Honestly — I didn’t mean for that header to sound so … ugh … but there’s no turning back now.
Anyway: This seems like as good a time as any to confess that — along with a lot of other come-and-go interests that appeal to my collector’s gene — I’ve considered taking up stamp collecting as a hobby. Because, apparently, I don’t think I’m nearly nerdy enough.
What’s always grabbed me about stamps is pretty obvious; the art. The more generic stamps don’t do anything for me — snapshots of kittens is what the Internet’s for — but a lot of the portraits have a kind of timeless, etching-like quality to them, and other images are like 1-inch x 1-inch works of stunning pop art. Of course, other stamps just slot neatly into the comic book/sci-fi geekery that’s my crack of choice, so how can I resist something like this Edgar Rice Burroughs’ Tarzan stamp?
Issued last month, the stamp features the Lord of the Apes in action under the watchful gaze of his creator, and I really like the old-school movie poster feel of the artwork. I also get a kick out of it being a “forever” stamp so I can read it as, “Edgar Rice Burroughs Forever!!” (Exclamation points mine. Mine!!!) Granted, I’m more of a John Carter guy, but I’ll take what I can get.
And now that I think about it, the U.S. Postal Service has issued a bunch of superhero and comic strip stamps in the past. The shouldn’t be that hard to find, right? And I’m sure I could find some room on the bookshelves for some albums and, and …
When we last left our hero, Kalimán had just spooked the living bejeesus out of our favorite man-monster Makón by apparently returning from the dead and hurling him into a pyramid wall. Since all this would be a little hard for anyone to take in — and not just speech-impaired Neanderthals — Kalimán is immediately peppered with questions from his tomb-raiding pals.
Being a man of mystery who believes in the grand traditions of his time-honored trade, Kalimán of course tells them to get bent. Then he takes of his shirt.
"Good ... I think it's done. Now we should search for Eric Von Kraufen."
Finally explaining that he used the “actus mortis” to feign death and avoid injury, Kalimán does a little flexing and then takes Professor Farrel, Farrel’s daughter Jane, Zarur and young SolÃn deeper into the pryramid in search of the evil Eric Von Kraufen and Nila, the Egyptian princess he’s taken hostage.
Meanwhile, Makón has managed to channel his panic into a full-on sprint that takes him to Von Kraufen. Knowing Kalimán is on his trail, Von Kraufen tells Nila — who is privy to the secrets of the tomb — to stop screwing around and tell him where Ramses’ legendary treasure is before he starts torturing her the way he did her love, Zarur. Finally relenting, Nila presses some ancient buttons, flips some hidden switches and reveals …
"Oh ... how wonderful!"
… the biggest damn emerald you ever saw outside of a Zale’s Arbor Day sale.
But it might be too late because Kalimán is right behind them. Makón makes the first move, and it’s on!
"But it was too late. Makón launches over to kill Kalimán."
At the same time, Zarur sees Von Kraufen — the man who kidnapped the love of his life, tortured him at the end of a whip, and attacked his friends — and promptly loses his shit.
"Take this, snake!"
Hey, you know how the Comics Code Authority censored comics in the United States for decades, supposedly shielding impressionable kids from the evils of boobies and awesome violence? Well, there was no CCA in Mexico and nothing stopping Zarur from dispensing a righteous beating and a little desert justice.
"AAAAHH! Mercy! Mercy!" "Perhaps as you have had, coward?"
Mmmm — that’s some good justice. On the other side of the tomb, Kalimán has also decided to use the squeeze-’til-he-stops-breathing strategy. Though he does it a little … differently.
"We have fought enough, Makón!"
Hey, he’s a man of peace, remember? And if that means subduing the beast-like Makón with an enthusiastic bear-hug, so be it.
"Hmph! How does it feel, muchacho?"
But Makón recovers!
"But showing his abilities of great resistance, he turned and hit Kalimán with an enormous rock."
Man, I’m just glad there aren’t traps laying around that tomb, like deep pits or giant spikes or …
"Dispatched by Kalimán's foot, the monster fell into a deep pit ..."
Oh. Uh, well. Let’s mo … let’s move on.
With the bad guys … taken care of … and the mystery solved, Kalimán takes a moment to pray for his enemy’s smooth passage to the next world. Then the gang assesses their situation: Professor Farrel will lead a team of fellow archaeologists through the tomb’s once-secret chambers, Nila and Zarur are reunited, and Jane will just sorta hang out. But as Nila tries to explain to SolÃn the philosophy of living a tranquil life (which will no doubt be of comfort to him when he goes back to being a street urchin) she lets slip that his family tree has deeper roots than anyone thought.
How does she know this? It’s apparently not for us to know, but Professor Farrel picks up on it and figures something out — SolÃn is the descendent and rightful heir to the Ramses dynasty! And then a mummy shows up.
"... crashing with terrible force into the illuminated hollows."
Y’know, getting smacked in the face is bad enough, but getting smacked in the face with what’s probably a small statue of yourself is just insulting. Luckily for anyone worried about ancient curses, the standard mummy doesn’t usually shoot out sparks and loose wires when it takes critical damage. This mummy was a robot, the last evil invention of the mad genius Eric Von Kraufen!
The danger finally past, Kalimán says his good-byes and boards a ship to continue his travels and to bring peace and balance to the world. But what has long been a solitary mission becomes something else when he turns to see SolÃn, who tells Kalimán that he has renounced his title and his riches in order to join him on his quest, beginning what will be a legendary partnership and ending … “Los Profanadores de Tumbas!â€
"But ... but ... OK, SolÃn ... let's go forward, to new adventures!"
Yup, I was at it again, this time writing the cover story for Back Issue magazine — the COVER STORY! As you can probably guess, I’m pretty excited about it, especially considering the not-inconsiderable amount of work that went into it. Back Issue #59 came out this week, and if you’d like to read all about Space Ghost’s comic book history you should give it a look. It’s a tale of comic-style inspiration, the capricious nature of publishing, an unexpected change in direction and, of course, unrestrained lust in war-time. (One of these things is untrue.)
Seriously, though, I had a great time writing it and I think you’d enjoy reading it. And as if Space Ghost (not to mention a fantastic cover by Steve Rude) weren’t enough, the whole issue is dedicated to “toon comics,” featuring articles on everything from Marvel’s Hanna-Barbera titles to Jonny Quest to Star Blazers — fun stuff. Check it out!
When I first came across the work of Jack Kirby, I didn’t get it.
At the time, the man who was already called King was beyond me. I thought the art was ugly. I thought the writing was overwrought and overlong. The stories themselves seemed needlessly complicated.
I was, of course, wrong.
The art was groundbreaking, both in terms of layout and design, and the sheer energy arced off the page (there’s a reason it’s called “Kirby crackle” now). The writing was epic (in the classic sense of the word), and the King was shooting for creating nothing less than a modern mythology through sheer force of will. Amazingly, he succeeded, even if most people don’t realize it yet. Gods and heroes are larger than life, and so are their feelings and dramas, their victories and failures. Kirby’s writing and dialogue brought this to full realization.
I could gush about Jack Kirby all day long, telling you how he reinvented comics and blazed a trail still being followed today. I could post picture after picture of art work, displaying his monstrous talent at depicting everything from a New York City romance to cosmic battles of Good and Evil. I could tell you how his death in 1994 was a true loss, and how today’s comic book industry would do well to learn from the legacy he left behind. And it still wouldn’t be enough.
So instead, I’ll just say — happy 95th birthday, Jack. Thanks for everything.
The Kirby family is commemorating Jack Kirby’s birthday by working with The Hero Initiative, an organization well worth your attention. The group helps veteran comic book creators who find themselves in tough financial situations, a problem that is unfortunately all too common. If you can, check it out and and honor Kirby’s memory by pitching in, in whatever way you can.
Sandy pointed me toward this article about the “Heroes Next Door” photo exhibit in Honk Kong, which puts well-known superhero characters into everyday situations. The work, by photographers Chow Kar Hoo and Chris Lam, is good stuff, both in terms of technical expertise and the staging and casting. Wolverine up there is pretty great, and I don’t know why someone hasn’t put the pair’s Wonder Woman in a movie yet.
The concept isn’t an original idea, but it’s certainly one of the better executed. Also (for me at least) the reaction of the average citizen on the street is just as interesting as the intended contrast between the hero and their setting. In the series of shots you’ll see Batman — the somber and serious Dark Knight — striding through a narrow market as people dare to glance at him only after he’s passed, or out of the corner of their eyes. Superman, on the other hand, ambles down a wide boulevard, surrounded by smiling folks taking pictures and angling for a handshake.
A picture really does say a thousand words, I suppose, and more eloquently than any nerd debate. (And from what I can tell, Green Hornet is a real douche.)
Early this morning, about a half hour into a midnight showing of The Dark Knight Rises in Aurora, Colorado, a man allegedly used a side exit to break into a crowded theater, where he then released a smoke bomb or tear gas and opened fire with what is so far an unidentified weapon or weapons. As I write this, 12 people are dead, and at least 50 are injured. It is truly, without doubt, a tragedy.
The cable news pundits are, of course, already out in force. As are the politicians jockeying for positions that allow them to express both sympathy and blame. And as are the groups with an ax to grind, opportunistic enough to point fingers at gays, or “loners” or people who aren’t Christian enough or gun control (both for and against). Some so-called analysts are questioning the “midnight movie mentality.” Some are, callously, wondering how this despicable act will affect the movie’s performance at the box office.
It’s all ridiculous.
Here’s what matters: A lot of innocent people — men, women and, in at least one case, a young child — have been murdered. What was supposed to be a fun night out, a gathering of fans who were sharing the communal event of going to the movies and celebrating a beloved superhero, ended in senseless death and injury. A 24-year-old man, James Holmes, has been arrested for the crime and, thankfully, seems to have acted alone.
It strikes me how true that is; whatever his reasons, whatever twisted excuse he has, Holmes’ actions are his, and his alone. Batman didn’t make him do it. Violent films didn’t make him do it. Whatever politically expedient or fringe cause anyone wants to promote didn’t make him do it. Just one person, in a spasm of violence, created this situation, which has rippled from Aurora, Colorado out to a horrified world.
Over the hours, days and weeks to come, the picture will come into focus. We’ll have answers to the questions that are now flying by in a blur. But we’ll probably never really understand. How could we?
All we can do now is all we can ever do that makes any kind of difference — be kind. Be supportive. Be human. And, in that small way, be a hero. We can use some.
There was a time when I really envied people who were able to make it to the San Diego Comic-Con.
I won’t go into a long rant here, but let’s just say I’m more interested in the writers and artists and actual comics, more than the TV, movie and games industries that grew up and over them. Besides, with the ever-increasing crowds and dwindling chance of getting a ticket to the show, it quite frankly sounds like more trouble than it’s worth.
And then there’s this, and I’m reminded of what a great community the comic book world can be when it remembers to just get over itself. I don’t want to give anything away for anyone who hasn’t seen this yet (I just saw it late Monday night — thanks, Jen!), but you can find all the details about the production of what has to be one of the most kick-ass “fan films” ever at this link. I’m also ready to get really effusive about the lead actor in this short (and its inspiration), so let me know what you think in the comments.
OK, that’s about all I can say without actually saying anything, so enjoy “Dirty Laundry”!
