The Shifting Sands of Culture and Popular Interest, or A Trekkie's Realization

I work in a call center. It's the kind of job that requires a whole lot of sitting and mindlessly talking into a foam-covered microphone which is tethered to my head (talk about a yoke of bondage). Sometimes it's nice to have a little escape from such an environment while strapped in for a long shift. For me that comes in the form of a book or magazine, preferably one with pictures and short blurbs of text because it's hard to focus while being yelled at by over-entitled monsters.

Yesterday before my shift I spent a couple of hours searching local dens of randomness and obscurity for a copy of a Star Trek magazine or reference guide. I was driven to this by the realization that I have a life of love for Trek but really nothing more to show for it than toys and some random novelizations. The mission objective was very clear: get Jonathan some Star Trek textual mind candy so that he won't blow a gasket at work and lose his job because he called some upper-middle class lady in Ohio a cunt rag (trust me, she would have had it coming).

The first stop was a little overstock discount bookstore which at one time housed a plethora of Trek books. I walked in feeling more than hopeful and maybe a little bit giddy as my eyes adjusted to the florescent lighting and my nose to the smell of the ghost of a spurt from an aerosol air freshener which faded away to reveal the familiar odor of aging paper. My feet took me to part of the store where I was sure the books still lay. There was a terrible sinking feeling when I discovered that not only were the books missing from there long-time home in the back corner but the store had absolutely nothing related to Star Trek. They didn't even have a single, crummy novel about how Kirk gets cloned or Picard's Mirror Universe self enters our universe and wreaks havoc (stories I know some fan is dying to tell). Walking out I found that my hope had diminished but it had not yet expired.

On to the next field I thought as I found my hunter's spirit causing my heart to furiously pound. Time was running out as I pulled into yet another parking lot and shot from my car into the bowels of yet another book store. I dug through the new book section. I pored over the used book section. There was a surprising lack of Trek in both. The magazine racks were my last hope and I rushed to them to dig. There was plenty of Entertainment Weekly-like magazines for geek and pleb alike, but there was not a cover that bore the two words I desperately sought. Realizing the time, I shuffled back to my car and allowed internal combustion and the marriage of tire-to-asphalt to whisk me away to a boring night at a hellish job.

Later that night I spent time reflecting on my disappointment and something greater, and personally far more disturbing. Star Trek had become another faceless science-fiction series. In spite of the most recent film and its short-lived marketing boom, the franchise had disappeared from all but the most specialized and geeky of shelves. The last store I ran through had maybe five novels on the series shelf of the science-fiction section. Their magazine area had mostly comic related entertainment rags and, for once, Doctor Who Magazine (this would have blown my mind ten years ago, hell, even back when I was five!). How crazy is it that I can now find Doctor Who material almost everywhere I go but Star Trek is hidden away behind dusty boxes and under mysterious tomes? The popular focus has really shifted, though it's good to know that the genre of science-fiction in general wasn't crushed under the wheels of this most recent change. It still astounds me, and probably always will, just how much things have changed. I grew up in an era of Trek conventions and people who dressed up like they were in Starfleet. Now everyone is wearing a TARDIS shirt or even boasting about their love for Battlestar and Cylons. Really?!

It's amazing to me as I look back on the things I loved as a child and follow them up to the current. I remember the years and years, and there are still days and days, of geeking out in front of a television, now a computer, and soaking up the wonder that beamed out from the screen. A screen which displayed scenarios and portrayals which swelled my heart with love for the genre SF. Star Trek held that screen most often. It is a series that will always hold a special place in my heart and will never truly die. Then again it's possible that I'm being overly dramatic and I just ran around yesterday in a section of the universe that wished to hide Trek from me and just make it available everywhere else. Perhaps it was my own personal corner of that mischievous region known as the Twilight Zone. There are probably stores out there that have so much Trek lining their walls and covering their shelves that it's painful to behold the innards of their establishments. I could take some of that pain right about now.

Anyway, work was work and I eventually arrived home again to restore my humanity, my sanity, and to apply the escapist's balm that is Star Trek. The familiar music, the continual hum of the engines, and the characters and alien species I deeply care for were there to welcome me back. It was my day's equivalent to a stop into Ten Forward to break up the monotony of yet another period of pulling seemingly endless duty. I kicked back and resumed the soaking in of SF entertainment, unconsciously aware of my honoring a tradition I've kept since I was a little boy who clutched at action figures as epic adventure tore across the tube. Maybe I'll dig out my Enterprise D this weekend and play with it while watching season one of The Next Generation. No, not maybe. Definitely!

Turtles, Turtles, Turtles...A Life-Long Fanaticism

They're mean. They're green. They're fighting machines, as they used to say.

I've been an enormous fan of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles since I was a wee lad munching on frozen, store-bought, TMNT marketing-labeled pizzas and watching the first live action film. I had every piece of TMNT merchandise my parents and finances would allow. Every Saturday morning I'd watch the cartoons, then I'd play with my action figures until mid-day. Occasionally, if I was lucky, I'd find old issues of the various Turtle's comics and read and reread them. I loved, and still to this day, love the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles!

Now, in the present, I find a new series of comics from publisher IDW. The Mirage books of a few years past are still accessible, but as far as I can tell Mirage is no longer printing new Turtles material. Peter Laird has stepped into the shadows and Kevin Eastman has stepped out to properly hand off the green dudes to a new creative team and a different publisher. A creative team that just so happens to be writing some of the best Turtles material in years!

As of the time of this writing IDW has released five issues from the Turtle's regular series and two Micro-Series books featuring Raphael and Michelangelo. The main series is wonderfully written and the artwork has an action to it that fits perfectly along with the characters. We're given a new kind of TMNT from the very beginning, but we are not forced to wade through issue upon issue of exposition. The characters are there, we're moved from the present to the past with well-planned flash backs, and even though it's new it instantly feels familiar and right. Up to the most recent issue we're given only hints and snippets of information that basically tell us that the Turtles and their mentor Splinter were not vagabond animals or lost pet shop critters. There's reason given to all the changes as they're presented, there's mystery without a lack of substantial storytelling, and each new issue gifts us with a neatly styled extra piece of an incredible puzzle. Even though we know the guys, Splinter, Casey Jones, and April we're still left with a single question. That question, not quite on par with the enormity of questions such as "Who killed Laura Palmer?" but still massive, is "Just where did Splinter, with his deep and ancient memory, and the four ready-for-action Turtles actually come from?"

Every issue is a must-have for me, not just because I'm a huge fan but because the guys at IDW are publishing good comics. It feels like the Turtles have been given a new home with creators who not only care about them, but want them to be at their best in the four-colored world of comics. Everything appears to have been given great detail and attention. It even appears that the creative team on the current book is looking to include and validate as much of the random Turtle-verse from over the years as possible. We've seen images of characters exclusive to the cartoon. We've been given reason for why each Turtle has their own color. Now we wait for the answer to the above question, and we're left to wonder about the now feudal Japanese Hamato Yoshi and his four sons.


So many questions. So much quality storytelling. I can't wait for the next issue. There's no reason why you, if you enjoy comics, should not be reading this series.

For the IDW Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles up to this date I give a five out of five. Pick it up when you can and enjoy it!

Cool Stuff - The Geek Goes Mad

Ever since I can remember I've collected things. There were items I'd hoard because my little mind was overjoyed at how awesome they were. Other things were pushed on me by adults who thought that a young boy should collect certain boyish collectibles (baseball cards and such). In the end my geekiness won out. The inner child is still at large today snatching up what time, money, and resources allow. Nothing pisses my wife off more.

Recently while Christmas shopping for my wife I accidentally discovered a relic of my geekdom, the finding of which I'd liken to the finding of the Excalibur in a pond somewhere in the Midlands of England. Inside a dusty display case at my local comic book shop sat a Madman Yo-Yo. There it was, the weapon of Frank Einstein, the creation of the ultra groovy Mike Allred (who along with his awesome wife Laura was kind enough to grant me an interview for my new book). I knew I had to have it.

So here I sit now attempting to distract myself from work on my current comic project. I already ordered a Madman mask from the sweet folk at Graphitti Designs. I just bought this incredible Yo-Yo, and I have a camera conveniently lying close by. The following photos are the product of when these things combine! (I'm sorry?)

Some Madman collectibles I've acquired over the last few years. I have the original action figures. They're off in a case somewhere.

Just for fun I decided to try it all out.

Here's a version I colored to match the skin tone of Frank. I did an incredibly sloppy job, but it was a lot of fun! (Also, a nice distraction from work)

Hallowe'en and its magic

If there's one holiday in the year that I look forward to with an insane amount of excitement it's Hallowe'en. Ever since I was a child this holiday has been significant, not only for the costumes and candy but for the experiences I've had. Some of my earliest memories are of a Hallowe'en store somewhere in northern Indiana in the late 80s, early 90s. I can recall the huge pumpkin displays and the gift of wax lips my sister and I chewed on in the back of our family's car. I can still hear the bubbling of a cauldron, the howling of distant wolfmen, and the groaning of undead which emanated from our car stereo as my dad played a horror sound effects tape, making sure to crank the volume at the most horrifying points. It was an obnoxiously amusing decision against which my mother screamed loud protests.

Nothing beats the enchantment of this holiday especially when one considers the traditions and history it represents. From early pagan festivals to the Irish lantern turnip humanity has been, in some way, remembering the importance of harvest time and the thinning of the veil between the world of those of us who live and the shadow realm of those long dead. The macabre holds center stage as the night hours spring to life with new mystery and whimsy. It's a fitting time to think not only about the end of the tiring growing season but to dream about the vague wonders that lay beyond our comprehension. There's no better time to subject one's self to horror. Nor is there a better time to revel in the fear and magic of it all.

This year I carved my first Jack o' Lantern since I was a small child. Knowing now why the pumpkin is carved and what it represents, I am able to enjoy this tradition in a way I could not before. As I stared into the glowing eyes of the hollowed-out vegetable I could not help but let my imagination go wild. I thought of all the dark, spooky things that are spoken of this time of year. I thought of witches communing around secret fires and eaters of man-flesh roaming the streets looking for a wholesome, delectable kill. My mind went to the covens of imbibers of life's sanguine fluid as they gather in high rooms, contemplating their approach to commemorating the day this year. I also thought of traditional spirits as they also took their place roaming the night. Woe be, I thought, to the one who meets the dullahan somewhere far away upon a murky road, or heaven protect the one who hears the keening of the bean sidhe out in the misty midnight as she turns over a blood-soaked article of clothing in her bony hands.

This year, dear reader, may you find and enjoy the true magic of this incredible holiday. Whether you spend it amongst friends, at home with classic, seasonal horror films, or out performing dark deeds, enjoy. Happy Hallowe'en!

Pursuit of Dreams and the Frequented Path

We recall names, famous and great, when speaking of ideas and events. They are our markers, our examples. A referent seems necessary for any person to make any kind of declaration. It grounds our current words and trends in history and ties together culture, society, and species. I suppose I have a few names to throw out now as I declare that as of January of the next year I will cease attending college to pursue a career in writing.

The names I'd like to apply to support this declaration are Benjamin Franklin and the recently late Steve Jobs. These two men, separated by centuries, periods, and technological evolution are examples of success beyond the realm of formal education. Both men at some point abandoned the over-structured series of courses and subjects, striking out to teach themselves new ideas and apply their talents to the world. In doing this both of these fellows found success and apparently, from what he have to read of their lives and experiences, were richer, more well-rounded people for making such a decision.

I hope to find a way to market my writing so that I can spend the rest of my life contributing to the immeasurable library of our species. If I can sell my work to periodicals, fiction magazines, and perhaps get a novel published within a seven month period I will have the evidence and confirmation I need to continue to work at and pursue a professional life of expression and word-smithing. If I should find success in even one of these areas that will be sufficient.

This decision is justified, I feel, by the remarks and support I've received from readers of my writing since my late high school days to the present. I have found enough serious and considerate feedback to support at least an attempt at having the life and profession I desire. To be fair to myself, my wife, and our future I at least have to try. Ideally I'd like to regularly publish articles, stories, and novels and be able to support my wife by doing so.

As far as education is concerned, I know that I am naturally inquisitive, though I am often easily distracted from things of interest. While working at developing a writing career I will not neglect the growth of my knowledge. What hope shall I have if I am to be working from a stagnant mind? To avoid such I will continue to study and self-educate as anyone and everyone should until their life's end.

If I find failure in this course, which for me would be to not sell or successfully publish any work in over a half year period, I shall return to furthering my education at the university level and working my non-creative, stale office job. My hope is that this is not where I find myself in half a year's time, but if it is I will accept that my path goes in a different direction and I will continue what I have been doing. The important thing, regardless of what happens in this period, is that I will have tried.

Like Franklin and Jobs I hope to look back years from now on a life of which I'm proud. May I find then, if my life be so fortunate, that my accomplishments sprang from, to paraphrase Sir Philip Sidney, following the zodiac of my own wit. Here's to an attempt to not only follow a path traversed by the greats but to pursue my dreams and make them my reality.

One of the best nights...They Might Be Giants and Jonathan Coulton come to Grand Rapids!

Looking back I can say that I have maybe been to two or three actual concerts. When I write concert here I mean a rather large event that is nationally publicized and one for which I have to fork out money. There was Lord of the Dance (really) when I was younger and then some big-name DJ shows after I first met my wife. This isn't counting the dozens of local shows I've attended.

Last night my wife and I had the pleasure to attend a concert (definitely fitting the above definition), and it was one of the best I have ever seen or could possibly imagine. Jonathan Coulton, one of my long time favorite musicians, opened for They Might Be Giants at The Intersection in Grand Rapids, MI. This was a show we had been anxiously anticipating for a long time.

From the beginning of Jonathan Coulton's "Code Monkey" to They Might Be Giants' "Dead," in their second encore, I knew that this was an event I'd remember for the rest of my life. The crowd was feeling the music and the musicians seemed to be enjoying themselves. The combination of these elements made for a beautiful atmosphere. I felt the urge to drop everything and follow this show around the country for a month or two. If only I could.

Jonathan Coulton's set was energetic and humorous, as I expected it to be, but it felt like it was far too short. I guess I neglected to remember that he was the opening act, but his set was the reason I wanted to attend in the first place so I naturally wanted more. He opened, as I previously stated, with "Code Monkey" and played several songs from his terrific new album "Artificial Heart." I managed to pick up a signed copy while at the show. In regard to the quality of his set, backed by a skillful, cohesive band and leading with his rocking guitar and vocals he managed to put on an exceptional performance. He even managed to fit in "Still Alive" which folks who have played Portal should recognize.

They Might Be Giants flat out blew the place up, which was something I honestly did not know to expect. All of them talented musicians they pulled off a successful show with pogo-inducing music and crowd interactions that I find seriously lacking from most other shows I've experienced. They started out with new material from their fresh album "Join Us" and they smoothly curved back into their catalog to delight of the pulsing mob. Their return to favorites like "Istanbul (not Constantinople)," "Dead," and "Birdhouse In Your Soul" plastered a stupid grin on my face as I happily joined in the stage-front throng. What a show!

I spent most of the show up next to stage right's speaker and am still nearly deaf as I write this. My thoughts and feelings on this experience have given me a drive to go out and attend as many concerts of interest as I can find. I hope to see Jonathan Coulton perform again soon, preferably with the longer set his talent is due, and I wouldn't mind catching They Might Be Giants again in the near future. Chicago on September 23, anyone?

The New 52 Continued and Finally Purpose for the Ultimate Universe

Another Wednesday has come and gone. The last time I picked up comics, especially those from DC's new line up, I had a thing or two to say (see previous entry). Now I'm sitting here with a brand new pile in my lap which consists of a few offerings from good old, inconsistent DC, and two neat titles from another member of the League of Inconsistency, friendly Marvel. I feel that for once most of what I picked up was worth the effort and money.

I only bought a few of the new titles from DC this week (I'm not a 52-whore like some people who are full of collector madness). For the reading I have Batman and Robin #1, Green Lantern #1, Red Lanterns #1, and Frankenstein Agent of S.H.A.D.E. #1. So, for starters, we are back in Gotham City guided by the words of Peter J. Tomasi and the crisp artwork of Patrick Gleason. This issue left me feeling more satisfied than Detective Comics #1, but it caused some irritation due to the continued presence of the character of Damien (Wayne) in the world of Batman. This is a character I'm not too fond of but it seems other fans insist that he remains, so the publisher makes sure he does. It started by addressing the terribly unfortunate Batman Inc. idea of pre-52 days and then moved into Bruce Wayne's traditional tribute to his murdered parents. I appreciate that this new numbering begins back where they man, the hero found his beginnings. If only we didn't have the uncaring commentary of Damien to ruin a special moment for the one character in the book that actually matters. Anyway, I'm probably going to be picking up the next issue because of the collaboration of talent on the book and to follow the story line that has piqued my interests (no spoilers).

Then there's Green Lantern #1, a book that pretty much looks and reads like it did before the renumbering. Another title that shouts, "What was the point?" The universe of Hal Jordan, still penned by Geoff Johns with art by my old Darkhorse favorite Doug Mahnke, is the same except it's not. Apparently Sinestro was granted Jordan's ring, something I missed during my period away from DC when they started up Brightest Day. That's definitely an interesting twist except that it leaves our favorite cocky test pilot looking like the rest of America, slave to a stack of bills without any employment or discernible purpose. I guess that means that I'll be coming back next month to see what the heck is going to happen. Though while I wait for the calendar to roll around to next issue I can read Red Lanterns #1. This selection from the new number ones I really looked forward to when DC initially released their teaser promotional art and synopses. It's too bad that it read like it did, even though it was written by Peter Milligan. An entire group of Lanterns based on anger and a lust for pain with Atrocitus as their headman? If only the story could redeem that idea for me. Too bad it didn't. I guess my $2.99 will be spent on something else come the time of next issue.

The last of this week's DC comics I thought worthy of my attention was Frankenstein Agent of S.H.A.D.E. (damn acronyms), or should I say Super-Frankenstein and his merry band of government agent-types acting as Universal Monsters. I picked this up because I really enjoy the writing of Jeff Lemire, who did a wonderful job on last week's Animal Man #1, and in pursuing this new work from Lemire I had the privilege of discovering the artwork of Alberto Ponticelli. This title is cleverly odd from its sci-fi, super hero-world beginning to its monster, JLA-like, combat-heavy end. Frankenstein's history in the DCU is unknown to me, but for some strange reason in the few pages where he speaks or gives glimpse of his personality I find myself liking his character. I also like the idea that the book's resident mad-scientist swaps bodies on a regular basis and is currently a little girl in a domino mask. Then there's the crack team (BPRD-like) of government agents-turned-creatures of the night. Their introduction was silly and made it difficult for me to keep smiling through the rest of the book. To sum up my impression of this title, it's like the Justice League of Monsters fighting other, more chaotic monsters whilst employing the best technology Ray Palmer can throw at them. I'll be back next month for this one for sure.

My search for comics definitely paid off on the Marvel end this week. I picked up Captain America #1, written by Ed Brubaker with artwork by Steve McNiven, and even though I have no idea how Steve Rogers returned from the dead or what happened to Shield, I found this to be a fun return to the way Cap should be. McNiven's artwork was phenomenal as usual and Brubaker's handling of Cap continues to work for me. What will happen to Steve and Nick Fury next? I'll find out next issue.

My second selection from the House of Ideas was one I hope every fan of comics was open-minded enough to buy. Now, I usually dislike the Ultimate books which Marvel has milked since the early 2000s, mostly because they tell new versions of old characters when all I want are better tales from the classic Marvel canon, but Brian Michael Bendis, a writer whose work I don't worship like other Marvel readers, has given us, especially me, something in the Ultimate Universe that is finally worth reading. Ultimate Spider-Man #1, featuring Miles Morales as the new Spidey, was a book that gave its readers the hero stories they crave while introducing a different take on an old character. Finally we have some fresh and non-typical material. I enjoy Peter Parker as Spider-Man, in fact he's one of my favorite characters, but we already have him in the main Marvel Universe doing his thing. Why do we need him in an alternate continuity doing the same? Thankfully young Mr. Morales is on the scene to change stuff up, give us a new take on what it's like for a boy to gain super powers, and finally, in my opinion, justify the Ultimate Universe. I look forward to issue two and have to thank Mr. Bendis for being awesome.

I'll return next week to review more from DC, see if Marvel can continue to entertain me, and ask the questions most elderly, Alsatians are afraid to ask. Till then.