I went and head a ton of dental work done today. No big deal.

But now the numbing stuff is wearing off. Mother of God, it's beginning to hurt.

Hey, looky! It's a countdown to the release of the new Superman movie.



A Kryptonian ship from the Kent farm set from the new movie.

CNN reports Cookie Monster to learn to eat right.

Given what my doctor keeps telling me, maybe Cookie Monster and I can learn to eat right together.

Cookie Monster, I feel your pain. I also get the crazy googly-eyes when presented with a plate of cookies.

From the files of: It seemed like a good idea at the time...

Could it be that the UConn Young Republicans' choice of guest speaker, Ultimate Warrior, was not the genteel, thought-provoking fellow we all believed?

It's really the photo (and my own memory of seeing Ultimate Warrior wrestle at the Erwin Center circa 1990) that makes this so grand.

Heidi Reports.

If only we could get Scott McClellan in that same get-up. THEN people would really be interested in the White House press briefings.

***update***

The Ultimate Warrior is not going to take this Ultimately lying down.

Here is Warrior's rebuttle (sp?).

Look, I have no transcript of the speech given by Warrior (as I guess UW is now called. Why is he no longer the Ultimate Warrior? I guess because Hogan reclaiming his belt in 1991 may have suggested he was not, in fact the ULTIMATE warrior.). And I know that when the hippies decide it's time to get rowdy, things can get a bit silly. So one does wonder, without the benefit of a transcript, what exactly went down with Warrior, the College Republicans, and the obnoxious hippies?

I want to give Warrior the benefit of the doubt. After all, he did become champion fo the WWF after Wrestlemania 6 (althogh i recall his victory relied upon the unfortunate circumstance of a referee losing consciousness during the match-up, and Hogan pinning Warrior several times without the match being called).

As boring as Political Correctness got in the 90's, the current trend of proudly declaring oneself Not Politically Correct has gone from a statement of "tellin' it like it is" in order to stand up to a perceived persecution by liberal elitists, to the indignant response of those who have no idea they are, in fact, a total jack-ass. It's sort of the same failure of logic that results from believing anything you don't like which you see on TV is part of the liberal conspiracy of the main stream media rather than accepting the notion that: occasionally people you support are jack-asses, too.

The League does confess to feeling a certain kinship with Warrior as Mr. Warrior also sees fit to refer to himself throughout his column in the third-person. However, the Warrior does not use the royal "we", which, we at the League find most gratifying in its employ.

NO NO NO NO NO NO NO

THE LEAGUE PRESENTS:
SUGGESTIONS FOR FURTHER READING
COUNTDOWN TO INFINITE CRISIS


Last week saw the beginning of DC Comics' new big event. Or, should I say, last week saw the first beat of the PRELUDE to DC Comics' new big event.

But even that isn't accurate, because with a change in editorial a while back, DC got a fire under it's butt and dusted off the psychic cobwebs and somehow recalled that folks might like to have a coherent space which the stable of DC Comic characters occupy.

For the past several years, for whatever reason, both of the major comic companies decided that the writer should be king, and part of that should mean that the writers weren't going to be asked to adhere to continuity or pay attention to what was going on in the comics published by the company.

Visualize, if you will, non-comic readers, the havoc this would play in watching, say, X-Files. One week Mulder & Scully might discover that aliens are the sole inhabitants of Boulder, Colorado. The next week, they wouldn't even mention it, and begin speaking about trying to locate aliens all over again. Then, two weeks later, they might discover that Mesa, Arizona is inhabited completely by aliens and be totally shocked and say things like, "We've never seen anything like this before!"

Anyway, annoying.

A while back Dan DiDio took over oversight of DC's main line of comics (known as the DCU) and seems to have dictated that this "writer's can do whatever they want" business had to end. Fortunately, the writers who were working there already more or less nodded in agreement and began figuring out what to do next.

It appears that the writers began plotting all of this sometime ago as evidenced by comments dropped in the Superman/ Batman comics released an entire year ago, Identity Crisis raising the stakes, and events in individual comics leading right up to last week's release: Countdown to Infinite Crisis.


Despite the fact that every other hero pictured can throw a Hyundia across a parking lot, it's poor old Batman who has to carry the dead guy again. But WHO IS THE DEAD GUY? (hint... it's not Batman)

Quite a title they dreamed up for their $1.00 comic. Fortunately, the comic is 80 pages, and if you read the same ridiculous number of DC Comics that The League does, a lot of things begin to click into place.

If you ever followed comics, you might know "Infinite" and "Crisis" are not words which should be placed together and taken lightly. So we got that going for us.

Now, in addition to the $1.00 comic, DC is releasing not one, not two, not three, but FOUR limited series all under the banner of "Countdown to Infinite Crisis".

The OMAC Project

Villains United

Day of Vengeance

Rann/ Thanagar War

I suppose this means that some time near the end of the year the actual event of the "Infinite Crisis" will rear it's head. In the meantime, the various comics are weaving in and out of this overall storyline in an interesting way. For the first time in years, the DCU feels like one place.

Of course the trolls who lurk about the comic internet world are beating their chests and howling about how they feel their comics are being ruined, but I'm enjoying the hell out of it.

Don't even get me started on what a mindwarp Grant Morrison's Seven Soldiers of Victory is turning out to be.

For a SFFR on Sin City, go here.

A Haiku by Mrs. League:

Small Felis Catus
Gracefully leaps on table.
Glass falls. One A.M.

On Friday Jim D e-mailed me before I'd finished my third cup of coffee to tell me he was headed in to see Sin City. Apparently he was stranded in Houston. Long story.

He called me after exiting the theater, gave me a nickel review, we talked a bit about the flick and then it was time to say adios (it being a work day).

Saturday Jamie and I overcame some minor obstacles in order to go and catch the flick. I was a few feet from Jamie in the parking lot when I remembered a plot point from "The Long Goodbye", and suddenly it occured to me, "Hey, you might not like this movie."

"Why's that?"
"It's, uh... It's going to be really violent."
"I know," she nodded. "I picked up some of your comics."
That's the kind of dame I married. The sort of dame who is going to shrug off a bit of squeamishness in order to check out something new and different and that I might have been ranting about for eight months.

Review are in for Sin City, and most of them are only semi-positive. I guess that's to be expected. Opening weekend receipts were good, but are expected to drop-off once the eager fanboys wander off.

I'd suggest reading Peter Sanderson's comments upon the reviews of Sin City. It stirs up a lot of what I was thinking in both reading the reviews and then heading to the cinema.
Thanks to The Beat for posting the link.

In my head, I do keep some boundaries regarding genre, but I have come to recognize many of the rules which dictate genre are more or less useless if you want to ever take a medium seriously. They also rely far too much on specifics of visual detail and too little on story telling.

An easy example: Star Wars is, despite the star ships, etc... not really a sci-fi movie as scientific principles are completely not the focus of the story. Instead, Star Wars is a fantasy movie using trappings of the sci-fi genre such as laser pistols and robots. Just as last year's I, Robot was not as much a sci-fi movie as much as a police procedural/ cop actioner (vs. the Asimov books which are some of the purest sci-fi around).

It had always sort of puzzled me why folks were so quick to hang "film noir" on the Sin City comics. Yes, the images were black and white, and people sort of grumbled about the city being a lousy place to be, but these were tools lifted from noir. However, in watching films like Laura, The Maltese Falcon, The Big Combo, or The Killers, one wasn't going to see a lot of similarities. Sin City is razor sharp, rat-a-tat action with beheadings and cannibals. I think Laura has three gun shots occur during the course of the entire movie, but it's mostly people standing around talking. The lack of color was most assuredly a budgetary concern in most of these films, and one can hardly place the course of events in The Maltese Falcon in the same realm as those in Marv's Story from Sin City (The Hard Goodbye).

The Sin City comics are inked in stark black and white, punctuated occasionally with color (see That Yellow Bastard), a fantastic choice to bring mood to a world of eternal night and a moral spectrum completely comprised of grays. But with Marv punching his way through doorways and Dwight jumping off of window ledges, I wasn't quite finding the glove-perfect fit I was looking for. The original films dubbed as "Film Noir" were usually talky films done on a budget. What they couldn't do in money, they made up for in topsy-turvey plots and a cast of outlandish characters. For whatever reason, I saw Sin City as strictly nitrous fueled pulp tales/ crime stories using elements of noir.

But I've decided I was wrong.

What makes these movies/ comics/ book fall within the same realm is not so much the specific visual cues and elements, because you could, theoretically make a noir take place in broad day light and in color (see 1984's Blood Simple). Sure, Frank added his usual touches that bespeak Frank's fingerprints on a story, but he's kept the essence of the genre (if that's what you want to call it) completely unadulterated and intact.

So I'm still not sure what makes the film noir genre. I guess my criteria is that the story has to be about characters who have more or less given up on their life or are more or less ambivalent getting pulled in to a situation which is a) bigger than them, and b)is going to give them one last chance at redemption. Sometimes that thing is a bag of money (but usually it's what the money can buy them), more often, that thing is a girl.

And if Sin City manages to do one thing, it manages to pull off the two criteria above with aplomb.

But, as I say, I don't care too much for blocking things off into genre.

BTW, I have to endorse Turbo Tax.

I've used it since 1999, and I've filed electronically for the past few years using it, and you know what? It kicks ass.

Sure, sure... I could hire some dude from H&R block to somehow find us another few bucks on our return, but then I'd have to pay the guy, anyway.

In college I took, believe it or not (and many of you will believe), a class in the Home Economics department. It was actually the single most useful course I've ever taken.

In the class I had to learn how to do taxes outside of a 1040EZ, taking into account things like buying and selling property, dividends, etc... We also had to learn about money markets, IRAs and all kinds of good stuff.

Go ahead and make fun of me for taking a Home Ec class, but without that class, I have no idea how I would have gotten by in the first few years out of college when it came to tax season. Sure, turbo Tax takes the work out of my hands, but I also know I can read the fine print without getting all confused.

These are things you just don't get told about a whole lot when you're a kid.

Anyway, taxes are filed. We're getting a refund, which I have been told is going toward savings and not toward a 1:1 scale model of the Hall of Justice.

Not much to report from League HQ.

Jamie and I had an entirely uneventful weekend. One of the nice features of our neighborhood (and most neighborhoods in Arizona) is that they do not use a sewer system for rain run-off. Instead, most newer neighborhoods designate a green area in the middle of the nieighborhood that serves both as drainage and as a park. Ours happens to be large enough to play host to a sports field, which of course nobody ever uses as all the kids are inside playing their PSPs.

So, having no kids but having two dogs who are infinitely more entertaining than most kids, we went to the park and walked the dogs. It's lovely here these days. 85 degrees and low humidity. Nice day to get Lucy used to the leash. And it was nice day to take Mel off the leash and let him run in circles out in the grass.

In the afternoon we went to see Sin City, which I will not belabor you with a review. It was fun and interesting, and I look forward to seeing it again at some point.

Aside from that, we went to the gym and watched some of the coverage of the goings-on at the Vatican. Having just sat through the audio book of "Angels and Demons" it was interesting to hear the description of the steps to the Pope's funeral carried out.

My memories start to really kick in about age 4 or 5 when we moved from Michigan to Dallas. And I do recall my mother booting me out of the house on the day the Pope was shot. She wanted to watch the footage, but she didn't want me to get scared, so I had to go play out in the back yard.

I should mention that the Steans family is not Catholic, but that evening, when I was told what happened and what was going on, I sort of kind of understood the gravity of the situation.

This memory is tied up with three or four other media events.

1) Reagan being shot. I recall that one as The Admiral explained that GHWB would take over until the President was on his feet again.

2) The wedding of Charles and Di. I recall watching the footage with my mom and being astounded that she could stand up with a train which most surely weighed hundreds of pounds.

3) The freeing of the hostages from Iran. I don't remember too much about it, but I remember the news people being very excited and The Admiral sort of talking in vague terms about what we were seeing on the screen.

All in all, John Paul II is the only Pope to have been around while I've been conscious of such a thing. And not being Catholic, I have no idea what sort of Pope he was in comparison to the Popes before him.

It does seem if anyone would have a golden ticket to get past the pearly gates, it'd be this guy. But we won't know until we're all pushing up daisies, will we?

Next weekend we have tickets to see the mighty Phoenix Suns play the Houston Rockets. If McGrady shows up for the game in spirit as well as body, Phoenix may have a match on their hands. Yao seems to finally understand how to play in the US and is finally becoming the formidable player he was promised to be three years ago.

Anyway, hope everyone else had a good weekend.

I really need to go to bed.

Loyal Leaguer Nathan Cone gets a write up in the Trinity University Alumni Newsletter.

Do you call The League a liar? Read here.

The League does not see such praise for himself coming anytime soon in The Alcalde as The League refuses to benefit mankind in any way shape or form. Truly, The League is a leech on society.

Yes, The League is officially a Texas-Ex. Shut up.

I have Spam in my pocket.

Shit.

I just spent like half an hour working on another installment of "DITMTLOD". But I clicked the wrong dealy and it disappeared into the ether.

I blame only myself.

I confess if I were more focused and not trying to blog and watch the new program "Kojak" starring Ving Rhames, I might not have lost my posting.

Oh, well. What are you going to do?

On the plus side, I kind of like this Kojak show. I never watch cop shows, but I like Ving Rhames, and I sort of like catching up with this show from the first episode. If I come in even part way through a show's first season, I have trouble doing the work to catch up.

Alas, the DIMTMTLOD will have to wait for another day.

It should be noted that I also couldn't think up anything clever for April Fool's, so... uh... I feel as if I really dropped the ball.

Somehow I suspect you'll all get along fine for a few days until I get my act together.

Grenade Bot
There's no way this can be dangerous.

-M.League

Happy Birthday, Peabo!

The 26th of March marked the 30th birthday of Jeffrey "Peabo" Peek. Peabo is a great guy with a lot of hare-brained ideas, and a whole lot of moxie.

I met him in 4th Grade after moving to Austin. He told me the entire story of "Red Dawn", scene for scene, the day I met him. He also didn't mind that I ate all the food in his pantry, so I sort of stuck tight for the next several years.

Jeff is a buddy, a pal, and also one of my crack team of legal experts I keep on retainer just in case. A short while ago he married Adrianna, a girl I assure you who is far too good for him. They recently adopted a schnauzer named "Homer," and, I assume are enjoying their new home.

Back in our youth, Peabo had a multitude of wacky ideas which probably should have gotten one or both of us killed, but despite our best efforts, we're still alive today.

I certainly do miss the guy, and I don't get to talk to him nearly often enough.

Happy Birthday, Peabo. I didn't get you anything.


A scene from the childhood of Peabo and The League

The League Presents:
Suggestions for Further Reading
A Sin City Special



Friday will see the release of what is sure to be a divisive movie among fans of pop culture. Frank Miller's Sin City is finally coming to a theater near you.

I am not going to guarantee you will enjoy Sin City. The content of the stories is minimal, hard-boiled stuff. The look and feel are stylized enough to be alienating, and the characters are not going to be immediately sympathetic. Nobody is clean down in Basin City.

By now you've heard all about how Robert Rodriguez was so committed to retaining the integrity of Frank Miller's work that he decided to bring Miller on-board as a co-director, and thusly had to give up his membership in the Director's Guild as it is against Director's Guild rules to allow for two directors on a single movie. Maybe you've heard how Rodriguez financed a short, which ultimately became the movie's opening scene, out of his own pocket.

You've probably also seen publicity stills and whatnot of green screens and artificial backgrounds.

Lots of crazy stuff. And all to make sure that Miller's work didn't just make it to the screen in spirit... Rodriguez wanted to make sure the books made it to the screen word for word, panel for panel.

This sort of thing doesn't happen for anything adapted for the big screen, comic book, novel, play, whatever... No matter what, the folks at the studio who know better always insist upon adding their own spin, changing storylines, adding or subtracting characters... there's always something. Even Spider-Man, a comic adaptation which truly captures the silver-age essence of the Spider-Man comics, brings Mary Jane in dozens of issues before her first appearance. It changes the Goblin's origin and costume. And, heck... they gave Spidey organic web-shooters instead of his wacky little mechanical web-shooters.

Let's not even get into where the Batman films took a detour and became their own unrecognizable entity.

It would have to take a fanboy of uncompromising spirit to do what Rodriguez has done, and it would take somebody like Miller to get him to do it. It's the ultimate gamble, but also the ultimate leap of faith.

Miller gave us some of the best comics of the past twenty-odd years, comics which opened up our young minds to new and better ideas. But to get there, Miller wrote and drew comics which took existing ideas and figured out why the ideas were brilliant, burning off the fat, tearing away the weakness and reigniting the fires of old fantasies, not just into a comforting glow of nostalgia, but into a raging inferno of the possibilities of genre and character. As much as a craftsman as he might be with Batman, he could just as easily turn in something like 300.

It was guys like Miller who put the thoughts into the heads of starry-eyed kids like Rodriguez back when he was a kid. He told us all the stories hadn't been told yet, and that maybe there are new ways to tell the ones which we already know.

We all have heroes growing up, and for better or worse, for a lot of us geeks, Frank Miller was the man. Even if it was just his Batman work, or, for a lot of lucky folks, his Daredevil work, or the classic Wolverine limited series.

And, if I'd been smarter, I'd have picked up Ronin back when I saw it on the shelf at B. Dalton when I was thirteen.

These days it's fascinating to see comics movies shed the stigma of being this medium where the producers seem vaguely embarassed of their own projects. In the hands of the geeks, at least the movies have a shot at reflecting the maturity which has been blossoming in comics since the 70's. Between guys like Raimi, Rodriguez and Goyer, it's the first time the film creators are able to stand up proudly and talk about the guys who had a hand in shaping their world.

You're lucky, you lucky bastards who don't love comics. You haven't spent year after year watching the characters you know and love come to the big screen as pale, diluted versions of the books you loved, each one more apologetic than the one before it as producers chased dollars before even trying to understand why a property had survived for thirty or more years.

Even with all that, misteps will always occur. Two of Miller's triumphs have been turned into films in the past few years, and both failed to capture much more than the wardrobes of the characters Miller breathed life into. 2003's Daredevil was a shadow of Miller's original storyline, and 2004's Elektra seemed to do anything but recognize why anybody had ever loved the character.

But Miller didn't own Daredevil, or Elektra. Marvel Comics owned them, and they could damn well do as they pleased.

His script for Robocop 2 was diluted and diluted until Miller's fingerprints were only there if you knew where to look.

So if he was a bit skeptical of turning Sin City into a movie, a project which has no voice in it but Miller's own? Who can blame him?

Luckily for us, Rodriguez got what it was Miller was doing, and decided if he would adapt it, he was going to do it right. He was going to bring Sin City to the screen, and he was going to do it panel by panel, and he was bringing Frank along to keep him honest.

In addition to the readings I've linked to above, I'm also suggesting the entire Sin City run. In particular, I'd turn you onto the books which you'll see highlighted in the movie.

1) The Hard Goodbye. The first (and some say, best) Sin City story tells the tale of poor old crazy Marv.

2) The Big Fat Kill. "You gotta stand up for your friends. Sometimes that means dying. Sometimes it means killing a whole lotta people."

3) That Yellow Bastard. Hartigan is maybe the last honest cop in Basin City. And in Sin City, that doesn't come without a price.

4) Booze, Broads and Bullets. A collection of short stories.


So when you go to see Sin City, I hope you enjoy. This movie isn't going to be capes and tights. If you're going to need a non-comic inspired reference, it's Raymond Chandler and Dashiell Hammet refracted through a broken whiskey bottle. It's going to be a crazy, hyper-violent thrill ride, and I hope you can sit back, relax, have fun and try not to take it all too seriously. Frank would be disappointed if you did.

It's some ways, this movie is nothing but the biggest thank-you one could ever think of giving Miller. We all just get to be in on it.


For the previous Suggestions, click here.

Hey Uncle Bob!

So. It appears that my uncle, "Pentagon" Bob, has been lurking here at The League for quite some time. And by quite some time, I mean, at least a year.

"Pentagon" Bob earned his name by working for the military for years, and this meant his office was right there in the Pentagon. Which, of course, meant that all of my friends were convinced Bob was some sort of secret agent. I am still not convinced Bob is not a secret agent. He lurked here at The league for over a year, and I had no idea he was here. Pretty sneaky, eh?

Bob is married to Linda, who is one groovy chick all on her own. She may also be a spy, but we'll never know, will we?

Bob once took me on a tour of the Pentagon, and I tell you this: I have never seen so many urinals in one, single men's room. That, and these urinals were spotless. That's a fine example of either military discipline or precision, and I have not yet decided which it truly represents.

The other thing you need to know about the Pentagon is this: It's huge. Any enemy forces planning to infiltrate the Pentagon are completely wasting their time. They're going to get lost and end up having to ask for directions.

Thanks to a wicked combination of a derth of vacation days and conflicting family vacation events, I very rarely get to see Bob and Linda these days. It's tough to get all of us in one place at the same time. That, and Bob's constant spy work keeps him busy.

Anyway, it appears that, thanks to Pentagon Bob, my folks located not just my blog, but they also recently located that of Brother Dearest. I assume Jason will now be far more paranoid about what gets posted over at AoS.

I am curious what illusions Bob might have once had about his two cherubic nephews that we've managed to shatter, tread upon and then toss in the dust-bin. Ah, well. Hopefully they'll keep sending nice Christmas cards.

But you gotta love Bob. I shall never forget that when everyone else failed me one bleak Christmas, it was Bob who provided us with Nerf Boomerangs. Those things rocked.

In case you missed Doug's comment:

Not all of the escaped Gorillas were violent:



Yes, the League enjoys a good photo-op as much as the next guy. Perhaps even more so.

I can't help but look at this photo and think: I'm an idiot.

People always say to me: League, why don't you like going to the beach?

As a child, I loved going to the beach. And then one day when I was about 9, I realized that I no longer liked the beach.

I sunburn. I am one pale, highly flammable bastard, and the slightest bit of sunlight turns me lobster red. Not only do I burn, but I always felt sick from dehydration. Whatever fun I had for a few hours grew to be ruined by a) the constant worry of burning b) getting out of the water every fifteen minutes to apply more suntan lotion c) the horrible, greasy feel of suntan lotion caked on, mixed with salt water and sand d) in 1997 I finally REALLY misjudged, and after an hour and a half in the sun, I was burned so badly that I got the blisters. That SUCKED.

and the real kicker: Everybody has to take a bug-eyed at you and exclaim, "Boy, are you sunburned! Didn't you use sunscreen?"

Yes, yes I did use sunscreen on my trip to San Diego. But I did not use it yesterday as I didn't realize I would be outside for any duration.

I own a mirror. I know I am sunburned. I do not need to be told by each person who walks by my office that I am sunburned. I do, in fact, know that sunscreen exists and I am used to applying it in liberal quantities. Sometimes it is difficult to judge if you need it, and yesterday I misjudged.

I am now going to print a sign and tape it to my monitor to inform my co-workers that I know I am sunburned and that I do not need any help or instructions for future exposure to sunlight.

Stay classy, San Diego!

Well, we're back. Let me say that San Diego is a lovely town with friendly people and a lot to offer. We had ourselves quite a time, and I would very much liek to go back.

We stayed at a loverly hotel just off Balboa Park, The Balboa Park Inn.

It was made up of several former small apartment buildings, and each room was given a unique theme. We stayed in The Orient Express.



Jamie poses in our fabulous suite

The evening we arrived we went on a harbor tour and got a good look at some naval vessels, some cargo vessels, Coronado Island, etc... Very nice. The tour guide was deemed controversial, but all in all, it was an interesting tour.

The next morning we got up early, got breakfast, and headed for the San Diego Zoo (only a few blocks from the hotel).




Gorillas rampaged all about the park. We feared for our very lives.

Joining us on our trip were Jamie's brother, Doug... His lady-friend, Kristen, and Jamie's pal, Heather "H" Wagner.




Doug, Kristen, H, Jamie

The best transit at the San Diego Zoo? Skycar!

Heather spots a loose gorilla in a passing Skycar

San Diego is also home to a few Giant Pandas. These guys are terribly endangered.


This Panda is trying to sleep one off after yet another night out with the hippos.

Jamie was delighted to see the Pandas. It was a highlight of our visit to the San Diego Zoo. Especially with all the loose gorillas causing so much trouble.



Jamie is delighted to have seen a Panda. Up until this point, she's usually only eaten them.

Toward the end of the day, we paused at the Elephant Exhibit.


Nothing finishes off a day like an elephant.

We didn't have a shot at finishing seeing the whole zoo. The place is enormous and very hilly. I could have easily done another whole day at the zoo, and hope to return soon to see the rest of the exhibits.

I didn't take too many pictures after this, but we went for a lovely dinner last night at Prado restaurant. It was a lot of fun, and it was significantly better than the dinner at the tourist trap we'd gone to the night before.

Today we got up and ran over to Coronado Island. Very nice place with a lot of history.

At any rate, hope you all had a good weekend. We sure did.