Comic Art Friday: One-way ticket to midnight

Posted May 22, 2009 by swanshadow
Categories: Cinemania, Comic Art Friday, Soundtrack of My Life

People (at least, they look like people — they might be aliens in clever disguise) ask me, “How do you come up with the ideas for your Common Elements theme?”

Since there may be folks who are just discovering us in our new WordPress digs, I’ll briefly explain what Common Elements is all about. (You old-timers can feel welcome to skip the next paragraph.)

Common Elements is an ongoing series of commissioned original artworks — 82 entries, at this writing — each of which presents a combination of comic book heroes who, though otherwise unrelated, share some feature in common. Sometimes, the “common element” is obvious — one of the earliest entries, drawn by Scott Rosema, spotlighted a match-up of Iron Man and Iron Fist. In other cases, the common element is more obscure.

Here’s one such case.

The masked gent wielding the gas gun is Wesley Dodds, comics’ first and greatest Sandman. His blade-brandishing companion is Taarna, heroine of the tentpole sequence in the classic science fiction anthology film, Heavy Metal. The artist who brought this tableau to potent life is Edgar Tadeo, who, though primarily known as an inker (on such series as Wolverine and X-Men: Worlds Apart), is a gifted penciler as well.

Although the Sandman moniker has been worn by several characters over the decades, gas-masked, fedora-sporting Wes Dodds was the original. In fact, the Dodds incarnation of Sandman ranks as one of comics’ oldest costumed superheroes, having debuted in Adventure Comics #40 (July 1939). Sandman was also one of the charter members of comics’ seminal superhero team, the Justice Society of America, when that august body first appeared in late 1940.

Like his contemporary Batman, Sandman possessed no superhuman abilities. Instead, Dodds relied on highly developed detective instincts and specialized technology — specifically, a gun that emitted gases which Sandman could use to put criminals to sleep, or compel them to tell the truth. His mask protected Wes from the effects of his own gas. (Say… I know a few people who could use a mask like that.)

A couple of years after his premiere, Sandman underwent some radical changes. He scrapped his fedora, business suit, and gas mask in favor of a more typical superhero costume — purple and yellow tights. Sandman also, like many heroes of the ’40s, took on a teenage sidekick designed to appeal to younger readers. In this instance, Wes adopted the nephew of his murdered fiancee, a boy who adopted the nom de guerre Sandy. Sandman and Sandy continued as the cover feature of Adventure until 1945.

As with most of the “mystery men” of comics’ Golden Age, Sandman disappeared from view by the late 1940s. He and his Justice Society comrades resurfaced in the pages of DC’s Justice League of America two decades later, by way of periodic team-ups between the old-school heroes and their Silver Age opposite numbers.

Over the succeeding years, several characters other than Wes Dodds have picked up the Sandman mantle. Most notably, popular fantasy writer Neil Gaiman created a version completely unrelated to the costumed heroes of the same name — Morpheus, the mythological Lord of Dreams. Gaiman’s Sandman helped launch DC’s mature-readers line, Vertigo Comics, with dark tales of the macabre.

In current continuity, Wes Dodds is deceased, and the now-adult Sandy battles evil in the reconstituted Justice Society as Sandman — complete with gas mask and fedora.

By now you may be wondering: What’s the common element shared by Wes Dodds and the silent, mysterious avenger Taarna?

As previously noted, Taarna appears in the 1981 animated film Heavy Metal. Ten years later, the rock band Metallica made a song entitled “Enter Sandman” the centerpiece of their eponymous album.

Call it heavy metal.

And that’s your Comic Art Friday.

[You can view previous Comic Art Friday posts here.]

What’s Up With That? #76: Reward Zone? More like Twilight Zone

Posted May 21, 2009 by swanshadow
Categories: Aimless Riffing, My Home Town, Taking Umbrage, What's Up With That?, Wonderful World of Advertising

The following is an example of how NOT to provide an incentive for your business’s customers.

Earlier this year, I bought a new HD plasma TV at Best Buy. This purchase garnered me a membership in Best Buy’s bonus program, Reward Zone, and $35 in free merchandise of my choosing. (Say it with me: If it’s free, it’s for me.) The company mailed me a bright blue Reward Zone card a few weeks after the TV arrived… a card which I tossed into a stack of paperwork and largely forgot about.

Forgot, that is, until a Best Buy representative called me the other day to remind me that my $35 reward expires on June 13, and encouraged me to redeem it promptly.

Online shopping being as efficient as it is, I rarely make a trip to Best Buy these days. But hey, for $35, I could use a little fresh air and sunshine. I’d been looking at desktop microphone stands on eBay — just the ticket for lengthy narrative and audiobook reads — and I knew that Best Buy sold such an animal. So, off to the Big Blue Box I travel.

A quick cruise around the musical instruments and audio department turned up the mic stand. I picked one up and proceeded to the register. I handed the box and my Reward Zone card to the young man behind the counter.

“I’d like to get this with my Reward Zone bonus,” I said, just in case the combination of merchandise and reward card wasn’t self-explanatory.

“Do you have a certificate?” the clerk asked.

“Certificate?”

“Yeah. A certificate that says how much your Reward Zone bonus is.”

“I don’t have a certificate. They mailed me this card.”

“You have to go online and print a certificate.”

“Umm… I went online and registered the card like the instructions said. Can’t you just scan the card and see how much reward money I have coming?”

“No, you have to have a certificate.”

Clearly, this conversation was going nowhere.

My next stop was the customer service desk. The young woman there was, at least, more enthusiastic than her counterpart in the audio room.

“Yes, you do have to print out your Reward Zone certificate in order to redeem it. But let me scan your card, and I’ll print your certificate right here.”

She brought up the information and directed me to key in my password. In moments, she handed me a certificate for $35 in Reward Zone funds. Oh, frabjous day!

“Did you want to use this to buy that?” the clerk asked, pointing to the mic stand in my hand.

“Yes, please.”

She scanned the bar code on the box.

“Oh, this is only $12.99 before tax.”

“I understand that. But that’s less than $35.”

“Yes, but the way the program works, you have to get a combination of merchandise that’s a minimum of $35 before tax. The system won’t break up the amount. You have to use it all at once.”

“Okay. How about if I just take this one item, and you guys keep the $22 balance?”

“The system won’t let me do that. You have to get $35 worth of merchandise.”

“Even if I only want one $13 item?”

“I don’t know why they set up the program that way,” she said empathetically. “But that’s how it works.”

Thus, having already wasted an incredible amount of time on what seemed at the beginning like a simple project, I now found myself trolling the aisles of Best Buy, trying to find something worth at least $22 that I might actually use.

Twenty minutes later, laden with a 2 gigabyte flash drive and a six-outlet surge protector strip in addition to my mic stand, I approached the checkout counter. With dispatch, the clerk processed my merchandise, collected my $35 certificate — plus $7.61 from my debit card — and sent me on my way with a bright blue bagful of Best Buy gear.

So, here’s the bottom line.

In order for me to get the one $13 item I wanted in exchange for my Best Buy Reward Zone bonus, Best Buy…

  • Gave up a total of $42 in merchandise.
  • Wasted a half-hour of my Thursday.
  • Involved three members of its customer service team.
  • Raised my already hypertensive blood pressure with pointless exercise.
  • Got seven bucks of my money in the bargain.
  • Frustrated me to the point that it’ll be a snowy August in Fresno before my shadow falls across the threshold of another Best Buy store.

Is that any way to run a rewards program?

While I’m on the subject: Why is the name of the store Best Buy, if your best buys are always at Fry’s, guaranteed?

For that matter, why can’t you get fries at Fry’s?

My dream poker table

Posted May 20, 2009 by swanshadow
Categories: Aimless Riffing, Celebritiana, Listology, Teleholics Anonymous, Vegas, Baby

This week, NBC’s late-night series Poker After Dark (yes, I am often up and about at 2 a.m., and yes, occasionally I’m watching poker on TV) is rerunning one of its “Dream Table” episodes. The basic concept is that the gaming site Full Tilt Poker runs a tournament online, and the amateur player who wins the tourney gets to play against his or her five favorite poker pros on the TV show.

Poker After Dark has held three of these Dream Table events, if I recall correctly. None of the amateurs has ever won the table, but I’m sure they’ve all enjoyed pitting their poker skills against some of the legends of the game.

Not that I’d ever get on enough of a roll to merit my own Dream Table, but if I did, I know the five pros I’d invite. My table probably wouldn’t provide as much ratings fodder as those that have appeared on the show thus far, because I’d bypass obnoxious but telegenic players like Phil “PokerBrat” Hellmuth (he’ll win this week’s rerun, in case you don’t want to stay up late Friday night) and Mike “The Mouth” Matusow in favor of talents I admire even though they aren’t as flashy.

Look at it this way: If I were granted a once-in-a-millennium opportunity, why would I want to waste it with people whose company I probably wouldn’t enjoy? I’d rather choose people I might actually like. Life’s too short to play poker with jerks.

So here’s my Dream Table, in no particular order.

Daniel “Kid Poker” Negreanu. I read Daniel’s newsletter every week. He’s smart and funny, knows everything there is to know about the game, and seems like a genuinely nice guy. Daniel is the man I’d hire to upgrade my game if I won the Lotto. Which is unlikely, since I haven’t bought a Lotto ticket in maybe 20 years.

Jennifer Harman. Considered by many to be the world’s best female player, frail blonde Jen (she’s had some fairly serious health problems in recent years) looks like a homeless urchin whom someone cleaned up and dropped off at the casino. She’s quiet and thoughtful — almost sullen at times — while playing. But I like her focused approach.

Phil Ivey. Often called “the Tiger Woods of poker,” Phil doesn’t turn up on TV as often as some of the other big-name pros, but when he does, he’s usually right in the mix. (He’s made a record eight final tables on the World Poker Tour.) I can’t make heads or tails of Phil’s hyper-aggressive style — there doesn’t seem to be any visible logic to the starting hands he plays — but I dig watching him.

Howard “The Professor” Lederer. Howard might be the smartest guy at any table he plays, except when Chris “Jesus” Ferguson (a math prodigy who holds a Ph.D. in computer science from UCLA) sits in. Howard’s father is the linguistics maven Richard Lederer, whose books on wordplay — including Anguished English and The Cunning Linguist — are among my favorites. I’d mostly invite Howard in the hope that he’d introduce me to his dad after the show. (Howard’s sister is poker star and Celebrity Apprentice runner-up Annie Duke. I like Annie, but I wouldn’t want anyone at my Dream Table who’d been that close to Joan Rivers.)

Jennifer Tilly. And no, not for the two most obvious reasons. Jennifer was nominated for an Academy Award in 1994 (for Best Supporting Actress in Bullets Over Broadway; she lost to her costar Dianne Wiest). I’d want another actor at the table so that I’d have someone I could talk with about a subject other than poker. You know… a subject I might actually know something about.

Fresno in my rear-view mirror

Posted May 18, 2009 by swanshadow
Categories: Aimless Riffing, Celebritiana, Soundtrack of My Life, Teleholics Anonymous

I just flew in from Fresno… and boy, is that joke tired.

The chorus and I performed in the city I like to call “Gateway to Bakersfield” this past weekend. As it usually is whenever I’m in Fresno — which, thank heaven, is not all that often — it was blazing hot and muggy. Of course, we decided to go with a solid black stage ensemble which accentuated the heat and mugginess. The things we do for love.

Still, we had fun, and received some useful feedback from the judging panel. All in all, a worthwhile tuneup for International competition in Anaheim the first week in July.

Temperature aside, Fresno treated me rather nicely during the 24 hours I spent there.

I found inexpensive overnight lodging at a chain-affiliated establishment that caters to business travelers, which meant that the place was nearly deserted on a pre-summer weekend. (One exception: the honeymooning couple in the room next door. Congratulations, Mike and Diana. I hope you enjoy a long and happy life together.)

A helpful young woman named Patricia checked me in upon arrival. I presume that her name was Patricia, as that was the word she had tattooed across her chest. It’s possible, of course, that “Patricia” was a child, partner, or loved one of some other variety. I’m just applying Occam’s razor here.

Although the hotel had seen better days — if indeed Fresno ever had better days — my room was efficiently appointed and reasonably comfortable. Comfortable, that is, with the exception of the bed, which was hard enough to rank somewhere between corundum and diamond on the Mohs scale, and to qualify as a torture device under the Geneva Conventions. Seriously, Indian fakirs would lie on this monstrosity and plead for nails instead. I was grateful that I only needed to endure the pain for a single night.

Because we wrapped our evening of singing after usual restaurant hours, I feasted on a midnight repast at a nearby location of America’s favorite 24-hour eatery. I ordered breakfast fare — tougher for the short-order cook to screw up — which arrived quickly and quite palatably prepared. The waitress, a pleasant woman of Samoan heritage, kept my lemonade glass filled and whisked away my emptied dishes with aplomb while I pored over Wil Wheaton’s Just a Geek on my Kindle and observed the night manager’s smooth pickup technique as he attempted to score some play from a pair of local talents occupying a corner booth.

As I pulled out of town on Sunday, it occurred to me that, while Fresno might not be my cup of Earl Grey, it seemed to be working just fine for most of the people I encountered during my brief stay. The staff and patrons at the hotel, at the performance venue, at the restaurants, and at the Arco station where I filled my gas tank before departing… all appeared cheerful and satisfied. Endless 100-degree heat in the bucolic middle of nowhere doesn’t shmear my bagel, but for them what likes it — or perhaps, have no experience with any other existence — it’s a life.

And there’s not a darned thing wrong with that.

Fun Fresno factoid: Until January of this year when term limits kicked in, Fresno’s mayor was former NFL player Alan Autry, who co-starred as Carroll O’Connor’s sidekick Bubba Skinner on In the Heat of the Night back in the 1980s and ’90s. It is my firm conviction that every actor who’s ever played a supporting role on a TV series will eventually be elected to public office. Just ask Fred Thompson, Sheila Kuehl, Fred Grandy, Ben Jones, the late Sonny Bono, and yes, Clint Eastwood. (Rowdy Yates on Rawhide, for those of you too young to know or too old to remember.)

Comic Art Friday: Union Jacks

Posted May 15, 2009 by swanshadow
Categories: Comic Art Friday

Speaking of queens — and we were, weren’t we? I’m sure we were — it’s always struck me as a trifle peculiar that the largest country ruled by a queen calls itself the United Kingdom.

It may have something to do with those mushy peas.

At any rate…

I’ve long wanted to commission a drawing for my Common Elements theme gallery that would feature the United QueenKingdom’s two greatest superheroes. It seemed somehow inappropriate, though, to assign the project to an artist who wasn’t a son or daughter of the Sceptered Isle. Somehow, I just didn’t think the Queen would approve.

After lo, these many years, along came Mike McKone.

Although best known on these formerly colonial shores for illustrating the adventures of such quintessentially American heroes as Spider-Man and the Fantastic Four, Mike leaped at the chance (or at the very least, politely agreed) to bring together for the first time two stalwart defenders of Albion: Marvelman and Captain Britain.

Being the Yank that I am, I unthinkingly requested the commission from Mike using Marvelman’s American name — the character being known on this side of the Atlantic as Miracleman, for reasons that will become clear in a moment. Under his original nom de guerre, Marvelman has enjoyed a lengthy and storied career as a crimefighter, beginning in 1954.

The idea for Marvelman was dreamed up by Len Miller, the British publisher who at the time was reprinting the adventures of the original Captain Marvel for UK audiences. When Fawcett, the good Captain’s American publisher, was driven from the comics field due to lawsuits filed by DC Comics, the publisher of Superman, Miller hired writer Mick Anglo to reinvent the character sufficiently to avoid similar legal action, thus enabling Miller to stay in business.

Anglo’s revamped character was still a young news reporter who gained superpowers by uttering a magic word. Instead of Billy Batson’s “Shazam,” Micky Moran transformed by saying “Kimota,” or “atomic” spelled backwards phonetically. As Marvelman, Micky continued to wage war against evil until 1963. Twenty years later, legendary comics writer Alan Moore revived the character in new adventures. When American publisher Pacific Comics began reprinting the series, the hero’s name became Miracleman — a rather transparent effort to avoid incurring the wrath of a certain other comics concern already using the word “Marvel” to legally actionable effect.

Part of the impetus for Marvelman’s return was the success of another superhero, ironically published by the UK arm of Marvel Comics. Captain Britain had been launched in 1976 as the Anglophilic equivalent of Marvel’s ever-popular Captain America. The new Captain appeared in his own eponymous comics, available only in the UK, for a couple of years before making his US debut in Marvel Team-Up #65.

From that point forward, Captain Britain became a regular fixture in the Marvel Universe. In the 1980s, Cap’s cocreator, writer Chris Claremont, made him the linchpin of the X-Men spinoff series Excalibur, which featured a UK-based team of heroes including former X-Men Nightcrawler and Kitty Pryde. More recently, Cap has headlined his own title, Captain Britain and MI-13.

I couldn’t be more thrilled that Mike McKone took a few moments away from his busy Amazing Spider-Man schedule to draw today’s spotlight artwork. I understand that Mike was pretty pleased with the results himself.

And that’s your Comic Art Friday.

[You can view previous Comic Art Friday posts here.]

As I was saying…

Posted May 14, 2009 by swanshadow
Categories: SwanStuff

Welcome to the new (I’ll let you decide whether it’s improved) SSTOL!

After two weeks of frustration with Blogger, SSTOL is permanently relocating to WordPress.

All of the posts from our first five years will remain indefinitely in their present location, and you’ll be able to revisit them to your heart’s content.

Note that with the move comes a new URL: https://swanshadowblog.com/

Please be sure to update your bookmarks!