Friday, October 15, 2004

hey, Leaguers...


The 2004 Horrifically Hasty Halloween Heckstravaganza!

Even this undead abomination is getting her story in.

Time is running out, and I've gotten but a single reply thus far. The lovely and talented Madalina H. has given us a creepy tale sure to curl your toes.

he may be insane and invisible and on the run, but The Invisible Man STILL makes time to send in his spooky story

But what about Randy? Dedman? Harms? Nord? Cone? and last year's winner, the indominitable Maxwell? Maybe even Jill will return to the fold and grant us a creepy tale of child delivery.

Jamie, who is a sissy, will surely not send in a story. Because she is a big sissy.

Do YOU want to be a big sissy like Jamie? No. No you don't.

So review the rules and then send in your tale. Don't forget... each person who enters gets a spooky treat from The League, and the person who tells the best story gets the grand prize!

To review the guidelines, go here.

There's nothing creepy about Elvira, but I like to post pictures of her.

Howdy, Leaguers. I'm out of ideas, so it's time for another rendition of


Our first selection comes from the minds at Factory X. THis group used to do full-scale props from Marvel Comics... Iron Man's helmet, Nick Fury's pistol.... that sort of stuff. And they never seemed afraid to make somethign which might potentially put out an eye.

And thusly, they have brought us a full-scale model of the axe used by The Headless Horseman in Tim Burton's Sleepy Hollow. I remember enjoying the movie quite a bit. The story of Sleepy Hollow is always scary, and the imagery of the Headless Horseman is always a good one to make you get that Halloween chill.

And I watch TV at 3:00am, so i know there's lots of dudes in Kentucky who buy swords off of late night home shopping programs. So, hell, why not a huge, dangerous axe?

Our next entry is not for the squeamish. Remember the Elizabeth Bathory figure I mentioned not so long ago? How could the crack team of researchers at League HQ find something which would make me squirm in my seat even more?

From the realm of What-the-hell-is-wrong-with-you? come the line of collectibles known as Toxic Teddies. I'm not sure what else to say about these other than that they make me very, very uncomfortable. And I deeply suggest that if you're thin-skinned or want to avoid bad-dreams or don't want to relive personal crisis, that you not take a look at these toys at all.

Possibly the least disturbing of the Toxic Teddies. Oh, by the way... Welcome to the site, Dad!

They truly are TTSNB.

Toxic Teddies can be seen here.

Thursday, October 14, 2004

Omega Supreme update.

Okay, I think I thought the classic Omega Supreme was Metroplex, the transforming Autobot City.

You can check out the truly awesome classic Omega Supreme here.

Here is the much ballyhooed Astrotrain (whose name sounds like a 1980's post-Star Wars spin-off of Soul Train, I might add...)

And here is Metroplex, the weird Transformer city.

I don't recall anybody ever having the Metroplex toy.
Apparently, there's now a Voltron-like Transformer named "Omega Supreme".

To The League's ears, Omega Supreme sounds less like a Transformer and more like the item on the Taco Bell menu you simply want to avoid.

Wednesday, October 13, 2004

If you wanted proof positive that the President and Would-Be-President are important people, you should have been in Tempe this afternoon. Never before have I been so annoyed. And all of my predictions about the afternoon sucking..? Shockingly accurate. And of all the folks in my office to actually suffer through the worst of it? The League.

Dammit, Leaguers. The League has been personally inconvenienced once again.

I tried to get out of the office early, but after the meeting I mentioned in an earlier post, I had a lot of work to do, and I was also hangin' with Rahim. Hangin' with Rahim. I think I have a new sitcom on my hands.

Point being: I left dead last, and got to know the interior of my car intimately this afternoon.

Anyway, at 4:30 I kicked Rahim's butt out the door and headed AWAY. As I left the parking garage, some shirtless dude in an orange car was making the sign of the devil at me and honking his horn. I have no idea what that was about. Then I saw a riot crew of about a dozen, dressed in full gear and lazily walking the direction fo my car. I sped off.

At each corner were two more cops, (totalling about 8 per intersection) and the freaks were starting to make their appearances.

I KNEW the street running alongside campus was closed, and so I tried an end run around, popping out safely past campus in my pursuit of the 101. While crossing Mill, the street upon which the debates took place, I could not help but notice a crew of bicycle cops numbering about a dozen or more, pedaling furiously in unison, doing God knows what.

I reached my semi-planned escape route. However, University was closed about a block up. Some rent-a-cop security detail had closed down the street and was staring stupidly at the tremendous line of cars piling up. All traffic was stuck in a jam which literally could go nowhere but into a parking lot. Some of us were pulling a U-turn mid-road, and there was a motorcycle cop blaring lights, zipping up and down the road, not really doing much of anything. No idea what he was doing other than enjoying the shiny lights.

Undaunted, I tried my only other alternate road to reach the main freeway. This, too, was blocked. And turning around and going back the way from which I came meant turning back into the traffic jam built up for about a mile.

While Bush's team had checked out the Bank One Ball Park for their after-party, the Kerry folks had rented Tempe Beach along my second planned escape route. What I am saying, leaguers, is that all East/West traffic in Tempe was now impossible. Literally. And I couldn't go North because there's a man-made river (thus the beach), and my Southbound path was blocked by the auditorium holding the debate... so not really an option. And East/ West... closed off at Rural.

At this point, I kind of freaked out. But screaming at hippies only makes you feel okay for a short amount of time. Similarly, screaming at the Izod and Loafers crowd.

So, my only option... scratch that... the only option for everyone in TEMPE was to go WEST. The opposite direction from my house, I might add. North West.

My usual 45 minute drive took an hour and a half.

And I understand the need for security. I really do. But...

Can't they just hold these debates somewhere in the middle of the desert? Or on the moon? Or someplace where the mere presence of these two clods isn't going to turn the whole area into a police state?

I now wonder what Crawford, TX must be like whenever the President arrives. They must have a secret service detail for every citizen of the town.

Did I watch the debates? No. I think I've heard everything these guys are going to say. And, surely if asked why the need for all the crazy security, America would bristle and mock the questioner. But, no, seriously... what's up with all the security?

With terrorism being such a hot button issue, all this security doesn't make me feel more safe. The cops are there for riot control and to keep the anarchists from sneaking in behind the hippies and smashing up the Starbucks at 5th and Mill. But what, exactly, were the 8 cops stationed at Mill and 7th going to stop? Looting? A sudden invasion from foreign powers? What supercop maneuver are they going to pull if somebody DOES have a bomb or a car full of dynamite?

Its hard to describe, I guess. Lots and lots of cops, but they're being cops, and are looking for rowdy drunks and crackpots. The cops are not looking for somebody staying cool until they begin their wily scheme.

And then Kerry holds his after party in an open-air pavilion? Bush surrounds himself with 35,000 people he doesn't know at the BOB? But, for some reason we can't drive our cars East-West a mile from the auditorium?

I know, I know... its just one day, and you can't complain about this because its a necessary precaution. But this is how both of these guys are travelling across the country right now. This is what the experts feel is necessary in order for these guys to be protected. Or at least to feel protected.

That doesn't make me feel safer. Not by a long shot.
I know what the League is getting for Christmas.

Yes, singing sensation William Hung has blessed us with this Christmas miracle -- his Christmas CD entitled "Hung for the Holidays".

Let me just say that if the League insists on screwing with Mrs. League's car radio by constantly tuning it to the Christmas Station this year, he can fully expect the Krypton Kruiser's CD player rigged to have the "Hidden Bonus Track" from Hung's album on repeat.

--Mrs. League
Damn our democratic process.

The streets of Tempe are barricaded, and not even a greased up Bill O'Reilly will be able to slip through the steely grip of the laser-eyed Tempe police force. Our very presence has been met with surprise by event organizers, who suggested those of us working on the same street as the auditorium holding the debate not even come to work today.

I'd wanted to go down to campus and eyeball the press (oh, Judy Woodruff... why do you elude me, you sly fox?). Chris Matthews has been down by the Union throwing gas on the fire, from what I hear. Good for him. Tempe, for being a college town, is some serious political deadwood. I hear Brendan, a kid I know, actually made it on Hardball.

I can't go down there during lunch, as I've been scheduled for a lunch meeting (hey, free lunch). And I can't get out of here early as my boss can't make it to his 2:00, which puts me and Al in there as his back-up until probably 4:00.

No signs of protestors yet. But the place we're going for lunch has a balcony overlooking Mill, so maybe I can see the sign-wavers while I eat some noodles.

But the buzz in the air is not particularly positive. People don't talk politics in my office (thank God), and everyone is wondering how they're going to leave work today as the fuzz is closing down most of the streets near campus. These streets are also the main thoroughfares to get in and out of downtown. So, terrorists, you're going to either have to take a sidestreet or walk. Those are your fiendish options.

I was told yesterday that Gammage, the site of the debate, was originally designed by Frank Llyod Wright for some Saudi nobility who didn't pay up, so Wright gave the plans to ASU. I need to take another look at the building, because I never looked to see if there's any eastern flair to the building. I don't think so, but you never know.

***update*** Turns out the building was designed for Iraqi officials in the mid-1950's. Unfortunately, the monarch of Iraq was assasinated, and the approval for the project didn't go through. Apparently, my source for the originally story was not ot be trusted. ****

Anyway, I'll be spending the morning running up and down Mill looking for snipers and dudes with ear pieces and sunglasses. Good-bye relaxed workplace, hello peek into a police state.

By the way, the reports regarding Bush's "hidden" Wi-Fi pack are true. Using the bleeding-edge resources available only at League HQ, we've tapped into the President's transmissions. He's listening to all of Jethro Tull's "Aqualung" on a loop. Those odd pauses..? Flute solo.
Britney Watch!

Hello, and welcome to a new feature here at The League.

"I'd love to have a baby already. But I've got to take care of some things first ... I want to become a mother. I'm crazy about children ... next year, when I'm 23 I'll be ready."

Yes, life is pretty much over for America's little sweetheart.

This segment is dedicated to observing and enjoying the rapid descent of former teen-pop marshmallow, Britney Spears. I first became aware of Britney Spears when my co-workers downloaded her "one More Time" video (legally, I am sure) for viewing.

The Spice Girls were almost already a bitter-sweet memory, and the world was craving something newer, fresher, and less classy. And so many options! Christina Aguil... Aguila... Aguil... the slutty girl whose name I can't spell... Jessica Simpson, Shakira, and whomever the hell else. I don't know. Anyway, suddenly, no matter where you looked, there were annoying people with Pepsi contracts.

Hell, even Bob Dole wasn't afraid to make a buck from Pepsi and allow America's Britney-lust become a public joke.

Looking back, could we have predicted a child raised in show-biz and worshipped for her teen-age sex-kitten status would begin to flail a bit the second she was free of contractual and parental control?

Yes. Yes we could. But we never do. It's the hilariously tragic story of American celebrity, Leaguers.

We all remember the first signs of Britney cracking... the abrupt ending to her Mexico City show a few years back. The stupid snake thing at the MTV Video awards, the Madonna incident(s). But now... now Ms. Federline is 22, a millionaire many times over, and has already had the best day of her life she's ever going to have. So where does she go from here? Full-on celebrity implosion, my friends.

We don't need to relate the belabored wedding ceremony to car-wash refugee Kevin Federline, or the fact that she picked him up from his girlfriend (8 months pregnant with their second child). But we MUST get onboard this runaway train here at The League for the sheer entertainment value.

We're now taking bets on how many weeks/ months Ms. Spears will remain Ms. Federline, both professionally and legally.

In the meantime, we celebrate Mr. Federline. He has shown himself to have no character, but has still steered himself into marrying a millionaire. I can only suggest he enjoy the short and bumpy ride before he makes that final, crucial mistake, and Mrs. Federline begins reviewing her pre-nup.
Nothing this good ever happens in Arizona.

Tuesday, October 12, 2004


Love Pulp?
Love Shatner?

(the answer to that second question better be yes, or I disavow any knowledge of your existence...)

If you love these two pop culture icons, I can only recommend you go here.

For a whole album of Shatner ROCKING THE F**KING HOUSE, go here. And then go buy the album, you bastards.
Several cartoons appeared in newspapers yesterday in tribute to Christopher Reeve.

You can see a collection of them here. Link is from The Superman Homepage.

Monday, October 11, 2004

"But most will remember this sad day as the day the proudest, most noble man they ever knew finally fell. For those who loved him -- one who would call him husband, one who would be his pal, or those who would call him son -- this is the darkest day they could ever imagine. They raised him to be a hero: to know the value of sacrifice, to know the value of life. And for those who served with Superman in the protection of all life comes the shock of a failure: the weight of being too late to help. For a city to live, a man had given his all and more. But it's too late. For this is the day that a Superman died." - Superman #75, 1992 (written by Dan Jurgens)

--Mrs. League

Christopher Reeve has died at the age of 52.

As you've doubtless heard, actor and social activist Christopher Reeve died of complications on October 11th, 2004.

Mr. Reeve spent the past several years working tirelessly to help the many victims of paralysis by fundraising, encouraging research and working with congress. The loss of Mr. Reeve should only memorialize that which Mr. Reeve spent the latter part of his life working to achieve.

It would be dishonest of me to say that I didn't take a special interest in this cause due to Mr. Reeve's association with four Superman films and his appearances on Smallville. I suggest that, as a nice reminder of the joy he put into his work, that you watch one of the films this month. I'll be taking time out to watch Superman this week.

Out of respect for Mr. Reeve, I won't be posting for 24 hours. I ask that you take some time, instead of reading here, to visit the website for the Chrisopher Reeve Paralysis Foundation, and consider sending in a donation sometime this year.

Spent this weekend stripping paint off of the submarine so that we can add that nice chrome finish to the hull before we launch from Los Angeles and sail on to claim Catalina Island as our own, renaming the place "La Isla delos Bobos". Also bought a blue lightbulb and a mask. Tried to entertain Isaac, but it was past his bedtime. I established 3 towns and two cities, but in the end, my inability to have a good wheat crop was my downfall. And, also, my foolhardy plan to build a cross-island freeway was frought with peril.

Am intrigued with the inability of the Arizona Cardinals to win in the best of circumstances, disheartened at the loss of the Cowboys, and am proud UT didn't go down in a Hindenberg like mess as they have done in so many appearances at the Cotton Bowl. Ah, there's always those troglodytes from Bryan to beat up on when we're feeling low.

Fed up with politics and all political ideas, I am trying to avoid the debates, which come to ASU and the Frank Lloyd Wright designed structure a block from my office this coming Wednesday. Luckily, I no longer have a window, so those Secret Service bastards won't be able to shoot me without blasting a 2 foot crater through the damned hair salon. Not that the hair salon and I don't deserve it, for surely the secret service is aware that I've read the Majestic 12 papers and I'm on to those filthy swine. How dare they make a secret pact with Alien/ Nazis just to get the secret of rocket technolgy? Like they haven't had anti-megnetic drives whizzing home made saucers all over the upper atmosphere since 1951... Were we in that kind of race to the moon? Nonsense. We could have made it on the backs of a sea of disposable labor and by squeezing some ideas out of Irwin Allen and reading the latest from Julius Schwartz. I suspect those aliens duped us, anyway. Who ever heard of placing a man in a thimble at the top of a tube full of liquid explosive? Its foolhardy and only works as a party trick.

I am not voting. The democrats keep calling, 6 times a day. God bless caller ID. They'll get neither my money nor political support, for this year we put an end to the vote and select an emperor. The states become fiefdoms and we're kept under an uneasy truce by the emperor, who consolidates his/ her power by ensuring there's a low-level of constant bloodshed between his many fiefdoms. I'll work as a samurai in The Shining Land of the Enormous Hole in the Ground, protecting villagers and chasing off the barbarian hordes from Utah. It'll be great. I'm gonna wear a helmet and everything.

This webpage stinks, but if the commercials are any indication, My Big, Fat Obnoxious Boss is going to be EXACTLY the reality show I've been waiting for.

Thank you, Fox.