The Ablutions of Civility

~ lobablanca

Do you know what separates humans from the rest of the animal kingdom?

A hot shower and a hairdryer.

I exaggerate, of course. But not really. I know that we like to think of ourselves as highly evolved (or children of God, if that’s how you like to swing), but it’s such a thin sheen, this civility we pride ourselves for possessing over the rest of the mammals.

Remove one of those tenuous threads that connect us to that higher plateau and watch how quickly it all unravels.

We lost our electricity on Friday night, thanks to a jaw-droppingly violent storm known as a “Derecho.” It swept through the area with winds strong enough to snap healthy trees into shards of kindling and rip power lines completely free from their poles. And the rain! The idiom “sheets of rain” would not be hyperbolic in this case. Rain poured down as if dumped from a giant basin, with no delineation of size or shape…just a solid wall of water through which we found ourselves driving. VERY SLOWLY.

It was stunning and frightening and utterly humbling.

And then we reached our neighborhood and the unsurprising though frustrating reality of complete darkness.

This was our reality for almost four days.

Several years ago, New York was hit by a blackout so severe that former Energy Secretary Bill Richardson described us as ” a superpower with a third world electricity grid.” This statement is perfectly applicable to the state of the electricity grid as operated by the Potomac Electric Power Company, known as PEPCO. Although, it’s not really “operated” by PEPCO anymore, which is probably a major part of the problem. PEPCO sold their energy generating assets in 2000. They said that it would benefit customers by giving us lower rates. It was also supposed to open up free-market competition.

Yeah, not so much.

What actually happened has been a decade-plus devolution in service and reliability from PEPCO to the point that if you sneeze too hard near a substation, thousands go without power for days. Granted, Friday night’s storm was fierce. However, PEPCO’s response was the same as every one of their responses to massive days-long power failures (which seem to occur at least biannually anymore): no human customer service; spotty updates to their automated response system that always lack any concrete commitment to timelines; slow decisions to reach out to nearby power companies for help in restoration efforts; and, when finally they do commit to a deadline, it’s offensively distant.

Case in point: We lost power on Friday, June 29. Sunday, July 1, PEPCO finally committed to the “promise” that 90 percent of the people without power would have full restoration by 11 p.m. on Friday, July 6.

This is customer service? Did I mention that temperatures have been in the mid-90s to low 100s since the power went out? And there’s no sign of relief all week?

This is how civility’s sheen sloughs away: Under the oppressive pressing persistence of heat and humidity that leave patience in shreds and tempers inflamed. Major intersections become free-for-alls as people abandon lawfulness and common courtesy. You think this area’s traffic sucks and blows as it is on a normal day? Try making it down a major roadway when every stoplight is dead and there are no police officers available to direct traffic. Mad Max would be left in tears by sweaty, enraged D.C. area commuters unfettered by the superfluity of traffic rules and simple human decency.

Then there were the lines at the gas stations that still had power. I wasn’t alive during the 1973 oil crisis, but I’ve seen photos of lines of cars snaking down roads, around blocks, waiting to get to a pump. Believe it or not, this was the scene this past weekend at the few stations that still had power. You’d have thought that we’d gone weeks without access to gas, the way people were behaving. Horns blaring, tempers flaring…I honestly question and fear what would happen in an actual gas shortage. Good thing I like to walk as much as I do.

By Sunday evening, our third-world power grid problems sparked a first-world worry regarding…our wine fridge. We’d just gotten back from a very prosperous adventure (about which I had planned on telling you all prior to PEPCO SUCKS 2012!!!11!!) that left our wine fridge fully stocked with some amazing new discoveries.

Discoveries that were now beginning to warm up.

Have you ever heard the phrase “like looking for a needle in a haystack”? That, denizens, might have been easier than looking for a bag of ice in a blackout. I drove around for almost an hour in search of ice. The closest I came were random shards and cubes abandoned at the bottoms of empty ice bins and one incredibly questionable offer from a gas station attendant who looked almost exactly like Borat’s producer Azamat Bagatov, for me to “come back in few hours and I will have for you two bags of ice.”

Uh. No.

Thankfully, I found a 7-Eleven with a full ice case, the wine was promptly cooled down, and I even got to enjoy a glass of non-tepid tap water that evening.

Monday morning brought with it another round of frustration: My office building had no power. No electricity at work, no electricity at home, I suddenly found myself in full nomadic form, netbook in tow, standing outside the local Barnes and Noble bookstore with two goals in mind: free wi-fi and a giant cup of coffee. Possibly two. At the same time.

Caffeine withdrawal is an ugly thing to witness, denizens.

Thankfully, the B&N staff understood the desperation that rolled off us all in waves (as well as a bit of funk, I’m sure; cold showers are great for cooling off but you cannot convince me that they are suitable for successful hygiene). The Starbucks cafe was ready with hot coffee and the promise of quiet tables and no pressure when we camped out well past the point when our cups were drained and nothing remained of our muffins beyond crumbs and blueberry-stained napkins. Actually, B&N was a lovely oasis of civility in an otherwise calamitous experience. The staff were kind, the store was quiet and cool, the wi-fi never faltered, and I ended up leaving with the complete works of H.P. Lovecraft for $20.

Win.

Now, I sit here in the cool comfort of our house, listening to the appeasing sounds of our mist-thin civility once more humming around me. I suppose I should be thankful to PEPCO for restoring our electricity well before their estimate. However, I can’t help but chafe at the thought that they set the bar so impossibly low that I can’t really find it in myself to thank them for anything. Yes, I appreciate the workers who are out there, busting their asses in this heat to fix what went wrong; but I can’t forgive the arrogance of the upper management who not only act as though they are above answering to their customers for remarkably poor service but actually have the audacity to want to discuss the possibility of imminent price increases.

Right. Perhaps I should approach such an increase with the same reliability and responsiveness that they approach these regular power failures…

BookBin2012: The Joker

~ LobaBlanca

I’ve accumulated a bit of a BookBin backlog and I’m starting to already forget my thoughts on the books that I’ve finished. That won’t be much of a problem with this entry.

I’m not really sure why I picked up Brian Azzarello’s The Joker. I could tell from the artwork that it was based on the Joker as portrayed by Heath Ledger in the Christopher Nolan Batman universe. I make no secret of the fact that I really dislike Nolan’s take on the Dark Knight. I have no interest in seeing this summer’s final offering. I’ll probably rent it later on. Then again, probably not. I guess it all depends on that day’s level of rental-related sadomasochism.

However, I know that Azzarello’s work with 100 Bullets is considered by many to be a graphic novel masterpiece (I’ve yet to experience it, but am willing to take other opinions into consideration).

The problem, however, is that no amount of creativity on Azzarello’s part is going to eliminate the fact that the foundation of this Joker was laid by Nolan. Did I mention that I really don’t like his translation of the Joker?

Well, I don’t.

Therefore, I didn’t really like this graphic novel.

One of the things that I’ve always liked about other interpretations of the Joker is that he is a dark, damaged, duplicitous criminal mastermind, worthy of being considered one of Batman’s number one opponents. Even in Alan Moore’s The Killing Joke, this darker version of the Joker carried within him a sharpness of wit and humor that were completely lacking in Azzarello’s Joker. Instead, in this story he’s nothing more than a bottom-dollar gangster, taking out petty vengeance on those who “wronged” him while he was away at Arkham Asylum.

Also? I know I come back to this all the time, but the depiction of women in this novel was atrocious. Harley Quinn as a mute stripper? (I’m just assuming she’s supposed to be a mute in this storyline, since I don’t believe I read any lines from her at all…she was just in the background, looking naked and lascivious). And a completely unnecessary act of sexual violence to show what an unhinged badass the Joker really is?

Please stop. Stop now.

I will say this: As with The Killing Joke, what ultimately saved this novel wasn’t the writing but the artwork. The combination of Lee Bermejo’s art with Mick Gray’s ink, Patricia Mulvihill’s colors, and Robert Clark’s letters combine for a delicious panorama of the more sinister sides of Gotham City and its seedier inhabitants. Some of the panels are frame-worthy, they’re so viciously beautiful.

Final Verdict: As much as I love the artwork, this is another case of finding the story itself so repulsive and unimpressive that I’m going to have to pass. Already back at the library, where I should have left it in the first place.

Everyone Needs an Editor: No Expeirence Nessecary

~ lobablanca

I found this little gem while cleaning out one of my desk drawers yesterday afternoon:

Beyond the editorial WTFery, what kind of “Jobs Jobs Jobs” is this flyer advertising? Because, honestly? I’m getting a serious NO feeling from the whole thing. I’m thinking human trafficking of some kind. Either that or you’re about to sign on to become a drug mule. Hope you like swallowing cocaine-filled condoms and following them up later with a laxative chaser…

Mind All Traffic Signals…

~ lobablanca

…even the ones you can’t see.

I want you to just look at this photo for a moment or two, denizens. Ponder it:

Do you notice anything off about the positioning of the crosswalk signs? Want a closer look?

Yeah. Pretty awesome, right? The one sign is positioned RIGHT IN FRONT OF THE OTHER ONE. Result? Total visual blockage.

The signs have been like this for probably three months now. The county had sent a crew out to regrade the sidewalk crossings, and they installed a couple of new crosswalk signs while they were at it. What I want to know is, how did they not realize while they were installing this sign that they were screwing up?

It took me all of five seconds to deduce the DERP of the sign placement. The work crew was there, futzing around with the sidewalk and the signs for more than a week. Did none of them at any point not look up and say, “Hey! Hey, guyz?!!?!11! I think we need to re-evaluate this game plan.”

Or did they all notice it and just not give a damn? Who’s to say. All I know is that I’m very glad that my parents taught me to always look both ways before crossing the street…

An Officer and the Extra-Terrestrial

~ lobablanca

Thirty years ago today, Steven Spielberg unleashed his schmaltz upon us in extra-terrestrial form, complete with marketable candy-coated goodness.

I hate to break this to you, denizens, but I’ve never liked this movie. It’s riddled with forced sentimentality as only Spielberg can inflict upon audiences. But I couldn’t resist this idea when it popped into my head. My only hope is that someone out there gets my weird sense of humor (it actually does make sense if you know a little movie trivia!), and that they laugh even a fraction as much as I’m still laughing.

Flashback Friday: “Ich bin Dein Gummib

~ lobablanca

You know, I had a completely different Flashback Friday planned for today…and then it happened. While sitting in a client meeting today, a tune popped into my head. One of those infective infernal tunes that you can’t stop, can’t turn down, can’t change. It just plays in the background on continuous loop, worse than what you imagine the muzak in Hell’s elevator must be like.

Ask Angel. He would know.

Hmm.

I don’t even know what prompted the sudden uprising of this tune. I hadn’t thought of it for many months. Hell, I haven’t even had any gummy bears recently to remind me of its existence! But there it was, playing in the back of my brain while I sat, trying to pitch ideas to a roomful of clients in as professional manner as possible…while listening to a green gummy bear in yellow skivvies and shaking his gummy tuchus sing this song. Loudly. In my head.

And, yes, he was singing the German version:

https://www.youtube-nocookie.com/embed/o3v4lGkHacE

Yes, denizens, it was an exciting Friday, indeed, for Loba. I suspect gummy nightmares are in my imminent future…

BookBin2012: Sin City Series

~ LobaBlanca

A wolf of my word am I. Although, actually, in my review of the final Sin City graphic novel, Hell and Back, I indicated that I wasn’t in that much of a hurry to experience Sin City in all its brutal black-and-white glory.

I guess that means that I’m capricious. I can live with that. It was just too much to resist when I reached the graphic novel section of the library and saw that all of Frank Miller’s Sin City novels were right there, lined up in order and ready for me to grab them from the shelf. For the record, this includes the following novels:

I’m not going to go into descriptions of each novel’s plot. I think that the Sin City Wikipedia page covers that more thoroughly that I could in this post. The gist is pretty much that each novel presents a vignette of vengeance and oftentimes jarringly unhinged brutality to be found within the confines of Basin City, known colloquially as “Sin City.” Many characters wind their way through several of the stories, sometimes trading up to primary characters and sometimes shifting down to secondary or tertiary ones.

I have to admit, Miller’s spin on neo-noir storytelling has moments of surprising brilliance and beauty. I was honestly expecting neither, considering how underwhelmed I was by Hell and Back. However, I now get the impression that the final two entries in this series might have been the point where Miller was winding down and running out of creative steam. I would definitely peg Booze, Broads, and Bullets and Hell and Back as the two weakest links in this chain of stories.

The rest of the novels, however, carry within their pages all the darkness and drama that one would pray for from a place called “Sin City.” Miller utilizes the strength of his monochromatic palette to stunning effect, the lines and angles fluctuating from fluid to fractured to intensely, inescapably haunting. Miller wields a controlled use of color to enhance even further the visual impact of his bleak world.

As for the stories themselves, I feel secure in saying that they are not for everyone. Miller’s city is inhabited by a level of depravity, violence, and horror that I know would turn away a majority of readers, right from the very first novel. There are assassins, cannibals, rapists, prostitutes, strippers, dirty cops, dirty politicians, dirty clergy, psychopaths of all varieties, mobsters…pick your poison and you’ll probably find its flavor somewhere in these pages.

Then again, anyone entering the city limits of Miller’s world must surely know that this is what they’ve signed up for, so I’m not telling you anything you don’t already know.

I will say this: I’m completely conflicted about my feelings toward the women of Miller’s world and how he depicts them, both visually and narratively. Right away, I think it’s safe to state that more often than not, whenever a woman is depicted in a comic book, it’s in a rather objectified way. Sadly, I’m resigned to the fact that this is the nature of the beast. Comics audiences are predominantly young heterosexual males who find scantily clad and impossibly endowed women (even of the cartoon variety) to be the type of titillation to bring them running.

Bottom line, ladies: We’re a minority if we’re into the comics scene. There are exceptions to the rule, but not often. And not in this case.

Miller’s pages are filled with innumerable images of naked women…naked women who are unrepentantly cruel or uncomfortably victimized, with the middle ground oftentimes inhabited by frustratingly clueless and/or naive “broads.”

That being said, one of the most powerful characters from the entire series is “Deadly Little Miho,” a mute assassin from “Old Town” (where the prostitutes rule by whatever means necessary) who appears in four of the Sin City stories. While one could argue that she is at times drawn in as equally objectified ways as most of the other women in Miller’s novels, she’s also powerful, frighteningly adept with her weaponry, and highly effective…all without ever uttering a word. She was undoubtedly one of my favorite parts of this series.

She was also one of my favorite parts of the movie. I decided, after reading the novels, that I should give Robert Rodriguez’s cinematic take on three of the novels another shot. I’m glad that I did. While definitely not a perfect film and still not one that I would list as a favorite, I must credit Rodriguez with giving Miller’s artwork a glorious visual send-up. Rodriguez claims that this isn’t an adaptation of Miller’s work but rather a “translation.”

Watching this movie with a better understanding of the world being depicted, I think that this is one of the better “translations” of comic-inspired storytelling to come from Hollywood. Rodriguez is honest to and respectful of his source material, using his filmmaking expertise to enhance rather than negate any of the elements he adapts for his story. One could argue that he’s a bit too true to some of the novels’ visual styles; however, I think that he does an impressive job of balancing his obvious reverence for the original novels with his own personal aesthetic.

For those who are interested, the movie adapts the stories from the Sin City novels The Hard Goodbye, That Yellow Bastard, and The Big Fat Kill. Also, apparently the sequel has finally been greenlit for arrival in theaters by October 2013. This one will be based on A Dame to Kill For (which I admittedly didn’t like as much as others). It will be interesting to see a return to this world, nearly a decade after the first movie.

Final Verdict: I’m actually glad that I gave the rest of these novels a chance. While I’m by no means enamored enough of these tales that I would want to own copies for myself, I do concede that they were an interesting journey, both in print form and in a return to the movie.

Flashback Friday: Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs

~ lobablanca

Seems that there’s a bit of a revival in interest when it comes to our beloved Snow White. With the release of the Julia Roberts-helmed Mirror Mirror back in March of this year, and this weekend’s opening of Snow White and the Huntsman, starring Kristen Stewart, Charlize Theron, and Chris Hemsworth, seems what we want to see now is our young fairytale heroine as less helpless princess and more warrior queen. Not that there’s necessarily anything wrong with this take. Contrary to popular opinion, I do enjoy a bit of revision, if it’s done properly. And not done by J.J. Abrams.

I’ve not seen either of these modern takes on the Snow White story so I can’t say whether they’re successful or not in their reinvention. However, all the talk about this latest movie has left me feeling reminiscent about the very first cinematic Snow White (at least that I can recall). Hers was the name that launched the animated movie empire of Walt Disney himself.

It was 1937 when Disney released his very first feature-length animated movie, Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs. And it was gorgeous. Even today, 75 years later, it stands as a testament to the visionary aesthetic that Disney possessed in such ample supply. His animators created a world of timeless beauty, inhabited by characters that, even if oddly diminutive or four-footed, were believable and sympathetic.

Or scary as hell. Yeah, Evil Queen, I’m looking at you.

This movie also holds a special place in my memory as being the very first movie I ever saw in a movie theater. See, once upon a time, Disney used to re-release their classic animated movies for limited theater viewings. This usually corresponded with the impending limited-time release of said classic movie onto VHS tape. Remember the limited-time release? It was such a bizarre concept, but obviously also a concept orchestrated to make maximum money for the Disney Empire. After all, who wouldn’t pay top dollar to get their very own copy of their favorite Disney movie before it was returned once more to the “Disney Vault”?

I was seven years old when Disney chose Snow White as its latest limited release. It was a Thanksgiving release that year; I know this because we went to a theater in Myrtle Beach while visiting my grandparents for Turkey Day festivities. I remember sitting between my parents in the theater, waiting impatiently for the movie to begin. When the lights dimmed and that screen lit up with that larger-than-life technicolor world, I remember being stunned into silence. It was completely new, completely overwhelming, and completely Gremlin-free.

Oh, please, someone get my geeky Gizmo humor.

Seems like lifetimes ago, that unjaded little wolf, wide-eyed in the darkness of a movie theater for the very first time. I honestly don’t think I’ve seen Snow White since that trip…at least not all the way through. We never got the movie on VHS when I was little; by the time my mom bought a copy, I was thoroughly enmeshed in the surly insouciance of teendom. Surly teens don’t watch Snow White.

Surly adults do. Mayhaps I’ll give it a go next time I visit my dad. Until then, here’s an awesome Snow White-inspired video remix done by Pogo. It’s called “Wishery,” and it’s simply amazing:

[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qs1bG6BIYlo&w=640&h=360]

Flashback Friday: Sid and Marty Krofft

~ lobablanca

There’s nothing worse than getting a Krofft Entertainment theme song stuck in your head. Don’t believe me?

[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nmNqaxpk-jw&w=640&h=480]

Yeah. I can’t say that I’ve seen all the shows that popped up in this video, but I’ve seen enough of them to know that Sid and Marty Krofft were two seriously trippy cats. Sadly, though, three of the Krofft shows with which I’m most familiar aren’t even in this clip. First, there was Sigmund & the Sea Monsters:

[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xXZ3pOBX6Jo&w=640&h=480]

And, yes, that would be Margaret “Wicked Witch of the West” Hamilton listed in the credits, thank you very much. Then there were The Bugaloos:

[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ha_g7PeHe90&w=640&h=480]

I don’t know why, but it was practically impossible to find this theme song on YouTube. Of all the things over which to be proprietary…but check Martha Raye! Although I know that she had quite an impressive career outside of this, I am a child of the 70s and 80s. Therefore, Martha Raye means two things to me: Benita Bizarre…

[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=veepUdDk9F0&w=640&h=480]

…and Polident’s “Freshmouth”:

[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DGPnXEGkFL8&w=640&h=480]

Ah! Lily Munster, too!

Finally, from the Krofft family of theme songs that I sometimes cannot shake from my brain? H.R. Pufnstuf:

[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j5e9yCB-hiw&w=640&h=480]

Oh, but wait! As a bonus, try shaking this theme from your brain. It’s from The Banana Splits, which was a Hanna-Barbera show, with costume and sets designed by Krofft Entertainment:

[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UjS1nrsJhTQ&w=640&h=480]

Good grief. No wonder my generation is so screwy.