Separated at Birth?

Of course, the inspiration to Paul Pope's Batman 100 could simply be Disney's Lilo & Stitch.

Whatcha takin' to the curb, there, Prajer?

It has been, by any standard, a wonderful winter for our family -- sunny, healthy, brisk, with an ever-present blanket of snow hiding all the garbage on the lawn. And now with spring in the air, it's all coming to an end. The youngest got stomach flu on Friday, the oldest caught the same bug on Sunday -- along with a touch of strep, methinks. The grown-ups are dealing with something stomachy, too, so we're all going to bed early, and making a point of talking nicely to each other, when we'd rather be whinging and sniping, instead. As for the garbage, well...

Since I can't quite pull my thoughts together for the usual entertainment, I figured I'd just snoop through the contents of my hard-drive's recycling box. Lessee, here...



Not bad! This is one of the first pics I pulled from Google Images. Haven't read the comic in question, but I like how Supe's eyes mimic the Batmobile's headlights. Reproduced here entirely without permission, of course. Run to your local 7-11 and buy a DC comic to make up for my lack of scruples, please.

What else have we? Still on the DC track...

The frame to your right is from Batman Year 100, art and story by Paul Pope. Haven't read it (the one comic book store I straggled into delivered the "I'm sorry sir, but we sold our last copy just minutes ago!" line. Oh, really? Any chance this bag of breakfast churros might change your tune just a bit? (Ah, but you know you're doomed when Comic Book Guy calls you "sir"!)), but I believe the concept is Batman lives to fight crime at the age of 100 or so. Very surreal. I don't hold out much hope for the plot being especially innovative, but the graphics are nice -- they put me in mind of Bill Sienkiewicz's angular Batman with long, swooping ears (to your left, from the cover of Batman 400, 1986. Click to enlarge) -- and any time you tweak a brand-name with a mixture of reverence and nerve, you usually cook up some zesty goulash.

Hmm. There's another picture I'm tempted to pull up from the bin, but I think I'll save it for tomorrow, after the recycling truck has left the vicinity.

Oh, would you look at the time...

See that little "time" posted at the bottom? That indicates when I finally had my fill of the 78th Academy Awards. Didn't take long -- and I like Jon Stewart. Maybe what this Academy needs is Stephen Colbert...

My Easter Difficulties

I have difficulties with Easter. Ash Wednesday hits, and the Lenten weeks leading up to Good Friday and Easter are a torment: mood swings (rage, happiness, sorrow), vivid dreams, headaches and overall gloominess. Stigmata of the psyche, if you will.

I cannot greet Spring with much enthusiasm -- Spring has traditionally been a season of funerals for me. So, yes: the physicality of "Good" Friday is all too real. No-one's life ends happily, not even Jesus's.

Worse still, I find the resurrection problematic beyond belief. It doesn't matter if I approach it metaphorically, spiritually, or blood-and-kidneys physically -- resurrection is so removed from my existence as to be alien to me.

Not so judgement. I notice the Lectionary readings for this week include passages from Amos. If Amos and all the other biblical prophets have a central concern, it seems to be this: if you really want to piss G_D off, make a show of calling yourself G_D's people, then torture and humiliate the people you conquer in war. That's all there is to it. Even gay cowboys don't rate a mention after that.

"When they said 'repent'/I wonder what they meant" -- thank you, Leonard. Our North American democracies have elected two evangelical Christians to their highest offices. They say they read and believe the Bible. What are the odds we'll see something resembling "repentance"? (I refer, of course, to something more substantial than a muttered, "Sorry 'bout that, Jesus," before you roll over and go to sleep).

I can't find comfort in any of this. G_D's crosshairs are notoriously imprecise. Besides, I don't want a blood-and-judgement G_D; I want a resurrection G_D. I just don't know what that looks like.

The Sex Pistols: Filthier and Furiouser

Is it possible to be a 40-year-old white anglo-male and not love The Sex Pistols? I think not. (Thank-you, Andrew)

Blast From The Past

Looks like someone's posted a vintage Jason & The Scorchers video on YouTube. Nice!

"The bizarre tale of how sober, conservative Toronto of the 60s allowed the hippie high-rise of Rochdale College into its midst."

"One thing's for certain: there'll be plenty of people who'll tell us we got it wrong."

So says Bob Nasmith, in this bit from The Toronto Star, regarding The Dream Tower. Life in Rochdale College as performance art 35 years after the fact? I have my doubts, but I'm happy to see any sort of Rochdale spin-off still in play, just because that really was such a strange and emblematic chapter of Trudeau-era Canadian history.

In the meatime, newcomers to Rochdale are advised to seek out Ron Mann's doc by the same title. My own modest (and properly confused) metaphoric summary: if you run Haight Street through Woodstock and Altamont, it will stretch north and end in a cul-de-sac at Rochdale.