If I told you, friend, that I failed...

Thank god for the saints and saviors of my youth. They swept in to spite the restrictions and uncomfortable miscellanea of a smotheringly close-knit family and the oppressions of religion, along with its patented complex of guilt. If it weren't for them I would never have found the freedom to try at living; I would never have begun to understand the concept of friends. But where did I leave them?

I see people in the company of other people with massive, toothy grins. All appearances tell my eyes to notify my brain that they're experiencing the joy of social interaction. A part of me winces at that notion, for it realizes my shameful, self-imposed solitude. I know they don't quite get it, though, because they're on television - in some inane commercial - and they can't possibly guide me in the chore of sounding the depths of one of life's truest joys. There's a different sort of people capable of that, they're even in my native third-dimension, and I chose to forget about them to my intense regret.

Reality and life are gargantuan, and both seem to loom the most when I engage my incredibly perceptive hindsight. I have failed at other people. It's not my duty to give them everything they need, I've learned. My incorrect assumptions before that knowledge were damaging. Instead it is my duty, to those I am gifted with along the way, to try and ease their quest for happiness, support them when they require it, and love them in spite of the sap which pours off such a notion. Though, because I've failed I'm wallowing in the absence of real people. My way into an enjoyable reality, upon this realization, is beyond my grasp.

I've found love. I've given love. I still go looking for the various types of love apart from that which the central person of my life, my wife, has already gifted me. The darkness I climbed into once upon a time, when the world came crashing in, felt so very heavy. I've overcome that, though, and am now out, free, crying for the opportunities for love I neglected or foolishly tossed aside.

What's more, I let that dark idiocy mar my wife's ability to love others. My yawning void consumed her healthy flame. Panicked, passionate attempts at repairation, capable through the clarity of self-revelation, may never be sufficient enough to help in healing that slight.

In the end I'm left with questions. Weighty questions. I just need to let myself live with my hands out, grasping at what I hope are answers. Time continues and I am beginning to reach. Maybe they're still out there somewhere.

Science-Fiction and Fantasy Magazines

There is a magic which eminates from a shelf full of classic science-fiction and fantasy short fiction magazines. Maybe it's the aged pages or the smell of old print. Perhaps it's the wealth and weight of the significant fiction which resides within each volume. It could very well be several things, but no matter what those might be one can not deny the allure of those wondrous fiction periodicals.

I have of late been actively taking my collection off its shelf to page through the issues I'm fortunate enough to own. The mesmerizing artwork on each cover, the novel fonts, and the inspiring words of the dreams of wizardly men and women of decades past combine with terrific effect to nearly bring tears to my eyes as I let my somatic, olfactory, and visual senses anxiously explore the yellowed sheets of my sizeable grouping of these magical volumes. Few printed items are as cherished by me.

So, if you are ever in a second hand bookstore and are blessed with the opportunity to stumble upon the older issues of the various science-fiction and fantasy magazines do yourself the favour of purchasing them. Don't question it. Just act. Once you get them home and allow yourself to experience the format you will, if you be an individual who cherishes astounding tales presented in a charming manner, find yourself hopelessly enamored.

Bonus lectio!

Columbus Day and A Note on Self-Education - Two Pieces

Having myself read excerpts from Christopher Columbus' own letters, addressed to associates and the monarchs who funded his voyages to the New World, I feel that it is my duty to point out that he was a pathetic, self-serving, inhumane piece of shit. The man thought nothing for the natives, allowing them to suffer horrendous torture at the hands of his crew. All that he claimed during his voyages ...was claimed in hopes that he would be highly recognized and handsomely rewarded for his "contributions" (theft and slave-gathering) to his royal sponsors. He was so unbearable a person and leader that the men under his "command" often contended with him, going so far as to imprison him and send him back to Europe in chains.

In his letters he whined about his "suffering," fed Isabella and Ferdinand lines about how his accomplishments would only make them look good if they continued to fund and empower him, and he showed a complete disregard for other human life. I encourage everyone to read them. Learn your history and the truth behind the "heroes" who are wrongly praised for the existence of the modern world (though, if you consider the modern world...) and the corporate sales days during which horrible people of the current age attempt to swipe some of your capital.

Basically, to hell with Columbus Day.  

-----  

The most significant test regarding the furtherance of one's education in the modern world is the test of attendance. It is a test of intelligence, and any who would pay massive sums to attend an establishment of higher learning in this day, from which they will mostly earn unemployment and atrocious debt, have failed. Further your own knowledge, for the world lays itself open before you. You need only stir up the drive to explore it.

The Tick - A Wonderful, Often Abused Character



Growing up watching the once-exceptional programming available through Fox Kids, I was gifted with the immense pleasure of viewing an animated adaptation of Ben Edlund's "The Tick." I found it to be an intensely hilarious cartoon, one which kept me coming back every time it was scheduled to air. Then suddenly one day, like so many animated beauties of my youth, it disappeared from my little cartoon-loving world, removed from the lineup by the big heads of the Fox Network.

Driven by fanboy grief at the loss and anxious to once again view the attention-capturing series, I began to actively seek out anything I could find tied to "The Tick." Though my search was often hindered by a child's lack of income and indifferent parents, I was eventually able to locate and purchase a two episode VHS from the series. That find eased my eager mind for a while as I found myself watching and rewatching it as often as I could.

As I grew, my appreciation for the character continued to live on until I eventually, luckily, chanced upon copies of the original comic book series (the native medium of "The Tick," for those who don't know). Those marvelous black and white stories of The City's brown-then-blue hero introduced me to a different side of the character and his world, entertaining me just as much if not more than the animated series. I bought up what I could when I could, but the seed that was planted when I first viewed the animated series as a child still drove me to cry for more.

Eventually an incredible and unforeseen event occurred which proved to be as wonderful to my Tick-craving nerd brain as the discovery of the comic series. Fox proved that they were not quite finished with the character, and in 2001 the studio made the move to spring a warmly welcomed live action series on The Tick's fanbase, starring the perfectly cast Patrick Warburton as "Big Blue." Unfortunately, after a mere nine spectacular episodes they took that away from us, as well. Considering this tragedy and other noteable cancellations, it began to seem like the executives at Fox had it out for my beloved interests.

They say that good things come to those who wait, though, and when Buena Vista Home Entertainment deigned to gift Tick fans with their beloved cartoon on DVD I found great validity in that saying. Naturally I rushed out to buy the first season when it hit store shelves. Taking it home I dove into the episodes as soon as I could, but a horrible discovery served to cheapen the blessing of my sudden access to a whole lot of animated Tick. An asterisk on the DVD's episode listing, which marked an omitted episode, began an irritation which was exacerbated by a similar notation in the episode listing of the soon-after released Season Two DVD. For some unknown reason Buena Vista released the first two seasons of the show with each collection sporting the scar of an omitted episode.

To this day I have not found a sufficient explanation for this omission. I've searched message boards and comment sections on various websites. I've read statements from individuals responsible for the production of the animated series. No one who has written of this terrible slight seems to know why the fans were cheated. To make matters worse the distributor does not currently have plans to release any episodes from the third season on DVD. Till the time of this writing the wait continues. Buena Vista or anyone with the power to affect the production of a complete series DVD release of The Tick, if you're reading this, please, please release a complete series collection, unedited if possible. Please?!

Regardless, it's been a wonderful ride these many years. I've been fortunate to discover such an inspiring and hilarious world with its plethora of bizarre characters during a time when my creative mind was fertile and needed exposure to such things. Ben Edlund's work on The Tick has been something I've happily followed, and I'll continue to follow it for the rest of my life. Here's hoping we get some new Tick soon!

Stories and Such

Here are some stories I once foolishly committed to Facebook's Notes section. Enjoy and feel free to leave comments.

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Just Another Night

Ivory-knuckled was the old man's vice grip on the fat handle of the diner's stoneware coffee mug. The black brew danced inside, playing the reflections of the establishment's yellowed lighting across its surface. This man took his coffee like he took most things in life, straight and without the unnecessaries. 

Gail bounced about the joint, her pink anachronistic diner outfit swaying as she made her rounds. She eyed the considerable figure who had refused a warm up about half a dozen times since he first received the mug over an hour before. Finally she crossed the counter and let her top weight drop onto her elbows as they hit the counter opposite the man. Her glimmering hazel eyes peered into the fellow's unfocused orb.

"You can't just sit here all night, fella!" Gail's gaze turned stern as she noticed the ineffectiveness of her words. "What else can I get you?" she spoke at him, her voice rising.

The man seemed to stare with his eye into the pattern of the diner counter's Formica top. "It's a night for cursing gods, Gail. I'm set with the joe. Give me a minute and I'll duck out."

"You can't stay here much longer, but you oughta be careful where you go when you get," Gail replied with a snicker. "You curse gods in this town and things get messy, ya know."

He raised his eye to peer at her. The wrinkles about it deepened as he scrunched up his face. "I'll god damn a god if it's all I've got left to do. They can hang me a million times out there and once again for good measure and I'll still hop down and be back here a'cursin' 'em!"

The sturdy, elderly chap slid off the stool he had perched on during this night's diner haunt. He let his left hand slip into his trouser pocket and allowed it to come back out again flipping a coin in Gail's direction. She caught it with both hands, trembling with an uncertainty towards her reflexes. "Yeah...thanks," she blurted, smirking at him whilst tapping the now firmly held coin on the counter top.

He gave himself a quick stretch and turned to make his exit. Before he shoved open the door he turned to face a pack of surly and equally elderly-looking men in the back corner of the establishment. "Hey, Yahweh! Go fuck yourself!"

A bearded member of the back corner group turned and gestured with his right hand's middle finger. "Back at you, Wod!"

The man, Wod, chortled softly and waved a passive response. The bell above the door dinged as he shoved it open. "Tomorrow, Gail. See you then."

Gail clicked her tongue through a beaming smile in response as he made his way through the portal. "Same as usual. Same as always. Night, night, All-Father!"

-----

Here's what citizens are proudly saying about the Human Global Alliance (HGA)...

“If the Alliance hadn't formed after the Gulf Stream incident then we'd all be suffering. We'd be jobless, homeless, and probably fighting each other just for a bite of food. My goodness, we would all be dead! I'm thankful for the HGA and for all that we have accomplished through it. May the HGA prosper forever!

-Klaus Zimmerman, 29, European Solar Distributor Maintenance Technician

“My great grandfather always spoke of the hardships of the times he grew up in. Economic failure, gradual global climate deterioration, and rampant warmongering. He spoke of conflicts between the various world governments. Can you imagine that? No wonder there was so much struggle and failure. If only he could be alive today. We're incredibly fortunate. As for the HGA, well, it saved us all, didn't it?”

-Helen Lamberton, 24, Great Britain Physiological Research and Advancement Institute, Cardiff Facility

“My mommy says that everybody's in it together. I like that. People should be friends. I've got friends from all over the world, and I wouldn't if it wasn't for the Humanity...sorry, Human Global Alliance! Thank you!!”

-Amani Tawfeek, 8, North America, 2nd Grade student at Dr. Neil deGrasse Tyson Science Academy

These citizens and many, many more are daily extolling the virtues of the greatest endeavor in human history. Together we as a species have united to heal the social and climatic wounds caused by our ancestors.

Never again will a human child die needlessly without food or warmth. Never again will one group of men direct weapons at another. Never again will humanity fall into the blackness of a past of ignorance, superstition, and greed.

Since the ecological crisis in 2022 in the current system known as the Gulf Stream humanity has worked to band together to combat the staggeringly monumental threat posed to the wellness of the entirety of our home, the Earth. As one species we rose to our greatest challenge, our most dire threat, and defeated it to the betterment of all.

We've eliminated systems built on the exchange of and dependence upon capital. We've banded together to strike out into that vastly and eternally rewarding frontier that is Outer Space. We've grabbed the reins of our own fate and struck out towards a future where every man, woman, multi-gendered, and child will prosper and grow without limit.

This is our present. Upon this glorious foundation we are erecting the upwards reaching tower that will be our future.

 We are the Human Global Alliance. Together we have never been as great.

Forever prosper, Alliance! 

Cliff Steward ceased his scribbling. The words upon the page stabbed at his eyes in which great, heaping tears welled up. He sighed and let his pen drop. His hand reached up to comb through his sparse hair. The crackling radio next to him gained clarity and began to blare the familiar Emergency Signal. This time, he thought, it wasn't a test.

He pushed himself up out of his chair and made his way to the glassless window to look out upon the horizon from his second story vista. A warm, stagnant breeze grated past him and caused his throat to tighten. It blew across the grassless field across the street and over through the equally barren yard in front of his shell of a home. Things, remnants of his neighborhood and its former life, creaked and groaned with the force of the wind.

The sun was apparently out, for it was dimly day time, but it remained unseen. Like a smothering blanket, black and red clouds swirled in the air above. Suddenly a flash of light, as bright as if a flash bulb was sparked, blipped in the distance. The breeze became more intense and a far roaring sound began to crescendo.

Cliff looked back at the paper upon the desk. The tears were still coming. He swung his head to face the horizon and back to the desk. He did this several times noticing with each turn that the distance grew darker, fouler. On the desk the pen rolled off the paper, failing then to keep it from rolling away in the now fierce gale.

Cliff Steward thought about that maybe world his fitful sleep had crafted for him through dream. It stung to realize that only dreams were left here in this dark and hopeless reality. If only he had given his dream world life by writing it out. If only things hadn't fallen to hell throughout the world. If only, Cliff thought. If only. 

-A Tomorrow Story-

by

Jonathan Sample



John Waters - A Night Out Amongst the Savagery of Art Prize and the Wisdom of "Smut"

There was a torrent of trendy folks clomping around the streets of Grand Rapids this evening. They blocked roads, took up all the free parking, and exacerbated my existing hatred for the citywide event known, to those unfortunate to be in the GR-Know, as Art Prize. Needless to say, tonight was almost like existing upon a level of hell, one drawn to Earth by the intense intellectual vacuum produced by the pseudo-art savvy, mostly empty minds of various Grand Rapidians and art snobs visiting from abroad. Enter the hero of the night...John Waters.

Having grown up with bits of John Waters' work here and there throughout my occasional filmic explorations I was overjoyed to see that he would be gracing the town in which I live with a brief visit. I was even more elated to learn of his expressed lack of appreciation for the inept and over-publicized "Artsy" Western Michigan event. We had something in common!

I dropped my wife off at the front of the Civic Theatre and began my search for a parking spot with about fifteen minutes left before the start of the show. After about the first two blocks I realized that I would either be walking a great distance to the theatre or I would be paying an  insane amount for an area in which to park my vehicle. I rounded many corners in my anxious search and after a while was convinced that the same slow-walking, vacant expression-wearing guy was at every crosswalk I happened upon. He wasn't the only deplorable, seemingly reoccurring character which stood in the way of my failing attempt to hastily park. There was a hoarde of shambling, culture-seekers, their faces blank yet sneering, crossing en masse at every red light, of which there were many. Sadly, it took more than the fifteen minutes to eventually find a lot where a mere (HA!) eight dollars rented me a space.

Hustling over a crosswalk myself, and feeling a deep subconscious shame while doing so, I made my way over a block's distance to the theatre. The woman at the front door kindly accepted my traffic excuse, informed me that John Waters had already taken the stage, and then directed me to the balcony. My eyes searched around for my wife who was nowhere to be found. So, assuming I was alone for the duration, I leapt up the three flights of stairs and entered into the semi-darkened auditorium, winded, and beheld a sea of distorted heads seated before of me. Past them, below, upon black cloth-draped stage stood the man himself. I took a seat and listened as he continued on about some woman he encountered in his early film career. Made it, I thought.

The talk went on for almost two hours. John was full of an admirable energy, pacing back and forth, barely taking a breath between anecdotes and strange reflections on the people and times he'd encountered and lived. The talk went from strange sex acts, to comments on the events surrounding the production of his films, to the peculiar varieties of subcultures within homosexuality. He spoke about the people he spent time with, the relationship types he preferred, and in a way he debunked the "John Waters Book Meme" proliferated around the internet. Overall it was a stupdendous time, and it ended nicely with the fellow patiently fielding a plethora of random, bizarre, and mostly pointless audience questions and comments. Unfortunately once that had ended there went the night. No photo opportunities. No chance to shake his hand and thank him for pushing the envelope and helping the creators of questionable material find a home for their work in the wider world. Just a simple gracious bow and an exit.

As we shoved our way clear of the theatre I found myself a little happier about things in general, a little more amused with the absurdities amongst which I lived, and almost positive that the people of my town weren't all that bad. Everyone who didn't pose an idiotic query during the question and answer portion seemed as happy as I if not more. There were folks meeting and greeting each other during the mass departure. It was quite pleasant. Then came the walk back to the car. I'll not delve into that and spoil the moment.

So, thanks to John Waters for coming to town. Even if it was just another meaningless paid obligation for him I'm glad I got a chance to see him. Hopefully he'll return to this crazy city one day and there will be a chance to talk to him face-to-face. Maybe someday.

Dredd - Comic Film's Greatest Judge, Jury, and Executioner

Being the type of person who tends to enjoy grey characters, non-typical storytelling, and older printed material it's no surprise that I frequent the back corner boxes of my local comic book shops, and have for years. In those boxes I often find the books that the fans of Marvel and DC take for granted. Through those boxes I've found bits of colorful material from Slave Labor Graphics, old Darkhorse titles, Hernandez Brothers' work, stuff from Daniel Clowes, various other independent comic treasures, and the occasional copy of the British comic anthology 2000AD. It is in the latter that I find not just simple stories about this character or that series of events but a group of stories about varied characters each living in their own brilliant little world.

When I first encountered 2000AD the character who obviously jumped to the forefront was a fellow named Judge Dredd. Dredd is a dealer of supreme justice and a proficient badass, to put it plainly. In reading his stories I recognize that he is a character who, like many of the popular American comic book heroes, stands firm in his beliefs which clearly define him, and in so doing he becomes the paragon for those like him in his world, though his humanity inevitably stirs up questions and doubt at appropriate times to round him out in an exceptional way.

Judge Dredd mostly focuses on a specific duality in human nature which is the focus of the law of his land, good and bad, innocent and criminal. He operates in Mega City One, a metropolis of such tremendous breadth and population that no other name could possibly suffice. In that mega city Dredd patrols the streets with his peers, the Judges of the Hall of Justice, and locates crime so that he might deal judgment upon it. So, we have a mightily vast future city spanning the Washington DC area to New York, filled with hundreds of millions of people, and a law system functioning at a most extreme level. What a terrific setting for a dystopian tale of humanity in a future where society is barely holding itself together.

The character Dredd has been around for many years in the pages of 2000AD and the occasional crossover book. Hollywood produced a film adaptation in the mid-90s starring Sylvester Stallone as the Judge along with some doofy comic relief played by Rob Schneider. It was a tremendous flop, and to this day it remains happily forgotten by most self-respecting comic and movie fans. Then this year Lionsgate boldly released a new film adaptation of the old and beloved tough guy titled Dredd, which features Karl Urban in the titular role. A better product has rarely been made in the adaptation process from page to screen.

Dredd, available in 3D and certainly worthy of that format (more on that later), is a film set in a Mega City One which is very much like the metropolis found in the source material. The story of the film follows Judge Dredd on a seemingly regular day in the life of a Judge. During this particular day he is requested to run a nearly failed Judge-potential, named Anderson and played by the stunning Olivia Thirlby, through a test to determine if she is capable of taking up the position. What occurs during a routine crime check makes for a series of events beyond anything merely routine.

We're introduced to the world of this film version of Dredd in such a succinct way from the beginning that there is no question of where the events are taking place geographically and chronologically nor of the state of humanity. Basically the audience is given fair glimpses of character and world content as the story progresses without a mass of spell-it-all-out exposition cluttering up the beginning of the movie. One of the greatest strengths of this film is its story, mainly in how its structured and executed. Alex Garland, writer of 28 Days Later, was brought on to pen this fine adaptation. Throughout the film Garland wrote the events and characters in such a way that the action flows without any staggering and the audience is given brief views into the potential depth of the issues addressed and the characters at the helm of the thrill ride that is the plot. No one character is completely spelled out from the beginning, but they are instead unravelled as they act and react to the events with which they must contend.

The portrayals of the characters in this film were a joy to watch as they fell within a range from fairly basic, for most of the extras and background characters, to stunning, as were the leads. Karl Urban's portrayal of Dredd was spot on. He masterfully handled both the serious and grim sides of the character along with his merciful and sometimes humorous facets. Olivia Thirlby acted wonderfully as the mutant, possible Judge-to-be. As Anderson she played out the character's sensitive center whilst confidently handling her business side. Lena Headey thespianed the hell out of one of the most villainous ladies to feature in a film of any kind. Her Ma Ma was a cold, driven bitch, commanding in her savageness with a sort of disconnect from reality trailing throughout her. To say that the film was well cast is to make a ridiculous understatement.

Visually this film is sure to set precidents or at least be noted as inspirational to folks in the industry. Having seen several 3D films over the last year and a half I must say that thus far Dredd has most deserved the format and employed it to a magically awe-inspiring level. The violence of the film, which is heavy and graphic, is taken to an almost gorgeous height through the cinematography and use of the 3D effect. Nowhere else does the 3D element most shine than in the scenes where characters are subjecting themselves to the film's despised drug "Slo-Mo." Watching a character hit a vial and dive down 200 stories seems almost enviable when seen through the movie's dazzling 3D. Overall I feel that the look of the movie definitely pays homage to the dynamic wonder of the comic page.

If you're a fan, like me, of 2000AD and are looking for a film which honors your title of interest this is definitely it. If you're just a comic book fan looking for an adaptation which justifies this whole business of constant page-to-screen adapting then this is a film for you. It's many terrific elements assembled into a package of wondrous big screen joy.

Out of five I happily give this film five. Thank you for reading!