Tagged: Chicago

Mike Gold: Joe Kubert, Personally

gold-art-120815-8105636One of the hardest questions for me to answer begins with the phrase “What is your favorite…?”

My Top 10 movie list has over 100 movies on it. My Top 10 television shows list must first be categorized: is it fair to compare Rocky and Bullwinkle to The Prisoner? Well, maybe that’s a bad example, but I think you get my point. If you were to ask me to name my favorite musician, I’d go into a fugue state and you’d get scared and leave.

There is one exception. If you were to ask me who my favorite comics creator is – and you were to ask me this question at any time in the past half-century – I would immediately and firmly respond “Joe Kubert.”

As we reported, Joe died Sunday evening. It was one of those moments when time… simply… stopped. For the past decade I’ve been in amazement that Joe was still giving us a graphic novel and a mini-series or special or something every year. Jeez, if I make it to 85 (and I’m nowhere in as good a shape as Joe was) I’m planning on lying there bitching until somebody changes my Depends. Joe was still at it, producing great stuff.

I was fortunate to know both Joe and his wife Muriel (predeceased by four years); Muriel knew the depths of my affection for her husband’s work, Joe knew it as well and was quite gracious but, as to be expected from an artist of his caliber, I could tell he wasn’t connecting with my praise for something he had finished months ago. He already was on to the next thing. Or maybe the one after that.

When I first started working at DC Comics back in 1976, my office was two doors down from Julius Schwartz. Denny O’Neil had the office next to me. Joe Orlando – Joe Orlando! – was a few doors down from that. And, three days a week, there was Joe Kubert. The best of the best.

I was a 26 year-old fanboy and if I wasn’t breathing I would have thought I had gone to heaven.

Kubert had been my favorite comics creator since the day my mother bought me Brave and the Bold #34, cover-dated February-March 1961. It featured the debut of the silver age Hawkman. We were getting on Chicago’s L, headed towards the Loop for my first visit to the eye doctor. I was anxious to read the comic; it looked really cool. Exciting. Different. And new superheroes were few and far between in those days of buggy whips and gas lamps.

Of course, my eye doctor did what eye doctors do: she put those serious drops in my eyes and everything got all blurry and then she exiled me to the outer office while my pupils dilated to the size of manhole covers. I was told to sit there quietly for an hour. I was ten years old; the concept of “sitting quietly” was well beyond my understanding. Certainly, not with that awesome-looking comic book on my lap.

I tried to read it. My mother started to scream about how I’d permanently ruin my eyes. She was supportive of my reading comics, she just had odd theories about how I’d go blind. Being me, I continued to try to read the Hawkman debut but now more defiantly, with purpose and determination – despite the fact that each panel was more blurry than the previous. I went through that book several times, trying my damnedest to understand it. To see it.

The book was astonishingly great – a tribute to writer Gardner Fox and editor Julie Schwartz as well as to Joe. After I finally read the comic in focus, it was clear to me that it was worth all the effort. That’s probably what made me a Joe Kubert fan.

By 1976 I had learned first-hand that a lot of the public figures I admired weren’t really worthy of such tribute on a personal level; if you were going to meet a lot of celebrities, you had to learn how to divorce yourself from the person and remain married to that person’s work. This is a lot less the case in the comics field, I’m happy to report.

And it most certainly was not the case with Joe Kubert. We could be diametrically opposed on certain political and social issues, and we were, but it didn’t matter one bit. Part of that came from Joe’s upbringing in the Talmudic arts where discussion and debate is encouraged and honored. But most of that came from Joe’s simply being a great, great guy.

That’s what I have to say about Joe Kubert. He was a great, great guy.

Here’s what I have to say to Joe Kubert.

Thank you.

THURSDAY: Dennis O’Neil

 

Mike Gold: Four-Color Friendships

gold-column-art-1208012-5014667It was an interesting party. Held in a Mason lodge, I got to hang out with The Point’s Mike Raub, former ComicMix columnist and book writer and moviemaker Ric Meyers, and Adriane Nash, the one woman condemned to be both a ComicMixer and an employee of arrogantMGMS. And a whole bunch of old friends, about 72 of which used to be in the comic book retail business.

It’s not that I would be friendless if not for the comics racket. Since I spend a healthy amount of time in politics, social services, broadcasting and more dubious endeavors, I know a few folks who couldn’t tell the several dozen current Spider-Men apart – and politely couldn’t care less. They humor me nonetheless.

But it is safe to say most of my enduring friendships are comics-related. I’ve known Mr. Raub for, damn, three-dozen years. Glenn Hauman and I met when he was a “small” child hiding in DC’s darkroom, back when the Earth was still cooling. John Ostrander and I have been buddies since before Watergate; we met through Chicago theater connections and were both herded into a corner at a party in those ancient days because, as comics fans, we “had something to talk about.” Ah, those days when geeks were treated like… geeks.

The list goes on and on. I’ve had the privilege and honor to work with my friends and that has worked out wonderfully more than 99% of the time. There are maybe only two or three people I regret working with – I’ve mended fences with others; creative egos are a mixed blessing and I’ve got one that’s louder than a Sousa march. There’s only one person in comics I actually wish to murder; I’ve spent less time and energy in broadcasting and that list is both longer and older.

So this comics donut shop, to paraphrase Chico Escuela, has been berra berra good… to me.

I’m all backward-looking because this Saturday is my birthday – I turn real, real old; I mean, Mel Brooks old – and seeing all these old friends in one room was a heady event.

Despite its massive expansion (says the man who refers to the San Diego convention as the “black hole of media shows”) and the generational differences and the public’s near-acceptance of geekdom, there remains a closeness in the comics community that, to my experience, is unparalleled elsewhere. Even people who truly hate each other are on a first name basis.

I highly recommend it. This is one hell of a donut shop.

THURSDAY: Dennis O’Neil

 

FIGHT CARD DEBUTS ‘A MOUTH FULL OF BLOOD’!

The latest release from New Pulp powerhouse publisher Fight Card is the first sequel in the series!



A year after the pulse-pounding action of Split Decision, Jimmy Wyler is back in Chicago trying to put his life back together. Working a job washing dishes in a late night diner, Jimmy vows to never get into a boxing ring again.

But then, someone needs him. Leo, a teenaged boy who fights hard against the city every day, could use a man like Jimmy. To help save him from his alcoholic father, and to save his only sister from a pimp bent on turning her out.
Jimmy must fight again. Fight for the ones who can?t fight for themselves. It will take him from fistfights in back alleys to no rules bouts with crowds screaming for blood and all the way back to the orphanage where he grew up. Along the way, blood will be spilled and knuckles will be bruised.
More white-knuckle action and epic fights from the Fightcard series.
Praise for Split Decision: It was unpredictable; it put its main protagonist through the ringer; and didn’t take the soft option for the resolution. It’s that kind of story. I finished it in one sitting. It’s that entertaining. Highly recommended.- Permission To Kill
Split Decision is a prime example of the sort of variety and adventurous storytelling we can expect from the Fight Card series, and I thoroughly enjoyed it. Highly recommended.- James Reasoner, author of Dust Devils and The Blood Mesa
Split Decision hooked me. Allow enough time to read the whole thing at one sitting, you’re not going to want to put it down.- Mike Faricy, author of Russian Roulette and Finders Keepers
Available now in Paperback on Amazon and as an Ebook for Your Kindle!

Transformers: Dark of the Moon

transformers-dark-of-the-moon-3d-combo-pack-box-art-300x369-1282833There is absolutely nowhere near enough story to sustain the 2:30 running time of Transformers: Dark of the Moon. This third installment in the live-action adaptation of the classic toys and anime is loud, noisy, and very busy but ultimately empty. I kept wanting to turn the channel as I watched the Blu-ray release of the film, available Tuesday in a variety of packages including the four-disc combo (Blu-ray 3-D, Blu-ray, DVD and Ultraviolet digital copy).

Michael Bay by now has mastered how to fill the screen with kinetic action, spectacular explosions and CGI galore. What he continues to misunderstand is that all of this action needs to be grounded with characters we can care about and root for. While Roberto Orci and Alex Kurtzman gave it a valiant attempt in the first film, they were kind of coasting with the second feature and their writing partner Ehren Kruger was allowed to go solo this time out. Maybe the film feels so pointless because Bay himself didn’t want to make the film for another year, but Paramount forced his hand, announcing the June 2011 release, in 3-D no less.

Kruger had to find a story that would find the Autobots and Decepticons at one another’s throats with the fate of the world once more at stake, while putting good old Sam Witwicky (Shia LaBeouf) in the middle. It’s a tall order, no doubt, but the thin story feels like so much linkage between action pieces.

We open three years later as the Autobots have been integrated into the United States’ intelligence community, working with the NEST (Networked Elements: Supporters and Transformers) military force, policing the international political scene. Meantime, Sam has finally graduated college and in a nod towards current economic times, is having a tough time finding a job. Now, for most people that should be a real issue, for a Presidential medal winning hero, he should be the exception, snapped up by NEST or some related field. But that would make him less the everyman; a conceit the franchise seems bent on maintaining. Of course, most Everymen don’t go from one hot girl friend to another and the film makes some comments about this, casually dismissing Megan Fox’s character, who was booted form the franchise because the actress couldn’t avoid pissing off Bay and Steven Spielberg. She is replaced here with English model Rosie Huntington-Whiteley, already in a deep relationship with Sam (who calls her “The One”). Unlike Fox’; character, who actually had some emotional stake in the first film; she is merely an attractive appendage throughout this film.

The Decepticons have not sat idle but have been manipulating events to bring about the enslavement of humanity in the name of saving Cybertron, their homeworld. And it all dates back to a Transformer crashing into the Moon in 1961 which we’re told is the real reason President Kennedy insisted we land a man on the satellite within a decade. They needed to beat the Russians to see what collided so near home.

Complicating Sam’s life is the no-nonsense director of National Intelligence Charlotte Mearing and Dylan Gould, his girlfriend’s boss and traitor to mankind. Both new roles are played by actors (Frances McDormand and Patrick Dempsey respectively) who either needed the paycheck or were slumming. Of course, once evil has risen once more, Sam finds himself working alongside the more familiar USAF Chief Robert Epps (Tyrese Gibson) and Seymour Summons (John Turturro), the former Sector 7 thorn in his side from the earlier films.

And with that, we’re off across the world, climaxing in the utter destruction of Chicago as the forces of mechanical good and evil make a lot of noise.

The film is bloated, in need of editing and depth.  No doubt it looked spectacular on both IMAX and in 3-D. This has to be why the film did so well on the international stage, bringing in over $1.2 billion.

Thankfully, it looks and sounds great on both the television and laptop. The CGI is better than ever and it’s fun hearing familiar actors voicing the various Transformers (Peter Cullen and Hugo Weaving are joined by Leonard Nimoy, James Remar, George Coe and others).

There’s a disc of Blu-ray extras that are fun to sift through and certainly show the amount of effort went into the film’s production. We have the five-part Above and Beyond: Exploring Dark of the Moon, which is all the usual making of stuff you would expect. Deconstructing Chicago: Multi-Angle Sequences if a four-part exploration of the overblown climax and is really for filmmakers and CGI buffs. The Art of Cybertron gives you a plethora of views of the various mechanical lifeforms and their environments. The Dark of the Moon Archive includes some fun footage of the Russian premiere and other short featurettes. The Matrix of Marketing offers you trailers and a marketing gallery. The best of the bunch I the min-doc Uncharted Territory: NASA’s Future Then and Now, using the film’s premise to look at the real science.

Really, you have to deeply love this nonsense to put up with such an overblown film but at least it gets very nice treatment from Paramount Home Entertainment. It should be noted this is also included in the seven-disc limited collector’s edition that contains all three films and might be the version diehard fans lust after.

FORTIER TAKES ON FAIRIES AND GOBLINS!

  • News
  • December 11, 2011

ALL PULP REVIEWS BY RON FORTIER

GLAMOUR JOB
By Doug Farrell
BookSurge Publishing
484 pages
ISBN – 10: 141967496X
ISBN – 13: 9781419674969
Release date – Sept 21, 2007
(fantasy – adventure – pulp)
No Contact Data

About the Author –
Doug Farrell has been a professional actor most of his adult life and spent several years performing comedy a Los Angeles improve troupe. He’s married to his best friend Ellen and raising three remarkable children with her. He taught college classes, was a vegetarian chef and installed home theaters. Recently at night he’s been a guide for ghost tours, telling Savannahs’ paranormal stories to people from around the world. This is his first novel.

Every now and then, I trip over a book that’s really hard to describe genre-wise and this is such a case. It’s a madcap adventure that falls somewhere between fantasy, slapstick comedy and social satire. That all these elements mix effectively and in the end produce a heady concoction of genuine adult delight is a testament to Farrell’s own imagination in brewing what he aptly describes as “A Fairy-tale for Grown-ups.”

The set up deals with a fairy war that occurred in another dimension wherein the goblin race lost and was forced to flee to our world, arriving in 1947, two years after the end of World War II. Convincing certain human scientist to help them, the goblins invented special disguises that allowed them to go undetected in our world and for decades walked among humans, some even interbreeding with them. Ultimately the same scientists who developed these sophisticated camouflages saw the potential for monetary wealth by using the same formulas to create beauty aids for human women. They create Glamorine, a Chicago based million dollar cosmetic empire built on the results of these techniques and certain globin magics.

The book’s theme plays with duel definitions of the word glamour. The first being a quality of fascinating, alluring, or attracting, especially by a combination of charm and good looks. It also means magic or enchantment; spell; witchery.

The protagonist is super model and the face of Glamorine, Laurie Morgan, whose grandfather was one of the scientist who created the company. As the story opens Laurie has become disillusioned by her near perfect life and is in the process of divorcing her loving husband, Nick. Laurie is suffering from ennui unable to explain her own dissatisfaction and believes she’s become trapped in a dull, boring routine of existence. No sooner is the divorce granted then she is contacted by a blue gnome name Hawley disguised as a little girl. He warns Laurie that her life is in danger. As if confronting an actual blue dwarf weren’t enough, Laurie begins to running into women throughout Chicago who looked exactly like her.

As paranoia begins to set in, Hawley explains that there is a goblin revolution in the works. After decades of living in secrecy amongst mankind, a group of goblin leaders have concocted a scheme to take control of Glamorine and replace its board of directors, including Laurie and her grandfather, with phony disguised goblins. Once they’ve achieved this end, they plan on poisoning the cosmetics produced to Glamorine to eliminate all of mankind and take over the Earth.

Needless to say having an army of vicious goblins out to do her in is more than enough motivation to snap Laurie out of her malaise and back into living at full tilt if only to stay alive. Before the book’s conclusion arrives, she will have been held prisoner in an underwater complex below Lake Michigan, met and been devoured by a fire breathing dragon and allied herself with tiny pig-fairies only she can see. “Glamour Job” is a rollicking tale that never lets up and is filled with satirical jabs at how we treasure a make-believe beauty that is simply an illusion devised by Fifth Avenue to milk millions from starry eyed little girls all wanting to grow up and become runway princesses. But do be warned, this is only the first chapter in a trilogy and the ending does come somewhat abruptly.

We also note by the print date that “Glamour Job” is four years old. All the more reason to seek it out as it might have flown under your radar. Urban fantasy isn’t one of this reviewer’s most favorite genres, but “Glamour Job” has enough action muscle to sustain it for even the most jaded pulp reader. If you are looking for something truly different and fun, you would be hard press to do much better than this book.

Peter David, Spider-Man, and the Macy’s Thanksgiving Parade

  • News
  • November 24, 2011

291144_171825376246510_100002571466098_295864_1483439714_o-800x597-1333813

Yes, that’s Peter David once again providing direction to Spider-Man. But this time, he’s bringing him down Broadway as part of the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade in New York City (because really, where else would Spidey be, Chicago?) See if you can catch him on TV today.

MIKE GOLD: On Conventions and Baltimore

baltimore_comicon_2011_logo_400-2194377I attended my first big comic book show back during the Paleolithic Age. It was either Phil Seuling’s first or second New York Convention, and it was a blast. There were about 500 of us in a Broadway hotel, and at least 475 of us didn’t realize there were so many people who were, in this respect, just like us. We realized we were not alone.

Cut to the 2011 San Diego Comic-Con. Add everybody up – paid attendance, freebees, professionals, dealers, Hollywood types, publishing people, foreign distributors, Communist spies – and there were about 150,000 folks stuffed into that convention boxcar. That’s like a 300x increase. OK, it took over 40 years to get to that point, but still, back in the late 1960s the Seuling show was the only big game in the nation. Today, you’ve got huge shows in New York, Chicago, Atlanta, Houston and/or Dallas and/or Austin, San Francisco… you get the point.

Sadly, as San Diego grew the comics presence diminished – and not just proportionately. Today, the comics part of the San Diego Comic Con is an afterthought. It’s so blatant that it was mocked on Futurama, by no less than Sergio Aragones.

I miss the shows that are truly about comic books. I don’t need the Hollywood whores, and if I want to see celebrities I can just walk around Rockefeller Plaza for about ten minutes. I want that feeling I had so long ago, at the ancient hotels Phil rented for the comparative handful of us to meet and greet each other, back in the days before the horrid eBay forced artists to charge for their sketches and before the evil eBay pulled the rug out from underneath the dealers’ feet.

I can’t say I miss those shows completely, as there are still a few around. The HeroesCon in Charlotte, North Carolina comes to mind. There are others.

This coming weekend, I’m going to my favorite of these few shows. Once again, I’ll be at the Baltimore Comic-Con – I rarely miss it – and I always have a great time. It’s run by good people who love comics and know how to run a convention. It’s got a lengthy guest list and it’s got the Harvey Awards dinner.

There are three other factors that are probably more personal to me. A lot of my friends and collaborators go to it – Baltimore is one of the few shows that Timothy Truman frequents, Mike Grell comes out from the northwest, and Mark Wheatley (who puts me up while he puts up with me) lives in the vicinity. Robert Tinnell, John K. Snyder, Bo Hampton, Ted Adams, Marc Hempel, Denis Kitchen, John Workman, Walter Simonson, ComicMix’s own Glenn Hauman and Robert Greenberger … the list of my friends there just goes on and on. Most important, unlike San Diego or the New York Comic-Con or Chicago’s R2D2, I can actually hang out with my buddies and meet my fellow fans.

Of course, the show is a mere four-hour drive from Connecticut. That’s about as long as it takes me to get from my front door to wheel’s up at New York’s JFK International. The six-hour flight to the left coast is extra. And the Baltimore show is only two days long: Saturday and Sunday. Yep, no padding, no unending lines to wait in, just two solid days of comics’ fanboy fun.

If you can make it, please do. I’ll be mostly at the Insight Studios Booth, and I promise I won’t hit you with my cane. At least, not intentionally. Yep, this is my first show since I destroyed my back. My back’s back, so I’m back.

Drop by and say hello. We’ll probably get into a conversation or something. It’s that kind of show.

(ComicMix editor-in-chief Mike Gold resumed his Weird Sounds Inside The Gold Mind rock’n’blues show, which streams four times a week on www.getthepointradio.com and is also available on demand at that very same venue. He also pens a very political column at Michael Davis World – http://mdwp.malibulist.com/ — where he joins ComicMix columnists Martha Thomases and Michael Davis.)

THURSDAY: Dennis O’Neil

FORTIER TACKLES MAC’S LATEST HELLER NOVEL!

  • News
  • July 10, 2011

ALL PULP REVIEWS by Ron Fortier

BYE BYE, BABY

By Max Allan Collins

Forge Books

326 pages

Release Date 16 Aug. 2011

ISBN 10 – 0765321793

ISBN 13 – 978-0765321794

Sometimes it’s all too personal.  Or so Chicago based private eye, Nathan Heller discovers when he’s asked by his friend, Hollywood sex symbol and superstar Marilyn Monroe to help her in her battle with Twentieth Century Fox. The year is 1962 and the famous blond is in a contractual contest with the studio that is facing financial ruins. When the entire energies of the studio’s marketing staff begin attacking her reputation and credibility, Marilyn retaliates.  Fearing the contest will end in court, she asks Heller to tap her phones thus providing her with physical evidence to present a judge. Heller, now in his mid-50s and a highly successful entrepreneur with offices in New York, Chicago and Hollywood, gladly accepts the job unaware his client is deeply embroiled in a sex scandal that could rip the country apart.

Heller soon learns that Marilyn’s sexual escapades with Jack and Bobby Kennedy have attracted a hive of dangerous bees to include the C.I.A., FBI, Teamsters President Jimmy Hoffa and underworld figure Sam Giancana. All of them have a vested interest in keeping the blond bombshell quiet.  When she dies only a few months later of a drug overdose, the usually unflappable Heller is shocked by the inept police investigation that follows. It reeks of a cover up and Heller is convinced the depressed film actress was murdered.  Now comes the tough part, proving it.

“Bye Bye, Baby,” is the fifteenth Nate Heller mystery, Collins’ longest running series and his most acclaimed.  So meticulous is the research that goes into each book, one gets both a fast paced thriller and a history at the same time.  Talk about more bang for your bucks.  Throughout the series, Heller has crossed paths with such personalities as Orson Welles, Frank Nitti, Sally Rand and Charles Lindberg.  He’s very much the detective version of a Forrest Gump.  Yet in all these past cases, he has never been more human or vulnerable.  This is due in large part to the events taking place in a time writer Collins is personally familiar with and it is that intimate connection that infuses itself into the character’s perceptions.

Norma Jean Baker, born June 1st, 1926, came to Hollywood as a model and became Marilyn Monroe.  She landed her first film contract in 1946 and went on to become the most popular screen sex goddess since Jean Harlow.  By 1953, she had progressed to leading roles and shaken off her “dumb blonde” image, winning the coveted Golden Globe Award in 1959 for her role in “Some Like It Hot.”  The true circumstances of her death sparked an avalanche of conspiracy theories still bandied about today.

 

Collins’ genius is taking the dozens of convoluted records and few remaining pieces of evidence to describe one possible scenario on how Marilyn was murdered.  In the end the story is a gut wrenching tragedy and perhaps Collin’s finest book ever.  It is one this reviewer was emotionally involved with from beginning to end.   I can remember all too easily being a fifteen year old fan when Marilyn Monroe died and the sadness I felt.  You see, Max, I loved her too.

DC Comics To Prosecute Tattoos

  • News
  • April 1, 2011

Superman tattooIn a startling move to control images of their copyrighted characters, lawyers for Warner Bros Entertainment, parent company of DC Comics, have begun issuing cease and desist orders to fans sporting tattoos featuring DC characters. While walking the floor of last month’s C2E2 in Chicago, several fans were handed official looking documents citing that they were in violation of DC’s copyrights– over their tattoos.

“It is unlicensed artwork. And like any bootlegged material we are going to come down against it. We see it as no different from t-shirt or other paraphernalia” said one of the WB lawyers.

Many comic book conventions, including ReedExpo’s New York Comic Con and C2E2, feature tattoo pavilions showcasing tattooists and their art. Wizard’s Chicago Comic Con has also welcomed tattoo artists onto their floor, encouraging fans to show off their ink or get some at the show.

“I guess I’ll have to wear long-sleeved shirts when I go to cons now” said one fan after getting a c & d order. He is close to finishing a Justice League themed sleeve on his left arm. “I’m not going to stop or get it covered up. It’s how I chose to express myself as a fan!”

This comes at a time when tattoos have become almost accepted in mainstream culture and as comic book movies are big budget blockbusters. And it looks like Warner Brothers has spotted a money making opportunity.

“We will be unveiling a line of official DC Comics Tattoos at this year’s San Diego Comic Con. Tattoo shop owners will be able to purchase these pages of tattoo flash for their shops and offer their clientele officially licensed DC Comics artwork.

Chicago’s new mayor isn’t the fake one we actually wanted.

  • News
  • February 27, 2011

twit_emanuel-9226256Listen up, you mutha-cluckers… Chicago has a new boss in town. Why does this matter to you? Because I said so. Why did I say so? Because the Second City is known for a few big things: The Chicago Style Hot Dog, Deep Dish Pizza, Da ’85 Bears, and maybe just an eensy-bit of good old fashioned corruption. But now it can be known for one more big thing. Our new mayor? Former White House chief-of-staff Rahm “The R-Bomb” Emanuel. When our current boss mayor, Richard Daley announced he’d retire this year from his post… Emanuel left his job in Washington to take his home city by the horns. But it’s been a long journey to get there. He took 54% of the vote, despite having his Chicago residency being challenged. He beat out the former city chief of staff, the former city clerk, and a former U.S. Senator for the title. But if you ask me? He didn’t beat one important candidate, his psuedo-self. In a paradoxical sub-dimension high atop City Hall, in a secret greenhouse known only to our beloved Mayor Daley… and @MayorEmanuel, the dimensional doppelganger of Chicago.

What’s that you say? You’ve not heard? @MayorEmanuel is the twitterverse’s Rahm Emanuel clone. The account started shortly after the “real” Rahm declared his intention to run. And boy did things escalate from there. @MayorEmanuel’s story unfolded over the months, and became an epic yarn with a full cast of characters. It began as a string of foul-mouthery perhaps poking a jovial jab towards the obvious; Rahm is known for his temper, his drive, and his competitive nature. He raised 11 million dollars to take his campaign to the streets of Chicago. He shook hands and kissed babies. We can only assume he attended secret cabal meetings, and struck backroom deals that we kindly city-folk won’t find out until they hit the nightly news a few years after his mayoral run ends… if it ends. His twitter counterpart followed the whole ride, as only a comedic four-letter-word-dropping twitter clone could do. And as the race for mayor drew closer to the vote, so did the drama.

Twitter to many is just that little corner of the interwebs where we drop a snarky one liner, or tell people where we are at. It might be a place for celebrities to tell us how normal they are, shopping for soup and whatnot, or how not-normal they are, like other Chicago Celebutaunt Kanye West. @MayorEmanuel used twitter to create a piece of short fiction (OR IS IT!?) that was truly original. A few bloggers followed the best of the posts and relayed just how awe-inspiring they were. And important people took notice. The “real” Rahm made and attempt to bribe his twitter-sibling with a donation to charity, to “out” himself. Smartly the anonymous fingers behind the 140 character-at-a-time hasn’t shown his face. Perhaps he escaped down the aforementioned time well in his tweets.

Give a gander at the saga, and kick yourself for not living here (that is, if you don’t…) and living through this live alt-meta-super fiction happening. In the mean time, the real Rahm is prepping his mayoral suit, and perhaps, setting aside a bit of our future city tax dollars towards a special “find @MayorEmanuel and break his hands” task force. I think I’ve said too much. All Hail Rahm! All Hail Rahm!

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