Tagged: ComicMix

Me Eat Meat, by John Ostrander

So there I was, in my car, tooling along, headed towards my eye doctor appointment, listening to my public radio station, WNYC, and one of their talk shows – the Brian Leherer Show. The segment was referred to as “Can Meat Be Ethical?” The guests were Joan Gussow, professor emeritus of Nutrition and Education at Teachers College Columbia University, and Gidon Eshel, Bard Center Fellow and a geophysicist at Simon’s Rock College.

I could already tell we weren’t going to be on the same wavelength for this segment.

Here are my basic ethics about meat: if it hasn’t eaten me, I can eat it.

Professor Gussow seemed relatively reasonable. She said grass fed cows are eminently preferable to grain fed and that one should shop locally for everything – meats, grains, fruits, vegetables – as that reduces the amount of fossil fuel for transport. And that we should reduce the amount of meat that we consume and treat it more like a flavoring or a condiment as many cultures do around the world. That would be healthier.

Professor Eshel would have none of it. I should probably try to separate his snide, patronizing tone from his message. The tone probably comes with his turf; Simon’s Rock, up in the Berskshires in Maine, is – according to its website – “a small, selective, supportive, intensive college of the liberal arts and sciences” whose “400 students come to us after 10th or 11th grade in high school.” The few, the proud, the elite.

Professor Eshel maintained that grass fed beef is worse than grain fed beef. Why? Because, as bad as cow shit and cow farts may be for the environment, cow belching is worse not only in volume but in kinds of gases being released into the atmosphere.  (more…)

52 Weeks of Reading Recommendations by Dennis O’Neil

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When ComicMix launched a year ago, we were especially pleased to include the legendary Dennis O’Neil as one of our regular columnists.  Denny has written and/or edited every major character in comics, including Batman, Spider-Man, Daredevil, Superman, Green Lantern, Green Arrow, Iron Man, the Question, Azrael, and Millie the Model.

Back in the day, when comics had letter columns, Denny would usually share his reading preferences with readers.  We’re delighted to have continued this tradition here on ComicMix in Denny’s weekly columns.

To celebrate the last 52 weeks of Denny’s contributions to ComicMix, here’s a list of what he’s recommended so far, in the order he recommended them and with his thoughts on the recommendations (when he provided them). You’ll notice that, sometimes, he suggests the same book more than once.  And sometimes, he suggests more than one book at a time.  That’s the kind of reader Denny is — he takes his time, and he’s eclectic.

Good reading!

2/13/07

Understanding Comics, by Scott McCloud

This is the one essential book for anyone with a genuine interest in the subject.

2/20/97

The End of Faith: Religion, Terror, and the Future of Reason, by Sam Harris

2/27/07

Anger: Wisdom for Cooling the Flames, by Thich Nhat Hanh

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‘The Wind in the Willows’ Review

Classic Illustrated Deluxe # 1: The Wind in the Willows
Novel by Kenneth Grahame; adapted by Michel Plessix
Papercutz, 2007, $13.95 (paperback) / $17.95 (hardcover)

I’ve wasted a lot of time not writing the review for this book, mostly because I suspected it would be one of the shortest in my career. (And both you and my ComicMix overlords deserve better than a super-short review.)

The problem is that there really isn’t much to say about Michel Plessix’s adaptation of The Wind in the Willows: it’s lovely and sweet, one of the best adaptations of a novel into the comics form that I’ve ever seen. When a book does everything right, it can be hard to talk about it, and I can’t see anything that Plessix does wrong here.

Plessix’s linework is careful and assured, capturing complex scenes with ease and giving life and emotion to a wide variety of anthropomorphic animal characters. Even more than that, he’s mastered the tricky art of those animals: they’re human enough to have gestures and body language, but animal enough to be believable as talking frogs, badgers, rats, and so on. And then he draws humans in the mix as well, and makes the combination not just work for the space of a few pages, but feel natural and obvious.

On top of all that is a carefully-chosen palette of mostly light, pastel colors, trying it all together with the perfect touch. The art of The Wind in the Willows is simply exquisite, but you need to look at it closely; it doesn’t demand attention but instead serves and advances the story. (more…)

“… this is Captain America calling…” by Mike Gold

There’s been a lot of controversy about killing and resurrecting superheroes. I know that, because we’ve done a lot of that here on ComicMix. It’s fun. Be that as it may, Steve Rogers is dead, deal with it; Bucky Barnes is alive, so we (meaning me) should deal with that, too.
 
Quite frankly, I would have been burning effigies of Joey Quesada for allowing  ol’ Bucky to rise from the grave – if not for the simple fact that Ed Brubaker’s run in Captain America is so damn great. Any lesser achievement would have inflamed my wrath and you wouldn’t like me when I’m angry.
 
Well, maybe you would, but only from afar.
 
Wandering back towards the point, it’s perfectly fair for someone to inherit the mantle of a “dead” superhero. I did this when I was editing The Flash; management wanted a new person inside the suit, and I felt strongly that Wally West earned his stab at adulthood. If Bucky Barnes (now referred to as “James”) is alive and well, he deserves the shield and cowl. So it’s only appropriate that I comment on Bucky’s transcendence.
 
There’s an odd timeliness to the story, as it opens with the doubling of the price of gas and thousands of homes being foreclosed. That puts a sharp contemporary edge on a story about a guy who should be 80 years old and keeps on linking his feelings to those he experienced in The War. But the economic apocalypse is a story-point that establishes the role Captain America will play in this continuing story.
 

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Capt. Marvel and Serial Retro-Mania, by Michael H. Price

 

515n0admfrl-_aa240_-6397917Apart from some chronic bouts of concentrated cliffhanger enthusiasm in visits with the pioneering Texas cartoonist-turned-fine artist Frank Stack, I haven’t paid a great deal of attention in recent years to the extinct form of Hollywood filmmaking known as serials, or chapter-plays.
 
I’ve overcome that neglectful tendency lately with an assignment to deliver a foreword for IDW Publishing’s The Complete Chester Gould’s Dick Tracy, Vol. 4 (due in print by March 25), which covers a stretch of 1936–1937 and thus coincides with the early-1937 release of the first Dick Tracy serial by Republic Pictures Corp. George E. Turner and I had covered the Republic Tracy in our initial volume of the Forgotten Horrors books – but a great deal of information has come to light during the nine years since that book’s last expanded edition.
 
The transplanting of Tracy from the newspapers’ comics pages to the big screen figures in an earlier installment of this ComicMix column. So no point in re-hashing all that here, or in spilling any fresher insights that will appear in the IDW Tracy edition.
 
Anyhow, I had expected that these strictly-research refresher screenings of Republic’s Dick Tracy and Dick Tracy Returns and so forth would bring on an attack of Serial Burnout Syndrome – but no such. If anything, the resurrected Tracy cliffhangers have stoked a level of interest that I hadn’t experienced since I had been granted my first looks at the Republic serials via teevee in 1966. (Those attractions were feature-lengther condensations, roughly half or less the running time of a theatrical serial, prepared expressly for broadcast syndication, and re-titled to compound the confusion: 1936’s The Undersea Kingdom, for example, hit the tube as Sharad of Atlantis.)
 
I had wondered aloud while comparing notes recently with Frank Stack, whose lifelong fondness for the serials influences his own approach to storytelling, as to how Dick Tracy in particular could have adapted so brightly to movie-serial form – given that Republic’s adaptation had altered many key elements of Chester Gould’s comic strip. Frank’s lucid reply:
 

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Ding-Dong, the Witch is Dead, by Martha Thomases

rudy_giuliani_dress-1369043It is hard for me to write about politics without frothing at the mouth. A lot of commentators are entertained by the horse race – who’s ahead, who’s behind, who’s sprained a limb, who’s coming out of the pack in a surprise advance – but I can’t forget that elections affect jobs, healthcare, education, the environment, and for some people, it’s a life-or-death decision. Many are the times I’ve scared my cat by screaming at the television, either at a commentator’s remarks or at the President who inspired them.
 
Tuesday night, I scared my kitty again. This time, they were screams of joy. Rudy Giuliani had lost the Florida primary.
 
There is a myth that Rudy cleaned up New York City, that he was a tough but fair elected executive who made the Big Apple safe for tourists. In truth, he terrorized the city, embarrassed us with his childish antics, and would have had to slink away from office if there hadn’t been a terrorist attack on his city for him to exploit.
 
Let’s consider one of his claims: he cleaned up Times Square. It is true that there used to be a wide variety of shops in that neighborhood that sold entertainments of a prurient sort. It’s also true that today, there are hardly any. Instead of sleazy shops and movie theaters, there are massive chain stores and franchise restaurants. It looks about as dangerous as a suburban mall – and about as interesting.
 
You may wonder why that’s so bad. Aren’t there a lot more people coming to New York to shop in Times Square now? Doesn’t that create a lot more jobs?
 

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Rant-O-Rama, by John Ostrander

 
Lots of different things pissing me off this week so let’s just make this one a grab bag of rant.
 
The Flordia Primary, Part One. Some time ago, Will Rogers, the noted American humorist, said, “I belong to no organized party. I am a Democrat.” Still true. Given the state of the country today – mired in a war that we shouldn’t have gotten into, edging into recession, a housing shortage that bids fair to upend our financial apple cart – the Democratic nominee for President should be a shoo-in. I think the DNC – the Democratic National Committee – assumes that. Not me. I still trust them to find a way to snatch defeat from the jaws of victory. It’s a time tested Democratic tradition.
 
Cases in point – the Florida and the Michigan primaries. You’ve heard a lot this week about the Florida Republican primary but not so much the Democratic one. Why is that? Because the DNC has decided to punish those two states for moving their primaries ahead despite what the DNC told them. Furthermore, the DNC says they won’t be seating those states’ delegates at the Convention later this year. That’ll show ‘em! Naughty locals!
 
Question: what state lost the Dems the election in 2000? That’s right – Florida. There’s also plenty of votes to be had in Michigan. Mary’s family comes from Michigan and she knows some of them who have voted Democratic regularly before. This time they’ll sit it out or will vote Republican. Why? They’re pissed that the Dems have told them their delegates won’t be seated; that their votes in the primary don’t mean anything. If some people told me my vote didn’t matter, I’d find others who thought it did.
 

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Death, Warmed Over, by Elayne Riggs

elayne-riggs-100-5281129As I type this I’m struggling through a pretty bad flu, which I am convinced I contracted on Thursday. That’s when I went for a job interview at the World Financial Center, a hermetically-sealed office and mall complex sandwiched squarely between the Hudson River and the now-cavernous World Trade Center site in downtown Manhattan. I’m unsure whether it was the biting winds or the horrendously long “pedestrian walkway” past the gaping hole of Ground Zero and back to the nearest subway that could get me home now that the Cortlandt Street stations are, it seems, permanently closed, but I haven’t been the same since I shrugged off the interview suit upon my arrival home. The next day Robin met his latest deadline, and we were looking forward to a somewhat active weekend — and then it hit. And it’s still hitting me, and has started hitting him. Funny how, at my age, “lucking out” translates into “thank goodness Robin and I got sick whilst I’m unemployed and he’s between issues!”

But you know, in the back of my head I can’t help but wonder whether I got ill, in part, from breathing in dead people. After all, we all know how the EPA of a government renowned for its repeated lies about everything else also lied to citizens about the air quality in that area. I know it’s over seven years later, but there’s still a ton of construction kicking up dust in that area, and the “walkways” offer scant protection, particularly on a cold and windy day.

Living through 9/11, being in the city the day the towers were attacked, one learns never to take life for granted. This is my 50th It’s All Good column for ComicMix, a milestone number of sorts, and so it seems fitting that I come back around to a subject touched upon in my first column here last February 15, scarcely a month after I’d lost my best friend. In fact, this would have been It’s All Good #51 but for the untimely death of my father. Sometimes the Reaper seems inescapable. Because in the end, of course, it is. And as it touches us all in real life, personally or otherwise (as with Heath Ledger’s recent demise), some of us find much less entertainment and amusement in its fictional counterpart. (more…)

Sex, by Mike Gold

I’ve been gallivanting across this fine country again like the high society bon vivant that I am, so I was a little late in scoring my family’s big box o’ comics. It was even heavier than usual, despite the fact that my wife and daughter are both big-time comics fans. I figure it was about four and one-half pounds heavier. That’s because Playboy Cover to Cover – The 50s, finally arrived. It was released as a Christmas item last November, no doubt under the belief that it would make for an excellent stocking stuffer should King Kong become a cross-dresser.

If you ask founder / publisher / editor Hugh Hefner, he’ll give you the impression he single-handedly invented the sexual revolution back in 1954. That’s okay; he’ll also give you the impression he has foursomes with The Girls Next Door. Whereas I think the creation of the birth control pill and the resultant sexual empowerment of women had a lot more to do with it than Hugh, he did take a lot of risk and paid some heavy dues. Remember, until 1965 laws prohibiting the distribution of information about contraception, and in some cases even the possession of contraception, were still on the books – and not just in the bible belt states. Connecticut was the last to fall. People still went to jail for publishing, owning or mailing stuff about sex.

From a sexual perspective, all Playboy’s success did was put some of the under-the-counter content out on the newsstand racks. By the time Penthouse and, later, Hustler came out Playboy was irrelevant from a pictorial point of view. Of course, later the Internets completely rendered Playboy magazine sexually impotent, as they supplied men the one thing any magazine could not: freedom from your own fist. No, sex is not the reason Playboy was hip. (more…)

Ballad of a Thin Man, by Martha Thomases

 

Last weekend, we finally caught up with I’m Not There, the brilliant Todd Haynes movie about the myths of Bob Dylan. The director intertwines the lives of six men, each symbolizing a stage of Dylan’s artistic development and public persona. They include a wide range: a young black boy, played by Marcus Carl Franklin; the protest singer, played by Christian Bale; the walking, talking enigma played by Cate Blanchett; the egomaniacal prick, played by Heath Ledger; the romantic, Ben Winshaw; and the lonesome recluse, played by Richard Gere. I don’t know if you’d like it if you aren’t a Dylan fan, but, if you are, it’s an amazing narrative.
 
On Monday, Brian Williams reported on the NBC Nightly News that the Monday of the last full week of January is known as “Blue Monday,” because it’s the single day that the most people are depressed, and has the highest suicide rate. 
 
On Tuesday, Heath Ledger was found dead in his apartment.
 
I don’t mean to imply that he committed suicide. His body was found by a masseuse, with whom he had an appointment, and people planning suicide don’t usually get a massage first. As I write this, there’s not a lot of information about what caused his death. The autopsy didn’t reveal anything, nor was there a suicide note. Police found prescription drugs in the apartment, but they’d find prescription drugs in my apartment, too. There was no evidence that these drugs had been taken in anything other than the prescribed dose. 
 
He was only 28 years old, and he had a daughter, Matilda, age two. And now he’s gone.
 
We know and grieve over Heath Ledger because he was famous. We knew his face. We sat in the dark of movie theaters, and projected our own emotions into his eyes. He was young and handsome and talented, and it’s a loss for all of us.
 
Those of us who love comics felt a special kinship, because he was playing The Joker in The Dark Knight. The trailers and the early teasers indicate that he gave a brilliant performance, one that understands the complicated character created by Jerry Robinson and further sculpted by dozens of writers and artists over the past 50 years.
 

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