A special good night

I've been hearing from a coworker of mine who complains that with all that's going on in the world today, the thing the media is hung up on is Michael Jackson. It sounds reasonable enough on the surface, but given the source I wasn't too surprised to find out that it was a right-wing talking point. It's keeping the Iranian drive for democracy down? Whatever, I say. Apparently nothing good can happen in the world until all Americans clap their hands and say they believe.

As for MJ himself, it is sad, yes. But in a way it was a long time coming. The surgeries had increasingly made him look like the Jeff Koons sculpture of him. He took both his person and his music out of contact with the world. This may be necessary for the artist up to a point, but there's a point beyond that.

Anyway, on a brighter note, I tracked down my favorite skit from Monty Python's Flying Circus. With a Portuguese lesson, to boot!

Of course those priceless Cleese expressions transcend language.

Adventures in retrolesbomodernism

Been letting the blog slide a little. Partly because of the thumb, which is an annoying distraction. Right now I have (ICK ALERT) a flap of loose skin hanging on the tip, raw dermis underneath. So I should have a fully functional opposeable thumb soon.

Just doing a quick comics post now. Today I picked up a copy of Detective Comics #854. This was the first issue to feature Batwoman as the lead character, while Bruce Wayne is majorly in absentia as Batman. There was basically one factor determining my purchase. The character of Batwoman (a gritty update of a Silver Age femme) hadn't made much of an impression on me. Writer Greg Rucka has always struck me as okay/middling, and reading one of his novels hadn't helped my opinion.*

Then there's the artist. JH Williams III may have a name that smacks of mediocre political appointee, but he's one of the true artists in mainstream comics today. His work shows the influence of predecessors like Gil Kane and Neal Adams, but he has also absorbed lessons from classic illustrations and fine art. He was about as much of a selling point on Promethea and Seven Soldiers as their celebrated writers. Which is a roundabout way of saying that at least there was a guarantee of pretty pictures.

It's better than that, though. Rucka has upped his game. There's no half-assed attempt at realism here. Kate Kane's world is dramatic, expressionist, and not afraid of its own silliness. In place of Alfred she has her father, an old soldier who's never taken off his uniform and could work as Aldo Ray's double. And Batwoman is a wonder at work, scary and seductive. Williams is key here. In his hands the character is not just hot in the J-cups and wasp waist way. She's achingly beautiful. And that spills over into the civilian scenes as well. A lunch with a new girlfriend goes badly. It's an obvious irony--Kate has to put on basically the same spoiled playboy act as Bruce Wayne--but it's poignant in its presentation.

The weak point is plot. No one can, or at least usually does, tell a story in fifteen pages anymore. So it's basically just shake up a witness, talk to Dick Grayson as Batman, and track down a(nother) freaky Lewis-Carroll-themed villain who doesn't get a chance to do anything. But it's fun to read nonetheless.

The Question back-up--featuring Batwoman's ex--only has about seven pages to get started. It essentially establishes that there are a lot of tough, mean Hispanics out there. It too has good art from Cully Hamner, though. And it's nice to see that Renee Montoya is making Web 2.0 pay.



*If you crave unlikeable cardboard heroes facing off against ridiculous cardboard villains, Smoker will be a treat.

Pop goes

Andy Warhol is known to have said, "Pop art is liking things." And I am all in favor of liking things. Okay, that sounds like the blandest sentiment in history. But it takes commitment to remain easygoing. For instance, typing all ten letters of the word "commitment" without wandering off. You think that's easy?

Anyway, I'd like to welcome The Booberry Alarm Clock to the blogroll. It's a poppy blog, with one of the best names I've heard on the 'net. There's also an awesome and somewhat frightening collection of '70's gum wrappers.

The picture below--a silkscreen--is by Matthew Brannon, who's still young and seems to like a lot of stuff. His stuff looks simple, but there's a twist if you look again. Anyway, it seemed to fit.

President's pocket protector pal

I thought this was worth looking at. John Hodgman, best known for playing Brand X in Apple's Get a Mac ads, addressing the Radio and TV Correspondents dinner.

Certainly there's some geeky genius schtick going on here, but Hodgman is also a pretty cogent arguer. The concept of God as a "cold and distant Dungeonmaster" is the best explication I've heard of Jefferson et al's deism, at least for those familiar with D&D.

Believe it or not I never knew about the Superman statue in Metropolis, Illinois. Guess that's why Sufjan Stevens put that song about Superman on his Illinois-themed album when Supes was created in Cleveland, Ohio. (Yes, I quite frequestly scare myself.)

Let's make a deal

I've written before about Southland Tales, a movie I'll champion any day of the week. Sony should probably think about leasing it out for midnight shows at least. With Fringe offering both parallel universes and straight-faced absurdity to a willing public, maybe some more groundwork has been done.

Anyway, director Richard Kelly is talking about his yet unreleased movie The Box, which I think is supposed to be out in the fall. What can I say? I hope it's good, and it should be of interest. Richard Matheson wrote some spooky stories, only a few of which made it onto The Twilight Zone. This one was adapted on the 80's version, but I'm curious to see how it plays out at feature length.

Also I hear there are a lot of seventies cars in it. Gremlin fans take note.

Bumbling henchmen

Over the weekend I developed this nasty steak-mold-green abscss under a thumbnail. Today it got intolerable so I went to the ER and a nice PA lanced it. Right now the thumb is wrapped up in this blue rubber turban. So I can't write much, really.

But I thought this Juan Cole post from over the weekend was worth looking at. It's a list of suspicious stuff about the big-show election in Iran. Notable:

1. It is claimed that Ahmadinejad won the city of Tabriz with 57%. His main opponent, Mir Hossein Mousavi, is an Azeri from Azerbaijan province, of which Tabriz is the capital. Mousavi, according to such polls as exist in Iran and widespread anecdotal evidence, did better in cities and is popular in Azerbaijan. Certainly, his rallies there were very well attended. So for an Azeri urban center to go so heavily for Ahmadinejad just makes no sense. In past elections, Azeris voted disproportionately for even minor presidential candidates who hailed from that province.

Ahmedinejad should have hired James Baker as his campaign chair. He knows how to do this stuff.

Still looking for a logo

Well, she's got a running feud now with someone in the media. So the brand-building continues apace.