today I need some hate

I'm feeling a little woozy from all the candy I ate last night and still have a ways to go getting the house in order before the wife gets home, so here's an All Saints' Day linkblog post in lieu of actual content.

The best political commentary of this election season.

Satire is not only merely dead, it's really most sincerely dead.

Dorian celebrates Dario Argento's works in all their uneven glory.

Bully explains why ham should not be served at weddings.

Speaking hilarious truth to geekdom.

...and, finally, some sad news that I didn't get chance to address during the Halloween Countdown:

Teenage Head frontman, Frankie (Kerr) Venom, died from throat cancer at the age of 51.

Teenage Head - Picture My Face (from Teenage Head, 1979) - Punk at its purest -- hooky, snotty, and exuberant.

Because we must

I'm going to break from my usual light-hearted fare featuring talking tigers and war atrocities to post something important by John DiBello, a good friend of mine and the Little Stuffed Bull's human sidekick, about something that bugs the shit out of me and needs to be brought to the attention of the widest audience possible. Those of you into the comics and comics convention scene have quite possibly witnessed or experienced similar bullshit in some form or another. Those of you who aren't into the comics thing can feel free to shake your heads.

Overheard at San Diego Comic-Con while I was having lunch on the balcony of the Convention Center on Sunday July 27: a bunch of guys looking at the digital photos on the camera of another, while he narrated: "These were the Ghostbusters girls. That one, I grabbed her ass, 'cause I wanted to see what her reaction was." This was only one example of several instance of harassment, stalking or
assault that I saw at San Diego this time.

1. One of my friends was working at a con booth selling books. She was stalked by a man who came to her booth several times, pestering her to get together for a date that night. One of her co-workers chased him off the final time.

2. On Friday, just before the show closed, this same woman was closing up her tables when a group of four men came to her booth, started taking photographs of her, telling her she was the "prettiest girl at the con." They they entered the booth, started hugging and kissing her and taking photographs of themselves doing so. She was confused and scared, but they left quickly after doing that.

3. Another friend of mine, a woman running her own booth: on Friday a man came to her booth and openly criticized her drawing ability and sense of design. Reports from others in the same section of the floor confirmed he'd targeted several women with the same sort of abuse and criticism.

Quite simply, this behavior has got to stop at Comic-Con. It should never be a sort of place where anyone, man or woman, feels unsafe or attacked either verbally or physically in any shape or form. There are those, sadly, who get off on this sort of behavior and assault, whether it's to professional booth models, cosplayers or costumed women, or women who are just there to work. This is not acceptable behavior under any circumstance, no matter what you look like or how you're dressed, whether you are in a Princess Leia slave girl outfit or business casual for running your booth.

On Saturday, the day after the second event I described above, I pulled out my convention book to investigate what you can do and who you can speak to after such an occurrence. On page two of the book there is a large grey box outlining "Convention Policies," which contain rules against smoking, live animals, wheeled handcarts, recording at video presentations, drawing or aiming your replica weapon, and giving your badge to others. There is nothing about attendee-to-attendee personal behavior.

Page three of the book contains a "Where Is It?" guide to specific Comic-Con events and services. There's no general information room or desk listed, nor is there a contact location for security, so I go to the Guest Relations Desk. I speak to a volunteer manning the desk; she's sympathetic to the situation but who doesn't have a clear answer to my question: "What's Comic-Con's policy and method of dealing with complaints about harassment?" She directs me to the nearest security guard, who is also sympathetic listening to my reports, but short of the women wanting to report the incidents with the names of their harassers, there's little that can be done.

"I understand that," I tell them both, "but what I'm asking is more hypothetical and informational: if there is a set Comic-Con policy on harassment and physical and verbal abuse on Con attendees and exhibitors, and if so, what's the specific procedure by which someone should report it, and specifically where should they go?" But this wasn't a question either could answer.

So, according to published con policy, there is no tolerance for smoking, drawn weapons, personal pages or selling bootleg videos on the floor, and these rules are written down in black and white in the con booklet. There is not a word in the written rules about harassment or the like. I would like to see something like "Comic-Con has zero tolerance for harassment or violence against any of our attendees or exhibitors. Please report instances to a security guard or the Con Office in room XXX."

The first step to preventing such harassment is giving its victims the knowledge that they can safely and swiftly report such instances to someone in authority. Having no published guideline, and indeed being unable to give a clear answer to questions about it, gives harassment and violence one more red-tape loophole to hide behind.

I enjoyed Comic-Con. I'm looking forward to coming back next year. So, in fact, are the two women whose experiences I've retold above. Aside from those instances, they had a good time at the show. But those instances of harassment shouldn't have happened at all, and that they did under no clear-cut instructions about what to do sadly invites the continuation of such behavior, or even worse.

I don't understand why there's no such written policy about what is not tolerated and what to do when this happens. Is there anyone at Comic-Con able to explain this? Does a similar written policy exist in the booklets for other conventions (SF, comics or otherwise) that could be used as a model? Can it be adapted or adapted, and enforced, for Comic-Con? As the leading event of the comics and pop culture world, Comic-Con should work to make everyone who attends feel comfortable and safe.

(Editor's note: Maura, a frequent con-attendee, was astonished to discover that SDCC had nothing in the literature regarding anti-harrassment policies, as such rules of conduct are clearly laid out in black and white at many other, smaller conventions.)

correctable omissions

Happy birthday, Bully and Benjamin!
I brought you fellas a classic slice of festive rockabilly. Whether you like it or not matters less than the fact that I adore it....and no, I didn't keep the receipt.

Wanda Jackson - Let's Have a Party (from Queen of Rockabilly, 2000)

Friday watch the hands wind down

My wife got a package in the mail today from her super-cool friend Klah. Inside the box were a whole lotta Otter Pops, of the frozen confectionary and power pop varieties, as shown in the photo above. (The bag of garlic cloves near the top did not come in the package, but are instead our way of gearing up for the coming vampire season, despite the aversion for Allium sativum that I share with the children of the night.)

I didn't realize they even made Otter Pops anymore, and had wrongfully assumed they had gone the way of Goofy Grape, Lefty Lemon, and the rest of the Funny Face fruit drink clan, assumed into childhood nostalgia heaven. Even though I know deep down that there really isn't any chemical difference between the more staid Fla-Vor-Ice family of products and Otter Pops, a frozen stick of water, high fructose corn syrup, and artificial colors and flavors tastes decidedly better when presented by goofy cartoon mustelids named Louie Bloo Raspberry or Sir Issac Lime.

The musical Otterpops -- not to be confused with Freezepop or The Horrorpops -- are pretty sweet, too. 2001's Earth Science Club EP, the now-defunct outfit's sole release, features four tracks of slower tempo femvox powerpop that gave me ultra-lucid flashbacks to my college-radio listening days in the late 80's and early 90's.

The Otterpops - Trotsky - In hindsight, the Fourth International could have used more accordion playing and fewer icepicks in the ear. (The same could be said about the past three family reunions I attended.)

I taste the revolution

No extensive meditations on everyday life today, unfortunately. Maura and I had to make a suicide run down I-93 South past the Exit 14 frontier to attend the wedding of an old college pal of ours. It was a pretty classy affair, all said, and very interesting to witness how our friend and his lady managed to throw a big wedding without succumbing to the typical nuptial inflationary spiral.

I spent most of the time thinking about how odd it is that I've known my circle of college friends for almost seventeen years now, and that the space of time between 1988 and 1990 feels infinitely greater than the stretch between 1990 and 2007. Shit, 1995 feels like it happened yesterday.

I also managed to win our table's very beautiful and fragrant floral centerpiece, which I gave to Maura's mother when we stopped by her parents' house on the way home.

Electric Light Orchestra - Fire on High (from Face the Music, 1975) - The music is reversible, but time is not. Turn back. Turn back. Turn back. Turn back.

----------------------------

For no other reason other than I felt like sharing it, here's Captain America's once-and-future romantic interest, superspy Sharon Carter, facing off against the reactionary attitudes of the fifties as embodied by the revivified replacement Bucky of the McCarthy Era. (See, that's why I write so many posts about comics. What other subject would allow me to write sentences like that one?) It's from Captain America & The Falcon #156 (December 1972), by Steve Englehart, Sal Buscema, and Frank McLaughlin:

Peggy Lee - I Enjoy Being a Girl (from Latin ala Lee! 1960) - The good old days? Not really that good, honest.

Bikini Kill - Rebel Girl (from Pussy Whipped, 1993) - What a difference a few decades make...

three times ten plus three equals cake and ice cream

Friend Kevin Church celebrates his thirty-third birthday today. I'm not exaggerating for the sake of praise when I say that BeaucoupKevin.com was a major source of inspiration behind my creating Armagideon Time. As someone who specializes in convienience and complacency, I find myself dumbfounded by the attention to detail and drive toward aesthetic excellence that Kevin puts into his site. The written content ain't bad, either.

Kevin also collaborates with the also-awesome Benjamin Birdie on The Rack, a mighty fine webcomic, updated multiple times weekly, and through some unnatural ability to manipulate temporal currents finds the time to also maintain Very, a blog dedicated to the pop music institution that is Pet Shop Boys. There's this, too.

Happy birthday, Kevin!

Cibo Matto - Birthday Cake (from Viva! La Woman, 1996) - A song with a strong message, and that message is "You really ought to go back and play Jet Set Radio Future again."

Underworld - Tin There (from the WipeOut XL OST, 1996) - Because Mr. Church digs the Underworld, and "Born Slippy" would have been too predictable.

Decoder Ring - Ether (from Decoder Ring, 2002) - Every party needs favors. This Decoder Ring comes from Down Under to impart sweet communications of rock-inflected electronica (or vice versa).

up on the roof, out on the street

I have been informed that today is a very special day. The Armagideon Time reader, close friend of Maura's, and all-around cool cat known to the world as "klah," is celebrating her birthday today, and I would like to extend my fondest birthday wishes to her.

Here's a double-layer cake of femvox punk pop in honor of the libris regina of sunny Pasadena. Happy birthday, klah!

Sahara Hotnights - Rockaway Beach (from The Song Ramones the Same, 2002)

The Dents - One More Time (from Time for Biting, 2006)

my object all sublime

An old acquaintance of mine is going up before the bench today to deal with the consequences of his own perennially poor lack of judgment. I feel bad for the guy, I really do, but the chain of events that brought him to this point is largely of his own doing, and he’s lucky that the situation isn’t even worse.

Not everyone has a president in their ex-boss’s pocket that can bail them out of their personal pools of effluence, so I wish this person the best and hope he comes away from this experience having learned a valuable lesson…even if it’s fifteen years too late.

D’Oyly Carte Opera Company – A More Humane Mikado (from The Gilbert and Sullivan Vintage Collection, 2003) – I was really disappointed that this set did not include “Alone Again (Naturally)” and “Get Down” instead of a bunch of culturally insensitive opera songs.

The Out – Who Is Innocent? (from a 1979 single) – Who? Off the top of my head, I’d say she and he both are.

Classix Nouveaux – Guilty (from Night People, 1981) – Take some punk band alums (X-Ray Spex, in this case), throw in a theatrical frontman (Sal Solo), and season with melancholy synthesizer lines to taste and presto! Instant NuRo goodness!

two small horns and a wooly jaw

Happy 2nd Blogoversary, Bully!

Keep up the good work. This one is dedicated to you, my little stuffed friend.

-

Bad Manners - Wooly Bully (from Ska 'N' B, 1980) - I have no clue why this album is out of print, but then much of what record companies do mystifies me.

is truly outrageous, truly truly truly outrageous

This is Jem, who has recently decided that I’m his bestest friend in the whole wide world. Unlike the other members of his extended feline family, who are content to express affection for their humans in a more mellow fashion, Jem is a cat of action and expects “Boy” to respond in kind to his current obsessions.

His name came from the white spot between his eyes, which I thought looked like a diamond when he was a newborn kitten, hence “Gem.” My wife changed the spelling to “Jem” when filling out paperwork at the vet’s office, most likely because she was thinking of Jem Finer of The Pogues. He also responds to Jemma, Jembo, JemJam, and “AAAAARGH! Those are my toes, dammit!”

I’ve seen other bloggers ghostwrite cutesy posts from their pets’ point of view. Since I pride myself for keeping things authentic here at Armagideon Time, I’d be uncomfortable putting words into Jem’s tiny mouth. He’s a very clever cat. Why couldn’t he express himself in his own words?

It wasn’t easy getting the little fellow to the keyboard. The first time I tried, he got distracted by some cobwebs on the ceiling, and proceeded to tug at my shirttails and cry until I lifted him up so he could swat at it.

Then he kept dropping a balled up twist tie at my feet in order to let me know it was time for some cat soccer practice. His goal tending skills are remarkable, and mid-air catches are his specialty. Another couple of weeks of drills, and he’ll be ready to sign with Real Madrid.

When Jem finally made it to the keyboard, he managed to type this:

Fdsifjsojvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvv

;[ppoo[[[[[[[[[[[

AdsfDSAEDWSADEWFRWFEP;SQW qhasjkfspgspo

…before he somehow stumbled across a hotkey combination that reset all my display settings. While I was trying to fix the problem, he snatched my Iron Fist Minimates figure off of the computer desk and ran downstairs with it. A mad chase ensued, first with Jem, and then with Addy the beagle-boxer, who picked up the figure after Jem dropped it under the dining table.

So ends that experiment. Next time, I’m going to get one of my wife’s pet turtles to co-host instead.

Jem and The Holograms – Theme From Jem – I never even made the connection between Jem the cat and Jem the cartoon until a couple months ago. Since then, I’ve found myself singing the theme to him whenever he’s engaged in his usual antics. Freezepop added a cute cover version of the song as a hidden track on 2004’s Fancy Ultra Fresh album.

The Cure – The Lovecats (from a 1983 single, collected on Japanese Whispers, 1983) – This song is the end of the road as far as my interest in The Cure goes. The Top was an interesting, trippy failure, but it all went careening downhill from there.

input/output

As I mentioned in the Firestorm post, our attachment to things from our childhood tends to be predicated on personal context (i.e. simple nostalgia or other associative factors) and the sad fact our younger selves lacked the capacity to know crap when they saw, heard, or ate it. That’s not a dismissal; it’s an important part of the growing up process, empirically developing internal filters to separate sheep from goats. It leaves splinters, though, pockets of exceptionalism that get carried into our adult lives.

For a many a kid who came of age in the Golden Era of Videogames (roughly 1977-1984), the 1982 movie Tron is something of a holy text. It’s innovative art direction, pioneering use of CGI, and excellent console and arcade game tie-ins perfectly captured the zeitgeist of the brave new world of digital entertainment.

As with other popular franchises of that period, there have been efforts -- a couple videogames, a comic book, and re-release the old toys -- to recapitalize on its magic as a means of parting nostalgic adults from their disposable income. None have been particularly successful, but the old affection still remains.

I consider myself a fan of the franchise (well, as much as a notorious stick in the mud can be a “fan” of anything), but I have a hard time getting around one bitter realization: the movie is a retread of old Christian epics, with light cycles taking the place of chariots. From the epistemological discussion of the relationship between the creator (“users”) and creations (“programs”), to Flynn’s godhood made digitally incarnate, to the mention of prophecies and portents, Tron is as much an theological delivery system as the Narnia novels are. Like my discovery of the ideology behind those C.S. Lewis books, the realization left a bad taste in my mouth.

It’s not the message so much as the oblique means of delivery. Despite being a “filthy little atheist,” I think Cecil B. DeMille’s The Ten Commandments is a delightful film, even if I think the theology is a load of hokum. I’m less charitable when someone tries to slip some covert propaganda using the pretext of disposable entertainment. (This is also why I’ve never warmed up to vegetarian meat substitutes. If the food is tasty enough to justify eating it, it shouldn’t have to wear a mask.) Art is by definition manipulative, but I draw the line at being slipped an ideological roofie.

I won’t say the film has been spoiled for me (there’s that aforementioned exceptionalism in play), but it has diminished the film’s entertainment value by a noticeable degree. My love for the Wendy Carlos score remains unchanged, however. Now I just need to find a way to reconcile the film’s Christian undertones with friend Zartan’s shocking expose of Tron sex (Not a hoax! Not a slashfic!).

That article, along with the other many fine pieces he wrote for the late, lamented Zeroes Unlimited, was one of the earliest inspirations that eventually led to the creation of Armagideon Time. In honor of that, here are three obscure synth/new wave tracks that I think of as being the Tron universe equivalents to a Barry White LP.

JYL – Computer Love (from JYL, 1984)

The Metronomes – A Circuit Like Me (from a 1980 single)

The Units – Digital Stimulation (from Digital Stimulation, 1980)

fair is fair

I’m somewhat pressed for time today, plus I have a second, time-sensitive post I want to put together for later, but I would like to draw your attention to some projects by various friends of mine.

Rachel Nabors is a very talented cartoonist who has a weekly strip published online at gURL.com and also at her website, Subculture of One. I especially appreciated her strip from a couple weeks back, having been a late 80’s punk rocker who had to deal with the ugly fallout from the grunge/alt-goes-mainstream explosion firsthand, when every Tiffany, Trent, and Krystal swapped their BK’s and Benneton gear for a pair of Doc Marten’s and a biker jacket.

This week’s strip exposes the hidden truth behind manic kitten syndrome and its links to late 90’s pop music. For those interested in hearing the song referenced in the comic, here it is:

Len – Man of the Year (from You Can’t Stop the Bum Rush, 1999)

Speaking of webcomics, pals Kevin Church and Benjamin Birdie debuted the first installment of their “super seekrit” project today, and it’s a mighty fine effort. The Rack is a silly, seedy expose of the inner working of the nightmare world of comics retail, complete with puking children, a classic X-Men cover homage, and a reference to the most underappreciated Marvel character of all time. Well worth bookmarking, and I await the inevitable fanboy backlash with unconcealed glee.

The Yardbirds – Rack My Mind (from Roger the Engineer, 1966)

Last, but not least, this week saw the release of The Official Handbook of the Invincible Universe #2, featuring several entries written by the esteemed Dave Campbell of Dave’s Long Box fame. Dave was given a bit of latitude in fleshing out the backstories for some of the characters, so it’s a perfect chance to check out Campbell’s zany skills as applied to something other than Power Girl’s…ahem…endowments or a television series where Jan-Michael Vincent gets out-acted by a rotary-wing aircraft.

Pat Benatar – Invincible (Theme to The Legend of Billie Jean) (from Best Shots, 2003)

(Side note: Why hasn’t The Legend of Billie Jean been released on DVD yet? In an era where even the most marginal, niche appeal movies and TV series have been given the Criterion deluxe box set with a side of fries treatment, it’s an inexcusable omission.)