Author: Mindy Newell

Mindy Newell: Shivers

“Addendum: By the time of next week’s column, we will have had one full weekend of President Donald J. Trump. Will we all still be here? Will there even be a column? Will America be…Amerika?” • Mindy Newell, ComicMix, January 16, 2017

And so…here we are. We made it through the weekend. One hell of a weekend.

First came the inauguration of Donald J. Trump as the 45th President of the United States, the 45th person to hold that august office which leads this country and the world. There have only been 44 others to have previously owned that title and those responsibilities. Only? Yes. We are a young country in the history of the world. 241 years old this coming July 4th. Our nearest relative, England, is over 1500 years old. We are comparative newborns. And like all newborns, America depends on the stability, care, and love of its parents. America’s father is the Declaration of Independence. Its mother, the Constitution of the United States.)

It has been the tradition of this child to swear in the President with these words:

“I do solemnly swear (or affirm) that I will faithfully execute the Office of President of the United States, and will to the best of my Ability, preserve, protect and defend the Constitution of the United States.”

Donald J. Trump’s inaugural speech was dreary, desolate, and depressing in its description of this country, a “uniquely dark vision of the U.S.,” as the New York Times called it. He was a bully during the long campaign, and the bullying continued into his address; he is, in every way, and as Jon Stewart confirmed him, a “Baby Man,” an emotionally immature schoolyard tyrant whose uncertainty and fear and narcissism live beneath a thin skin of machismo and bravado, to be unleashed whenever or wherever a threat to his manhood and/or to his kingdom is perceived.

“America First!” he said. “This American carnage stops!” And shivers went through the souls of people around the world. It was all too reminiscent of another leader who spoke of lebensraum (“living space”) for his country in the 1930’s.

And then, the next day, Saturday, January 21, Americans answered him. The whole world answered. 500,00 and more women, with their men – my daughter and son-in-law Alixandra and Jeff among them – and their children gathered in Washington, D.C, sprawling from the Lincoln Memorial to the White House and neighborhoods between to march and rally and protest this person who dares to claim that he speaks for the lost, the forgotten, the abused, and the ill.

Trump’s first act as President was to issue an executive order paving the way to the end of the Affordable Care Act, a.k.a. Obamacare. They gathered to the tune of 400,000 and more in New York City at the base of the Man’s High Castle, shutting down 5th Avenue and midtown Manhattan into the night. They gathered in every major city of every State of this Union – Boston, Miami, Indianapolis, Los Angeles, Denver, Portland, Seattle and more (the photos above are from the Chicago rally; 150,000 strong). They gathered across the pond in London, in Paris, in Barcelona, in Rome and Berlin and Prague. They gathered in South Korea and Japan and Australia.

And Donald J. Trump looked out the White House windows and saw that there were many, many more out there than were at his inauguration and sent his press secretary – for bullies cannot look in the eyes of those who say “No!” – to blatantly lie and to warn the media (and the country and the world) that “they would be held accountable.”

America’s father and mother cried on Friday, and they cried on Saturday night.

I didn’t cry. But I shivered.

Yeah, we made it through the weekend.

But what is to come?

Mindy Newell: Mindy’s Mishes And Moshes

This week is a mish-mash featuring my reactions and thoughts to some of my fellow ComicMix columnists and two reader’s thoughts on my column from last week.

In response to my column last week, which I wrote while watching the New York Giants/Green Bay Packers wild card playoff game, Mark Belktron wrote:

Johnny O (the O is for Ostrander) talked about the King, a.k.a. Jack Kirby, yesterday, and his first encounter with the “mild-mannered” genius of the four-color page. Hey, John, did you read the Pulitzer Prize-winning The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay, by Michael Chabon? If not, you really must! In fact, as I once mentioned long ago and far away (but not in another galaxy – at least, I think not), anyone who claims to be a comics fan must – im-not-so-ho, of course – read this, uh, amazing semi-fictionalized and semi-biographical novel of the birth of the comics industry in Depression-era America.

On Friday (January 14), Marc Alan Fishman did a “Tim Gun” critique of the DC film version of Justice League PR picture, which accompanied an article about the film in USA Today. I don’t read that paper, so Marc’s column was the first time I saw this pix. I think Marc has it correct, for the most part.

Batfleck does look fitting (as in, it fits the character), although I have always wondered, going all the way back to Michael Keaton’s turn as the Caped Crusader in Tim Burton’s original Batman (1989), just how weighty and cumbersome the… costume? uniform?… let’s go with “outfit”… and how the athletic and martial-arts empowered Gotham Knight is able to move so swiftly and ably wearing that thing – hmm…have any of the cinema Batmen been able to even turn their head to talk to someone or espy something without having to turn the whole body? (Yes, unwieldy sentence, but so is the suit. Isn’t it?)

Also love, love, love Gal Gadot’s Wonder Woman (as I’ve mentioned numerous times before), but, unlike Marc, I don’t care that the colors of her armament are subdued. Of all the characters’, um, outfits, hers is the most realistic and closest, im-not-so-ho, to what Amazon warriors would wear to battle over 2000 years ago. The others don’t bother me one way or another. Cyborg is just another variation on a, well, cyborg. The Flash and Aquaman are pretty much what I would expect from a Zack Snyder film – and I don’t think that the orange-and-green “look” of the comic would ever translate well to the big screen, and barely to the small screen, for that matter. Anyway, it makes sense that the colors of the deep, dark sea, down so far that sunlight is an unknown (think views of the wreck of the Titanic, lit by mini-submarine) would be reflected in what the “King of the Sea” wears.

My only question about Flash continues to be – why hire a new actor (Ezra Miller) to play Barry Allen when Grant Gustin is just so damn excellent in the role? Yeah, yeah, I know…the televerse and the cineverse are alternate realities, or something. But here, once again, Marvel does it better, blending their ‘verses into one smooth reality.

“That game not only got away from the Giants, but the backlash in the media against OBJ [that’s Giants wide receiver Odell Beckham, Jr. for you non-football people] the next day is killing me as a fan. Have you watched OA yet?”

Sorry, Mark, but im-not-so-ho, a player with the vaunted ability of OBJ should have caught both of Eli’s passes early in the first quarter…especially that wide-open beauty in the end zone. I don’t really care what the players do off the field – well, barring domestic violence and any other behavior which can lead to some serious injury to themselves and/or others (New York defensive end Jason Pierre-Paul blowing his hand up real good with a firecracker, for instance) – if they show up on the field. My brother thinks OBJ is overrated, and I do tend to agree with him, if only because the wide receiver is too damn inconsistent to be placed with the other great wide receivers of the game. The players of the NFL apparently get it – OBJ was named to the All-Pro second team this year.

Regarding that same column, in which I wondered if the new 24 will be “worth it,” ReneCat said:

“Mindy, you hit the nail on the head! 24 without Jack (especially) and Chloe is just 24 Lite.”

Perhaps I’m just a big, bitter grump, ReneCat. (Reference Star Trek: The Original Series, Season One, Episode Eight: “Miri.”) I just watched the last three episodes of last season’s Homeland before watching the sixth season of the show on Showtime last night; Miranda Otto was so remarkable as Russian double-agent Allison Carr, and she (Miranda, not Allison) – who ended up “dead real good,” riddled with bullets in the trunk of the car that was getting her out of Germany – is playing Rebecca Ingram, the former head of the CTU who is apparently now regretting leaving the intelligence agency. It is, according to the Fox Network, one of the leading parts. So I will definitely being turning in to watch, at the very least, the premiere of 24: Legacy.

Mike Gold’s column on River Song, the “remarkably capable, strong and intelligent archaeologist/con artist/warrior-protector with a great sense of humor and about 92% of all the sexuality ever expressed in the 54-year history of the program, she has been, is, and/or will be married to the Doctor” was right on the mark, for my money. Very coincidentally, I just ordered The Diary of River Song before reading Mike’s column, although since I hadn’t read Mike’s column I got the more expensive set on Amazon instead of at Big Finish. I would have cancelled the Amazon order and gone over to Big Finish, but my package has already shipped, to be delivered tomorrow. Oh, well. As Mike said:

“I hope to see River return sometime this season as it is Steven Moffat’s last as writer/showrunner. I hope to see River Song return anywhere at any time, if that latter phrase has any real meaning in a world where time travel exists.

“But, hey, I’ll settle for Alex Kingston returning damn well anywhere.”

Me, too, Mike!

Well, that’s about it for this week, folks. My column, as usual, is running late – unusually so this week, as between my full-time job and my parents’ ill health I haven’t had the time or the “mood” to write. Apologies to my fellow columnists whom I haven’t mentioned, except to say that, in regards to graphic novels and comic shops, Martha Thomases and Ed Catto, I am guilty of buying the collected issues in one volume. And also, Arthur Tebbel, the only movies that I saw on your list of the Worst Movies of 2016 were Batman vs. Superman: Dawn of Justice and Independence Day: Resurgence, and that I couldn’t even get past the first half-hour of the later (which I tried to watch on Netflix) and that the former was a travesty of great proportion, except for, once again, Gal Gadot’s Diana, Princess of Themyscira.

Addendum: By the time of next week’s column, we will have had one full weekend of President Donald J. Trump. Will we all still be here? Will there even be a column? Will America be…Amerika?

Mindy Newell Is Writing This During The Giants / Packers Game

The Crown Season 1

This is going to be a relatively unusual column today as I am frequently stopping to watch the New York Giants/Green Bay Packers wild card game. Right now there are 20 seconds left in the 1st quarter, the G’ints just punted, and Green Bay’s drive will start on the 45 yard line. The Giants should be up by at least one touchdown, but Beckham has dropped two perfect passes in the end zone – commentators Joe Buck and Troy Aikman are speculating that it’s because of the cold weather and although that’s possible, that’s not what I expect from a player of Beckham’s caliber. He made the All-Pro team this year. Anyway, the G’ints are up by a field goal (that’s three points for you non-football fans out there) and Green Bay has yet to put anything on the board.

I will say that New York’s defense in the 1st quarter has been terrific, but it’s a loooong game. Also, as I pointed to out to my daughter, son-in-law, and brother, the Packers have lost two previous play-off games to the Giants and they are as hungry as I would be. Eye of the Tiger, y’know?

Man, it’s hard not to write a running commentary on the game, but this is ComicMix, not NFL SuperPro (to mention the magazine I edited at Marvel in conjunction with NFL Properties), so I will digress from the pigskin.

To be honest, I haven’t ready any new comics that have impressed me enough to talk about – although I do love Adam Hughes’ Betty & Veronica – but I sure have been on the web a lot lately checking out “ComicMix-y” series, along with previews and trailers for what’s “coming soon.”

Constant readers will know that I have watched The Crown on Netflix (the geek connection is Matt Smith as Prince Phillip) and just finished the second season of The Man in the High Castle on Amazon. I’m currently looking forward to The Handmaid’s Tale, based on the 1985 speculative fiction, dystopian novel by the noted Canadian author Margaret Atwood, which will be premiering on Hulu in April. Set in a bleak future in which the United States has been become the theocratic Republic of Gilead, in which women have two functions: Madonna (wife and mother) and whore (the “Handmaids” of the title). While the novel primarily explores the themes of the roles of women in society, it also raises questions about the relationships between men and women, the purpose of class and caste, freedom of speech and thought, and the power of religion to subvert individualism.

The novel won the 1987 Arthur C. Clarke Award, and was nominated for the 1986 Nebula Award and Booker Prize; it was also nominated in 1987 for the Prometheus Award. It has already been adapted as a movie (which starred the late Natasha Richardson, and which, im-not-so-ho, did not do the book justice) and has also been translated to radio, opera, and stage. I’m really looking forward to it’s adaptation as a series so that the book has the chance to “stretch its legs.”

It’s the 2nd quarter, 3:60 left, and the G’ints are up by 6 – two field goals. Green Bay hasn’t yet scored…fuck! Green Bay just scored…and I must admit it was a daring pass by Green Bay quarterback Aaron Rodgers to the successful and talented wide receiver Davante Adams. With the extra point, the Packers are now up by 1 – the score is now 7 – 6.

Much closer – next Saturday (January 15) is the television premiere of the sixth season of Homeland, although Showtime is already streaming the first episode and has made it available on Showtime On Demand. Carrie Mathison (Claire Danes) is in New York City, specifically Brooklyn, disengaged from the CIA, and has started a foundation to help falsely accused Muslims. Saul Berenson (Mandy Pantikin) and Dar Adal (F. Murray Abraham) are back, as is…

SPOILER ALERT!

…Rupert Friend as CIA “black ops” agent Peter Quinn. (To paraphrase Captain Kirk to Spock in The Wrath of Khan: “Isn’t he dead?”)

I check out the premiere of Emerald City (NBC, Fridays at 9 P.M.), which co-stars the indomitable and magnificent Vincent D’Onofrio (Wilson Fisk, a.k.a. the Kingpin, last seen on the whatever screen you use in second season of Netflix’s Daredevil) as the Wizard…

Double fuck!!!!! I missed the play (in fact, I don’t know how the Packers got the ball back because I was writing this), but the Packers have just scored again – and it’s an 8-point Green Bay lead. 14 – 6 going into halftime. What the hell happened to New York’s defense??

Okay. I’m calm. Depressed, but calm. As I was saying, I tried Emerald City, but it just didn’t work for me. It was too slow…or something. Not sure. I didn’t make it to the second half of the two-hour premiere – not actually a pilot, but two episodes run in sequence. But YMMV.

24 will be back, premiering on Fox after the Super Bowl (February 5), but without Jack Bauer (Kiefer Sutherland) and Chloe O’Brian (Mary Lyn Rajskub). Yep, Fox is doing a sequel, officially called 24: Legacy. Corey Hawkins is the “new Jack,” playing ex-Army Ranger and war hero Eric Carter. However, Carlos Bernard as agent-gone-bad Tony Almeida will be back. I don’t know about this one. Keifer and Chloe put such indelible marks on the show; it remains to be seen if lightning can strike twice.

 

Mindy Newell: Happy @#$%&!! 2017

I am in an incredibly shitty mood. My mom had a stroke—well, not technically, but the results are the same and she ain’t doing so good. My dad is a soul trapped in a useless body lying in a nursing home. On top of that wonderfulness, last night I couldn’t get the pizza I wanted because my favorite place closed and my two fallbacks were closed—huh? Isn’t New Year’s Eve one of the busiest nights of the years for pizzerias?—so I ordered one from what seemed to be the only one open and it totally sucked, but I still pigged out on it. Pigging out on something you enjoy is one thing, but pigging out on something that isn’t really that good? Dumb, dumb, dumb. And also, unlike some people who eat when they are upset, I’m one of those who don’t, so why I wasted $10.00 on something I really didn’t want in the first place I can’t answer.

And then there’s the reality that in 19 days a man who is the most incompetent, the most dumbest (and please, no letters on my grammar), a man who is treacherously close to crossing the line to treasonous behavior—just what the hell does Putin have on him?—will become the 45th President of these United States. We are about to go from the classiest to the assiest.

Happy New Year?

I don’t think so.

Im-not-so-ho, we’ll be lucky to get to 2018 with our skins still intact.

In other news, I recently finished watching Season 2 of [[[The Man in the High Castle]]], brought to you courtesy of Philip K. Dick (whose original book was published in 1962), Frank Spotniz (The X-Files), and Amazon Studios. For those not in the know, the premise of both the book and the series is: “What if the Axis powers had won World War II?” Well, that’s a simplification—there’s a lot more in there, particularly concerning not just alternate realities, but the nature of reality itself—but for the purposes of this column, it will do.

What is interesting—and somewhat depressing, as if I needed any more help in sliding down the ladder—is the reaction of some to the series, which, to tie it up with a bow, is: “Who needs a fictional fascist dystopia when the reality is already here?” I get it.   Doing some research for today’s column, I came upon author (The Name of The Rose) and philosopher Umberto Eco’s 1995 essay, “Eternal Fascism,” in which he lists 14 “properties of fascist ideology.” I won’t list all of them—I suggest you look them up, if you have the stomach for it—but there’s enough here to make me shiver:

  • Appeal to a Frustrated Middle Class: Fascism uses the fear of economic pressure from the demands and aspirations of lower social groups. Watch any of his campaign or “victory” rallies.
  • Fear of Difference: Fascism seeks to exploit and exacerbate this…in the form of racism or an appeal against foreigners and immigrants. Muslim registry. A huuuuuge wall on the Mexican border.
  • Selective Populism: Fascists use this concept to delegitimize democratic institutions they accuse of “no longer representing” the Voice of the People. “The media are scum.”
  • Machismo: Fascists hold disdain for women and intolerance and condemnation of nonstandard sexual habits, from chastity to homosexuality. Grabbing some pussy, Trump? Or is she too fat?
  • Contempt for the Weak: Remember when Trump made fun of the reporter who has a physical disability?
  • Newspeak: Fascism employs and promotes an impoverished vocabulary in order to limit critical reasoning. Hello, Twitter, and a 40-character limit.

And here’s an example of some of the tweets that The Man in the High Castle elicited, courtesy of The Huffington Post:

Jack Shafer of Politico on November 21, 2016:

 Emmett Hoops, teacher and linguist, same date:

And my personal favorite, from Indiana University School of Public and Environment Affairs PhD candidate and Brookings Institute alum Dave Warren, on December 22, 2016:

So the way I figure it is, that you should watch TMITHC on Amazon if you love Donald Trump because it will reinforce your faith in the marriage between politics and corporatism, or that you should watch TMITHC on Amazon if you’re scared of Donald Trump because it will reinforce your faith in the…what? The “It Can’t Happen Here” ideology? The “invulnerability” of our Constitution? The “It’s just a really good adaptation of a Philip K. Dick book” reassurance?

Happy fucking 2017.

Mindy Newell: Doctor… Who?

It’s Sunday night, 7:19 P.M. on my clock, which makes the premiere of the 2016 Doctor Who Christmas Special just an hour and 41 minutes away. The long drought is almost over.

I’ve been getting my Whovian fix this week by watching as much as I can of BBCAmerica’s marathon of episodes, which has been running since last Tuesday. It was interesting to watch the progression of Doctors, as it gave me a chance to really compare Eccleston, Tennant, Smith, and Capaldi’s characterizations of the Time Lord.

To be honest, I can’t really say all that much about Christopher Eccleston’s turn – it always seemed a little flat to me, as though the actor rather quickly regretted signing on to the role, and so was doing that – merely playing a role until the contract ran out. (I remind everyone that this is all imho, not, for a change, im-not-so-ho.) However, I do love that lone season because of the supporting characters – Rose Tyler, the shop girl who dares to dream of another life; Rose’s widowed mom Jackie, who drinks and sleeps around just a little too much to forget her own unfulfilled dreams and who is very much one possible template for Rose’s future; and Mickey Smith, Rose’s working-class boyfriend who is oh-so-ordinary.

David Tennant’s Doctor was the one that really caught the world’s attention. Sexy and cocky, he nonetheless truly regained his “humanity” in this incarnation, allowing his feelings to surface, especially in his relationship in Rose (call me a romantic, but I believe that he truly loved her) and with Donna Noble’s grandfather, Wifred Mott.

And then there was Matt Smith. What I think is interesting in Matt’s interpretation is that he was while he was young and joyful and adventurous, he could also very much be dangerous, dark, and duplicitous. (“The Doctor lies,” said River.)

What about John Hurt, you may ask, as the War Doctor? His was the source of the darkness within – but, at the same time, his was also the source of the Time Lord’s humanity. It was etched on his face – the sorrow, self-loathing, but also, the love that drove him to commit the ultimate destructive act.

And what of Paul McGann, the Eighth Doctor? Im-not-so-ho, he was probably the most self-aware of the four, for in his decision to reject the very name of “the Doctor” – a word that means healer and saver of life – and to accept the guise of “the Warrior,” he allowed us to see the resignation to the fate that the Time Lord had been running from all those centuries.

It’s 35 minutes to the Christmas Special. As I told John in my reply to his column yesterday – and also on the phone to editor Mike – I’m feeling “a bit trepidatious” about what’s about to play out. I’m afraid that the suits at the BBC, dismayed at the drop in Doctor Who’s audience after the dashing Matt Smith left and Peter Capaldi took over – as my niece, a rabid Smith fan, said, “He’s old!!!” – told Moffat to write something that would bring back the youngsters, and hey, here’s an idea, let’s include a superhero, superheroes are hot right now. Not only does it seem to me to be a mercenary and crass directive, the mix of genres feels weird and just “not right.” Down on your knees begging, y’know?

Then again, as Mike Gold pointed out to me, Doctor Who has pushed the boundaries before and succeeded. (“The soufflé isn’t the soufflé, the soufflé is the recipe.”)

Oh, yeah, I forgot.

Peter Capaldi. What about him? A scared little boy. A lost soul. A revengeful son-of-a-bitch. A work in progress.

And also…

Love that hair!

Mindy Newell: Yuletide Greetings (With A Case of Writer’s Block)

“Oh my god Oh my god Oh my god Oh my god” • Gaten Matarazzo as Dustin Henderson in Stranger Things, created, written, and directed by the Duffer Brothers

“‘Twas the Monday before Christmas,

“And Hanukah, too,

“And ye olde columnist

“Suggests presents for you.”

Oy. I’m cringing as well. So let’s forget that horrible, incredibly feeble attempt at poetic holiday humor and get on with what this season is really about – debt!

Ah. Strike that, too.

Okay, here’s the truth: I’ve got a serious case of writer’s block, just in time for my deadline.

Fellow writers out there, you know what I’m talking about. It’s sort of like being back in school, and you’re sitting at your desk, and the teacher is passing out the test, and the only thing you do know is that you don’t know shit, and that you’re gonna get a big, fat F, probably circled in red with a “See Me!” written in the teacher’s handwriting at the top of the sheet, and it’s gonna mean detention after school.

Worse, you’re thinking that there’s a strong possibility that you’re gonna fail Algebra and then what? I mean, I get that if a = b and b = c, then a = c, but past that everything just becomes alphabet soup, especially when it’s if a = b and b = c, then what is x?

I was gonna talk about Stranger Things, which I finally watched in a mighty binge explosion last week on my day off, but it’s almost six months after it debuted on Netflix, and six months is a looong time, and what haven’t you heard about it or read about it that I wouldn’t just be repeating? Besides, I’m sure you’ve already seen this story of four boys who are into Dungeons & Dragons and ride Huffys in the woods like in E.T. the Extraterrestrial, a girl in a hospital gown who is a mix of Carrie and the X-Men’s Dark Phoenix and Drew Barrymore in Firestarter with a father – well, maybe he’s not her father, but the girl calls him “Poppa” – who experiments on her on behalf of the government in a monolithic building on the outskirts of the town – it’s called Hawkins, and it’s in Indiana, somewhere outside of Indianapolis – that is surrounded by a chain link fence and signs that say “Keep Out.”

And I’m sure you already know that one of the kids disappears, and that his mother is convinced he’s alive somewhere, even though his body is found and there’s a funeral and everything, and that everybody thinks she’s nuts because she says that he is talking to her through the walls of her house and through the phone, which is sort of like the television in Poltergeist – until the town’s chief cop discovers that her son’s body is fake, and stuffed with cotton filling.

And I’m also sure that you already know that meantime the other three boys and the girl are looking for their vanished friend, and at the same time the girl’s “Poppa” is looking for her, too – with help from men with guns. And that there is this great scene in which the three boys and the girl are riding the bikes right into a barricade set up by “Poppa” and his men with guns and….

Never mind. I don’t want to spoil it for you.

And anyway, I’ve got a serious case of writer’s block.

So the only thing I’m gonna tell you this week is that I wish all of you a merry, merry Christmas, a happy, happy Chanukah, and a joyous, joyous Festivus For The Rest Of Us. And remember…

“Every time a bell rings, an angel gets his [or her] wings.”

 

Mindy Newell: Spam In A Can

john-glenn-presidential-medal-of-freedom

“Anybody who goes up in the damn thing is gonna be Spam in a can.” • Chuck Yeager (Sam Shepard), “The Right Stuff” (1983), Written by Tom Wolfe and Phillip Kaufman based on the book by Tom Wolfe (1979), Directed by Phillip Kaufman

john-glenn-friendship-7Henry Luce: “Now, I want them all to meet my people who will write their true stories. Naturally these stories will appear in Life magazine under their own bylines. For example, “by Betty Grissom,” or “by Virgil I. Grissom,” or…

Gus Grissom: “Gus!”

Henry Luce: “What was that?”

Gus Grissom: “Gus. Nobody calls me by…that other name.”

Henry Luce: “Gus? An astronaut named “Gus?” What’s your middle name?

Gus Grissom: “Ivan.”

Henry Luce: “Ivan…ahem…well. Maybe Gus isn’t so bad, might be something there…All right, all right. You can be “Gus.”Henry R. • Luce (John Dehner), Virgil (Gus) I. Grissom (Fred Ward)“The Right Stuff” (1983)

“Godspeed, John Glenn” • Scott Carpenter, Cmdr, USN, Project Mercury upon the launch of Friendship 7

To warp a phrase, and with apologies to my friend Peter David… But I’m digressing again…

February 20, 1962. 2:30 P.M. It is almost time to be dismissed from my 2nd grade classroom at P.S. 29 (which is still there, at the corner of Slosson Avenue and Victory Boulevard on Staten Island, New York), but no one is looking at the big clock on the wall. Mrs. Krieger – a woman with a softly wrinkled face and gray hair styled in a “1950’s Lois Lane” short, curled pageboy – is leaning against the closets that hold our winter coats and galoshes. We are all watching the television in front of her desk. She has pulled down the window blinds and shut off the lights. Walter Cronkite is talking over the picture of the white Atlas rocket standing in its gantry at Cape Canaveral, steam roiling out from its bottom. At the very “tippy-top” of the giant rocket is a tiny silver-gray fir cone. Inside that little metal capsule – officially the Mercury-Atlas 6, but more famously christened “Friendship 7,” is astronaut John Glenn.

I wonder what it’s like to be him, strapped into a chair, the door bolted shut – “Spam in a can” – as the countdown winds down. What is he thinking? Is he scared? Is he excited? What if something goes wrong? What if the rocket blows up?

10 – 9 – 8 – 7 – 6 – 5 – 4 – 3 – 2 – 1…

2:47 P.M. After over two hours of delays, and almost four hours since he entered Friendship 7, John Glenn is launched into orbit. The class erupts into cheers.

Seventeen years later, with the publication of Tom Wolfe’s The Right Stuff, we learned that Glenn’s mission did not go off without hitches that could have turned a moment of national triumph into national disaster.

A scheduled test to determine whether or not a pilot could fly the capsule manually became more than a test when it was discovered that a failure of the yaw attitude control jet forced Glenn to abandon the automated system and use the manual controls; Glenn flew the second and third orbits, plus re-entry “by the seat of his pants.”

NASA decided that three orbits were enough – instead of the possible seven – when telemetry revealed that the heat shield was loose. Without this heat shield, the astronaut and Friendship 7 would burn up in the atmosphere upon re-entry. It was determined that only the retrorocket pack was holding the heat shield in place. Normally, the retro pack would be jettisoned after re-entry, but Glenn determined to leave it in place to “steady” the heat shield. “It made for a very spectacular re-entry from where I was sitting,” he later said about the big chunks of burning material flying by the capsule’s window in that laconic manner that all pilots seem to have when discussing life-or-death situations; I know this personally from talking with my dad about some of his WW II, uh, adventures. “Fortunately, it was the rocket pack [and not the heat shield falling apart] or I wouldn’t be answering these questions.”

Splashdown occurred in the Atlantic Ocean four hours, 55 minutes and 30 seconds from launch, only 40 miles from the planned landing zone.

John Glenn was a real hero, as were all the men of the Mercury Project, as are all the men and women who have followed in their footsteps, going where no one has gone before.

The Right Stuff, book and movie, is not only the story of the test pilots at Edwards Air Force Base in the high desert of California, and of the men who became the astronauts of Mercury Project, the first manned missions into space, but also of the political machinations behind the “Space Race.”

I also believe that that it qualifies the era as the time in which promotional news and public relations began to dominate not only our political discourses, but also our entire culture; Tom Wolfe himself made the equation that “the astronauts [were like the] single combat warriors from an earlier era who received the honor and adoration of their people before going forth to fight on their behalf.”

Before any of them went up into space, before any of them had even stepped into a mock-up of the capsule, before even a rocket was successfully launched, the seven Mercury astronauts were hailed and wined and dined and given houses and sports cars and money from “sponsors” like Henry R. Luce’s Life magazine in exchange for “exclusive” interviews and peeks into their home life. And the military and government loved it, because the project needed funding. The storm of media trumpets around the Mercury 7 created such a storm of patriotism around them that no Congressman in his right mind would have denied NASA money. As Fred Ward’s Gus Grissom says in the film, “No bucks…no Buck Rogers.”

In the mirror universe of today’s media, the only thing that corporate media trumpeted Donald J. Trump’s bid for the presidency in the search for ratings, i.e., funding, so that few mainstream media outlets, including MSNBC and The New York Times, could not help but to enable Trump’s victory. Indeed, the coverage afforded Trump “free funding,” as every outrageous lie and tweet spawned more and more airtime. His campaign rallies were televised as if he were Jesus returned, delivering second and third Sermons on the Mount. Only his sermons involved making fun of disabled reporters, of disavowing sexual harassment and assault, of denying climate change as a Chinese hoax, and of vowing to “build a wall and making Mexico pay,” to “lock her up,” and to “drain the swamp.” Of “making America great again.”

And the hordes believed and cheered and honored and adored and rewarded him with the Presidency.

With the expected pick of Exxon CEO Rex Tillerson as his nominee for Secretary of State, Trump has completed his scam. And at Forest Lawn Cemetery, a snickering can be heard coming from the gravesite of W. C. Fields: “Never give a sucker an even break.”

In 2016, the American people wanted Project Mercury and the Mercury 7. They wanted America to be great again. They wanted a hero.

What they got was Spam in a can.

Mindy Newell: For The Love Of Spock And Stingrays

forlovespock

“…More importantly, the personal touch provokes some bracing moments that wouldn’t have been possible otherwise. It’s one thing to have Neil DeGrasse Tyson or various NASA technicians talk about how they were inspired by Spock – or even to have Trek-loving actors like Jim Parsons and Jason Alexander say that they sympathize with stories of Nimoy staying mostly in character when his show wasn’t shooting. But only Adam Nimoy could comment knowledgeably about what it was like to have a drunken argument with Leonard Nimoy and then walk out into a world where images of Mr. Spock were impossible to avoid. The best scenes in For The Love Of Spock are the most conventional, featuring famous folk praising a pop culture legend. But the scenes that most linger in the mind are more like the one where the director confesses his complicated feelings about his father to another Spock, Zachary Quinto. It’s moving to know that even Nimoy’s son is as in thrall to an icon as the rest of us.” – Noel Murray, AV Club.com

“Leonard Nimoy was an artist who defined a timeless character.” – Andy Webster, New York Times

“The 1963 Corvette received a major restyling, new mechanics and a new name: ‘Stingray.’ Zora Arkus-Duntov convinced the brass at GM to include independent rear suspension on the ’63 because he convinced them he could sell 30,000 cars if they had it. The passenger compartment was still kept far to the rear of the car to allow the engine/transmission to sit behind the centerline of the front wheels. This allowed for a better weight ratio (47/53) that improved handling. The ’63 Corvette included new twin headlights that are hidden behind an electrically operated cover. This added to the aerodynamics of the car when the headlights were not in use. The fastback coupe was also new; it included a fixed roof with a large back window that was split down the center with a body-colored bar. (This bar was very controversial and was removed in 1964, making the ’63 very unique.) The car now had recessed non-functional hood lovers. Front fender louvers and ribbed rocker panels replaced the coves on the earlier models. The coupe also has lovers at the back of the side windows. The dash has circular gauges with black faces and the earlier models have storage space under the seats. Air conditioning, power brakes, and power-assisted steering were now available options.• Total 1963 Corvette Stingrays Built: 21,513 • Convertibles: 10, 919 • Coupes: 10, 594” – www.vettefacts.com

So, whass up, people? Sorry I wasn’t here last week, but a big thanks to Editor Mike (Gold) for the very funny piece he posted in my absence. Only laugh I had about Thanksgiving this year – nope, Turkey Day was not fun.

And what did I do the rest of the weekend, besides recover from my intestinal woes? Which really didn’t end until Monday morning, when I woke up “bright-eyed and busy-tailed” and really bummed out over what could have been a great four-day holiday from work?

Well, for one thing, I watched For the Love of Spock on Amazon Prime. A documentary originally intended to celebrate the much beloved Vulcan as part of Star Trek’s 50th anniversary celebration, Adam Nimoy – son of Leonard, originator of the idea, and director of many acclaimed television shows including Star Trek: The Next Generation, Ally McBeal, Gilmore Girls, and NYPD Blue – expanded the project into a love sonnet to his father and his long, successful careers as an actor, and later, a photographer. In order to do both the film and his father justice, Adam sought crowdfunding in June 2015 in order to raise enough money to meet the licensing fees needed to use clips, stills, and archival footage from Paramount Pictures and CBS. The month-long campaign on Kickstarter grabbed attention, and by the end of the month (June 2015), Adam had raised $662,640 from 9,439 lovers of Spock and Leonard from around the world.

Was it worth it? Are you kidding? Im-not-so-ho, it’s worth every cent. It’s just a totally wonderful movie, with interviews from William Shatner, Nichelle Nichols, Simon Pegg, J.J. Abrams, Neil deGrasse Tyson, Chris Pine, Zachary Quinto, Zoe Saldana, and many others, including Leonard’s brother, sister-in-law, his daughter and grandchildren. Adam himself pulls no punches, talking about the raucous and rough relationship he had with his father until, in adulthood, the two men found their way back to family and love. (Adam directed his father in the remake of the classic episode, I, Robot on the revived Outer Limits, which ran from 1995 to 2002 on Showtime, SyFy – God, how I hate that spelling! – and in syndication.)

Seriously, people, devote a little more than an hour and watch this!

Hmm, what else?

corvette-mustangI read Mike Gold’s column about Patton Oswalt with interest, being a fan of The Goldbergs (Wednesday, ABC) and knowing that Mr. Oswalt narrates the show, playing the writer and creator Adam Goldberg as he tells the story of his family. I then clicked on the link within Mike’s column to take me to Jerry Seinfeld’s Comedians in Cars Getting Coffee and Jerry’s cup of joe with Patton – and you’re right, Mike, Mr. Oswalt’s Death of Superman is an absolutely fabulous idea!!! So much better than Doomsday – though after rewatching that monstrosity on HBO last week, part of my face-in-the-toilet Thanksgiving weekend (as if I wasn’t suffering enough) I do have to say that the best part of the movie, the only part that got me hooked and made me forget my woes were those last minutes as Wonder Woman fought the creature. Oh, right, Superman and Batman were there, too.

Anyway, then I started browsing CICGC, ‘cause I haven’t been on the site for a while, and watched Jerry have coffee with Barak Obama at the White House. Jerry calls him “the coolest President ever!,” and you know what? Just to see Barak behind the wheel of Jerry’s 1963 Corvette Stingray – the coolest car ever!!! – well, “I’m hip, bro.”

Can you even imagine President – God, how I shiver as I type this – Donald J. Trump behind the wheel of the coolest car ever!!!

Yeah, I can’t either.

 

Mindy Newell: What Turkey?

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Mindy isn’t here this week. Well, she’s not here but she is still there. She’s having one of those annoyingly inconvenient gastro-intestinal “issues” that dogs and cats think of as recycling. And, poor child, it wasn’t even the result of Thanksgiving overeating – it hit her right before the Thanksgiving meal. She tried to actually consume some left-overs yesterday, but her gullet promptly informed her that was a very bad idea.

We’ll bet she is not alone in this particular difficulty. Thanksgiving should also be thought of as giving thanks for being able to digest all that food with your family. Or even without.

Then again, Mindy’s reaction could be the result of the election.

We here at ComicMix wish our friend and comrade a swift, complete and non-messy recovery.

Mindy Newell: Post-Election Blues Redux

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First they came for the Socialists, and I did not speak out –
Because I was not a Socialist.

Then they came for the Trade Unionists, and I did not speak out –
Because I was not a Trade Unionist.

Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out –
Because I was not a Jew.

Then they came for me – and there was no one left to speak for me.

• Pastor Martin Niemoller, 1892 – 1984

“All that is necessary for evil to triumph is that good men do nothing.”

• Attributed to Edmund Burke, 1729 – 1797

I am sorry if I am boring you, but simply talking about what series I am binging on now (Luke Cage) and how much I am digging it has been expunged by John Ostrander’s column yesterday.

I didn’t know that Humberto Ramos and George Pérez have decided not to attend any conventions held in any state that went “red” and voted for Trump until I read John’s piece, and I immediately clinked on the links to both men’s statements.

I am immensely impressed by their willingness to speak out and not to be one of those good men who do nothing.

I am immensely pissed off about the horrible vitriol flung against Mr. Ramos, whom I don’t know, and George, whom of course I certainly do. It’s really disgusting, especially the barbs slung at George – go ahead, read them, just scroll down to the comments section on the Newsarama page – and I can’t help wondering just what the comments would be if either man’s last name was “Smith” or “Jones” instead of Hispanic origin. Of course, as John said, it is the Internet, after all…

…But I also must point out that we now have a President-Elect who uses Twitter to insult and rant and threaten litigation against anyone he conceives to be against him; an about-to-be White House Chief Strategist (Steve Bannon) whose Breitbart News website is a haven for white supremacists and whose divorce filing included this statement from his wife about their kids’ education: “…the biggest problem he had…is the number of Jews that attend. He said that he doesn’t like Jews and that he doesn’t like the way they raise their kids to be ‘whiny brats’ and that he didn’t want the girls going to school with Jews;” an about-to-be National Security Advisor (retired Lt. General Michael Flynn) who joined the crowds at Trump campaigns in shouting “Lock her up” about Mrs. Clinton and who tweeted “Fear of Muslims is rational;” and a nominated Attorney General (Senator Jeff Sessions of Alabama) who has called the Voting Rights Act of 1965 “an intrusive piece of legislature,” who endorses a ban on Muslim immigration, and, oh, by the way, was rejected by a Republican-controlled Senate for a federal judge seat after being nominated by President Reagan in 1986 because of his racism.

Bottom line: I am proud of Mr. Ramos and of George. They not only speak truth to power, but they have acted upon it.

As for me, I will do what I have always done – speak up when and where it is necessary, post on Facebook, and write this column. I will try not to bore you by turning this into a weekly anti-Trump diatribe, but please don’t expect me to apologize, either, if my thoughts about the pop culture world are interrupted by a frightening shadow that is about to become a reality on Friday, January 20, 2017.

 

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