There’s this little dog, see. Lives with a family in a big house surrounded by acres of grass. Cutest little dog you ever saw: white, bright-eyed, tail always wagging, friendly as anything. But nobody knew what kind of dog he was. Didn’t seem to be important, but still… nobody knew. Then, one day, the family hosted a musical event and one of the guests forgot to pack his instrument. Left it laying on the couch. Well, the dog padded over to it, put the end of it in his mouth, blew and… what the heck do you know! The dog was making music and not just any music – great music. And finally, the family knew what kind of dog they had.
It was, of course, a Trump pet.
If you say that what I just perpetrated was inexcusable, rather than go through the tedium of a trial I’ll just plead guilty. (Actually, I’ll nod guilty. I’m alone in this room with nobody to plead to.)
Unless it was a snogglefritz. A snogglefritz, for those of you who attended the same schools as I did, must be perpetrated by someone with an IQ so high it cannot be measured. But we’re not talking just ant IQ here, this kind of IQ can never be detected. By anyone. Ever. Its proprietor doesn’t seem any brighter than the next guy. In fact, maybe a bit dimmer. He displays no talent. No wit. No special abilities of any kind. For him, the sound of chewing is conversation. He has no idea that massive intelligence lurks in his cranium.
This massive intelligence – hereafter MI – knows a secret. He knows of a… call it an entity because what else can you call it? The secret can be expressed in a single English sentence and once the secret is known, all the world’s questions will be answered. Every single one of them, from how to park in midtown Manhattan to what constitutes the unified field theory. Psoriasis – gone! Commercials – gone! Global warning- gone! Robocalls – gone. Every blamed thing that has ever annoyed anyone, or could ever annoy anyone – pfffft. Like it never existed.
The MI encodes the secret and hides the encoded secret in an ordinary sentence which the host will speak somewhere, sometime, with no awareness that he has also, simultaneously uttered a secret. This encoded secret is the snogglefritz. If someone detects and decodes the snogglefritz, that individual will have what is needed to salve mankind’s woes without even a single election. If the snogglefritz remains undetected?
Too bad, I guess. Check today’s headlines.
I don’t know what to do with this information, but maybe there’s a religion in there somewhere…
I’m not entirely sure what I can ask of Ridley Scott at this point. He’s made four or five honest-to-goodness classics and inspired an entire generation of science-fiction films. He doesn’t owe me anything and I’ll watch just about anything he puts out because I have that kind of faith in him as a filmmaker. He’s made a scary film with Alien: Covenant, but not one that I find particularly interesting. Scott seems obsessed with giving me lore I don’t want instead of a higher concentration of scenes with scary aliens.
It’s impressive that they made the grossest Alien movie yet. The one with the most visceral body horror. They topped the terribleness of the chestburster in this one by making the alien birth process less discrete and more, for lack of a better word, fluid-y. I don’t think it’s particularly worthwhile to discuss the particulars of the plot further. There are scary aliens, some you’ll recognize and some you won’t, that chase a bunch of humans you never quite care about around a distant planet that is suspiciously earth-like. This suspicion is both in the film and in the audience because it sure is cheaper to film in a planet that happens to be covered with plants from earth. There are other things to be scared of, it isn’t important really as long as you find something in each scene potentially terrifying. It definitely works as a horror movie; it will never be mistaken for a better Ridley Scott film.
Alien: Covenant is a movie carried by Michael Fassbender. Playing a robot that struggles with showing emotion seems like a big challenge as an actor, and playing two that each have different motivations and different ways of hinting at their true intentions is just an incredible performance. This prequel franchise is going to succeed or fail based on the audience willing to come and see more Alien-based horror, but artistically they’re inescapably linked to Fassbender at this point. I wouldn’t go see the next one (and there shouldn’t be a next one but we’ll get there) without him. He’s almost bigger than the Aliens at this point, even if I would kick him to the curb in a heartbeat for more Ripley.
The flaw in this movie is that I could not possibly care less about the origins of the Xenomoprhs. I didn’t watch any other Alien movie thinking “if only we knew where these things came from” or anything like that. Any explanation is going to make them less scary. A bump in the dark is more scary than anything you could show on camera. I won’t tell you the origins of the Xenomorphs, that would be cruel, but it’s not as good as whatever you had in your head, or even the non-explanation of “they’re just some terrifying aliens, those exist” that I had always assumed was the truth. This is a movie answering a question I never asked and don’t care about what they have to tell me.
I wish I knew why they thought Alien prequels were more interesting than Alien sequels. That what we want from a science-fiction horror franchise is less fantastical technology and more exposition. I wonder if the whole Alien braintrust learned the wrong lesson from Resurrection and have decided they can’t move further in to the future. I would rather watch an Alien without Weyland or synthetics or any of that rather than have more needless exposition shoveled on me. That’s not what they’re making though so I have to make do with what we have— a legitimately scary movie with one tour de force performance and a fair amount of useless prattle. Better than all the bad movies we’ll see this year full of useless prattle, I suppose.
Never Land will always be / The home of youth and joy / And liberty
I’ll never grow up, never grow up, never grow up
Not me! Not me! No sir! Not me!
I just returned from a family reunion, and it was just about the only type I’d go to. It was a reunion of the various staff members of the Chicago Seed, the high-circulation “underground” newspaper published between and 1974.
This gathering of geriatric hippie revolutionary writers and artists was prompted by the recent deaths of two Seedlings: Snappy Skippy Williamson and Jayze Jay Lynch . I discussed the passing of my two long-time friends in this space; click on the above links if you missed those columns or if you have the desire to commit my words to memory.
Joining the Seed staff in January 1969 was the single most important step I have taken in my life, short of marrying Linda. I was 18 years old, a political organizer, a professional writer (thanks to those $5.00 checks from the SkokieNews), a counter-cultural warrior and a kid tired of being pushed around by the jocks and the holy-holies. Within a few months, I was recruited to join the staff of the Conspiracy Trial. By the end of the year I was on radio as well. I did a whole lot of travelling and speechifying and fundraising for the Conspiracy Trial, all the while continuing to write for the Seed, as well as for New York’s East Village Other, the Los Angeles Free Press, the Berkeley Barb and, later, the Berkeley Tribe, the New York Rat (awesome name, edited by the gifted Jeff Shero), Liberation News Service, and the Black Panther Party newspaper.
Yes, you read that last part right. In 1970 it was easier for a white hippie boy to write for the Black Panther Party than, say, a black person to write for the hallowed-but-hypocritical Village Voice at that same time. If all you know about the Black Panther Party is what our popular media reported back then – largely quotes from the professional liars at J. Edgar Hoover’s F.B.I. – then you don’t know shit about the BPP back then. But I digress.
I was fortunate enough to work under the tutelage of Abe Peck, the finest editor I’ve ever had. He went on to work for Rolling Stone, The Chicago Daily News and The Chicago Sun-Times before becoming a full professor at Northwestern University’s Medill School of Journalism.
I would have attended this reunion if Abe had been the only person there.
Like many such publications, The Seed was a combination of left-wing politics (as defined at the time) and the then-burgeoning youth culture. I covered both sides, as did most of my cohorts. Under the tutelage of editor Abe and, later, Marshall Rosenthal, I became a better writer. I also learned layout and design and I learned how to edit comics though my work with Skip and Jay and others.
Almost 50 years later, I look back at those seminal days with fondness and pride. But, as fate will have it, I doubt I’d seen most of those folks in the past, oh, 40 years or so. Walking in the Atlantic Bar’s party room was a bit of a challenge: all of us were five decades older, and most of us kinda look it. We had name tags, but our eyesight was no longer strong enough to make identification easy in the darkened bar. Many were retired or semi-retired. Most of us had kids, many had grandkids. Of course, Jay and Skip weren’t the only ones too deceased to make it to the party, and that’s sad. Some of us had seen others of us at sundry memorials, but in the aggregate the roll call for the dead was excruciating. That’s part of growing up.
But… That’s the one thing most all of us still had in common. Not just our politics and our many, many shared experiences, good and bad, but the fact that hardly any of us grew up completely. It was clear that we maintain the strong and important values we held back in the Sixties, tempered somewhat by experience.
Otherwise, we are still Peter Pan, flying through the skies with pen – well, laptop computer – at the ready, trying to help make the world a better place. We continue to grabble with the concept of “fairness,” which is something kids bitch about as they realize the world is not fair and something adults tell kids is just the way it is.
It is not. The adults are wrong. We Peter Pans know better. We know what should be and we have a good idea of how to get there. If you think that’s a foolish or unnecessary journey, wait a few months and ask any of the 24 million people who no longer have health insurance. Ask any of the women and men who had been dependent upon Planned Parenthood for significant portions of their health care. Ask any native-born American with a Muslim or Hispanic heritage.
We need more Peter Pans.
ComicMix readers should get this. We all want to fly.
This past weekend was the inaugural Five Points Festival at Pier 36 here in Manhattan. It’s a brand new fan convention organized by Clutter and Midtown Comics. The festival focused on comics and toys on the Saturday and Sunday, with the Designer Toy Awards Friday night, which is run by Clutter. I went with ComicMix’s own Molly Jackson, and we both ended up enjoying the show.
In honor of this being the Five Points Festival, here are my five points about the show.
Great comics guests for a first time show! Midtown Comics really stepped up to bring in a few out of towners like Bryan Lee O’Malley and James Tynion IV, local or pseudo local heavy hitters that don’t appear here too often like Greg Capullo and Sean Gordon Murphy, industry legends that go back to the dawn of the Bronze Age of comics like Joe Staton who I just chatted with here at ComicMix a couple of ago, and indie comics people like Tee Franklin, a champion of diversity. Fans of Midtown Comics who have been to a lot of their signings over the years would be familiar with many of the names, but they went above and beyond to bring in a great line up for a first year show.
The toys. Molly is far more toy literate than me, but walking around the convention with her was like getting a 101 class in toys. Everything from Funko Pops for about $10 to one of a kind designer toys worth several hundred dollars were on display. They had toy sculptors at tables doing signings and incredibly designed and carefully detailed figures with lines just waiting to see them. It made me wish I was a bit more into toys, but then I remembered I don’t have that much room at home to put them anyway.
The food trucks. They had a nice fenced off area you could access after getting into Pier 36 with a good half a dozen food trucks. The first day we were there we went with some amazing BBQ sandwiches and the second day we had Phil’s Steaks. Molly’s order got delayed at Phil’s Steaks and they upgraded her sandwich and gave her a free order of fries. Couldn’t have asked for better service. Molly and I agreed that they could have used more tables and chairs outside for all the hungry con goers. Hopefully next year.
No panels. Okay, I know some people don’t care about panels and would rather just walk the show floor. I get that, and I’ve done that at my fair share of shows as well. I also get that the venue maybe wasn’t equipped for room big enough and quiet enough to hold panels. They are one of my favorite things to go to at a convention though, and with all the big names in comics and toys that were available it really would have been great to see a few panels. Nothing crazy. Maybe like how MoCCA Fest does it where they just have two panel rooms and a few panels in each room a day. I bitch and moan about conventions that have panels off site, but maybe next year having some panels taking place down the road from the venue would be a good idea. It almost feels like a waste to have Nick Spencer, Scott Snyder, Bryan Lee O’Malley and all these big names and to not get to see them talk about their latest projects. On the plus side, we didn’t have to endure panel audience questions in which people talk about themselves for minutes on end then don’t end up really asking a question. Maybe Molly and I should have a panel about panel questions one day. I don’t know if we’ll take any questions though.
The venue. Pier 36, while possibly not being able to hold panels in it, was a perfectly sized venue for this convention. The con felt well attended without it becoming impossible to move in the venue, you could hear everyone, easily accessible bathrooms without long waits, perfect temperature inside (for me at least), a separate area reserved as a lounge for guests, and a charging station for exhibitors. It really was a nice set up in many ways. A fancy press lounge would have been nice, but as I was there with a Press Pass I’m a bit biased about that. The venue only suffers in that it’s a bit out of the way for most people. The only train close to it is the F and it’s about a ten minute walk from there. And because the F was a bit of a mess this past weekend it took some people a while to get there. I know that’s outside of the control of the convention, but if it is at Pier 36 again next year make sure to give yourself a little extra travel time.
Overall, I really enjoyed Five Points Festival. It was a good show in it’s own right, many of the comic guests and other vendors seemed to do well with sales, and this show fills a void left after ReedPOP stopped doing Special Edition NYC which was a fun show that I miss and was in some ways more fun than NYCC.
Anyway, I haven’t watched the new Twin Peaks yet, so I have to get going. No spoilers please!
“Be careful of mankind, Diana. They do not deserve you.” —Queen Hippolyta
Will the Amazonian be the woman who finally breaks the Hollywood glass ceiling?
Wonder Woman, starring Israeli actress Gal Gadot as Princess Diana of Themiscrya, premieres on June 2, just 12 days away, and the fate of all the superwomen and their eponymous movies who would follow her lies in the ability of her sword-wielding, shield-bearing, gold lassoing hands and her armor-plated breast to vanquish the biggest and baddest super-villain of them all: Box Office.
I’ve watched every trailer and clip that Warner Bros. has released, and though they were all great, the very best of all of them, im-not-so-ho, was Batman vs. Superman: Dawn of Justice. Every time Ms. Gadot showed up, whether it was in her guise as Diana Prince or as Wonder Woman, the movie morphed from an overbearing, weighted down slog through mud into a wonderama gliding with the agility and talent of an Olympian figure skater. Her Diana Prince was a woman of intriguing mystery and integrity, and her Amazon alter-ego was a wonder of heroic strength and bravery. She is possessed with incredible beauty and stature, the natural grace of a gazelle, and quiet yet undeniable assurance. The camera loved her; so did I, and I walked out of the theater knowing that Ms. Gadot is a worthy inheritor to the role that made Lynda Carter a star and icon for girls and young women coming of age during the 1970’s.
I know that I have previously said that I thought placing the movie during WW I might be a mistake. But after watching (again) all the Wonder Woman clips and previews and that bit from BvS—in which Bruce Wayne discovers the picture of a “meta-human” captioned “Belgium, November, 1918” and starts putting “1 + 1”—I have what I think is a pretty good idea as to why the movie is set when it’s set. (Of course, I will have to wait to see if I’m right…and I’ll let you know if I was, okay?)
Meantime, the Twitter universe has lit up with early reviews, released on Thursday, May 18; here are some examples:
Indiewire’s Kate Eerbland:
WONDER WOMAN: Easily my favorite DCEU film. Has the humor and heart the franchise so desperately needs. Gadot and Pine are charming as hell.
Every tweet I read reflected what I felt and saw on the screen in BvS. Gal Gadot is to Wonder Woman what Christopher Reeve was to Superman. And it may just be that the answer to the question posed up above will be a resounding yes.
Only the gods and goddesses know.
We all have mothers. I had a mother of a cold last week, and since Sunday was Mom’s day, I thought I would take a moment to honor all those women who have taken on the absolutely hardest job in the multi-verse, even though it’s 24 hours late.
I think the best known mother in the four-color universe is the farmer’s wife from Smallville who, with her husband, found and raised the “strange visitor from another planet” who would grow up to become the one and only Superman. Although I’ve always known that farmer’s wife as Martha Clark Kent, her name varied for quite a while; she was known as Mary Kent in Superman #1 (1939), but in George F. Lowther’s 1942 novel, The Adventures of Superman, and on the radio program for which Mr. Lowther was a writer, Mrs. Kent’s first name was Sarah, which also followed her to the George Reeves television series of the same name. (The Adventures of Superman, Episode 1, “Superman on Earth,” written by Richard Fielding) Jerry Siegel and Joe Shuster finally settled on “Martha” sometime in the 1950’s, and since then, every variation of Superman’s mom on the page and on television and in the movies has been known by that name.
Several actresses have played Ma Kent on the big and small screens. Virginia Carroll was the first to play her in the 1948 movie serial that starred Kirk Alyn as the Man of Steel, in which her name was Martha. Francis Morris played Sarah Kent in the aforementioned The Adventures of Superman. Phyllis Thaxter was the perfect Martha to Chris Reeve’s Superman in the one and only Richard Donner film—and if you haven’t seen Donner’s version of Superman II, get on it, guys!!!!! The venerable actress Eva Marie Saint played her in Superman Returns, and Diane Lane is the most recent Martha, doing an admirable job in Man of Steel, Batman Vs. Superman: Dawn of Justice, and is about to return as Martha Kent in Justice League.
Television Marthas have been portrayed as younger and hipper. K Callan’s version, in Lois and Clark: The New Adventures, was a sixties-something woman whom you could easily imagine having burned her bra and marched with Gloria Steinem, Shirley Chisholm, Bella Abzug, and other women during the social upheaval of the ‘60’s. And I have a special fondness for Annette O’Toole, who played Martha on Smallville for the show’s entire run. (This was Ms. O’Toole’s second time around in the DC universe; she played Lana Lang in Superman III,) I think her Martha was innately every bit a feminist as K Callan’s, but, im-not-so-ho, I don’t think she ever needed her consciousness “raised”—she just instinctively understood that she was as equal and capable as her husband and any other man, and her choice to be a “stay-at-home” mom was just that—her choice. In later seasons, Senator Martha Kent went to Washington, representing the state of Kansas, although her political party was never stated; my own political leanings make her a Democrat, although in reality I think she would most likely be what in today’s political climate is called a RINO, which is pronounced like the animal and stands for Republican In Name Only—a pejorative for someone who is not considered conservative enough in their beliefs.
I also want to take some space here to give a shout-out to two very important moms in my life: Loretta Yontef Newell, my mom, and her granddaughter (and my daughter), Alixandra.
I haven’t all that often talked about my mom here—I’m really not sure why. She and my late dad were married for 69 years—they almost made it to 70 years, as their anniversary is coming up this June—and I know she was the linchpin for their relationship, for my dad adored her. I remember when we celebrated their 60th year of marriage; I said, “y’know, I gotta tell ya, there were times I was sure you two were headed towards divorce.” My father scoffed and said, “You’re nuts!,”; my mother wouldn’t even deign to answer.
She was a woman who was “feminist” in the same way that Annette O’Toole’s Martha was—raised to be able to stand on her own two feet in a time when most women were raised to become wives only, she first worked as a telephone operator before entering the U.S. Army Nurse Cadet Corps during WW II, and was stationed in Washington, D.C. as the war drew to a close. After the war she worked as a Labor and Delivery nurse at the Brooklyn Jewish Hospital—she commuted every day from Bayonne, taking bus, ferry, and subways!—where, she told me, she and her friends, after a long night delivering babies, went to the Paramount Theatre in Brooklyn to see a certain young singer from Hoboken whose first name was Frank and whose last name was Sinatra. (I could never get her to admit to being one of the “bobby-soxers” who screamed his name earlier in the decade.) She was also a school nurse, a medical-surgical nurse, one of the very first nurses to work with dialysis patients back in the day when the dialysis machines looked like giant rotors with a netting strung across their innards, and worked for the U.S. Public Health Service at a hospital on Staten Island, where one of her jobs was to ride a jetty out to the ships moored in Lower New York Harbor and give physicals to the merchant marine crewmen, clearing them for entrance into the States. She was a school nurse, a sleep-away camp nurse, and an ER nurse. And she did all this while being an involved wife and mother. My dad was always proud of his wife being a professional woman; and she was, for the longest time, the only one of their circle of friends who worked “outside the home.”
She made time for the kids (me and my brother), too. She encouraged us to read—leading her own two plus their reprobate friends to the public library—and took us into New York City to Broadway shows and museums. I think our elementary school teachers were afraid of her, because if she thought one of us had been treated unfairly, she didn’t sit on her hands.
When I was in second grade I went to my school’s library and wanted to take out “The Black Stallion,” by Walter Farley. The librarian would not allow it, saying that it was a book for the older grades. When my mother heard about this, she went up to the school and demanded that I be allowed to read whatever I wanted to read. Of course, I wasn’t present for this showdown, but I can only imagine what my mom said, because from then on I never had a problem.
Another time, I think I was in third grade, the class was assigned to read a biography and then write a book report about the subject. My mom took me to the public library, and I chose the story of Y.A. Tittle, the N.Y. Giants quarterback. When I handed in my report, the teacher gave it back to me, saying, “Little girls do not read biographies about football players.” Up went my mother, back to P.S. 29. Again, I don’t know what she said to the teacher, but I got an A+ on that book report—I’ve always wondered whether it was because it was an early example of my writing ability or because, simply put, the teacher was scared shit of my mother.
My mother never told me what she said, and now it is too late—right before my dad died, maybe two weeks prior, my mom had a stroke, and though she is not physically disabled, her cognitive abilities are, to put it sadly and simply, pretty much shot to hell. She now lives in the same nursing home, and on the same floor, where my father spent the last years of his life. Sometimes she is more “cognitive” than at other times—sometimes when I speak to her on the phone, she is almost my mother; and other times, most times, she simply cries and says she wants to go “home.”
The other mom I want to talk about is my daughter, Alixandra. She and her wonderful husband Jeffrey, my son-in-law the Doctor—he is a PhD. and a professor at Montclair State University in New Jersey—have a son, named after both grandfathers: Meyer Manuel. He is loving and beautiful and the light of my life. He is also autistic.
When Meyer was definitively diagnosed at 18 months—the earliest age at which autism can be, well, definitively diagnosed—Alix was working full-time and applying for a second Master’s program in Public Health and Policy at New York University. She didn’t quit her job; she didn’t quit her educational plans, only delayed her entry into the program for a semester; she started researching autism and the education of autistic children, and found Meyer the best school in her area, Caldwell University, enrolling her son in the Applied Behavior Analysis program there. It was incredibly expensive, and when the insurance company lagged in its responsibilities, she fought them. She has never, ever ceased fighting for her child, has never ceased to put him first; they sold their beloved first home and moved to a town with better, and more progressive, educational policies towards special needs kids, choosing to rent and investing the monies from the sale of their home in Meyer’s future. And meanwhile, she did go back to school for that second Masters and continues to work full-time, commuting to New York City and always bringing work home with her.
Eaglemoss, a UK based fan-facing company, is best known for creating detailed replicas of Batmobiles, miniature starships from various incarnations of Star Trek and figurines from the mythologies of Marvel, DC Comics and the Walking Dead. They are all of high quality and lovingly rendered.
Each figure or vehicle they sell comes with a booklet developed by experts in each fan-focused field. So when you buy the miniature replica of the Flying Batcave (if you don’t know what this is you really need to find out fast!) you’ll also get a thorough, yet concise, history of the Flying Batcave.
Given the premium quality of these booklets, it makes sense that Eaglemoss would also be a mindful and creative publisher.
Their new Star Trek Graphic Novel Collection is premium quality in spades. Produced with IDW, this is the type of project (I almost typed the word ‘enterprise’ instead of ‘project’) that both long-time fans and casual collectors will respect and enjoy. Its a regularly published collection of hardcover Star Trek comics. But there’s an interesting wrinkle to it all.
Eaglemoss encourages fans to order the first volume at a discounted price: $4.95. Then fans can sign up for an ongoing program, as each month two more volumes are sent to their home. It costs about twenty bucks each month. (The monthly fee is $14.95 and shipping is $2.45 for each book.) If fans continue in the program, they will receive special gifts. But they make it easy so that fans can cancel at anytime.
It’s nice to get our reading delivered on a monthly schedule. Longtime comic fans understand the gleeful attraction of episodic storytelling. Modern fans might prefer reading trade paperback collections and binge watching entire seasons of TV shows. They may be less inclined to enjoy twice-a-month reading engagements. But It is interesting to note that there is a whole new type of fan who’s enjoying regular, episodic fiction. In fact, The New York Times ran a story on this very topic last week.
These are the voyages…
Each Eagelmoss hardcover showcases one long story from assembles several issues of various Star Trek comic incarnations. The first volumes seem to hop and skip amongst the many different Star Trek series; a little original series here, a little TNG there.
Of course, the success of each volume hinges on the stories chosen. IDW and Eaglemoss seem to be choosing wisely, selecting innovative stories by strong creators with good tales to tell.
For a fussy fan like me, it’s really important that the art is up to snuff. I have high standards for comic art. On a licensed property like Star Trek where the likenesses must be spot-on, it’s especially important.
Each volume is a hardcover book with glossy pages and meaty introductions. There’s a heft and an importance to it all.
Star Trek has been published by many comic publishers over the years. For this graphic novel reprint series, Eaglemoss is launching the series by showcasing IDW comics. In the near future, I’m really looking forward enjoying some early DC stories in this slick format. I’m also looking forward like to those Captain Pike adventures from Marvel’s “Paramount Comics” imprint. I missed them the first time around.
Comic on the Edge of Forever
The second Eaglemoss volume reprints IDW’s recent City on The Edge of Forever mini-series. It was a fantastic story that could only be told in Star Trek comics.
As you may know, one of the best-loved episodes of the original Star Trek series was Harlan Ellison’s City on the Edge of Forever. But the televised version differed significantly from the teleplay that Ellison originally wrote. For almost 50 years, fans wondered “What if the television episode had been filmed as Ellison originally conceived it?”
The IDW team decided to do just that. They created a Star Trek series based on the original screenplay. The painted artwork by JK Woodward captured the actors’ 1960s likenesses with an urgent dynamism.
“Doing Harlan’s original City on the Edgeof Forever teleplay as a comic will forever be a highlight of anything I do in comics,” said IDW’s Chris Ryall, CCO and Editor-in-Chief. “Seeing Harlan get choked up, finally seeing his story come to visual life as he intended only made it sweeter, but this was one of those special projects, where all the talent involved, from Harlan on down to Scott and David Tipton adapting it and JK Woodward doing the best work of his career on those painted pages… all of that just made this something far beyond a typical licensed comic. I’m thrilled with the events that led up to this finally being able to happen after a half-century of it not even being a remote possibility and I’m even more happy with the finished book.”
The Just Dessert
At the end of each volume is a reprint from sixties Gold Key comics. They are essentially a back-up story, and each one brings so much to the party. It is kind of like when you’re in a restaurant devouring a dessert that you didn’t plan on ordering, but are so glad you did.
Starting in 1967, Gold Key was the first comics publisher to create Star Trek comics. It was so early on in the process, that it’s clear that they didn’t do their homework. They really weren’t familiar with the Star Trek TV show. Legend has it that when it all started, the writer and artist had not even watched a single episode. They based the comics on reference sheets supplied by the network.
But you know what? Each story is a joy to behold.
Dick Wood was the writer. He worked on so many comics over the years, from the Plastic Man to the golden age Daredevil to The Man From U.N.C.L.E. Today, he is often remembered for his “unique” interjections, and he doesn’t disappoint in these Star Trek stories. In these adventures, you’ll find the Enterprise crew exclaiming:
Howling Asteroids!
Suffering Solar Showers!
Great Novas! (which is often stuttered as “Gr-Great Novas!”)
Was he purposefully trying to make list of “Things Star Trek characters would never really say”? We may never know the truth.
The vintage reprints also reinforce one important idea: Star Trek was very different from anything else on TV at that time. One can presume that Gold Key management said, “Oh, another one of those rocket ship shows. All we need is few laser guns, a space monster and we’re off the races.” It’s fascinating to see how these stories presume what they thought Star Trek would be in contrast to what it became.
These daft tales offer no continuity or consistency. On the other hand, each story can be enjoyed all on its own. For hardcore Star Trek fans, it’s a rare glimpse backward to understand what the general public thought of science fiction adventures before the innovative conventions of Star Trek become standard conventions.
And because they are so wacky, it’s nice that each volume of this Eaglemoss/IDW series reprints just one Gold Key story. I worry that reading more than one of these Gold Key stories at one time would cause fans brains to melt.
Coming Distractions
Way back when, coming attractions for TV shows were a thing. “Next week on…” was marketing hype that we’d eagerly gobble up. Star Trek’s original series routinely ended with just such a teaser, so it’s fitting that each volume in this graphic novel collection has a coming attractions page. These pages are fun, appropriate and gets readers to anticipating exactly which version of Trek will be featured in the new volume.
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For more information on this, you can check it out here. And if you also get that Flying Batcave, let me know how you like it.
More than 20 years ago my swagger caused a rift between DC Comics and myself and that caused problems between DC and Milestone.
The pressure was put on Milestone to silence me. Silence me from what you ask? Calling DC Comics on their shit is what.
I gave up a significant income to concentrate on Milestone. DC was in breach of my deal, and as a result, I lived more than a year on my savings waiting for these people to pay me.
I did well, and my lifestyle conveyed that. My wife and I moved three times in just as many years. Our space got more luxurious until I found a loft, so dope (throwback slang it means fucking fantastic) thought I’d never want to leave there.
How dope?
If Milestone wanted to impress anyone those meetings took place in my new loft. That lifestyle was not because of comics my principal revenue source was from my work as a mainstream illustrator and speaker.
It’s important to the story to remember my standard of living when I decided to be part of Milestone. Yes, I would take a big hit financially to follow Denys’ dream, and I did so willingly as did Christopher Priest, Derek Dingle, and Dwayne McDuffie.
Priest left for an editorial gig at DC. Derek, Dwayne, Denys, and I stayed. We all signed pay or play agreements. Simply put, DC would guarantee income to the Milestone partners to sustain their standard of living in the event Milestone could not. Denys, Dwayne, and myself would be paid for our creative work on the comics and not take salaries. In other words, my “salary” would be for writing and drawing Static, Denys’ income was for illustrating Hardware and creating the Milestone covers, Dwayne from writing Icon and Hardware.
In the event, any partners had to utilize our ‘pay or play’ option DC had the choice of assigning us to work or just writing a check. Hence the meaning ‘pay or play’ either way they had to pay us for something or nothing.
While still in development a young artist in my mentor program had gotten so good I suggested he draw Static. John Paul Leon’s unique style fit much better than my photo-referenced artwork. I was to move over to Blood Syndicate, that was perfect for me. I would still write Static but join Ivan Velez Jr. on Milestone’s super gang book, so both streams of income still in place.
Then walked in Robert Washington.
Robert was so much better than I for Static. His energy and ideas were simply incredible. I may have created the Static Universe, but no doubt whatsoever it was John and Robert’s world. Dwayne asked, and I readily agreed to let Robert do the first story arc.
My Milestone income was cut in half then cut to zero when the decision was made for Larry Stroman to draw Blood Syndicate. I worried not because I could always petition DC to use my pay or play and I did.
I never got paid, but DC did try to play me.
Unless you’re my wife or lover girlfriend or mistress fist date or Salma Hayek, you don’t get to screw me. DC tried by ignoring me for months the clear message was to make me leave.
Back in the day, I was sure DC’s problem with me was growing pains and after some time would be resolved. With the future in mind, I committed all to my role at Milestone and got to work
It’s more than fair to say I earned all that money DC didn’t pay Milestone to pay me. I worked tirelessly and was happy to do so.
Happy until I came home one day saw my wife sitting on the couch crying.
After years of telling her not to worry she allowed herself to believe we were not living beyond our means. That day she got a call from the bank she had bounced a check. I never told her about the Milestone money issue or how much less I would be making if. I had plenty of money in the bank and the pay or play so why upset her?
Just like that, it was a year later and that money in the bank all but gone.
My ex-wife is Cuban, first generation to be born in America. Her parents were wonderful, hardworking people who barely escaped Castro with their lives. They came here wanting nothing but a chance to give their children a better life in the greatest country in the world. I sat beside her explained what happened to all our money and promised to do whatever she wanted.
What she wanted was to leave the loft, which I LOVED but not nearly as much as her.
There were a million ways I could have kept that space. But I knew it wouldn’t matter if Ed McMahon showed up the next day with a Publishers Clearing House check for ten million dollars. To her, that loft was an extravagance we didn’t need.
The next day I told Derek Dingle to fix whatever fucking problem DC had with my deal. I was livid, and he knew I was a step away from calling those motherfuckers directly.
Derek resolved nothing; it got much worse.
It didn’t help voicing my indignation either. Doing so was putting Milestone in a less than ideal position. I was a pain. DC wanted me gone, and my three former partners were in no position to do anything but co-sign.
DC Comics got their way…or so they thought. When the word got around I was available offers came in from Disney Universal and Motown. I decided to go with Motown. But there was a hiccup. During my background check, a letter sent to Motown was meant to destroy my deal.
Business Affairs at DC sent a letter saying I was still under contract at DC. That was an outright LIE and sending that information was perhaps criminal. DC was given copies of my Milestone release which they happily signed off on it months before.
Knowing I had every right to negotiate with Motown, yet sending a letter stating I couldn’t, certainly looked unlawful. Illegal or not, that was an atrocious thing to do. Clarence Avant, then Motown’s Chairman of the Board, got the letter and phoned me, outraged.
The person who ordered that letter once again underestimated me. I assumed character assassination so my references were impeccable and all my contractual information was forwarded to Motown’s business affairs long before DC tried that shit.
Included was my release from Milestone. DC never paid a cent on my pay or play, they were in breach. Funny— it may have worked if they had not made my wife cry.
Why would DC and Milestone and kill my new deal if they wanted me gone?
Warner Bros. got wind of my Motown deal and sent a scathing letter to DC berating them for allowing me to set up a competing comic book company. After getting that rammed up his ass the power that was had to do something.
Let’s be clear CRYSTAL CLEAR. Yes, I just wrote that DC Comics tried to illegally prevent me from taking a position at Motown because of a directive from Warner Bros.
That’s slander if I can’t prove it. Think I’m worried?
Wondering why I won’t out by name the people at DC who disliked me so? What’s the point? They will never respond to anything, there is no upside for them to do so, and frankly, I’m not a cruel person.
Here’s the rub. I wasn’t going to do a comic book line. My deal was to develop film and television, but then someone at DC had to go and fuck with me. They put themselves in the position WB was pissed about.
DC is a different company now. I bear them no ill will. They were and still are my favorite universe.
2011
Reggie Hudlin, Denys Cowan, Derek Dingle and myself decide to honor Milestone’s greatest partner Dwayne McDuffie and relaunch Milestone. On a late February evening Milestone, 2.0 (M2.0) was born. That date is crucial, and not just because of the partnership.
2015
Milestone 2.1 announced to the world. Milestone is back! One of if not the biggest comic book stories of 2015.
I find out on that day I was no longer a part of it.
Since then, little has been heard. No press, interviews and no books.
I have no knowledge of the inner workings at DC or Milestone, nor has anyone at DC or Milestone ever told me ‘why’ I was excluded.
That said, here’s my two-cent conclusion.
Milestone 2.0, in my opinion, is dead for four reasons.
Except for Denys Cowan, comics are not a priority for the partners.One partner runs a filmed entertainment empire, the other oversees a mainstream financial news publishing juggernaut. You think making comics is more important than interviewing the head of the Federal Reserve or producing the most famous award show in the world? Of the four of us, only Denys and I would answer yes.Comics is where we live and dream and have all our lives. Denys and I were more than just fans of comics we chose that as our life’s work and pursued it. There’s a massive difference between the other M2.0 founders and us.That’s not a dig, that’s a fact.
The second reason Milestone is dead and why I wrote the events of 20 plus years ago is corporate bullshit like what happened to me. Someone at DC or Milestone is holding fast to a way of doing things and because of such everything stops until the problem is resolved or made to go away.Who do I think is holding up the deal by insisting things get done a specific way? Looking at the playing field, it’s obvious DC does not need Milestone that’s a fact. So much of the fact that DC just announced another push into diversity with Dark Matter.And the way they are doing it is gangsta.I may be wrong, but DC seems to be going after that diversity dollar with a wee bit of help from those who have come before and know how to do it.Lion’s Forge Comics has been vocal about their diversity for years. When Joe Illidge came on that kicked it up another level. Those in the know call Lion’s Forge ‘the Forge.’
In June 2017 DC releases, Dark Days: The Forge.
Most likely a coincidence as in the Dark Matter tagline: “Forged From Metal, the New Age of Heroes.”
The Black Age of Comics is the tagline for the East Coast Black Age of Comics and has been for almost two decades. It’s also the unofficial name for the movement within the Black comic space.
“Dark Matters” has a strikingly close ring to ‘Black Lives Matter. Now all of this is most likely coincidence.
You must admit it’s a little freaky.
What is certainly not a coincidence: Dark Matters is a major line with diversity at its core and Milestone isn’t mentioned anywhere. That’s a ‘we don’t need you’ if ever there was one, so it does look like the holdup is DC.
NOPE.
I don’t think so— for my money, it’s someone at Milestone and that brings me to number three.
Milestone has no infrastructure. There’s no central hub no office no staff. Two of the partners have nice big spaces they work from, with employees but the work done there isn’t Milestone unless something has changed since I was involved.Also, one guy is doing movies; another guy is running a magazine, and he’s doing that from New York. DC is in Los Angeles, so any face to face must wait until they are all available.Denys Cowan’s is the only person whose business is creating comics, but with no central Milestone infrastructure behind him and his partner’s crazy schedules, there is no way in Hell he can do all that needs to get the deal done by himself.
January 2018 will mark three years since DC and Milestone made that historic announcement. That’s a long time, right? No. Not really. Not if you’re making movies and putting out magazines. But to the fans?
It’s a fucking eternity.
It’s also not correct. Milestone 2.0 formed in Feb 2011. The first meeting with DC was a few weeks after that.
January 2018 will mark SEVEN years since DC and Milestone had their first meeting. My thoughts on why Milestone is dead is conjecture. Those dates are real, and yes that’s a long time.
But to the fans?
It’s a fuck you.
I don’t think any Milestone partners feel like that. But with silence from Milestone, it may seem so. I haven’t talked to Denys, but I know this is killing him.
Hell, it’s killing me.
The fourth reason I think Milestone is dead can also be the reason they don’t have to be.But that will have to wait until next time.
When I was younger I would go to double features at the movies all the time; sometimes, even a triple feature. It was good value for the money; two movies for the price of one. We also had what was called second run theaters. These were more the neighborhood, smallish theaters that would show films after they had been in the larger theaters. There were even venues that would show old movies and change the program daily. This was before tapes or CDs were out and often were the only way to see old movies on a big screen (as God and Cecil B. DeMille intended).
Often the films were chosen randomly but every once in a while you’d get someone booking the films who knew what they were doing. I first saw Casablanca in a double bill with Play It Again, Sam, written and starring but not directed by Woody Allen. It was at the old 400 Theater on Sheridan Road not far from Loyola University and the place was packed with deeply appreciative fans. They cheered at every appropriate point. It was the best introduction I could have asked for to what has become one of my fave films.
These days it’s hard to find a double bill anywhere unless you’re possibly in NYC so Mary and I sometimes put together our own from the films we own. This isn’t the same as binge watching; we’ve done that as well with Downton Abbey or the Harry Potter films. No, we try to figure out which seemingly unrelated films might fit well together.
For instance, we finally got around to seeing Hidden Figures, which starred Octavia Spencer and told the story of black female mathematicians in the early days of NASA. Great cast, terrific story about something of which I knew nothing. What movie would go well with it?
The Right Stuff of course came to mind, covering the same era and some of the same events from a very different perspective. However, to my mind the film 42 – the story of how Jackie Robinson broke the color barrier in major league baseball — works even better. While they don’t cover exactly the same years, they do cover the same era when blacks were just starting to get some measure of equality and what it cost to do that.
I just watched Bull Durham again recently (it’s early in baseball season) and tried to think what would go well with it. Field of Dreams occurred to me, of course (another of my faves). Both films star Kevin Costner (why is Costner always better when he’s in films about sports of some kind?) and is about baseball but Field of Dreams is a little too mystical, I think. I’d rather go with Tin Cup. It’s about golf (which I largely detest) but it also stars Kevin Costner and is written (or co-written) and directed by Ron Shelton who also did Bull Durham. There is a similar sensibility in both films and a bawdy sense of humor.
I’d pair Disney’s Pinocchio with Miyazaki’s Spirited Away. Both animators are at the top of their game in their respective eras and styles and there is a sense of the weird and wonderful as seen through the figure of a child (or a puppet who would be a child).
I might pair Star Wars: The Empire Strikes Back with Star Trek: The Wrath of Khan. Both are tinged with darkness and loss. What would go with the first Rocky film (which is effective and touching and not bloated like the sequels)? I might pair it with Creed which could also be described as the lastRocky film. Seeing the character at the beginning and the end of his story arc could be very instructive.
Anyway, there’s a lot more and I‘m sure all of you can think of some. To me, it’s not just about naming two films but finding the connective tissue between them, an artistic DNA that suggests a relationship. That’s what makes a good double bill so interesting and so satisfying.
Now, if you’ll excuse me, the TV is calling my name. “Johhhhnnnn, Johhhhnnnnyyyy. . .!”
Okay, okay I’m coming. Keep your cathode ray tube on.
Note: I’d like to do a future column or two like a letters page in the old comics. If you have a question or a topic you’d like to put to me, stick it in the comments section and we’ll see what turns up.
If anyone is living under a rock these days, good for you. There are some of us who aren’t – and we’re living in a perpetual state of fear, revulsion, and panic. Why? Well, not to get too political, but the President of the United States of America is a lying, xenophobic, narcissist with tendencies to say whatever floats past his KFC-soaked brainstem. Over the last one hundred plus days in office, Donald Trump has tried to ban aliens from our welcoming shores, offended our allies, kissed up to our enemies, spent millions of dollars to fire off some weapons, and if you’ve been paying attention lately… obstructing the investigation that could link his campaign to Russia.
It’s comical at this point, if only because as a comic book fan, for once, I now know what it’s like to live under the reign of a super villain. But c’mon. This is America, damnit. And if we’re going to live under the rule of a megalomaniac… we could do better. My proof:
President Lex Luthor
Under President Luthor, it’s most likely he’d get far better than a Muslim ban passed. Luthor, with his actual fortune, and actual genius-level intellect would easily figure out a way to draft a bill and grease the right palms to ensure all aliens (be they foreign or Kryptonian) be held at the shores of their homelands – impossibly tethered to any nation but Lexmerica. Beyond holding sway over all xenophobes… I mean nationalists… President Luthor would also be a boon to the billionaire class. Sweeping tax cuts and promises of trickle-down economics would be bolstered by stories of how Lexcorp hires hundreds of thousands of people and has cultivated a workforce of go-getters. A few executive orders later and Bernie Sanders would be living in the South Pacific, shouting at the heavens in protest as the .001% soon own 99.99% of the country.
President Norman Osborn
When you think about it, Norman Osborn isn’t all that different from Trump. Crazy hair? Check. Short temper? Checkity-check. Rumors of mafia ties and a fortune built on the backs of the little people crushed back into the dirt? Check-check-1-2-check. But where Norman differs lay at the ground of all who look at us cock-eyed. Trump is a bit of a warhawk. Norman makes Trump look like a dove on an olive branch. President Osborn – gliding across Pennsylvania Avenue on his newest rocket-propelled death-machine – would shoot first, and never ask questions. All in the name of our country’s safety, mind you. North Korea? Smoldering ash. Russia? Newly minted as “America’s Gas Station.” The Middle East? Rebranded as Glassville, as one of the countries (President Osborne doesn’t recall which) looked at him cockeyed, so he ordered it all be nuked until he could see himself smile.
President Magneto
OK, this one might seem odd because President Magneto actually is 100% pro-choice. 100% for universal health care. He taxes the rich and gives it directly to the poor. He welcomes literally any alien seeking help. With his impenetrable magnetic dampening field generators attached to our warships and border, our country is armored against any attack! Sounds good, right?
Well, you’re not a mutant, so I hate to be the bearer of bad news; please go get on the cattle car outside. You’re due at the internment camps for muggles in two hours.
President Darkseid
Look, let’s get this out of the way immediately. Yes, the all-powerful despot doesn’t technically meet the established standards to become President. He wasn’t born on American soil. We’re not even sure if he has parents. And he definitely declined to even apply for citizenship. But on the plus side? It didn’t matter after he used his Omega beams to obliterate Congress, the courts, and… well… all the government buildings and people who worked in it. With that in mind? Life isn’t so bad now, is it? We’re all getting totally ripped working in the salt mines every day. Thanks to the newly added firepits, every day is a blustery 102 degrees – but it’s totally a dry heat. There’s no more debt, save for our miserable lives which we owe to our dark lord and ruler, of course. Say what you will, but at very least? I like that President Darkseid actually drained the swamp.
President Negan
You can call President Negan a bully. I mean, you might as well, he put it on the back of the new $20. But you can’t deny his results. After taking Secretary of Offense, Lucille, to all those folks overseas? We now enjoy half of the world’s supplies! I mean, it was only fair that they give them to us, right? President Negan protects all of us from the zombies. Sure, I’ve never exactly seen one in person, per say. But who needs to, when I know that all the work I’m doing now serves the greater good! With the Cabinet of Saviors in place, we’re all living within our means. And it’s great how forward the nation is with the LGBTQ community. I mean, it’s OK now to be whoever you were meant to be. So long as you don’t rape anyone? You’re totes kewl brah. I sure do miss Glenn though.
And you know what? Any one of these downright bastards would be a welcome change from he who calls themselves our leader today.
Last time I said I had no more Civil War II columns and here I am writing about Jessica Jones #6 and things that wouldn’t have happened without Civil War II happening. But writing about things that happened after Civil War II ended is not a Civil War II column. It’s a Civil War II aftermath column. So I didn’t lie. Technically.
And now that I’ve cleared my conscience, let’s get this over with.
Alison Green was one of the people that the Inhuman Ulysses Cain predicted was going to commit crimes. Which made her one of the people Captain Marvel arrested before they committed the crimes and threw into a preventative justice prison so that they couldn’t commit their future crimes. Unfortunately, Alison wasn’t going to commit a crime. Ulysses was as wrong about Allison as that soothsayer was about the Powerball numbers she gave me last week. And Captain Marvel was even more wrong to arrest Alison than she had been in arresting all the other people she was wrong to arrest.
Alison created an anti-super hero organization. Captain Marvel and Jessica Jones tricked Alison into believing Jessica Jones was disgraced so Alison would recruit Jessica into the organization. Which Alison did and got stung worse than Doyle Lonnegan after stepping on a hornet’s nest. Jessica helped Alison capture Captain Marvel, Then, when Alison thought she had the upper hand, she showed she had what it takes to be a comic-book villain; she went into full-blown monologue mode and revealed her master plan. Which was to kill the Champions in a way that would foster a huge anti-hero backlash and end the age of the super hero forever. (End the age of the super hero? I don’t think Disney pictures would like that very much.)
Captain Marvel said Alison’s Champions plan added conspiracy to commit murder to her other crimes. But I don’t know. See, the crime of conspiracy to commit a crime entails more than conspiring to commit a crime. As the details about Alison’s plan were sketchier than an Artist’s Alley commission, I’m not sure there’s enough there for a conspiracy charge.
Conspiracy has three basic elements. First, two or more people have to be involved. Second, they have plan together to commit a crime. Third, at least one of them has to commit some overt act in furtherance of the conspiracy.
Let’s take those one at a time. If only one person is involved, there’s no conspiracy. No one can conspire with him or herself. Even if all three faces of Eve agreed to commit the crime, that’s not a conspiracy because there’s only one Eve. And conspiracy is all about Eve and someone else planning a crime.
Second, the two or more people have to create a plan to commit a crime. They don’t all have to commit the crime. Even if only person commits the actual crime, as long as two or more of people planned the crime, they’d all be guilty of conspiracy. That’s two defendants for the price of one, what a bargain!
Third, at least one of the conspirators has to commit some overt act in furtherance of the conspiracy. If Bonnie and Clyde create a plan to rob the Commerce Bank in Beverly Hills then go to sleep so they can get a fresh start in the morning, they have not committed a conspiracy yet. However as soon as they do something else – drive to the bank, steal the getaway car, kidnap Sonny Drysdale to use as leverage against the bank president – they’ve completed the crime of conspiracy. It doesn’t even matter that they haven’t actually robbed the bank yet. By making the plan and then doing an overt act in furtherance of the plan they committed conspiracy, even if they never accomplish their ultimate objective.
So did Alison conspire to commit murder? Well, first we’d have to know did Alison make her plan to kill the Champions with one or more people? And, if so, with which people? If the only person Alison made her plans with was Jennifer Jones, then there can be no conspiracy. Jennifer wasn’t really part of the conspiracy, she was an undercover government operative. Traditionally, when the only other party to a conspiracy is a government operative, then two or more people aren’t agreeing to commit a crime. One plans to commit the crime, the other is just pretending as part of the undercover sting and we’re back to the a person can’t conspire with him or herself rule. Recently, some states and the Model Penal Code have started to move away from this position and allow conspiracy convictions when the co-conspirators are government agents, because the criminal thinks he or she has entered a conspiracy.
So if New York allows conspiracies with undercover police of if Alison made her plans with anyone in her organization other than Jessica, then the first element of the conspiracy is met. She probably did, but we weren’t given enough information in the story to know this for sure.
Assuming that Alison and others did plan to kill the Champions, the second element is also met. I trust that I don’t have to convince you that murder is a crime. I think I have to convince some writers of that, based on the way they have their heroes kill. But you, I shouldn’t have to convince. As murder is a crime, making plans with other people to commit a murder would hit conspiracy’s second element.
Third element, did any of the conspirators commit any overt act in furtherance of the plan to kill the Champions? We don’t know. We do know they were supposed to carry out the plan later that same night, so it’s likely that somebody had done something, because time was a wastin’ but the law doesn’t allow us to assume the existence of an element. So I can’t say for sure that anyone did an overt act or that Alison is guilty of conspiracy.
Sure Captain Marvel said Alison committed conspiracy. But let’s face it, Captain Marvel’s grasp of the law is about as firm as if she were noodling for mercury. While wearing a catcher’s mitt on both hands.
Now while I may not be able to tell you whether Alison’s guilty of conspiracy to commit murder, I can tell you this; I just checked my pile of write-about-these-someday comics and there isn’t one of them that’s connected to Civil War II. So I should be done with it. Unless Marvel’s got some new story coming up that connects back to Civil War II. And I don’t think they do. Civil War II is so last year. This year Marvel’s too busy secreting Secret Empire stories.
Got one for you.
Unless it was a snogglefritz. A snogglefritz, for those of you who attended the same schools as I did, must be perpetrated by someone with an IQ so high it cannot be measured. But we’re not talking just ant IQ here, this kind of IQ can never be detected. By anyone. Ever. Its proprietor doesn’t seem any brighter than the next guy. In fact, maybe a bit dimmer. He displays no talent. No wit. No special abilities of any kind. For him, the sound of chewing is conversation. He has no idea that massive intelligence lurks in his cranium.
The MI encodes the secret and hides the encoded secret in an ordinary sentence which the host will speak somewhere, sometime, with no awareness that he has also, simultaneously uttered a secret. This encoded secret is the snogglefritz. If someone detects and decodes the snogglefritz, that individual will have what is needed to salve mankind’s woes without even a single election. If the snogglefritz remains undetected?
When I was younger I would go to double features at the movies all the time; sometimes, even a triple feature. It was good value for the money; two movies for the price of one. We also had what was called second run theaters. These were more the neighborhood, smallish theaters that would show films after they had been in the larger theaters. There were even venues that would show old movies and change the program daily. This was before tapes or CDs were out and often were the only way to see old movies on a big screen (as God and Cecil B. DeMille intended).
