Al Williamson

One of my favorite comics artists, Al Williamson, has died. I first encountered his work, as you might expect, in the context of a Star Wars comic book. His work is exceptionally detailed, and he especially excels at suggesting texture. Here are a few examples I grabbed from around the Interweb.

From Byzantium's Shores: chronicling the misadventures of an overalls-clad hippie
From Byzantium's Shores: chronicling the misadventures of an overalls-clad hippie
From Byzantium's Shores: chronicling the misadventures of an overalls-clad hippie
From Byzantium's Shores: chronicling the misadventures of an overalls-clad hippie
From Byzantium's Shores: chronicling the misadventures of an overalls-clad hippie

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A Post of Pith

Some pithy observations:

:: I’m sorry, soccer-lovers of the world, but your sport just isn’t for me. I can’t imagine what you all love about it so. I get especially confused when soccer fans tell me that baseball is too slow-paced a game. Soccer makes me long for things that are a lot more exciting, like reading a textbook on accounting, sorting my silverware, shopping for towels at Target, or watching a nature documentary of octopuses copulating in slow motion. How on Earth soccer manages to inspire anyone to stay awake, much less to a massive riot (win or lose!), is utterly beyond me.

:: There’s a relatively new video store near Casa Jaquandor that is now our default video store, since the closest three Blockbusters all closed. It’s a nice enough store, but in some cases, their movies are full-screen versions. I find it impossible to take that store seriously now. Full-screen? Really?! Why not stock VHS while you’re at it?

:: Friday night fun: turn down the lights, put some Pink Floyd on the stereo, and read a couple of Funky Winkerbean collections by candle-light. Make sure you have the suicide hotline on speed-dial, though.

:: So we’re at a mini-golf place the other day, and Hole #18 is just a normal hole. That was really weird. At every mini-golf place I’ve ever been to, Hole #18 actually keeps your ball. This one doesn’t. Weird.

:: I keep looking for recent (last 10 years or so) superhero comics that aren’t mainly depressing tracts in which we delve into the existential issues of the hero of the title, and aside from the Joss Whedon run on X-Men, I’m not finding any. The latest? Spiderman: Reign. Decent enough story, but all through it I keep thinking that it’s just The Dark Knight Spider Returns.

:: I didn’t see a hard copy, so I don’t know if it was an actual front-page story, but the other day, one of the top three stories on the Buffalo News website was an article on the pernicious menace of…goose poop. Seriously. Lots of Canadian Geese fly over us, either on the way to Canada or on the way out of it a few months from now, and it turns out that…geese poop. And that poop is a news story in the Buffalo paper. Hard to believe newspapers are in trouble these days.

:: I’m having a hell of a time finding ideal headphones for my cell phone. It uses a smaller headphone jack than normal headphones. I got a ten-buck adapter thing, but the adapter’s not very robust, and it’s already started that thing that headphone cords tend to do over time. I have a pair of earbuds that fit the phone, but the buds themselves don’t seat reliably into my ear, or if they do, they un-seat themselves fairly quickly, robbing me of sound quality. This is an annoyance, since I put an 8GB card into my phone and want to use it as my main MP3 player.

:: Seen at The Store: mother pushing her shopping cart. It’s one of those kid’s carts where the front is shaped like a car or truck or something. Little boy reaches out and grabs the pursestring of a passing old lady, who grabs her purse back, sees that it’s a little boy in a kid-cart, and starts laughing. Mother then comes forward, smacks the kid, and says — I swear I am not making this up — “I told you to stop doing that!” Never have I seen a child whose future was more certain.

:: Thing I’m tired of hearing about: “Man-caves”.

:: A while back, The Wife had a flat tire on her way home from work, so she called me and I ventured out to help her. Of course she was stopped on the side of I-90 in Buffalo. Nice and busy. Of course the driver’s side tire was the one. Of course the spare was rusted in place and I couldn’t budge it. Long story short, we called a tow truck. Tow truck arrived. Driven by an enormous person who looked an awful lot like Robert from Hell’s Kitchen, but with a very high-pitched voice. Long story short…we couldn’t tell whether our tow-truck driver was a man or a woman. So the other night, we’re driving to Kleinhans Music Hall, and there on the side of I-190 in downtown Buffalo is a tow truck, where the unfortunate vehicle is being trussed up by none other than our sexually-ambiguous friend from a few months ago.

:: If you’re going to insist on talking on your cell phone while you’re driving, might it not be a bit safer to hold it in the same hand as the ear you’re holding the phone up to? As opposed to wrapping your right hand all the way around your head while you’re trying to maintain 65MPH on an urban highway?

:: I find this defense of the phrase “I could care less” staggeringly unconvincing.

:: I swear, my interest in football drops a bit each year…and yet, every summer, I’m excited when all the “Pro Football Preview” magazines start coming out. I always buy three of ’em.

:: “Dad, my teacher says that if I want to bring in cupcakes, it has to be tomorrow.” GAHHH!!!

:: Sign #785 that you may have jumped the shark as a person: you and a friend speculated on what a musical version of Schindler’s List would be like, right down to the show-stopping dance number and the closing power ballad, “I Could Have Done More”.

OK, that’s probably enough pith for now. Don’t worry, I won’t be exorcizing my pith on a regular basis. I’d like to keep some of my readers!

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Dispatches

Sorry for the radio silence, but my father-in-law is in town visiting so we’re doing more family stuff this weekend than spending time online. Regular posting will resume Monday (although I don’t rule out the possibility of a stray post here and there). For now:

:: World Cup Soccer is starting! Let the snoring begin!! (I find soccer so staggeringly boring as a spectator sport that I’d almost rather watch golf. Or country line dancing. Or a John McCain appearance on a Sunday morning news show.)

:: I heart farmer’s markets.

:: We’ve had no rain for almost thirty-six hours. I hope my plants don’t die.

:: Stupidest thing I’ve read today: a person responding to the notion that maybe 16-year-olds shouldn’t be trying to sail solo around the world by pointing out that teenagers fought and died in the Revolutionary War. Well, I’m convinced!

:: More to say in a post to come, but if Classical Mystery Tour comes to your neck of the woods, please go. We did, and it was an enormous blast.

That’s about it for now. I may have a post or two up before Monday, but no promises! Enjoy your weekend, folks.

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Piled high and deep

Check out this amazing infographic depicting the highest heights and lowest lows of our planet, from the outer reaches of the atmosphere all the way to the bottom of the deepest oceanic trench in the world. It’s topical, too, including in its graphics the depth reached by the Deepwater Horizon well in the Gulf of Mexico. Just seeing graphically how far down they had to go — and, by extension, how far down we’re going to have to routinely go if we insist on oil as our main energy source — really illustrates how non-trivial the problem in the Gulf happens to be.

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Something for Thursday

Something a bit different for this week — an entire episode of Star Trek: The Original Series. This is one of my favorite episodes. It’s not one of the “famous” episodes, like “The Trouble with Tribbles” or “The Menagerie” or “The City on the Edge of Forever”, but this one is one of the series’s best episodes anyway, with its SFnal weirdness, a scary mystery that gives way to a gently beautiful love story. This is the kind of story that makes me wonder what various writers or creative folks in Hollywood are talking about when they imply that their work is better than SF because their stuff is about characters. Without terrific character writing, this wonderful episode just wouldn’t work.

This episode features some outstanding acting by the leads, and some of the series’s finest music. Here’s “Metamorphosis”.

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Bird bird bird, bird is the word!

An appendix to my post yesterday about my book sale acquisitions: I didn’t find anything really cool tucked into any of the books I bought, but I did like this little insignia on the copyright page of the five-of-six volume poetry set I got. Apparently Penguin isn’t the only book company to have ever had some kind of bird as its logo. I thought this was cool: “Look for the WISE old bird!”

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If you have a problem and no one else can help….

I just saw, over at MeFi, within a thread devoted to the new The A-Team movie, a checklist of things you should expect in an A-Team story. Here’s the checklist:

A-Team checklist:

[_] Villagers menaced by goons
[_] Break Murdoch out of mental hospital
[_] I ain’t getting on no plane
[_] Milk
[_] Shooting at feet with Ruger Mini 14
[_] Goons lock A-Team in shed full of parts for a tank that fires cabbages
[_] That shot of the van doing a jump where the hubcap falls off
[_] I love it when a plan comes together

Of course, this list isn’t complete. Here’s the complete list:

A-Team checklist:

(Items added by me in italics)

[_] Villagers menaced by goons
[_] One villager goes to look for the A-Team. Makes contact via a really odd-looking person in downtown LA that turns out to be Hannibal in disguise.
[_] “Looks like someone needs to teach (insert name of head goon here) a lesson. Sir/Ma’am, you’ve just hired the A-Team!”

[_] Break Murdoch out of mental hospital
[_] I ain’t getting on no plane
[_] Murdock’s obsession of the week — maybe the sweat sock he is referring to as his pet rabbit
[_] I ain’t goin’ nowhere with this crazy fool

[_] Milk
[_] A-Team makes first visit to goons, kicks some arse. Except for Face, who always gets his arse kicked in the first act. A-Team’s arse-kicking involves lots of firing of automatic weapons into air, with nothing getting hit except cars.
[_] Some filler stuff as A-Team gets to know the people they’re helping a bit
[_] “Hannibal’s on the jazz.”
[_] OPTIONAL: Military police get a lead on the whereabouts of the A-Team
[_] Another encounter with the goons
[_] Goons figure out a way to get the upper hand

[_] Shooting at feet with Ruger Mini 14
[_] Goons lock A-Team in shed full of parts for a tank that fires cabbages or OPTIONAL: Just as goons make their big move against villagers, Military Police capture them and lock them someplace. Somehow the MPs never account for the fact that Murdock isn’t with Hannibal, Face and BA, allowing him to mount a rescue.
[_] Final fight or OPTIONAL escape from MPs
[_] That shot of the van doing a jump where the hubcap falls off
[_] I love it when a plan comes together
[_] Final freeze-frame of somebody grinning

There you have it. All the elements you need for an A-Team story. Just fill in some names and there you go!

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ForgottenStars.net

The official site of Kelly Sedinger: Reader, writer, photographer, and dreamer

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