Hurray! Travis Mays returns to UT!

I used to think this guy was the bee's knees.

Folks trickling in from Jim D's site: I welcome you and apologize in advance.

I also apologize for all the type-o's. My mum's a teacher, and she'd be sad if she thought you believed I cannot spell.

For those of you who don't know Jim, I went to college with Jim D. This is a photograph of Jim in his swankier college days.

Superman #204 hit the stands yesterday, and I can't encourage Loyal Leaguers enough to get on board Superman with this issue.

Holy cats.

I had been very excited by the previews DC had posted on their website, but the preview doesn't actually show what's in #204. Sure, the dialogue is the same for the first two pages, but it's actually different art. It's a greater establishing shot. I'm kind of curious to know what happened and if the art will turn up again... But who cares. Superman #204 rocked my socks off in a way the other two (very nicely done) relaunches have failed to do.



Brian Azzarello is better known for his crime-fiction, and the story will be the largest "whodunit?" in comics in a long time. Indeed, while Superman was lending a hand to Kyle Rayner Green Lantern a million miles from home, something happened back on Earth. Superman returned to discover that about 1 million people were missing. Just gone. Among the missing was Lois Lane, intrepid reporter for The Daily Planet and wife to Superman.

Anyway, the story has almost no action. It's a huge prelude of things to come. But the art is phenomenal, and the writing is excellent.

You can wait 18 months for the collection to be released, or you can jump on-board now. I know what I'd do.

Speaking of Green Lanterns... Looks like Hal Jordan will officially be DC's boy in green once again. I like John Stewart, myself... But that's mostly based on only the cartoon of Justice League and a brief run called Cosmic Odyssey and a few good issues of Joe Kelley's JLA. We'll see what happens.

An old co-worker of mine was just accepted to the Cannes Film Festival...

Karen Skloss and I worked together at the Instructional Media Lab (now the FIC) at the University of Texas. She was lead editor and cinematographer on a few of our projects while I was there. I knew she had talent, but I am ashamed to now admit we got into a row or two over editing decisions. Clearly, she is now more in the right than I. Karen, wherever you are, I am sorry i wanted that pan shot cut.

Karen is an A+ kind of person, and I am thrilled to hear about her success.

Irony of ironies... Karen is not a grad student in the RTF department. She's a Fine Arts grad.

UT RTF let's one more slip away....

Further proof that we are two nations separated by a common language... just read the headline my friends.

The article is very interesting, too. Thanks to my wife for the link.

Today is the 4th Anniversary of my wedding to Jamie McBride Steans.

We got married on a lovely Friday afternoon in South Austin under the watchful eye of many of our friends and loved ones and some random friends of my parents. Jamie was amazingly lovely, and the whole thing mostly went off without a hitch.

Here's to four great years of me being the luckiest guy on earth.

Everyone wants to be naked and famous.

I got a post-card in my mail-slot at work today for some sort of drama camp being held at my employing university. It looks like it's for middle-school or high-school aged kids, and is designed to aloow them to try out their acting chops in an environment other than the annual Christmas Pageant (I, myself, am a three-time veteran narrator of the Christmas Pageant. I was not allowed to narrate anymore after I flubbed the phrase "Prince of Peace" during the horrid production of "The Christmas Alphabet". There are a lot of letters after P, and X wasn't even included, so it wasn't much of a play. But I sure saw those angry stares from the parents when I screwed up "Prince of Peace". Which made me start laughing. Which made my brother start laughing. Which made Todd start laughing. Which didn't help with the angry stares. And I thought Christmas was supposed to be merry...).

At any rate, the post card shows about five kids of varying ethnicities pulled from some pay-per-photo website. They might be singing. They might be yelling. I can't tell. I kind of don't like kids, so I didn't pay too much attention. What caught my eye was the phrase, "Where every child is a star!" Parents: That is physically impossible. Not every child is a star. The world if full of us chorus type people. And if your kid stinks, your kid stinks. furthermore, Parents: just because your kid is an obnoxious lout, doesn't make them the next Katherine Hepburn. Trust me. And, no... there's no such thing as precociousness. It's almost invariably obnoxiousness through the filter of parent's doting eyes. And then it becomes obnoxiousness which receives positive reinforcement, making it all the worse for the chorus kids.

Can little kids be good actors? Sure. I guess. And so can chimps and dogs. Even Dolphins can act, if you've seen Flipper.

But the point is, not EVERY child is going to be a star. A lot of kids will go to camp and end up way back in the chorus, or play "shopkeep #5" in an atrocious rendition of Hello, Dolly! (I am actually reminded of a former co-worker of mine who told me her 5th grade class performed MacBeth. I said "God, that must have been awful for your parents!" and she said "No, we were really good." To which I said "You were 10. Whether you knew it or not, the best you could do is memorize your lines." To which she insisted "well, we were in the gifted class." To which I said "Weren't we all. It sounds like a freaking nightmare. I pity your parents." To which she said "Well, kids at my school were probably smarter than at your school. This was in Philadelphia." Which pretty much went against everything I ever knew about Philadelphia, but I let it drop.)

Now there's nothing wrong with kids doing drama, or adults doing drama. And I don't want that confusion to play out here. But the point is: iWhere Every Child Is a Star!

Which got me thinking about Reality TV. It's fairly easy to see the connection and if you see where I'm going, stop reading now. Reality TV is the long-awaited dream of all of us untalented chorus people. It's the final resting place of the morbidly un-cast to be famous for being famous, to let dignity and due process fly to the wind. It casts off any preconceptions about skill, or working for years before getting a break, or having talent. It's your chance to fulfill the highschool popularity contest of being universally known and loved just for existing.

But, like everything else, this stardom is fleeting. Just the length of the season of the show, and then someone even nutsier comes along on a show you never heard of before. But by then you've got an agent, you've ditched your girlfriend and moved to LA to have a go at making it in the movies (which, honestly... you know jack-shit about...). You get a role in a commercial playing a pre-scripted version of yourself (who is kind of an ass, but it's hyperbole for TV, right...?) and then... VH1 calls to ask you about how bitter you are because you're not in the next Spielberg picture the way you hoped... and can they put you on camera to talk about it? Well, says you agent, it would be good for your exposure (which is limited to the local bar right now). So, yeah, go ahead. 15% of blood money is better than 15% of nothing.

And forget about the kids who go to LA and are starring in movies like "The Sopornos 18" a year or two of bad decision making after their arrival. Or the sea of people who don't happen to have fathers and mothers who can get them a job... Or the demeaning role of "chubby girl #2" or the best story they have is that it turns out Alan Thicke can be a real moody bastard on set...

We want our kids to be famous. We want them to be known and harassed and stalked and photographed and adored... screw it if their only skill is showing their teeth when they smile...

And if they do become a star, they decide you abused them and sue you for all you've got once they turn twenty-one and meet a coke-head stripper looking for a handout. Hell, if the story is horrific enough, you can get on VH1 and talk about with out without a 15% representation fee. And, hey... that makes you semi-famous, right..?

it now appears that there are at least two images circulating through the internet of Iraqi children posing with a jolly US soldier, all of them giving the camera the Fonze.



The League suspects these formerly oppressed miscreants have no deep love for The League.

Stir up controversy in your own home!

I have to admit a fondness for MTV's globe-trotting "nature" program Wildboyz.

While I am sure that the good folks at PETA probably flip out at the very notion of putting an animal on camera without a signed consent form, the folks at PETA should really give the show a second-look... because the primary attraction of Wildboyz is getting to see grown men mauled by wild animals.

Steve-O and Chris Pontius from MTV's gleefully brain-dead Jackass have taken the show on the road, and decided to involve the peoples and animals from across the world. No longer content just to ride grocery carts downhill into a brick wall, Chris and Steve-O swim with man-eating sharks, get bit by toucans and get zapped by electric eels. Really, the show is an investigation into all of the aggressive tactics of animals you've heard about, but never got a chance to witness at the zoo. Luckily, Chris is not above poking a jaguar to see if it IS the dealiest cat alive.

Granted, Wildboyz is deeply rooted in the scatological (and here, my PETA friends, you may quit reading before you bust an artery). Steve-o is pee'd and pooped upon by elephants, and Chris might use his thong as the location where he's concealing feed for a guinea hen. And, of course, the male nudity. Neither Chris nor Steve-O will wear much more than a thong, given the chance. In some cases (like when they jumped in the water with a Great White Shark) they've had on even less.

Have I learned anything from Wildboyz? I have learned that Chris and Steve-O should be dead about fifty times over, but somehow live on, with all of their fingers, toes, ears and eyes intact. I also have learned that undomesticated animals WILL in fact attack you in pretty much the worst ways imaginable (see last nights episode with the Sloth Bear incident), and your crew will stand off camera and laugh as you get really messed up.

The amazing part of the spectacle is that Chris and Steve-O go back again and again. It wasn't enough when they dressed up as two parts to a zebra and ran across a veldt in front of hungry lions, only to be mauled. No, next episode they plan to test the stories surrounding the electric eel by standing in runnign water and grabbing electric eels.

I won't watch The Swan, but, God help me, I will watch these two guys get beat up by every creature on the planet.

Suddenly I'm a tremendous fan of NASCAR.


click on pic for a larger image from over at Superman Homepage

Seems Hot Wheels is sponsoring some races. I guess I need to be on the lookout for Justice League themed Hot Wheels cars. And all this after today when, while at Target, I picked up what Jamie called "Rock 'Em, Sock 'Em Green Lantern".

All I know is I want to ride in whichever car Wonder Woman is getting in.

I am hoping Mel will soon have a buddy.

Yesterday when i got home there was a bit of commotion in the backyard. I went out to check on my flowers (which, given the state of the yard, are kind of wildflowers), and I heard my next door neighbor chatting with my katty-korner neighbor over the fence.

Still, I figured I wasn't going to stick my nose into their business. Eventually, I did, in fact, stick my nose into their business because, Leaguers, that's what The League excels at. My next door neighbor, Eric, is about 7' tall. He's really, really a great guy... he just happens to be able to see me all the time over the fence. Eric, perhaps due to his stature, is a big fan of Great Danes. Hence, he has a very sweet puppy named Lacy who is somewhat larger than Jamie. Jamie really likes Lacy, but Lacy is a very shy dog and only rarely says "hello". She ALWAYS looks alarmed when i wave to her over the fence.

Lacy has a boy dog over. Apparently Lacy is being bred, which is kind of exciting. Eric and Annette really take care of their dog, and they're big dog people who know all the different details of raising one and all the details about the breed etc... However, two dogs + cinderblock fence + excitement = some blocks fell out of the fence. Whoops. It appears Lacy and her beau took a few blocks out while saying hello to the neighbor kids.

Eric was telling me what was going on, and expalinging he was breeding Lacy, and I blurted out, "If it goes okay, we want a puppy." Jamie was not in earshot, so I quickly said, "Jamie can be convinced. Let me try."

So when Jamie came back to the fence to look over and see the boy doggy, I quickly said it again. "If it goes okay, we want a puppy. Right, sweetie?" She kind of looked nervous. "They're so big..." (seriously, even at 116 pounds, they dwarf my buddy Mel). "No big deal!" I answered. "You'll love it!"

Eric looked concerned about our eager acceptance. "We don't know what color they'll be. Tehy could be either fawn or brindle."

Jamie shrugged. "No big deal. We just like the doggies."

So we may, maybe, maybe, might be getting a Great Dane puppy.

Obviously I don't know the former Arizona Cardinal who fell in Afghanistan. I learned that he played ball and received his degree from my employing University.

“Pat Tillman was an outstanding ASU graduate who understood that we are in a global war, and he volunteered to be part of that,” said ASU President Michael Crow. “He fully understood the risks, yet he went to defend his country, and he gave up his life. Pat was an extraordinary young man who brought credit to us all.”

Flags are flying at half-staff throughout the university and the state. As plans unfold for special remembrances of Tillman at ASU, an announcement will be made. Crow and the university community send their thoughts and prayers to Tillman’s family and friends throughout the country.

Just noticed the name of this show. A few Leaguers may find this amusing.

You know, after one long night at Club De Ville, I had a similar experience.

So, upon viewing the trailer for New York Minute, Jamie turned to look at me and said:

You know, Eugene Levy is turning into the Samuel L. Jackson of comedy.

She couldn't be more right.

I used to work with Sheldon at UT.

He let me play around the nuclear reactor and he used to buy me lunch at Mother's. An all around square-G, and I guarantee you, he's not happy about all this.

oh, my virgin ears...

I am quite a-twitter that this is going to be in our national archives forever and ever and ever. And I would have loved to have been in the meeting where it was decided what could and couldn't be said.

"How about the c-bomb?"
"Oh, that's on the list."
"Fart-knocker..?"
"Get real, man."
"Well, we have to put fuck on the list, because my mom STILL has conniptions if she sees Eddie Murphy on TV. Even after The Nutty Professor..."
"Oh, fuck is definitely a-number-one on the list."
"Shit?"
"After 10:00, it's not a big deal."
"How is crap different from shit?"
"Man, shit is waaaaaayyyyy worse than crap."
"How so?"
"It just is."
"Okay, put shit on the list. We'll take it off later if we change our minds."
"Piss?"
"You've got to be shitting me."
"No. I think we need to add piss."
"How about pee-pee. Can we still say pee-pee?"
"Absolutely. Pee-pee is endearing. Piss means, you know... it's bad and stuff. Babies pee-pee. They don't piss."
"Asshole is on."
"Oh, man, yeah."
"Butthole."
"You just don't get it, do you..?"

THanks to Randy for this tidbit:

Batman and Robin in the UK?

I suppose it's much easier to emulate Batman than Superman if you're going to go ahead and do the whole cape thing. It would be far less impressive to just see Superman jogging off after, say, opening a jar of pickles for you. Forget about trying to do Green Lantern or The Atom.

I almost forgot.

So I'm having lunch with this group from work and a woman I used to work with from another team, and we're talking about the local eateries, and I mention... "hey, yeah, I try not to go to [large chain corporate restaurant] too often. I'm just burned out on it."
"I won't go to [large chain corporate restaurant] either," says Michelle.
"Burned out?"
"No."
"Sick of their food?"
"No. I'll tell you when we finish eating."
So i assume it's a barf story, or a story about something she found in someone's plate, or something fun like that.
"No," she says. "My husband went to the bathroom, and he came back white as a sheet. And I asked him what the problem was. And he said he found a dead guy in the bathroom."
"A what?"
"A dead guy. Apparently the guy had shot himself in the head just before my husband walked in. So he saw.. you know..."
"Oh my God."
"Yeah."
"So we had to sit there while they pretended to help the dead guy, who was pretty much dead... and then we watched him get carried out on a gurney."
"You have to wonder," my co-worker said, "How he got the cat in there."
We all stared at her quizzically.
"It wasn't a cat," Octavio offered. "It was a guy."
"Oh, well, that makes more sense," she nodded. "I thought you said it was a cat in the bathroom, and I couldn't figure out how you would get a cat into a [large chain corporate restaurant]."
"And so we're walking out the door," Michelle continued. "And the hostess is still asking How was everything?, and the other hostess is, like Shut Up! They're the ones who found the guy in the bathroom!"
"So, did you ever find out what had happened?"
"No," Michelle shrugged. "He had been drinking at the bar a while, and then my husband found him."

So, Leaguers, a little morbid thought for the next time you're feeling like heading down to your corner [large chain corporate restaurant].