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.

Hair apparent

I remember looking at my parents' yearbooks, making fun of the doofy fashions. At least people won't make fun of what my generation was wearing, I thought. All the styles looked fairly respectable.

So then I was looking through my yearbooks and realized that, like a fine wine, heinous fashion needs time to mature.

Granted there are trends and fads that seem perfectly logical at the time, only to see years later that, well, maybe that wasn't the case.

I'm thinking of Union Bay jackets, pinning the legs of your jeans and multiple Swatches.

Then there are things that seemed a little odd even at the time and are practically incomprehensible any time after that.

Case in point:

What the hell were we thinking?

Sure, I like Batman as much as the next guy, but I'm not going to have his symbol carved and dyed on the back of my head.

Of course, they could reflect the Bat-signal off the back of my head these days, but that's not the point.

About the only benefit to this that I could think of is that it would eventually grow out.

Oh yeah, and hats. Hats would help, too.

I'm trying to remember what other things guys got carved in their hair, but I can't think of any.

The period between 1985-1992 was just not a very fashionable time. Cough-cough-mullet-cough-cough.

I was only spared a little because I wasn't fashionable then, either. I've always thought that I cultivated the classic, timeless dork look.

Just ask my wife.

And yes, that's a Garfield shirt. I forgot it was picture day.

I think out of all the years I got school pictures taken, I was actually prepared once.

In kindergarten.

Making money where in your what?

While flipping through channels the other day, I caught part of an infomercial called (taking deep breath) "Making Money Quick and Easy at Your Kitchen Table in Your Underwear."

Apparently, it's to promote this program from I-guess-I'm-supposed-to-know-who-he-is-rich-guy Jeff Paul.

I didn't watch after I heard the name, but I looked up the Web site to find the name (which is different, depending on where you look) and I saw that there's a link called "Jeff Paul Exposed," which is perhaps a bad idea when promoting something that refers to working in your skivvies.

Just a thought.

Never reaching the end

We can send a man to the moon, but science can't prevent Noodle-Roni's Shells & White Cheddar from reminding me of "Nights in White Satin."

If that song is now stuck in your head, I'm sorry.

At least it's not "It's a Small World."

...

Oh, great.

Roam if you want to

I read this morning that TV personality Nipsey Russell had died.

Nipsey, by the way, is one more baby name idea of mine that got shot down.

My exposure to Nipsey came primarily from watching him on the panel on "Match Game." The last thing I remember seeing him in was the Goldie Hawn comedy "Wildcats," in which he played a high school principal.

He seemed like an awfully nice guy; how could you not like someone who had the mad rhyming skills he did?

Years ago, I read one of those compilations of misheard song lyrics. Someone, somehow, heard this lyric from the B-52s song "Roam" -- "Roam if you want to" -- as "Whoa, Nipsey Russell."

So now, that's all I hear when that song comes on. Now you will, too.

---

I also learned from the ever-interesting Mark Evanier that Hamilton Camp died as well. It was only a week or so ago I mentioned that he was in two of the shortest-lived shows on television.

At least it's shorter than "Hit Me in the Head With the Dodgeball"

I really should've done this yesterday, but I was trying to keep up with my son Brody, who, because he is 2, has more potential energy than a truckload of Red Bull.

Nicolas Cage and his wife welcomed their son to the world Monday. His name is Kal-el Coppola Cage.

Yes, he shares Superman's birth name. If I may geek out for a sec, I've seen it spelled in most news stories with a lower-case "e" rather than the usual upper-case. However, to be entirely accurate, Superman's name was originally given as Kal-L. It wasn't until the 1942 George Lowther novel "Superman" that it was changed to Kal-el with a lower-case "e." Eventually in the comics, it became Kal-El, and that's how it's been ever since.

I don't know if it's still the case, but at one point, Kal-El was said to be Kryptonese for "star child."

I'm just wondering how he talked his wife into going along with the name. When the topic of names came up when Jen was pregnant, I said I had a few ideas.

"Well, we're not naming him 'Kal-El' or anything like that," she informed me. I hadn't actually planned on doing so, but I was impressed that she knew what Superman's real name was.

I was shooting for Zod. Zod Sparkman -- tell me that's not cool.

Dream a little dream

I used to hate sleeping. I was never that good at it. But as I've gotten older, a good night's sleep looks better and better all the time.

Lately, there's been a bonus: In my dreams, I see my son Harry.

It's been over four months since we lost him; he's been gone about twice as long as he was here.

It's weird. Most of the time, I'm fine, but sometimes, it just hits me, you know? I'm one of "those people" who has dealt with losing a child. That's not really the kind of person I associate with me.

Immature, a little too amused by fart jokes, sure. That's me in a nutshell.

The really odd thing about these dreams is that a lot of the time, I don't remember anything specific. I just wake up with the distinct impression of having talked to him.

It's something, I guess.

The few times I've remembered the dreams, Harry is older; probably about 10. No idea why. He still has the thick mop of hair and wears a shirt with Chewbacca on it. He sits on the branch of a large tree, which, now that I'm picturing it, is a willow, I think.

And we just talk. Not about anything important -- just stuff.

I don't have the dreams as often as I'd like, but it gives me a reason to look forward to sleeping every night.

Make the best of the situation

So I'm listening to Yahoo radio, and "Layla" comes on. I looked at the album title.

Yeah, the song's overplayed and all, but isn't that a bit harsh? After all, Eric Clapton is also the guy who gave us "It's In the Way That You Use It" from the soundtrack to "The Color of Money."

Hmm ... maybe not.

What a wookiee!

Man, let's just add one more thing to the list of things Chewbacca has done that I haven't. Kick a guy while he's down, why don't you?

But then again, bloggers don't pull people's arms out of their sockets when they lose. Wookiees are known to do that.

(via Fark)

Dumb idea du jour of the day

Like I've said before, I get lots of things floating through my head. Some, like Jell-O breast implants (safe, moldable, and hey, there's always room for Jell-O), are not such great ideas.

Some are dumb ideas with a spark of novelty. You be the judge.

My idea: a waffle iron with changeable iron plates. Each plate has a maze on it that kids can try to solve by pouring syrup on the path of their choice. To avoid getting too tired of the same maze, there are different mazes on the plates that fit into the iron.

Obvious problems: If you suck at mazes, your waffle is ice cold by the time you're done.

But as a novelty item, who knows?

The name would be something like The A-maze-ing Waffle Maker. One of my super powers is the ability to come up with a catchy if inane name for products.

I saw a commercial for a product called UrineGone. It's supposed to help clean up pet pee incidents, although they make a point to mention that it works for people, too. The announcer says the name of the product at least 30 times in just a minute or two, and each time, the name sounds lamer and lamer.

Instead of UrineGone, isn't PissAway a better name? Not only does it describe the product, but it's also indicative of what you're doing with your money when you buy it.

Hella-ween

Halloween is only a month away, and Jen and I are trying to figure out what Brody should dress up as.

More accurately, I'm looking for something I like that I can talk her into.

Fortunately, as Brody is becoming a rugged he-man, she's not pushing for the cute little pea pod costume. Last year he was a puppy, complete with cute-but-mildly-disturbing dog head/hood.

Much to my surprise, he didn't rip the hood off. He wasn't big on things covering his head then. Now, everything's a hat.

Brody plops a shoe on my head.

"Hat! H!"

The H is because Mr. Man wants to know that I know that he knows his alphabet. As if I could forget. Instead of regular 2-year-old babble, I get to hear "ABCDEFG," etc., all day long.

Not that much of a complaint, really; I mean, he's 2 and he knows the alphabet already. He should be teaching his uncle.

So back to the whole costume thing.

I saw a nifty Batman costume at Target that looked like it would fit him. For his first Halloween, I thought this Spider-Man costume would be cool, but I knew he wouldn't wear the mask. I'm pretty sure they Photoshopped the mask on the kid in the picture.

I don't think it's the right size, but how cool/bizarre is this?

I didn't see this one at the store, but I'd be surprised if there's a kid dragging his parents to the Halloween costumes bellowing "I wanna be Thor!" This one is equally obscure (maybe less, thanks to the Justice League Unlimited cartoon), but at least it's not Thor.

And speaking of odd Halloween costumes, you have to check this out. Just for the Rubik's Cube costume alone.

Target's Web site has some interesting names for the costumes. As if Batman and Robin haven't endured enough gender-related pondering, here's the costume they offer for Batman's sidekick. Robyn? What's this hero's secret identity? Ann Drogynous?

Obviously, they haven't been forced had the privilege of watching The Wiggles. Unless Sword is his last name...

And I'm sorry, but this is just wrong, wrong, wrong.

Professor Jeff's Planet Facts

• Uranus is the seventh planet from the sun.


• Uranus rotates sideways.


• Uranus has rings.


• Uranus has 27 moons.


• The atmosphere on Uranus contains hydrogen, helium, methane, ammonia, ethane, acetylene, carbon monoxide and hydrogen sulfide.

and sadly,

"Careful pronunciation may be necessary to avoid embarrassment; say 'YOOR a nus,' not 'your anus' or 'urine us.'"

Once again, facts get in the way of high comedy.

Modesto hits the big time

Today's Modesto sighting comes to us courtesy of the comic strip Pearls Before Swine by Stephan Pastis.

Lincoln, Lincoln, I've been thinkin', what the heck have I been drinkin?

I scored some new Jones Sodas at Target last week. They are Halloween-themed Target exclusives.

And coolest of all, they're in the little half-size cans.

I have a love-hate relationship with miniature versions of familiar products. On one hand, it's nice to have a smaller portion.

On the other hand, it messes with my sense of perception. I got Ritz Bits in my lunch when they were still a new phenomenon and thought that I had grown to Brobdingnagian proportions. Looking around, I noticed that I was still shorter than my peers and assumed that my new power was only evident when compared to snack crackers.

Plus, I had a lot of cough syrup that morning. But I digress.

The sodas come in four flavors: Candy Corn, Caramel Apple, Strawberry S'Lime and Scary Berry Lemonade.

Being the brave person I am -- plus I wanted to be a giant again -- I bought a four-pack of each and sampled them.

First tip: Make sure they are chilled. Warm soda is no fun, and in the case of Dr Pepper could be dangerous.

I drank a Dr Pepper that had been sitting in the car in the heat and I swear I almost burned my tongue off. Play it safe -- use ice.

Anyway, I tried Candy Corn first. One of the local grocery stores has offered a red licorice soda through their house brand line of sodas. It was actually pretty good, and it tasted remarkably like red licorice. Would Candy Corn live up to my expectations?

Well, yes and no. Thankfully, it wasn't as sweet as it could have been, but it didn't really hit me with the "Oh, this totally tastes like candy corn" realization I was hoping for.

It does taste a bit like candy corn. It has a kind of caramelly overtaste with hints of citrus in the background.

Look at me, I sound like a wine snob.

Caramel Apple was also not as sweet as I had feared and was pretty good. The caramel element was quite light, giving it a taste very close to Jones' Green Apple soda. Still, pretty tasty.

Strawberry S'Lime was OK. I usually get strawberry limeades when I go to Sonic, so I was a little disappointed that this didn't have the same bite I associate with this flavor pairing.

Scary Berry Lemonade was my least favorite. It wasn't particularly scary, I must say, and if not for the Halloween-themed can, wouldn't really stand out very much.

Jones Soda has in the past come up with a turkey-and-gravy flavored soda, so by comparison, these Halloween offerings are quite tame. I'm a little surprised they didn't try pumpkin.

At least now I can say that I drank four cans of soda in only a few minutes.