"Of Chins and Chainsaws"

This is something I wrote for an English composition class several years ago, and it's probably the best essay I've ever written. It went on to win first place in a campus-wide essay contest, by unanimous vote. That doesn't mean it's good, mind you, but it's my very best work. Enjoy . . . or don't. But hopefully you will! :)

(Disclaimer: Good, bad or whatever, it's still my most prized work. So please, read, enjoy, share with friends, but don't plagiarize, or I will be very unhappy. Okay? Thanks, y'all.)

OF CHINS AND CHAINSAWS

By 

CHRIS ROLL

3 September 2008      

            The scene depicts a heroic figure standing tall against the forces of evil. There is an imperious smirk plastered across his face as he brandishes a large, powerful chainsaw in place of his right hand. A beautiful woman in a torn pink dress clings to his left leg for dear life as a sword-wielding skeleton crawls toward them. In the background we see that the noble hero is surrounded by a medieval army, who may or may not harbor some malicious feelings toward him and the fair maiden (but it is highly likely that their intentions are not noble). This is an iconic image, evoking many others from years gone by, ranging from the world of swords and sorcery created by the likes of Robert E. Howard and Frank Frazetta to one of Chevy Chase’s many horrific vacations; indeed, it even hearkens back to the days when the ancient Greeks and Romans carved idealized images of their gods into timeless marble. So what is it about this particular image that makes it special? What stands out most in the eyes of the viewer? More importantly, where exactly did it come from?

            A select group of people would recognize this image immediately as the beautifully painted poster for Sam Raimi’s 1993 film Army of Darkness, the final installment of the Evil Dead trilogy (which has an extremely dedicated cult following). The hero is Ashley J. Williams, a cynical college drop-out portrayed by the tall, clean-cut B-movie actor Bruce Campbell (notable for his trademark chin and Superman-like dark hair). Although one might dispute what possible merit the poster for a grisly cult movie might have when compared to similar works of epic art from a higher level of class and prestige, I prefer to ignore the conventions of what are considered high and low forms of art. Whether or not this work deserves to be compared to the paintings of Michelangelo or Da Vinci is a matter of personal opinion (although it is highly unlikely that a painting of Bruce Campbell will ever appear in the same exhibit as the Mona Lisa), but what it all comes down to is a simple question: do I like it? In a boundless sea of images, made nearly infinite by digital media, why am I attracted to this one? With so many great works of art to ponder, from Norman Rockwell’s work for the Saturday Evening Post to the breathtaking comic art of Alex Ross, why do I return to Army of Darkness?

            The attention to detail makes it clear that a great deal of time and care went into painting the image. The first thing one might notice is the sheer darkness of the background, which contrasts with the stark white complexion of the bare-chested hero. The second thing that sticks out (quite literally) is said hero’s rather overwhelming chin. And while he has a lovely damsel in distress on one leg, the other is being assaulted by several tiny doppelgangers, who are attempting to stab him with a fork and set his pants ablaze with a match. Also, there is a rather interesting meeting between two eras, as the hero’s contemporary attire, his chainsaw, and the battered wreckage of an Oldsmobile his right foot is firmly planted on seem to clash with the castle and medieval warriors in the background. The image is sly without condescension, and although at first glance it is just an attempt by its creator to be funny, closer inspection reveals the amount of love that was poured into it. Take, for instance, Ash’s cheeky expression, which conveys a broad range of possible thoughts, from “what, me worry?” to “God, I look good!” His very stance suggests that he is cut from the same cloth as many swashbuckling heroes before him, an unholy amalgamation of Errol Flynn’s Robin Hood, Captain Kirk, and of course Conan the barbarian.

            Of course, the fact that I like the movie (for reasons I cannot begin to understand or explain) helps, but I think the image speaks to a lot of people in that it appeals to our imaginations. What man hasn’t fantasized about being a great hero at some point or another, conquering insurmountable odds with valor and wit, while defending the life and honor of a gorgeous damsel in distress? Granted, these fantasies generally die out as adolescence gives way to the responsibilities and anxieties of adulthood, but that is why the poster appeals even more to adults, because it reawakens the spirit of childhood long since left behind. So yes, as a tired, beleaguered, and imaginative college student, the image of this smug, time-displaced hero standing defiantly against the aptly-named Army of Darkness does indeed appeal to me. Another possible appeal to adults may be that Ash himself represents something more than most of us can ever hope to become. He has the perfect physique, flawless hair, and smashing good looks that make even the most prominent of Hollywood leading men feel inferior for a fleeting moment. It’s disheartening for most men, myself included, to acknowledge the fact that they will never be the six-foot-four heroic ideal. Nevertheless, Ash represents what most of us aspire toward, but can never be. Of course, the chainsaw is also a draw in and of itself. Not only are we envious of Ash as a heroic symbol, but we are also very much enthralled by his weapon—a giant power tool! The very fact that it is out-of-place in the medieval image is what makes it entertaining, and it also stands as a testament to Ash’s physical strength (I actually tried to heft a chainsaw of similar size into a heroic, Ash-like pose, and it took all of my might just to hold it off the ground with one arm!). 

            Another aspect to consider might be what women see in the image. I am not so arrogant as to presume to understand the artistic tastes of women, but I was able to draw a few conclusions after some careful pondering. Firstly, I tried to imagine how a woman might react to seeing the way the damsel in distress clings helplessly to Ash's leg, practically swooning in his manly presence. She is clearly in danger, but she seems oblivious to the utter bleakness of the situation, choosing to concentrate more on maintaining the fine balance between looking seductive and innocent. This naturally begs the question, of course: what does the female viewer make of this? Would she be offended by the idea of a woman being portrayed as an inept sex symbol, relying on the archetypical male to save her from the forces of evil, or would she simply find it funny? The answer (as horrifying as it is to make this comparison) lies within a literary genre almost expressly targeted at women: the romance novel. Whether we as men like to admit it or not, we have seen our share of romance novels at some point or another, and they all seem to have a common thread: the cover. Almost every romance novel has a lushly-painted cover of a scantily-clad, swooning woman falling into the arms of a muscular, bare-chested Lothario (who usually resembles the model Fabio to some extent or another), and quite a few show some ominous form of evil lurking in the background. The chainsaw also plays a part in the way women might perceive the image, albeit in a somewhat more lewd way (i.e. if Ash is that good with a chainsaw, what else is he good at?). Also, she might see the woman’s expression as more than just the lustful gaze of a medieval tart. She might instead point out a rather admirable quality: a woman’s faith in her man (and judging by the look on Ash’s face, he clearly has faith in himself). She fears nothing, because she knows Ash will protect her . . .  how unlike the men of today, who have seemingly lost all semblance of chivalry! Could it be that many women actually like the idea of a powerful, sensuous male protector, even in this age of women taking on more dominant roles in relationships? Could women actually be enamored by the sardonic wit of this smirking savior (whose most romantic line in the movie is “Give me some sugar, baby.”)? I believe the answer, in at least a select amount of cases, is yes.

            I think the image contains a lot of appeal for men and women alike, due to its quirky humor and painstaking attention to detail. But the ultimate question is this: why do I like it? What makes it special to me? Simply put, it appeals to my imagination. Despite its lack of originality and “taste”, it has an intangible, irreverent charm that makes it impossible to overlook. It may not be the scholar’s definition of high art, but it reminds me of years gone by, when I had time to daydream and imagine what the hero’s life could be. I can’t truly speak for anyone but myself, but this singular, timeless quality makes it truly special to me, and I hope others can find (or have found) the same sense of fun and imagination.

Some Long-Winded Rambling about Comic Books

Y'know, I really am a massive nerd. Like, ridiculously so.

 I started reading comic books 16 years ago. I had had a decent idea of who Batman and Superman were, and I got a Sonic the Hedgehog comic at one point, but the spark that started the blaze in my mind was my first exposure to Marvel. I remember the day I got my first Marvel comic even now, oddly enough. I had been with my parents as they sold candles and other items at a crafts fair. Afterward, they bought me Spectacular Spider-Man #221, dated February 1995, which featured the death of Doctor Octopus and incredible artwork by Sal Buscema and Bill Sienkiewicz. But that wasn't my FIRST Marvel, in the strictest sense.

It was the previous Christmas. Mom and Dad had bought me a board game the likes of which I had never seen before, called "Marvel Super Heroes." Now, even though I knew what a super hero was, I had no idea what "Marvel" meant. Honestly, I'm still not a fan of the word, and it rubbed me the wrong way then. What a pretentious word, to tout one's product as being "Marvelous," or a "Marvel!" In my head, I always hear the word spoken in a snooty, Cruella De Vil kind of voice, but nevertheless, I knew immediately that there was something special about these super heroes.

Let's look at this from a 6-year-old's eyes (and in many ways, my views have not changed): Superman was as open and earnest and friendly as anyone or anything I had ever seen, but Spider-Man wore a full mask and bore the likeness of my least-favorite creepy-crawly--that latter detail alone was enough to intrigue me! Batman was dark and brooding, and he had those wicked wrist blades . . . but Wolverine? That guy had freaking STEAK KNIVES coming out of his fists, and didn't care if his suit was all shredded up. And let's face it, Lex Luthor just looks like a chrome-domed poseur when compared to a diabolical mastermind like Doctor Doom, and the Joker's smile was about as creepy as Captain Kangaroo's when compared to Venom's choppers.

I like to draw. I like X-Men. "X-Men" is the property of 

Marvel. I drew this for fun. Please don't copy, and Marvel,

please don't sue. Thanks!

My appetite for four-colored adventures swiftly became voracious, and I quickly began amassing a collection. Mom picked up a four-pack of #1's, including X-Men, Cage, Spider-Man 2099 and, to my shame, NFL SuperPro (unfortunately, only one, Spider-Man 2099, is still even remotely intact). Once I started reading X-Men . . . well, it was "Game Over." I'd never seen ANYTHING like that before. I had no idea what an "X-Man" was, either, but whatever it was, I sure liked it. Cyclops, Wolverine, Colossus, Rogue and Professor X I knew from the board game, as well as the uber-menacing Magneto, but characters like Psylocke, Jean Grey and Gambit were new to me (I never did understand why Jean didn't have a codename; I had no idea it was the result of prior psychological trauma--or editorial laziness, one or the other). The X-Men became my all-around favorites for over ten years, and Uncanny X-Men is still one of the select few comics I keep on reserve at The Book Nook in West Plains for when I occasionally roll back into town, along with Captain America and Deadpool.

When I was around 7 or 8, my mom bought me a bag of old DC comics from the 1970s. OH, how I wish they were still fully intact! Anyway, these old-school mags consisted of two issues of Action Comics, one issue of Superman, two issues of All-Star Comics (starring the Justice Society. I knew about the Justice League, but the Justice SOCIETY was a foreign concept. Surprisingly, the old-fashioned JSA became my favorite lineup of DC characters, far overshadowing the more "contemporary" League, but I digress) and a really old Charlton comic called Midnight Tales. Now, I was not then nor am I now a big Superman fan, but there was something about those classic Cary Bates/Elliott S! Maggin written, Curt Swan drawn, covers by Nick Cardy and Neal Adams comics that really struck my fancy. That was an era of Superman comics I could enjoy--sure, they were cheesy, and more often than not he was just fighting common criminals, but sometimes . . .

After Nick Cardy, 1975. Superman and Green Lantern are the property

of DC Comics, and my art is purely for fun (although if, for some reas-

on, my work strikes the fancy of an industry professional, I will gladly 

offer my services and skills, limited though they may be.)

This leads into the greatest discovery of all. One of the issues of Action Comics, from 1975, was entitled, "Beware the Hero Killers!", and on the cover was Green Lantern lying dead with an irate policeman holding up GL's limp arm and pointing an accusing finger at a perplexed and frightened Superman, shouting, "You killed him! You murdered Green Lantern!" I didn't know anything about Green Lantern then, save that the folk rock singer Donovan claimed to have abilities that far surpassed both his and Superman's (in the truly odd '60s gem "Sunshine Superman"). It was a pretty epic yarn, wherein a shadowy figure hires two rock-like aliens of universal renown to off Earth's mightiest super hero. They take on human form and attack Superman, but it turns out that he is not their target: Green Lantern is, and they're using Superman to get at him. The shadowy figure turns out to be the evil mastermind Sinestro, and when he comes to collect GL's body, it turns out Supes was wise to the scheme and helped GL fake his death. GL takes out Sinestro and drops him off on Oa, and the issue ends on a jolly note. I was completely blown away, and as such, I started seeking out more adventures of this Green Lantern fella (off-subject, I recently drew an inverted rendition of the classic cover by Nick Cardy. Granted, it will look better in color, and my art still needs a LOT of work, but it was fun to take a stab at a personal favorite). Oh, and there was also a bonus feature by Mike Grell starring Green Arrow and Black Canary. GA's facial hair was truly unsettling, but the story was fun.

Same old deal. I like drawing Green Lantern.

I'm not making any money off this. You don't

copy, I don't get sued, we're all happy. 

Anyway, I became a hardcore Green Lantern fan from that day onward. Of course, due to the comics I had at the time, I was confused by the fact that there was this Green Lantern in the Superman comic and then a blond-haired, red-shirted Green Lantern in the Justice Society, and then there was this Guy Gardner guy (no pun intended) running around with the Justice League International. Needless to say, that took a LOOOOOONG time to straighten out, but now I love them all. However, part of the problem of starting off with old comics is that it leaves you ill-prepared for the shock-and-awe stories that predominated the '90s. I completely missed out on "Emerald Twilight" (I think it would have traumatized me anyway), and I had no idea that beloved classic GL Hal Jordan had gone nuts and been replaced by newcomer Kyle Rayner until I saw Rayner's likeness on a box of DC-themed macaroni and cheese. How sad is that? Not the best way for news about your favorite comic book character to be broken to you, let me tell ya. I immediately began amassing comic book knowledge, trying to figure out who this Rayner guy was and what happened to Hal Jordan . . . and I was not a happy camper when I found out. Making matters worse was when I learned DC had killed him off, and THEN, adding insult to injury, brought him back as the ghostly spirit of vengeance known as The Spectre. The poor guy could apparently have no dignity, in life, death, or anything beyond. I sullenly returned to my X-Men and Spider-Man comics, knowing that they would never disappoint me as Green Lantern had.

Flash forward a few years. Thanks to a truly clever writer named Geoff Johns (who completely screwed up some aspects of JSA but nevertheless saved them from certain death-by-obscurity), Hal Jordan was back in the saddle as Green Lantern. On Amazing Spider-Man, J. Michael Straczynski was doing no wrong, even with controversial storylines such as the Green Goblin fathering Gwen Stacy's children (horrifying, yes, but well written). On Astonishing X-Men, Joss Whedon (creator of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel, Dollhouse, Firefly, etc) was masterfully crafting the best run the franchise had seen in years. In Captain America, classic teen sidekick Bucky was very skillfully resurrected by writer Ed Brubaker, leading to some of the most entertaining stories I'd ever read (Bucky even kicked the crap out of Wolverine . . . in the Canucklehead's own comic, to boot!). Man, I didn't think anything could derail my love of comics!

Disaster struck. "And they shall call it . . . 'BRAND NEW DAY.'" "Brand New Day" was the follow-up to a well-written but horribly-ended story called "One More Day," which, like most terrible stories that screw up everything the fans have come to enjoy, was mandated by the powers that be at Marvel. In a nutshell, Spider-Man makes a deal with the devil to save his critically-injured Aunt May's life. What's the price? His marriage to Mary Jane Watson, red-headed supermodel extraordinaire, will be done away with. Like, literally never happened. Like, the devil healed Aunt May in return for erasing Peter and MJ's marriage from continuity. Seriously, kids, I don't know what (Marvel Editor in Chief) Joe Quesada was thinking (or smoking. Or huffing. Or drinking. Or injecting). That was a laaaaame way to try to "fix" a character who didn't need fixing. By letting Peter Parker grow up a little bit, it made him more relatable as a character. Turning him back into a free-swinger (man-ho, to be quite blunt; Peter was portrayed as sleeping with at least three different women within a year of this storyline, as if purposely slapping longtime readers in the face) who can't hold down a steady job was cheap. 

It didn't stop there. The editors at Marvel decided to completely screw around with the character's status quo. First off, long-deceased character Harry Osborn (the second Green Goblin) was "revealed" to have 
been living overseas all along whilst in drug rehab. He's divorced and dimwitted and the perfect "buddy" figure for his equally untethered buddy Pete-O. As for longtime ne'er-do-well (re: buttmonkey) character Flash Thompson, I guess they felt it would be fun for his life to take another swish around the bowl, too. He went to Iraq and got his legs blown off . . . great. That's . . . real thrilling, people. Real original. The only good thing to come out of that story is that he's now the new Venom . . . which is intriguing. Also, perennial super-baddie Doctor Octopus, who had recently metamorphosed from a tubby nerd to a powerfully-built, menacing figure in a trench coat . . . was again changed into a bald, atrophied invalid on a respirator, because for some reason, the trench coat look from the movie just wasn't cool enough . . . *sigh*  Classic villain Hammerhead became a cyborg, the original Venom became a white-clad lummox named ANTI-Venom (although, admittedly, Zeb Wells wrote a great three-issue limited series that made me like him a great deal), the NEW Venom became the Scorpion again . . . ehh. Because of these sweeping changes, I cannot bring myself to buy Spider-Man comics anymore. "Brand New Day" killed Spider-Man for me, and even though it brought a lot of new readers on board, it cost Marvel a LOT of dedicated Spider-fans. Not everything about the run has been awful, though. Zombie-Kraven the Hunter is a neat touch, as is 3rd-rate Green Goblin Phil Urich killing 3rd-rate Hobgoblin Roderick Kingsley and taking his costume for himself (I always hated how they resolved the Hobgoblin's identity mystery, and I'm glad Kingsley got taken out of the equation permanently). Still, I'm really wary of reboots, as they have a tendency to be just plain awful (remember Byrne's "Man of Steel?" I wish I didn't!).

Anyway, this ultimately leads up to "The New 52," which is DC's latest attempt at tying up old continuity and giving readers a fresh take on classic characters (completely ignoring the "if it ain't broke" axiom along with the fact that most of the characters they're rebooting have been rebooted plenty of times already, such as Supes, who's had a "Birthright," an "Infinite Crisis" and a "Secret Origin," none of which could quite nail his backstory quite right). I'm getting a little sick of world-altering crises, and even though this one at least has a reasonable explanation in the storyline "Flashpoint" I'm still not entirely sold. There are the familiar marriage screw-ups (i.e. Superman and the Flash are now bachelors, and even though the Flash supposedly remembers his old life, he's still dating someone else . . . ugh), the backstory screw-ups (so long, Ma and Pa Kent! We hardly knew ye!) and the WHAT THE HECK (Joker getting his face cut off)?!! Also, Superman loses the briefs, Wonder Woman regains hers, and everyone is now sporting a V-neck collar thanks to Jim Lee (I love the man's work, but seriously, why?!). 


For me, though, the worst thing about "The New 52" is that the classic, '40s-era characters, the Justice Society of America, who had ushered in the Golden Age of comic books and had experienced a huge resurgence in popularity thanks to Geoff Johns, were being swept out of the primary continuity of "The New 52" (the 52 new and/or rebooted comics that would herald the awesome power of retroactive continuity in action). Granted, DC has expressed interest in doing a "parallel earth" JSA series that would allow the team to do its own thing without being bound to the primary canon, much as the JSA existed in earlier comics. However, I still see it as cheap. The JSA as a concept deserves better than to be treated as a lesser group, and I think booting them out of the main story is a bad idea. Oh, sure, I'll read the new "Earth-2"-based comic just to give it a shot, and I hope it's excellent (I'm iffy on James Robinson, though; he's been flaky since Starman ended). In fact, I kinda hope it's the best of the batch, just so DC will remember that the JSA means MONEY--MY money, and the money of a lot of other people who love the old-fashioned heroes. I'm going to give "The New 52" a shot (Justice League and Green Lantern are waiting for me at my local bookstore back home, and I can't wait to take a gander), but honestly, I'm not too keen on it. I doubt the cosmetic changes will last particularly long (you don't redesign Superman, kiddies), and unless I'm sorely mistaken, I don't foresee some of the continuity changes sticking, either (although, granted, "Brand New Day" is going strong. I don't get it . . . I really don't).

What comics am I looking forward to most right now? 

First off, Green Lantern (DC). Johns writing, Doug Mahnke penciling--that's all I need. Throw in Sinestro as the lead character with Hal Jordan readjusting to life as a civilian and I'm there for the long haul. I know it's going to end with Hal getting the ring back, and I wouldn't have it any other way, but it's not about how long it takes you get there; it's how memorable the ride is.
Uncanny X-Men, the relaunch (Marvel). Thanks to the events of "X-Men: Schism," the X-Men are having some ideological disputes, with some following Cyclops and some following Wolverine, with a big battle between the two for good measure. I pick the same winner for the fight as I do for the better comic: Cyclops, thus I will be reading Uncanny instead of Wolverine and the X-Men. Cyclops is just a more fascinating, more powerful and more responsible character, and I'm eager to see where his story goes next. Little unsure about Colossus as the new Juggernaut, though, as he looks a little silly . . . *sigh* can't win 'em all.
Captain America and Bucky (Marvel). This one has been great so far, even though it's just been flashbacks with the "deceased" Bucky doing voice-over. Now, they left his story hanging in the main Captain America book, so I'm betting the Bucky who died in "Fear Itself" was just a Life Model Decoy. No way they'd go through the trouble of bringing the poor kid back just to kill him again.
Deadpool (Marvel). It's always stupid but it's also always fun. The pirate storyline was the best, though, second only to the one where Domino falls into a mountain of pancakes. Some stories, like the one where he goes into space and marries a hippopotamus-like alien, dragged on a little too far, though.
Justice League (DC). So I'm not too keen on the new continuity or the V-neck costumes. So what? Jim Lee's on a monthly book again! He's my favorite artist! Of course I'm gonna read it.
Aquaman (DC). Hold your horses, I know Aquaman is the absolute lamest character in the DC roster (second only, perhaps, to perennial Bat-baddy Maxie Zeus). Even the Prankster had more lasting appeal than this dunce, who doggy-paddled his way to the rescue with all manner of marine life in tow while wearing a skintight, salmon-colored shirt and green tights. I'm sorry, but even Marvel's Sub-Mariner, who wore a green Speedo and a belt with a seashell buckle, and had some seriously goofy little wings on his feet, had more dignity than Aquaman (first and foremost, he was ripped. Second, he had actual powers, whereas Aquaman . . . talked to fish). And Aquaman got even goofier in the '90s, when in an attempt to shake things up and make him a little bit grimmer and grittier, a story was written in which he got his hand chewed off by piranhas and replaced it with a harpoon. Riiiiiiiiight. So why am I excited about Aquaman now? Two words: Brightest Day. DC's 24-issue anthology of characters returned after the events of Blackest Night did more justice to Aquaman than anybody could have expected. While Hawkman and Hawkgirl's story felt more like filler than anything else, and Osiris and Maxwell Lord were scarcely mentioned in the main story, Aquaman, J'onn J'onnz, Firestorm and Deadman owned that book. Aquaman's supporting cast was quickly introduced and established, including his wife Mera, her "evil sister" Siren, his new sidekick Aqualad 2.0, and of course, his deadliest and most infamous foe, Black Manta (who is actually the new Aqualad's father). Plus, if nothing else, the scene where Aquaman accidentally summoned an undead shark was pretty epic. Anyway, Geoff Johns and Ivan Reis were able to revitalize--no, scratch that, you can't revitalize something that was never lively. No, what they did was breathe life for the very first time into a very stale character, and since they're handling the creative chores on Aquaman's new series, I'm curious to see if they can maintain the level of epic they had in Brightest Day.
Detective Comics (DC). Okay, I'm sold. Batman interests me again. Tony Daniel is excellent as a writer and an artist, although I don't know why they redesigned Bats' suit again, though . . . they just did for "Batman Incorporated."
Avengers: X-Sanction (Marvel). Not gonna lie, this one really has me stoked. Cable is coming back, thanks to the team of Jeph Loeb and Ed McGuinness, and he's going after the Avengers. I feel that the character of Cable has been horribly misused ever since the "Dream's End" story from ten years ago (and I don't know what the heck Soldier X was supposed to be), and even though "Messiah Complex" was interesting in concept, Cable still didn't get the treatment he deserved . . . he just got older and took on more scars. He's got a lot of potential to be a great character, and I'm excited to see, first, how Marvel will explain his survival of "X-Men: Second Coming" and also what's motivating him to attack the Avengers (probably some futuristic "you're going to destroy the world, hurt my daughter, allow some atrocity to occur, date my daughter" kind of thing, ala Terminator). Loeb's writing has been mediocre since his run on Batman with Jim Lee, but this may be just what the doctor ordered. I'm excited.


Books I'm going to ignore:


Fear Itself (Marvel). It looked good. But now that I've read up on it, I have no interest in actually reading it. It's another example of a forced "big event" book that's a last-ditch attempt to drum up money. There are too many tie-in books, too many uninteresting elements and simply too plodding a pace. The death of Bucky was a bad move, as well, as it reeks heavily of "editorial mandate," but I'm pretty sure it's just a cover-up for future black-ops adventures, so I'll suspend judgement for now.
Green Arrow (DC). If it were a prequel, I'd read it. It's Oliver Queen as a high-tech hero with a bow, with stubbly facial hair instead of the "fancy lad" Van Dyke he's run around with for almost 50 years. I'd enjoy it greatly if this were him starting out on his path to becoming the braying liberal by day, street-level vigilante by night hero we know and love him as, but it looks like this is GA's new status quo, replete with a brand new supporting cast of unknowns. *Sigh* Green Arrow just hasn't been fun since Brad Meltzer left (and Judd Winick just ran him into the ground). 
Justice League International (DC). I picked up #1, and I was disappointed. Dan Jurgens is a talented guy. But he can't write funny. JLI is supposed to be funny. There are humorous aspects, but they're mostly confined to characters bickering with each other . . . which we've already seen in the original run. Also, it's a little weird seeing Booster Gold as leader, and more importantly, Guy Gardner as the seasoned veteran of the crew, taking on an almost Wolverine-like role whereas in the old series he was just the jerk of the group. I enjoyed Batman's involvement, but without a massive shift in direction, this one's getting cancelled. Aaron Lopresti's art is solid, by the way, but Booster looks ridiculous. Time to bring back the old costume, kids! 
The Amazing Spider-Man (Marvel). Sorry, but while the foul stench of "Brand New Day" still lingers, I will not touch it. "Spider-Island" does look pretty good, though . . . if you can handle its links to "The Clone Saga" (which I actually didn't hate . . . that much). It's all leading up to "Spider-Man/Doctor Octopus: The End of the Earth" (or something like that), which will hopefully resolve Ock's problems. If so, I might give Spidey another chance. If not, then I guess I'm done with Spider-Man for the long haul.
Wolverine and the X-Men (Marvel). The show was odd enough. I'm not interested in the comic of the same name, Chris Bachalo notwithstanding. I'm not really crazy about Jason Aaron's writing, and frankly, I feel like this is the book that's getting Marvel's primary backing. It's just like the brand-wide "Civil War" that split the Marvel Universe down the middle, but instead of giving us two well-developed sides to a reasonable argument, it said, "Okay, kids, Iron Man's an evil G-man now! Sic 'im, Cap!" (on that note, I think it was a VERY bad idea to position Iron Man as an antagonist in the same year his movie came out. Kids who wanted to read Iron Man after seeing the movie were very shocked and dismayed, I'm sure) Anyway, this is exactly what I fear will happen with "Schism." It seems like Marvel is very purposely putting the "cool kids" with Wolverine and the "old fuddy-duddies" with Cyclops, stacking the deck against the original X-Man. Well . . . I honestly think Uncanny is going to be better, and I hope I'm not wrong. Kieron Gillen has already proven himself as a solid writer, and I'm excited to see where this story goes. Wolverine . . . has grown boring. 
Wonder Woman (DC). No. Just . . . no. 

That's all for now, I suppose. I will work on making my thoughts more concise, less scatterbrained, etc., from this point on. :)

Nerd Shirts

So, a few months ago my roommates started reading this book called The Game by Neil Strauss. The “game” it refers to is essentially pick-up artistry, and it outlines all the ways guys can make themselves appeal to women, no matter how unappealing they may actually be. One of the concepts in this book was called “peacocking,” which is when men dress in gaudy, vibrant and often outlandish attire in order to attract the attention of women, similar to the bright colors of the peacock. Well, even though I’ve never been the most fashionable of guys–considering my stocky build and general lack of funds–I nevertheless have a number of trademark wardrobe items. 

First off, I’m a big fan of Hawaiian shirts. Do I look kinda goofy in them? Yes. Yes, I do. But they’re comfortable, they make me look a bit less portly and they certainly make Bruce Campbell look smashing on Burn Notice. I’ve got ‘em in just about every color, with everything from floral designs to beachfront villages. But they’re not the crown jewel of my shirt collection.

I’m a die-hard novelty T-shirt collector, ever since my eldest brother first brought me a pair of Spider-Man T-shirts when I was about 11. I’ve got a few that I’m particularly fond of . . . the “Hulkamania” shirt, for starters . . . the Homer Simpson “Scarface” parody is probably my all-around favorite . . . the red-and-black, skull-and-crossed spoons “Cereal Killer” shirt . . . the “Couch Potato” shirt replete with a lounging Mr. Potato Head . . . even the “Mullet Removal Team” shirt is pretty clever. But when I really want people to know who I am and what kind of useless junk my mind is full of, I wear my nerd shirts. I’ve got my old Spidey shirts–bless ‘em, they still fit, although one is about to fall irreparably apart–and I have my Batman shirts, one of them black with a corduroy-like logo on the front. I have my Leinil Yu-drawn Marvel heroes shirt, grey with monochrome sketchwork. I have my black X-Men shirt that shows Wolverine practically leaping off my chest past the “X-Men” logo. I have my treasured Green Lantern shirts, one dark green with a glow-in-the-dark emblem, the other a brighter shirt with detailed shading and stenciled-in muscles. I have my Star Trek shirts, one of them a sky-blue tee with Mr. Spock throwing up the “V for Vulcan,” “Live long and prosper” gang signs . . . another a gold Captain Kirk shirt which I acquired after eating about 15 boxes of Frosted Shredded Mini-Wheats (because sending in $10 would have been too easy) . . . and of course, a blue tee with a blueprint of a phaser, with the caption “Set Phasers to Stun.”

Yeah, I’m well aware that I sound like a complete and utter goofus at this point. I know I’m a nerd, and frankly, I enjoy being one. Here’s the kicker: not just conventional “nerds” like my shirts. 

I’ve told the story of my first time eating at Shakespeare’s Pizza, when a cute girl saw my Captain Kirk shirt and complemented me on it, giving me the Vulcan salute. But this isn’t an isolated incident! Within a week of this, I went to a free Ludo concert on Hitt street, where a girl stared at me from across the street for 15 minutes before walking over and asking me where I got my Mr. Spock shirt. At the same concert, a lesbian girl also came over and told me she liked my shirt. Granted, the whole lesbian part didn’t work in my favor, but still, I appreciated the compliment.

 Every now and then I get noticed while walking with friends at the mall or other public places. One time I wore my "Set Phasers to Stun" shirt at Target (located on one end of the mall), where we had gone to get Icees (tasty stuff, highly underrated). A cute girl comes into the store, sees my shirt, compliments it and goes on her merry way. My roommates are stunned; my shirt is amazing. 

My shirts also got noticed in class and on campus. I wore my “Set Phasers to Stun” shirt to class, and my Spanish teacher–the absolute whitest, blondest, most random and yet most awesome Spanish teacher ever–got a real kick out of it. Another day, I wore my Captain Kirk shirt and got noticed by a girl who was talking with some friends near Speaker’s Circle. She and her group of friends all called me over and complimented me on my shirt. It was a pretty flattering moment . . . which then took a turn for the weird as I turned to walk to my next class and found myself face-to-face with a long-haired, bearded hippie fellow. He stared at me for a moment, giving me a complete once-over, and then smiled and said something along the lines of, “That’s incredible. I have to hug you for that.” Having done so (with much joyful vigor and brotherly love), he said, “Have a f***ing positive day, man!” 

This wasn’t the only time I had a fellow dude react positively (no pun intended) to my nerd shirts. I was leaving my economics class one morning only to be stopped by a monk, hailing from India, who told me I was wearing a sweet Batman shirt. I also had a not-so-positive (but nonetheless humorous) reaction when I wore my “muscle”-toned Green Lantern shirt on Free Comic Book Day, only to pass a scrawny, semi-Goth looking kid and his girlfriend. As soon as he saw me, his eyes widened, and he began to stare at my shirt. He shook his head in disbelief and exclaimed, “What the f***, man? You know what I mean, man . . . I mean, seriously?!” before continuing on his way laughing. I thought about retorting that at least I didn’t look like Justin Bieber leaving Marilyn Manson’s yard sale, but decided to let him have his moment. But the best (and most bizarre) was yet to come . . .

It was Cinco de Mayo. I was wearing the Kirk shirt and black slacks, essentially looking like a short-sleeved spittin’ image of Shatner (with the slick ’60s combover and the not-so-slick ’80s middle-age-esque spread. Ugh.). I had gone with the roommates and some friends from work to Shiloh’s, where I had a few people, the majority of them girls (no longer so surprisingly), smiling and saying, “Nice shirt.” Then we went to Trops, where I used my sweet Designated Driver card to get a tasty non-alcoholic slushie. As we’re all hovering around the bar area, a drunk guy sitting toward the end flashed me the Vulcan hand signal and requested I put him in the Vulcan death grip. I was a little wary; after all, he was pretty drunk, and for all I knew he was just looking for an excuse to punch somebody. Still, with my friends cheering me on, I complied. The guy feigned paralysis briefly, and I lamented that my “attack” would have been much more effective had I actually been a Vulcan. He laughed and replied, “Yeah, humans suck!” But what happened later, outside this bar, took the cake.

After Trops, we went to The Field House, which is a nice place with a big dance floor and a spacious upstairs area. There was a huge crowd there, but there was also a $5 cover charge, so we weren’t sure we were going to get in. Suddenly, one of my roommates said, “Screw this; we’re getting in.” Sure enough, about a minute later, the doorman returned inside for a moment, and while his guard was down all seven of us walked right in the front door. Unbelievable.

Anyway, we spent the rest of the evening there, but when this bar closed, everyone pretty much just stood around outside, too drunk to know what to do or where to go. While I hung around with my roommates and waited for them to lose some of their euphoria so we could head back to the house, I noticed a tall, drunken brunette leering at me from a few yards away. I didn’t think anything of it at first and returned to talking with my friends. All of a sudden, I realized that somebody had grabbed a handful of my butt, and wasn’t letting go! I turned around in shock, thinking somebody was trying to steal my wallet, but it was just the drunk girl, whose grin had increased tenfold and seemed very pleased with herself. 

“Can I smack it?” she slurred.

Aghast, my response was a Moe Szyslak-like, “Whaa-aa-aaaat?”

My roommates were ecstatic. “Yes! Do it!”

I was more shocked than anything . . . frankly, I was kind of insulted and repulsed . . . why in the world would she want to even touch me . . . except for the fact that she’s drunk and I’m dressed like Captain Kirk, I guess . . . but this was definitely a first. I raised an eyebrow incredulously and turned my back to her, leaving my fanny open to attack. 

“Bend your knees!” the girl commanded, laughing. I wasn’t too thrilled, but I bent my knees slightly.

A resounding SMAAAACK! rang out as she delivered a grade-A spanking. She was jubilant, I was disturbed, my roommates were laughing uproariously and a guy who was standing to the side (who may have been her boyfriend) was just kind of gaping in open-mouthed shock, pretty much the same reaction I would have had as a spectator to this bizarre spectacle. Whaaaat a night (I would later tell my roommates that I was wayyyy beyond “peacocking”–I was “peaKirking.”

Flash forward two months. I went to see “Green Lantern” in the theater, opening day, with a truly entertaining and wonderful girl friend of mine (note that “girl friend” has a vastly different context than “girlfriend.” I have plenty of the former, but none of the latter . . . *sigh*). I had to work that day (on a local newspaper’s editorial staff–best summer job ever!), so I thought it might not be appropriate to wear a nerd shirt; I wore my Hawaiian shirt with the beachfront village and palm trees instead, leaving my “muscle”-toned Green Lantern shirt in the car. After work, I quickly and eagerly changed shirts, wearing the Hawaiian shirt over it, open. In the theater, I was struck by how many people there were either elderly or middle-aged; not a youthful crowd that day. Nevertheless, it was still a pretty good movie–not as good as I had hoped, but not as bad as I had feared (I do encourage comic fans, sci-fi fans and action movie fans in general to watch it, though, especially with a friend. It’s fun, if nothing else). 

As we stood to leave, I noticed several of the middle-aged crowd wearing Green Lantern T-shirts–nothing fancy, just green shirts with the classic logo. A few smiled and eagerly complimented me on my shirt, prompting my surprised friend (who isn’t a comic book fan, per se) to say, “Wow, I’m here with the most popular guy in the theater.”

Exiting the theater, I noticed a tall, pale and skinny man, maybe pushing 30, talking on his cell phone. The lanky fellow had long, dark brown hair and was wearing a dark Hawaiian-style shirt and black shorts. He almost didn’t notice us, but when he did . . . his jaw visibly dropped, his eyes widened, his cell phone hand immediately dropped to his side and he began to gape slack-jawed at me.

“Duuuuuuuuuude,” he intoned, as if summoning some dark creature from the beyond, a worshipful tone in his voice. “Wheeeeeeeerrrrrrrrrrrrre?!”

I realized he was staring at my shirt, and I told him a friend of mine had spotted it at Spencer’s Gifts in the Columbia Mall (I’m typically kinda freaked out by Spencer’s, but I’m grateful to have found the shirt). The guy nodded solemnly, taking mental note. “I’ll look for it online,” he said.

After my friend dropped me off at my car, I went to Sonic for a Java Chiller (amazing–you should try one). I parked in the slot directly in front of the door, and the carhop, a stocky red-haired girl with glasses, came out to take someone their order. As she walked outside, her eyes instantly settled upon me. A shy, awkward smile creased her face as she made eye contact, and I was again unsure as to what just happened. Minutes later, she brought me my Java Chiller, and as she gave me my change, she quickly added, “By the way, I love your shirt.”

I replied, “Haha, thanks. I’m kind of a nerd; I just saw the movie today.”

Then I realized she may have been referring to my Hawaiian shirt, and quickly backtracked. “Wait, did you mean this shirt or . . . ?”

She looked just as awkward as I felt, and said, “Ummm, both of them, I guess.” 

Thus endeth that awkward moment.

The point I’m trying to make is, nerd shirts are a great ice-breaker. They may have some stigma of social deviance attached to them (“nerd” is still a bit of a hostile, demeaning term in today’s society, even though it is gaining more social acceptability. Even people who refer to themselves as nerds, such as myself, still tend to blush or “admit” it rather than say it with pride), but if they reflect something you genuinely like, they can be an excellent way of standing out, of making people notice you. And even the least outwardly-nerdy among us still remember watching “Spider-Man” or “Star Trek” as a kid. Pretty girls won’t give the neatly-dressed nerd with a pocket protector the time of day, but take it from me, they will acknowledge the guy who confidently wears Mr. Spock or Batman on their chest. And let me tell ya, even the slightest of quirky smiles, the quickest of “Live long and prospers,” and the most hastily-mumbled blurtings of “Hey, nice shirt” is enough to make this nerd’s heart flutter just a little bit and make him stand just a little bit taller, even if just for a moment or two.

*Writer's note* When the time came to pick up my books this semester at the University Bookstore, I wore my Mr. Spock shirt. A girl who worked there said I was her hero for wearing that shirt. Heck yeah, I've still got it! ^_^

Political Turmoil? Yeah, What Else Is New?

*Sigh* These government shutdown rumors didn't faze me too much. If anything, the situation simply proves that our elected leaders are every bit the spoiled children we have always suspected them to be, preferring to take their respective balls and go home rather than actually work out solutions that benefit the country they "serve."

And you know what? This isn't exactly the first time we've faced a government shutdown. It happened back in 1995 (again due to head-butting amongst our two primary parties) and we're still here. However, it's still going to cause a lot of problems, especially if it's a relatively long-term problem. Most disturbing is that if this shutdown were to happen, there is a chance our military will go without pay. This is sick. Our military, whether you support every mission they are sent on or not, nevertheless risks life and limb out of duty to our country, and they have made numerous personal sacrifices in order to keep us safe. The absolute least our childish politicians can do is see to it they are at least monetarily rewarded for all they have done for us.

I'll admit, both Republicans and Democrats have me pretty disgusted right now. However, one key issue this should bring to the forefront of our thought and discussion is the budget. People, we need to cut spending. Look at the amount of debt we're in right now. Look at the condition of our economy. The government is spending money on a LOT of really, really dumb things, and also a lot of not-so-dumb things that nevertheless need to be curbed. If we are to have any hope of rejuvenating our economy, maybe we should put our special interests on the back burner and focus on things that actually make a difference to the daily life of ALL Americans, not just the lobbyists of the week.

What matters to all of us? Education. Our public school system suuuuuuucks. Yes, we have a lot of very capable teachers and a lot of good materials out there, but the program itself is flawed. Our children need to be provided a school experience that leaves them intellectually competent, physically fit and interested in improving the world around them. They need to understand the concepts of curiosity, accountabilty and good citizenship. And it's not just the public school system that needs maintenance and improvement, but also colleges. In this society, a good education is vital to a prosperous nation. Better education means better jobs, and even if the job market remains sparse, knowledge is still something that cannot be taken away by any recession.

Also, national defense is important to our nation. Do I support nuclear warfare and weaponry? Heck, no--but we still need to understand how it works and how to counter it. Also, as one of the world's superpowers, let's face it, we've got a target painted on us. No matter how much we try to provide aid to struggling nations and promote goodwill amongst those around us, we're still criticized for not doing enough. Whenever we try to remove harmful dictators who destroy their own people, we are called warmongers and condemned for our "ulterior motives" (You know what, I don't care if the Iraq war was all about oil--I'm glad Saddam is gone. What I do care about is the fact that it was a poorly-executed war that resulted in far more lives lost than could ever be deemed necessary, but even though the means were horrifically flawed, that one result was nevertheless a positive one, even if the product of a Pyrrhic victory). Y'know, other countries really don't like us--we're fat, stupid, arrogant slobs who don't give a crap about the rest of the world. Fat, stupid, arrogant slobs who provided $44.9 billion in foreign aid in 2009. You know what? Yes, we are too bloody self-absorbed for our own good. Yes, we could probably use a healthy dose of humility and a refresher course in responsibility and self-discipline. But we do care. We definitely do care. But I digress--the point is, a lot of people hate us, and 9/11 proved that America's enemies are not afraid to attack us on our home turf. As such, we need to keep our military strong and capable. We need to constantly strive for peace while being prepared for war if it should arise--as the term "national defense" states, we must be prepared to defend our nation. Should our troops still be in the Middle East right now? That's a matter of opinion. But we still need to keep our military well-supported and prepared. Granted, there are probably a lot of areas within the military that we don't need to spend quite so MUCH money on, so some cuts can certainly be made there.

We also need to maintain our infrastructure. For instance, road improvements and maintenance are vital to our country, not only because they keep us driving smoothly but because they provide much-needed jobs. Let's hear it for MODOT!

Those three are the main things. Of course, Social Security is important. Of course, if we can find some way to make universal healthcare work without completely f***ing up our system, that would be a positive, too. Of course, there are plenty of aid programs and government policies that do a lot of good and need to be maintained. But after that? We need to take a hatchet to our spending, and there's a lot of crap that needs to go.

But y'know what? The sweeping changes that need to be made to our budget aren't going to happen in the foreseeable future because our government is too wrapped up in partisan rhetoric and one-upping one another. I think next year will be a very interesting one for the American people. Unless Palin gets the nomination (God help us all), I honestly don't foresee Obama winning his reelection bid. I'm sorry, but this was exactly what I expected from his presidency--not a disaster, by any means, but not a particularly effective leader. I mean, he's quite possibly the most whitebread president we've ever had, which is really kind of ironic. What's really funny is that he himself really didn't promise all that much, but with everyone from Oprah to Hulk Hogan telling us he was the savior of the free world, the Great African-American Hope, the hype really became ridiculous. Barack Obama seems like a pretty cool guy. I'd gladly meet him if I were given the chance--we'd grab some chicken parm at The Rome and talk comics--but I don't think he's got the experience or the assertive personality necessary to make the "Change" our country actually needs. Obama's not the right guy for the presidency, and hopefully we'll have a better choice next year. Has Obama ruined the country? Nahhh, and honestly, he's done better than I expected him to. But he's still not the guy for the job. That's that.

Of course, the biggest problem we have with our economy stems from the American people themselves. As a society, we're pretty f'd up. Our values system is soooo greedy and based on instant gratification. Bottom line: a system that allows people to rack up umpteen-thousand dollar credit card debts needs some changes, BUT the society within it, which is so obsessed with getting as much as possible for as little as possible, is in need of an overhaul more than anything. Seriously, we've got to learn to live within our means . . . but hey, that's another essay I have buried somewhere which I will find, retype and post eventually.

So far, it looks like we're not going to have a shutdown. As you may have noticed, I wrote most of this last week, when it looked like we WERE going to have one. I still needed to get a lot of BS off my chest, though. Nevertheless, from what I've heard, it seems as though our military personnel were not properly paid last week. THAT, if it is the case, is ridiculous.

Oh, and my tax return might not be mailed on time. Thrillville.

A COMPLETE Waste of Your Time and Mine

Here’s a text conversation I had last Thursday. It all started with this:

Her:  Hey its lexie this is my new #

Me:  Im sorry, im not sure i know a Lexie. Who is this?

Her:  Lexie n social studies duhh u go out with Hannah h u knoww who I am

Me:  Haha, im really sorry, but you have the wrong number. My name is Chris, and im in college. I think you must have typed a digit wrong or something.

Her:  No u r lieing I know its u

Me:  If you dont believe me, call me. I will tell you in my own voice what i am telling you now: you have the wrong number.

Her:  What ever.

Me:  Im sorry, maam, but its the truth. My name is Chris, im not in social studies, im not dating anyone named Hannah, and i wouldn’t lie to someone about it. Check the number--shoot, ask Hannah. You don’t know me.

Her (I kid you not, this is exactly what she texts):  How do u know hannah?

Me:  I dont! But you said i was dating someone named Hannah, so she can tell you THE NUMBER IS WRONG! Call her right now and ask her.

Her:  Ok 

Thus endeth the conversation, completely unedited for crappy texting grammar. Yep, it wasted my time every much as I just wasted yours. I just thought it was funny.   ;)

A Day in the Life . . .

8:01 a.m.: Finally force myself to wake up. I really don't want to. I have a headache, I'm exhausted, and I know I have a full, migraine-inducing day ahead of me. I haul my sorry butt out of bed and start packing up my stuff . . . have to bring a laptop, which weighs too freaking much, and also bring DVD's and a flash drive for my Journalism camera project. I've already done my interview, with a guy who works at Rock Bottom Comics, and I helped my primary partner with her interview yesterday. Today, I get to help a third partner film her interview with the manager of Shakespeare's pizza.

8:30 a.m.: Time to leave for school. The problem? My roommate is still getting ready. GAWD!!

8:50 a.m.: Okay, we're actually going to make it to class on time. For once the buses ran when they were supposed to. All is well in the world.

10:45 a.m.: Class is over . . . whoot! I feel like I'm learning a lot in the class, all things considered. Problem? Our professor used faulty logic to prove a point about racism in journalism. Yes, it's present in some cases, but the method he used to get his point across . . . didn't quite hold water. My roommate was more offended by it than I was, though; that's one difference between he and I: even though we're both opinionated about stuff, we're passionate about things in different ways. He's more vocal about stupidity and wasted time than I am, whereas I'm more outspoken about being taken advantage of and of people being jerks.

11:00 a.m.: Spanish class. My teacher is pretty dang cool. She's a youngish Cuban woman, who is very cute and sweet most of the time, but is also able to be intimidating when necessary ("Are we clear? Si? No? Why are we not clear?"). Unfortunately, today she is the bearer of bad news: there is a test . . . tomorrow. Ugh.

12:00 p.m.: Got me some lunch at the Student Center. I'm so hungry, I order penne alfredo and pimp that mo'fo out! Broccoli! Mushrooms! Chicken! Ohhh, it's so good! Then I see one of my roommates pass by, and I decide to text him. He doesn't notice me, so he just texts me back, "Hi," and walks right past me. I text him again: "You just passed me again." This time, he comes back, scans the area, and decides to sit down and eat lunch with me. We have a pretty good time talking about old times, old friends, and things we don't miss at all. While we're eating, my primary partner for the journalism class walks over and drops off the camera equipment for later, when my other partner and I go to Shakespeare's. As she walks away, my roommate says (fairly loudly) something along the lines of, "Are you going to bone that?" Oy. :P

1:00 p.m.: Excellent lunch. I'm going to the Student Union to zone out in one of the comfy chairs. Ahhh, so comfy! Then the roommate who rode to school with me comes over and takes a seat. We chat for a while, and bewail the fact that we don't have enough time between classes to take a nice nap. Oh, well . . .

2:44 p.m.: Met up with my other partner at Shakespeare's pizza. Unfortunately, our interviewee was late . . . we did get free sodas, though! :D

3:20 p.m.: Wow, the manager of Shakespeare's is really nice. Funny dude. Even he didn't have a definite idea of how Shakes' got its name, though, although he speculated that "the original owner was sitting around with some friends, smoking, ummm . . . Salems and drinking . . . ummmm . . . root beer . . . and I think I heard his girlfriend actually came up with the name. For me, though, I feel as though the name is an ironic contrast to what I always experienced in English class . . . boring, almost unreadable stories by a boring guy . . . and then what I really want is a cold beer and pizza. So I go to Shakespeare's . . . to get away from Shakespeare."

3:35 p.m: We're late for class, and made even later by the fact that class is being held in the library today. We can't find our class at first, going upstairs, downstairs--everywhere. Turns out there's a set of sliding glass doors off to the side somewhere, where there's a classroom. Wotta twist!

5:19 p.m.: My partners and I can't get our film project to transfer to our respective computers. It's driving us a bit bonkers, and we have no idea what we're doing wrong. Worse, because we HAVE to get it done, I'm unable to give my roommate a ride back to the house. I have failed as a roommate.

5:23 p.m.: Met with T.A. at long last, who proceeded to explain why, exactly, I was appointed team leader, and then explained what was expected of me. Conversation proceeds as follows:

T.A.: I hate to out myself as a Trekkie, but think of the group as the Starship Enterprise. You're the warp core.

Me: We cannae dewwww it, Cap'n! We dinnae hae the pow'r!

T.A.: Haha, yeah, and your assistant is the impulse engines. She can keep the project moving on her own, but you're the only one who can get it where it needs to be.

Me: I see, so she can get us out of Spacedock, but I'm the only one who can get us into warp speed and away from the exploding Genesis planet.

T.A.: Exactly, and I think that's my cue to end this conversation.

Yeah. I know. You don't even have to say anything about that conversation.

6:00 p.m.: Work . . . which was not cancelled, after all. For once, I scheduled the right night to work--not because I had a successful sales venture but because tonight there were at least 4 new girls on duty--yay. The bad news? I didn't make ANY sales, and I royally sucked at "Jeopardy!" for the first time in a long time.

9:00 p.m.: One of my supervisors is kind enough to drive me back to my parking spot across campus. Y'know, even though we kind of got off to a rocky start, we've finally reached the point where we get along pretty dang well--cool guy.

9:05 p.m.: Great. Buncha birds decided to use my car for target practice. Unfortunately, their aim is true, indeed.

9:30 p.m.: Need to do homework . . . need to study for Spanish test . . . need a freaking NAP. Can't win 'em all, I guess; Facebook it is!

10:00 p.m.: Nothing on T.V. except "Family Guy" . . . ugh. Maybe I should start studying now. Nahhh . . .

10:20 p.m.: Hmmm . . . haven't blogged in a while.

11:11 p.m.: Mr. Eli: "Holy frijoles!"

12:45 a.m.: Enough's enough! I need to study--NOW!!

12:46 a.m.: Uhhhhh . . . why, yes, I did vote for William Howard Taft during the Great Tuna War of SNNNNKKKKKKKKZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ!!

4:07 a.m.: Aw, Fuddrucker!! I fell asleep! Okay, enough's enough; I need to study! I need to . . . SNNNNNKKKKKZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ!!!!

8:01 a.m.: DANGITTTTT!!!!

As Good As It Gets Is Not Good Enough, Is It?

Everybody has a dark side. Some of us acknowledge it, perhaps even embrace it, while others bottle it up inside for fear of others seeing it and judging them by it. This “dark side” can consist of any number of personal flaws, real or imagined, ranging from something as relatively harmless as secret haughtiness to something as dangerous as murderous rage. The human soul can contain all manner of malignance and vice, and even though one can go his or her entire life without letting it out, one slip-up can reveal what lies beneath, never to be truly camouflaged again. One remark about wanting to avoid a certain individual may lead an onlooker to remark, “I’ve never seen this side of you before,” and it’s a bit of an eye-opener to then realize that your entire image in this person’s eyes was an almost saintly one, and this one shred of human conceit has perhaps dashed that irreparably.

I’m going to be completely honest with you here, because I owe you that much: I’m not a saint, and I’m hardly the naïve, Ned Flanders-ish innocent I appear to be. I can be cold, I can be calculating, and a very real, always-present part of my mind is very dark and cruel. I do my very best to keep that part of myself under control, and for the most part I mean well, but sometimes the other side breaks on through (apologies to the late Jim Morrison for paraphrasing his lyrics). Sometimes I get so angry I can barely maintain my cool. I remember, not fondly at all, the time a “friend” decided to use me as a verbal punching bag. She had every right to be angry, but not at me; she was mad at life, and I just happened to be convenient. She knew just where to hit me, exactly where it would hurt the most, and she was just waiting for me to snap back, to turn it into a pseudo-shouting match (it was via instant message, so “shouting” is a bit of an oxymoron—you know what I mean, though), but I didn’t crack . . . not outwardly, anyway. I fell back on logic and rationality to defuse the situation, and before long the damaging winds of this angry woman could buffet me no more—in layman’s terms, she ran outta steam and left me alone. But even though I didn’t let her push me across the line, inside I was positively livid. I had never been hurt so badly in my life—not by a trusted friend—and I was suffering the physical consequences. Even as I typed my oh, so calm response to her absolutely hateful remarks—about my religion, my politics, and worst of all, my personal character—my hands were shaking so badly I could scarcely continue. Worst of all, have you ever been so angry you literally had heartburn? I never get heartburn, thankfully, as my stomach can process just about anything with minimal grief—anything except rage. The acid churned so hard at the back of my throat, I daresay any further prodding would have caused me to vaporize something with my sheer anger. I’m not saying this flowery crap about my “glorious, righteous anger” to imply I’m proud of it; if anything, I’m horrifically ashamed of it. Sure, I didn’t do anything—I didn’t act on my anger—but my inner thoughts were borderline murderous.

Maybe my “friend” was right about me, without even knowing it, in her blind rage and bitterness. What kind of Christian am I, if I hide these kinds of evil thoughts in my mind? How can I go through life, often admired for my alleged good character, when all manner of perversity flows through my mind? Yeah, I do my best to be honest and kind in my daily life, and people like me for that, but does it really matter that I do the right thing if inside I’m thinking all kinds of horrible stuff? I guess it does to some extent, because people thinking I’m a good guy has actually been a blessing to some. But I’m not satisfied with myself.  I know what’s under the “good guy” façade, and it bothers me . . . I see the Hyde lurking inside Dr. Jekyll’s flesh, and I know he’s just waiting for the right moment to rip his way out and have his way with the world. Part of that is why I’m so uptight. I have massive control issues, because I am scared to death of what would happen if I were unable to manage my actions. I had my first drink in 22 years on New Year’s Day, and the feeling of my mind slowing down scared the crap out of me. I stopped when I was just barely tipsy, and I will never drink again—I can’t relax, can’t forget myself, can’t take a chance on saying or doing anything that will show people the real me. I have to live the lie because the truth scares even me. I’m not the good guy, nor will I ever be. I don’t drink, smoke, hook up, party hearty, or do anything at all that might constitute cutting loose or getting into trouble, but even though I don’t physically do anything wrong, my body’s inaction will never make me “good”—not while my mind runs rampant and untamed. One careless thought given voice can destroy a reputation built upon years of false smiles and compulsively-performed good deeds.

It’s hard to get close to other people if we have this kind of mindset. Isn’t it always the way of humanity, to believe we can read so deeply into the character of others and assume they know nothing of our own? Seriously, I know we all have skeletons in our closets (maybe not literally . . . I hope), but we’re all screwed up in some way or another, and we all say and/or do and/or think stuff we’re not proud of at some point. We can’t keep putting ourselves down or let our personal shortcomings keep us from living our lives, no matter how easy it may be. Here’s the hard part: we have to acknowledge and accept that we’re going to goof up at some point, we have to put all that crap behind us, and we have to move on, with both the intention of not repeating our mistakes again and the willingness to accept that we may fall off the wagon again. Not to get preachy, but that’s kind of a nice thing about faith—the knowledge that when we fall, there’s someone to help us get back up again. Now, just because God will catch us when we fall doesn’t mean we should take up skydiving, figuratively speaking, but it does mean that we can walk with a little more spring in our step, knowing our crappy, screwed-up lives aren’t worthless, and even though we may never be perfect, if we keep striving for that goal we might still be able to help someone along the way. I'm not the "good guy" I wish I could be, but I'm trying my best to be better, and maybe trying one's best, earnestly and diligently, does count for something.

I'm sorry, by the way. My intention was never to be preachy or mopey or self-righteous or gripey, but sometimes . . . sometimes I just need to let some of this stuff out. I feel introspective sometimes, and when that happens, goodness knows what kind of random crap I'll dredge up. I promise, though, that once I get one or two of these dark ones out of my system, I'll come up with something really, really funny to tell you all. Promise!