Hey baby

I generally dislike the on-going Spider-Girl series from Marvel. Well to be accurate, not disliked exactly, more like didn’t really care about the concept. Which is odd because the entire run is like reading a late-seventies Marvel series and as everyone knows 1970s Marvel was just about the best Marvel ever! I can’t blame Defalco, Frenz, Buscema and the rest for my lack of interest. They are doing what many creative teams seem unable to do these days…regularly put out a title without undue delays while giving quality entertainment.

But then I became a bit more interested in the book because of one character I noticed in Spider-Girl #12 (Nov 2007)

BABY CARNAGE!

Darn it. Now I have to keep buying this series just to see what is going to happen with Little Ben.

Homicidal infants are always good for sales.

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Friday Catblogging

Way back before comic book artists at conventions charged high rates for sketches in order to offset or discourage the predatory practices of “fans” who then quickly turn around and sell the art they procure online, I was lucky enough to meet up with the cartoonist, the late B. Kliban, who was a guest at the 1981 San Diego Comic Con. We were lounging at the hotel pool (he was a guest, I was a Comic Con attendee pretending I was allowed pool-side with the celebrities). We talked for a bit and eventually I let him know my mom was a big fan of his work and that she had all of his books and several merchandised items.

Unprompted, Kliban asked for my convention art pad I carried around for autographs and sketches and drew a variation of his “Sneaker Cat” piece. I was prepared to pay a premium for the work but he refused any gratuity. What a gentleman. I had the sketch professionally framed and presented it to my mom for her birthday.


I heard from other people shortly after that meeting that Kliban would often give away his art. Sometimes when people asked Kliban to autograph a book of his strips he would take the book and tell the autograph-seeker to return sometime later that day. To their surprise, Kliban would have filled the margins and blank spaces of the pages of the collection with cartoons, notes and other drawings. Since Kliban was a big deal with best selling cartoon books and a licensing franchise in full swing that he could remain so approachable was pretty cool.

I’m not saying that the creators of today would not perform a similar feat for a real fan but certainly the market of today would make an artist think twice about giving away a sketch, because in many instances the artist would in effect be working for free for someone who is basically a reseller out to make a quick buck off of their work.

Thanks again, Mr. Kliban. Your gift adorns a wall of my mom’s house to this day.

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How did I come to this?

I used to bike 10-plus miles a day, visit museums and surf on the ocean. I spent weekends jumping from that cliff-in-La Jolla-that-shall-not be-named, doing things and meeting people.

As I lay on the floor yesterday unable to move I wondered what the heck has happened to me. This was not the life I planned. If I was the type of person who blamed others for the choices I had made I would have been totally pissed off.

The problem started with a slight twinge in my lower back that continued for a few minutes. Then the small itch exploded into agony without any intermittent escalation. It felt as if Zeus tied a lightning bolt to a hob-nailed boot and rammed his foot up my anus. Twice. I dropped to the floor in mid-step, barely managing to control the descent enough not to slam my head onto anything and rolled over flat onto my back. It took a awhile to stop sobbing. After a time the pain in my back faded enough that I could move my arms, not that it did me any good. All I could manage was a weak flailing.

I just know I did a great “Chekov-face” right before I collapsed.

I tried to get up but couldn’t. I had complete muscle failure in my lower back and when I did manage to move a bit the pain came burning right back. If I could have reached my phone I would have called for an ambulance, but it was in the kitchen and it may well have been in another state for all that I could reach it.

To make my situation worse the four stupid dogs that live in the house kept coming over and licking my face and ears. I guess they were checking me out or were concerned but they all eat poop as between-meal snacks so I failed to appreciate their slobbering efforts all over my face. My main concern other than poop-saliva on my face was that at that moment I was basically a wounded animal in the midst of a pack of dogs. I guess I should have been grateful they didn’t tear me to shreds and feast on my remains in a frenzy of applied Darwinism.

So for the next half of an hour I lay on my back on the furry, dusty floor. Eventually, I got the idea to use my arms to push/slide me over to a table so I could use it to stand again. That took a few minutes and when I reached the table it was unsuccessful since I couldn’t lever myself up to to grab the edge. I managed to roll over without soiling myself and spent several minutes getting to my feet incrementally. I then staggered over to the couch where I experienced a whole new level of spinal agony as I lay down. I basically had to let myself fall and hope I landed in a way I could reposition for comfort.

Aside from the horrible, emasculating pain the next 4 hours sucked. The channel the television was on was showing really bad Kung Fu movies and the remote was over by the set. The house was hot. My drink was on another table and I couldn’t reach it. The stupid dogs kept bugging me to play and jumping on and off the couch, which really hurt when the couch shook.

Is this my future? In between periods of restless sleep I imagined shopping for those spring loaded cushions that help you get up out of a chair and replying in the affirmative when a cashier offers to have someone take my groceries out to the car. That sucks.

Several hours passed and I was eventually able to get up and go to the restroom without falling down. After about a day the pain went away.

I better be nicer to the kid. He’ll probably be taking care of me soon.

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