Child-Free American

So the other night we were at dinner with Steven and Lauren and were seated across from Steven's friends Forrest, Marina and their kid, Blaze. Blaze, you must understand, looks like he should be in grape juice commercials, is talkative without being annoyingly precocious and had not an ounce of bratty in him. In short, a good kid.

Unsure of what else to chat about, Blaze seemed like a good option. And in the course of the discussion someone accurately described Jamie and I as "childless". But that person was quickly shot down in favor of what must be a new term: Child-Free.

Apparently this term was cooked up to spare the feelings of those who would like to have children, but do not. I am both amused and horrified that, for the first time in my life, as a middle class white male I've had a PC label applied to me. My feelings must be mitigated through semantics. I am to be described in a way that suggests I have made a valid choice of alternative lifestyle, and that choice is recognized and appreciated by all.

Were Jamie and I the same age we were when we left for Arizona, the question of the number of children we had left behind with Gorton's fish sticks and Kraft Mac'n'Cheese would never be addressed. Young, recently married, we'd be expected to be having a great time, going to shows, travel the world, etc...

But now...

Now we are in our 30's. In March and April, it will be semi-accurate to describe us as being in our mid-30's. We are past the age when we've gotten our careers going, have had our youthful fun, and its time to bring the next generation of Leagues into existence. For the rest of my life, it will be presumed I'm hiding a couple of fishstick-eaters somewhere.

For anyone who has followed this blog, its not a secret that this is not going to happen. I like kids. Despite all the jokes I make at the expense of folks who are now wrestling with sleepless nights, dirty diapers and paying for college in 17 years... And as much as I like sleeping in, not having dirty diapers and spare money enough to buy Jimmy Olsen comics... Having kids just isn't in the picture. We didn't make the choice, but it's also never been in the cards, and so was never been given much consideration any more than "wouldn't it be neat if we had hands where our ears are".

I want to be very clear here: In no way am I offended by assumptions that we should have kids. I don't think folks who have kids are suckers. I was just left reeling at the idea that I had moved into a category which I had not been aware existed.

Now, here's what I dig about my valid lifestyle choice as a Child-Free American... It may keep me from going through the battery of questions all child-rearing folks (AKA: Breeders) have:
-when we plan to have kids
-why we don't plan to have kids
-why we don't press on and adopt, because, you know, we'd make swell parents (a topic which is sorely up for debate, and would require experiments that no western government would allow. Jason's hypothesis: Feral Children.).

As Child-Free Americans its like we decided on a different path in life. Like, say, we decided to live in a dymaxion home or done something else slightly unconventional, but, you know, it's just something you let slide.

As a Dog-Saddled/ Child-Free American, unfortunately, you have a great love for your pets. And people really, really do not like you matching their stories about how their kid smiles when he farts with how your dog wakes you up in the morning when she's hungry, or how your cat has figured out how to open the pantry door. Still, I must remind everyone that your kid will be in diapers for years and my dog learned to go to the door before she was six months old when she had to pee. I'm just saying.

Pretty sharp, my dogs.

Mike Wieringo, RIP

The comic fan community was rocked today by the news that Mike Wieringo, age 44, has apparently died of a heart attack.

Wieringo's work has appeared for the last several years in DC and Marvel comics in titles such as Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man, Fantastic Four, Flash and many others.

Thanks to the DC title, "Impulse" and several issues of Adventures of Superman, I was familiar with Wieringo's work prior to his run on Fantastic Four (with Mark Waid writing), but that was when I grew to really appreciate his work. I loved his depiction of the the Richards clan, and his Von Doom.



You can read more here.

I'm really going to miss Wieringo's art and the spirit it brought to any title.

Thanks, Mike. You'll be missed.

Sunday Night Post

Folks were here this weekend. Hi Mom and Dad!

Here's a creepy video.

Here's a fun video, thanks to JimD. Requires sound.



My advice that I learned this evening... avoid the Steak 'n Shake on I-35 when headed south out of town. I still feel queasy.

I thought the Steank 'n Shake would be small, cheap steaks (crazy me) and maybe steak fries, but no. Instead it's a chain of lo-fi, incredibly greasy burgers teamed with shakes featuring fake banana flavoring.

Apparently Steak n' Shake is some mid-western transplant that has decided to become even more of a corporate giant and so has set up shop in the new ginormous shopping area that has taken over the land once oocupied by music venue "Southpark Meadows". As goes Austin, Soutpark Meadows is now a huge strip mall with BOTH a Wal-Mart and Super Target. But it has a Jason's Deli, so I forgive it (mmmmm... Bird to the Wise...)

Sigh.

Anyway, Steak 'n Shake is not too far from our house, and I was sort of glad to be trying a new place with only Jamie and myself as the victims. But... It's been 3.5 hours and I still don't feel well.

And I'll eat anything. Seriously. I'm like a goat.

I salute the folks who ate there and didn't feel funky afterward. It was packed, so I assume Steak 'n Shake is going ot make it. It's just unlikely they'll get any more of my shekles.

I honestly think we do a little better than the actual burgers in Texas at places you think of as a last resort such as Shortstop. And, honestly, Shortstop's fries are better. I think I'm just used to a better cut of meat. And Californians who love them some In 'n Out Burger would be more than slightly appalled.

The weird part if that this place is basically a fastfood joint with waitresses. There seems to be no real reason this place isn't an order at the counter sort of joint, but you have to be seated, which seriously raised my expectations for the quality of meal I was going to have. The really weird part is that the price of the food is low enough that I had to round way up to feel okay about the tip I left our waitress (who was hustling, man).

Anyhow, it seems unlikely Steak 'n Shake will see the likes of the League once again. Until some night when I decide I really want a banana shake.

I am weak.

Birthday for Harms

Happy late birthday, Harms!

Last night we wound up at Manuel's up on Jollyville in N. Austin. (I know! I can't believe they let people in N. Austin eat anything but Lonestar Cafe, either Well, time marches on.)

It was a celebration of Stephen moving into his 30th trip around El Sol. We met some nice folks, re-met Steven's sister and her newly minted husband, had a margarita or two and had a dandy evening.

All in all, a succeful evening for Steven, I think. Unless he was really unhappy, in which case he did a good job of disguising it.

The League too old to rock?

So last night Jason and I went to see Ween with a herd of folks. It was my first rock show in several years, and, if memory serves, the first since I saw Bowie in Phoenix.

One seriously weird phenomena I suffered in Phoenix was that I would buy tickets to shows and something either health, work or miscellaneous would come up and I couldn't go. I missed shows by Beck, The Pixies, the Walkmen, Willie Nelson and others in the span of the four years I was there. It was sort of incredible.

I started going to shows as early as middle school thanks to folks who appreciated leniency in such matters, and continued going to shows past the first year or so when we were married. But when we hit Phoenix, the sorts of folks we wanted to see tended to go through Tuscon rather than Phoenix, or would skip AZ all togther.

if you ever wonder who the heck are all the people buying Goo Goo Dolls and Blink 182 albums, look no further than Arizona and its love of Clearstream Communications.

Last night was hot and humid. The heat index for the afternoon downtown was around 107.

It was also my first visit to Stubbs as a venue. Somehow prior to my departure, I'd kind of skipped shows at Stubbs, which seems odd now.

I sort of assumed that once the sun went down, things would cool off and perhaps a breeze would kick in.

Ween hit the stage comfortably early for a dude like me who just put in a week's worth fo work and was sort of uncomfortable with the idea of a two hour set starting at 10:30. Fortunately, they came on before 8:30.

By 9:30, I began to seriously ponder the fact that so many people still actually smoke. In some ways, I'm completely shocked. With the constant barrage of ads and scientific info floating around out there, smoking has sort of become something I expect for folks to do if they're my age or older and seriously addicted or just plain ornery. But not having been a part of any nightlife scene in years, I had forgotten the category of person who "smokes when they drink".

And drinking folks were doing. In vast, vast quantities.

It did occur to me that when I would go to shows in my prior life, I would get very close to the front, and stand off to the side so as not to block anyone else's view with my height or width. So I may not have been aware of the other 3/4's of the crowd who was there to get goofy on overpriced beer and talk with their friends, let alone even have elbow room enough to light up a cigarette without causing themself or someone else some bodily injury.

I was anticipating Ween would play until 11:30 (they payed three hours on Thursday at their first show), and so when it was 10:00 and standing on a sloping incline for an hour and a half started to fatigue me a bit, I realized there's really nowhere to sit down at Stubb's. I paid 30 bucks to stand in a dirt lot.

Add in the sorority girls in front of me who had one dance, the "raise the roof" hip-hop dance, in their repertoire, which they employed no matter how fast or slow the song (which also meant I had to stand a few feet back lest their constant string of Marloboro's might catch my face), and I moved to the edge of the crowd.

I had probably 6 years, if not 10, on a lot of the crowd. I am feeling old. The wackiness that was wacky when I was 18, 20, 22 is all old hat now. You sort of hope the kids will bring something new to the table, but instead it felt a bit like time stands still in the yard at Stubbs. There will always be a new crop of college and post-college folks to fill in the gaps when I'm so used to sitting at a computer all day that my legs start to hurt after standing around for two hours. Their lungs are pink and fresh and their stomachs don't turn as the dork in the ironic beard next to them blows smoke in their face.

It's not that Ween didn't put on a good show (although The League has never been a fan of solo'ing outside of jazz shows, and there was more than enough noodling at the Ween show). It was the realization that I left Austin at one age and came back at another, and I'm old and beat up now. I'm not cut out for standing in suffocating heat in a cloud of smoke anymore. I can't ignore the shooting pains in my legs from standing on a hill in one position for a few hours.

Is The League too old to rock?

Well, we've got ACL Fest passes for three days in the grueling Texas sun to figure that one out.

Opting for sleep

My blogging has been rotten of late. I apologize, sort of.

I just decided that, last night, I needed some sleep after pitching a fit because neither Jamie nor Jason would go to Target with me to buy $10 sunglasses. Granted, I needed sunglasses, but my reaction was greatly out of proportion to the very reasonable arguments for not going put before me.

Anyhow, I was sort of punchy while I was there, bought the wrong dogfood, bought some fairly cheesy 80's-looking sunglasses, came home, watched the Colbert report, read some Jimmy Olsen and then went to bed. I pondered blogging, but it didn't happen.

Going to see Ween tonight at Stubbs. I'm sorta pumped as I've never had opportunity to see them before.

comic post

Today was once again new comic day, as it is so often on Wednesdays.

The highlight of my DC selections this week is Green Lantern. There's a great story going on here called the Sinestro War, which is tying together elements from decades of DC Comics (but doesn't necessarily require a masters in DCU), while adding in new elements. It's just an absolutely huge story, and is infinitely better scoped and written than the ultra-dull Amazons Attack! in Wonder Woman and in its own limited series.

Countdown is rapidly becoming a huge disappointment. I'm beginning to wish the Jimmy Olsen storyline were just a back-up feature in Superman and/ or Action Comics.

Over at Marvel, I've picked up recent issues of Spider-Man, Hulk, World War Hulk, Thor and a few other titles. (Hey, Thor just moved to Oklahoma! Who knew?)

By and large, I think DC is having some serious problems with editorial driving things and rewarding Dan Didio loyalist writers with work they aren't qualified for. It's certainly harming Countdown as whatever scheme Dini is putting together keeps getting mired down in glacial pacing, clumsy dialog and the now grim reminder on the cover of each issue how many more weeks of this we're putting up with.

Further, the limited series tying into other editorial mismanagement, such as the Green Arrow/ Black Canary wedding stuff is leading into half-baked limited series.

I'm caught in a bit of a pickle as I'm the resident DC reviewer for Comic Fodder, and, right now, I'm about ready to give up on a whole bunch of DC. But I'm just tired of shelling out money for comics written by guys who don't deliver and seem to be responsible for huge portions of DC's output.

Meanwhile, guys like Morrison and Mark Waid have kind of disappeared to the sidelines, when DC should really be putting these guys front and center as the controlling factor in the DC Universe. Fortunately, Geoff Johns seems to have no problem maintaining his high profile, and is doing good thinsg with the GL Corps (with Dave Gibbons and Patrick Gleason making GL Corps a solid book).

Right now, though, I'd be putting my money on Marvel. World War Hulk is idiot simple with high concept, and seems to be delaying some ctastrophic event, but at least its interesting. Thor is just out there enough that even a guy like me who could usually give a flip about Thor is picking it up.

Spidey... well, we'll see. I'm just so curious about where this is going that that I really, really hope they don't totally drop the ball on me.

FF is okay, too. But I dig Black Panther. I'm not as crazy about the depiction of Storm, but I haven't been okay with Storm since she gave up the mohawk and leathers. Those were the days.

Overall, the Superman books are better than anything during the Berganza run, aside from maybe the initial No Limits stuff and parts of Our Worlds at War. Actually, no... this stuff is still mostly better.

Batman and Detective, wen not waiting through a fill-in artist, are both really sound Batman books.

And, personally, i've been really digging JLA and JSA, as well as their respective "Classified" sister series.

If anyone feels like going comic shopping, let me know. We may want to just save up for the big Labor Day blow-out at Austin Books.

All you back issues of Jimmy Olsen will be mine! MINE!!!!!