I've Had To Listen To The Hawk All Day....

...and if I don't hear actual creativity put to a beat with a cool video, I shall go and buy a wife beater T-shirt, a rusting pick up, and start power drinking Fifty. And I'll have YOU FUCKERS FINALLY MADE ME CRACK tattooed on my back. But in kanji, because, you know, I want to fit in.



My hair is as long as Beck's in this video. Therefore, we are brothers.

Remember, the P is Silent in Pwned

An interesting day. Well, not really, but I say that so that the crushing ennui doesn't get me in a chokehold I don't have the strength--right now--to break out of.

Today, I taught a sixty year old man how to tell a female bird from a boy bird. It was only afterwards that I found myself wondering how you make it to sixty without anyone ever telling you that. Or, for that matter, learning it yourself.

Saw a woman reading a book while she drove down Richmond.

Saw another woman in her underwear, wearing her husband's shirt for modesty, picking up her recycling from the road, where neer' do wells had thrown it after a night of reading Marx. Probably.

Endured London radio talk show hosts, poisoning the air with enforced folksiness coupled with hard edge conservatism. Funny quote, oft repeated? And I use 'funny' in its more dire, dual edged sword of irony? "As much fun as baked beans on a bus trip!!"

This town....I swear... we get the media we deserve.

Do Celestials Dream of Kirby Sheep?

I've been off and on with the X-Men over the past few years. They had me in their thrall from about the ages of 13 to 19, and like all comic fans, I fall prey to nostalgia far too often, picking up a few issues now and again, trying to find the old magic. Occasionally, there's a spark, but not enough to keep me around for long.

Yet I caved on Uncanny X-Men #500. The Alex Ross painting of my X-Men was part of the reason, with the rest being Brubaker and Fraction taking over the writing job. Since it seems Iron Fist has been cast into the fires of Near Cancellation, it's nice to see the boys aren't out peddling drugs. At least Marvel is keeping them off the streets with this.

It's also nice to see they loved the Eighties as much as I did. This issue has it all--Magneto, Sentinels, anti-mutant hysteria, the fastball special, and even Jim Dandy's favorite characer of all time, Dazzler.




But it was the Dreaming Celestial that caught my attention.

I've been caught up in the Marvel Cosmic lately, and seeing a bit of that creep in here made me smile. I mean, just what do Celestials dream of? And the idea that the Celestial is just standing there while San Francisco goes about it's day...is just so Chronoliths. Which is a very good book, and it's Canadian, so the CBC won't cry if you read it.

Joy, With Delayed Tears

So I was happy to hear about the new Doc Savage movie, since it seems there's a very big chance that it won't suck. I think I actually shouted from the couch when I heard the news. I really loved Doc Savage as a kid running around in shortpants in Delaware. You put 'Doctor' in front of any fictional character, and I'm pretty much there.

Saw Hellboy yesterday. Twas joyful. There were only about ten people in the theatre, no one talked, and even though I have a few problems with the film (the characters were rather broadstroked, with Hellboy being much more of a lunkhead than he is in the books, Johann being far more of an asshole, and Jeffrey Tambor's character serving no purpose whatsoever)I just felt spoiled by seeing two films that were true to their comic source material in one week. Del Toro crams the screen with all sorts of twitchy, gear infested creations that I just had to resign myself to missing so much. The horror element of the books was played down outside of a creepy scene in an auction house (the tooth fairies were rather nice), focusing more on the 'weird' aspects. Unlike Dark Knight, Hellboy didn't feel padded in places, and while not perfect, was enjoyable.

Afterwards, Vulcan Ninja and I entered the rarefied world of Masonville Mall, where I lived daringly and had an ice cream cone. Which is fun when you have a long, flowing Messianic beard. Afterwards, we browsed the bookstore, where I saw a young kid of about 15, clutching a Dark Knight novelization in his hands. He had that look in his eyes, one many readers here will know: that love of books, that half smile as he browsed the fantasy section, and I felt suddenly more old than usual. The poor kid. Before he knows it, he'll be in his mid-forties, blogging about movies on long dead pulp heroes.

Insert sigh....here.

Heading downtown to pick up comics, and probably the new Scars on Broadway album. The System may be gone, but the Scars live on.

The Next Movie I've Just Gotta See!!

After the pure awesomeness of The Dark Knight,, I think this film may actually blow it out of the cinematic water. I'm getting my tickets today!!

Wow.

First, let me say: I was totally rooting for the Joker. From the first appearance of Heath Ledger on screen in The Dark Knight, I kept finding myself getting impatient for him to appear again. His portrayal of the Joker is simply that good. The incessant tongue flicking, the mouth that seemed too full of saliva, the shifting, coiling energy of an animal that is forever ready to strike: Ledger's Joker was simply fascinating to watch.

Director and co-writer Chris Nolan keeps the Batman mythos were it works best: deep in the grime of the inner city, creating what is more a crime story than it is one of superheroes. His insistence on keeping green screen work to a minimum gives the film a sense of weight that over FX-ed films never achieve, so we feel the punches, and we get a sense of vertigo when Batman leaps off a skyscraper. For a film centering around a man who thinks fighting crime dressed as a bat is a good idea--even in a helmet that limits his vision and hearing--it makes it feel at least plausible.

Besides the genius Ledger displays, the other actors hold their ground fairly well. Aaron Eckhart is very good as Harvey Dent, showing the tragic fall of a very good man in a very bad city. Gary Oldman as Jim Gordon is, after Ledger, perhaps my favourite actor here, giving Gordon a different sort of energy, that of a man not comfortable in his own skin, uncertain of everything outside of what he believes to be right. Maggie Gyllenhall is a far better Rachel than the one we had last time, actually looking to be the same age as Christian Bale this time round. And Bale continues to be the best Batman we've ever had, even if his character is easily the most boring one on screen. He's solid, anchoring the film as the madness spins and swirls around him, the order against the Joker's far more exciting chaos.

If I have any criticisms, it might be that the film runs perhaps twenty five minutes too long. The introduction of Two Face--while wonderfully ghastly--seems too veer out of character for Dent. There was a point where I could buy Dent's transformation into Two Face, and even his action afterwards to a point (it involves two deliberate actions, which should have been enough), but the choice to escalate his character's actions felt false.

There were also some rough editing choices, which make me wonder how much of it was Nolan cutting back his rumoured three hour version of the film or the studio frantically trying to maintain a PG-13 rating. (Note: this is NOT for kids. Trust me on this. The Joker kills a lot of people in this film.) There are two scenes with the Joker that just jump cut, with not a lot making sense in the transition. There is also another scene that effectively leaves the Joker alone with an entire room of wealthy people, with no explanation of just what in hell happened next. Was there just an uncomfortable silence for a few minutes before the Joker waited for the elevator to arrive?)

Still, The Dark Knight , even with it's few faults, is a superb film made even more precious by the last performance of a man giving a mesmerizing performance as the greatest villain in comic book history. The memory of Heath Ledger doesn't need the justification of an Oscar to highlight his brilliance here: The Dark Knight--and fans-- will memorialize it forever.

What The Doctor Ordered

Rumours abound today that the BBC is offering David Tennant $1.5 million dollars of cold cash to stick around for Season Five of Doctor Who. As usual, many people have passed out at their keyboards at such an astronomical sum, ignoring the fact that each member of Friends
were pocketing a million for a single episode in their show's final run.

If this is true, it's not hard to see why the penny pinching Beeb would dig so deep. Doctor Who is in a golden era right now, an era that everyone involved knows can't last forever. While the diehard fans will always be there (we did endure the Colin Baker/Sylvester McCoy years, after all), the fickle public is still engaged with the show, four years on. Much of this has to do with Tennant: he's cute, playing well with both sexes that find him adorable, he seems to actively enjoy his role as the Doctor, and he's been very open and available to fans (especially DWM, where he seems to be on staff at the magazine with the amount of articles he's been involved in, from in-depth interviews on set to simply answering any question fans lob his way). As well--and I think this plays a very large role--he's a fan of the show himself. He loves Doctor Who, and it shows in his work. While many other actors would bristle at the brutal shooting schedule and lack of privacy, Tennant understands how magical the role of the Doctor is--and of how lucky he is to be playing him.

But there are other factors at play here outside of having a lead actor who loves his job. With the departure of Russell T. Davies, the show will change. Steve Moffat is a fan favourite with his more cerebral stories, and it's not a leap to think his approach will be perhaps less populist than that of RTD. Whereas Davies would go for the cheap guffaw (farting aliens), Moffat seems to prefer his humour to be a bit more dignified. With an undeniable shift in focus, it's important to keep some things the same--like having the same Doctor. With a new showrunner and new companions, a new Doctor may bring about the end of the golden age quicker than anticipated.

As well--who else could they get? Robert Carlyle has been booted around as a possible replacement, but Carlyle--like Christopher Eccleston--isn't someone who would be around for the long haul. Having another Doctor For A Year isn't what the show needs as Moffat gets his feet underneath him.

So I think it's money well spent to keep Tennant around for a bit longer. I think after Season Five, though, it's time to seriously think about a replacement. And I think I've found the perfect one.

Vacation, All I Ever Wanted

So how have I spent my vacation? Been doing my best to ignore all the reading I have to do for EVE, have been trying to find a new job that will pay me half a million a year to sit behind a black marble desk and simply ponder things over my steepled fingers. Have also tried to fix files on my computer, making me gasp with horror that after four years of faithful service, I may soon be back writing on a small black chalkboard with a picture of Snoopy on the corner. I have finished reading Star Wars: Darth Bane: Path of Destruction, which I enjoyed, even though it's a rewrite of an old Dark Horse comic book series that now has KOTOR shoehorned to fit the continuity. It was also the first Star Wars novel that made me flinch, and this time not at the story. Picked up my first Dresden Files novel, intrigued by the rabid fan base this series has following it, and while it seems to show promise, I need something a little more challenging right now. That smug bastard Cryptonomicon is still bragging that I can never finish it, so that fucker does down.

As well, I did some research on The Bungalow, heading out to Westminster Ponds to visit the old vet hospitals--now all boarded up and empty--that I'm basing the story on. Creepy, lost little world out there. It looks like the set for a cheap horror film out there. Or the basis for a cheap horror story, take your pick.

And--damn it all--it looks like I might have to brave the cinema to see this Batman film everyone is talking about. That's just asking for trouble, I know. I just know I'll sit down just as some gargantuan guy in a Final Crisis T-shirt carrying six buckets of popcorn and five Extra Large Jumbo cokes will sit down beside me, puff on his inhaler he keeps around his neck, then launch into a loud discussion of the film and how it veers from the classic O'Neil/Adams era of Batman, and of how Cesar Romero was the best Joker ever. Oh, and he'll fart. And he'll giggle each time.

I love comic book fans. No, really, I do.

Awesomeness from Occasional Superheroine

I found this over at one of my favourite comics blogs, Occasional Superheroine. You know if she can find treasure like this, she's worth reading.

Back Into Space

The contract arrived today, so it looks like I've been blessed again--I've been rehired by EVE to write more missions. I is now a video game riter fer reel! Shouldn't I be at E3, sipping ten dollar coffees with Morgan Webb? I should be. If there were any justice in this sad, sorry world.

On vacation with Vulcan Ninja. She's ODing on Jane Austen again ( I swear, how many times can you read the same books, watch the same miniseries over and over again? If it was Star Wars I could understand, but I don't there's a single laser gun in any of those Austen books, so what's the appeal?) For me, I'm trying to prove I'm worthy of being called a man by finishing Call of Duty 3, but since I keep getting nauseous from all the running and gunning, it's been a challenge. That, and trying not to type extremely nasty things to the meatheads I come across in World of Warcraft. I hear so much about the community to be found in MMOs--I think they're all lies.

And who the hell moved IRON MAN? I wanted to see that on my vacation, but poof! Gone!

Nice To See I'm Not Alone

So I've now seen the final episode of Doctor Who Season 4, Journey's End. There was much to ponder, but since I'm not Spoiler Boy, I'll leave my thoughts to myself until the rest of the world catches up with me. Because the whole world does read this blog. I'm especially big on the outskirts of Tokyo. But I will share one mystery that has bothered me ever since the final credits rolled...

... what the hell was up with Billie Piper's teeth? I mean, was her tongue pierced ten minutes before the cameras rolled? Had she eaten a tube of model glue on a dare? Had she an accident with a nailgun, mistaking it for dental floss?

Glad to see I'm not alone in my pondering of the oral mysteries of Ms. Piper. And that sounded kind of wrong, but I'm not sure why.

Batman Is On The Wacky Tabaccky

The thing is, I really want to enjoy Batman R.I.P. It's just that I think Grant Morrison is deliberately writing a comic that will make me feel stupid. Not everyone--just me. Because I've read Batman since I were but a wee shaver, and when I sit down at night and write my life achievements on a scroll, I always put BIG BATMAN FAN at the top. Yet when I read R.I.P, with these little Zur-en-ah nods everywhere, I truly have no fucking idea what's going on.

Batman's on crystal meth? Tim Drake is now an adult? There are alcoholic ghosts wandering Gotham? And now Bat-Mite's back?

It almost makes me miss Chuck Austen, I tell you.

That's It, I'm In Hell

Kathryn Immonen's Hellcat is getting good reviews.

That's it, boys.Pack it in. Comics are now dead to me....forever!

I Could Lose Myself In Those Eyes

Even if you're not a Who fan, this is all shades of awesome. And that last song? Tears in my eyes, I tell you.

The Devil You Know

I have many things to be ashamed of, and many people to remind me of them. But perhaps my greatest shame was never actually completing Diablo II. Now, with all the hoopla over that announcement
, I felt I had to go back and try again.

Of course, there were problems loading a nearly ten year old game, but after a quick patch, I was back into my old stomping grounds. And it felt comforting to be back, like I'd pulled on a long forgotten T-shirt. I remembered how awesome I thought the game looked when I first tried it, and of the nights spent playing in Multi-Player with people you always said you'd hook up with later, but then never did. (Just like Warcraft!)

And speaking of that game...I quit my third guild after enduring one too many hours of Netspeak and 14 year olds pissily fighting with each other. I will make 70. Morgan Webb wants us to, and I never disobey her.

I shudder to see how much drivespace Blizzard is taking up on my soul. DC Comics must be starting to panic.