SCOTUS VS. POTUS VS. MOTHRA

Hey! Good to see you folks again. I've decided to start using this ol' debbil blog page again, for no particular reason beyond my love of my own voice, and the fact that, for some unknown reason, people actually listen to what I have to say. Go figure.

So the Supreme Court's decision on the Hobby Lobby/Obamacare case has the internet all up in arms, and I have to say, I've never seen the left more wrong about anything (and that's saying something). I'd like to gab about it a bit, but I think first we need to look over what I like to call


TROY HICKMAN'S TWO RULES OF HUMAN SEXUALITY!!!

There are only two of them, and a lot of folks will love me for the first, and hate me for the second, but they are inextricably bound, and you can't have one without the other.

RULE #1: What consenting adult human beings do in the privacy of their own bedroom is NONE OF MY DAMNED BUSINESS.

Pretty simple, right? I think it's something on which MOST of us can reach (wait for it) Common Grounds. Now...

RULE #2: Because what consenting adults do in the privacy of their own bedroom is none of my damned business, you cannot expect me to SUBSIDIZE any of those activities with my tax dollars. That means it's not my business to pay for (A) your birth control, (B) your abortions, (C) the treatment of STDS, and (D) the care and upkeep of any children that are created as a result of what goes on in that bedroom.

Got it? This country is based on the concept of NO TAXATION WITHOUT REPRESENTATION. If what you do in your bedroom is none of my business and not something you want me to be able to affect through my elected representatives, you therefore cannot confiscate my moolah to pay for it. Simply put, if you want me to keep my big nose out of your bedroom, you have to keep your fingers out of my wallet. But the minute you start making me pay for it, I have a right to a say in what goes on there. Now me, I don't WANT a say in what you do there, so just don't ask me to pony up any dough for it, and we'll get along fine.



(Usually this is where dissenters raise one of two issues. Some will say "but it's cheaper to pay for the birth control and abortions than to pay for all those kids!" To those folks, read point D above. Others will say "But...but there are all kinds of things in this country we don't get a say about but still have to pay for...like...like the military!" Bzzzzzzt! Oh, sorry, you've failed the lightning round. In fact, you DO have the ability to affect what the military does through your elected representatives, and we can see myriad examples of this. But most of the folks who disagree with me DON'T want people's reproductive choices to be put up to a public vote or be able to be affected by legislation, so it's not the same, is it? You argue all the time that you don't want "women's health choices" to be changed by political forces. OK, so if you put them outside my ability to affect them through my vote or other political action, you also put them outside my responsibility to fund through my hard-earned dollars through taxation.

So which do you want? Do you want me to pay for your stuff and have a say in your bedroom, or do you want me to keep out of your bedroom while you keep out of my bank account? Because those are your only two choices, as far as I'm concerned.

And yet I keep seeing all these folks, who apparently eschew reason for talking points, claiming "this is limiting women's access to birth control!" Uh, no. Hobby Lobby pays their employees wages, which can be used for the aforementioned birth control. This will not stop anyone from going to a doctor, a pharmacy, etc. and getting some protection. Not picking up the tab for someone's wants is NOT the same as stopping them from getting it. No one is buying me a new car, which would certainly improve my life more than birth control, but if I can come up with the bread for it, there's no one stopping me from walking into a dealership and driving out with one (well, there isn't CURRENTLY such a force; these days, you never know when a new law will come down the pike).

According to the Planned Parenthood website, the Pill costs from $15-$50 a month. If you can't afford to spring for that much, why are you taking part in an activity that, even with protection, might cause you to have a child, which is one hell of a lot more expensive?

But, but Troy, you monster, that's a lot of money to some folks! What do you expect them to do...abstain from a natural human activity?!! Well, yeah, actually, if they can't afford a couple of tenspots a month to pay for their pleasure, maybe they should abstain until they can. Y'know, after my son was unexpectedly conceived and consequently delivered, my then-wife tried to get a tubal, but they told her she'd have to wait a couple of years. So, since we were afraid that other means of birth control might not be 100% effective, and we knew we could never afford a second child (we couldn't even afford the first), we decided not to have intercourse until after the tubal. Yes, gasp, we actually abstained for a couple of years! Oh, my god, what kind of a Superman of self-control must I have been?! The answer is I'm just a normal guy, with no more self-control than anyone else, but I decided to take self-responsibility. Unfortunately, these days that's become a dirty word.

Look, if this means that much to you, and if you want to help lower-income folks (like myself, btw; thanks to other Obamacare regulations, my employer had to cut my hours by 40%, and I'm at poverty level) with their birth control, abortifacients, etc., that's great. Just take a twenty out of your wallet and fork it over to Planned Parenthood or other such organizations. Or just hand it to someone who looks poor but still wants to engage in sex, and cut out the middleman. If as many people care about this issue as the left is claiming, they can easily raise all the money needed with just a small donation That way, you get what you want and no one has to feel like they've thrown their conscience under the bus But either way, you don't have the right to demand that ANYONE ELSE spring for it without having a say in how its used. That's TAXATION WITHOUT REPRESENTATION.

When it comes down to it, this finding from SCOTUS doesn't keep a single person from getting contraceptives and abortifacients. It just keeps business owners who disagree with the use of those things from being forced to pay for it (and truth be told, the Obama administration is already looking for other ways to force companies to do it, probably through unilateral "executive orders").

It's funny, y'know. In our culture, we already make allowances for people who care about their fellow man, but don't want to betray their heartfelt beliefs. It's called "conscientious objector status." But then, those folks aren't going against The Big O's agenda, nor are they reaching into anyone else's pocket, so we'll let them slide.

Oh, and this bogus "this is discrimination against women" silliness? Look, nowhere did the Supreme Court or anyone else say "companies can be forced to pay for men's reproductive services but not women's." In fact, unless I'm mistaken, Obamacare regulations don't even require insurance to cover the cost of condoms at all, so who is really being discriminated against here? Is it a war against men? And, y'know, given that condoms can help stop AIDS, and given that there's a higher than average occurrence of AIDS in the gay community, does that mean Obamacare discriminates against gay folks? Is it a war against them? Hmmm...

Look, the fact that this is even a controversy is terrifying to me, because it's indicative of what we've become, and what we'll continue to become if we don't put our foot down. I'm sorry to say it to folks who have the mantra of "government social programs uber alles," but sometimes the right answer to entitlements is "no."

Interesting, btw, that one of the main problems the Supreme Court had with this is that it violated the Religious Freedom Restoration Act of 1993, which was signed into law by that noted right-winger...uh...Bill Clinton. And now Hillary is going off on how awful this is. It'll be interesting to see how all that goes. especially when the primaries roll around.

Anyway, if you disagree with me, feel free to have at it; I'd like to hear why I'm wrong. Bear in mind, though, that you'll want to use logic, reasons, and facts. You probably don't want to just say "I FEEL that it's wrong" or spout sound bytes or call me names, as I'll just mock you mercilessly until you cry...

A Book Worthy Of Your Almighty Dollar

My pals Sam Johnson and Mike Gagnon have come out with a really fascinating new comic called The Almighties, and Sam was kind enough to get a copy into my hands (which is brave of him, as he has no idea where these hands have been).

I'm going to pay this comic a compliment that I rarely ever use: I have no idea where it's going. Now, with far too many of today's funnybooks, that's a definite negative. But in this context, I point it out as one of the book's greatest strengths. Unlike a lot of comics, I can't say "well, this is obviously trying to capitalize on the readership of Vertigo titles," or "it's obvious that they're going for a Teen Titans vibe here." The Almighties is very much its own thing, and as someone who takes great pride in trying to make my comics unique, I can appreciate that quality more than most.

Ostensibly, this is a superteam comic, but its line-up is a quirky hodge-podge of interesting characters, including the power-armored Maxi-Tron (who finds himself in need of a testicular exam), Ms. F (sort of a Carol Danvers type, but also nothing like her), Nite Fang (a werewolf), Mason (a mercenary), and Stefanos, who apparently runs a kabob shop between having meetings at the White House and fighting crime with a big skewer of meat (and not the way that Ron Jeremy does).

Now in and of itself, a peculiar line-up of characters doesn't make a superteam book unique, as we've seen similar things in 1980s indy comics like Southern Knights, Justice Machine, etc., and in some ways this book is reminiscent of such great titles (though the Almighties team is odder than most). But the real difference is in the WAY the comic is written, and that's where my job here becomes difficult, as how do you describe an unknown quality without using a "yardstick" of familiarity with which to compare it? If I had to describe the way this story is told, it would be sort of like if you took a more light-hearted superteam comic (say, the Great Lakes Avengers of the Legion of Substitute Heroes), but then you doused it liberally with the sheer oddness of Bob Burden's work (Flaming Carrot, Mystery Men, etc.). There's a certain controlled lunacy to the comic that could be misconstrued as just wackiness, but there's actually a lot more to it than that. In the salad days of the Comics Journal, I think they might've called this comic "dadaistic," which might be as appropriate, and as incomplete, as any other classification.

However you chose to label it, though, I really enjoyed it. There are laughs (my favorite probably being the L'il Jonze character's preoccupation with sex and dips), cool character interaction, and a very fast pace. I would be remiss if I didn't also mention the artwork by Eleonora Kortsarz, Pablo Zambrano, and D.C. White, which is equally hard to describe (again, it would be like if you took the cool indie team books of thirty years ago, but then added an almost underground element...at points it almost looks like the Elementals if Bill Willingham had collaborated with Reid Fleming's David Boswell!), some great coloring by Gulliver Vianei, Jennifer Scott, and the aforementioned Mike Gagnon (oooh, Mr. Multi-tasking!), and first-rate lettering by Kris Johnson.

Again, I'll praise the book in a strange way: it's not for everybody. And thank goodness for that, as I really don't want to read a comic that's for everyone. But I do want to read one that's intended for sharp readers with an appreciation of creators doing something outside the box, and that's what we've got here.

Check it out. The Almighties #1 is published by Actuality Press, Rated Teen+, and is available at www.indyplanet.com and www.thealmighties.com in $3.99 regular and Variant editions. And the $1.99 Digital Edition is available now at www.graphicly.com and www.wowio.com

It's cool to have another comic out there that I actually want to read. I may not give up on this funnybook thing yet...

If Luck Be a Lady Tonight, She Doesn't Think You Drive a Cool Car...

Today I saw a link to a FB post that not only got my goat, but bent him over and gave him a Ned Beatty to boot. Here's where you can read it in its entirety if you wish. I'm a bit iffy on something called "We Survived Bush, You Can Survive Obama," as it seems to discount all of us who didn't want to have to survive either of them, but what the hey.

Now, this thingy started off OK, with the author saying that not everyone who is out of work right now is lazy or not looking for work. Okey dokey, I'm with you there. It's a crappy economy right now, despite what the White House might want us to think, and there are a ton of hardworking folks who can't find a job at the moment. That's not debatable; it's simply fact (just like it's a fact that at ANY time in history, there are also going to be far too many folks who DON'T want to work and would rather have other folks do it for them; I don't think these folks are the majority, but they exist).

HOWEVER, then the author goes too far, and ends the piece with this little nugget:

    

"Unless you're a millionaire reading this then we are all running the same race and quite simply some of  have us just gotten luckier in our circumstances than others. That is all that separates us."
OK, Hoss, that's where you lost me. People who have succeeded more than others are ONLY there because of luck?

Bzzzzzzt! Oh, so sorry. You've lost the lightning round.

Is it just possible that in SOME cases, just MAYBE effort, determination, and forethought might have the slightest iota to do with it?

OK, I'm going to use myself as an example here. Bear in mind that my college paid me $19,000 last year, so it'll probably be a while before I can save up to be a millionaire; therefore I guess I have a right to address this "luck" pontification.

In my own case, as most of you know, I occasionally get to write comic books (whereas I'd like to do so more than occasionally). Of course, I'm no heavy hitter when it comes to fame or fortune in comics (99% of comic readership hasn't the foggiest who I am), and by my standards I haven't accomplished anywhere near what I want to in the funnybook realm. But truth be told, I've accomplished more than the MAJORITY of folks who WANT to write comics (not those who actually have, but simply those who have that as their goal). I've been up for some Eisners, I've gotten to work on some fairly major characters, my work is being optioned for other media, and on the rare occasions when I DO work, I've gotten a decent page-rate.

Now, the small success that I HAVE had in comics...is it all because of luck? Well, as I point out to folks when I'm interviewed, I probably wouldn't be doing this stuff professionally now if Jim McLauchlin hadn't wandered by my table at the 1997 Wizard World Chicago convention, noticed my comic Holey Crullers, and bought them and enjoyed them.

Was there an element of sheer happenstance in that? Sure. If Jim had taken a different route around the convention floor, if he'd been distracted by a bug as he passed my table, etc., things might have gone completely differently. THAT could be considered good fortune, as it's not something I could control.

 

Now let's look at the elements that I COULD and DID control. Jim couldn't have picked up my comics had I not made the effort, that year and the six years previous, to go to the convention and peddle my unknown mini-comics (mainly to people who had no interest in reading them, and who had no problems letting you know that). I had to write the comics, find artists for the comics, print them up, fold and staple them, lug them to the convention and back, pay for the table, and push them on anyone and everyone I could.

Beyond that, he might not have LIKED my comics enough to make my comics career possible if I had not spent nine years in college specifically to improve my writing abilities, not to mention the fifteen years or so that I spent working at concession stands, convenience stores, gas stations, mowing lawns, etc. so that I had the money to PAY for those years of college.

If you want to say that a guy who did EVERYTHING that I did to succeed, and then STILL failed, is only separated from me by circumstance, then maybe we might have a topic for discussion.

But to say that ANYONE who doesn't succeed is only different from me because I was "lucky"? Sorry, but you're cuckoo for coco puffs. There's a PROFOUND difference between me and a guy whose only effort to get into the funnybook business is standing around bending the ear of his local comic shop owner about what great comics he would create if the Big Two would only have the brains and the nerve to "give me my shot!"

Nine times out of ten, every success story that seems like mere "luck" has a TON of hard work and patience

behind it. Most overnight sensations happen over years, sometimes decades. But most failure is pretty much instantaneous, and yeah, most of the time it is equally due to what its "victim" has done or not done.

Think of it like the stock market. Is there an element of luck to investment? Sure. A rutabaga crop can be destroyed by a drought, and you lose your shirt. It happens. But most of the time your success or failure in the market is due to which investments you make. If you bought into IBM years ago, you might have made a fortune. If you instead chose to put all your money into New Coke, you F-ed yourself in the A.

Likewise, I made an investment when I decided I wanted to write

comics. Truth be told, it may not have been the brightest investment, as my Master's in creative writing is hardly the key to gainful employment, and the comic book industry is neither stable nor going out of their way to hire unknown folks (they're more likely to hire well-known actors or directors or soccer players than a guy like me).

But that was my choice. If I don't succeed, it's not because the Fates didn't smile on me, nor is it because there are a lot of mean people out there trying to hold me back. The credit or blame for my success or failure rests squarely on one guy, and he's the same one who makes sweet love to my girlfriend whenever possible (and if I ever CATCH that bastard...!).

Are there folks out there suffering because of circumstances beyond their control? Sure, and hopefully we can quit dicking around and put policies in place that will encourage hiring rather than discouraging it.

But to say that the only difference between a guy like myself... and another guy whose biggest investment in his comics-writing career was to buy every issue of Deadpool...is a matter of sheer LUCK?

I'm a comic book writer, but even I can't pass off a fantasy like that...

Speech Therapy

So recently I was fortunate enough to be asked to speak about comics at the Tidewater Community College Literary Festival (there's a mouthful...and yes, that's what she said) in Norfolk, VA, and I have to say, it was one of the best times I have had in recent memory. As is my nature, let me bullet point some of the highlights:

* For me one of the best parts had to be meeting Suki and Wade Tooley, two of the nicest people I have ever met. Suki was responsible for (and deserves all the blame) for my invitation to the festival. She and Wade took it a heck of a lot farther than just being good hosts, though. They treated me like a king (no, not Rodney), they wined me and dined me, and they were the best company anyone could have. Even though I couldn't have spent more than maybe twelve hours with them during the entire trip, I've rarely ever felt so close to two folks in such a short amount of time.
One of the nicest aspects was finding out that they're fairly "like-minded" when it comes to socio-political issues and the like. That might sound like a small matter, but in the charged atmospheres of academia and funnybooks that I patronize, it's NOT. Finding someone who actually (gasp!) dares to think like me is a rarity, and to be honest, in my emails with Suki in lining up the event, I never went into such matters, as far too often it can be a dealbreaker (I know we'd like to think folks are not that closed-minded, but don't kid yourself). But within a short time, it became clear that these two actually GET it. and we groused about stuff like we've known each other our whole lives.

They were kind enough to pick me up at the airport (with Suki holding a sign that said "Troy Hickman" and Wade holding one that read "No, really, Troy Hickman," as I recall). They took me by the theater to see and get a photo of me standing under my name on the marquee (you wanna talk about surreal). They let me ride along with them to the Mark Wheatley speech the night before mine (I think Mark and I had met years ago, and we both vaguely remembered it). They took me out to dinner...and more dinner...and after dinner...and I think they were even present during my dinner with Andre. They did a hundred other things to make sure I had a grand time while I was there.

And you know the best part? Truth be told, I may sound like a sappy goof when I say this, but when has that ever stopped me before? The best part is that I sincerely feel like I've made a couple of new friends, and that's not something I do too often, and it means a hell of a lot. They're wonderful people, and very smart, and exceedingly funny, and I'm so glad to know them (and right now, anyone who knows me is thinking "so why would smart, funny people hang out with you, T-Bone?").

* Speaking of smart, funny friends, I was about twenty minutes into my speech, squinting out into the crowd (they never really turned down the lights, so I couldn't see very far into the vastness of the place), when I noticed there was a young woman down front who was smiling and laughing at everything I said. My first thought was "there's a nitrous oxide leak in the theater!"

Eventually, though, I realized it was my friend Sondra, whom I've known for ten odd years, but had never actually met before. Over the last decade, she's also been incredibly kind and supportive towards me, so it was a tremendous thrill to see that she'd made it to the speech (she lives nearby). Sondra is an absolute force of nature, by the way. I try to surround myself with people who are bright and quick-witted (to make up for my obvious limitations), and she's just freakishly good, so much so that she should really be in stand-up or some other area of the business of show. She went with us to "dinner" (OK, it turned out to be a Sprite) after the speech, and at one point, in a forty-five second window (yes, I notice stuff like that), she went from a southern belle accent to a high British accent to what might be best described as a "Maury show guest" accent, and all with top-notch ad-lib material. She's like what Robin Williams would be if he were funny. And, like Suki and Wade, just one of the best people I have ever had the privilege of knowing, just so normal and decent and kind, but then, I've known that for years. Sweet baby gherkins, why are such people associating with a reprobate like myself?

* I got to stay at the Marriott Waterside, a really nice hotel downtown. Is there anything cooler than having your own hotel room? I'm one of those folks that uses absolutely EVERY amenity they provide, from the ice bucket, to the steam iron, to the shoe polishing cloth. They had some great facilities, too, with a really complete exercise room, a 24 hour laundry, etc.

I did have a brief moment of terror, though, when I went outside to take a look at the outdoor hot tub, only to realize that I couldn't pull the door back open once I was out there. There was NO ONE else around, and it was only an hour or two before they were going to come and get me for the speech, so I began to panic, worrying that I'd miss it because I was trapped out there with the hot tub.

Of course, then I realized that the door opens in instead of out. You know, for ostensibly a fairly bright guy, I can be quite the dullard. That photo on the right, btw, was taken about thirty seconds before I started panicking...

Here's a fact that will tell you everything you need to know about Troy Hickman: the first night at the hotel, I rode the elevator to every floor (there are 24 of them) to check out what soft drinks were in each vending room.

* The food was just fantastic during the whole trip, and I'm sad to admit I probably put on ten pounds in the couple days I was there. On Wednesday, after the Wheatley speech, there was a FANTASTIC spread of food at the reception, and I gobbled it up in a manner that would've shamed PacMan (and frankly, he needs shaming). Then, because that's not enough to sustain my brobdingnagian girth, Wade and Suki took me out to a great place for sushi and tempura and about a dozen other things that I wolfed down. Of course, after half a night's sleep, I had to get down to the hotel' BREAKFAST BUFFET (hey, it was included in the hefty price of the room). Then there was my pre-speech meal (a great plate of fish and chips), followed by the reception food, followed by the buffet again the next morning, and---well, let's just say that I left Virginia looking like Mr. Creosote...

* The speech itself, if what folks are telling me is true (and not an attempt to spare my Cindy Brady-like feelings), went very well. The theater is a beautiful old place, and they gave me mine own dressing room (it had a wall-length mirror with lights around it, just like in the movies!), brought me down for a mic check (and yes, I said "sibilance, sibilance" just like you'd expect me to), and set me up with a cool remote control for my slide show.

I was nervous as hell at first, but after a few minutes I loosened up and got on with the business of explaining how I'd gotten into funnybooks, and more importantly, how I'd managed to keep loving them while dealing with them as a business.

Folks seemed to dig it, and at the signing in the lobby afterwards, the good folks from Barnes and Nobles sold out of the Common Grounds trade paperback. I also met some fantastic people (I was especially taken by the two little kids, (Isabelle and her brother, I believe), who showed their fine manners and upbringing by coming over before they left and shaking my hand, saying "it was nice to meet you, Mr. Hickman." What a sweet, sweet thing.

And Suki presented me with a lovely silver engraved cup as a memento. I'm going to tell people it was given to me by the people of Virginia for saving them from the Stone Men of Saturn...

Anyway, it was just a wonderful trip (and the moolah doesn't hurt either!), and I sincerely hope I can do more of this sort of thing in the future. Thanks so much to Suki, and Wade, and Sondra, and all the fine folks at Tidewater, and even to the lady at the hotel restaurant who seemed mad that I only tipped her the FIRST day I was there for the buffet (hey, it's hard to know what 20% of zero is!). I love comics!

Hey, Kids...Comics!

Hiya! It’s been a while, and yeah, I really have to post here more often. So I will! What I wanted to gab about with you today was a quite sublime afternoon I had not long ago. As you may know, I have my own home now, and like the house in which I grew up (which is a mere seven feet north of my new digs), there’s a great porch where I can sit and read on a warm day (or sit an freeze on a cold one if I want; hey, it’s my place, so it’s my frostbite!).

Anyway, not long ago I took a bit of “me time” on a Sunday afternoon, and I perused a stack of comics sent to me by my pal Sebastian Piccione. And what a grand time I had! What you have to realize, folks, is that between teaching, writing, taking care of the new house, etc., I don’t have much time for reading, and that includes comics. Also, to be honest, if I DO have time for funnybooks, I’d much prefer to read some of my unread Silver Age acquisitions, rather than the doom-and-gloom, Character X-is-so-bad-ass, big-thing-of-the-month comics that currently hit the stands.So imagine my joy when I sat down with Seb’s stack of comics, and actually ENJOYED some current sequential art for a change. Let me go into some specifics about each book:

Cat. 5 – This is a very cool comic about a solo heroine (the kind of comic that tends to be hard to do successfully, if years of Wonder Woman, Ms. Marvel, Spider-Woman, and various other comics are any indication). It has a really nice, breezy feel to it. For me, though, the most interesting thing is our gal’s origins. As I was reading it, I said to myself “wow, it really feels like the kind of character that grows out of superhero gaming.” And sure enough, when I got to the editorial page at the end, yup, that’s from whence she came. Folks, that’s no small deal to me, either, as most of the characters from my (everybody together now…Eisner-nominated) series Common Grounds were originally either player characters or NPCs in my fifteen-year Champions RPG campaign. I’m guessing a lot of Seb’s other characters stem from his gaming as well. Clever, coherhent scripting, and solid art (nice use of grey tones). It reminds me of the self-published indy superhero comics from the eighties that I dug so much.

Allied Forces – Yes! A very well-done WW2 comic. At the moment, my pal Stan Timmons and I are working on a pitch for a WW2 superhero comic, so reading this really put me in the right frame of mind. I really dig the multi-national heroes. It reminds me of something Roy Thomas would’ve done thirty years ago, and that’s high praise. I really appreciate the attention to detail. The artwork is very clean and appropriate to the time period (with some excellent coloring work). I’m anxious to see where this goes.

Heroic Tales – A very cool superhero anthology (and man, we don’t see many of those these days). The first tale features Conversion, and deals with our hero turning matter into energy (some cool possibilities there), and dealing with the villainous Brickbat (given Seb’s penchant for puns, you know I have to enjoy this stuff). Again, a very nice light superhero feel to it, the kind of thing that would bring me back to mainstream comics in droves if they could manage it (but I’m afraid that far too many current creatures have a heart that’s two sizes too small). The second feature is the U.S.A. (United Super Americans), and has a great team with pun names that I envy (I wish I could’ve made people wince with ‘em!). Really top-notch artwork throughout the comic.

Never Look Back #2 – A very well-done anthology about the denizens of Charlton City, who tend to be up to their eyeballs in crime and corruption. A great noir feel here. Seb’s piece is the best (great allusions to Charlton the comics company, btw), but the whole book is snazzy. I love the concept, as it allows for all sorts of great human interest stuff. If they do more of these, they should put me down for a spot, as it plays to the sort of short self-contained pieces I like.

All in all, the best time I've had reading comics in a while. Thanks so much, Seb.

Cat. 5 can be found here: and HEROIC TALES #1 here. (And I believe Seb said Allied Forces would be available there soon).

Hey, comic industry, put more fun into comics, both for the reader, and more importantly FOR YOURSELVES, and you'll get me sitting on my porch more often.

Also, put more fun into comics by hiring me for more stuff. I'm just saying...

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

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!

Hmmm...

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...

Searing Intestinal Cramps of the Dead

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

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...

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!