It’s our old nemesis, the douchebag

So Rev Jones, master of a less-than-50 member church that is looking increasingly cult-like, will apparently not be burning Korans tomorrow as endlessly promised, though in a clarification shortly after that announcement, stated that the event has merely been “postponed”, not “canceled”, thereby maintaining his douchebag status.

There have actually been a couple good things to come out of this Olympic-grade stupidity: A) People all across the political spectrum were, for once, saying the same thing, and it was a right thing, ie., “You’re s stupid Nazi scumbag for doing this”, and B) watching the Westboro Baptist Church sulk that they were burning Korans years ago, where does this guy get off stealing their act.

I was going to post this today in any case, a brief surcease in the level of douchbaggery does not diminish its message one whit, and it still needs to be said:

Now, more than ever, we need the goddamn Batman.

I’ve got two crapfests coming up this weekend. I’ll be live-tweeting them, as usual, and we’ll talk about them next week. Judging from my page stats, you kids seem to like hearing about them.

Hello, new robot overlords

The leisurely Summer schedule is definitely shot to hell, as I start jumping through hoops to shoot, edit and produce a story on a weekly basis instead of a monthly one. Chances are I’ll be getting less verbose here.

Then again, not every story is going to need the tender loving care of this initial one – I hope! – which is causing me to scour my public domain discs for footage of old sci-fi robots, then trim those scenes out and convert them to a form that Final Cut Pro won’t choke on.

So I’m off to concentrate on that, and dream of the extended crapfest my friends and I have planned for this weekend.

In the meantime, say hello to my leetle friends:

Old friends in unusual places

The shoot yesterday went as well as could be expected, with the weather attempting to kill me both on the way there and especially when trying to get back to home base. Not being proud, I pulled into a parking lot and waited for the worst of the watery onslaught to pass.

The Robots exhibit takes its name and most of its displays from the animated movie of the same name. It’s geared toward kids, and that’s cool. Some nice models of the characters, fromt he reference maquettes to life-size mockups. Some interactive displays, lots of noisy video monitors (can’t wait to check the audio on my interview) but what really struck me, when I walked into the hall, was this:

It’s hard to miss Gort. He’s about seven feet tall. You see him all the time in one of your favorite movies, but you don’t truly recognize how massive he is until you run into him in the wild.

These were unarticulated statues, no movement, lights or anything. But boy howdy, was that a pleasant surprise.

How to get a hangover without drinking

I need a damn long weekend to recover from my long weekend.

Saturday – supposed to be off, but received a call that a couple of groups wanted a show. Thank God. I needed the money after handing my entire paycheck over to the Power Company for August’s feeble attempt to keep my house livable.

Sunday – get up, go immediately to brunch, take wife to theater. Cool my heels for an hour to see if I can get into the sold-out preview for her show, George Bernard Shaw’s The Doctor’s Dilemma at Main Street Theater. Have a latte, get a couple of Marvel Essentials at Half-Price Book’s 20% off Labor Day Sale. Attend show. Shaw is talky as hell, but always interesting. Very good cast kept the show – which was heavily cut for time and still weighs in at nearly three hours – moving at a good clip. It didn’t feel like three hours until I stood up at the end.

Afterwards, walk to nearby Italian restaurant to celebrate the fact that our friend Joel, who starred in the show, has joined the Half-Century Club. Excellent food, way too expensive. But by ordering off a special menu, a portion of our bill did go to the local food bank, so I’m concentrating on that, the food, and the great company.

Yesterday? I have no idea what happened to yesterday. I did break the Summer vacation I took on 50 Foot DVD, and will hopefully manage to keep it going on a bi-weekly basis. Most of my crew on City of Heroes was also in Doctor’s Dilemma, so that was our first chance to crack skulls together in a while. There went the evening. There was also a trip to the grocery store somewhere in there.

Now I sit in my office, preparing to shoot an interview at the Museum of Natural Science. The outer bands of tropical storm Ermine produced thunderstorms all night, keeping me awake. We’re under a tornado watch until 1:00pm. I’m not sure this interview will even happen today, but I need to be prepared.

And look forward to the next long time off. I swear to God I won’t waste that one with activity.

Tremors in my Force

Koike and Kojima’s Path of the Assassin is just as good as I’d hoped it would be. I’m taking it slowly, as I only have the first two books, and won’t be able to hit the library to get more until next Tuesday, at the earliest. Utilizing the system’s on line catalog, I see where I can get up to volume 6, but the others are either on hold or “under review”. Until about vol. 12 of 15, when they open up again. Stuff of this quality is worth waiting for.

Disturbing thingie of the day, yesterday: friend of mine from way back int heater days posted photos on Facebook of a show we did back in 1984, a dismal production of Joe Orton’s What the Butler Saw. It simply wasn’t any good, universally savaged, I was complete shit, blah blah blah. One of the photos though, gave me pause, thinking Who the heck is that? And then the realization: Holy crap, that’s me!

Yep. Quarter of a century ago. I had been on a diet which worked pretty well, but the most important part of the puzzle was that my day job involved eight hours of physical labor a day in a two-story warehouse with no elevator or air conditioning. In short, I was down to probably my best weight ever, about 130-140 pounds. My head looks huge.

I also had an astounding amount of hair.

There’s not much in the plans for this weekend. I won’t get to see the previews for my wife’s shows; Sunday is sold out and, although I wasn’t going to have a show Saturday, a group called in asking if one was possible, so now I do have work Saturday, thank the Lord. I paid the August electric bill last night, producing a sound in my bank account not unlike the formation of a black hole.

Oh, wait, there was another disturbing thing:  while scanning the local news sites for story leads, I found one about a reported incident of masturbation at a local movie theater. The story only indicates that this took place in “theater #17”, but not what movie was playing there. Pulling up the theater’s schedule, I had many comical possibilities, like Nanny McPhee or Toy Story 3, but after that? I guess the best possibilities are Eat Pray Love, or Salt? Then you get into the really disturbing possibilities, like Piranha or The Expendables.

At least, for the sake of my sanity, Machete hadn’t opened yet.


Library trip

So I’m dropping by the library to check in books, and not coincidentally pick up a book I had requested several months ago, but that someone had apparently returned. It’s the first volume of E.C. Segar’s Popeye – yeah, I’m reading them out of order, but that’s how they were presented to me. As I’ve mentioned before, these things are huge without necessarily being massive. 14.5 inches by 10.5 inches. A tad ungainly, but that format shows off the strips well.

While I’m there, I might as well see if there’s anything else I’d like to sample (not that I don’t already have a ton of stuff of my own to read at home, you understand, but a library presents such a buffet of possibilities…). This particular branch has the Bloom County omnibuses, but I’ve already got the Popeye book, which is a pretty dense reading experience. I check to see if the manga section has anymore Osamu Tezuka I haven’t already read, and then I light upon something I’d meant to check out for a while – Kazuo Koike & Goseki Kajima’s Path of the Assassin. Having finished up reading Lone Wolf & Cub years ago, I was glad to learn that these two had other series out, and Dark Horse was translating them into English. Of course, like their Lone Wolf collections, these were small – 6 by 4.

So I exited the library carrying one really big book and two tiny ones. I appreciate contrasts like that.

I’m going to be a total gaijin here and say that wrapping my head around the now-standard way that American editions of manga is bothersome. Japanese books are read from right-to-left, and the books are arranged similarly. Opening an American edition is the traditional Western fashion greets you with a page that says “Stop! This is the back of the book!” Doubtless there was a lot of additional, costly man-hours involved in reversing the artwork for a Western layout, so the American editions now preserve the original layout, and simply slug in the English translations.

I’m willing to bet this also prevents any adulteration of original artist intentions that would result from simply reversing the art’s image. I’m no artist myself, and when more knowledgeable people talk about black masses on the page and the elements of a page drawing the reader’s eye to a focal point I go Wowwwwwww and Fancy that! It’s invisible to me, but I can feel and appreciate their effect.

One of the Tezuka books I had checked out, explaining the Japanese layout of the book, exclaimed, “Trying new things makes you smarter! Try it and see!” and I find myself adapting easily enough to the right-to-left, but the multi-tasking – there’s a small part of my attention that is devoted to constantly reminding me to read right-to-left – is also a little distancing, and I’m not feeling as connected to the manga as I do to other comics read in the traditional way.  I can only look at that as a personal failing, and work to correct it.

It’s a conundrum

After an evening of no recourse to City of Whatever, my hands are only shaking slightly.

Finally took in the second episode of Slings & Arrows, in which I suspect the dynamics for the rest of the season have been properly set up. I wasn’t as sidetracked by near-toxic nostalgia and longing as I was during the first episode, but I sense I still need to take my time in consuming this show. The writing is sharp and knowledgeable, the acting spot-on, and boy howdy, do I miss the theater right now.

I am also hoping that more characters die so the undertakers become regular characters. I really, really enjoyed them.

Finished up The Batman Chronicles, Volume 3, beating the deadline by one day. That was quite a binge on Golden Age comics, but was a fun read, especially since A) we got to see Batman use a gun again; and B) the surprising revelation that in 1941, the Batmobile was a bright red.

Since I’m dropping by the library, I also finished up Osamu Tezuka’s Apollo’s Song, as I am discovering that my library system has a fair amount of Tezuka floating around. This is a thick book – Tezuka rarely took the short path in his storytelling – about a young sociopath who is cursed by Athena to discover love over and over again, but to always have it snatched away. Or maybe he’s just insane and hallucinating it all. It’s an unusual story, and pretty harrowing in places, but never less than gripping.

The big news is I have a lunch meeting with a producer I’ve worked for in the past, which hopefully means more work for me. Kindly lay out whatever oracles, mojos and jujus you may have for me, for things are, as they say, getting kinda short over here. That’s why I finished the books a day ahead of schedule – I’m hoping I won’t have time to drop by the library tomorrow.

That’s my big news. I should have saved it for tomorrow, but then what would I have used to go out on a high note today?

I got nuthin’. Well, okay, Batman.

I wound up not watching the second episode of Slings & Arrows last night. Real life intruded a bit too much to set aside an hour. Well, that’s a lie, one of my gaming buddies who hasn’t been around a lot due to rehearsals was online, and we played Going Rogue for far too long.

I got an e-mail from NC Soft this morning that my time cards had expired, and I think I’m going to lay off it for a while; I have some time codes saved, but I need that hour or two every evening to do other stuff. Summer’s over, and it’s time to start getting serious about 50 Foot DVD again.  The discs and books have been stacking up, and although my hand-me-down reading chair finally gave up the ghost (converting itself from a recliner to a permanent semi-recliner), I’m ready to get back to some serious book time. Even if I am propping my feet up on a toolbox.

So maybe I’ll watch Slings & Arrows tonight. Or finish reading Batman Chronicles, V 3, as the library wants it back Thursday. Apparently somebody else has requested it, so I can’t extend my possession – somebody else in the county reads Batman? Fancy that.

Reading the Chronicle books – which present DC comic character stories in chronological order – has been educational. Watching creators struggle with a new medium is an interesting process. By the second volume of the Batman Chronicles, writer Bill Finger had started to develop a solid formula that he would continue to exploit again and again: stories with large casts of characters that would be affected by the story’s turn of events and interaction with Batman and Robin.

The first Clayface story (one of many different Clayfaces, too), is a well-developed murder mystery, complete with red herrings. There’s one story where Batman and Robin use their crimefighting skills to deliver John Hughes-style life lessons to neglectful rich parents. This morning I read a story about modern-day pirates (though still on a schooner and brandishing cutlasses) where, in aiding the Dynamic Duo, various of the hostages re-discovered their masculinity, their inner strength, and their very reasons to go on living. Though I prefer my brooding Dark Detective who has made plans for every possible eventuality, it’s really fun to see Batman as Life Coach.

Then, I also have the second volume of Showcase Presents World’s Finest, which means it’s time for some Bat-Mite. I kinda miss Bat-Mite.

My emo reaction (and please shoot me)

So one of my very oldest and dearest friends, Scott, was waxing eloquent to me about this Canadian series he positively loves, Slings and Arrows. His wife tracked down the box set of the entire series, and Scott pressed into my hands the first two discs, the first season. “Let me know what you think.” he said.

Now, Scott and I are both, basically, theater people. Scott blames me for corrupting him; he did speech tournaments with me and others back in high school, but it was in college that he really caught the bug, and switched his major. He was one of the student directors awarded an actual slot in the season at the college, and it was one of the best shows I’ve ever done in my life – Tribute.

So. Slings and Arrows is about theater, obviously. I’ve only seen the first episode so far, and I have to say that its primary impact is to plunge me into a deep state of melancholy. This was not what I was expecting, as I had been told, by various people, to expect something that was “hilarious”, or “pure bliss”.  Those adjectives have increased, since I admitted to this state of affairs on Twitter, and therefore Facebook.

The major thrust of the series is a trio of theater professionals, director, actor and actress, who years ago did a definitive version of Hamlet that was so good, the actor had a “mental breakdown”, ending his career. Years later, the director is the Artistic Director of the New Burbage Theater, churning out increasingly commercial and empty productions of Shakespeare, the actress is bitter that she has grown into playing Gertrude rather than Ophelia, and the actor is chaining himself to the door of his ramshackle warehouse theater to protest being evicted for non-payment of rent.

This is really good, terrific TV. It’s obviously being written by theater people, because I recognize all these people, I recognize the thwarted passion, each and every thing rings absolutely true. There is only the smallest intimation of what happened after that premiere of Hamlet, but I recognize there is heartbreak ahead, and I find myself identifying too closely with the characters. Way too closely. Way, way way too closely.

Yes, I’m sure it lightens up in the second episode. Yes, I’m going to watch it tonight. Yes, I’m still unsure as to what my reaction will be.

This is rather like the time back in the late 80s when I was going through a really terrible patch and was horribly depressed. Clinical, probably, but that’s sort of beside the point. Well, maybe not. Anyway, my best friend Diane – we spent most of the late 80s and early 90s keeping each other sane – brought over Sid and Nancy, recently released on video, to cheer me up.

It made me even more depressed.

But you know, on the other hand? I’ve often remarked that I envied other people’s ability to still be affected by media. This was largely about people who can actually be frightened by horror movies anymore, but the point remains the same: I thought I was jaded and untouchable, but I have to admit Slings and Arrows has, indeed, touched me – just not in the way I expected.

The Aftermath, It Turns Out, Is Boring

Okay, let’s start winding down a pretty hectic week.

Film festival weekend, funeral trip Monday with included double blow-out action. Tuesday spent catching up on stuff put off during last four days, and trip to country seat to shoot story on Women’s Shelter. Wednesday is staff meeting, but not much else, thankfully. Yesterday, load-in for live broadcast of School District budget hearings, then tear-down, pack, and return equipment to home base.

Budget meeting: well, there’s no real way to make this stuff interesting, except to randomly interject car chases and ninja attacks (hey, it worked for Cannon Films), but as this was not in the budget, I will settle for being thankful that they held it down to two hours (these things have gone eight hours and more in the past) and that there were sammiches and cookies.

Today… not much, again thankfully. Not seeing the salaried folk this morning, and I don’t blame them. Need to return some library books that were due yesterday, and wouldn’t you know it, their Web page was offline so I couldn’t renew them. Ah, well. Looking forward to Sunday, which looks to be an actual day off, but I have a sneaking, sinking feeling that something will come along.

Tiredly, I wave bye-bye and wish you a good weekend. And ask you to cross your fingers for mine.