As I plan my next staycation, it’s time for that game we call ASK ROGER ANYTHING, in which said Roger is COMPELLED to actually answer the question. There hasn’t been a query yet I haven’t answered in some form.
Here are some examples: What was the #1 song on … – the day I were born? – the day I graduated from high school? – the day I were married? – the day my child was born? – the approximate date I was conceived?
Respectively, “Till I Waltz Again with You” by Teresa Brewer “Knock Three Times” by Dawn “Livin’ La Vida Loca” by Ricky Martin “Yeah!” by Usher featuring Ludacris & Lil Jon “Blue Tango” by Leroy Anderson
Here’s a peculiar thing: most people that I know who were born in 1966 or 1976 know the music of the year they were born far better than I know the music of 1953. Why IS that?
And speaking of asking, I still have copies of this book on racism which I’m willing to send to you. Also, I have some mixed CDs I put together, some going back to before I blogged, mostly unlabeled, that I’d send to anyone who wants; can’t guarantee the quality, but as Elwood Blues once said, “What do you want for nothin’? R-r-r-rubber bis-CUITS?” ROG
No, I can have “bad luck” any time, usually brought on myself.
1. I went to the local comic book store on Free Comic Book Day last month and bought a book called Persepolis, actually The Complete Persepolis by Marjane Satrapi, which is about that Iranian girl talking about the period before and after the rise of the Ayatollah Khomenini. It was made into an Oscar-nominated film in the past year that I meant to see but didn’t; it’ll be out on DVD June 24. See, FCBD CAN generate sales.
Generally, I don’t bring books with me when I travel, but I was so intrigued about reading this particular book that I took it with me when I went to my work conference the day after FCBD. Naturally, I left it at the hotel. I realized this even before I got home and called the hotel to ask them if they could send it to me, and they replied quickly. What I didn’t know was that the charge for sending me the book would be $30 – at least $5 more than I paid for the book in the first place. The actual shipping cost was $10.40, but there was a COD charge. And it would have been $1.60 more if I had paid in cash, for then the post office would have had to pay to buy a money order to send to the hotel. Now I could have just blown it off, and bought a new copy of the book, but since I had initiated them sending it to me, I felt it was my error and that I should just eat the extra cost.
2. My friend Uthaclena came up to help me fix my computer. We went out and bought some wine after dinner and I put one of the bottles in the freezer. The next day I opened the freezer door to find that the cork had popped out of said bottle with slushy alcohol across the bottom of the freezer. Fortunately, it spilled only about 10% of the volume. I sat the wine on the counter and it reconstituted into the potable beverage. I suppose it could have been worse; the bottle could have exploded, with broken glass everywhere.
Oh, I must thank my friend Lori in Florida, who I knew from when we went to church together about a decade ago. Because of my injury, she was kind enough to let me dictate content to her over the phone, type it, then e-mail it to me. She did this for about seven posts, including today’s, and I am most grateful. ROG
It seems I discovered Jack Kirby at the worst possible time. I started reading comics in the early 1970s, but I was pretty much a Marvel zombie, thus missing New Gods and the other books from his “Fourth World” until about a decade later. So when the “Jack is back!” mantra came to Marvel in the mid-1970s, I was excited to see the work of the legendary KING of comics. Boy, was I disappointed. Captain America seemed to be a character from another time. The formerly sleek Black Panther seemed cartoony. And Devil Dinosaur?!
So it wasn’t until I started working at a comic book store in Albany called FantaCo when I got to really get an understanding of Jack Kirby’s significance, and more importantly, tremendous skills in developing the Marvel universe that I knew and loved. And digging further, I recognized his prolific output in the pre-Marvel days.
But it took the Mark Evanier book, Kirby: King of Comics, before I got the full measure of the man born Jacob Kurzberg on August 28, 1913 in New York City. More than just a narrative, this small coffee-table presented artwork from his days as a comic strip writer working under several pseudonyms and his work for several comic book companies.
A couple core narratives flow through the book: 1) Jack was creative and fast, 2) Jack obsessed with financial security, though largely did not know how to achieve this, long before the disputes over what parts of the classic Marvel universe Jack was responsible for and how much writer/editor Stan Lee created. Jack, not always glib of tongue, had a strong sense of justice and often thought that his hard work would get him the financial remuneration to which he was undoubtedly entitled. If Evanier, Kirby’s assistant and friend for a number of years, tends to err on the side of his subject, it seems consistent with the throngs of Kirby fans who believe that Jack has gotten ripped off, not just monetarily but also in terms of credit.
This may not the definitive Kirby biography that some may have been seeking – at 219 pages, over half are full-page illustrations or pictures, and many other pages have accompanying art on them – but I’m happy to own it, perhaps BECAUSE of the many pictures from over the years. Incidentally, Amazon suggested that the book would take two to five weeks, but I ordered it on February 29, and it arrived on my birthday, March 7, a mere week later.
I spoke to Jack Kirby only a couple times, chronicled here. At that time, I was just beginning to get a sense of what a great contributor to comic-book art – no, scratch that, ART – he was.
One criticism of the book was that Evanier didn’t take advantage of his long association to dig deeper inside the man, but I get the sense that Jack was who Jack was, with no psychobabble analysis needed. And the one story that Mark told about himself and Jack at the end of the book was both moving and a good representation of Jack’s character.
So, thanks, Mark. And thank you, Jack. *** ADD’s review.
1. Pick up the nearest book (of at least 123 pages). 2. Open the book to page 123. 3. Find the fifth sentence. 4. Post the next three sentences. 5. Tag five people.
Well, I happened to be in the public library so I went to the nearest shelf, which happens to have been the 7-day loan fiction, i.e. recent popular fiction, and got Street Love: A Triple Crown Anthology (2007). From The Fink, by Quentin Carter: Not bionic. Not super. Just lil ole Shania Freeman.
Eh, try again. Nikki Turner presents Street Chronicles: Tales from da Hood (2006). From the story 360 by The Ghost: The two agents walked out the door. They’d gotten what they wanted. Cojack’s mother kissed him on the cheek, sat down with him for a while, then headed home to get some rest.”
Well, that was better. One more time: The Lost Diary of Don Juan by Douglas Carlton Abrahams(2007): My interest today, however, was in only one daughter, and from what I had seen, she was hardly defenseless. The Marquis’s palace was an enormous brown stone edifice with three curved balconies and many large windows surrounded by decorative columns. Two guards stood by the door, and over their clothes they wore the sleeveless blue tunic that bore the Marquis’s coat of arms, with a castle and lion embroidered in gold.
OK, consider yourselves tagged if you haven’t posted in the past 33 days. ROG
I was going to write about this much earlier, but now that I’ve actually read the book, now’s probably even a better time.
We had our office Christmas holiday party in our office area this past year. I reckon it was a direct result of the previous year’s gathering at some amazingly crowded restaurant where the people from the next area could bump into us with astonishing regularity. That said, I was quite disappointed with the decision. Getting out of the office was nice when we worked downtown, but now that I’m in suburban cubicleland, it seemed essential. And it was a potluck, always a pain when you take three buses to work.
Still, it wasn’t awful, and in fact, we took over the “training room”, a large meeting room, and it was all right. What was striking, though, was the gift exchange. Of the 12 gifts traded, fully four of them had a cubicle theme. In 2006, when we first moved in, we didn’t see such gifts, but in 2007, it was as though it’s finally sinking in. One person got a weather cube, another a Dilbert calendar, a third an actual miniature cubicle with a “person” at his computer that the real person can control.
I got a book, a 2007 paperback called The Cubicle Survival Guide by James F. Thompson. Its subtitle is the title of this piece. Of course, some of this is common sense, except that, as many of us have realized, “common sense” is not all that common. Introduction: Railing against the term “cubicle farm” Chapter 1: Perspective. “They’re not real walls.” Chapter 2: Decoration. Postcards, family photos, small plants, yes. Religious and political icons, no, unless that’s the norm. Chapter 3: On the Phone. How to speak in code, because whispering or even speaking in another language might not cut it. Also, how to deal with “speakerphone divas.” Chapter 4: Illness, Bodily Functions and Injuries. Frequent trips to the bathroom, using discretion, and detours to treat that hangover. Chapter 5: Eating, Drinking and Digesting. Fish is at the top of the stink pyramid. Consideration when using the toaster oven and the microwave creates peace. Chapter 6: Hygiene. Don’t trim your fingernails. Wear your shoes. Limit the perfume. Chapter 7: Entertaining Guests and Unannounced Visitors. Use defensive body-language techniques to get rid of the office lamprey. Chapter 8: Anti-Spy Methods and Counterespionage Equipment. Ctrl-W, alliances with colleagues, small fonts, rearview mirror. Chapter 9: Exercising, Blood Circulation and Posture. Some good, specific exercises. Take a break, have a life. Chapter 10: Protecting Yourself and Your Cubicle. No passwords on your computers, use yellow police tape. I think the latter’s a joke, but I’m not sure. This book may be more useful to point out to others their shortcomings than for you, who would never eat a stinky cheese in a cubicle. Would you?
At said party, my favorite thing to eat was this. They’re not “heavy”, as you might assume they are.
Sausage Balls (from the Lady and Sons Cookbook – a Savannah, GA restaurant)
3 cups Bisques or baking mix 1 pound of sausage (I use the roll of Jimmy Dean sausage) – not cooked 2 cups of shredded cheddar cheese 2 beaten eggs
Put the first three ingredients in a big mixing bowl and stir together. It forms stiff dough that loosens up when you add the beaten eggs. Mix well. Form 1” balls (like a medium sized meatball) and place about 2” apart on a baking sheet. Bake 15 minutes at 350 degrees. The color will change only slightly during the baking. These are best served warm. The recipe makes nearly 2 dozen balls, depending on the size.
