The Daily Procrastinator

The Mouse House is apparently looking at buying the House of Ideas. This seems like a positive for both companies, as Marvel would be joining forces with one of the most recognized companies in the world and Disney would have access to Marvel’s seemingly endless supply of superheroes. Disney would more than likely see an increase in its appeal among boys and possibly see Pixar movies involving the Marvel characters (hell, this 37-year old is excited about that possibility).

But are there risks involved with this buy-out? Jokes are made in the above article about Spider-Man appearing in A Bug’s Life sequel, but could Disney actually end up affecting the presentation/appearance of Marvel superheroes in future movies/video games/products?

See for yourself below the Disney buyout of Marvel gone wrong:

This is part 2 of a series of posts looking back at the Epic Comics title “The Alien Legion” – see this post for a quick introduction to the origins of the series.

Any comic title’s first issue not already based in an established universe has a lot of work to do (as, really, any piece of fiction does). Not only does it have to establish setting and characters, it has to do so in a way that will get the reader invested in both and want to pick up the next issue. Realizing this information would have to be presented in prose rather than merely the art, Potts and Zelenetz chose to dedicate the inside cover of the premiere issue to giving readers a quick rundown as to the nature of the universe they are about to be thrown into:

Not exactly as simple as Star Wars’ “It is a period of civil war” scrawl, is it? (nor do we have the benefit of listening to a John Williams score while reading it). It’s actually quite heavy in its use of sci-fi jargon: “Galactic Union”, “Sidereum Galacticum”, “bioforms”, etc., along with the appropriately alien-sounding names of planets and political entities. I wouldn’t be surprised if many readers at the time moved right past that page and into the book itself. Still, the summary offers up the central conflicts that will be played out in the pages of the comic.

Next, Potts and Zelenetz present a series of “bio summaries” of the key players of Force Nomad. Written as if they are taken from the Legion’s private databases, the entries introduce us to the characters with fare such as age and place of origin (immediately giving readers a sense of the enormity of this universe), along with brief psychiatric evaluations.

These entries were an attempt to highlight the more important characters for readers, as the sheer number of legionnaires presented in just the first issue could be a bit overwhelming. Combine this with the unfamiliar setting and numerous planetary references, and the writers were probably concerned that without this foothold, many readers would feel lost before the adventures really got underway.

The story itself begins with a bang, literally, and I wouldn’t begrudge you if you thought the images were vaguely reminiscent of the first scenes of Star Wars, what with the ship under attack and the planets in profile in the background.

Still, while some of the imagery is similar, the story departs soon enough as two squads of Legionnaires manage to evade the Harkilon (the series’ central bad alien race, looking like a cross between the Dark Crystal’s Skeksis and hermit crabs) attack and crash land on a nearby planet.

Things go bad for Vector Squad pretty much immediately as a band of mineral pirates find them and, at the urging of the pirates’ captain, annihilate the legionnaires. Unfortunately, due to their original directives, the soldiers are only armed with biodegradable darts that would not affect the fragile environment, leaving them easy targets. Force Nomad soon finds the remains of Vector Squadron and realize they’re in for a rough time in what would be a common theme in the series – undermanned, outnumbered, and hamstrung by distant politicians’ rules.

It is at this point that the characterization picks up a bit, and we start meeting the core members of Nomad. The humanoid lieutenant Torie Montroc gets quite a bit of space allotted to him, as does Captain Sarigar (seen above), a serpentine alien whose first appearance comes when he breaks up an inter-squad fight among two members of Nomad when tensions run high:

The characterization of each legionnaire is by and large distinct. Above, you can see a bully in the larger Skathe Mescad, and the Bospor (the froggish alien) is a fawning, insecure weakling whose choice was either a prison sentence or a stint in the Legion (Mescad, in a noble moment later in the issue, would save the Bospor from certain death, proving that, at least for him, the brotherhood of the Legion matters). After things calm down a bit, Nomad has to plan a mission to take on the murderous pirates and save the planet from further ecological harm, which is easier said than done, what with the limited resources they have. Still, through the battle intelligence of Sarigar and the viciousness of some of the other legionnaires, Nomad would prove up to the challenge.

Speaking of viciousness, Jugger Grimrod, another legionnaire who would go on to be a fan favorite, only gets a page or so devoted to him in this first issue. But he makes it memorable:

That’s character development!

Frank Cirocco’s artwork is fitting for this series, and he manages to invest each alien with a distinctive look, although many of the aliens tend to be humanoid in structure (an issue that would be commented on by readers throughout its run). Still, there’s a nice pacing to his artwork that can help detract a bit from the fact that there’s so much prose on the page. And that fact is one of the drawbacks, admittedly, in this first issue: sometimes the pages are just drowning in dialogue and other forms of exposition, and talking heads don’t usually make for engaging comics, particularly in what’s supposed to be a space opera. Still, much of the information is needed and engaging in its own right…

Intrigued? Then look next Thursday for Part III continuing this look back at the legionnaires of Nomad Squadron.

Think back to the Mos Eisley cantina scene in Star Wars – remember the wide variety of aliens and creatures inhabiting the bar, drinking away their worries while chilling out to the jazzy tunes of the Modal Nodes? Of course you do – it’s one of the most iconic scenes Lucas gave us in the film. Now imagine that that collection of “scum and villainy” (judgmental much, Ben?) has been recruited into a universal peace-keeping force, and must work together as a unit despite their different backgrounds to survive the rigors of interstellar combat. Intrigued? Well, have I got a series for you:

Back in 1983, Carl Potts, a writer for Marvel’s imprint company Epic Comics, along with Alan Zelenetz and Frank Cirocco, created The Alien Legion, a series that would see two incarnations and a few one-shots over the next couple decades. Imagined as the “French Foreign Legion in space”, the squad was initially planned to be all-human, but fortunately Potts rethought the concept as it was being developed, allowing for the conglomeration of humans and aliens that would comprise Force Nomad. This series would result in some very memorable characters and a series that I’d really like to see make a comeback.

What will follow over the next week or so is an introduction to some of the members of Force Nomad, and a look back at their adventures as found in volumes one and two of The Alien Legion.  Look for Part II on Thursday.

I think it is safe to say that everyone here at the DP is a huge fan of Joss Whedon’s Buffy the Vampire Slayer (you could actually end this sentence after “Whedon.”)   Most of us here watched it during its original run, and several of us own the complete series on DVD (myself included).

Sarah Michelle Gellar . . . Sigh.

What can I say?  Watching a hot girl (SMG, please contact me when you realize Prinze is not worthy of you) kill vampires, demons, and assorted nasties was a weekly treat, and the supporting cast wasn’t too bad either.  (Alyson Hannigan, Charisma Carpenter, Felicia Day: we’re all thinking of you.  And some of us maybe David Boreanaz.  But not me.)

Needless to say, we were all somewhat disappointed when its run ended in 2003, but by that time Joss apparently just had to move on to other things.  So when it ended, where were we to get our fix of such supernatural entertainment?  [See what I did there?]

Three years later, Supernatural debuted.  I have been a fan of the show since it started.  Now that it is about to begin its fifth season (Season Premiere on September 10, mark your calendars), I am prepared to offer an opinion that just might get me kicked off the DP:

Sam and Dean Winchester FTW

Supernatural is better than Buffy.

Yes, I said it.  Even if the leads are two guys as opposed to SMG.

Now I am not going to offer here a detailed analysis of the ways Supernatural is the superior show, but I will state that it fundamentally comes down to one of tone.   While Supernatural has a healthy dose of humor (see, e.g., Season 4’s episode “Horror Movie”),  it takes a far darker view of the underworld, heavens, and humanity.   By comparison, Buffy, as much as we enjoyed it, lapsed into the goofy too often.

I still remember Buffy fondly.  But Supernatural, week in and week out, has shown how a drama dealing with angels, demons, and the pending apocalypse needs a darker edge than that found in Sunnydale.

Listen to this:

Now, if you’re anything like me, you can’t listen to this beautiful piece of music without thinking of this:

Or try listening to Wagner’s “Ride of the Valkyries” without thinking of this:

During my formative years I watched a lot of Merrie Melodies cartoons, and while Bugs and Daffy will always hold a special place in my heart (if you don’t know how to respond when I say “Wabbit season!” I can’t be friends with you), Chuck Jones and his crew absolutely ruined me on classical music.  I often wonder what it would be like to listen to  Strauss’ “Blue Danube”, and not automatically think of Bugs slapping Elmer Fudd, or not immediately associate Franz Von Suppe’s “Morning, Noon and Night in Vienna” with Bugs Bunny conducting an orchestra. I suppose I should be fair and say it’s not all Mr. Jones’ fault: “The Lone Ranger” ruined Rossini’s “William Tell Overture” for me, and I can’t hear Beethoven’s “Ode to Joy” without thinking of Nakatomi Plaza.  But still, it was those Saturday morning cartoons that led me to connect so many pieces of music with animation – and today those hi-jacked works are the only classical music I’ve ever bought.  Hell, I even bought Bugs Bunny on Broadway.

One of the few classical music CDs I own

Because the Merrie Melodies cartoons are no longer being aired on Saturday mornings, I don’t believe my daughters will have this problem, and honestly I’m a little jealous of them in that respect.  My older daughter takes piano, and I eagerly await the day she’ll be able to play even a simplified piece of Strauss’ “Danube”, and be able to ask her what the music brings to mind for her.  Maybe even get an idea of what Strauss himself intended.

I know it won’t be Daffy Duck.

Munich is awesome. Or, perhaps, Munich is killing me by slowly destroying my liver. I haven’t decided which yet.

For the sake of brevity, my stay in Munich will be broken into two parts, each encompassing three days of my trip.

I should probably explain that beer is so prevalent here that even in convenience stores a simple bottle of lukewarm water can cost upwards of €1, Coke costs about the same, and a cold beer can be had for €0,69. Is it any wonder why I’m drinking beer by the half-liter? Also, please understand that all of these beers put even my favorite American microbrews to shame, and even if I tell you that they’re not the best of the best, they’re all pretty darned good.

My long-held ideal of beer perfection.

I arrived in Munich on Wednesday night, and immediately returned to a cafe where I’d had dinner about five years earlier, not far from Marienplatz. The beer of choice: half a liter of Franziskaner Hefe-Weisse. Now, I consider a fresh Franziskaner to be pretty much the top of the line in the Munich hefeweizen department. For the uninitiated, hefeweizens tend to be light in color, sweet with no bitterness, and with distinct undertones of banana, clove, vanilla and sometimes even a vaguely bubblegum flavor. This one was just as good as I remembered.

On Thursday, I opted to branch out. At lunch at Viktualienmarkt, the Munich farmer’s market, I had bratwurst and Hochzeits Weisse. These people have been brewing beer since Columbus was wandering around the Caribbean looking for India. Good beer, crisp and clean, but without the fruitiness and depth that I get from the Franziskaner. I also had the most interesting sauerkraut at this little cafe, made with caraway seeds, juniper berries and bay leaves, but that’s another story for another time, when and if I ever find a recipe for it.

Thursday night’s dinner was Krombacher Weisen. This was a good beer, excellent flavor and that hint of clove that I’ve come to expect. But it also had a bit of a bite to it, and not the characteristic smoothness that I tend to expect from a hefeweizen.

Friday brought with it a side trip to Salzburg, Austria. I had lunch while sitting at an outdoor cafe that’s built into Hohensalzburg Castle, high above the city and overlooking the stark Austrian mountains. It was there that I had the Stiegl Weizen Gold Dunkel. Stiegl has been brewing beer since 1492, and they know their stuff. Similar to a hefeweizen, the dunkelweizen gets its color from roasted or caramelized malts, giving it a deeper, roasted flavor.

Friday dinner was a two-part event: I began with the Hacker-Pschorr Hefe-Weisse, which may actually rival my beloved Franziskaner for top spot on my Bavarian beer list. These folks have been brewing beer since the early 1400s, and the effort is nothing short of spectacular. If I could get away with it, I’d dump the contents of my suitcase and fill it with nothing but this. Smooth, drinkable, refreshing and flavorful, it’s everything you could want in a beer.

Part two was a mistake. At a colleague’s recommendation, I tried a Monschof Kellerbier. It’s really well-reviewed, which just goes to show why there are a billion different kinds of beer out there. Personally, I hated it and didn’t even finish it. Too malty and bitter for my liking, or perhaps it was just the fact that it was coming on the heels of one of my favorite beers, and couldn’t live up to it.

Stay tuned for part 4, the continuation and conclusion of my Munich adventure.

If you’re joining us late, please read my reviews for the first part of my trip here.

On to Berlin and the seemingly blinding array of choices that confronted me at my local biergarten. It appears that as the main city in Germany, Berlin has adopted every regional beer and put them on the largest beer menus I’ve ever been faced with. Every meal was a daunting challenge.

The beer was a lot like the label: classic, but uninspired.

At dinner in Potsdamer Platz, I opted for a Schofferhofer hefeweizen. I’m a big fan of hefeweisen, but this one didn’t really inspire like some others that I’ve tried. The aroma of clove and banana was there, but there was an underlying almost bread-like heaviness to the wheat.

As a side note, I feel that it’s my public duty to share instructions on the proper hefeweisen pour. What makes a hefe a hefe is the yeast in the bottle, which of course must be transferred to the glass. To achieve a proper pour, tip the glass and gently pour about 2/3 of the bottle in, minimizing the head. Stop. Swizzle the bottle around to capture all of the yeast. Pour about half of the remaining beer into the glass. Repeat the swizzle and pour. There you will have the perfect hefeweisen. You’re welcome.

On my second night in Berlin, I was encouraged to have dinner at a tiny burrito shop near Alexanderplatz, one that was surprisingly good, given the distance from Mexico. Yet the beer selections were abysmal. I was in Germany. Did they seriously expect me to drink Dos Equis or Corona? The answer, sadly, was yes. And then I discovered a lone Tannenzaepfle in the case. German beer for the win!

Stay tuned as I move on to Munich where my favorite beer awaits: Franziskaner Weissbier.

So many careers owed to the man . . .

An icon of we Procrastinators died on Thursday:  John Hughes, writer/director of many of the most formative movies of our youth, passed away at the entirely-too-young age of 59 as a result of a heart attack.

Hughes’ catalog of films is astounding.  Consider the following streak of the 80s:

“National Lampoon’s Vacation” (1983)

“Sixteen Candles” (1984)

“The Breakfast Club” (1985)

“Weird Science” (1985)

“Ferris Bueller’s Day Off” (1986)

“Planes Trains and Automobiles” (1987)

“The Great Outdoors” (1988) [Hey, I liked the raccoons, dammit.  They killed.]

“Uncle Buck” (1989)

Each is a classic in its own right; not only are they funny as hell, but they had heart.  As a result, each became a staple of our upbringings here at the DP.  Admit it:  you still stop down for the battle between Ferris and Dean Rooney (couldn’t have been him, could it?)

Of course, not all of his stuff are classics (at least in our mind . . . let’s hope it wasn’t him who sold his soul to inflate the grosses on Home Alone).  But we won’t dwell on that or his infliction of young McCauley Caulkin on the movie-going public.   Instead, we here suggest you have your own Hughes marathon this weekend and reminisce about the part of your formative years that just died.

Science is more than your seventh grade teacher droning on about nematodes.  Science can be funny, and NCBI ROFL is proof.  Rectal salami.  The correlation between ass size and penis length.  Dolphin tattoos.  The possibilities are endless.

Read and enjoy.

Greetings, procrastinators! I write to you from a cozy little apartment in central Munich, my first contact with the Internet since leaving the US. I can assure you that, as promised, I’ve been working hard on my quest to consume and review a variety of authentic German brews.

My trip began in Baden-Baden, a charming and well-preserved resort town in a cozy little corner of Germany, near the French border. I’m told that the town managed to avoid destruction in WWII because the French had plans for annexation and wanted to keep it intact. I was visiting some friends in the area and was exposed to two local brews: Rothaus Tannenzaepfle and Rothaus Radler Zaepfle. Rothaus is the brewery of the Baden region, cranking out beers since the late 1700s.

Tannenzaepfle translates to "pine cone."

The Tannenzaepfle – the name reflecting the pine cone on the label – is a classic pilsener brewed according to the Reinheitsgebot, or German Purity Law. While I tend to not be a big fan of pilseners because of their hoppy bitterness, the Tannenzaepfle was clear and refreshing, with a clean finish.

The Radler Zaepfle is one of the more bizarre finds. In a country that obsesses over beer purity, this one is a mix of beer and lemonade. I’m told that it’s fairly new to the Rothaus lineup, creating a pre-bottled product for something that people were already doing themselves at their table. I can’t say that I’m a big fan. Oh, I can appreciate the reasoning behind it, but as a girl who doesn’t even like to add lime to her Corona, lemonade and beer is just too much of a leap for me.

I also experienced the Lowenbrau Premium Pils. Now, let’s be straight up here: this isn’t the crap that was brewed by Miller and marketed under the same name. This is real German beer. It’s served with a two-inch head and has a distinct aroma of both citrus and hops. It’s a pilsener, so it’s not going to be my favorite of all time, but it had a crisp, refreshing taste that offset the pilsener bitterness, and made it a good complement to a meal of sausage and kraut.

Stay tuned for Part 2, my adventures in Berlin!