So there are some really nice things about having your own little website.

One of the nice things is how it keeps you up to date with folks, and how it kind of creates a little bubble world with people orbiting around it.

Recently Maxwell was updating her bio on her blog, and I was asked to participate. Her bio is not written by Ms. Cowgirl Funk herself, but by her readership.

Anyway, as I was face-to-face with Maxwell mostly during her high school years, we ended up chatting sidebar, and I took some unexpected side trips down Memory Lane. Specifically we visited some nicer, out of the way places on Memory Lane, and then a few, dodgier holes-in-the-wall that I enjoyed, but hadn't been to in a while.

All in good fun.

I'm not in touch with too many folks from old KO anymore (although folks like Jill and Madi tend to pop up upon occasion, and its always fun). I do think its important to remember all that stuff, if, for no other reason, than to remember exactly where you came from. If you weren't that bright back then, what is 2004-you going to look like to 2015-you, Mr. Smarty-Pants?

Anyway, thanks to Maxwell for tossing some lighter fluid on the those barely glowing embers.

Another perk of being EIC of The League is that is that my readership sends me junk in the mail. GOOD JUNK in the mail, too.

Recently, Jim D. sent a crate of comics I still haven't properly sorted. And in the past two days I received some choice comics from RHPT.com and Nathan Cone, your voice of the noon-day hour on Texas Public Radio.

RHPT.com sent along several comics including this item, which is utterly fascinating.



Nathan sent along some odd artifacts located at a shop in San Antonio.


Screech: I'm even better looking in comics!
Jessie Spano: And we're all even funnier!

It's a dialog like this on the front cover that makes you think the creators were looking for a way to lash out at these juvenile delinquents after having to lose a month of their life drawing the contractually bound spin-off comic. At some point you can almsot see the editorial staff at Harvey Comics wondering aloud who put an ugly little kid like Samuel "Screech" Powers on TV. And, while lovely, wondering exactly what comedic chops Jessie Spano had shown to get a spot on the show. Funnier than on TV, indeed. Unless you count the very special episode where Jessie got hopped up on goofballs to try to handle her school load and her work with the SBTB band, Zack Attack.

Anyone remember her breakdown during "I'm So Excited!"? No? Ah, well.

The comic inside keeps to the hi-jinks of the source material, but with a greater flair than what the $10 prop budget could have afforded on SBTB. Remember when they fired Hayley Mills? And then they fired Max of The Max? Mr. Belding must have been scared s**tless he was going to lose his job. He probably condeded to take less than SAG.

What's really horrific in the comic isn't just the stoney thud of dropped gag after dropped gag. Rather, the attempts to render the SBTB gang in cartoon fashion, trying to caricature each actor, fail to capture any flattering likeness of any actor, and somehow making it clear that this was hack work as the artist fought to break into comics. There's also the possibility that the artist is at the end of his rope and can't believe he's found himself working at Harvey Comics instead of Archie, and he's maybe sick of all these damn teen-agers and their acid washed jeans.


The SBTB gang sits at their usual booth at The Max. The lovely Jessie Spano is now a deformed hag thing.

Obviously the artist was roughly familiar with the interiors used by the SBTB crew, probably from hour of reference tape or the 3 times a day the show aired in 1992 when teh comic was released. The artist actually does use the same dumb booth that was so prevalent in episode after episode of SBTB.

For a rough idea of what our SBTB friends look like, you can see them in the game below. I'll send along answers if anyone wants them. I assume you have better things to do, though.


Update: Here, Jessie Spano looks like the love child of Mask stars Cher and Rocky Dennis. AC Slater now looks like one of Roger Clinton's illegitimate children.

Nathan also sent along a Supergirl comic from 1970. I actually suspect the first story is a reprint from the late 50's, but I can't prove it. Anyway, enjoy the two panels below.


Yes, that's a talking horse. His name is Comet the Superhorse. One day I will cover Comet the Superhorse, but for now, just sit back and soak up the groovy Silver-Age vibe.


Comet the Superhorse is a) not afraid to go out like a bitch b) not afraid to leave a major pile of guilt upon the lady who brought him oats and gelded him.

And just for fun, here's The Admiral on Halloween. He poses with his 12-foot Halloween decoration and the little girl from next door. Dad was very proud of that inflatable doo-hickey. I believe the distortion on the left is Ansel Adams' (aka My Mom's) finger.


We're sending the men with the butterfly nets after the holidays. We don't want Dad's shock treatment to spoil Christmas.

For some reason, Tim Burton is remaking Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.

Here are some pics.

SPONSOR DOUG AS HE PEDDLES HIS WAY INTO GOOD KARMA

The League is neither particularly in-shape, nor charitable. But sometimes The League gets inspired by the hard work, determination and giving of others.

As the Holidays approach, we're selecting a few key charities we think you might like to dump your money into. Unlike stocks, bonds and bacon futures, the only thing you'll get in return is a chance to help a worthy cause and possibly assist in improving the human condition. That won't buy you a speedboat, but it will make you somewhat less evil.

The League's brother-in-law is both in-shape and charitable, and has gone and volunteered himself for the AIDS/Lifecycle. Doug will be peddling 585 miles over the course of seven days in order to raise money and awareness of the AIDS epidemic.

We're fully aware at The League that our readership is good of heart, if a little cheap. But it's creeping up on Christmas and I'm feeling full of Holiday mirth, so I'm giving you cheap bastards a shot. Back at League HQ we've taken a hard look at what we're going to sponsor this year, and we think this is a great cause. We hope you'll think so as well.

To sponsor Doug on his life-saving fantastic voyage, go here.

Tonight, our world is a little poorer.

Ol' Dirty Bastard has merged with the infinite.

I am not, in any way, familiar with hip-hop. That train left the station while I was still trying to convince people it was never going to get better than The Fat Boys.

But I did work at Camelot Records at Highland Mall from 1995-1997. And one day, while sorting the rap section, I came across this album cover. And I stood in the middle of the store laughing for five minutes.

Wu-Tang is now down a man, but The Wu will go on.

My apologies if I appear to be light of blogging.

I was busy, and now I'm taking a few days off from my usual schedule and work.

I think you can get along without me.

And, hey... while I'm out... somebody solve the mystery of why Molly hasn't blogged in over a month. What's going down in the Land of the Rising Sun?

I hereby formally endorse the new Bravo program: Long Way Round. For an agoraphobe like myself, the show is quite interesting. It also makes me want to be rich and famous so I can get corporations to sponsor my epic vacation.

And, just a general announcement: I will be in Austin for Thanksgiving. I will be giving thanks at the home of Jason Steans. Hopefully he will locate a table for us to sit at before we show up.

Gobble. Gobble.

If you're going to be in Austin, let me know.

I think Randy is getting married Saturday. Everyone cross your fingers and wish the little tyke the best of luck for the ceremony to go well.

Here is Randy with some girl. Let's hope it's the Mysterious M.

Randy, if you want a secret escape plan, I've planted a car near your house. Before you sink teh car into the lake, make sure you remove the passport and driver's license with your new identity from the glove compartment. Don't worry about the body in the car. You needed a body double, and that guy was going to die soon. I think.

Either way, best of luck, RHPT, or maybe I should say, Mr. Faizul Goldstein.

Time to get lowbrow.

Do not view this clip if you are of a delicate nature.

And, yes... a quick Google search will demonstrate that this was, in fact, a legitimate children's show. No, I don't know how they got away with it. I am sure it never happened again.

Interesting stuff online last night about The Incredibles.

Apparently Bard Bird isn't the comic book geek you'd assume he'd be from both The Iron Giant and The Incredibles. In fact, he didn't even know how close he was coming to the Fantastic Four. Instead, he developed the powers based more upon character archetypes.

Dash = 10 year old boy, which means a lot of energy to run around = superspeed
Violet = shy 13 year old girl = invisibility and invisible barriers
Elastigirl = moms getting pulled in too many directions = stretchy powers
Mr. Incredible = dad + former tough guy = super strength

Interesting enough.

The "review" I enjoyed reading was the one posted by The Beat!. Heidi had an interesting POV on the movie and pitches that this movie may have a darker underlying message and than you'd pick up on at a first glance. If you wonder where she's going with this (and maybe the name of the article is enough to get you to click over) is THE INCREDIBLES: From Nietzsche to Rand.

Anyway, read the review here.

Later this week RHPT.com and The Mysterious M join in holy matrimony.

The League has been married since April 28th, 2000, so The League feels entitled to shoot his mouth off about marital bliss.

Here are some pointers for folks about to enter into wedded bliss:

1. Just because you are married does not mean you are always going to enjoy the exact same things. It just doesn't. Jamie still won't help me with my mime.

2. While lying in bed, unable to sleep, do not begin toying with a plan for the perfect murder.

3. If by merging your CD collections you now have more than one copy of an album, sell duplicate copies. In two years, people are going to raise an eyebrow at your multiple copies of "The Soul Cages", for more than one reason.

4. You've got until death to spend time together. You have my permission to go off and play putt-putt on your own without feeling guilty.

5. Tell each other when you're paying bills.

6. Don't go to McDonald's.

7. A puppy or a kitten is not a child. Do not allow your spouse to begin calling themself "mommy" or "daddy" regarding a pet. Pets are more like idiot roommates, and treating them as children is weird and creepy. If you must have something to call you "mommy" or "daddy", it's easy to accomplish and I have a Barry White album which may speed the process.

8. If you don't like a certain genre of movies, lay down the law and insist your spouse find a friend to see that genre with. (I refuse to watch romantic comedies. Jamie hates westerns.)

9. Do not make up lengthy songs about any physical feature which the other person might feel uncomfortable about (big ears, bird toes, etc...) and then sing said song to to the other person each and every morning. This will lead to divorce.

10. Try not to point out really attractive people to your significant other.

11. Ask your spouse about their opinion on your selection of clothes and then go ahead and buy the same boring crap you've been buying since high school.

12. Dressing up the cat to surprise your spouse may seem like a good idea, but it just ends up getting you injured.

13. Call your spouse at least once a day from work.

14. When your spouse says "have you seen my shoes?" always answer "no" unless you can see them at that exact moment. Do not try to remember when last you saw the missing shoes. It was never important enough for you to make a mental note and you will never remember.

15. Tell your spouse at least one item you want for Christmas, because guessing is a complete bastard.

16. Don't bring up old nonsense in an argument. That's dumb and it always just makes the situation worse.

17. Don't go to bed angry.

18. Don't have kids. They're loud, they eat all the food, use all the money and they smell like syrup.

And that's it. That's my advice. Not too exciting. I guess my point is, just because you're getting married doesn't mean you have to compromise on everything and become a boring dud. Sure, to some point nature will make you more of a boring dud, but you needn't necessarily voluntarily become a boring dud. You can still do your own thing as long as it doesn't involve bigamy or bankruptcy or both.

Happy wedding, Randy and Mysterious M. Go out there and freak out the squares.

The League Reviews: The Incredibles

I feel terrible for the cast and crew working on Fantastic Four. Really. I feel awful for those people.

The Incredibles is not only an homage to the Fantastic Four, it also directly lifts powers and characters most closely identified with Fantastic Four. And it does it well. Incredibly well. So well, in fact, that I imagine that right now the producers and directors of the FF movie are probably having a meeting at this moment, trying to figure out how to salvage their very expensive movie.

Bottom line, this isn't so much a review as a suggestion you go check this movie out.

I was a tremendous fan of The Incredibles director/ writer Brad Bird's feature film "The Iron Giant", and, dammit, I still get a little weepy whenever I watch that movie. Iron Giant (returning to DVD on November 16thish) had some nice nods to superherodom, as well as working as a 1950's "Day the Earth Stood Still" type sci-fi homage. Anyway, check it out.

The Incredibles manages to take a concept which, even five years ago, might have been done with much, much more of a wink and a nod. It would have been a family movie with super-heroing deeds with lots of silly superhero jokes making fun of the genre tossed in (Mystery Men, I am looking at you). This movie manages to be a great superhero movie, while still keeping it a family movie at the core. But, make no mistake... this is a superhero movie with some of the most imaginative uses and visualizations of superpowers ever seen on film, TV. And I think it even outstrips the budgetless world of most comic books to some degree.

Most impressive to me were Elastigirl (NOT Rita Farr, Doom Patrollers) and Dash, who, for once, made stretching powers and superspeed look GOOD. And Mr. Incredible is no slouch, himself.

The character design is excellent, and seems to hearken back to late 50's - early 60's clip art. The look of the sets is a sort of vague post-WWII USA, mixed with AIM/ Bond-Villain style headquarters. Edna Mode's house/ HQ is amazing. The backgrounds are as lifelike as any of those utilized for the Star Wars films, giving the wonder of the Incredibles using their powers all the more "wow" factor.

The story itself is largely recycled material, but material which works well to make characters resonate a bit better for the adults in the audience. Hell, one could almost say this is the Dark Knight Returns of Mr. Incredible. Similar stories have been done with the JSA, and, coincidentally, the FF gets sued every few years, just to shake things up. There's also a hyper seven year-old, a wife unsure of what her husband is up to, and a shy teen-age girl who needs to learn how to shine to pick up the boy. All familiar, but all somehow work fairly well.

But, hey... how many of you REALLY expect to see brand new stories when you go to the megaplex? If you're like me, you're looking for the method of execution of those stories, and that's where The Incredibles really catches on fire.

I'd also say, if Disney and even Dreamworks want to learn something from the success of this movie, here's my recommendation. Note how may writers and directors were responsible for this movie. Even if it's not entirely true, Brad Bird is listed as THE writer and director of this movie, not a list of writers as long as your arm. This movie wasn't written by a committee, nor was it created by polling focus groups or trying to create characters which emulate "X-TREME!!!!" characters from soda commercials as Disney has been trying to do since Tarzan.

The story isn't 80 minutes, a length believed by Disney Execs to be the duration a kid can sit through a movie (and given how I felt about the last few Disney flicks, the length I wanted to sit through it). There are no cheesey musical numbers, there are no wise-cracking anthropomorphic side-kicks, there is no attempt at Robin Williams-style rapid fire delivery. However the heck they got this flick past the suits, they got it past the suits without that kind of repetitive fluff being tucked in, and that alone is worthy of praise.

Anyway, enough.

Is it obvious I enjoyed the movie?

I'd love to see it again a few times before it's condensed down to fitting on my TV.

Some other things I liked, a quick list.

1) The Edith Head of super hero costuming
2) Vehicle design was really inspired
3) Background design in all areas incredibly well thought out. Wait for Edna Mode's "living room"
4) Voice casting is perfect. Holly Hunter as Elastigirl, Craig T. Nelson as Mr. Incredible, Sarah Vowell (inspired, that) as Violet, and Elizabeth Pena as Mirage.
5) Not shying away from real action

Anyway, cool movie. Go check it out.

Oh, and the opening short, "Boundin'" was great. And it looked like they used North Phoenix for reference.

My only real complaint? I quit watching the UT/OSU game half-way thru to catch dinner and the movie. I left at half-time believing UT was going to get stomped. Ugh. Apparently I missed the best game all season. 49 unanswered points, was it? So unfair.

So, here I was thinking I had nothing to mention and today would be met with a news article or two, but voila! Star Wars.

As is well documented, The League was once a huge proponent of the Star Wars franchise. Star Wars wallpaper, Star Wars bedding, Star Wars figures lining the floor. Jamie was a bit irritated with the figures on the floor, so I started keeping them straightened on a shelf.

Star Wars was our mythology as kids. It surpassed Superfriends and Tron by a lightyear. This was the stuff we went to bed thinking about, and ran around the woods behind our house play-acting (eternal thanks to me mum, who got me an official Stormtrooper pistol for Christmas when I was 8. Best. Present. Ever.).

And it’s well documented how I saw Phantom Menace in the theater 5 times. And, sort of against my will, saw Attack of the Clones 4 times in two weeks (seeing both the opening night midnight show, and the next morning’s 9:00 am show, after which I went to work and stared mindlessly at my monitor for four hours before going home and collapsing. Thanks, Dan).

And it’s hip to say these movies suck. Because, you know what? These movie have a lot problems. They have an enormous "wow" factor, but they also have a lot of issues that adults are much more keenly aware of than kids. But maybe that’s why these movies work so well as trailers. The trailers are always amazing, culling the best parts out of context, and making you really believe that these movies are somehow going to save Western Culture, and getting you juiced up for a monumental letdown.

It’s tough to say the stories are incoherent, because that’s not really accurate. And it’s easy to say the acting is wooden, because it mostly is. The plot does suffer from a lack of expediency and occasional lapses of logic. And all too often, things occur because it would look cool, rather than because it’s a good idea or really follows internal logic.

But here’s why I'm posting on this at all, and it’s going to sound a lot like what I said about Sky Captain:

I want these movies.

Sure, I made an off the cuff comment yesterday about it being “more of the same”, which, arguably, it is. My first reaction was "oh, great. Another trailer which looks phenomenenal, but which is better than the actual film."

But more of this “same” is Star Wars “the same.” This is space opera envisioned on a scale most mortal minds can’t possibly begin to plot out and construct. Most writers and directors would NEVER try to tell a story so massive in scope, movie after movie. They would flat out tell you it was impossible to manage so many characters and so many character threads working through so many plotlines. Let alone, keeping a tangible backstory, introducing new cultures, creatures, and ideas with every change of scene. And maybe, maybe they’d be right.

I WASN'T nuts about Episode II, although I thought it was beautiful to look at, and had cool stuff. I almost got the feeling that this was the paperwork being done to set the stage for the upcoming movie. Does the new trailer look cool? Maybe, but I've lost objectivity, and I'm in a "won't get fooled again" mode. Episode II had things I loved (Slave 1 in the asteroid belt), but it had a lot of business going on that just felt like plot lines being distended.

In order to get his stories told with any efficiency, Lucas is painting with a broad brush, and I think that, more than occasionally, it leads to some missteps. I don’t particularly believe in the romantic character curve for Anakin and Padme (a case where less might have been more). I don’t particularly believe in Anakin’s curve as he becomes eeeevil (he seems like he was doing pretty much okay until his mom got whacked). But, we have another 2.5 hours of the story coming in the final installment, and a chance to tie up the threads. I can hold out hope that the character moments I’ve been longing for may yet materialize.

Since 1977 studios have been spending a lot of money trying to get another movie to capture the imagination of the public the way Star Wars did. They've been trying for the formula a million different ways, but, ultimately, it never works out. Instead, the terrain is littered with clunkers like "Last Starfighter", "Battle Beyond the Stars", "The Black Hole" and dozens of others. Until Lord of the Rings (a commodity proven a hundred times over before the latest screen adaptation) nothing else managed to place huge audiences in a world completely foreign to our own, but so easily understandable.

Short of Jack Kirby and Tolkein, I can’t think of anyone who has stepped up to the plate and even TRIED to tell a story with such wild ideas, and crazy imagination firing on all six cylinders. (A note: I thought about this after publishing, and there are countless sci-fi and fantasy novels which have done this. I'm being unfair. I could discredit the fantasy genre as just lifting from Tolkein, but that's cheesy and not true. And sci-fi continues to expand it's definition while telling sprawling, effective stories. I just really like Jack Kirby, so I'll plug him wherever I can. Don't get me started on TV epics and their need to feed the beast which led to the whimpering death of X-Files.)

Only Tolkein managed to cross-cut two or more major battle scenes at a time to create a climax this successfully (and, now, by extension, Peter Jackson). I mean, Sweet Christmas… from a technical and storytelling perspective, I can’t really think of anything more complicated than that.

The trailer gives us two warring Star Destroyers blasting away at one another in low-orbit? Droids flitting about on the surface of a volcanic planet? Tiny green space samurai getting serious?

If you told me the details of the trailer for Revenge of the Sith, and never tossed “Star Wars” into the sentence, I would be wondering where I could sign up to see this paean to sci-fi cool. I mean, throw in a monkey, and you’ve officially surpassed my criteria for paying to see a movie in the theater. What? You say there’s an army of monkey-people? I gladly surrender my eight dollars, sir.

I'm giving it a shot. Maybe not opening night this time around, but I'm giving it a shot. And I will say parts of the trailer DO look cool, but I'm not going to not be skeptical. At the end of the day, it's not just the elements which tell a story, it's how they're interwoven. This can be the coolest shoddy movie ever, or it can seal the deal as the Star Wars saga truly earning it's much hyped reputation.

Star Wars Episode 3?

Here's a trailer.

Yup, more of the same.

When people don't know Roman history...

thanks to Jamie for the link

If it weren't so badly sculpted and kind of creepy looking, I think this would be a fun novelty for that whimsical Republican in your family.

Here's Super-Action-Hero W.

I always told Jamie that when I die, I'm going to haunt her.

Well, now I've found something ten times more annoying than haunting her.

According to this article, Phoenix is now home to a company called Preserve A Life.

What does this company do? It allows you to stuff your dead relatives and keep them around the house.

This is so awesome, I'm totally at a loss for any good commentary.

Alas, this is a Halloween joke from the Phoenix New Times. Anyway, I hope it is a joke.

Here is the story (which seems like an exceptionally long article for a hoax).

And here's a web link.

Ehhh... Even if it were real, I'd probably still choose just to haunt Jamie. But there is a certain appeal to taking up couch space in the afterlife.

A little comic reading advice for you:

We3 by Grant Morrison.

Synopsis

Here is a PDF of some preview pages.

A preview to view, if you have broadband.

I guess Kerry conceded.

Quitter.

Where's my recount and lawsuits?

My sweater still smells funny, but I think it's because it's made of wool. I always think my sweaters smell funny. Yet I still wear them.

And, yes. It is actually cold enough in the mornings here to wear a sweater. I will change shirts here shortly as I may be outside for part of the afternoon.

My contacts also feel very dry today, so I've been doing this thing where I open my eyes very wide and then close them very tight, hopign to generate some extra moisture. It's not working.

I am very, very tired today.

I guess Bush'll probably win.

Not much else to say about that.

The sweater I am wearing smells funny, but I can't identify the smell.

A little election time blogging.

Sooooooo.......... Who you votin' for?

Just kidding. It's Presidential Election Day here in the USofA. I hope you aren't reading this unless you already got up, combed your hair and moseyed down to your polling place. If you already voted, good for you. if you didn't, well... why are you reading this? Get off your bum and go vote. NOW!!!

I don't know that this is the most important election of my lifetime. I think that will come into play in 2056 when we must vote for George Bush the 5th or Zilwork Blurgg of the Crab Nebula (I am sure his/her story of being the child of immigrant aliens and his/her 450 fellow nestlings growing up in poverty in New Kentucky will be very moving).

In short, I just looked at my practice ballot, and this election is stupid. There's only one party with any power in Arizona, and thusly, only one candidate with a chance for winning. I mean, I'm going to vote because I can and because I'm glad we're not all prisoner of the whims of, say... Barbara Streisand, but, you know... as those who know better would have it, I am so far outside the mainstream that I am out of touch with middle-America. That's fine. Middle-America and I don't always see eye-to-eye (I still don't love Raymond). It just kind of makes voting in elections out here a sort of fruitless effort.

Out of 14 total partisan races going down, 5 of them have a Dem running, 4 of them have a Libertarian, and 7 are either an unopposed Republican running or two Republicans running against only each other(1). But anything can happen. We do have a Democrat in the Capital as governor, so it's a crazy world.

I also thought I'd mention that we don't vote FOR judges, we vote against them. There are no NEW judges on the ballot, just fifty (50) items which read like this:

Shall Tipsy McStagger, Judge of Superior Court Division Y be retained in office? Yes? No?

I think this is one of those areas where I'm going to have to plead ignorance, because no matter how much I cram tonight with my little newsprint booklet, there is no way I'm going to know enough to make an informed decision here. And by the time I do know enough about how any of these judges operate, I assume I will be in jail and be unable to vote, anyway.

I assume judges are appointed and then fired by the populace out here. Which, you know, has a sort of poetic-justice mob-mentality charm I can groove on.

I probably should read up on who the two candidates are who dare to run against McCain for Senator here in AZ, but it's kind of like learning the starting line-up of the Washington Generals.

All in all, I project that I'll spend about five minutes in the ballot box.

Broken down, it will look like this:

10 seconds voting for POTUS
3 minutes voting on Propositions
1 minute writing my own name in on all other elections
50 seconds standing in my booth weeping with joy that this f**king ridiculous circus of an election is over and that either Ass-Clown #1 or Ass-Clown #2 will take office and hopefully not get me killed or rob me blind or let the rest of America get killed or robbed blind. I think that's a pretty low set of expectations I've placed on Ass-Clowns #1 and #2. I'm pretty sure they're both up to the job.

While I'm at it, I'd like Ass-Clowns #1 & #2 to also try not to do so much shameful nonsense during their terms in office that what they wind-up most famous for are the series of untruths to which they committed themselves. I'd like for Ass-Clowns #1& #2 to TRY to occasionally remember that not all of us love what Ass-Clown #1 or #2 wants to do with the world, and that we don't all work for them.

And, hey... every once in a while, we'd like to not feel completely ashamed of the decisions our Ass-Clown in Chief has made, and that every single moment of every day shouldn't be about covering your own ass. If you're doing the job right, it doesn't have to be.

And, I'd like Ass-Clown #1 & #2 to remember that we, as a nation, make a ton of babies. Seriously. Everybody I know is dropping a baby. And that... maybe... Maybe President Ass-Clown should know that what they do today and tomorrow is going to seriously jack with little Arden, little Isaac, and even little Nathan Jr. The shaking the babies and kissing hands bit doesn't have anything to do with what you're going to do when the chips are down.

Let me share a secret with you, Mr.'s Ass-Clown #1 & #2...

History is going to judge you.

Really.

No matter what you do today for whatever reason, history is going to be different from the spinning of media and the lobbing of sound bites. It's going to wait and see what happens, and then it will make up its mind whether or not you dropped the ball. Sure, there'll still be pundits in all sorts of camps, but the connect-the-dots picture is going to be hard to argue. History will have nothing better to do for a few hundred years after you croak than to pry open your coffin and dig through your sock drawer for the juicy bits. All those lawyers and press secretaries and secret service guys and whatever else you're up to... it's hard to maintain when you're pushing up daisies and trying to keep the centipedes off your nose.

Hindsight is 20/20. By what shakes out, by what happens eventually, that's how you'll be remembered. Nobody ever went into the White House with anything but the best of intentions. Nobody ever went in trying to leave the country weaker or poorer. Nobody ever went in wanting to leave the place worse off than when they arrived. History won't care what you said, but it will care what happened under your watch. It won't care about platitudes or espoused ideology, but it will care where we were four years after you started.

Now, why did you want that job again?

So, Loyal Leaguer Madi H. has hit us up with a proposal and a dilemma. Leaguers, it sounds like the League is finally going to do what it set out to do: Answer the questions which plague you.

- = ?

Madi's request came in this'a'way.

I want to post a poll on your blog. Specifically I would like any opinions on the following scenario: If a guy asks a woman out and does not pay, should she never go with him again, or give him another chance?

My brother, who is a notoriously cheap bastard, had this to say:

She should ditch him. He is either:

a) rude
b) clueless

Either one is not a good sign.

And I'm prone to agree! But, I recall a conversation I had with some co-ed classmates of mine in college who stated that: if a guy tried to pay, he was insinuating some control over the relationship already, and they would immediately ditch the poor sucker.

I pointed out that they were probably missing out on a lot of decent guys who feel it is polite to pay for someone else's good time when you request their company.

So, what is it, Leaguers? Pay, no pay? Should Madi forego love because the guy is a miser? What if he's just too progressive for his own good? What if he realized all too late he only had a 10-spot on him?

Having been with Mrs. League for the better part of a decade, I have no idea what the rules of dating are these days, and I certainly can't speak on how to maneuver out there in the post-college world. But I watch a lot of TV, and I think I know how these things work.

Anyway, pipe up and help a Leaguer out. Tell Madi what you think.

ROAR!!!


Bearing the same dazed expression Jill wore through high school, Arden Hermann-Wilmarth roars his way into Halloween.

Halloween Report:

Hello all.

I was Fat Green Lantern for Halloween. Upon reviewing photos of myself for this year's costume, next year I will stick with fat Elvis or Fat Albert or Fatty McFatterson. Or, the wife of Jack Sprat.

Anyway, here are some nice photos.



Jamie carved a delightful Kitty Pumpkin. Little girls were especially fond of this one.


I carved this pumpkin. It ended up looking like Stan's clone go wrong from the first season of South Park. It's a happy coincidence and I'm proud of my mutant creation.


Here is a rough idea of what our house looked like. We were going to sit on a beach towel, but this turned out to be a real hassle as kids kept expecting for us to get up to give them candy.


Here is Jamie in her bee costume. She takes a nice picture, that bee does.


Here is a pic of your blogger (who has never before published his own photo to the site, I might add), hanging with Mel. I am the one with the power ring.

I am happy to say we had dozens of visitors, all of whom were very sweet. We had one Superman, one Batman, about five Spider-Mans and a herd of ninjas, ghouls, witches, and Britney Federlines. Also, I am delighted to say many, many people identified me as GL, both parents and kids alike. I think the lady across the street thought I was sporting some demonic symbol until I told her I was "one of the Superfriends".

Hope you all had a Happy Halloween.

Now, it's Turkey Time.

HAPPY HALLOWEEN!!!!

And a week that came in with Ashlee Simpson shall go out the same way...

Check out this photoshop contest.

thanks to Jim D. for bookending my week!

Our grand Prize Winner: Madalina Hinjosa, for telling a story both frightening and stomach churning

Halloween Spooky Stories: DAY 5, PART 2

by Madi

The Taco Bell Tolls For Thee

At first glance, there's nothing Halloweenish about this story- it's
set in Hawaii on a beautiful summer's evening. But my magical evening would be turned upside down in an instant of pure horror.

Before I went to Hawaii, I was told of the abundant delicious food I would sample everywhere I went. My mouth watered imagining fresh mangos, pineapple and coconuts. However, when I arrived I found that everything is hella expensive in Hawaii. Since I preferred to spend my money on souvenirs, I carefully rationed out grocery store fare and starved my way through the days. (I have to confess, I did toss a couple of baloney slices off the balcony to feed the feral cats that lived at the hotel). No worries, though; I was in Hawaii after all.

One night, I picked up a plate of nachos at a Mexican fast-food restaurant
on the island. I only ate a little, since they weren't very good.

Nevertheless I was unwilling to throw a morsel away. I put the leftovers in the trunk of the rental car so that I could get back to the shops nacho-free.

Later that evening, I opened the trunk and picked up the container AND COCKROACHES CAME POURING OUT!

For more great vintage Halloween cards, check out this story at RetroCrush.

HALLOWEEN SPOOKTACULAR STORIES
DAY 5

Editor's Note: Jason (The League's older and less handsome brother)sent in two entries. The first one is posted last, the second one is posted first is descending scariness.

First Stories

My current home in south Austin once belonged to an elderly lady who bestowed it upon her grandaughter in her will. When I was closing on the house at my realtor's office, we had a quiet moment during which I attempted to make some small talk with the woman selling the house.
"So, is there anything I should know about the house that no one's told me?"
I was kind of thinking of plumbing problems or faulty electrical work.
"Well, it's haunted."
"Uh, what?"
"My grandmother used to live there and she died in that house. She's a friendly ghost, but she likes to open and close things and make noises. We're trying to take her with us when we move, but we're not sure she'll go."
"Uh...."
"Oh, it's ok. She'll leave you alone as long as there are good vibes in the house."
"Ooookay."
I've been there almost a year and a half, and so far, no sign of Grandma. Friendly ghost or not, I think I'm kind of glad. Still, I try to keep things positive at mi casa in order to avoid hassles from Grannie.

I had more problems at my last place. To my knowledge, my apartment at the edge of Travis Heights had never suffered the death of a resident or any other calamity, but as with most apartments, the place had an anonymous history that could seem a little creepy in its own right. Especially because weird stuff would happen there.
On at least 3 occasions, as I was lying in bed and trying to get to sleep, I would swear I heard my name spoken aloud, not in a shout or a whisper, but in a quiet speaking voice. The first two times this happened, I lept out of bed and ran around the apartment with my lacrosse stick in my hand, turning on all the lights. No one was ever there.
The third time this happened, I just pulled my pillow up over my head and tried to get to sleep. I was roused from bed a few minutes later by the sound of Calvin and Hobbes, my 2 pet ferrets, going crazy in their cage. I crept into the other room, and something big and black swooped down at my head. I screamed like a little girl, and grabbing a wine bottle, turned on the kitchen lights.
In the vaulted upper corner of my living room, a large black grackle sat perched on a picture frame and staring down at me with it's little black eyes. It screeched and I screamed again.
I opened the front and the patio doors, and it cirlcled the room a few times, screeching some more and flapping before flying out.
I checked the fireplace, but the flue was closed and the firescreen shut. To this day, I have never figured out the deal with the voice or the bird. Tripped my gourd, though, let me assure you.

Second Story

Hey. I know some scary stories. Remember that time we were watching The Exorcist at like 3 a.m. and it was thundering and lightning outside and you went to look out the window because you thought you heard a noise and you saw your own reflection and you screamed like a little girl and you stumbled backward over Mom's lamp? Oh wait. That's more of a funny story.

How about the time you emailed me a photo of your ass? That was scary.

In all seriousness, I do have one. Eric, lead guitarist and vocalist for the Mono Ensemble, has a harrowing tale passed on by his wife, Stephanie. One rainy night in Austin, Stephanie woke from sleep believing that she had heard some kind of strange noise in their kitchen. She tried to wake Eric, to no avail, and she went to investigate herself. Finding nothing in the kitchen, she assumed that one of their pet cats had made the commotion and she went to the refrigerator to get herself a drink. Standing in the dark, the only light in the room cast by the light of the ice box, she heard a noise and turned to see a young, pale boy with hollow eyes and a white shirt standing by her counter. She screamed and turned to look as Eric came running into the kichen to see what was the matter. The kid was no longer there and Eric was left standing in the kitchen looking on, bewildered.

Stephanie learned the next day that a teenage kid who ran with some of their family friends had OD'ed the night before and died after breaking into a veterinary clinic to steal tranquilizers. The kid had died in his family's kitchen and had been wearing a white, button-down shirt.

One more cheap shot at Ashlee Simpson!
(courstesy of doug)

The new Ashlee Simpson iPod!

A while back, Jim D threatened to send me a crate of comics in the mail. I had begged him not to send anything as League HQ is even now working out an emergency plan to liquidate old comics which we know we will never read again (anyone want a run of Uncanny X-men from issue 160 - 300?). But th nonetheless, the box arrived last evening, and is filled with interesting stuff. The comics he sent along are a fascinating assortment, and all very new, so I'm surprised he wanted to dump them so quickly.

Most satisfying (and the only issue I had time to read) was that he'd sent along Astonishing X-Men in which Colossus returns.

Leaguers, I fairly much quit reading X-Men when they killed Colossus about six years ago, and if it weren't for the acid-trip, pop insanity of Grant Morrison's New X-Men (which managed to feel more like speculative fiction/ sci-fi than the usual soapy melodrama of the X-titles), I'd have never have picked up another issue. Well, now my favorite Russian comic character is back, and I have the issue to prove it. But this is Marvel comics, so it's entirely possible that Colossus is a clone or an alien replicant or something. But, I'm giving Petey the benefit of the doubt.

Anyway, thanks for mailing me what might have amounted to your garbage, old chum! You sent some great stuff along!

And in the: You can't make anybody happy category, the new batsuit for the Christian Bale starring Batman Begins is now being ridiculed by Batfans everywhere.

You know what, comic fans? Gray tights with blue underwear on the outside probably ISN'T the most effective crime fighting ensemble, so I'm not REALLY sure you're moaning about.

Anyway, here's the suit.



There are a lot of complaints that it's no better than the previous Batsuits, but I'm not sure there was really anything WRONG with the previous batsuits. Maybe the guys inside the suits, and the movies around the suit... and, sure... I'd have loved to have seen Batman in a gray body suit... but I also understand what looks good in comics might not look so good on film.

Let the debate begin! And, no bat-nipple comments. THose were already well-covered by the comic nerds.

Halloween Spookiness with The League: Day 4

by The League

In 2000 or so I literally saw an unidentified flying object. The guy I was with also saw it, but we wrote it off as a weather balloon.

But hauntings? Nah. Not really. When I was in second grade we thought a house which was for sale in the neighborhood was haunted. Back then, we would sneak into empty houses before they sold (yeah, even in Houston in Cypresswood back in the 80’s, not everyone locked every door), trudge around, and sneak out. We had rules about not doing any damage, and so we never got caught.

And I don’t know if someone saw something, or we heard something or what… but we knew something was in there. A week later we learned that there was a raccoon in the house which attacked a realtor. Which is funny, but not scary. And we’re all lucky we didn’t wind up with rabies.

After we moved from Houston to Austin, it was reported my dad (who was and is still alive) was appearing as an apparition in the kitchen of our former home. I’m a skeptic of this particular haunting. While we lived in that house, I don’t remember Dad ever appearing in the kitchen except to get a piece of cheese out of the fridge. No, if Dad was going to haunt something back then, it would have been the recliner. They would have seen a ghostly newspaper floating in the air, occasionally telling them to pipe down and clean up their Legos.

After that, I don’t remember much in the way of ghosts popping up in my life. Justin L. told me his front room was haunted by the ghost of a lady who had died there. Apparently she used to run her hands over her jewelry in a porcelain dish beside her bed. At night, he said, you could hear the sound of metal on porcelain, clinking around in the front room.

In college, like 3000 of my closest friends, I moved into Jester dormitory, the 14 story monstrosity designed by a former prison architect. Not long after moving in, I realized that Jester was/ is, in fact, alive. And it was trying to kill me.

Anyone who lived in Jester knows that the building is enormous. Just my tower was 14 floors of more than 90 residents per floor. Not to mention classrooms, a cafeteria, a creepy basement, study lounges, piano lounges…. The building has stood for only a few decades, but I think, and this is my theory, but I think that so much STUFF happens in Jester, that all of that… stuff… leaves a sort of residue. The building has come to expect the overworked, overstressed, oversexed, sleep deprived, emotionally distended lives of 18-20 year olds for so long that… you know… when the building sits empty like it did over OU weekend, that being alone in a building you can hear breathing…

Sounds would materialize and dissipate, occasionally you’d see someone you didn’t know pass by in the hallway and stick your head out and they’d be gone…. All easy enough to understand, I suppose.

And at 4:00am, I wandered out into the elevator lobby, hearing a strange, persistent sound, metal on metal… the elevator doors standing ajar, the elevator a floor below, and when I stuck my head down the shaft to see what was going on, the elevator suddenly plummeted in free fall, the doors to the shaft closing almost upon my head.

And then one night when everyone has left for Dallas for the big game or gone home, or has ditched for the weekend, you’re looking down the hallway, and you’re shouting “Is anyone else here?” because you think you hear music, but you can’t tell from where, but nobody answers. And there’s something in the hallway, and it’s already upon you, and it’s not that it’s creeping up on you, because now it’s surrounding you and seems to almost be giving off a tangible hum, and its density is growing, and…

Danny isn’t here Mrs. Torrence…

Aside from that, I don’t have any real ghost stories. I got attacked by the Creature from the Black Lagoon once, but that was more irritating than scary.

Halloween Entries, Day 3 Part B

child produced by Jill Hermann-Wilmarth




Arden gets pumped for Halloween. Check him OUT!!!! That kid is looking forward to a Tootsie Pop. Luckily, I believe he has no teeth to rot.

Haunted Tales of Halloween: Day 3

by: Maxwell


I generally try to avoid ghostly run-ins. I'm very
committed to the idea of not seeing a ghost, but
nonetheless I've had a few spooky experiences in my
time. My roommate and I were convinced that our
apartment in Austin was haunted even though we never
saw anything substantial. Once in a while I might
catch a fleeting glimpse out of the corner of my eye.
We didn't mention it, but sometimes people who stayed
with us picked up odd vibes. The apartment was
relatively new, in one of those complexes with a pool
over on Oltorf, not typical scary stuff, but for all
we knew someone had died in the place. The worst of
it was, no kidding, sitting and typing on my roommates
computer, I always felt like someone was behind me,
watching me. I cannot abide people reading over my
shoulder, so the constant spine tingling, hair
pricking at the back of my neck made it difficult to
get any homework done. There was a closet in her
room, and when you sat at the computer your back would
be to the closet. It felt like someone was waiting,
watching, always coming from the direction of the
closet. I wrote a couple of creepy plays at that
computer.

At the end of the day, we just tried to chalk that
unnerving feeling up to bad feng shui.

The only experience that I haven't been able to
explain away happened in the house I grew up in, right
in Cypresswood. Maybe all kids go through a time when
they think they're houses are haunted. We thought so,
even though our house was new. After Poltergeist
came out we speculated that perhaps the house was
built on a graveyard. In all honesty, there were
times when I would be upstairs in the room furthest
away from the stairs, and would feel the driving need
to get out, run NOW NOW NOW down the stairs to be with
people.

One particular night when I was about seven or so, I
woke up and couldn't get to sleep. I was getting over
a cold and I had been sleeping all day, and even
though it was now just past midnight I wasn't tired.
I was lying in bed with my back to the door. My
mother came in. I heard the door open and saw light
pour in from the hallway. I can't remember if I saw a
shadow. I felt my mother come and stand by the bed,
leaning over to turn on the light on my nightstand. I
turned over to say hello, complain that I couldn't
sleep, but no one was there.

I froze, immediately terrorized to paralysis. My
first thought was that I was dreaming, but a few quick
pinches confirmed that I wasn't. The light that had
not been on before was now on. The door to my room
was open. Then I thought, "Mom must have come in and
turned on the light, and I missed her." I didn't
move. I couldn't move. I just waited and waited
until finally I went back to sleep. The next morning
my light was still on. I looked to see if maybe it
could have turned itself on, but it had a dial switch,
the possibility of self illumination
didn't seem likely. I asked my mother if she had come
in the room to visit me, turned on my light. She
hadn't. I asked my dad, he hadn't. I asked my
brother. He hadn't, either. He was also four, not
yet capable of pulling a scary stunt.

Whatever the presence was, it didn't seem initally
frightening. Just terribly invisible. As far as I
know, it has never returned.

THANKS, SCIENCE!!!

Look, Jason! Now you can have a kitty cat of your very own!
-Mrs. League

AN S.O.S. for RHPT for his Day of Bliss

Last week, soon to be wed Leaguers RHPT and The Mysterious M, made a plea via rhpt.com

Randy, you see, would like some help selecting tunes for his impending wedding reception. I understand the music during the wedding is taken care of, so he's looking to fill the air at the reception with tunes.

Randy has made a plea to his readership, begging for some help in selecting mood-setting music, but unfortunately, Randy is learning what The League learned long ago. The readership of the average blog is made up of completely unhelpful bastards.

Now, despite the fact that Randy has been pouting in the corner and refusing to help out with The League's past few interactive bits, I thought I'd step up to the plate and see if I couldn't think of some tunes everyone can enjoy. I listed four songs, and it's now in Randy's hands to make his decisions.

But, here's the deal, Randy's bastard-filled readership has otherwise refused to comment. And I am certain some of those bastards are even going to be at the wedding.

Now, it's one thing to tell someone to stick it in their eye on a normal day, but when someone is asking for help with their wedding... Leaguers, you legally have no option but to help them. So pop on over to Randy's site and make a suggestion. And, no... don't make it gross.

THANKS, SCIENCE!!!

If you read this blog, you know that scientists work tirelessly to find new ways in which to play God and to create an unstoppable AI bent on the destruction of all human life.

It appears some eggheads have devised a quasi-artificial brain that sort of makes decisions and stuff. Which is interesting from a Blade Runner/ Isaac Asimov sort of standpoint, but terrifying from a Magnus, Robot Fighter perspective.

The only good side to this I can see is that pretty soon humanity will know it's fate as we all bow down to our robot masters. All hail UNIVAC, MIGHTY CONQUEROR!!!

(That's right! you heard it here first! The League was the first to get on board and officially recognize the evil cyborg intelligence as undisputed ruler of Planet Houston. We bow before your might, oh Great Univac! We ask only that you grant us your mercy and, if it befit you, that you may bestow upon us Lynda Carter, for which we promise to serve you well and carry out all of your malevolent wishes.)

The League must once again point out that it was The Beat which located this information first, and in a much more humorous manner.

If you want to know why I won't be posting for a few nights, it's because this just arrived.

My favorite new comic character I'd never heard of before last night? Captain Compass.

Halloween Entry: Day 2

by Nathan Cone

Alas, I have no scary stories to impart, unless you count horrifically scarring incidents from childhood. So my entry will fall into the costumecategory.

When I was young, I chose some particulary peculiar costumes. Oh, therewere normal years, for sure. I dressed as Batman when I was five. And in 1980, when "The Empire Strikes Back" came out, I went as Luke Skywalker (in the beige outfit from the Bespin sequence).

But pre-kindergarten, I remember going as a T-Rex one year (which was one heck of a costume, and I have the Super 8 film to prove it). Another year, I went as an Exxon gas station attendant, complete with pinstriped uniform. The guys who worked at the Exxon station on the corner of Kuykendahl & 1960 even gave me a cap and name patch to complete the look. Still earlier than that, I went as a traffic light. That costume was pretty much a big whitecardboard box with a red, yellow, and green dot on it. I also went as a motor one year. Yep, a motor. I don't remember how we pulled that one off.

And now we arrive at the attached photo, which was taken just outside the front door of the Cone household, a little later in childhood, probably 1981 or 1982. Obviously constructed in haste, this costume begs the question"Guess what I am?" [editor's note: I have no idea, either]

And is it just me, or does looking at Ashlee Simpson make you wonder what Jessica Simpson looked like before the nose job?

AshleeGate: The Story Which Just Gets Better

Randy sent this little tidbit along from MSNBC.

Ashlee's manager/ father (the combination of which explains oh-so-much) on the incident:

“Just like any artist in America, she has a backing track that she pushes so you don’t have to hear her croak through a song on national television,” Joe Simpson told Ryan Seacrest on Los Angeles radio station KIIS-FM. “No one wants to hear that.”

I like how this family operates. EVERYONE does this. EVERYONE. Oh, and she had a tummy ache and never did it before. And it was the band. They played the wrong song... and... and...

And apparently the Simpson family has not learned a simple truth in American culture: if you ignore something and refuse to feed the press with quotes, etc... the issue will go away, and in two months, people will have a hard time trying to remember whether it was a dream or if it really happened.

You know, when Ashlee Simpson was just a small time act, playing bars and clubs, selling demo tapes for $5.00 out of the trunk of her own car, you know... paying her dues... she didn't need a back up track. Ashlee Simpson, is it possible you've sold out?

Read the story here.

As mentioned above, Ashlee Simpson had a little problem on SNL Saturday night.


Ashlee Simpson blames her band for a mistake the technician with the DAT made. Meanwhile, Jude Law is embarrassed for the both of them

And because Ashlee Simpson represents everything dumb about the music industry, The League is doing its part to make sure this snafu gets as much coverage as possible.

Intrepid Leaguer L. Denby has located not only the photo above of Simpson making the situation worse, but she's also located the video of Simpson both (a) inadvertently revealing the man behind the curtain and (b)showing no talent for improvisation.

In addition to the video above, here is Simpson drawing attention to the problem instead of just hoping it will go away.

CNN.com jumped in on the snafu here.

For those of you keeping track:

1) Simpson's first song on SNL went off without a hitch.
2) Her second song began playing
3) Simpson wriggles uncomfortably on-stage. I am told this is her dancing, and not some further gaffe.
4) The lyrics to her 1st song began to be heard over the top of the second song.
5) The hands of the guitarists do not seem to actually move from about 00:04 on the timeline to 00:24. Meanwhile, music is playing.
6) The vocal track cuts out
7) Simpson dances terribly
8) Band looks uncomfortable and thanks God for their over-styled anonymity
9) Simpson disappears from stage
10) go to commercial
11) a few lame skits. Want to find Bear City funny. Impossible.
12) end of show curtain call. Jude Law says something about "live tv"
13) Simpson blames band for playing "wrong song" which means one or more of the following:
a) The band has never before rehearsed with Simpson
b) Simpson's voice is an intangible force able to appear and disappear without her moving her lips/ originates from her belly
c) Simpson cannot improvise and sing one of her own songs when cued by her own music
d) Simpson has hired a magical band which doesn't need to touch its own instruments in order to produce music
e) Simpson thinks owning the DAT makes you part of the band
f) The ability of the band to play should not outweigh the OC'ness of their hair
g) Simpson is a shitty liar
h) Simpson doesn't know when to quit
14) Simpson's career completely unaffected as her pre-teen audience rationalizes the incident and angrily attacks those pointing out why Ashlee Simpson sucks
15) Maybe being the sister of an untalented singer doesn't qualify you as the next queen of rock n' roll

1000

Halloween Spooky Tales! Day 1

By Jamie McBride Steans

Ok, I'm going to attempt to write a Halloween tale for you. You kinda put the kibosh on anything ultra creative by insisting it be true.

The house I grew up in, a 2 story with large attic and basement, was built in 1905 (Aught-5!) by early Lawtonian William H. Quinette. This was a great house for kids and my older brother and I spent hours playing in the vaulted-ceilinged attic (complete with large wasp nests and large wasps) and three roomed basement. The only place I refused to go was the storm cellar, which had no light and to my recollection harbored a spider convention.

When I was about eight years old, my dance instructor revealed to me that when she was in high school she had been friends with a girl who used to live in my house.

Dance teacher: "You know it's haunted, right?"
Me: "No it's not."
DT: "Yeah, the guy that built the house died in the master bedroom. [Dance teacher's friend's name] saw his ghost on the front stairs once."
Me: "No she didn't"

But it was too late. Even though I didn't believe in ghosts, my dance teacher had successfully managed to totally freak me out. For five full years not once did I use the front staircase after dark, terrified that I would meet face to face with old Bill Quinette. For five years after that I would only use those stairs on occasion at warp speed (yes, I did this well into my teens. shut up). I never did see a stupid ghost and it's a miracle I did not fall and bust my ass on the stairs while fleeing the imaginary Mr. Quinette. Maybe he liked us and didn't want to scare us away. I can only hope he appeared to greet the next owners after they felt it necessary to paint my old room orange.

ROUGHLY 1000 POSTS, AND STILL ABSOLUTELY POINTLESS

This is the 998th post on The League. Can you believe it? Sometime tomorrow, I reckon we'll be at 1000, depending on how funny the news is.

In reality, we've already passed 1000. In the beginning, I almost gave up the ghost a week or so in. Luckily, Jim D. was there to slap me back to my senses, AND he still had my postings in his cache. I reposted, and I think if you look, my "first day" of posts is about a week's worth.

So 1000 postings. Should be cause for some sort of celebration, but, instead, it kind of makes me feel a little weird about all this. I mean, I've probably got 2-4 times more posts than most bloggers who've been around a similar duration. And my readership is still completely unknown. That, and it's actually a little bit of work, and ain't nobody paying me to do it.

The hits I get come mostly from people either looking for nude photos of Ann Coulter (a creepy past-time, not to mention... do you REALLY think anyone ever got their hands on nude photos of Ann Coulter?) or else they come from IMDB.com. Jim tends to take my posts regarding movies, TV, etc... and then do my legwork for me, linking IMDB back to The League.

The rest of my hits are either people looking for images I happen to have, the occasional creepy search for "ryan steans", or "melbotis". But at least 50% I have no idea who they are. If it weren't for the comments section, I'd feel I was completely howling into the void.

So where does the League go from here? I have no idea. More of the same, I'd guess. Probably less Britney Watch. That's been unpopular.

I guess you can continue to expect a lot about Superman, comic books, movies, TV, Superman, Arizona, Austin, Superman, the cat, the dog, parental visits, Superman, Halloween, Christmas, bad lunches, bad pop stars, Superman, etc...

As always, Loyal Leaguers SHOULD be the driving force behind The League of Melbotis. We aren't shy, and we certainly welcome topics of all shapes and sizes. So, you know, if you have a topic you'd like to see batted about here, speak up.

I do feel bad there wasn't some profound 1000th anniversary post, but, you know, I've been busy and this kind of snuck up on me. Maybe on the actual third anniversary.

So as a sort of 100th post anniversary thing, let's see how many of you will pop up in the comments section and say "aye". I'm just curious about my readership.

The Weekend in Review (post 997)

So, let me start by saying Garfield: The Movie really, really sucks. Really, really, really sucks. Even my planned cackling at the career dips of Breckin Meyer and Jennifer Love Hewitt didn't pan out. I mean, I just... felt... sorry for them. They looked permanently stuck in a toothpaste ad.

The truth is, Garfield can't really withstand a review, because I really don't have enough time nor do I know enough words to eviscerate this flick properly. But suffice it to say, look... this movie, like so many adaptations, had nothing to do with the original material. And one wonders, short of fulfilling a contract with Jim Davis, why on earth this project ever received the green light.

I laughed exactly once during the 80 minute movie, and that was Garfield's homage to Apocalypse Now's "Never get off the boat" scene. The movie sort of half-lifted the story from "Here Comes Garfield", but took so many turns for the worse, you'd really have to know what you're looking for to draw the parallel.

Clearly the film's producers had two ideas in mind in making the movie (1) children's movies are so idiot simple, characters should in no way be funny, or interesting or developed (2) Whatever made Finding Nemo, Shreck and Toy Story so popular with adults and children... let's do the opposite and make sure the parents' brainwaves only become engaged when counting product placements (and for the Daddies... whenever JLH appears in a tiny dress).

The final scene of the movie looks like a demo real showing Garfield dancing. And this was the second time I laughed. By this point, the movie had broken my spirit, and it was either laugh or cry.

"It... it just... sucks... so... bad"

This weekend also has marked the arrival of the Christmas Season. I saw my first Christmas present commercial this evening on ABC Family (yes, I am watching "The Hollow"), and then they ran an ad for ABC Family's 12 Days of Christmas. So, 2 Christmas commercials in 30 minutes.

That isn't to mention that the lights are going up on Mill Avenue, or that Bath & Body doesn't already have up its Christmas display.

But this is Halloween Week, and so I've been trying to keep it Halloweeny up in here. In that spirit, we watched 1932's Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. Which is way creepier than I remember the version I read as a kid being.

Also, the in-laws were here. We watched some football, got lost in downtown Phoenix, and spent a few quality hours at the Arizona State Fair (turkey leg.... mmmmm).

And did anyone else catch Ashlee Simpson go into meltdown on Saturday Night Live? man, if there were any justice... But, of course, nobody will care. is it any surprise she's lip synching and playing with a band which clearly hates her? Bwah ha ha ha ha

And Jim e-mailed me story of interest to Texas Exes.

TEX is being retired.

It's a little like hearing the dog you played with in college died. I'm kind of sad about it. Sure, registering online is 10x more efficient, but where's the thrill of the hunt? Where are the 7:50 A.M. alarms so you can roll over and start calling? Where's that screaming, "F**k you, TEX!!!! F**k you!!!!" when you can't get your class? Where's the shout of "whoo-hoo!" when you do get it? Man, the kids today will never know.

DAMMIT!!!

Did I care if John Kerry or W were here for the debate last week? No.

But how could I have known that by avoiding the debate, I would accidentally sidestep the greatest interview journalist of the last 20 years?

Click here to download a series of interviews on Spin Row at the Tempe, AZ Presidential Debate.

This takes a while to download if you aren't on a high speed connection. And if you aren't on a high speed connection, GET WITH THE 21st CENTURY, YOU TROGLODYTE!!!!

Thanks to Jim D. for the link.

Okay, you lazy bums!

One last outstanding call for Halloween-themed stories!

I have only three stories submitted and cooling in the freezer.

THREE.

The only thing scary about this contest is how my flagging readership refuses to participate.


Elvira knows submitting a story to The League is the patriotic thing to do. You don't want to be un-American, do you? Well, do you?

Look, I know a lot of you are putting a lot of extra pressure on yourself and thinking your story won't be scary or funny enough or whatever. Well, by jiminy, we think you're plenty funny and plenty scary, so quit psyching yourself out, roll up your sleeves and pound out a tale on the old keyboard. We're a-waitin'.


The Crypt keeper at last year's closing grand-prize ceremony. He over-dressed and ate all of the brownies.

The deadline (which is today) is greatly flexible, and we will be taking stories right up until Halloween. But, Leaguers, the idea is that every day when you click on over to The League all week next week, there's a fresh story awaiting you, and getting you in the spirit. Now, that story could be YOURS!!! And you know you've got a creepy tale in you.

Did you cross paths with a black cat? Did an old gypsy woman put a curse on you? Did you see something which, even after all these years, you still can't quite explain...? (and, no, I'm not talking about The Magic Johnson Show).


That this is thriller, thriller night
'cause I can thrill you more than any ghost would dare to try
Girl, this is thriller, thriller night
So let me hold you tight and share a killer, diller, chiller
Thriller here tonight

So click on over to the guidelines for the contest and follow them or don't follow them. Let's just get some interaction!

Here is a photo of the guy they cast as Superman for the upcoming Bryan Singer directed film.

As long as Routh's voice doesn't make him sound like Urkel, and Singer takes the time to make sure he's nailing every scene, I am happy. I am especially happy that they didn't cast anybody under 6'0", nor some flavor-of-the-week actor to bring in the 14-year old girls.

Singer was able to make two X-Men movies work with only a handful of name actors, and those flicks made a star out of Hugh Jackman.

I heard Topher What's-his-name from That 70's Show might be up for Jimmy Olsen. Personally, I think after seeing him in Traffic, it would be a good choice.

Here's to hoping nothing awful happens to Bryan Singer before production ends.

Hey all, Mrs. League here. Blogger is totally pissing me off today. First it copied my post over the Leagues and then when he reposted, my post went away. Grrr.

Let me try to remember: I wanted to appologize to Jim D. and RHPT -- obviously I do not hate you and I acknowledge that RHPT had little to no involvement in the Garfield incident.

The League's post about my hatred of Garfield is wrong and he knows better. We have often shared childhood memories of the cool cat and every time we visit parents-of-the-League's house I can be caught reading old copies of Garfield books 1-10. I was quite the Garfield fan in my youth, even collecting the fabulous "Garfield's Nine Lives" and Garfield telephone.

What I was upset with was the movie, which is different. This character bares little resemblance to the lovable fat cat we grew up with. And I was content in the knowledge that I would never have to view this shameful piece of crap. But last night, as GCI Garfield struck a pose on my kitchen counter and the League exclaimed "Awesome!", my stomach dropped. Leaguers, I am doomed.

Okay, this was posted earlier, but due to Blogger working in mysterious ways, I lost the post. So, below is an edited version of the post from early this morning.

Regarding Mrs. League's protests and pronunciations:

Before anyone runs off thinking Mrs. League is evil and vindictive, I just want to congratulate you on your astounding insight.

No, no, no... I kid because I love.

My explanation for the post above is as follows:

Mrs. League has always had it in for Garfield. League archives reveal a troubling visit to the the McBride household years ago when The League and the Impending-Mrs. League were but starry-eyed kids.

I don't know what started it, but I was sitting at the kitchen counter drinking coffee and reading the Lawton Constitution, and the McBrides went, jointly, into a tirade regarding both The Family Circus and Garfield.

The League sat in stunned silence. You see, The League always secretly loved Garfield (but decided The Family Circus has outlived it's usefulness in 1977). The League used to have Garfield books strewn about his bedroom, an Odie doll perched atop his "Return of the Jedi" bedspread, and owns, to this day, the vinyl to the Soundtrack to Here Comes Garfield (the title song of which is sung by the amazing Lou Rawls).

It didn't seem like a big deal at the time. The League kept his mouth shut, and let the McBrides air their Garfield related grievances. He thought, at the time, that this really wasn't worth breaking up over. At least, not until he got home again.

And through 5 years of marriage, The League has kept his head down, only occasionally fessing up to thinking Garfield strips were really, really funny back in about 1978-1983.

But Mrs. League... Mrs. League has it in for Garfield. We don't know if its the lasagna bit (which still kills, by the way), or the fact Garfield hates Mondays, or that he won't eat raisin toast or Garfield's hilarious fear of spiders. We don't know.

The movie was oddly NOT a polarizing moment. Mrs. League hates Garfield anyway, so hating the movie was a logical extension. The League was upset to see the strip sucked dry, its simplicity tattered, and Odie not looking remotely like Odie. And the League kind of wishes plagues of locusts upon both Breckin Meyer and Jennifer Love Hewitt (even as he wishes to ogle Ms. Love Hewitt).

So, RHPT and Jim D, please do not take Mrs. League's moment of rage personally. Its just that you have brought an unspeakable evil into her house. An evil which The League's morbid curiosity will surely force her to endure. While The League is aware RHPT and Jim D did this primarily to taunt The League, Mrs. League knows the League's capacity for enjoying awfulness all to well (see the multiple viewings of From Justin to Kelly). And she knows that the DVD player is housed in a central location at League HQ, and she will not be able to escape. No matter how hard she tries.

So, once again, thanks to RHPT and Jim D (or, as I am learning, mainly Jim D) for their generous and unexpected gift. The League will at least enjoy ogling Ms. Love Hewitt, even as she delivers a less than stellar performance in what is sure to be a crap-fest of a movie.

In the meantime, we will watch the film and try not to think too hard upon what might have been.

Mrs. League on Jim D. and RHPT:

"I hate them. I hate them so much. I hate them down to the marrow of their bones."

Pause

"And you can quote me on that."

Well, goodness, me. But quote her, I have!

Now, what would draw the ire of Mrs. League to such a degree? Well, Leaguers, after Tuesday night's wild goose chase in the front yard of League HQ looking for a package Jim D. insisted should have arrived, this evening I arrived home to find a box awaiting me on my kitchen counter.

And what was in that box? What drew such venom from my lovely wife?

My friends, The League is now a proud owner of the DVD of Garfield: The Movie!

Yes, Leaguers, RHPT and Jim D. have conspired and pooled their hard-won money to see to it that The League spend the requisite 90 minutes groaning his way through this summer's schlockiest money-grab. And Mrs. League is all too aware that The League IS NOT one to suffer alone, nor in silence. So soon enough, The League, Mrs. League and all of The League Proper will be sitting down for a showing of Garfield: The Movie.

Watch this space for updates.

Special thanks go out to Nathan Cone, who used his NPR connections to get me a copy of the story from This American Life from a little bit back.

The story detailed the life of a Seattle-area man who likes to dress up in a Superman outfit in his spare time. I had actually read about this guy at some point a while back. I think he'd been profiled on The Superman Homepage about a year ago.

I'm not really sure what to think about the story. I think the journalist went out there with the best of intentions, and did the story as much justice as he could. I mean, what are you going to say about a guy with, let's face it, a recent tragedy in his life. And how he reacts is by putting on a suit?

But, you know, isn't that what always happens in the comics?

I found the story fascinating, and as much as I think the Superman guy needs to talk to somebody (a counselor, anybody), he's trying to work through his life in the only way he knows how.

Anyway, thanks again, Nathan!

Okay...

The League's brother has sent in a true tale of Halloween horror that might.... just might... be enough to keep you from sleeping at night. And it doesn't involve the time he wet himself in 10th grade.

BUT.... all I've got are two stories. Two! Surely The League's readership has surpassed two.... but maybe not.

Here's a gruesome tale for your pre-Halloween fun. After not having been to the gym in untold weeks, inspired by RHPT.com, I returned last night. Holy crap, is it easy to get out of shape quickly.

Is the cute criminal chick from ABC's Lost the new Lois Lane?

The League throws its support behind this casting decision. It is much better than many of the names which have tossed about in the past two years.


Lost's Evangeline Lilly

Thanks to Maxwell for drawing this uneasy comparison


Sesame Street's genial gameshow host, Guy Smiley


Massachusetts' genial senator, John Kerry

BRITNEY WATCH!!!!


I've actually learned to say "NO!" With this newly found freedom, its like people don't know how to act around me. Should we talk to her like we did when she was 16 or like the Icon everyone says she is?

hell, yes.

Read the letter here, ya'll.

Ms Federline is now officially biting the hand which feeds her, and her wilting self-doubt barely taps the unchecked insanity which she has been force fed since 1999.

Unintentionally turning on her fanbase, and the entertainment pseudo-press in one poorly structured sentence, Ms Federline had this to say: My prerogative right now is to just chill and let all the other overexposed blondes on the cover of Us Weekly (magazine) be your entertainment.

Her prerogative? And, yes... she did, in fact, just cover the late 80's Bobby Brown hit. Will she see the path Whitney and Bobby took as an admirable one, or the Scarface-like ridiculousness it has become?

A note to Mr. Federline:

Dear Mr. Federline,

Will you please quit teasing us? Please cut to the chase and ask Britney to cut off all contact with her family. We all know this will happen, and we do not have even 4 months to wait for it. Please expedite this step so that we can reach your ugly divorce as soon as possible.

Sincerely,

The League of Melbotis


Britney continues her own letter, appealing to, I guess, Hilary Duff: It's amazing what advisors will push you to do, even if it means taking a naive, young, blonde girl & putting her on the cover of every magazine.

Clearly Ms. Federline has visited the Wallace Theater by my house, which is little more than a temple to Duff.

The League wishes Ms. Federline an enjoyable vacation, and expects that, when done chillin', her legion of 12 year-old fans will have placed themselves in carbon freeze so as to ensure they do not move on to the next blonde pop sensation, nor shall they emotionally or intellectually develop to a point where they may not enjoy Ms. Federline's musical stylings.

I leave you with this bit of theological insight from Ms. Federline, whose wisdom knows no bounds... Truly, He works in mysterious ways.

I know now that my knee gave out on me this past summer so that I would have no choice but to stop. My body was shutting down and needed rest. It's funny how the Man upstairs works. Right now, I have to go-- I really want to watch "Saved" with Mandy Moore and re-runs of "Sex and the City."

MUUUUUWAH HA HA HA HA HA HA HA



John Kerry... madman or genius?

Hey!

Is this guy the superhero who is going to fill Christopher Reeve's red boots?

We have no opinion on this guy here at The League, but every word we hear about Singer's take on the new Superman movie makes us more excited. It sounds like a genuine continuation fo the Reeve-starring Superman films, complete with a crystal-based Krypton and Fortress of Solitude.

I wouldn't start putting hard money down on this guy getting the role. After all, dozens of names have been floated. But if this guy IS the selection... well, fine. Looking forward to hearing more details.

Slow weekend here at League HQ. Movie watching, etc... was the word of the day.

Spent Friday night remembering Christopher Reeve with a memorial viewing of Superman. It may be the 50th time I've seen that movie, but I can watch it from beginning to end every time. Even the "Can you read my mind..?" section in the middle.

I did take time out to see Team America on Saturday, but I'm not going to bother to review a movie which is already being reviewed so much in so many places that, honestly, I knew too much about the movie going in. As much as I DID laugh, I think I would have laughed harder if I hadn't been told so many of the punchlines ahead of time. Stupid reviews.

I did feel lonely... so lonely... in the theater, as I am not entirely certain the other folks in the theater were enjoying the movie. Specifically, the group of high school boys sitting behind us. I'm not sure if they 1) understood the political context of some of the jokes, or 2) the trappings of action movies which Team America was having fun with. I mean, yes, some small bits of this movie do require you to know who folks like Hans Blix are. Its not all just funny puppet sex.

Well, Jamie and I thought the movie was funny. And we have been singing the Team America theme song around the house (America, F**k Yeah!). It's that kind of movie. And, by jiminy, I'll be picking up the soundtrack.

I also watched The Bourne Identity this evening, which was okay. Matt Damon (MATT DAMON!!!!) is pretty good. And that girl (German-fake-Claire Danes) was okay. And I always like Chris Cooper, and should try to find Matewan on DVD sometime. I'm actually very curious to see the sequel, The Bourne Supremacy.

Altough I don't exactly recall seeing this exact movie plot before, the beats were that of a by-the-numbers actioner, and there was something complete ridiculous about the romantic subplot. I will say, the flick did leave some interesting questions in the air at the end, so I'd like to see how they resume the storyline in Part Deux.

And you know who is a powerfully mediocre actor in The Bourne Identity? Julia Styles. Man, there were chairs with more presence in that flick.

After a two month delay, I finally finished The Rise of Theodore Roosevelt, of which I figured out I had only fifty pages left to go (the rest being notes and appendices). I have Theodore Rex on tap, but I think I'll wait a little while. I need to read some fiction which is not comic book related.

And I watched a documentary on the 1931 version of Dracula, as well as the 1931 version of Dracula with the audio commentary overlaid. Both were terrific. I love my Universal Monster movies box sets. I need to read Dracula as I've never read it. Maybe that's my next book. I'll see if I can find a cheap hardcover at Barnes and Noble. They always have junk like that out at Christmas.

Anyway, after weeks and week away, I've been inspired by RHPT to return to the gym. That, and I want to be able to crush those who oppose me when I go to Oklahoma for Christmas.

hey, Leaguers...

CALL FOR ENTRIES TO

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

TOYS THAT SHOULD NOT BE: HORRIFIC HALLOWEEN EDITION

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.

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.