Nothing says “I Love You?” like these actual Stargate movie Valentines from 1994. Yes, while the other kids swapped Lion King and The Mask Valentines that year, some kids must have been handing out James Spader Valentines and then immediately became picked last at every thing. There isn’t a dimensional portal big enough to banish that shame away.
But, if you’ve waited until the last minute again, just click on the images and print these babies out! If I knew any catch phrases from Stargate, I’d probably work that into a closing joke. But I don’t. So this concludes the post.
Step 1: Go to Six Flags with your kid brother in the early nineties. Step 2: Appear in a karaoke version of a New Kids on the Block song. Step 3: Shamed by the video and shunned by peers for admitting you like NKOTB, you lock it away in a cabinet for 20 years and begin a downward spiral of social stability. Step 4: Accidentally donate it to the Salvation Army. Step 5: Smart-ass finds it. Step 6: Internet star.
I love these kids. This video is almost too adorable for this website. I wonder who they are? I wonder why someone would get rid of a tape like this? I wonder if the kid on the drums was so bored because, in the overpriced Six Flags “Make a Music Video” studio, the drums have no drum heads. It’s true. Sorry to ruin the magic. I convinced my parents to let me do one of these videos only because I wanted to play the drums, only to learn there are neither drums to play or guitars with strings. I can’t remember what song we did, either. But I remember how disappointed I was between the sham music video, and the chalk caricature of me in roller blades. I wonder where my Six Flags music video is? Probably in my parent’s basement in a box marked “Donate to Goodwill Center.”
Fun as hell, but it made me exhausted from all the negativity I felt I was creating, and I remember a time when I wasn’t just some disgruntled ex-Wizard guy (which I am, to an extent…but I’m more interested in making jokes and hurling occasional poo-balloons than I am mounting any sort of real anger-campaign against Wizard. This is all fun for me, I have no real impact on anything Wizard Magazine does. Though I’d like to think, somewhere, a Shamus is bristling with anger, that’s probably not happening. Not once did the man remember who I was in all the times I met him.)
Yes…I remember a time when I was…a WIZARD FAN! Not yet a Wizard Employee—that would be years and years and years later—but a FAN! Yes, I remember a time when—after the now-defunct Wizard Universe Message Boards got particularly angry and riled up—editor and friend Brian Cunningham would step in an start a thread called “A return to our roots as comic fans” or something. Like, “I know the magazine is doing some dicky stuff, but let’s just talk comics and be civil, okay?” And he was genuine, and nice, and everybody got like Fonzie, real quick. And then they fired Brian, and everyone else, and that went right out the window. And it’s that little Brian Voice in the back of my head now, squatting beside my desk (he would squat like that) and saying “Be cool, man. Things were good once. Before the Dark Times. Before the Con Wars…”
It reminds me of my first Wizard Convention. The one I talked my parents into taking my brother and I to just prior to my Freshman year in high school, after reading about these storied conventions in the magazine year after year.
The one in Chicago, where I lost both my contacts in the pool the night before and MIRACULOUSLY FOUND ONE at the bottom. Chew on that for a bit. I found a clear contact lens at the bottom of a pool. With two bad eyes. It was fate. And I enjoyed the entire convention, half-blind, with a big stupid look on the Acne Plantation I called a face. And I didn’t have to work any booths, or clean up anything, or be there on business. And things were good.
…This was back when I was EXCITEDto see LOU FERRIGNO in person! Look how excited my dad and I are to see THE HULK! Hell yeah I’ll pay $20 for that! Long before people were like, “LouFerrigno is an asswipe!” Long before I saw the Hulk drinking alone at the bar at some Wizard after-party in Texas, where he could only DREAM of being more deaf so he wouldn’t have to hear the incessant come-ons of a hanger-on sorority girl!
…back when my favorite artist in the entire world was Mike Wieringo, and I stood in line forever just to see him! Back when I kept his Wizard cover under plastic until I could finally meet the guy in person, and he was as cool as I imagined and answered all my dumb Spider-Man questions. Back before I grumbled about calling some creator for a Spider-Man quote I didn’t care about getting, for a magazine they didn’t care about being in, so we could all go back to getting blackout drunk with interns. Back before Ringo passed away, and Wizard named a room after him, which caused a shitstorm of controversy!
…back when the line for the guy who played Spawn was so big, I had to take a picture from the sidelines! Back when I approached him and his model girlfriend outside the convention hall and got his autograph, as he acted like a total asshole about it before getting in his limo! Yes…A LIMO! FOR SPAAWWWN, DUDE! It was awesome. And I had a cool story about the guy playing Spawn being an asshole to me to tell my friends.
…Back when the hottest girls in the world were Avatar booth babes! Back when I wore a Star Wars t-shirt—and not even a cool Star Wars t-shirt—to a convention and it felt RIGHT!
…Back when scorned Darth Vader actor David Prowse wasn’t a DICK! Ok, he was always a dick, even back then. Just look at him, sitting there, wishing he had voiced Darth Vader. What a rube.
Which brings me back to this picture. This was the hottest girl I’d ever met, and the closest I’d ever gotten to a hot girl. Really, any girl. When she moved, her suit bowed out and I could see her full breasts from the side, and down the front of her G-string thing. Her wrist made crumpled, creaking sounds when she twisted it, on account of all the tight rubber material and aching seams.
I snuck away from my parents and my brother, said I had to go to the bathroom or something, and jumped in with a big crowd of men with cameras surrounding her. I quickly got some guy to take a picture of us. My eyes darted back and forth. At boob. At inner-thigh. At boob. At thigh. I was freaking out. Someone was gonna catch me. Hurry up and take the goddamned picture. But I didn’t care about my sun-burnt hair. Or the big zit on my nose. Or my trap-jaw teeth. Or my turkey-neck. Or my goofy Star Wars/Calvin Klein parody shirt. At this moment, I was hellbent for pleather.
When these pictures were developed, I had to get ahold of them first to sneak this one out. I was afraid my parents would flip.
Moments after this picture, I saw a skinny, big-eared man hurriedly walking across the convention floor. I knew instantly, from the Masthead page of Wizard, it was Publisher Gareb Shamus. I ran over to introduce myself, completely starstruck, as he continued toward a door, with purpose. “Hi! The Big Cheese!” That’s all I could think of to say. I was so, so incredibly nervous. That was his nickname in the magazine. So that’s what I said. “Oh hi…hi, howareya…” he said, nervously, and disappeared into a stairwell that headed to the show announcers booth. Years later I would meet him again, for the first time, at a company picnic. “I’m an intern for you!” “Oh that’s great, great!” he would always say back. “Just great…great!”
And then later, for the first time, we’d meet at the premeire of Spider-Man 2 in New York City. “Gareb! How’s it going? We work for you! For a few years now, actually!” a friend and I said. He looked at us, awkwardly. “Oh hi guys! That’s great…great!” and he nervously disappeared in the theater. Later, by total chance, my friend overheard him telling a story of how “these two guys approached him at Spider-Man 2 and said they worked for him, but he thinks they were screwing around.”
That guy never did know who I was. And man…Those were the days.
One of my favorite Halloween traditions is an annual email I get from a friend and college professor, Mr. John “I’ve Seen Everything” Dodd: A staggering review of 45 horror movies over 31 days. 90% of them you’ve never heard of, and 95% of them no person on Earth should take the time to watch.
While working at Wizard Magazine (I know, here we go again…), I had the opportunity to interview Hostel’s Eli Roth, Rob Zombie, 30 Days of Night’s Steve Niles and Tom Jane many times. Each time, those guys never failed to act cocky about their horror knowledge. I always just laughed to myself, because when it comes to horror, my boy Dodd could take those guys to school.
This list (and this is only one year!) is such an extensive undertaking, you just gotta give him props for enduring (in most cases) such trash for 31 days straight.
Dodd’s an amazing guy, and he’s pretty much the teacher that really got me wanting to be a full-time writer. It’s easy to see why.
This was apparently his last year for this, and I’m hoping he will somehow break both his legs so that all he has time for is sitting in a chair, watching, typing and amusing me once more with 31 horror reviews a year. Write, horror monkey! WRITE!
Everyone,
Here it is year five for the annual 31 days of horror. Once
again I am wearied and saying this might be my last October,
that I will retire and do whatever other people do in
October. Sure, I had to take Saturdays off, not because I’m
Jewish, but because my work schedule requires me to work
all day on Saturdays. Oh well. Let’s begin.
October 1 – Off to an anemic start ** HOUSE OF TERROR
If there was truth in titles this one would be called House of Very
Mild Suspense. The dusty thriller has a nurse hired to look
after the wife of “one of the richest men in California.” Nurse
has a crooked boyfriend, boyfriend kills rich wife and stages it
as a suicide, nurse marries rich dude, boyfriend plots an
accident, nurse falls for rich dude, everyone dies at the end
(when if finally comes). Just a little too racy for TV in 1973
but not explicit enough to stretch the PG rating.
October 2 – Not any better
*1/2 THE RED HEADED CORPSE
Once again, we have a mystery masquerading as
a horror film. In this Italian film, Farley Granger brings home
a sex doll and imagines it coming to life in the image of a former
love. A long flashback shows the viewer how he became delusional.
Watchable but unmemorable, The Red Headed Corpse will be forgotten
two days after watching.
October 3 – We have blood (well, a little anyway)
**1/2 WELCOME TO ARROW BEACH
A Young Meg Foster plays a hitchhiker wandering through
the private beach of eccentric Jason Henry (played by Laurence Harvey
who also directed). Henry invites the girl to stay at his house
but has a secret. Since a pre-credit scrawl informs the viewer
that human flesh has been known to become addictive, one can
guess what Henry’s secret is. One imaginative murder (with
still photo shots) and the a good cast help out. John Ireland
and Stuart Whitman play (what else?) cops. Unfortunately, Laurence
Harvey’s daughter Domino does not show up to kill anyone.
THERE’S 30 DAYS TO GO! CLICK ON THROUGH…UNLESS YOU’RE….CHICKEN.
Halloween being my favorite holiday, and getting out of any and all learning activities a close second, you can imagine how I kicked myself when I forgot to dress up for Mrs. Fife’s drama class one morning in High School. The deal was, if you dressed up, you got to leave class and go show off your costume to the little kids. Everyone else got to stay behind and do assignments. Thinking I was sneaky, I got into the prop closet before class started and had my friend Bryan spray silver hair color all over my entire visible body.
And here’s how that conversation went:
TEACH: What the hell is this?
CHRIS: I’m the Silver Surfer!
TEACH: Tell me you didn’t use that hairspray color to do that
CHRIS: Yeah, you caught me, ha ha ha!
TEACH: Chris, you have to wash that off your skin.
CHRIS: Ok, I will, ha ha ha! Oh well, I tried! HA HA HA!
TEACH: No I’m serious…like right now. Any minute now your skin is going to stop breathing. You have to get that stuff off immediately.
If my face wasn’t doused in a thick chemical aerosol, you would have seen it go immediately pale when she said that. Try to imagine this being how you die: your pores were blocked by silver paint, your body stops getting oxygen, and you die on the floor of your drama class…and not even particularly well, since you suck at acting.
It literally took hours to get all this shit off my body. My skin was raw and bleeding. And when it rinsed off, the paint dripped all over my sensitive bunch. I’m talking real Tin Man’s balls here. But I missed most of the school day, which was kind of the point. And I got the shiny set of testicles I still sport today. What, do you think I washed them off? Dude…c’mon, chrome balls! I finally figured out how!
4. Hobo with Distended Ulcer
“Hi! I’m Apple Cheeks the Gainfully Employed Hobo! I gotta BIG CEE-GAR! I got me a Dick Tracy HAT! I’m a Lone Ranger memorabilia collector! Straight off the black gold, nuts in my hand, trustin no man, got my glock cocked, runnin this thing, ya understand ! AH CHA CHA!”
I think this picture ran in the paper. I have zero recollection of being this…whatever I am. The Green Hornet’s hayseed-in-the-city cousin? Jimmy Durante’s loser kid? I don’t know. If you know, then GIVE YOURSELF A GIANT CEE-GAR, KID! AH CHA CHA CHA! One thing’s for sure: there must have been a fire sale on Lone Ranger masks. Why does a Hobo need a Lone Ranger Mask? Why does the Pumpkin Girl in front of me? Was this some bizarre Kid Identity Protection clause at the newspaper? Or have you just wandered into a junior production of Eyes Wide Shut? I think this is right before I tricked Nicholas Cage into rescuing me, so we could put him in a giant Wicker Man. THE DRONE MUST DIE! THE DRONE MUST DIE!*
*middling reference to the 2006 Wicker Man remake, which I have just watched and feel I must immediately reference before my brain purges all memories of that movie from my cortex. Which happens right about….now.
3. Anton Chigurh
Left: Mugshot of Death Cab for Cutie keyboardist after some hostile snicker-snag with unruly fangirl. Right: Oscar-Winning badass.
Guess how many Halloween bar-patrons have heard of the 2007 Best Picture “No Country For Old Men,” and Best Supporting Actor Javier Bardem as Anton Chigurh, most iconic screen villain in recent years? The answer is zero. Or, to be more exact…
….how many Halloween bar patrons, after several beers, could recognize a walking broomstick of a man holding a painted garden sprayer with a Prince Valiant shag as the most terrifying film villain of our time? The answer to THAT…is also zero. I was so in love with Anton Chigurh that year, that I was blinded by the fact that you should never, ever go as a person for Halloween. And without the larger-than-life screen personality, eyes that could stop a man’s heart, or blood curdling voice, that’s essentially what I went as that year: a person. Jesus, THIS guy looks more like Anton Chigurh, and was better received at the bar:
I guess I figured people would say, “Who are you?” and I would say “Anton Chigurh, friendo!” and they would laugh and laaaaaugh and say, “I love that Oscar winning movie!” and I would flip one of the many quarters I was carrying around in my pocket that night and say “CALL IT, FRIENDO!” and they would say, “Oh no! ha ha ha. Don’t do it!” and I would squirt them in the forehead with my water-spraying, fake oxygen tank thing.
What actually happened is I just wandered around trying to keep an unapproachable look on my face, as everyone’s eyes darted in the opposite direction. I probably just looked like a retarded, angry landscaper.
So never go as another actor for Halloween. Unless you were horribly disfigured in a police accident, then you can go as Fred Krueger: Motivational Speaker
The next rule is, when all else fails, go as Gallagher, like my friend Sarah did. As in, “Who’s that cool Gallagher chick hanging around with that denim-loving ass-gardener?”
Pictured: Not at all a terrifying moment.
2. Every Clown My Parents Forced Me To Be
You see that mouth hanging open? That is the face of a brainless, mouth-breathing baby. That’s me. I’m that stupid baby. You know what I’m probably thinking right there? I’m probably thinking about eating my sock, or digging my fist into my own eye. That’s because babies are ridiculously, hilariously stupid creatures. Because they’re stupid and can’t make their own decisions, their parents decide what they are for Halloween until the child is cognizant enough to point at the TV and say “Mider-Man.” (that’s Spider-Man. That’s how I said it, and that’s how I got my first vinyl Spider-Man costume).
But until that time, my parents made me a clown. Year after yarn-brained year. And you can see, after half a decade of this, just how excited I was about it…
Pictured: From the photo series “Bad child gets what it deserves” or, alternately, “Purple clown placed in hot sun.”
Yes, I never got tired of this crap. I believe I allowed my face to be painted in this picture in exchange for a balloon and an A-Team shirt. Absolutely no dignity.
That’s also why, to this day, I believe I see a midnight visitor whenever I look out my bedroom window. Someday, my kids will too.
1. A. GOD. DAMN. CABBAGE. PATCH. DOLL.
When I was digging for these old costumes, this picture hit me like a pink nightmare. What. The. Hell. Was. This.
To be blunt—to be absolutely, frank, really—“Holy tits, why was I dressed like a fucking Cabbage Patch Doll?!??!” was one question that breezed through my mind. Again, I have zero recollection of this. I sincerely hope that thing hanging around my neck is a pacifier, and not a “plug” of some sort. Mom explains that this costume was thrust upon me, again, by my Aunt who hates little boy cousins, but enjoys little girl nieces.
There must be a big metal bin in most minimum security sex offender prisons where the mail sorters throw contraband pictures that come addressed to inmates. Near that metal bin must be a smaller, pink basket wear the guards throw only the most twisted and mind-shattering of incoming inmate mail. Alone, this picture would occupy that pink basket. Surely, this is the only reason I can think of for a picture like this to exist: be be mailed to a convicted pederast, or to bait one into appearing on Dateline.
Cabbage Patch related side-story: Kids of all sexes in my town went ape-shit for Cabbage Patch Dolls, like the rest of the country, in the early eighties. My small, backwater town was ill-prepared for this demand, but managed to get some dolls in that sold out instantly. And yet, somehow, my mom got my brother and I a Cabbage Patch Doll that just wasn’t selling in my tiny, values-driven Illinois town. No one had even touched it. I couldn’t believe our luck. My brother and I loved running through the yard with that thing, clutching our blankets. It wasn’t until years later that we figured out the reason my mom got her hands on it: it was a BLACK Cabbage Patch doll, and no other moms in town wanted it. Wow. Just….wow.
So, yeah, our family was ahead of the curve on human/doll race-relations.
The background of this terrifying picture is, of course, the popular Halloween posing spot in my house, as seen in “Skateboard Frankenstein,” so we’ve come full circle. I hope you’ve enjoyed a look at my most tragic Halloweens to date. Lord knows I’m now dead inside.
Christmas can go swallow a whole bottle of Flintstones vitamins and die on the way to the hospital as far as I’m concerned. Halloween is where it’s at. I’m working really hard this year on another boss costume to top last year’s Care Bear costume, an idea I BLATANTLY STOLE from Rickey Purdin and James Walker. And I got away with it, because I moved 1000 miles away and no one’s heard of Rickey and James west of Cincinnati:
Shown: Me as Care Bear and unnamed, sober woman I may or may not work with
But my ideas, stolen or not, haven’t always been on the mark. Here are the first 5 of the Worst Halloween Costumes I’ve Ever Worn (Look for the rest as the week goes on!!!!)
10. Skateboarding Frankenstein
Old school Nash skateboard? Pretty cool. Homemade paper mache Frankenstein head? Quite a feat of my mom and I. But combine the two, and I look like a Ralston Cereal Mascot reject: “Frank N. Boarder! Part of your complete breakfast, dudes!” And what’s with my neck bolts being in my forehead? If this rang my doorbell, I’d kick it in the nuts just on principal.
9.Teen Wolf
The guy in the middle? He’s the winner of the Jack and Jill Grocery Store costume contest. That’s because he looks like what he’s supposed to be. My cousin Jarrod on the left there, even he looks like a parrot. I’m supposed to be Teen Wolf. Here’s a quick comparison:
There’s no mistaking the picture on the left as Michael J. Fox as the beloved 80s icon, Teen Wolf. And there’s no mistaking the picture on the right for, what appears to be, a bear cub with Barry Gibb’s pubes glued around it’s entire head, wearing a flannel shirt. Needless to say, I didn’t win the Jack and Jill Grocery Store costume contest.
Name dropping side-story: When I worked at Wizard Magazine, I used to have to interview writer Jeph Loeb all the time. Then, one day, someone revealed to me that he wrote the Teen Wolf movie AND Commando! “Teen Wolf bought my first house,” he told me. I was floored. From that point on, and to this day, all I want to really talk about with Jeph Loeb is Teen Wolf. I don’t give a shit about how he and artist Tim Sale interact, I don’t care about what’s going on with Lost or whatever he’s producing these days….I want to hear goddamned Teen Wolf stories. I could not get enough of them, and took every opportunity to try to get one more out of him.
8. Jaws from Jaws IV
We got a lot of use out of this costume, which my mom made from those cool patterns they used to sell at Wal-Mart, housed in big filing cabinets, before Wal-Mart said “aww, fuck it” and started selling the same five “slutty nurse” costumes for $40 apiece. If I was 10 years old in 2009, I’d probably be a slutty nurse this year. There’s, like, no other choice.
Between me, my brother and my cousin I think, we got a lot of laughs from relatives who thought we were the SNL “Landshark” from year to year. Not exactly the vision of Dreyfuss-eating terror I was hoping to inspire. What you’re not seeing is a view from the front, where my face is painted black in the shark’s gaping mouth. Probably because I don’t want a more pictures of myself in Blackface all over the internet. Hey, I don’t need THAT public relations headache again, am I right!?!
But, hey, I thought I looked like Jaws. The rest of the neighborhood probably thought I was going as “An Orca eating Al Jolson,” but that’s neither here nor there.
7. Sad Vampire
This was another case of me being way ahead of my time. Today, sad vampires are all the rave, and adorable little Hulk Hogan costumes would just be too tasteless to imagine in light of the Hulkster’s divorce scandal, son-killing-a-kid-with-his-car scandal, daughter-being-a-talentless-whore scandal, and transvestite wife scandal.
I think that Hulkster is this guy Beau Thomas, I can’t remember. Though, I do remember being really jealous of his costume, and really feeling like I had phoned it in with a common vampire get-up that year.
“Stupid, SO STUPID!! You’ll never win the Jack and Jill Grocery Store contest with this bushleague vampire horseshit!!! Another year wasted!!!!,” I might be heard to say, alone in my room, slamming blocks and grinding potato chips into the carpet.
6. Michael Keaton’s Batman
I feel really bad about putting this on the list, because I think I gave my mom a really hard time about it, and she probably looked really hard for a good Batman costume.
I was in fourth grade, and Batman: The Motion Picture WAS MY EFFING WORLD. And evvvvery last sumbitch was going as Batman that year, and we knew we were going to have to top each other. I know it’s around somewhere, but I can’t find classmate Ryan Heinz’s superior Batman costume. I believe he held me down that year, and made it quite clear that HE WASN’T THE ONE WEARING HOCKEY PANTS!!!! I conceded his point.
Mine had ears that wouldn’t stand up, and a Lone Ranger mask sewn into it. Looking back, there’s probably nothing that could have met my expectations of a Batman the Movie costume short of Kevlar body armor with pre-molded nipples. But they weren’t selling that at Walgreens that year: they were selling this. And here I am, trying as I might to re-create the “terrify criminals with my cape extension trick” scene from the first 15 minutes of the movie. Just sad, really.
I lost whatever contest was going on, and Ryan Heinz went on to be the coolest man to ever live.
Shown: Redefining the shit-eating grin, Batman showoff Ryan Heinz
TOMORROW: THE REST OF THE WORST!!! HAPPY HALLOWEEN!!!
Christmas is coming quick, and there’s only one hot toy on every kid’s list this year: Finger Pupies!!!
“Cuddly Pets you Wear on Yours Fingers!” I’ll take two, please. And does the big Choking Hazard sticker on the side come standard? Then I’ll take all you’ve got.
I found Finger Pupies in High School not at a Dollar Tree, not at Dane’s Discount, but at Wal-Mart in a big end cap display. And I’ve gotta say, I’m pretty shocked this came from Imperial Toys: they’re the Microsoft of bargain bin toys. They license low-end Spongebob and Marvel stuff, for crying out loud. I would expect this kind of behavior from the company that makes The C.O.R.P.s GI Joe ripoff figures, but c’mon….
And check it out, bargain bin toy company Imperial is the only bargain bin toy company in the world with a (SPOILER ALERT) website! And on that website, a fun “poll zone” question!
What year was Imperial Toy founded? A.) 2008 B.)1986 C.)1969
The correct answer is D.) who gives a shit.This is the crappiest “poll” I’ve ever taken, even topping Facebook’s “Which Lil’ Wayne lyric are you?” poll. The worst part about this “poll?” THEY DON’T TELL YOU THE ANSWER.
Listen assholes, “What Year Was Our Company Founded” is not the kind of thing that’s up for popular debate. Just because 58% of idiots are so bored out of their mind from fingerbanging their Pupies that they take a poll like this, doesn’t make it true or interesting. Is Imperial Toys so shitty, that no one remembers when their own founder woke up one day and said, “Hey! Let’s mass market a finger fucking dog toy!”??
Maybe this poll has a more sinister purpose. Maybe Imperial Toys has secretly designed a time machine so they can take the most popular year to be founded, go back, start their company at that most lucrative of dates, and become retroactively more popular than Hasbro or Mattel. But since they can’t even spell “puppies” right, I think the Flux Capacitor is a few years off.
I’ve got a better poll for Imperial Toys:
How would you not like to die? A.) Choking on Finger Poopies B.) Wearing digit-fornicating pets on yours fingers C.) All of the above.
Ok, so they spell “Puppies” right on the back of the card. I would have just spelled it “Pupies” again to save face, and make it look like I was launching an X-Treme new spelling of “Puppies.”
It doesn’t change the fact that if you sit on a public bus and read aloud “FINGER PUPPIES! FINGER PETS! FINGER PONIES! FINGER ELVIS! FINGER FRITZI AND TABITHA!” you will immediately be tackled by the other passengers, detained until the cops arrive, and forced to go door to door every time you move to a new neighborhood to explain yourself.
My best pals Joeand Izumi (she created the Ewok/Woookie Dance-Off Video!) just had their baby. The kid has probably already crawled up on the bed with them in the middle of the night and sucked their life-energy out of their sleeping mouths, because that’s what babies do. I mourn the free time of my friends but, in fairness, it’s a real cute kid.
I always knew Joe would be a great father, because he’s unafraid to tackle life’s dilemmas head on…with a camera and a bucket full of action figures. From High School, here’s his riveting Teenage Turtle Pregnancy after school special. I love this video because you can tell Joe made this because he wanted to make a movie, not because he wanted 100,000 people to see it. Plus, it’s hilarious…probably one of my all time favorite home movies. Will Tersha get an abortion? Stick around for the dramatic conclusion….
For the record, Joe kept his egg. Way to go brother.
This “Mountain Fury” clip comes courtesy of my pal Junkstore Jesse, who mailed me this VHS with the tagline “If you go into the woods today, you’re in for a big surprise!” I had no idea this is what they meant. Never before have two actors said so much without saying a single word. I think you’ll agree.
That’s funny, because I had the exact same reaction when I saw a scene like that, in a movie that promises THIS on the cover. I want my 50 cents back! In retrospect, maybe the title’s use of the “Seventies Tee-Shirt Font” (where the “Dokken Font” should clearly have been engaged) should have raised more than one red flag. And why are those tiny men rappelling into that woman’s hair? Don’t be a hero, soldier!!!!! You’ll never make it!!!
Shown: The Most Feared Man in Comics. For Some Reason.
A lot is being made today of THIS: some Guy In A Yellow hat (no seriously, that’s the name he goes by…it’s supposed to be funny) went up to Rob Liefeld at Wizard World Chicago 2009, and pretty much tells him “you suck” to Rob’s face, and then proceeds to play a series of douchy little pranks on him.
Comics fans are split: some think this Jim Henson’s Punk’d Babies stunt is funny, fans of being a decent person are outraged, and even comic pros are weighing in and going Rabble Rabble Rabble on the message thread.
Me? I don’t care. Everyone will live. If this is the biggest controversy today, then I sleep easy. Rob will go home to his wonderful family and forget about it, and this Idiot in the Yellow Hat will return to the Baby Gap to try on new baby sun-hats.
Non-comics fans have ZERO idea who Rob Liefeld is, why any of this is controversial and why they should care. My Rob Liefeld tell-all feature for Wizard Magazine would haveexplained that clearly, but it never came out. Because the Legend of Rob Liefeld is truly an amazing story worthy of even non-comic book publications. I say that knowing full well I may re-ignite Rob’s ego. But it’s true.
I truly believe Rob would have loved the article as well. I really tried to be fair about the good and the bad, and separate the man from the oversized-pectoral myth. I owe all my feature subjects that. It wasn’t going to be just another Liefeld Slam Piece.
(And, yes, if anyone’s interested in paying me to complete the story for them, then they can have it. It’s ageless.)
Shown: the thing people always show when they talk about Rob Liefeld. It’s the comic book equivalent of the Zapruder Film, and will be just as over-analyzed and studied 50 years from now.
The drafts spiraled out of control…3000 words….5000 words…there was just too much goodness. My God, it was full of stars. And I was loving it.
I interviewed scores of industry folk who love/despise Rob, did extensive interviews with Rob in person and on the phone, researched the history to the point of madness, transcribed countless pages of the craziest industry stories of all time, had secret sources pointing me to dark little corners, and even had sources call me back and tell me they wanted OUT of the feature because they thought Rob Liefeld might sue them or hurt them!
“He’s been showing up in places I was, and it’s been freaking me out. I think he knows I’m talking to you. I don’t want you to run my quotes anymore. I think he drove by my house and yelled something last night.”—a skiddish Rob Liefeld interview source.
Holy shit, are you serious? It was like the Sopranos, if Tony was feared for the way he drew Captain America.
A lot of shit was going down at Wizard at that time (including me trying to get the hell out of there), and in the process of keeping the magazine afloat, this “evergreen feature” just got shelved. Plus, Wizard was afraid they would get sued, and that it just wouldn’t be worth the trouble (even though everything in my story is completely backed up. It’s an A+ use of my Journalism degree). I think we ran a Casting Call feature that month instead.
Anyway, here’s an unedited taste of part of the first draft, which I suddenly remembered I had lying around when I saw this whole Yellow Hat fiasco, and read some stuff my friend Sean T. Collins said:
“As a matter of fact, I think it’s only the rise of the internet that gives people the impression that it’s okay to be mean to complete strangers in the first place. That some people feel comfortable carrying that behavior over into the real world is borderline sociopathic. We live in a society.”
Jump to read the first part of the unedited, unpublished Wizard feature on Rob Liefeld!
