...totally sucks.
Wow. Monday evening I made poor Jason and Jamie sit through this no-budget train wreck.
Flash Gordon has successfully existed as a comic strip, 1950's TV show, radio serial movie serial, 80's camp classic, 90's cartoon, reprint series, whatever...
Yet somehow with a household name at their fingertips, untold hours of reference material and a public perception regarding the franchise, the geniuses behind this show decided that what they really needed to do was scrap all of that, make up a bunch of nonsense that's never plagued the concept before, and then spend most of the pilot in a Canadian suburb. It seems that, faced with a non-existent budget and a casting director with a pretty specific taste in women, the creators apparently had something other than Flash Gordon in mind and just borrowed the name of the property.
Seriously, nothing resembles anything you know about Flash Gordon.
A list of offenses includes:
-All of the women are thin brunettes with sort of almond eyes. I couldn't tell Dale, the princess or the bounty hunter apart in close-ups
-Flash's mom is, like, three years older than him and sort of uncomfortably attractive
-The show sorta takes a line on Latino immigrants that could be construed as racist
-Ming is the least threatening villain ever. Seriously. Ever. It's like having a record store manager mildly miffed with you.
-they've ditched the now well established, crazy, space opera look of Mongo for generic Sci-Fi channel BSG and Star Trek costuming rejects and bland hip design with no eye to the gilded age wonders of the comics and movies
-the pacing is glacial, nonsensical and meandering
-Flash is given a token black sidekick so someone can say "That's whack!" a lot
-The acting is uniformly awful
-Lines clearly intended to be played for laughs are played straight. Whether this is the director or actors' fault, I have no idea
-No Hawkmen
-No Lizardmen
-No awesome football game
-clearly filmed in a lush Canadian suburb
-Mongo: Also clearly the exact same suburb. Plus a water treatment plant possibly used in several "sci-fi" films from the 80's seen nowhere else but on MST3K
-Zarkov is now a quirky guy who will be play "The Professor" to Flash's "Gilligan"
-The girl who plays the princess seems puzzled as to what show she's on. Maybe the OC?
-absolutely no action to speak of
-And Flash can hop between a field near his house and Mongo at any time. pretty much defeating the point of the entire Flash Gordon concept
On every level possible, the program fails. If you're going to claim you're giving me Flash Gordon, Sci-Fi Channel, then give me @#$%ing Flash Gordon. Don't try to "update" a concept that's been honed and perfected over the better part of something like 70 years. You and your crappy budget are not smarter than the millions of folks who already passed judgment on the idea the way it was.
Leave it alone. Sometimes aliens just need to dress like color blind Prussian generals, weird Eastern stereotypes, pirates and barbarians.
The show is crap in a hat.
Monday, August 13, 2007
Slacker Cats
ABC Family, the network which was originally a religious network, then owned by Fox, before ABC bought it out.... is putting on a cartoon about two sex crazed, drug using cats. In prime time.
The League is no prude, but... I guess ABC means it when they brand their programming with "A New Kind of Family".
Anyhow, it appears to be in the mode of Family Guy or perhaps some of the Adult Swim programming on Cartoon Network. And it is on kind of late.
Nonetheless, there's something almost oddly meta-satirical in the commercials, as if these spots are meant to exist as part of the background in some film about a dystopian future more than actually pitching ABC Family's new Fall line-up.
I have a bad feeling about this.
Maybe it'll be great. Who knows?
The League is no prude, but... I guess ABC means it when they brand their programming with "A New Kind of Family".
Anyhow, it appears to be in the mode of Family Guy or perhaps some of the Adult Swim programming on Cartoon Network. And it is on kind of late.
Nonetheless, there's something almost oddly meta-satirical in the commercials, as if these spots are meant to exist as part of the background in some film about a dystopian future more than actually pitching ABC Family's new Fall line-up.
I have a bad feeling about this.
Maybe it'll be great. Who knows?
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.
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.
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, August 12, 2007
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.
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.
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.
Saturday, August 11, 2007
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.
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.
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