Posted under dave's blog

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Everybody’s sort of panicking, but:

Marvel’s fanbase has been dwindling for decades.  They cater to clinically depressed men ages 18-40.

If they want their intellectual property to outlive the current generation of fans, they have to reach out to younger audiences. Disney is the KING of reaching the youngbloods.

Nothing bad can come from this.

They’re all just corporate icons, anyway.

Mature comics aren’t going to go away just because of this merger, they’re just not going to have a giant “M” on the cover.

They’re gosh dang SUPERHEROES. How can people get so art school indignant about SUPERHERO COMICS?

Posted under eric's blog

Ted Seko is an amazing artist and an even better dude.

This was one of the best conversations I have had in a while.

http://www.talkshoe.com/talkshoe/web/talkCast.jsp?masterId=34147&cmd=tc
http://paperengine.blogspot.com

Posted under Podcast, eric's blog

Three things prevented me from enjoying Inglourious Basterds, last evening:

1.) I live in a college town (which means fraternities, which in turn means dozens of infantile young men who are made so uncomfortable by their feelings that whenever a scene evocative of genuine human emotion plays it is met with a resounding wave of giggles and cries of “faggot!”.

2.) My escort was a beautiful German girl whose family was actually greatly wounded by the second world war.

3.) The movie, overall, is a massive piece of shit.

Wait, wait, wait.  Hear me out:

I know: “It’s Quentin Tarantino!  Everything he makes is amazing!  He has been promoting this film since before ‘Kill Bill: Volume One’.  It has to be good!”.  I’m right there with you.  The man has done NO WRONG before this film.  Absolutely none. He’s a madman, a genius, a visionary.

Sure, his stuff is derivative, but it’s derivative in the same tradition as “The Dark Knight Returns”, or “Watchmen” (in that it takes all of the familiar tropes of the genre and either justifies them in new and interesting ways, or presents them in a fresh setting: Jackie Brown is a a heist film about the desperation of the aging, as opposed to the more cliche theme of “the arrogance of youth”, Pulp Fiction is an urban gangster film set in upper-middle-class-suburbia, etcetera).

Inglourious Basterds isn’t only bad in comparison to the rest of Tarantino’s films, It’s just bad.  It’s unoriginal, predictable, and completely devoid of subtext. What you see is what you get; and what you get is a series of cartoonish, unsympathetic action sequences that rely completely on the audience’s knowledge of World War Two to have any sort of emotional impact.

Motivation is replaced with nationality (anyone German is evil, anyone American, English, or French is virtuous), and the only backstory we’re given in the entire flick is presented in a comically discordant flashback scene.

I wouldn’t have as much of a problem with Tarantino making a witless action blockbuster if the backdrop wasn’t The Holocaust.  If anyone can think of an event in human history that was more complex, horrific, and deserving of respect, then I’ll eat my “special edition director’s cut” copy of Jackie Brown.

Quentin Tarantino is a much better storyteller than this, and it’s distressing to see that he has an easier time telling a mature story within the context of a fictional world of ninja assassins than within one of the most meaningful eras in human civilization.

Posted under eric's blog

Posted under dave's blog

“I don’t mince words, young man–so I’m just going to come right out here and say this: what’s the deal with them ears?”.

“They seem to work just fine”.

“Nah.  The holes”.

A long pause.

“I don’t know, man”.

The words are drawn out.  The delivery is groggy.

“Aww, C’mon. You do all that, you go through all that trouble… And you ‘don’t know, man’?”.

“Yep.  That’s about it.  They are what they are”.

The driver adjusts his mirror, fidgets in his seat.  He grips the steering wheel so tight the leather squeaks.

“Is that just your stock answer, then? ‘They are what they are’?”.

“Seems like”.

“Man, I guess it’s a generational thing, huh?  When I was young (about twenty, I guess.  Yeah.  That sounds about right.  A few years before I started driving a Taxi) I got my ear pierced.  It was sort of….what’s the word? ‘Controversial’ for the time, I suppose”.

Longer pause.

“The left one.  The left ear lobe.  I’m not…”.

“Heaven forbid”.

“You know about Jesus?”.

Another pause.  Now we’re both fidgeting.

“Not as much as you, I’m sure”.

“Man, I’ve lived a lot of… (what’s the word?)  ‘Lifestyles’. (Yeah, that’s it).  I’ve lived a lot of lifestyles.  I’ve fifty years under my belt, son”.

He takes his right hand off the steering wheel, uses it to slide his gut to one side.

He turns back to look me dead-in-the-eye.

“Being a Christian is the most rewarding, peaceful, challenging, relaxing thing I’ve ever tried.  It’s got it all”.

Pause.

Throats are cleared.

He turns back around, just in time put on the brakes before plowing through a flock of pigeons who’ve stopped to peck at a mangy hunk of housebroken carrion.

“Jesus, Christ!”.

“As you were saying…”.

(An attempt at humor).

“What’s that?”

(a failed attempt).

A pregnant pause as he waits for an explanation, and I’m at a loss at to what I should say.

“I’m not being…(what’s the word?) ‘intrusivary’, am I?  Just tell me to shut up if I’m being too…’instrusivary’ (yeah.  That’s the word)”.

But at this point we’ve already reached our destination.

Posted under eric's blog

Sitting at Safehouse, listening at first to Miles Davis’ “Bye Bye, Blackbird”, then to the wailing “KEE-RASHH!” of a vehicular collision.

Six bikers at the front of the bar take off running, pants chains from their Slipknot wallets rattling as they go.

I silently curse myself for my cynicism: judging their actions as those of immature attention-seekers, trying to involve themselves in whatever drama they can.

Until their ringleader, after assessing the situation, comes barreling into the joint, extending his fist for me to “bump”.

“Dude, Bro!  You just missed the sickest accident!  Fucking:  ’sccreeach, WHAMMO!’.  Say Goodnight, bitch!”.

Awesome.

Posted under eric's blog

I just got home from attending a “wet booty contest” at a local shit hole bar, with Dave Baker & our token Arabic friend, Jassem.

The whole event pretty much consisted of us standing around, complaining to each other about how much we hated ourselves for being so nervous in public & apprehensive around new people.

Nothing makes a man feel worse than being brushed off by women who, ostensibly have no shame (they’re “wet booty contest” participants, for crying out God damn loud).

The most memorable moment of the night occurred after the wet, naked, barely-of-age girls finished violently making out in a hastily constructed kiddie pool on the dance floor, though.

As is always the case: some schmuck had too much to drink, made a complete ass of himself, & was asked to leave.

Completely trashed, he got in his car & began to fumble with the keys.

Much to my surprise:  Dave took off sprinting towards the nearest bouncer as soon as he heard the drunkard’s engine turn.

“You’re just going to let him drive off like that?  Why don’t you call a cab?  Why doesn’t somebody do something?”

The security guard looked at him annoyed, verging on angry.

“What do you mean ‘do something’?  He said he won’t wait for a cab, and he’s picking fights with the patrons. It’s my responsibility to make sure he doesn’t hurt anyone here.  I am ‘doing something’,kiddo”.

Dave was quiet for the drive home, until we saw the inebriated gentleman’s car wrapped around a light post, a couple miles down the road.

“I could have done something.  I should have intervened sooner.  Dianna would have done something”.

I tried to convince him that no, in fact: he couldn’t have done anything.  The man was drunk beyond reason, easily eight times Dave’s size, and had no qualms about playing rough with the club’s security (some of which were easily fifteen times).

He just looked at me, eyes welling up with regret, but his posture tense, as if coiled.

“I could have done something”.

I believe him.

Next time, he will.

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Posted under dave's blog