Author: lobablanca

BookBin2013: We3

~ lobablanca

we3

Obviously, I’ve been hitting up the library quite a bit in this last half of 2013. This past trip, I spent even more time than usual in the graphic novel section. Seems they got a new shipment of books in recently, and I couldn’t help myself. That’s the only way I can explain how I ended up with this strange three-comic collection, We3, written by Grant Morrison and illustrated by Frank Quitely (Scotland Tag Team, woot!).

“We3” stands for “Animal Weapon 3,” a government experiment to turn common house pets into lethal weapons. This particular group of weaponized animals, the third in a series of tests, consists of three pets stolen from the streets: a brown Labrador mix named Bandit, a tabby cat named Tinker, and a black and white rabbit named Pirate (yeah, I’m not really sure why the rabbit was hopping out on the streets either). They are reclassified (rather originally) as “1,” “2,” and “3” and outfitted with body armor that contains missiles, razor-sharp claws, machine guns, and mines. Scientists also somehow soup up their brains to a point where they can speak in rather rudimentary ways.

Yes, before you even say it, the basic story does sound a bit silly. Then again, with a culture as obsessed with war and destruction as we are, sometimes I wonder if we even have limits to what we would be willing to do in the name of defending ourselves.

Beyond finding the concept both silly and disturbing, I just felt depressed after reading this book (even with the questionably “happy” ending). Still, kudos to Morrison for writing a compelling story and to Quitely for beautiful artwork.

Final Verdict: This series posed an interesting (and definitely unsettling) question about our limits when it comes to war, but I don’t feel as if it’s a question that I want to revisit exploring. Perhaps that’s my own unwillingness to face this particular darkness that surges through humanity and that could actually cause us to consider doing something like this…or worse. We send children to die “for [insert deity of choice here] and country” all the time. Sometimes, even someone as jaded and dark as I can be prefers to put some things out of mind.

BookBin2013: Spook: Science Tackles the Afterlife

~ lobablanca

spook

I enjoyed Mary Roach’s first appearance here at the lair so much that…rather than read the book of hers that I have owned for almost a decade and still have not read, I found the other book of hers that our local library had in stock and borrowed that instead!

I probably should have gone with the book I already own. I suspect that it would have been more entertaining. That’s not to say that there is nothing enjoyable about Roach’s second book, Spook: Science Tackles the Afterlife. There are several interesting, strange, funny, and disgusting portions of this book that amused (or traumatized) me greatly. Holistically, though, it’s quite an uneven read with a painfully slow start. I think it took me a full four chapters before I finally started enjoy the read. It’s also painfully obvious that Roach doesn’t really believe in any of the things about which she’s writing.

I can’t completely fault her for this outlook. Tackling aspects of the afterlife when there’s not really anything that you can do to prove anything pertaining to the topic…it can be a hard pill to swallow, for sure. But that doesn’t mean that you have to be so…patronizing about it all. Her obvious “Scully” stance on this subject infiltrates every chapter.

To be fair, I have somewhat set thoughts on the “afterlife,” but I’m still not 100-percent certain what I believe (which is why books like this appeal to me in theory). After reading this book, I’m quite certain I know how Roach feels about it all. However, that wasn’t my interest in this book and it wasn’t my hope when I decided to read it. I simply wanted to learn more about other cultures’ views as well as some of the experiments performed in the hopes of applying science to faith. I got that, but I definitely could have done without the accompanying patina of Roach’s incredulity concerning everything she discussed.

Still, there are some interesting portions, as I mentioned. You simply have to suss out the interesting from the supercilious.

Final Verdict: I do believe I shall pass on adding this book to my library. I also really do need to read Stiff at some point in 2014…along with all the other books in my library that I’ve still not tackled. No, seriously. STOP LAUGHING.

BookBin2013: Reel Terror: The Scary, Bloody, Gory, Hundred-Year History of Classic Horror Films

~ lobablanca

reelterror

This is a first for this year, denizens. This started out as a library loan that I simply couldn’t finish before I had to return it…so I just went ahead and skipped adding it to my wish list, instead buying my own copy right away. I was enjoying it so much while reading it that I knew I was going to want a copy for my own library anyway (guess you can guess what the Final Verdict is going to be today, eh?).

You all know how much I love horror movies. As someone who has been a fan of the genre longer than even sci-fi and Star Trek, I tend to read and watch a lot about horror movies. Therefore, I can say that, from the perspective of a die-hard horror fan, David Konow’s anthology Reel Terror didn’t provide a lot of stuff that I didn’t already know, but did provide a nice timeline of the evolution of cinematic horror as well as an outline of some of the biggest movie high points. The book would be a good genre guide for those who might not be as well-versed in horror trivia but would like to learn more.

To be fair, the book does feel a bit redundant in light of the special edition DVDs of the movies Konow covers, which all have special features that cover a lot of the same ground. Also, a lot of the really big horror franchises have documentaries that cover way more ground in way more detail. For example, if you’re a Freddy Krueger fan, get thee to a copy of the documentary Never Sleep Again…or…just…here:

[hulu id=tbspev-i2zgahnxb13hchw width=512]

It’s also kind of strange how Konow shifts from a more holistic history of the genre in its early days to more specific movies once he reaches more recent times. I guess that’s because he’s more in his comfort zone with modern films that more people know. Then again, isn’t that more reason to go into more detail on the early stuff? So that more people know about them and discover their importance to the genre?

And, since I am an editorial nitpicker, I have to say, this anthology needs an editor STAT. Sentences need tightening, grammar needs correcting, facts need checking. Come on, now. Don’t let poor editing wreck a decent book (and some of the mistakes are really quite jarring).

All this aside, Reel Terror is a nice compendium full of fun facts for both beginners and old pros to the horror scene. If you like the genre or are interested in getting more into the genre, I think this book might be for you (you might want to wait until the next edition, though…maybe, just maybe, it will be properly edited!).

Final Verdict: Um. Yeah. You all are lovely smarties. You know the answer.

Saturdays Are a Scream

~ lobablanca

Hey, there denizens. I was actually planning on doing a holiday-themed Flashback Friday for you last night. However, my plans were thwarted by the subject in question being way too overprotective about YouTube clips. And, trust me, this is definitely a visual.

Instead, I’m giving you this alternative. A few months ago, we took what has become in recent years an annual trip to San Francisco, both for a little bit of work and a little bit of play. Okay, it was all play for me. Part of that play was spending a few days up in the Sonoma region, as any fan of drinking is apt to do. Honestly, though, it’s also a beautiful region; I’ve got loads of photos that I really need to upload here at some point.

Today’s batch of photos, however, are all related to a bit of a pilgrimage that I decided to take this year. Any regulars to the lair know that I have quite a bit of love in my heart for the horror movie Scream. The film, set in the fictional California town of Woodsboro, actually was filmed all throughout northern California, including the towns of Glen Ellen, Sonoma, Healdsburg, Tomales Bay (where Sara Sidle was born; geek love crossover!!), Santa Rosa…places that we go through or to every single time we stay up in this area.

So I did a little surreptitious research prior to leaving, tracked down addresses, made sure I packed my GPS and car charger, made sure I had fresh charges on my camera battery packs…and we were off! Time to track down the locations where director Wes Craven made the idyllicly horrifying town of Woodsboro come to life…and horrorific death.

First stop was Woodsboro High:

woodsborohigh_screencap1

The location they used was in fact the Sonoma Community Center in Sonoma, California:

WoodsboroHigh1

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The filmmakers were supposed to use Santa Rosa High School, but the City of Santa Rosa reneged after reading the script and deciding that the movie was too violent. If you watch the credits all the way through, you will notice that Craven gives a “special” thanks to Santa Rosa for this decision.

I found it amazing that Craven was able to take such a small space as the community center and make it believable as a public high school. I was honestly stunned by how small the center is, and how tucked away in a neighborhood it is. If you didn’t know its horror history, you’d drive right past it without a second thought, merrily on your way to one of the nearby wineries.

Of course, associated with Woodsboro High was Woodsboro Square, where all the kids could hear Principal Himbry tell them over the PA system how much he cared about them:

woodsborosquare_screencap

This pavilion is still in Healdsburg’s town square, minus the overhang they built in front of it:

woodsborosquare

And of course, the fountain where Sidney and her friends met up?

woodsborofountain_screencap

It’s still there as well. I hung out for a little while, but Sidney never showed.

woodsborohighfountain

Healdsburg actually doubled for Woodsboro in several scenes, including the police station scenes. The “police station” is now a little market. Ironically, the Healdsburg Police Station is right next door, which means that this alleyway, soon to be the location of “Bam! Bitch went down!”:

policealley_screencap

Is still a police-associated alley…just with the police station on the opposite side:

policealley

Next stop on my creepy stalker tour was Casey Becker’s house:

beckerhouse_screencap

The house, located in Glen Ellen, actually isn’t visible from the road. I found this to be true for both the houses I tried to visit. These foggy early morning shots of the mountains near where the Becker house is located are the closest I could get:

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Same with the Prescott house:

prescotthouse_screencap

The closest I was able to get to this house was to take a photo of the drive leading up into the neighborhood, but the big gate at the beginning prevented me from actually driving up there…unless, of course, I had been daring enough to buzz the guard and explain that I just wanted to creeper-stalk the “home” of Sidney Prescott. I’m sure they would have immediately let me in. Totally.

prescott_driveway

It’s a shame I couldn’t get up to this house…not only because Sidney Prescott is one of my favorite horror heroines, but also because I would have loved to have been able to catch a glimpse or two of this amazing view that the Prescott house overlooks:

prescottvista_screencap

These two experiences with trying to get to these houses got me thinking a bit more about the movie in ways that I hadn’t really considered all that closely. Got me thinking to the point where I started formulating my own “thesis” for some imagined film studies class…I would call it “Woodsboro: The High Cost of Isolation” or something equally undergrad-clever. Almost every house they used for Scream fit this same mold: beautiful, sprawling property, nestled far off main roads, cut off from traffic, from city life, from everyone. The initial purpose of this is obvious: You want your characters to feel cut off, alone, trapped by the killers. But there’s more to this if you keep looking.

Houses like where Sidney, Casey, and Stu live are muy expensivo. Takes a lot to afford these levels of privacy. So you’ve got well-off families, enjoying the privilege of solitude that money can buy. The parents of all these kids also obviously enjoy other privileges of money. Think about it: The parents are almost non-existent in this movie (as is usually the case with teen-centric horror movies). Casey’s parents are out enjoying an evening alone while their daughter settles into an obviously familiar “all by myself” routine, Sidney’s dad leaves her alone because he has an out-of-town work meeting (can’t afford a view that beautiful and sprawling unless you’re working some serious hours, Mr. Prescott), Billy’s dad stays out late, Stu’s parents aren’t even seen. The only parent that seems even remotely interested in her children’s lives is Mrs. Riley, Tatum and Dewey’s mom.

Even worse? Sidney’s dad leaves her alone on the first anniversary of her mother’s murder. Here’s a man either so uncaring or so emotionally damaged by what happened to his wife that he removes himself from the entire scene rather than deal with the emotions that such an anniversary would no doubt incite. Everyone has their own way of dealing with trauma, but he has completely ignored the needs of his daughter at this time. True, he was captured and perhaps he was meant to be home by the actual anniversary…but I don’t think so.

Then there’s Billy. They don’t really go into it a lot, but obviously Mr. Loomis was a bit of a dead-beat dad. Even though he was still there, taking care of his son in light of the fact that Billy’s mom left…well, let’s be honest, Sid…the reason she left was because Billy’s dad was a naughty boy who still liked staying out late, even when his son finds himself locked up by the local police. So the only time we see Mr. Loomis is when he comes to bail out his son. There financially, not there in any other way.

So no real parental supervision, including one parent who disregards the fact that he has a daughter still damaged by what happened to their family a year prior and another father not really that interested in how his son is coping with the fact that he caused the son’s mother to leave through infidelity. Oh yeah, infidelity with the now-dead mother of his son’s girlfriend.

Kids raised in environments in which they obviously never want for anything material…but are sorely lacking in emotional guidance and nurturing.

Of course, I’m probably reading way too much into all this. But I think there’s something there, some commentary on the darkness of material wealth when combined with moral or emotional bankruptcy. Of course, Mr. and Mrs. Macher might have been Ward and June Cleaver. We don’t know, though. Never will.

And now I need to go watch this movie yet again and look for moments to support this new thesis. Hope you enjoyed my tour of Woodsboro. Haddonfield next time?

BookBin2013: A Curious Man: The Strange and Brilliant Life of Robert “Believe It Or Not!” Ripley

~ lobablanca

curiousman

Two of my all-time favorite things when I was a kid were as follows: watching episodes of Ripley’s Believe It Or Not! on Sunday evenings before bed, and getting to visit the Ripley’s museum whenever we made it to Myrtle Beach. I have always had a love affair with the bizarre or mysterious or just plain gross or scary, so these two treats fed right into my fascinations…it wasn’t until I was much older that I started to understand the exploitative implications of a lot of the people the Ripley museum “showcased.”

It also wasn’t until I was much older that I realized that the “Ripley” of Ripley’s fame was an actual person. What? I never claimed to be 100-percent on the ball all the time, denizens. Needless to say, it’s no surprise that I hardly knew anything about LeRoy Robert Ripley beyond the obvious fact that he had a penchant for peculiarities. From this approach, then, I found the details of Neal Thompson’s Ripley biography A Curious Man both fascinating and at times, yes, unbelievable.

Mostly, I think I find it unbelievable how much money cartoonists once made, how like rock stars they were treated by their employers and readers alike. I suppose it should make more sense to me than the celebrity status we so willingly award to the most undeserving of crassness today (“reality” television is a poisonous thing, indeed). Those early comic strip pioneers, including Ripley, at least contributed something to the pantheon of creativity…something more substantial than the stain of fake tan smeared across our collective conscience.

Besides, this was a time before cable television and multiplex theaters. It was a time before world travel was an acceptable option and we dared envision connecting with anyone beyond the boundaries of our ZIP code or even the parameters of our humble little neighborhoods. To experience the wonders and terrors that the world had to offer required a contact, a willing conduit to allow the flow of information from the farthest regions down into Main Street, USA. Someone like Ripley, who gladly would uproot and take to the skies, the seas, the snows, the sun-drenched jungles…wherever he had not yet journeyed, had not yet taken his readers.

Thompson’s biography provides all this information and more on Ripley, from his early days through his rise to fame, his comics, his museums, his radio shows…perhaps even beyond that. Sadly, I ran out of time and had to return this to the library before I could finish it. However, what I did read of this book was quite fascinating, not just in regard to the man but also to where he grew up, where he lived, and where he traveled. Thompson does quite a lovely job of making his biography well-researched, well-rounded, and well-received by readers, including me.

Final Verdict: I would like to check this one back out of the library at some point, so that I can finish the few chapters I had left, and perhaps I’ll add it to my wish list for future buying. Believe it…or not!

H Is For Horror…

~ lobablanca

Ah, denizens, you know I love you all even when I’m not around. And you also know that I love Halloween most of all the holidays…so I simply had to come back one more time for October.

So I’ve been binge-listening to a “new” podcast recently (they’ve been at it for a while now, actually, but the show is new to me, as I have failed to keep up with several podcasts lately, including this one). The podcast in question is The Little Pod of Horrors, featuring two of the loveliest, funniest horror fans I know. Of course, listening to their shows has once again reinvigorated my love of the horror genre. This whole month, in fact, I’ve been watching pretty much only horror movies for my daily workouts. I’ve caught up on quite a few movies that slipped off my radar, fallen in love with a few, and even added one to my personal collection!

Now, some of you might recall that I have posted a few entries here at the lair dealing with my love of horror. A few Halloweens ago, I even posted a list of what I consider to be Loba

BookBin2013: Batwoman Volume 2: To Drown the World and Volume 3: World’s Finest

~ lobablanca

batwoman2-3

I told you I’d be speaking of the Lady Kane very soon. I bought all three of these graphic novels at the same time, and while I enjoyed Batgirl’s collection immensely, it was really all about Batwoman for me. These two graphic novels, To Drown the World and World’s Finest, barely made it into the house before I was flipping through them, devouring the visuals, squeeing at the snippets that my brain was able to process on a first-blush review, and then champing at the bit in anticipation of the story that awaited me.

Admittedly, I might have enjoyed the second Batgirl collection a bit more if I wasn’t so looking forward to these two novels. Sorry, Batgirl.

Truthfully, though, I was a little bit…not necessarily disappointed by the second Batwoman collection…but definitely not as enamored of it as I was of her first go in the New 52 universe. One of the primary reasons is a pretty obvious one. J.H. Williams III didn’t do most of the artwork for this collection. He and W.H. Blackman were busy writing the story, so a lot of the interior art was done by Amy Reeder, Trevor McCarthy, and Pere Perez, with Guy Major doing the coloring. Not that this made the artwork terrible…but Williams is such a masterful artist that not seeing his work makes you painfully aware of how unlike Williams most other artists are.

Plus, there are a lot more “male gaze/crotch/butt/boob” illustrations of Batwoman in this novel than previously, which I found very distracting. These particular poses die down after a while, but the fact that they’re in there at all really annoys me. Batwoman isn’t here to titillate you with pendulous breasts and a latex-clad badonka-donk. She’s here either to save or kick your ass, depending on which side of the law you choose. Also, if you’re turning to comic books for that kind of titillation? Here’s a little bit of advice: Women, even the comic book variety, are on this planet for more than your ogling. Also? Batwoman is not interested in you.

Williams and colorist Dave Stewart return to the drawing table for the comics that make up the third volume, giving even more credence to the collection’s title, World’s Finest. Not to mention the fact that the third volume’s writing is that much stronger…and there’s the fact that another DC Comics heroine makes a guest appearance throughout this collection, making it that much more amazing.

But first, the second volume. Just as I stated in my review of Batgirl’s Knightfall Descends, I feel like this second collection is a bridge collection, with story arcs designed to get us from the amazing work in Hydrology to World’s Finest. It’s still a solid offering (probably more so that Knightfall Descends) and carries the plot forward in strong ways.

The payoff, however, is the third volume, which is brilliant from start to finish. Plus? Wonder Woman. Yeah, that’s right. Wonder Woman plays a major part in this collection as she agrees to team with Batwoman to help defeat the latest menace to threaten the residents of Gotham City.

[Loba Tangent: Why are there even still people who live in Gotham City? I’m sorry, but not even knowing that Batwoman had my back would make me want to…okay, never mind. I would totally stay in Gotham if Batwoman was there to protect me. Carry on.]

Seriously, denizens, the third volume of the Batwoman story is ace all the way. Williams and Blackman are so on-point throughout, and Williams’s artwork shines as always. He makes the graphic novel experience such an immense joy, even when depicting some of the darkest, most gruesome moments. And believe me when I say that Batwoman’s world is incredibly dark and incredibly gruesome.

To be honest, this third volume made me believe that Batwoman could totally convey to a movie experience. This is definitely in part to Williams being such a masterful artist…his vision of Batwoman’s world is absolutely cinematic. Plus, the fantastical villains and epic battles would look amazing on a big screen. It definitely helps that the writing is so great as well. I know I said before that I didn’t think Williams was as strong a writer as he is an artist, but I do believe that the combo team of Williams and Blackman nail this story in such amazing ways. They both have hit such a stride, not only with the large-scale story arcs but also with the smaller, more intimate character developments. They also do a fantastic job on inner monologues, something that Gail Simone does with equal (and at times greater) mastery with her Batgirl writing. Plus, using this particular storyline would also bring Wonder Woman to the big screen, which is something that I fear might never actually happen unless she rides in on someone else’s coattails…or cape. All the better if she came in, lariat blazing, with another bad-ass comic heroine!

Of course, my high praise and adoration for the third Batwoman graphic novel makes the recent shakedown at DC Comics all the more disappointing and upsetting. Williams and Blackman have walked away from Batwoman because of DC Comics brass interfering in story lines that they had already greenlit. Story lines that should be allowed to be completed. I was willing to be a little less decisive about this until I read these latest offerings, but now that I have? I so very much would love to see the continuation of this story that Williams and Blackman wanted to tell. There’s a fourth collection that will contain what I think are the last of Williams and Blackman’s contributions to Batwoman…so at least there’s that. Still, I can’t even begin to express my disappointment that they have left…and have taken an amazing story with them.

Final Verdict: Not only am I keeping these (der), I’m also going to finally pick up Wonder Woman’s New 52 novels. Her story is currently being told by Brian Azzarello. I’m not that fond of his writing style, as I previously indicated in my review of his Joker graphic novel. Also, Cliff Chiang is in charge of the artwork. I’m not really all that crazy about his style either. Unless, of course, he’s drawing Wonder Woman as Joan Jett. Otherwise, meh.

Obviously, not really liking the writer or the artist are two major reasons to stay away from Wonder Woman. However, I kind of feel a bit schmucky that I’m not supporting Wonder Woman. I’ll at least give the first novel a go. We’ll see where it goes from there…

BookBin2013: Shockaholic

~ lobablanca

It’s a shame, really, that Carrie Fisher decided to follow up her wildly successful memoir Wishful Drinking (which I have read, adored, and reviewed) with this book. It was like following up a Rembrandt retrospective with finger-paintings from the local kindergarten. Sure, the parents are proud, but everyone else is immensely disappointed at the mediocrity.

(I wonder, though, if Debbie Reynolds could even be proud of this book…)

I mentioned in my review of Wishful Drinking that Fisher had undergone electroshock therapy (ECT), which helped with her severe bipolar disorder, but also left her with rather gaping holes in her memory. Shockaholic was her attempt to document some of the moments in her life that have already been whittled away by the ECT in spits and spurts, before the memories are completely eradicated.

To be honest, a lot of the memories she decided to write about aren’t really ones worth salvaging…or at least not worth putting down in a book you intend to sell people. It’s a lot of “Hey, here’s another half-remembered moment that shows how awesome I think I am” or “Here’s a snippet of memory about some of the cool people I’ve interacted with” or “Hey, I remember spending time with Michael Jackson, so I’m going to exploit that memory while it’s still here.”

Not only was this a painful exercise in self-aggrandizement, but it also completely lacked the glorious humor and wit that I have so often loved about Fisher’s writings and performances. If these are further victims of her ongoing ECT sessions, it’s a sad, sad day, indeed.

Final Verdict: The only reasons I finished this book were: A) The font was massive, so it was a really quick read; and B) I kept hoping, hoping, hoping that it would get better (instead, it got worse…SPOILERS!). Back to the library. No chance of adding this to my personal collection.

Flashback Friday: Adolescent Ephemera

~ lobablanca

I swear this isn’t a cop-out, denizens.

Okay, it sort of is a co-pout. I’m still working on that solution for how to either cram more hours into one day or more work into the time that I have. I’m not quite there yet. I’ve got a few other posts that I’m working on (including one that I’ve been working on since…around Mayish of this year o_O). But in the interim, I thought you might enjoy this random photo that I discovered earlier this week while going through some digital photo archives:

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This is just a sampling of the weirdness from my adolescence that I deemed important enough for my parents to have to transport to another state and into another attic in another house from the one in which I lived. Totally understandable, though, right? I mean who wouldn’t want a bajillion different stuffed Scooby Doos (and a mini pillow!!) and mini posters of Data and Dr. Crusher.

[Loba Tangent: As much as I love both of these characters, these poses have always bothered me, especially for Dr. Crusher. Why is the doctor seen getting ready to shoot someone? Couldn’t they have taken a picture of her with a medical tricorder? A hypospray? Either one of those would have been more appropriate than this Hippocratic anathema…]

Also, check the basketball on the bottom shelf. I bought that at a Hardee’s somewhere along the I-95 corridor, during the first part of our senior class trip. Ah, our class trips. Now those are stories I should tell sometime. When the therapy is finished. And the PTSD and nightmares have finally stopped.

See you soon, denizens. I hope…

Flashback Friday: Mr. Gameshow

~ lobablanca

mrgameshow

Welcome to a slice of my adolescent nightmare, denizens. This is Mr. Gameshow. Granted, it’s a really twisted PhotoShop take on Mr. Gameshow. Here, have a look at an untouched photo of him:

gusglitz

Not much better, right? I didn’t really think so either. I don’t have any stories about Mr. Gameshow (aka “Gus Glitz”). I’m sure most people don’t even remember him. Galoob probably lost a huge amount of money on this dud of an electronic doozy. He might have been sold for a year at most before being pulled from the market. I’ve never met anyone who even remembered this toy, let alone knew someone who owned one. I never played any of the games and I’m not even sure why I wanted him in the first place. Probably a symptom of all the horror movies that I watched as a kid. Who knows.

Amazingly, my Mr. Gameshow still works, even after sitting in hot attics for years. I recently found all his components and set him up (the damn thing takes four AA batteries and four C batteries!), just to see if there was any damage. Took a little while to get him fired up and working properly (all the little belts inside him had stuck in place, so it took a bit of gentle jiggling to get him back into fighting shape), but after a while, he was swinging his arms and clacking his massive jaw, just like old times. I didn’t take any video of my toy, but you can get the general idea from this clip:

//www.youtube-nocookie.com/embed/1pTlm2e9lcI

I know. You’re all shocked that Mr. Gameshow wasn’t more popular. I’m sure Energizer and Duracell were rooting for him (eight batteries!!). I’m not really sure what I’m going to do with good ole Gus Glitz. Of course, if I ever decide to put on that Halloween extravaganza, I’m thinking he would make a great centerpiece, don’t you?