Rainy Days and Thursdays

Last night, while attending Mike Rende’s 41^st birthday, I got into a subtle argument with my golf and hockey pal Mark over the subject of superhero-themed tattoos derived from an article on the subject in this month’s issue of Wizard.

Although he is uncomfortable around needles, Mark suggested he might get a small tat of Thor’s hammer on his arm if I went along.

“Fine,” I said. “I already have a design picked out: an etching of a bat by Dave McKean from hard-cover editions of Arkham Asylum (1989).”

“But that’s not a superhero design,” Mark said.

“The hell it ain’t,” says I. “It’s Batman.”

“Is not!” Mark said.

At this point, I informed Mark of a simple truth – if I’m the person who’ll wear the tattoo in question for life (barring a shameful march to a dermatologist one day to get it removed), I’ll decide what design works or not.

Nevertheless, I hope Mark follows through with his offer to get tagged. I’ll even talk him through the experience if he gets light-headed.

Lovecraft On Film (Again)

Targeted for 2010 release, word of Guillermo De Toro’s big screen adaptation of “At The Mountains of Madness” by HP Lovecraft both intrigues and concerns me – both because I wonder how Guillermo can unravel Lovecraft’s meandering (to put it mildly) source text into something filmable.

Yes, I know such adaptations have been done before (“Re-Animator,” “In The Mouth of Madness”), but “Mountains” would address one of Lovecraft’s larger texts, and as any fan of his stuff knows, reading it is like wading through molasses. Plus, Lovecraft’s fiction is so overwhelming (by design) it makes one question how it could be put to film without driving audiences away babbling out of sheer confusion.

Yet I suppose if anyone can successfully pull such a feat off its Del Toro, whom I wish to God would make a “Hellboy” movie pitting the BPRD versus a Cthulhu cult.

Now that I’d love to see.

Seven Decades On

“I wasn’t born on Elvis’ birthday. He was born on mine.”

---My late father, George, on me annually commenting that his birthday coincides with The King’s every January 8^th.

Happy 70th, Dad.

The Shadow Man

Although I believe no TV anthology series can ever match the original “Twilight Zone” for sheer storytelling quality, I often give CBS’s revival of “Zone” (1985-1989) credit for making a good stab at it. Featuring a terrific new opening sequence, with music by the Grateful Dead, the series sported some genuinely good stories including “To See The Invisible Man,” “Examination Day,” and “Nightcrawlers.”

Yet among these, the episode that sticks most in my mind is “The Shadow Man,” directed by Joe Dante (“Gremlins”) and written by Rockne O’Bannon, about a nerdy suburban boy who discovers a spectre living under his bed who rises each night and whispers “I am the Shadow Man, and I will never harm the person under whose bed I live” before leaving out the boy’s window.

Dismissing the incident as a bad dream, the boy goes to school the next day to hear of someone having been attacked the previous night by a suspect matching the Shadow Man’s appearance. Later, the boy even decides to use the spirit to his advantage -- despite his town growing increasingly alarmed by the sudden spike in nighttime assaults which local police have been unable to stop.

Anyhow, although “The Shadow Man” is a bit dated—and the ending somewhat weak, IMO--the episode is still a fun premise worth revisiting.

Click here for Part I of the episode, and here for Part II.

Enjoy.

PS: Although I felt the overall series was just okay, an episode of NBC’s “Amazing Stories” (which aired around the same time as the new “Twilight Zone”) I also enjoyed is “Mirror Mirror” co-written by Steven Spielberg, and directed by Martin Scorsese -- about a bitter filmmaker (played by Sam Waterson) stalked by a black figure visible only in reflected surfaces.

Unfortunately, I cannot find a copy of the episode on You Tube right now, but will keep an eye out for it.

Boozing By Proxy

Brad Weber and I are drinking pals of a most unusual sort – that is to say, he drinks and I do not.

But more to the point, when we’re out at a bar—say, The Duke of Perth in Chicago—I will often suggest a new ale or distilled potable for Brad to try, and he’ll tell me his opinion. I then take the empty bottle home as a souvenir – especially if the label art is interesting.

Tonight for Brad’s 40^th birthday, I’ll be bringing him a bottle of Red-Tail Ale – an American product out of New York State.

I hope he likes it.

My own palette for beer is pretty unsophisticated – however, not so much that even I can’t tell that Point Lager is one step up from pasteurized deer urine.

"I say try the seventh bottle from the right."
"Why? What's so special about that one?"
"I like that picture of the Scottie dog on the label - just do it, rummy! I'm driving."
"One please..."

Random Nonsense

Although I’m still firmly locked in hockey season, I always enjoy checking out websites for minor-league baseball leagues to check out off-season changes (e.g. new affiliations, moves, uniforms, etc).

So tonight I read that a Midwest League team in Davenport, Iowa, has wisely decided to switch its team name to the Quad City River Bandits after four years back some genius thought naming the team The Swing of The Quad Cities (as in jazz swing) would be a capital idea.

Joe Quesada, I’m looking in your direction….

The thing is that River Bandits were previously called the River Bandits for several seasons; it’s just too bad it took four years (and a sale) for team management to figure out that was the very name they should have stuck with all along.

Oh well, live and learn…

Anyhoo, in 1994 I caught a Bandits game at their stadium beside the Mississippi. It’s a very nice facility you might recall being washed out in 1993 during summer floods that hit several rivertowns including Davenport that year. Yet what sticks out in my memory most during the Bandits game I saw was that evening, the park was invaded by a Biblical swarm of mayflies. There were literally millions of the bugs flitting around any open source of light – especially the stadium’s light towers - while falling into people’s beers and sodas.

And though most fans fled the scene, including my brother and two friends who sought shelter on the park’s concourse, I wasn’t bothered by the mayflies. I actually thought the swarm was pretty cool. I’ve also seen nothing remotely like it since – including the mass cicada hatchings that strike the Chicago-area every 16 years.

So here’s to you, little bugs.

Thank God your local ballclub finally has a respectable name again.

Merry New Year

Last night, I marked the arrival of a new year by getting my fourth tattoo: a woodcut of an owl perched on an open book used as a logo for the Chicago Public Library.

I first saw the source art several years ago when first used for the grand opening of the Harold Washington Library in downtown Chicago, and loved it from the word go. But it was only recently that I got the idea of transferring the image to my right bicep, a job which took an hour to finish at Insight Tattoo on a snowy Milwaukee Avenue – the same studio where I got a memorial tattoo last fall marking my father’s passing.

I was surprised at how long the job took, but the detailing is excellent. I’m also surprised at how much discomfort I’m still in today (for those unaware, the after effects of tattooing feels like a lingering sunburn), but then again, the owl is larger and required more ink than anything I’ve gotten before.

But I’m aiming for a fifth tattoo later this year, followed by a sixth and perhaps a seventh and final one (all on my right arm).

I have to admit that getting marked is like munching on potato chips: you can’t have just one, and using new designs to create a larger theme is quite fun.

But anyhow, tomorrow the holidays are finally over, and its back to work for everyone.

Time to get back to reality and weekly deadlines.