Happy holidays from Jones Soda

At Target yesterday, I spied the Jones Soda Holiday Pack. Having read about last year's offerings, I was curious to see this year's flavors.

Turkey and Gravy, Wild Herb Stuffing, Brussels Sprout, Cranberry and Pumpkin Pie.

Ah, but that's only what's in the National Pack. Those crazy folks at Jones also have unleashed a Regional Pack, in which you'll find Broccoli Casserole, Smoked Salmon Paté, Turkey & Gravy, Corn on the Cob and Pecan Pie. The Regional Pack is available in select areas, so check the Jones Soda Web site to see where you can find it.

And if you think I'm going to buy them and tell you what they taste like, then you are out of luck. I have my limits.

Fortunately, Matt at X-Entertainment.com has done all the hard work. Check it out.

And on a happier note, the holiday packs are fund-raisers for St. Jude’s Children’s Research Center and Toys for Tots. Jones Soda might have concocted the soda fountain from hell, but their hearts are in the right place.

Things I never thought I'd say, let alone on a regular basis

"Your head is not a napkin."

Gift ideas for the sarcastic blogger in your life

I know everyone is bummed that they missed my birthday, but if you want to make up for it, Target.com has a few things that would be acceptable.

There's this:

And, if you really like me, you can get this:

They are available beginning Nov. 15, so that gives you all plenty of time to search the couch cushions for change or recycle those aluminum cans.

"Eighty-eight miles per hour!"

Today is a special day; an anniversary worth celebrating.

It was 50 years ago today that Dr. Emmett L. Brown was inspired to create the flux capacitor, which, as we all know, is what makes time travel possible.

So to you, Doc Brown, we tip our hats.

Other fun Nov. 5 facts, courtesy of IMDB.com: If she were still alive, Natalie "Lovey Howell" Schafer would be 105 today.

A lot of musicians have a birthday today: Ike Turner turns 74, Art Garfunkel is 64, Peter Noone of Herman's Hermits is 58. Strangely, Bryan Adams and Ryan Adams both celebrate their birthdays today. Bryan Adams is 46, and Ryan ("I'm not Bryan Adams") Adams turns 31.

And because there's always a Star Trek connection, today is Armin (Quark from "Deep Space Nine) Shimerman's birthday.

Woo-hoo! Birthday candles all around.

I swear, you could waste hours playing around with the "On This Day" function at IMDB. Plug in your birthday and see who you share a special day with.

For example, I have the same birthday as Ryan ("I'm still not Bryan Adams, and I'm getting really tired of smart-ass people making jokes all the time, especially when it leads to an entirely too long parenthetical note") Adams. What are the odds?

National Novel Writing Month progress

Well, it's only a few days into it, and I'm already behind. Meh.

Of course, there were some other minor details that were throwing the old monkey-wrench into the works, but I think I'm back on track.

Here's the first line of the story:

"And he says, 'Lad, I don't know where you've been, but I see you won first prize.'"

And no, I'm not explaining the context in which it's used. Maybe later.

A knight out on the town

We took my son, Brody, trick-or-treating the other night. We took him last year, but he was only a year old, so he wasn't much of a participant. He just tried to walk into people's houses and even gave hugs to a few people.

But now, he's a year older, and a little more prepared for trick-or-treating. I'd been working with him on exactly how the process worked.

"Okay, you ring the doorbell, and when the person answers the door, you say 'trick or treat.'" Can you say 'trick or treat'?"

"Yes."

"Well, let's hear it."

Nothing.

"And after they give you the candy, what do you say?"

"Thank you."

"Good job. That's using your manners." I'm trying to teach him to use good manners, which is akin to Mike Tyson teaching ballroom dancing.

So when the time came, we got him into his knight costume and gave him my wife's old jack o'lantern bucket to carry his Halloween booty in.

"Go outside?"

"Yep, we're going outside to go trick-or-treating. Can you say 'trick or treat'?"

"Yes."

"Well, let's go. Remember to say thank you when you get some candy."

"Thank you."

So we got to the first house and rang the doorbell. (Brody's still a little too short to handle that on his own.) The door opened, and Brody stood there quietly.

"Brody, what do you say?" my wife asked, hoping to prod him into saying "trick or treat."

Without hesitation, he answered "Please!"

Close enough.

Candy dropped into his bucket.

"Brody, what do you say?" I figured at least he'd nail this part, and he'd look very well-mannered.

"Bye!"

He says thank you every time I hand him one of his cars or give him some Goldfish crackers, but when he gets candy from strangers, all he says is "Bye."

He didn't get fussy during our brief trek; in fact, it was only near th end that he asked us to hold his bucket for him ("Heavy," he explained).

He still seemed a little eager to just walk right in to people's houses, especially the one answered by a young woman with glasses. He just stood there smiling after he got his candy.

He has a thing for brunettes with glasses.

And Rachael Ray, even though she doesn't wear glasses.

We ended up going to about a dozen or so houses and came home with a pretty good haul. Brody, being the generous soul he is, let old Mom and Dad have at the candy after he was done counting it.

The fact that he doesn't like candy didn't have anything to do with it, I'm sure.

McRib, for your pleasure

From now until Nov. 20, you can catch the McRib on its farewell tour at local McDonald'ses (pesky plurals!). They've got a swell Web site to promote the sandwich, which for some ungodly reason, has a fan following.

No, not a big McRib fan. But if you are, you can download some cool designs for farewell tour T-shirts if you want.

Why so much effort goes into preserving the McRib and not bringing back Hostess Pudding Pies, I'll never know.

Jeff's Last-Minute Halloween Costume Ideas

Get two tall, white garbage bags. Cut armholes (and headhole) in one, legholes in the other. Fill excess space with newspapers.

Voila! You are white trash.

---

Stuck with a headless gorilla costume? Don't fret -- just get an old-school diving helmet, and you can be Ro-Man, the titular villain from "Robot Monster."

---

I worked at a bookstore years ago and was stuck working on Halloween. I borrowed my brother's Darth Vader helmet and wore it with my regular shirt and tie (yes, and pants, too, sickos...). I even made myself a nametag that said "Darth."

---

You can never go wrong with a grass skirt, especially on Halloween. One year, my brother borrowed my grass skirt and one of my Hawaiian shirts and donned his George H.W. Bush mask. Tres popular.

---

I made a smiley-face mask (sewed it myself, even) and wore my brother's old Grim Reaper costume. If anyone asks what you are, tell them you're the Ghost of Wal-Mart Future.

"Watch out ... for falling prices..."

---

Put a paper grocery bag over your head (cut eyeholes in it first, of course). You can tell everyone you're the Unknown Comic. When they say "Who?", you can regale them with your extensive knowledge of the Unknown Comic's career.

---

If you're a fan of Katamari Damacy, wrap yourself up with double-stick tape and attach random items (even people, if you can manage). I bet someone has tried this, so let me see if I can find a picture on the Internet. Hang on a sec, okay?

...

Hmm. No luck so far. Well, you should look like the giant ball in the middle of this picture:



And if you hang around someone who has this costume, you'll have a ball.

Ball, get it?

Yok! Yok!

Okay, moving on...

---

Get a vampire cape and fangs, but make your hair look messy and wear the goofiest looking clothes you can find. Behold, Count Dorkula!

---

Close your eyes. You are now the Invisible Man. This works for my son, as far as he knows.

---

Remember, if you use these ideas, I expect a cut of your Halloween candy.

Gonna sit right down and write me a book

National Novel Writing Month approacheth.

This is a cool project in which the goal is to have finished a 50,000-word novel by midnight, Nov. 30.

This year, I am a participant. I like that the thrust of the project is completion. It doesn't have to be 50,000 of the best writing ever. You just have to finish. It can be 50,000 words of crap, really.

I've been writing on and off since I was about 8 or 9, but I didn't get serious about it until high school.

It wasn't uncommon for me to get home from school and knock out 15 pages. I didn't have anything like a car or a social life to slow me down.

In college, I took a few creative writing courses, just to make sure I kept up with the writing. While I was in one class, I got published in a small magazine with my very first submission. I only submitted it go get extra credit in the class. In another class, I met my wife.

So even if I never wrote after that, I think I got a good deal.

But when I worked at my first newspaper, I weaseled my way in to writing a weekly humor column, which was a lot of fun. And now I'm doing pretty much the same this with this blog for where I work now.

The thing that surprises me the most is that, despite what everyone says, humor writers are not the groupie magnets they're made out to be.

True story.

I'm hoping the NaNoWriMo project will help me motivate myself to not get bogged down with the pre-writing process. If I spent half as much time actually writing as I did getting ready to write, I'd be telling this to Oprah when she picks my book for her book club.

So wish me luck, and I'll let you know how it's going.

Camp Cucamonga ... oh yeah, oh yeah ...

You know, I should've been smart and just stuck to the plan. It's time for another installment of Bad Movies A to Z! Today's movie is sponsored by the letter C. Originally, I was going to review "Colossus: The Forbin Project." I put it in my Netflix queue and actually watched it.

Alas, it was a pretty good movie. Not a long of bang-pow-boot-to-the-head action, but a nice, thoughtful sci-fi flick. Kinda reminded me of "The Andromeda Strain" in tone.

Well, it's a lot harder to bust on a movie when it has more than one redeeming quality.

So I went to the Siftin' Movie Archive to find another suitable title. The Child? No. Challenge of the Superfriends? Too long.

And so today's movie is the 1990 TV-movie classic, "Camp Cucamonga."

God help us all.

Today's movie in a nutshell: Kids go to a summer camp and do things that kids do at summer camp when they are on TV.

The story: None.

Just kidding! "Col. Marv" Schecter (John Ratzenberger, who gets top billing in this movie) begins his first year as head of Camp Cucamonga. It's his dream to run a summer camp. In the off season, he's an accountant.

As the film begins, the campers are on their way to camp. I think I saw another bus, but it doesn't matter, because we're focusing on the one driven by a young Jennifer Aniston. While she's driving, we're introduced to our campers, who, in lieu of personalities, are given stereotypical personality traits.

It's like they took the characters from "Saved By the Bell," threw them in a blender and put the pieces back together. So while you have Max Plotkin ("The Wonder Years"' Josh Saviano), an Screech retread, the other semi-main character, Lindsey Scott (Danica McKellar, also of "The Wonder Years"), is a tough metalhead whose parents are getting divorced. No SBTB connection there, you're thinking.

Ah, but what about that weird half-season of their senior year when tough-chick Tori (she of the perpetual leather jacket) transferred to Bayside?

No, I didn't watch the show. I don't know what you're talking about.

Stop looking at me like that.

Anyhow, we're introduced to them in short order, and it really doesn't matter what they're like, because the whole novelty of the movie is that it is populated by your favorite TV stars.

They used to do this once a year or so -- just lump together a bunch of people from different shows on different networks and put them in an innocuous piece of fluff.

Sort of like "Love Boat."

They're actually more interesting to watch now, just for the "before they were famous" factor. When I saw "Friends" for the first time, I recognized Jennifer Aniston as "that cute chick from 'Camp Cucamonga' who wasn't Winnie Cooper."

Meanwhile, Camp Cucamonga's handyman (who also showed up as a teacher on "Saved By the Bell") and Col. Marv have a spat, and the handyman walks, even though there are plenty of repairs that need to be done.

You see, the camp is due to be inspected to earn its accreditation and stuff needs to be fixed before the inspector shows up.

I know you're not supposed to think with movies like this, but even when this was first on, I wondered why the repairs weren't already finished before camp started. And it gets worse later.

Col. Marv calls another handyman to make emergency repairs before the inspection, which will be very soon.

The campers get set up, and there's the "meet cute" between Roger (Brian Robbins, "Head of the Class"), a cocky counselor, and Ava (Jennifer Aniston, who was on NBC's "Ferris Bueller" show). I wasn't about to stop the tape and rewind it enough times to transcribe this perfectly, but you know how it goes:

Col. Marv greets the campers and looks like a doofus.

Roger: Who is this doofus?

Ava: My father.

Wah-wah-wahhhhh!

In the cabins, Max is the outcast of his bunk, and Lindsey doesn't get along with her bunkmates, either. Perhaps it's the Motley Crue T-shirt she wears. The unspoken leader of the girls bunk, Amber (Candace Cameron, "Full House") is going out with Frankie (Chad Allen, "Our House"), the golden boy in Max's cabin. Jennifer (Tasha Scott, "Snoops") seems interested in Dennis (Jaleel White, Urkel himself).

Everybody else is there to take up space.

Max tries very hard to befriend Lindsey, but she wants to go back home ASAP. Her parents are getting a divorce, and she feels like she's being punished by being sent to camp.

Meanwhile in the B-plot, Col. Marv is awaiting both the inspector and the handyman. He's pissed that the handyman isn't there yet.

Up drives Herbert Himmel. He's wearing a suit because he just got back from a wedding. So when he finds Col. Marv, Col. Marv assumes that he's the inspector.

I don't know about you, but when I hire someone, I try to get their name. Failing that, I at least find out who they are. But not at Camp Cucamonga. Their dialogue is tailored so that neither will discover this case of mistaken identity.

Col. Marv proceeds with some butt-kissing, trying to delay the "inspector" from finding the stuff that needs repairs.

There are some dumb camp hi-jinks that at least get a few points for trying (sneaking a camera into the girls' shower, etc.), but they only take up as much time as the story demands.

Roger is trying to impress Ava, but she thinks he's a jerk.

To condense a little, the inspector shows up. But he looks a little scruffy because his car broke down. Col. Marv, thinking he's the tardy handyman, admonishes him and tells him to get to work without asking who he is. Col. Marv has to be this dumb; otherwise the plot wouldn't move forward and there'd be no false sense of drama.

My biggest problem with this movie at this point was that I was sitting with my leg folded underneath me, so when I got up to get something to drink, both my leg and half of my butt had fallen asleep.

But enough about me.

SOme of the guys sneak off with some girls to enjoy a private meal -- steaks stolen from Col. Marv's kitchen. Max insists on tagging along because he supposedly knows how to cook them. He gets Lindsey to go with him. He burns the steaks into oblivion and gets everyone lost to boot.

After a big search, they're found by Col. Marv. When they get back to camp, the inspector reveals his true identity, and the camp's future is in danger, as is the health of real handyman, who has been enjoying the treatment he's been getting.

The kids feel a little responsible and, at Roger's suggestion, decide to contact the head of the inspection agency. The letters are getting nowhere until Lindsey comes up with what is probably the best idea ever: a rap video.

No sooner said than done. Dennis and Jennifer handle the main chores of the Camp Cucamonga rap, which sounds ripped off of inspired by "Bust a Move" by Young MC.

I hope that someday Jennifer Aniston develops a cure for cancer or something equally important, because I want a clip from this video to accompany all the news stories.

She doesn't have to sing, but she's in there, busting a move.

Well, the inspector loves the video and decides to give the camp one more chance. Yay! Lindsey is getting more popular with Frankie, and that bothers Amber, who reveals to the girls in the cabin that Lindsey has been sending letters to herself to make it appear that she'd been getting mail from home.

Except when she reads the letter, it's really from Lindsey's mom. Her parents are really getting a divorce.

Wah-wah-wahhhhh...

She bolts for the bus stop the day the two bunks are supposed to compete together in the last event of the Battle of the Bunks. If they win the baseball game, they win the whole battle. Decisions, decisions...

Leaving only a few people to play baseball, the main group goes after Lindsey. When Ava and Roger find out they're all gone, their plans are interrupted by the sudden appearance of Lindsey's mom, who arrives unannounced. They find her right before she gets on the bus and convince her to stay.

Our heroes return just in time for the very end of the game. Their team is down by quite a bit, but through hard work, determination and predictable writing, they win.

Huzzah!

Max, who hit the winning run, is now Mr. Popular. He tells Lindsey that they can't go steady anymore (even though they weren't anyway), and she humors him. Amber and Frankie also go their separate ways.

I go to the pantry for a snack, but nothing looks good. By the time I get back, the credits are rolling. I hope I didn't miss anything. I doubt it.

Afterthoughts: I don't know that I would invite people over especially to watch this, but it's better than some stuff I've watched (or bought deliberately).

In particular, Jennifer Aniston does fairly well. Aside from appearing in the Camp Cucamonga rap video, she doesn't embarrass herself. Everyone else does okay, too. As best they could with what they had, I guess.

This has been released on DVD, but I watched it on the old-school VHS copy we scored back in the day at Wal-Mart for like $4.88 or something.

I'm a little curious to see another one of these all-star TV-movies. I can remember three off the top of my head: "High School USA," with Michael J. Fox and Nancy McKeon; "Murder Can Hurt You," a detective spoof with Gavin McLeod and Tony Danza (who doesn't play a guy named Tony for a change -- this time, it's Pony. No kidding.); and "Crash Course," with Alyssa Milano and Tina Yothers. I'm sure they're out there somewhere. Heck, I think I taped "High School USA."

I'll have to look for it in the archives.

Well, that's it for C. Join me again next time (hopefully this year) for Bad Movies A to Z.

But, I'm funny how? Funny like a clown? I amuse you?

Old clowns never die, they just leave greasepaint on your bumper.

-- Jeff Sparkman

Like some people, I do not like clowns.

Not because they wear strange clothes, and not because they are staggeringly unfunny. In fact, there are quite talented clowns out there who have a strong dedication to their craft.

Why do clowns bug me? Because they think they have the power to force you to smile or appear happy. If you don't laugh at a clown, this somehow makes you a humorless ogre.

Maybe I don't want to smile. Did that occur to you, Mr. Clown? I bear you no ill will. Just let me maintain my non-smiling demeanor until such time that merriment is appropriate.

What if the police used armies of clowns as behavior-modification forces?

"They're rioting down at City Hall!"

"You know what to do, Clancy. Send in the clowns."

Must-See TV (no, for real)

All right, cats and kittens, mark this down on your calendar. This Wednesday, AMC's MonsterFest offerings include a showing of "The Devil's Rain." It's at 6:45 a.m., but you could always record it and watch it later.

How could you not like a movie that has this kind of a tagline: "Heaven help us all when The Devil's Rain!"

No, I'm not mistyping that. Look for yourself.My head just about exploded when I tried to figure out what they thought they were saying. I suppose you could think of it as a play on words that works when you say it out loud, but even that's being generous.

I presume they mean "Heaven help us all when the devils reign," but there's a real easy way to do that.

Spell it right.

Aw, but then it doesn't match the title of the movie.

How about "Look, up in the sky! It's a bird! It's a plane! It's The Devil's Rain!" or "Don't let your soul get dampened by The Devil's Rain!"

Or they could change the name of the movie.

But The Devil's Rain refers to a container in which people's souls are kept.

Well, now I'm getting ahead of myself.

Ernest Borgnine is devil worshipper Jonathan Corbis. He wants a book that has names of people who sold their souls to the devil. The Preston family has been keeping that book safe for a kajillion or so years, which is why Corbis has it in for them.

This movie is interesting in a weird kind of way. It's not train-wreck bad, but it's not a really good flick, either. I think the thing that is most unsettling about it (and is probably its best quality) is its off-kilter feel.

During the whole movie, things just seemed like they were a little off. I really don't know why. It's a lot quieter than you'd expect it to be, and people don't always react the way you'd think.

For example, at the beginning, Mark Preston (my boy William Shatner) and his mother (Ida Lupino) are worried that Mark's father is missing. Right on cue, the elder Preston shows up, and right off the bat, you can see that something's not right.

For starters, he's a little melty. His skin looks like someone dumped a couple of Yoplaits on his head on a summer day. How he managed to get home, I don't know, as he sports empty-looking eye sockets. He warns his family about who did this to him, a man named Corbis, and he melts away, saying "What a world, what a world."

Or something like that.

Now, I don't know about you, but if one of my family members shows up and melts if front of me, I'd be a little upset.

But not Mark Preston. With Shatner playing this guy, you'd think there would be some kind of emotional reaction. Okay, maybe not him shaking in anger before bellowing "KHAAAAAAAAAAAAN!" (Sound on that link, btw.), but a little something. Nope.

Another unsettling thing about this movie, and I think this works against it a little, is that there isn't a main protagonist to focus on. At first, you think Mark Preston is the main guy, but then we meet his brother, who the story follows as well. It seems a little distracted. This is exacerbated by the casting.

Don't get me wrong; it's an impressive cast. Besides Shatner and Lupino, there's also Eddie Albert, Tom Skerritt and Ernest Borgnine. Oh, and John Travolta, but you'd never know it's him if you weren't looking.

Often in horror movies, the "name" actor is your main character, with lesser-known supporting players. Ideally, it's because the name actor is the best suited for the role, but failing that, it helps the viewer keep track of the action because they know who he is.

How many times have you seen a horror movie with a bunch of unknowns and you weren't always sure what was going on? Even when you're paying attention, it's not always easy -- characterization isn't always a big component in horror flicks.

But here, almost all of the main characters are familiar faces.

Oh, well, I guess that means you just have to pay more attention. The running time goes by pretty quickly if quietly. The ghost town setting helps with the creepy feel.

This movie is known for its big ending. They even hype it on the DVD cover.

They still didn't fix the grammar, but that's the way it goes, I guess.

There are two things about the ending that are notable, but the primary one is a mass melting in which a bunch of people melt into puddles of goo. Why this happens or what happens after that, I won't tell you, but it's an interesting looking effect.

It makes me wonder if that effect is what the movie was built around. The Incredible Melting Man seems to have been made around similar but even more disgusting melting flesh effects.

To make a long story short (too late), this is a pretty decent watch. Check it out, preferably in a dark room with a few friends and a bowl of popcorn.

If there's a gazebo with a giant cheeseburger on it, I want my money back

Oh, dear.

I discovered this potentially horrifying event from the good folks at WFMU's Beware the Blog.

There's a movie in production called Across the Universe.

From the plot summary on IMDB.com (which, for all I know, could be completely bogus):

A romantic musical told mainly through numerous Beatles songs performed by the characters.

I may be overreacting, as I know next to nothing about this. But what else is the Internet for if not bemoaning the poor quality of as-yet-unfinished movies? It could be quite clever and make good use of the Beatles songs.

On the other hand, it could be another "Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band."

A quick description: Peter Frampton and the Bee Gees are the titular musicians in this dialogue-free (except for narration from George Burns) musical. An evil real estate developer steals the magical instruments that keep Heartland happy, and it's up to our heroes to get them back while dealing with skyrocketing to fame.

This, I'm sure, will surprise no one: I like this movie. Have since I was about 5. Not because it's any good. It's astounding, really.

It has something never seen before or since in a movie. I will try to explain this as best I can. Keep in mind that this really happens.

Oh, and should you care about what meager plot development is in this flick, don't read ahead if you want the end spoiled.

Okay, we've got only a few minutes left in the movie, and things are looking pretty grim. The band reclaimed the instruments, but after a (ahem) spectacular battle between SPLHCB (man, if you think I'm typing Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band again, you're crazy) and the Future Villain Band (essayed quite menacingly by Aerosmith; yes, Aerosmith was defeated by Peter Frampton and the Bee Gees), Strawberry Fields, girlfriend of lead singer Billy Shears (Frampton), pays the ultimate price.

But no expense is spared, and Strawberry is laid out in a glass coffin, to which Billy's bandmates sing "Carry That Weight," because, hey, they already used "She's So Heavy" earlier.

And yes, I know the real title is "I Want You (She's So Heavy)," but that would've ruined the joke, and we wouldn't want that, would we?

After the funeral, the bandmates are hanging out and mourning. Poor Billy is quite distraught. In fact, he can't bear to live without his love, so he decides to commit suicide --

-- by jumping from a second story window in his house.

Sure, if he does it right, he can easily die. People have died from lesser falls. But he leaps so that he would land on his back, so I don't know how badly he'd be hurt. But we're not supposed to be thinking about this, because it's very sad and dramatic.

Now as Billy is taking a flying leap, something strange is afoot at City Hall. Atop the building is a magic weather vane shaped like the town's beloved original Sgt. Pepper. It is said that it "would always point the way to happiness."

But there is no happiness in Heartland, so it spins and spins, looking for a direction in which happiness might be found. It spins around so fast that the weather vane is transformed into


Billy Preston in a gold lamé Sgt. Pepper uniform!

OMGWTFBBQ!

He begins to sing "Get Back" and uses his magical powers to first reverse Billy's trajectory.

After that, with a flick of a finger, he changes the major and minor villains' clothes to choirboy, nun, pope and saint (beats me...).

Then, faster than you can say deus ex weather vane, Strawberry is returned to the land of the living and they all live happily ever after.

How do you top that?

Well ...

The magical Pepper's last feat is to transport a gazillion musicians and celebrities to the steps of City Hall for a reprise of the title song.

All of this, I guess, is a really long way of saying that this new movie would have to try reeeeeeeeally hard to be the weirdest Beatle-related/based movie.

Don't forget, there's also the earlier "All This and World War II," in which covers of Beatles songs are paired with World War II news footage.

Discuss.

Sadly, this movie was released shortly after my second birthday, and I've never seen it on video, so I can't say authoritatively that it sucks like a Hoover with a hemi.

But I could probably hazard a guess...

Gettin' higgly wit' it

If I'm wrong, I'm sure someone will correct me, but Higglytown Heroes has been on for quite a while, and I have yet to see HH nesting dolls.

How were these not on the shelves the minute the show premiered?

And while we're at it with the whole predicting the future thing ...

Not specifically a comic book (although there were a number of them), Star Trek IV required the use of transparent aluminum for the crew's voyage home and had to settle for thick Plexiglas. Now it turns out that if they'd gone back to 2005 instead of 1986, they'd have had a chance to get transparent aluminum.

Go figure.

(via Monitor Duty)

Comics predict the future again?

I saw this last night when I was checking my e-mail, but it's also a front-page story in today's paper.

Apparently, they've found a lost airman from World War II encased in a glacier in Kings Canyon National Park.

Over 40 years ago, in the pages of The Avengers #4, the legendary Captain America was discovered preserved in a block of ice.

Now, if I discover a baby in a rocket that crashes in my backyard, I'm going to be worried.

Comics predict the future

Here we see that the folks at DC Comics predicted the crappy screennames we'd be forced to take about two decades before the advent of America Online.

Amazing.

Smile, America

One of the things I like about being a dad is sharing things from my childhood with my son.

My brother and I took Brody to Chuck E. Cheese's last week.

I hadn't been to one in a long time. Chuck E. Cheese's Pizza Time Theatre was, at one point in my youth, the place to go for birthday celebrations. If you were lucky, you might go there and the roller rink.

It was one of the first places I'd been to that was so geared for kids. Yeah, there were playgrounds at McDonald's and stuff like that, but this was a restaurant, arcade and show all rolled up in one place.

The first time I went to Las Vegas, it was Chuck E. Cheese that it reminded me of: lots of attention-getting machines, food and beverage as a secondary draw, often cheesy entertainment and artificial lighting that made it seem like night no matter what the real time was.

I remember walking in through the kid-sized door out front and being almost assaulted by the sights and sounds: the clinking of tokens in receptacles, children shouting in excitement and the k-thunk-thunk-thunk of the wooden balls dropping at the skee ball lanes.

And if you timed it right, you might've caught part of the show. In fact, the show often sounded better from a distance; up close, the movement of the giant Teddy Ruxpin-like players was louder than the songs they were ostensibly performing.

All the CECs I visited were dimly lit almost to the point of being murky and dank, especially the arcade area.

Instead of blaming MTV or video games for my sometimes short attention span, I blame the Pizza Time Theatre. Birthday parties were particularly chaotic. First, you have a pack of children in close proximity to presents, which is enough of a distraction. Then, while the birthday kid is opening his presents, he's interrupted by the sporadic performances of the Pizza Time Players.

One minute, you're watching the unveiling of a G.I. Joe Dragonfly Assault Helicopter (with pilot Wild Bill), and then it's a giant rat singing a bad parody of a Beach Boys song. And, oh, the pizza's ready. This pitcher is Coke, and this one's root beer, and...

And if you ever wanted to see a land speed record, you should've seen us bolt from the table once the game tokens were distributed. You didn't want to have to wait to play Star Wars or Crystal Castles. Or maybe you wanted the skee ball lane with the sweet spot that made it easier to land the ball in the 50-point hole.

My visits to Chuck E. Cheese were mostly birthday-related (although we once went to competitor Showbiz Pizza for my birthday, which was like getting Loc Blocs instead of Legos), but we ended up living very close to one when I was in fifth grade.

That was the CEC that hosted my eighth-grade graduation dinner (relatively eventless except for a kid who had to go to the hospital for some reason near the end of the night). By this time, though, the luster was just about gone.

All the hard kids would hang out in the little mouseholes in the arcade to cop a smoke or make out. Pretty soon, the mouseholes were blocked by new (well, new to the arcade) video games.

A few years after that, we avoided going there, as there wasn't much to you could do. The skee ball games were dominated by unattended youngsters who, apparently lacking sufficient skee ball skills, decided to just walk up the ramp and deposit the balls in the 50-point spots. The games that we'd enjoyed playing years before were still there; some of the monitors were etched permanently from years of play.

A couple of friends of mine worked there in high school. They told me what horrors they faced having to dress up in the "rat suit" for parties. Kids yanked the tail off regularly or punched Chuck in the, uh, cheese wheels.

Once, after they'd closed, they sewed the tail back on the costume -- in the front -- and did a dance routine that would've been a hit at someone's birthday party.

So when we went to the local CEC, I really didn't know what to expect.

We walked in, and instead of having to adjust to the darkness, I had to adjust to the light. It was bright and friendly, and the layout wasn't as segmented as it used to be. There was seating surrounding the game area.

And by game area, I'm referring mostly to the redemption games, which outnumber the video games by a hefty margin.

We all got our hands stamped as we were let in. I was almost half expecting to be issued a Red Party Cup™, but I didn't see any.

There was another seating area that was the main showroom, and that's where we sat. When the show started and Chuck and friends started jerking around to the music, Brody smiled.

We weren't sitting right up front, so we heard more of the music that the whirring and clicking of the musicbots.

It wasn't the same kind of show I watched so many times as a kid -- there were no waving flags on the walls, and the lights didn't dim -- but Brody seemed to enjoy it.

The one part that killed me was when the band decided to perform "a song from the 80s," making it sound as though it was an ancient era. The song was "Forever Your Girl," by Paula Abdul. I think I was in high school when that one came out.

After the pizza, we hit the floor for entertainment. Brody is not a big fan of rides so far. Even the one that looked like a dump truck or a grader was not something he wanted to be near.

He liked skee ball and a few of the other redemption games; he would hand me the balls and I'd roll them up the ramp. He would smile if I made a good shot.

There was no visit from the big rat, which I guess was good; I don't know how that would go over.

Above everything else, he liked the toy truck that we cashed in our tickets for. He's been playing with it nonstop since he got it.

I asked him when we left, "Brody, did you have fun?"

He held out his truck.

"Truck! Vrooom!" he beamed.

That was good enough for me.

He didn't get a fair shake

In DC Comics' Identity Crisis by Brad Meltzer, we found out that members of the Justice League of America used unorthodox methods when dealing with some super-villains.

It made me wonder if things like that happened to other things from my youth.

And then I thought of McDonaldland.

You don't see much of it anymore, but it used to be that we got regular 30- to 60-second peeks into this strange land. I remembered watching them and even playing with the McDonaldland playset, complete with train.

But having seen some original McDonaldland commercials in recent years, I made a somewhat disturbing discovery.

Grimace, Ronald's number-two, uh, guy, wasn't always among the good forces of McDonaldland. He started off as The Evil Grimace. Not only that, but he used to have four arms.

Crime used to be more prevalent in this realm. You had The Evil Grimace, who went around stealing milkshakes, there's the Hamburglar, who (duh) stole hamburgers. The Fry Guys (originally the Gobble-ins) would pilfer your french fries if you didn't keep your eyes on them, and Captain Crook was a pirate who couldn't resist Filet O'Fish sandwiches.

I'll give Captain Crook a pass, because anyone who reduces the probablility of me encountering a Filet O'Fish is all right in my book.

Big Mac the cop clearly had his hands full, and I'm assuming Ronald, as high potentate of the land, pressured him to clean up all this potential crime. But I suspect that Big Mac wasn't really that good of an officer. I get the feeling that he got his job because of his close relationship (brothers? cousins?) to Mayor McCheese.

McCheese was probably hassling Big Mac quite a bit, too, you know, like "I got you this job, so you better make it look like you're at least trying."

But what was he to do?

Captain Crook could always escape to the high seas. The Fry Guys had strength in numbers. You took out a few, more would rise to take their place.

And the Hamburglar was just too crafty.

That left The Evil Grimace. This isn't much of a surprise, because I noticed that, even as an evil creature, Grimace didn't seem all that bright.

This is how I think it might have happened:

Facing pressure from both Ronald and Mayor McCheese, Big Mac sets his sights on The Evil Grimace. He seeks out the services of The Professor.

"Professor, I need your help."

"Always glad to help, Big Mac. What can I do for you?"

"It's The Evil Grimace. I need to stop him. Kill him if necessary."

"Nothing can kill the Grimace."

So they devise a plan. They go to The Evil Grimace's cave while he's asleep. The plan goes awry when Grimace wakes up and goes on a rampage. Big Mac relies on his training and disarms Grimace. Twice.

While Grimace bellows at the loss of two of his arms, The Professor sneaks behind him and drops a brainwave inhibitor helmet on the purple blob. As soon as Grimace is under, The Professor brainwashes him, removing his tendencies for evil. Alas, this diminishes Grimace's already limited faculties, making him into the goofball we know him as today.

Once the process is complete, they fabricate an elaborate tale that cements Big Mac's status as the top cop in McDonaldland. The Professor doesn't say what really happened, and in exchange, Big Mac looks the other way when it comes to The Professor's "experiments."

Everyone is happy, and crime is reduced in McDonaldland. Eventually, Captain Crook is seen less frequently, and the Hamburglar becomes less interested in Grand Theft Burger and more interested with gaining a more youthful appearance.

And nobody even wonders about the missing souls from the neighboring Burger Kingdom: Sir Shakes-A-Lot, The Duke of Doubt, and poor Burger Thing.

Okay, time for lunch...

'Worlds will live. Worlds will die.'

DC Comics is preparing to unleash "Infinite Crisis" on comic shops everywhere. You can get a spoiler-filled synopsis of the events leading up to this huge event here.

Twenty years ago, DC decided to clean house with the 12-issue maxi-series, "Crisis on Infinite Earths." The tagline for it was "Worlds will live. Worlds will die. And the universe will never be the same again."

When the series debuted, I was 10, and was just really getting to be a die-hard comic book nut. I learned of the series in a promo book they put out, DC Sampler. It was basically a collection of one- and two-page house ads designed to spotlight what was coming up. This particular sampler had cool cover art by the always-cool Fred Hembeck.

In the ad, it was called "Universe: Crisis on Infinite Earths." I remember thinking, man, I've got to look for that.

As it is, I picked up Crisis #1 at 7-Eleven as part of a two-pack. I don't know if it was like that at other 7-Elevens, but at mine, most of the comics were bundled in pairs, and they weren't similar titles. I think the other comic in the pack was a Fantastic Four, but I'm not sure.

As this is a 20-year-old comic, I'm not worried about revealing plot points. But just in case, spoilers ahoy...

In only the first few pages, a group of villains called The Crime Syndicate are killed by a rampaging wall of anti-matter. Their Earth, their entire universe are wiped out.

Man oh man, this was good stuff.

For those of you who aren't comic book fans, I'll try to explain this as best I can.

DC Comics used to have a system of sorts that corresponded with their various heroes. Keep in mind they'd been publishing superhero comics for about 50 years by this time and had quite a stable.

Some of the heroes from the Golden Age didn't make it through the 1950s when comic books were accused of promoting juvenile deliquency, among other things. Superman, Batman and Wonder Woman made it through okay, but Flash, Green Lantern, Hawkman and others didn't.

Instead, new heroes with the same names were introduced. Eventually, the Golden Age heroes were revived. Turns out they didn't disappear; they were on a parallel earth. Our Flash, whose secret identity was Barry Allen, met up with Jay Garrick, the original Flash from the 40s. Jay was the Flash on what Barry called Earth-2 for matters of simplicity.

What started as a neat idea in an issue of the Flash snowballed into a huge, sprawling multiverse complete with numerous parallel worlds with duplicate versions of heroes.

Earth-1 was the "main" Earth. That's where current issues of our favorite DC comics were happening.

Earth-2 featured all the World War II-era heroes, including an older Superman, Batman, etc. As they began their careers in the 40s, they were about a generation older than the Earth-1 heroes. As time went on, this gap got a little wider.

Earth-3 was a version of Earth in which there were no superheroes (initially), but a group supervillains -- The Crime Syndicate, who bit the dust in the first few pages of Crisis #1. History was also skewed; actor Abraham Lincoln shot President John Wilkes Booth, and I think England declared independence from America.

There were also Earths X and S, and a whole lot of others.

To add to the potential confusion, there were tons of different stories that featured future events, and they didn't all match. For example, Superman, when he was Superboy, was a member of the Legion of Super-Heroes. The Legion took place in the 30th century.

But then Superman had also met Kamandi, the Last Boy on Earth, who lived on a post-apocalyptic Earth. Was Kamandi from another parallel Earth or was the Legion?

DC said that this was confusing to new readers and was part of the reason behind Crisis.

Now, speaking as someone who was a new reader then (and, keep in mind I was 10, which I believe was their target demographic at the time), I can say that I had no problem keeping up with it.

I actually liked the different Earths, and if I read two stories that contradicted each other, I just kinda picked which one I liked better. If it really got to be a point of contention (if I'd gotten in conversations with friends who also liked comics), I could come up with a way around the problem.

As cool as that first issue was, I didn't pick up another issue until #7. While I went to the comic book store fairly regularly, I still bought the bulk of my comics from Waldenbooks or drugstores.

I was standing at the spinner rack, skimming the comic when I saw what happened near the end: Superman's cousin, Supergirl, died. I was shocked.

(Yes, I know there've been like a jillion Supergirls since then. Don't make me explain it.)

I made a point to get the rest of the series. It was exciting because I didn't know what else was going to happen. Who else was going to die?

And then in the last issue, it was a huge battle starring just about every DC superhero I'd ever seen, plus a metric buttload of ones I hadn't seen.

I picked up that last issue during a field trip to the library. During our lunch break, I traipsed down to the comic shop and snagged it with part of what I was supposed to use for lunch. (Sorry, Mom.)

I can still remember sitting downstairs in the children's library to avoid being spotted by my teacher. I read it in only a few minutes, trying to absorb every detail, noting deaths and rebirths.

Crisis remains one of my favorite comic series, and I'm interested in this new Crisis, just to see what's going on. I've read conflicting rumors of what the series is supposed to accomplish, but I'm still a little curious.

With all the crossovers and preludes, it's already a Crisis on a Finite Wallet.