Sdtrk: ‘Tell her no’ by the Zombies

Don’t know what really put this into my head, but I thought of a really fab outfit to wear for any Hallowe’en parties I might attend. Wait, I don’t go to parties. Okay, perhaps for cosplaying. Wait, I don’t do that, either. Right; here’s an idea for a costume for use in a general Hallowe’en context. Stop interrupting.
All I’d need is
+ a white pair of dress shoes
+ a white pair of casual dress trousers
+ a white belt
+ a white shirt
+ white gloves
+ a white tie
+ a white single-breasted blazer
+ a white fedora
+ and a white facemask
and voila, I could go out as Steve Ditko’s Objectivist anti-hero, Mr. A!

Yes, he talks like that all the time

Even though I’m not rabidly into comics, I love Mr. A, cos he’s such an extremely polarising character — you either love him or you hate him. Which is just how Mr. A himself would’ve liked it.

Back in 1966, comic book auteur and recluse Steve Ditko had left Marvel Comics, where he had brought the world Spider-Man and Doctor Strange, and was working for Charlton, a comic book publisher that has since vanished into history. One of the characters he originated during his tenure there was a gentleman called The Question, who was the alias of investigative journalist Vic Sage. When Vic went into vigilante crime-fightin’ mode, he would use a gas that would not only change the colour of his hair and clothes, but also adhere a rather creepy blank mask to his face.

The Question, crooning sweet nothings to his fans, as usual

Now, despite the blank face separating him from being a watered-down Batman, The Question was the first true comic book embodiment of Ditko’s Objectivist viewpoint. Ditko was an enormous fan of Ayn Rand, the Russian-born writer-slash-philosopher, who, in her own long-winded fashion, espoused the drive towards people being individuals that must shun not only the State, but any and all ideas of Collectivism. The original version of Vic Sage was a solitary crusader, often found righting wrongs in a corrupt society through a lot of punching.

In 1967, feeling that The Question wasn’t hewing close enough to the Randian ideal, Ditko wrote and illustrated a short story for a magazine called witzend, where he debuted Rex Graine, a newspaper reporter with the unforgettable alias of Mr. A. Whereas The Question might (note the word, ‘might’) let evildoers live when he caught them, Mr. A simply did not fuck around. He saw people in society as either being virtuous and harming no-one as they follow the path of Good, or immoral beings only intent on furthering their own corrupt goals; there was only black and white, with absolutely no shades of moralistic grey in between.
I’m just going to shamelessly rip a few paragraphs out of the Wikipedia entry on him, an act which would probably make me a criminal in the eyes of Mr. A:

Typical stories will have one character convince him or herself that doing just a few illegal acts to get ahead in life will not make him or her a bad person. This character’s crimes escalate when they must either take action to cover their previous misdeeds or are now too closely tied to more dangerous criminals to simply walk away. The stories invariably end with Mr. A confronting the criminals and telling them that they are all guilty, including the character who had wished to remain good. A staple for most stories involves this character trying to justify his or her immoral actions to both others and him or herself, blaming things such as environment and society rather than taking responsibility.

Almost every character speaks about the ideological reasoning behind their actions on every panel, thus showing that the adventure story is not meant to be just entertainment, but is to show an ideological dialogue and hopefully sway readers over to Objectivism.

Not all of Mr. A’s stories are crime adventures. Some are allegorical representations of the guilty trying to explain why they compromised their values. Mr. A, on a white platform, denounces their explanations. These stories typically end with the guilty falling into an abyss off of their black platform. This representation often occurs at the end of the adventure stories as well.

Critics have said that Mr. A is an unfeeling character who offers no remorse or mercy to criminals. In the stories themselves Mr. A says that he feels only for the innocent and victimized. His brand of justice might seem harsh to some, but on the other hand his punishments for criminals arguably fit the crimes they committed. People who commit “just one crime”, such as accepting dirty money are turned over to authorities to stand trial for what they have done. Mr. A refuses to overlook their transgressions, even if they profess they will be good from then on. Killers and would-be-killers generally find themselves in situations where they need Mr. A’s assistance to save them, but since they had no respect for innocent lives then he offers no aid for their guilty ones. It is only when an innocent life is directly threatened that Mr. A will kill, and when he does so it is without remorse.

In Ditko’s own way, a lot of the Mr. A stories remind me somewhat of Chick tracts, those kitschy Judaeo-christian fusions of morality and flat-out propaganda that you find in finer bus stations everywhere. You know — ‘you must do absolute good at all times, otherwise you’re going to Hell’. Mr. A’s just more immediate about it.
Incidentally, the character’s name stems from one of Aristotle’s statements, which is expanded upon by one of the characters in Rand’s ‘Atlas shrugged’: A is A. Meaning that a thing is a thing, and it can never be anything else. A doorknob will always be a doorknob; it will never be a sonic screwdriver, or a Bundt cake, or etc. Also, as the prototype for Mr. A was called The Question, Mr. A is the Answer, as in Q and A. Very clever, Steve Ditko.
Later in the Nineties, Ditko would be co-creator on his most important character to date, Squirrel Girl. But that’s a story for another time.

You’re at this point asking yourself, where does Rorschach fit into all of this? Simple! As I’d mentioned, Charlton Comics had dissolved around 1986; in 1983, DC Comics had bought the rights to a lot of the characters, one of them being The Question. Wild-eyed scary godlike genius writer Alan Moore was going to use some of those characters in a story he was developing at the time entitled Watchmen, but he ended up creating original characters based upon the Charlton heroes. Can you guess which one Rorschach was based off of? Go on, have a guess.

O Rorschach, you so crazy

So yeah! You have to love Mr. A and his overbearing monomania. Incidentally, as Mr. A’s appearances are desperately out of print, ‘Dial B for Blog’ wrote a fantastic three-part article on him, which features excerpts from his first appearance. Utterly compelling.
Now as obscurely fantastic as dressing up as Mr. A would be, to make the whole effect really come together, I’d have to recite a lot of boilerplate Randian-type talk for whenever I spoke in character, which could either be hilarious or ugly.

HOST: Hey there… ah, Good Humor Man? Have you tried the punch? It’s my special recipe!
‘MR. A’: Sorry, I’m not drinking.
HOST: Oh come on, loosen up a little! It’s ju *gets decked*
‘MR. A’: NO MAN HAS THE RIGHT TO DICTATE TO OTHERS HOW TO LIVE OR WHAT TO CHOOSE! IT’S EITHER ONE SIDE OR THE OTHER! IF YOU SUPPORT EVIL THEN etc etc

Which leads me to ask which would be scarier / more effective: dressing as and being in character as Mr. A, or dressing as and being in character as Rorschach?

Technorati tags: Steve Ditko, Objectivism, Mr. A, Marvel Comics, Spider-Man, Doctor Strange, Charlton Comics, The Question, Ayn Rand, Jack T. Chick, Atlas Shrugged, Aristotle, Rorschach, DC Comics, Alan Moore, Watchmen, Squirrel Girl

Sdtrk: ‘Kinetic harvest’ by Module

In urban areas, it’s not unusual to encounter hand-lettered adverts that turn their nose up so much at the conventions of normal spelling, that they border on folk art. This ice cream truck, which I’d photographed while driving home one day, would fall under that category.
As an aside, I’d like to point out that I shot this pic with my cellphone whilst driving alongside the truck, which is a fact that I’m needlessly impressed with…

Nothing wrong with the Cones, Sundaes, and Banana Boats that they have on offer, but Nacho? And Shackes?? ‘No no, we can only sell you a single nacho; any more than that would spoil you’. And a Shacke is a new invention; it’s a wee bit like a shake, a wee bit like a shack, a wee bit like a shackle, and a wee bit like Shaq. They have many in their truck, but by law they can only sell you one; any more would spoil you

Sdtrk: ‘Sm head, Lg torso; crushing grip’ by Dymaxion

Huh! Well, you lot have earned a non-sequitur picture as a reward!

Thanks very much to all who have visited; do please come back soon! Or, to make it even simpler, don’t leave! That way, you won’t lose your parking space!

EDIT (21 SEPT): Somewhat related, mostly demented! ‘You got your Colonel Sanders in my EVA 01!’ ‘You got your EVA 01 in my Colonel Sanders!’ &c.

Sdtrk: ‘Falling for you’ by The Soundcarriers

Ah, good! It’s nice to be back, and nicer still to see that you lot haven’t set the place ablaze in my absence! Although I see our liquor cabinet’s been broken into, and all our absinthe is gone. That figures.

So what have I been doing during my Official Excuse for Not Writing Period? Well, attempting to take it easy, really. I caught up on a few Emails, which may not sound like anything significant, but anyone that knows me knows that my missives tends toward freight trains of paragraphs, with periodic months in between responses, so it was nice to polish some of those off and get them to their intended recipients. After having to reintroduce myself, that is. No, seriously. ‘Hi, remember me? You wrote me last year, and now I’m writing you back?’ *shaking head* Man.

Also, I contracted pleurisy! Which is a heresy. I got it from Morrissey! Alright, I’m done. But yes, I did indeed get it, which is frankly ridiculous, as far as I’m concerned. I mean, how Dickensian can you get? Although I did know two people that once contracted shingles, and one of my best friend’s past landlords apparently came down with gangrene, so I’m merely contributing to the Revival of Olde-Tyme Ailments and Maladies. Much to my chagrin.
The upper part of my lungs were somewhat sore for over a week, so I went in to my doctor’s office to be seen to. Unfortunately, my doctor was on holiday, the tosser, so I was shunted over to the other doctor that shares his office, whose curt manner left a little to be desired. She called for bloodwork, chest X-rays, and an EEG, which is the most activity I’ve ever experienced at my GP’s office — usually it’s just ‘stand on this scale, roll up your sleeve, breathe in, breathe out, here’s a script, GET OUT’. She did, however, prescribe me some Zithromax, and gave me an inhaler to use. Weeks later, I’m still making use of those, as I’m still fighting this sumbitch. Ergh.
Pleurisy, if you’re not familiar with it, in which case you should be grateful, is ‘an inflammation of the pleura, which is the moist, double-layered membrane that surrounds the lungs and lines the rib cage,‘ as WebMD says. It’s usually caused by bacterial infection. Of course, that has me wondering where and how the hell I got infected, as I’m one of the neatest freaks in Christendom. In lieu of a definitive answer, I shall blame my workplace, as it’s never brought me anything good.

Actually, no, I take that back; work has brought me exactly one good thing! Well, ish. Since there’s now a ban on bringing in books — I refuse to comment on that, cos you already know what my answer would be — they gave out company-branded notebooks made from recycled paper. Each one came complete with a pen, and a cloth loop to hold said pen, which was actually kinda cool. As I’ve been arbitrarily herded over to a different section, I’m surrounded by coworkers that I’ve never seen before, which means they’ve never seen me before. I tend to hide and keep to myself when I’m there, if you can believe that. But on two separate occasions, I’ve had coworkers, upon viewing me scribbling in my company-approved notebook, ask me if I was writing poetry. Poetry? Also, there was one lass who’d asked me if I was writing raps. Raps‽ Do I look like a rappist??* Well, I suppose if that’s the only reference point for music that you possess… no, wait, that still doesn’t make any damned sense!
So since there’s a ban on reading, and a ban on using cellphones, I spend my workdays writing posts or letters, and being made aware of two things:
1) Paper slows me down, and
2) My handwriting is a collision of indecipherable glyphs. Huh.
*tears out sheet, wads it up*

Apparently, BBC America aired ‘Love me, love my Doll’ again on the 22nd of August. I recall that evening I was poking round my blog’s Dashboard and checking its stats, as per usual, when I’d noticed that at one point, there were like ten people looking at ‘Shouting etc etc’ simultaneously! As I’m always the last to know whenever the BBC America programme directors decide to trot that documentary out again, I was wondering what forum / site was linking to me and making disparaging comments and snide remarks this time. It was all good, as the kids say, though. It’ll just be nice once the National Geographic documentary airs, as it won’t be so… dated. And no, I don’t have a date for it yet; I could tell you were getting ready to ask.
Coincidentally enough, I was spotted, thanks to ‘Love me, love my Doll’, at one of the stores I frequent! As I was making my purchases, some random lass stopped me and said I looked familiar.
SOME LASS: ‘Were you on television?’
ME: ‘Perhaps I was!’
SOME LASS: ‘Yeah, you were on that documentary with the Dolls, weren’t you! I thought you looked familiar!’
ME: ‘Yeah, that was me. My partner and I have been together for about nine years.’
SOME LASS: ‘That was really… interesting. How much do they cost, $10,000?’
CLERK: ‘You were on TV? What kind of show was it?’
ME: ‘Noooo, they’re only about $7000! (to clerk) It was a show about artificial humans.’
CLERK (takes my wrist, squeezes it): ‘Are you real?’
followed by hearty chuckling from all parties involved. You’ll note how I didn’t answer the clerk’s question, though. *winks*

Finally, if you cast your gaze to the lefthand sidebar, just below that ‘Today’s Kanji’ widget that remains largely ignored, you’ll spot a new addition to that particular area: my Amazon.com wish list. It’s rather large; you can’t miss it. Compiled over the course of seven years of wishful thinking, it’s a great way to click on and shop for things that interest me that might well interest you. It’s also a great way to discover what I’d like for a gift, and to buy it for me! Cos really, when it comes down to it, I ain’t too proud to beg.

And that brings us, roughly, up to now. Expect more posts soon!
So how are you, then?

*I don’t call them ‘rappers’, I call them ‘rappists’, as rap rapes my ears. I’m fairly certain you’ll agree

Sdtrk: ‘Buggy whip flings’ by The Hafler trio

When you see the above photo, what do you believe you’re looking at? A flag, right? But if you consider for a moment, you’re not seeing a flag, you’re looking at a flag of a flag — a flag with an image of the flag of the United States on it. Furthermore, you’re actually staring at a picture of a flag of a flag, not the flag of a flag itself. And to add a final layer, the above image isn’t even the original one I took with my phone; it’s a screenshot that I made when I was cropping and resizing it. So in essence, this is a picture of a picture of a flag of a flag.

Literal interpretation meets limited recursion. Whoever came up with the series of ‘YO DAWG I HERD U LIKE‘ Xzibit jokes has this to thank

Sdtrk: ‘A benção bahia’ by Toquinho

My enlightening report on our recent film crew interactions goes up Monday. In the meantime, Happy Summer Solstice!

Germany 1970. The German moderator discuss in the beginning how boring and lame the official looks are and that the fashion and color designers came up with the following outfits to make the game more interesting and colorful. They explain very detailed the colors since at the point many did not have color tv!
Clearly they made my day with the ideas. I just keep cracking up! I have no clue why they dance so madly. latin music dancing models with soccer fashion without shoes. but even Guenther thinks that the trikot needs an update as a service and entertainment for the fans who watch soccer games

Category: Comedy

Sdtrk: ‘Who can say’ by The horrors

Nope! But instead, there is this, which is a genuine news article.

Whitstable mum in custard shortage
This is Kent.co.uk | Published Wednesday, March 25, 2009, 19:42

A MUM of three is dis-custard after a hunt for the dessert sauce in the town proved fruitless.

Keen baker Jules Serkin, 43, of West Cliff, Whitstable, needed a tin of custard powder to top off her apple and blackcurrant crumble.

But she was left with a sour taste in her mouth after getting no joy in either Co-ops at Oxford Street and Canterbury Road, and in Somerfield, in the High Street.

Even a trek to Tankerton’s Tesco Express – a corner shop version of its superstores – was wasted.

“I try to support my local businesses, but in the end I had to resort to going to one of the big supermarkets to get what I needed,” said Jules, a holiday rental company director.

“I feel very sad that I can’t seem to get basic stuff from my high street, and am driven to go online.

“Custard is a staple product on my shopping list and I cannot understand why it should be so hard to find.

“An assistant in Somerfield said they’d had other shoppers asking for tins of custard, but it hadn’t been in stock since the shop was refurbished.

“And in the Co-ops I was just greeted with an empty shelf where it should be, and no idea when they might be getting it in.

“I am upset because it seems these shops cannot order a product that customers are demanding as it doesn’t seem to fit in with what they are selling.

“I had to resort to buying sachets which cost only a few pence less than a tin, and don’t go very far at all. If I buy a tin, it goes in my pantry and will last me quite a few crumbles.

“I’m making an apple and blackcurrant crumble and, as I am trying to eat healthily can control what I put into the custard, like skimmed milk.

“With the sachets, there are all sorts of ingredients and additives – and you just add water to make it.

“It’s very convenient, but not as good as the real thing. Custard should be a lovely comfort, nice and thick.”
the rest of the article is here

I suppose even the best news outlets can have slow news days. Fortunately, I wouldn’t know anything about that!
I should clarify here: I meant I don’t know anything about being a ‘best news outlet’.

Sorry! Hopefully something will arise soon before the month is out. In the meantime, have a pic of a lovely lass by the late-lamented Chestnut co. Ltd. of Japan to tide you over, cos that’s the exact sort of thing you’d expect from ‘Shouting etc etc’

‘Sure hope he’s got new Doll or Synthetik news posted… wait, what the hell is all this crap about custard??’

Technorati tags: Whitstable, Kent, custard, panic