Trailer for Death of Superman

The trailer has been released for the upcoming straight-to-video DVD release of "Death of Superman" or "Superman/Doomsday" or whatever they're calling it.

The copy written for the VO on the trailer sounds like it came from the desk of a WB Home Video intern, or else the studio totally missed the attempt at retro trailer copy with lines like "See! The Amazing Superman! See! Him Perform Amazing Feats!" Anyway, I think if you just look at the footage itself, it looks pretty cool.

It looks like the story has been greatly altered from the comics, cutting out all of the extra storylines and, it seems, dumping the "Rise of the Superman" storyline, which leaves the "Return of Superman" storyline in some serious doubt. But he does come back with the Super Mullet, and that's got to be good.

OWEN JEFFERSON PEEK: ROCKING THE FREE WORLD

I have not yet seen the little nipper, but Jeff (aka: Peabo) and Adriana Peek are now the proud parents of a wee little man. I don't have any details yet, and I'm awaiting some sort of "all hands proud poppa e-mail", but I do have a voicemail message telling me that there's an additional Peek onboard spaceship Earth.

So, The League of Melbotis formally welcomes young Owen to this groovy thing we call life.

Congratulations to Jeff and Adriana, Phyllis, PK and Adriana's parents (whose names I do not know).

Ann-uh-ver-sur-ry

Saturday (today) marked our seventh wedding anniversary. Hooray for us. I'm sure we've now defeated some statistical challenge regarding our ability to remain married. (The secret, you ask? I'm on a steady regimen of vicodin and Jamie is allowed one free punch, head or gut, once a week.)

So, we were unable to get a reservation for Saturday at our restaurant of choice, so we went out Friday. We got married at this place called "Green Pastures" in South Austin, and it's not a bad little place, so we went back for our anniversary dinner as we'd done once upon a time when we used to live here prior to Arizona. The place costs an arm and a leg, but that's okay. The food is phenomenal, service excellent, and Green Pastures has a lovely atmosphere. Plus, I was in a good mood as it seems like many of the risks we took in picking up stakes from Arizona are panning out. So I think we were celebrating that as well.

As I mentioned, the place is a bit pricey. And it took us a while to get seated (we were given cocktails and the staff kept talking to us, so we weren't just sitting there. It was nice.) But I think they were a little concerned we were unhappy before we ever sat down (we were not). So, apparently, when I said "Salmon" to the waiter, he believed I said "Sampler", referring to their Game Sampler. And he panicked a little, but... as The League is up for new experiences (some of which meet with mixed results and angry letters) we gave the waiter a pass and went with the Game Sampler.

So to celebrate my seventh wedding anniversary, I ate Bambi and, I think, a quail. I dunno. Anyway, it was lovely.

Today we were going to try to go to Austin's annual party in the park, "Eeyore's Birthday". Yes, for those familiar, Eeyore's Birthday is the dirty hippy party at Pease Park. But we wanted to do something outside today as it was lovely out, and we wanted to hang out with the dogs. With this plan in mind, we were between breakfast and heading out when Jamie kicked the wall. Jamie kicks lots of things in any given day, but today she was trying to kick a tennis ball for Lucy, missed and did some internal damage.

We still made it to dirty hippy park party, and Jason posted some pics, so here you go. What you can't see here is Jamie getting hit on by some 19 year old dudes. That's two for two weekends. Anyway, all i heard was Jamie say "It's a boy, his name is Mel."
To which her young suitor replied, "No. What's YOUR name? Heh heh heh..."
To which I turned around to see what was going on, and saw the 19 year old, who saw me (and, I assume, Jason) staring back, to which he gave us a "Whoop. My bad." and went on his way.

My wife is in demand. I am hoping she is flattered.

Unfortunately, as we were leaving, Jamie began to show signs that her foot was hurt and had a tough time getting to the car.

So tonight we were going to hit a small party and then possibly go see "Aqua Teen Hunger Force", but as we rested up post-dirty hippy party, Jamie began complaining loudly about her foot. I mean... loudly.

I knew that she was under the impression that her foot was broken (I had my doubts), so off we went to the ER.

I can't tell you how much better the Austin ER is than the ER situation in Phoenix. I think it's a mix of Austin having a greater number of medical facilities per capita, and that people here don't seem to go to the ER unless they think there's really something really wrong. You do not see people walking in with minor symptoms. Like the guy who fell off his motorcycle who came in right before us. That dude was really ragged up.

Unlike the Arizona ER, they also not only had three tracks (fast track for things like broken feet which are a straightforward diagnosis, cardiac track for people who might die immediately, and everyone else), but appear to have a much faster process for getting people from the waiting room to the ER. It was kind of impressive.

Anyhow, Jamie's foot is NOT broken, so we can all be glad about that. She was given a big boot to wear, crutches with which to walk, and a shot of pain killer to make the night groovier.

She's now gone to bed. After being in a really chipper mood thanks to Mr. Pain Killer.

So happy anniversary to us.

Seven years. I'm a lucky guy, Leaguers.

Leave the Gun, Take the Cannoli

So while I was at work today, apparently the owner of Clambake Jake's called my house. Jamie took the call, but for some reason picked up while she was asleep, so she was a little sketchy on the details.

You kind of have to think that this fellow is not real happy with The League right now. We're coming up a little high on the 'ol Google search when one looks for his restaurant online, and our commentary was full of opinions. And that makes me feel a little bad. After all, Cannoli Joe's is a new place and they're trying to make a buck. And The League isn't out to put anybody under. We have our opinions, and we feel entitled to them, but we also think it's OUR opinion. Go get your own.

Anyway, apparently we're now in one of the sites that pops up when you Google Clambake Jake's, and that puts me square in the sights of an irate restauranteur. I may wind up buried in the end zone of Giants' Stadium.

I'll keep you posted.

How to leave The League speechless #215

courtesy: Chris's Invincible Super-Blog

PLUS: This story on why the Batmobile may be more trouble than its worth.

NAME PEABO'S KID

Hey, Leaguers. In less than 24 hours, Peabo and Adriana will have a new human being to watch over. An as yet unnamed human being.

So let's help out this kid.

Now taking suggestions for names. And, yes, it's supposed to be a boy.

My suggestions:

Grand Funk Peabo
Grover Cleveland
Vincent Young
William Travis
Stephen Austin
John Wayne
Thomas Jefferson
Flipper
Mr. Pinchy
Ryan J.
Susan
Coolio McGuillicutty
Grimace
Alfred E.
Boris Yeltsin
Red Lobster
Bruce Wayne
Kool-Aid Man
Carl Edward Walls IV
Sinestro
Richard Milhouse
Tonto
Timothy Duncan
Dwayne Wade
Stretch Armstrong
Joseph Montana
Cobb Salad
Ishmael
Cobra Commander
Star Scream
Moose N. Squirrel
Nehemiah Deuteronomy
Job Habakkuk
Grandmaster Flash
Whelan William


That's it. I've got no more in me. You help out.

Tonight we dined IN HELL!!!

So when we were moving in, I noticed that someone was putting in some sort of new building on the Lamar/290 frontage road just north of Brodie. Sort of an odd location, but forward thinking as that whole area by Burger Center is turning Sunset Valley into a little economic engine like nobody's business.

Anyhoo... this winter I noticed it was going to be an Italian place with the dubious name of (name redacted by agreement w/ restaurant owner. It's a long story). The outside was brightly painted, indicating that it was a tiny Italian villa. I'm not sure. I'm usually going 50 over there, and I don't usually slow for such things.

This evening we were considering tacos at Serrano's by 290, and I recalled there was the new restaurant on the other side of the road. "Let's try Johnny Clambake's..." I announced from the back seat (Jason sat in front and Jamie drove). Of late, I've acquired my mother's ability (or inability) to recall proper nouns, but go ahead and assign them a name I feel works for me. (We did not watch Saturday Night Live. We watched Saturday Night Alive! We ate at Chick-a-Fillet. Yet she knew who all the Star Wars characters were. It's odd.) Jamie swerved in and out of lanes as we tried to decide where we were going, and finally we settled on Johnny Clambake's.

Upon pulling into the lot we noted that the place was an all-you-can-eat buffet. Never a good sign for a promising meal, but even The League tires of tacos upon occasion, and so we decided it would be a bit of an adventure, to pioneer Johnny Clambake's and be able to say "Oh, yes, I ate there. Oh, yes."

So the entry way at Johnny Clambake's was really pretty nice. Obviously designed to hold a great number of waiting diners, but not quite as EPCOT-ish as Olive Garden, but not exactly what one might think any self-respecting actual Italian would recognize as Italian. Heck, even a self-respecting Italian-American.

I knew we were in trouble when, as new customers, we were offered "the tour". The tour took up through "Il Vilagio" which really was an odd buffet line broken up into various ideas about one might want to eat. Anti-pasta, salad at one end. Dessert at the other. All nicely appointed. And the food didn't look like middle-school cafeteria food, but they also weren't shy about moving you through The Vilagio as quickly as possible. "And it's all you can eat!" the tour guide insisted four or five times, just in case we were worried we might not get our money's worth.

And then the tour took a curious turn as we were lead past several "dining pods", you might describe them, down a hallway, past the restrooms, and I suspected we'd be out by the dumpsters when we emerged in a new dining pod with about fifteen tables. The tour guide then directed us to the table crammed into a corner, directly next to the only other occupied table in the pod, complete with kids crawling right up on to the table. Luckily, not Jason, Jamie or I were too shy as we stepped on each other's words requesting a table across the room. Actually, I think Jamie wandered over to a table and Jason said "we'll sit there."

The dining pod was painted a nice shade of fancy-dining room red, and covered in reproductions of art you kind of maybe thought looked like something that was supposed to be nice (including an 18th century picture of hunting dogs), and gave off the illusion that one was somewhere okay... but the little plastic standee on the table then announced our meal would be $13.00 a head. This did not include $2.00 for a drink.

"Let's go," I said. "We can leave."
"We came here for something new, let's try something new."
"Okay," I agreed. But I knew... Hell, Golden Corral is about the same price. I don't know what I expected.
The tables were also all squeezed remarkably close together, which was part of our decision not to sit next to the kids. It would have been like sitting at the same table. But the dining pod was mostly empty and we decided we were far enough away. After all, Jamie loves to drop the f-bomb to punctuate dinner conversations.

Also, Johnny Clambake's had this weird table inventory system visible at the entrance to each dining pod. It looked like a security grid, but included a touchscreen interface so the tour guide could determine which tables were sat. I wanted to monkey with it, but feared retribution should I be caught in the act.

After placing drink orders and having to witness the tour guide do some paperwork to note that we'd changed tables (no, reallY) we wandered back out into the winding maze of (editor's note: name removed to protect the innocent meatball manufacturers). "If this place caught on fire," I said to Jamie as we squeezed past a patron going the other way, "It would be a firey deathtrap." The hallways were ADA, but they were hallways in a buffet restaurant. Where people must get up multiple times and get food (now, you could be reasonable and get one plate of food, but who would do that? Not the Steans Boys, I tell you that much.). Luckily the place was sort of slow, but I had horrible visions of Saturday night at Clamshack Steve's.

"Go for the meat!" I insisted loudly as we broke apart at Il Vilagio. "They want for you to get cheap stuff like bread and salad! That's a con game! The meat costs them! Don't fill up before you get your money's worth!"

But, it being an Italian place and not a grill, I saw a lot of bread sticks, salad and pasta, but very little meat. Except for some meatballs listed as "Homemade Meatballs", which is a lie. Unless the cooks actually live at (editor's note: name removed under suggestion from legal council), this place is nobody's home, and I don't much care for the fib.

Other offerings included meatloaf and fried fish. But, yeah, for the most part it was sort of vaguely Italian-ish faire.

But I was mostly just confused by the whole operation. $13.00 for dinner and the food was, at best, the low end of the Olive Garden spectrum. Plus you had to fetch it yourself, and there flat out weren't that many "entree" type options.

And some guy who was just lingering in Il Vilagio had some nasty BO that surrounded him like a bubble and stung my eyes.

Upon returning to our table, they'd packed in more families (that table LED system was lit up like Christmas, I tell ya), and despite there being multiple empty tables far from us, the tour guide had chosen to pack them in around our table. We immediately noticed that if both tables sat back to back, neither could stand to return to the buffet line, which might save them money, but certainly seemed to defeat the purpose of the buffet concept. The League must be free in his movements when going back for soft serve ice cream.

We weren't the only ones to notice as the room became more densely packed and the family seated behind us got up and moved on their own, causing a landslide of paperwork for somebody.

And the food I got? Okay. Nothing great. Nothing that suggested they needed to clear out Deck the Walls' post-Holiday sale to decorate the joint. I'm an American. If the food is hot and there isn't vermin dashing across the table, color me pleased with my dining surroundings.

Then I noticed the bottom of the table was covered in that super-dense carpet they use in elementary schools. "There's carpet under the tables!" I exclaimed.
"Yes," Jamie blinked.
"No, on the bottom of the tables," Jason said, noting the odd texture. "Not the floor".

I do not understand Johnny Clambake's. I don't get the dining pods, the narrow, deathtrap hallways, the chocolate fountain they would not let you touch, Il Vilagio, substandard food, too many "fancy-lookin'" prints on the walls, and a 9:00 closing time.

At 8:15 Jason told the waiter, who was fishing around to see if we wanted our bill, "Oh, no. We're going to sit here for an hour, digest, and then go back for more." He sort of blinked and then said "We close at 9:00." Apparently someone had put our plan into action.

Oh, Johnny Clamshack! You are one senior citizen taking a spill in your narrow hallways away from closing your doors. Or someone noticing that the pizza bar is not dissimilar to the one in the Jester Dormitory cafeteria.

Oddly, the place (we found out because Jason likes to ask questions) is owned by the same folks who own (editor's note: name removed to preserve future dining experiences) (also a place where I expect I could meet a firey end). And I like (editor's note: name removed to preserve future opportunities for BBQ). I think I get where they're going with Jimmy Clamshack's, but there's a lot of work that has to happen with the menu if they want to make it. Or not. They could drop the price, and then, really, who cares? Ain't nobody going to Cici's because the pizza is good.

If the place does fold, it would make a swell Laser Tag arena. Otherwise, I have no idea what they could do with the oddly shaped space.