Flashback Friday: X-Men

xmen

There are many different entries I could make on this particular topic, focusing on the comics, the movies, the characters, or a little bit of it all. For the purposes of this Flashback, however, I just want to focus on the Saturday morning cartoon that ran from 1992 to 1997.

Actually, all I really want to focus on is the theme song from the cartoon, which was another of the themes discussed during the podcast mentioned in my last Flashback. Of all the cartoon themes from my adolescence, this is definitely on my list of Top Ten Favorites:

https://www.youtube-nocookie.com/embed/wZAhqEiq4cA

Not only did I love the theme, I adored the cartoon. It was 30 minutes of awesome every Saturday morning at 11 (I always suspected that Fox aired the cartoon so late in the morning because it was geared more toward teens than younger children…and we sure could sleep late when we were teens, eh?). This was also my gateway into the wide wonderful world, not just of this merry band of mutants, but of comics in general. This cartoon made me see comics as something more than silly drawings. The shows were smart and relevant, the characters believable (for the most part) and flawed and provocative, giving me a glimpse of how comics and cartoons had the potential to be something deeper, something greater. They could be full of social commentary, challenging notions, incendiary thoughts…hidden within the line art and primary colors of a cartoon world.

Funny how a half hour Saturday morning cartoon could open up such possibility, especially considering the fact that the show aired during the insouciance of my adolescent years.

Also, these were the character iterations of many of the primary X-Men I first met and, ultimately, the iterations with whom I fell madly, truly, deeply in love. No matter how different they now look, or even how different they looked in this cartoon from their original versions, whenever I think of these particular X-Men, I envision them just as they appeared in this cartoon…massive shoulder pads, yellow spandex, and all.

Maybe at some other point, I’ll say more on the X-Men. For now, though, I’m just going to leave this metal guitar version of the theme song right here, for your enjoyment. Rock on, my mutants. Rock on.

https://www.youtube-nocookie.com/embed/6Nm7wKc9VB8

Flashback Friday: Spuds MacKenzie

spuds

Wouldn’t you have wanted to have been in on the brainstorming session that let to the invention of Spuds MacKenzie, Bud Light’s “Original Party Animal”? I mean, honestly, what could that pitch have possibly sounded like?

“Well, gentlemen, we’re here to come up with a new advertising campaign to yet again distract drinkers from the fact that our product tastes like it came out the wrong end of one of our Clydesdales. So what I propose is that we create a character guaranteed to secure our place with a heretofore completely untapped market: children. Children and really stupid adults gullible enough to believe that if our beer is good enough to get hot chicks for a dog…it’ll be good enough to do the same for them.”

And thus Spuds MacKenzie was born, and Anheuser-Busch secured their place, right alongside Camel cigarettes and their cartoon-cool mascot Joe, as unscrupulous capitalists so hell-bent on making money that they would willingly market their drugs of choice to kids.

Of course, Anheuser-Busch swore ignorance. How dare you all! Spuds wasn’t for kids! If he were meant to attract kids, there would have been stuffed animals and T-shirts and toys and cartoon versions and…oh.

Yeah. How do I know Spuds was meant for kids? Because I was a kid when he first appeared in the late 80s…and I loved him. I used to draw him. I had a couple of stuffed Spuds. I even once got in trouble at my uptight religious school for wearing a Spuds MacKenzie T-Shirt to class one day (admittedly not the brightest choice, but I was 11). The teacher told me that I either had to go into the restroom and turn my shirt inside out or he would have to call my parents and send me home. Looking back, I should have taken option B. Oh, and for the record, this was the shirt I had, only mine was white rather than yellow:

spudsshirt

Look at that adorable cartoony punim! Spuds was totally for kids. True, they softened the blow (or perhaps hardened it?) by adding the “Spudettes,” a bevvy of beautiful women who accompanied Spuds wherever his adventurous beer-swilling life led him: the beach, the red carpet, the Olympics. Bud Light, the beer of gold medalists the world over!

[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=deqx2VeiLaY&w=480&h=360]

Right.

We were all so very young and innocent once, denizens. Most of us. Some of us were just stupid.

While looking at some commercials on YouTube for ones to post with this Flashback, I came across this bizarre snippet from some Dick Clark show. It’s of Clark “interviewing” Spuds MacKenzie…although, really, it’s just Clark chatting up the Spudettes while Spuds sat on one of their laps in a doggie-sized tuxedo. Two things to note: Lela Rochon, who would later appear in movies like Harlem Nights, Boomerang, Waiting to Exhale, and Any Given Sunday, was one of the Spudettes; and the poor dog is so pathetically doped that PETA should have done an emergency rescue after this was aired:

[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z6guVf_EBHs&w=560&h=315]

One thing to note from this clip (just one?!): the dog that played Spuds MacKenzie actually was a female Bull Terrier (named, of all things, Honey Tree Evil Eye, according to the scion of truth, Wikipedia). Because, really, who wants dog peener in a commercial for a beer that already tastes like pee?

[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9Fm3_kj9DL8&w=480&h=360]

P.S. – Robin Leach, really? Really?

BookBin2013: Mortuary Confidential: Undertakers Spill the Dirt

mortuary

Ah, nothing like starting the new BookBin off with a happy read, no? I’ve had Mortuary Confidential, compiled by funeral directors Kenneth McKenzie and Todd Harra, since the summer (it was actually bought for me as “beach reading,” but I wasn’t able to finish my other books quickly enough to partake of such a delightfully macabre experience as reading a book like this surrounded by sea, sand, and sun).

The first thing I noticed when I flipped open my copy was a large advertisement, printed on the inside of the front cover, for Never Suck a Dead Man’s Hand: Curious Adventures of a CSI. I’ve read CSI Dana Kollmann’s book. It was one of my favorite finds for 2011. I took this as a good omen. Looking back, I realize that it was just a publication company advertising another of their books that they thought might “pair well” with the obvious death themes of Mortuary Confidential.

That’s not to say that I didn’t enjoy this book. It was entertaining enough, full of anecdotes that were poignant, funny, informative, and odd. In our world of constant online connectivity, though, I feel like books like this would be better served as a blog to which people can constantly contribute stories. Something, perhaps, like The Darwin Awards (which also lost a great deal of its quirky charm, imho, when turned into a book series). Something interactive, constantly growing, constantly changing. I suppose what I’m ultimately saying is that this concept seems too…alive to be limited to staid book status.

Final Verdict: I enjoyed reading Mortuary Confidential, but I don’t think I would ever revisit it. Again, though, if this were an interactive site, with new stories added constantly, I believe I would definitely bookmark it for regular visits.

BookBin2012: Blacksad: A Silent Hell

blacksadsilenthell

I know, I know: It’s no longer officially 2012. However, I did finish this book last year (ooh, that feels so weird to write), so it still qualifies…even if I was too lazy to get here to post the review before the calendar switched.

You might recall that a couple of years ago, I read and completely fell in love with the first Blacksad collection. Of course, the moment I learned there was a new book, I didn’t even hesitate. I hit that one-click order button on Amazon.com faster than you can say anthropomorphic animals.

This time, rather than being a collection of stories, Blacksad: A Silent Hell is only one story, plus a couple of somewhat lackluster shorts at the end. However, the main story is full of that film noir fury that made the first collection so enjoyable and memorable for me. Also, it’s another chance to enjoy the luscious artwork of Juanjo Guarnido. Honestly, denizens, he’s one of the most amazing artists working in the field today. Each panel is amazing, and honestly I believe he even bested his previous Blacksad work with some incredible artistry for A Silent Hell. Gorgeous. Simply gorgeous.

There’s not much else to say. It’s a gritty detective tale, this time set in New Orleans. I have to admit, I did enjoy the fact that it was set in the Big Easy. I enjoyed even more my own personal “Where’s Waldo” moment when I spotted a character in the foreground of one of the crowded street scenes who was obviously based on the physical characteristics of a very famous New Orleans literary figure. I’ll leave it at that. But I’ll be sure to make a note of his appearance in one of my Big Chief writing tablets. (A nice cold Dr. Nut to the first person to crack this code.)

Guarnido gave an enormous level of effort in getting details of the city and its outlying areas as close to recognizable as possible. So close that at times I could almost hear the rattle of the street cars as they lumbered through the Magazine district or the raging jazz and blues as they tumbled out of open doors and into the deepest corners of the French Quarter. If I haven’t made this point yet to you, please note: Guarnido’s artwork makes every page worth studying, absorbing, enjoying, and finally returning to over and over again.

Final Verdict: Definitely a keeper, already nestled onto my shelf, right next to its “big brother” Blacksad. And thus ends my reading efforts for 2012. I made it to 40 books in 2012, which was 11 shy of my record since I started writing reviews here at the lair and 6 shy of my reads from last year. I’m okay with this. I’m less okay with the fact that I only read 6 books from my own collection while I read 30 from the library. If I’d read 30 from my own collection, I could have almost completely obliterated at least two of the stacks of books piled up around my nightstand! So I’m going to make a concerted effort this year to again focus on my own collection. Is that my resolution? I suppose it is.

Read on, denizens. Read on…

BookBin2012: Buffy The Vampire Slayer: Omnibus 1-4

Some of you may already know that I have spent slightly more than a year in the idyllic little slice of hell life known as The Buffyverse. In fact, I just recently finished my sojourn with the viewing of the last episode of Angel.

Being the overachieving geek that I am, of course, I couldn’t leave it at tormenting myself with the shows only. Oh no! There are comics as well, my friends! In fact, both Buffy and Angel continue on in comics-based “seasons.” Prior to this, however, the shows had regular release comics, running concurrently with the shows…just like Star Trek or The X-Files.

Just like Star Trek or The X-Files, these early non-canonical comics are spotty in their storytelling attempts, but more often than not simply awful to behold. On all levels. The artwork is questionable in its best form. In most forms, it’s the equivalent of a hydrochloric eye wash. Seriously, if you cannot find someone able to tell your story in a visually pleasing style, you need to reconsider telling your story in graphic form. Many of the comics are illustrated in poorly chosen styles, some looking so amateurish and off-putting that the artwork distracted me completely from the story itself.

Thankfully, Cliff Richards did a lot of the artwork throughout these first four Buffy the Vampire Slayer: Omnibus volumes. His style is far more aesthetically pleasing than some of the more obtuse styles throughout these volumes, albeit more traditional as well. What can I say? I’m just an old-fashioned wolf at heart, I guess. Not even Richards, however, could meet the challenge of making the characters look like their actor counterparts. This is something that I notice in every show- or movie-based graphic novel tie-in: The comic characters very rarely look like the actors.

I’m somewhat all right with this, but it’s because I have decided that the artists do this as a means of signaling that, hey, this isn’t Sarah Michelle Gellar. This is Buffy. And she only looks like Sarah Michelle Gellar when Sarah Michelle Gellar is playing her. Elsewhere? She looks like this. Or this. Or this. The artist is ultimately true to the character, not the player. Does that make sense?

Of course, that being said, sometimes we then end up with comic characters that look like this little slice of WTF:

And believe me when I state that there were worse visual offenses than this throughout these volumes. For the most part, however, I think my biggest quibble with a lot of the artwork was the fact that more often than not, Willow was a brunette. Um…wha? That’s as irritating as a certain TNG novelist writing that Dr. Crusher has green eyes. Again, if you want to be taken seriously, you kind of have to get basics right. I know I just wrote that the artist must remain true to the character rather than the actor with comics…but when you’re not drawing your characters to look like the actors, you need some kind of universal visual to signal that this is Willow and not Cordelia, which honestly became an issue for me with some of the more non-traditional artwork.

That being said, I would like to hug the artist responsible for the cover art for the third volume of this set. Why?

Well played. So very well played.

Oh, and in case you were wondering, I chose to read the first four volumes of the Buffy Omnibus because they were readily available through our local library. Only these volumes, however. Honestly? I’m okay with that. Only getting to read the first four volumes is more than okay with me.

As for the stories, they were mostly…unmemorable. Some were short little one-shots that made absolutely no sense and held no point beyond the one being wielded by the Slayer against whatever demonic ick she was facing at the moment.

There were standouts, however. Actually, I’m going to say that the first volume in its entirety was the most enjoyable of the four, and very much worth reading. It begins with a graphic rendering of the original Joss Whedon script for the movie that started all this insanity.

Remember that movie? Yeah.

Well, apparently, it was supposed to be much darker…still possessing pop culture awareness, humor, and kitsch, but also infused with deep shades of melancholy and despair.

Kind of like what the show often tried to be.

The original movie story actually wasn’t bad. Neither was the follow-up arc “Slayer, Interrupted,” which chronicled Buffy’s brief institutionalization that was referenced a few times on the show. It also shows the tangential travails of one Rupert Giles, who wishes to earn the Council’s approval as the next assigned Watcher. The Giles storyline is fairly decent as well and plays quite nicely in conjunction with Buffy’s arc, bringing them together slowly and convincingly until they finally cross in good old Sunnydale.

Before we get the recognizable arrangement of Buffy and Giles and the Scooby Gang, however, we get Volume 2’s “A Stake to the Heart.” This was probably my favorite story arc of all four volumes. It details the end of Buffy’s parents’ marriage and Joyce’s subsequent decision to move her daughters to Sunnydale. It’s quite a dark, grim tale in which Angel accidentally releases a band of “malignancy demons” upon Buffy in an attempt to cast a spell to protect her from the miseries and pressures of life that surround her.

Oops.

Admittedly, it’s a silly sounding premise for a story. However, the artwork is the finest of the lot

BookBin2012: The Murder at the Vicarage

It’s finally happened, denizens. I am no longer an Agatha Christie virgin.

It was bound to take place sooner or later. One simply cannot claim a love of literature without giving a go to all those “prime suspect” authors whose works continue to be highly revered by fans and critics of their respective genres.

I suppose I was late to the Christie party because her novels reign within a literary realm I rarely visit: the detective genre. I’m still not really sure why this genre is so hit-or-miss with me, but I do keep giving it a go. One day, something from its hallowed halls will simply knock my socks off.

The Murder at the Vicarage wasn’t necessarily the sock-knocking “something” in question. Not that I was expecting it to be. Honestly, I wasn’t quite certain what to expect. I have seen several of the BBC Miss Marple and Poirot offerings, but I don’t think I ever paid attention to them while watching them. They were sort of background noise while I did something else. And even though I claim to be quite the Anglophile and to have a deeply genetic connection to all things England, I’ve never even considered going to see The Mousetrap while in London.

So what to think of this novel? I was delighted to realize that it was the very first appearance of Miss Marple, that ingenious “spinster sleuth” who starred in one of Christie’s detective serials. I didn’t know at first where this novel fit into Christie’s oeuvre. All I knew was that it was the only one of her novels offered through Amazon’s free Kindle collection. Free is a great incentive to finally give something a go, eh?

As for the story itself, it’s quite…comforting, actually (an odd description, to be sure, for a murder mystery!). Small village tale told in a compelling, lucid voice. Quietly ingenious characters and simple deductive reasoning from a quaint “heroine” of subdued charm and sharp reasoning. An exemplary example of storytelling from another time, another place. I imagine it would be considered dull or pointless to many today. A shame, though. I quite enjoyed it.

I’m also still enjoying my Kindle experience (segue, ho!), and I particularly enjoyed the fact that I was able to go straight to Amazon’s Kindle section to learn more about Christie’s works immediately after finishing The Murder at the Vicarage (even though it was almost midnight and I’d been in bed for almost an hour by that point). Very nice.

What I don’t like is the fact that it seems that Amazon is slowly whittling away its free library. Whereas I was able to download this novel for free, Amazon has now once more listed it as a purchase-only offering. I can’t help but wonder how many other books they’ve shifted from their free section as the popularity of the Kindle continues to grow. Glad I went on that free spree right after I received this for my birfday!

Final Verdict: Christie shall be staying on my Kindle. Perhaps soon enough I shall track down the next entry in Miss Marple’s adventures. Or maybe even…Poirot!

BookBin2012: Death’s Daughter

Here’s another book I finished back in September. Huzzah!

Death’s Daughter is the first in the Calliope Reaper-Jones series penned by Amber Benson.

Full disclosure: I only chose to read this novel because it was written by Amber Benson. Yes, she played Tara on Buffy The Vampire Slayer. Yes, I just watched this show for the first time. No, I’m not getting into the details of what I thought.

At least not here.

Tara was one of my favorite characters, and I attribute a great deal of that to Benson’s portrayal, which was sensitive, strong, funny, and ultimately heart-breaking in so many ways. Of course, when I learned that she was now carving a path for herself in the literary world, I was intrigued.

So, here’s the thing: Just like Buffy was a soap opera disguised as a fantasy show, Death’s Daughter is chick lit disguised as a fantasy novel. Unfortunately, fantasy is an iffy enough genre for me on its own, but when you combine it with the even less appealing “chick lit” genre…well, you’re inching dangerously close to the edge of my ability to stay focused on what you’re trying to tell me.

Still, Amber Benson.

Here’s a quick plot summary: Calliope Reaper-Jones is, indeed Death’s Daughter. His middle daughter, to be precise. She doesn’t want anything to do with her family or the decidedly depressing family business, so she wipes her memory and takes off for New York City, to make her own way. However, her plan of blissful normalcy is obliterated when her father is kidnapped and she is tasked with finding him.

Indeed, hilarity does thus ensue.

Truth be told, this book feeds a bit too heavily upon the tropes of traditional chick lit for it to really appeal to me. Calliope is a bit too…Carrie Bradshaw at times. I probably wouldn’t have minded if she’d been more Samantha Jones, but that might have been too feisty for what I’m assuming is a book marketed to Young Adults as well as the Terminally Geeky.

And I have now pretty much exhausted my knowledge of Sex and the City. Thank the prophets.

“Callie,” as she is called, fits the fantasy trope bill of “unwilling hero/ine” quite well. She does not want this duty. She is unprepared and even a bit whiny about the entire ordeal. I can’t say I wouldn’t be the same since I’ve never found myself tasked with temporarily being “Death” and dealing with all variety of strange and sometimes scary underworld characters. Still…this novel confirmed for me that chick lit AND fantasy make for a very difficult journey at times.

Then again, Amber Benson.

I wanted to like this book. On certain levels, I did. It was a light and oftentimes funny read. The plot, while dependent upon many very familiar tropes of the genres, was well-considered and intriguingly executed. The fact that it falls within the boundaries of genres that I typically do not enjoy is not a reflection of its merit but rather a reflection of my own personal limits.

Final Verdict: I’m hanging onto this one for now, simply because I’m still debating whether or not I wish to read more about Death’s Daughter. As of now, there are three other Calliope Reaper-Jones novels, with a new one scheduled for a February 2013 release. I’m honestly curious as to whether the journey that Callie endured in this first novel changes her in ways that I might find a bit more enjoyable.

Also? Amber Benson.