "To Catch a Predator" Song

2007-11-09T07:19:00.000-08:00

Everybody sing! (to the tune of "Three Blind Mice")

Chris Han-son,
Chris Han-son,
In the Kitch-en,
In the Kitch-en,

He nabs pedos while they're drinking sweet tea,
He puts a stop to their perv-os-it-y,
Oh, god, I pray that he doesn't catch me,
That Chris Han-son...