Vehicular Timeslaughter

My car's engine light came on with no seemingly related performance problems, so I took it to the shop to be sure. But the dealership started making appointments to work on cars. They could onyl see me at 2, so I took my car back home, got Your Sis's car and drove that to work. A few hours later, I went back home, switched cars, and took mine to the shop. After about 90 minutes, they told me that the oil-change shop apparently put in the air filter wrong, and it triggered a wire. If the light comes on again within a week, they'll replace the sensor. Meaning nothing else is wrong with the car. Good to know. While I waited, I read Romeo & Juliet and found the parts I could realistically play.

I assume every college-age boy and gal are gonna want the leads, and they can have them. The couple are the least interesting parts. The two packs of Montague and Capulet boys are meatier, as are the friar and the prince. But the friar and Lord Capulet will no doubt go to the repertory older guys, leaving me with the running buddies are blood enemies of Romeo. Those are fine roles, and I wouldn't complain about them. Your Sis knows the play front and back, and she's auditioning too. She's never auditioned before, and she's nervous. I'll talk her through it before we go in tonight. But no matter what we do, auditions are rattling. I think we're conditioned to be disturbed by them.

After the car work, I went back home and raked for about an hour and essentially took the rest of the night off.

Picture of the Day
Here's a weird thing. If you go to the extended 300 trailer on YouTube and stop it at 1:52, you see this:



Now this obviously has nothing to do with Spartans, but it does suggest the next film by the 300 director: Watchmen. That comic is the Moby Dick, the Les Miserables, the Hamlet of comic books, and it has long toiled in development even as comic fans debate whether any adaptation could do it justice. The guy here is Rorschach, the quasi-narrator of the comic. In the comic, he looks like this:


Until we hear something specific about a greenlit movie, there's no reason to go crazy over a Watchmen film, so I'll shelve my comments for now. But that clip is nestled in the trailer as a treasure for the comic fans, and it's a acknowledgment that a good number of comic fans would kill to see the film made. This could be the spark that lights a geek bomb.

In the News
I'm not saying it's likely, but those rumors about Cheney walking away just won't die. An upcoming Time cover story will try to expose Cheney as the real power in the White House, which may shock as many as eight people. This leads to armchair quarterbacking as to who will replace him. Condi would be an obvious pick, but that would necessitate the administration's third secretary of state, and that position needs consistency. A smart ploy would be to tap a presidential candidate like McCain, but Bush and McCain have an unpleasant history, and this could skewer McCain's platform as an independent thinker if he's seen walking two paces behind the president. But a Cheney-less white House means someone else has to run the shop. Rove lost his power when the Plame story broke, and I can't see two grown adults taking orders via the Cheney-phone from the Cheney-cave. Wouldn't it be hysterical if Bush took control for once and turned out to know what he was doing? Maybe that's why he can't properly communicate his ideas or hide his awkward chuckle: he's constantly wondering if he's correctly following a script he doesn't like.

Captain America Madness

I finished all the inks last night in a mad rush between dinner and "Lost"(which again was great). I've started simple coloring swaths and lettering placement, and I'm on track to finish soon.

In the News
The media went nuts for the Captain America story, with the AP, Wall Street Journal, NPR, and others covering it. My store in Spartanburg said the local CBS affiliate sent a news crew out before they opened the doors. Many stores are out of the issue as speculator/investors are gobbling them up to stash or sell on eBay, where some copies are going for $45 (newsstand price= $3). I suppose the media attention helps the giant crossover's perception as a success, but this one event eclipses now this seemingly unrelated, months-long story about power registration. The suggestion that this is a political commentary is what fuels the reporting, but there is no such parallel. Cap was killed by a thug under the employ of his archenemy. Marvel Comics is being somewhat mild in their statements, saying Cap is dead, and dead is dead, and this isn't a publicity ploy. But they do like to mention the Cap movie under development. I haven't read his comic for years and can't count myself among those affected by this. But we're supposed to get another X-men death by year's end, and that one may hurt a bit.

Picture of the Day
Here's the Big Moment:

Yeah, I Think I'm Nuts

Just a month after finishing the play, I'm auditioning for another one: a summer stock Shakespeare. Montford Park Players advertised auditions this weekend for Romeo & Juliet and Cyrano DeBergerac. Your Sis loves and teaches both, and I think she talked me into trying out for the former. This comes less than a week after she saw the show in Greenville. I have yet to do a Shakespeare, and I'm eager to try, but this is outdoor summer work. The air will be iffy, the audiences will be distant, and I haven't read the play in years. Also, when am I gonna get that painting started? I'm gonna skim between now the Friday night to pick up William's flow. I don't even know how many parts I'm eligible for. She wants to try for Cyrano, by the way, if her work schedule permits.

I got home early from work and hunkered down to ink, and it's virtually all done. I toiled from 4:15 to about midnight, on and off, to get past this stage, and I have one more panel to tackle.

Picture of the Day
One of the pages in question. It's flat art, and I'll color it later to add volume and light. You can see how I'll use fine art in some panels to refer to legends. The first two panels need inking and a title block. I feel good about the progress I made and feel sure I can knock this comic out before the deadline.



In the News
They found Scooter guilty of most counts in the CIA leak trial. The consensus is that he was the patsy for the administration, and left unanswered is the question as to who ordered the leak. It wasn't Libby, and fingers point to Cheney or Rove, but further charges are unlikely to descend. Speaking of Cheney, he's been diagnosed with deep vein thrombosis after his lengthy flight about the globe. He's receiving blood-thinners but a clot could kill him, and Utterly Hysterical Rumors abound that he might step down for health reasons.

+ + +

Remember the giant crossover event Marvel Comics was doing, this big hero fight over registration legislation? The miniseries ended two weeks ago, but the Big Event was published just today: Captain America was killed by a sniper. Now when I say "killed," you have to understand that death in comics is a joke. Anyone can come back at any time. Jean Grey came back twice, and Cap's WWII sidekick -- the standard of "dead is dead" arguments -- returned recently after 40something years. The national media picked up the story, and now it's everywhere to the anger of comic fans who waited taken great pains to not have the Big Event spoiled for them. Me? Eh. I haven't read that book in years, and I don't think they're gonna kill off that character. He'll be back in the middle of another giant crossover.

Un Petit Dîner

To support the annual school trip to France, we bought dinner at one of Mayberry's swankiest restaurants. We had coq au vin and pate, which tastes a bit like flaky sausage. We sat with school folks and enjoyed good conversation. I tipped with leftover poker money. The wine was strong stuff, and though I wanted to get myself pickled, I had to work on the comic afterward. I had some decaf coffee to keep me going (caffeinated java would have made me sleep) and plugged away at the art until midnight. I think -- think -- all the penciling is done. Tonight I'll start inking. It was surprisingly not that difficult to draw a pig head in the viking style. These are things you don't expect to draw when you start a comic about apples.

Picture of the Day
The teacher who hosts the trip is a fluent French speaker. Her husband officiated our wedding, and we like the couple a lot. He asked last night if we wanted to go with the group. I can't do it this summer, but I'd love to go another year. It's been almost 17 years since I was there.


In the News
Ann Coulter makes her living saying stupid things and then claims she's pointedly using satire. What she's really doing is desperately trying to get attention with insult shtick. During a conservative convention this weekend, she called democrat candidate John Edwards a faggot. Out loud. On stage. This has not gone over so well, and it's led to hand-wringing over political discourse. But Ann wasn't engaging in discourse. She was doing a routine, and she was sharing the stage with GOP candidates, including Mitt Romney. Those candidates tripped over themselves to create distance from her remarks. This is what Ann does. When she's not calling for a scorched-earth crusade against Muslims or race-baiting, she gets no press. She's similar to radio host Michael Savage whose rantings are so childish and juvenile that I think he's actually doing performance art.

But what's lost in this debate of sensitivity and humor is that no one uses "faggot" once they leave high school. We outgrow it, like "cooties" and "doddiehead." Or at least most of us do. I know it's still chucked around here in the South by people who can't think of a stronger insult. Which means it's used by the dim and surly. I expect Ann to say something stupid and offensive, but this just sounds pathetic. Really? That's the best you can come up with? He's a lawyer with a hair helmet. How does that target escape your notice? She's lost some national advertisers from her website because of this. Gay columnist Dan Savage spoke on the word a few weeks back, declaring it devoid of any power and suggested it be used by gay people to insult and terrify homophobes with campy, shrill taunting.

Jackpot

We met up with Travis and Kathy on Friday for dinner, and he asked me to join him and some other guys for a man-date to see 300. We're going to see my parents next weekend for mom's birthday, but I'll be able to squeeze in. While the guys see the film, the wives will have a ladies night. Then, of course, Your Sis and I will go watch 300.

I woke up early Saturday, sketched the comic a bit, and went to work on the yard. I always prefer to rake the leaves at winter's end so all of them can be gathered at one time. We have plenty of space behind the tree line to stash them. I also cleared out the creek obstructions. It was one of those things that develop organically. I dump some leaves, see the high waterline, yank out some creek junk, notice the other patches of junk backing up the water, tackle those, and go back to raking. The iPod is nice for this kind of work. I can even listen to NPR; the local Saturday lineup is stellar: Car Talk, Wait Wait Don't Tell Me, This American Life, Fresh Air recap, The Ticket, Money Matters, On the Media, All Things Considered, and Prairie Home Companion. Your Sis came out about an hour later to plant bulbs we got from my parents. We grabbed lunch at the pub later, and then Your Sis, brace yourself, napped. I worked on the comic. I'm almost through with penciling, and I finished up the hardest panel with the strong perspective.

But at 4, we split up. I had the poker party, and she was off to Greenville. This was my first tournament game, and we only played Texas Hold 'Em. This is the game you see most often on TV because it's extended and relies on individual betting on communally held cards. I knew no one else there aside from Big Mama, but it was a friendly gang. Some saw the play but didn't recognize me even after looking at the cast photos. I've got more hair, a beard, an earring, and no accent. Her husband Mike ran us through the house rules. I knew the game fine, but the betting rules were new. We had randomly assigned seats at two tables (it was me, Mike, and five women at one), and the betting increments increased every 15 minutes. We all paid $10 to play $2,500 worth of chips. You began with a stack of $5 chips as the smallest increment, but within an hour the minimum bet was $40. And when you got to the last two cards, all antes doubled. This was done to move the game along as we had 13 people playing.

I have two rules of playing poker:
1) if you have a face card, bet at least for one round to see the next three dealt cards; and
2) play further if you have an 8 or a queen. These are my lucky cards. And sure enough, the first hand I won was a split pot with a Q8 full house.

I wore my new skull-and-crossbones socks for luck (with no idea if they were lucky). I did fairly well to start, but some of the gals were brand new to the game. We bent the rules a bit initially to make it fun and more than fair. They picked it up quick, and Mike helped me with some bet strategies. He was the first one out from our table, by the way. Then we lost two more players, and the players spread out again among the two tables. And we kept playing. And playing.

Long story short, we played for six straight hours. We started right before 7 p.m. and ended about 12:45 a.m. I stayed at my table and snacked throughout. I drank two of my beloved Smirnoff Ices early and then switched to soda to stay sober during the big bets. When the game ended, the minimum bet was $1,00 dollars. And I was one of the last three, which meant I would get a piece of the tournament pot. There was $130 to be given to the last three players. Last place got $26. First place got $64. I played pretty conservative but did pursue some hands foolishly, hoping for luck on the last card. Sometimes I got it. Sometimes I thought I got it until I learned what the other players were holding.

My best hand was a full house, the fourth best you can get. I also won a hand with the high card, the lowest victory you can claim. But I got to the last three, and then we played against each other for about half an hour, just picking away at each other's stacks. I did bet everything on one hand(which we could only do later in the tournament), but the other player folded. And then we lost a player, and it was just two of us, me and Big Mama. And after six fucking hours, we decided to split the pot. We played a game only for bragging rights (I lost to a high card), but walked away from the table with $52 and a nice showing for my first time with them. I drove home blasting my radio to stay awake and got home at 1:40. I did get to hear the late-night conspiracy radio show, and that's always fun. Did you know gray aliens talk to humans telepathically? Did you know the FAA is hiding evidence of UFOs? Did you know that when I was 10, I would have sworn these were so?

I was dead on Sunday. I barely slept because I chugged soda to stay awake for the game, and couldn't rest at home with that lingering buzz. I drew a bit, bought lunch with the poker winnings, got groceries with Your Sis and that included the weekly crackuccino to help me remain standing (also bought with poker winnings). She worked on school stuff, and we split the laundry while I did research for the comic. I thought I only had a few panels left. But I can't find a decent painting of Norse apple imagery. It looks like I'll need to draw that particular panel, and I'm inclined to work in the intricate Norse patterns. Maybe I can escape that. I also may need to draw the Arthurian panel after all. I'll definitely finish the pencil work this weekend and then start inking. I may scan the pencil work, get the lettering out of the way on the PC, and then scan the inked pages and place them under the word balloons. I want this to look sharp, I want to improve on what I've done before. and I have exactly four weeks to do it. That should be plenty of time. I would have worked more on the comic yesterday, but I didn't trust my addled brain.

Picture of the Day
This has been called a new Spidey 3 poster, but it's missing all the text. It's still cool. Can the filmmakers make a third film that stands well along the first two. Can it possibly be better than the second film?

The black costume -- and the villain that adopts it later -- is almost a franchise unto itself, and the comic fans are soiling themselves with glee. I'm from the generation before the black costume, so I maintained an arm's length from it. There was no reason to move away from the classic outfit, reasoned my young mind, and that conclusion stands. Peter didn't even initially change costumes for psychological reasons; his old one was shredded and an alien costume machine gave him a new, different one. And then he found out it was sentient and nasty, and it moved to someone who had a reason to hate Peter and a new villain was born. The trailers suggest that's what's going to happen onscreen. And I must need more sleep because I am making with the blah-blah something fierce.