Doorbusters 2019

Well, look at you, lined up outside a big box retailer at 5 a.m. on Black Friday, waiting for that deal on a TV. And look at you, thinking you’re even smarter, in line at a store that opens before last call even happens. And then there’s all of you, thinking you’re the most smartest of all, getting your doorbuster deals on Thanksgiving before the turkey is even carved.

Black Friday sales starting on Thanksgiving: How quaint.

I’ll be at the secret department store that started offering Black Friday sales last July. In fact, this store is so ahead of the curve in offering deals that I’ve already done my shopping for Christmas 2019.

How does this work? This secret store is able to bend the rules of the space-time continuum to offer me deals on presents and technologies that won’t even exist until the holiday shopping season of 2019. I am not legally permitted to reveal the name or location of this store. It may not even have a “location” in any sense that we understand. Don’t ask me how any of this is possible. I’m not a scientist.

I’ve taken advantage of this time travel to buy a 75-inch Android Tactile TV with nanobot tesseract technology. Not sure what all that is? That’s because it doesn’t exist yet. Luckily, I’ve already purchased mine while the rest of you rubes will be fighting with each other on regular Black Friday 2019 to get yours. In five years, we’ll be watching the news reports of the shopping chaos from our blindingly clear, fridge-sized TV, with the coverage interrupted by a special statement from President Cain about the scandal with Secretary Kardashian-Cumberbatch.

I’ve also picked up a MechaTech AquaBot 217 for little Timmy. He hasn’t even been born yet, but he will be, and on Christmas morning 2019, his parents will be helping put five RR ethanol batteries into the hottest toy of the decade. Good luck waiting in line outside the Wal-Mart in five years, trying to kill time in the blizzard while playing Whack-a-Pundit on your aPhones.

Then there’s all the deals on clothing. My loved ones will be clothed in fashion trends that are not even a glimmer in Vogue’s eye: Ear veils, the BoxerThong, lenticular blouses, time-release acetaminophen hats and shoes from the Fault in Our Stars II: Stage IV Teen Romance collection.

And the best part of doing my shopping five years ahead of time? I pay for it with money that doesn’t even exist yet (a new twist on an old American tradition). Don’t ask me how it works. I’m not an economist.

So good luck with the “early” doorbusters, suckers. With my shopping done five years ahead of time, I think I’ve earned the right to a little smugness.

Watching 'American Horror Story' makes me feel like I'm wasting my life

I’m all for fun time-wasters (like this blog). I’ll watch a stupid movie. I’ll take a quiz and post the results on Facebook. But every week, I increasingly feel like American Horror Story: Freak Show is God’s weekly signal that I really do need to make a change in my life because I’m wasting so much of it by watching this kind of shit on TV.

I liked the first season (except for that sad sack actress whose name I’m too lazy to Google) and through some mental gymnastics was able to justify the ridiculousness of Asylum. Except for Frances Conroy, I didn’t care for Coven. But this season (Shit Show, as we subtitle it) with the carnies takes the cake. It’s repetitive, incoherent and just plain stupid. I really can’t think of another, more elegant word for it than stupid. Ryan Murphy is just throwing a bunch of crap at the wall and very little of it is sticking.

Last week I had really had enough. It was a boring episode that ended with something awful: the murder of Ma Petite. I suppose the character is an adult but her size and temperament make the viewers think of a child so basically, a guy broke a little girl’s neck on screen. The strong man killed the most defenseless character. I would rather not have seen that.  

I don’t even know why the strong man had to kill Ma Petite. I’m kind of in and out of the show but didn’t he only do that because Stanley blackmailed him for seeing him in that gay bar? They were both at the gay bar so couldn’t the strong man just blackmail Stanley back? Isn’t killing a person the size of a toddler too high a price to pay no matter what the alternative? Anyway, at least I got a few laughs out of seeing the Amazon kick his ass.

Lobster Boy also doesn’t make sense to me. Having four fingers fused into two really isn’t that bad a deformity (especially compared to people like Paul with the seal arms) and even though some people in the ‘50s weren’t the most enlightened, some of those people were and would not have run screaming from him. Wearing oven mitts in a dark bar just draws more attention to his hands than just walking around like normal. At least he dropped the attitude about Meep dying after realizing that Lobster Boy effectively killed him by not surrendering after he killed a cop.

I couldn’t stand that killer clown. I didn’t find him scary whatsoever. I think Murphy just figured, “Hey, clowns are scary so there’s no need for me to write a script. Just stand there and glower and the audience will scream.” I had zero sympathy upon learning his backstory. Yeah, it was sad that the other carnies falsely accused him of being a pedophile. But you know what, a lot of awful things happen to people and the real test of character is how we deal with them. Twisty the Clown dealt with his tragedy by kidnapping a bunch of kids and killing their parents. I just can’t bring myself, even in fiction, to think a sad past mitigates serial murder, either morally or legally.

This season should be subtitled Poor Coping Skills because no matter how outsiders treat them, some of these carnies are awful people who have done the most damage to their own community. We could also subtitle it Assholes With Disabilities.

Frances Conroy was by far the best thing about Coven but she’s the one of the worst things about Freak Show. She just stands around and shrieks at her son across the dining room table. I have no use for the son and only enjoyed his performance because it facilitated Matt Bomer getting near-naked on camera. That was far and away the highlight of the season for me.

Kathy Bates is abysmal in this. Her Baltimore grand mal seizure accent is impenetrable and I can’t even hear what she says anymore. I can only hear the accent so it makes me laugh even when she’s trying to say something serious. She should be embarrassed by her performance.

And yet I have watched half a season of this bullshit, complaining the whole time, like a diner who eats half a steak and then wants to send it back to the kitchen for being overcooked. We watch because there’s nothing else on Thursday nights when we catch this on-demand. I’ll probably give in and keep watching just because I need a laugh or a hate watch.

But I’ll feel terrible the whole time. I really need to figure out why I’m wasting my life like this. I really need some kind of change to make my life, or at least Thursday nights, more meaningful. Maybe while American Horror Story is on downstairs, I’ll go to the bedroom and sing “Man in the Mirror” into the mirror. Make that change.

Is Wolverine really dead?

Nah. He’s just too valuable a property for Marvel to kill off for good. We will probably see a break from Wolverine for awhile but then he’ll return to a breathless chorus of marketing materials. See, this is what decades of cynicism does to a person.

I think we could use a break from the former James Howlett for a little while. Wolverine has been overexposed for 20 years. He’s a member of both the X-Men and the Avengers and carries his own solo title. The joke in comics has been that one of his superpowers is being able to serve on every superteam simultaneously. Since the ‘90s, Marvel has been putting Wolverine on the cover of unrelated books due to the associated sales bump.

At the risk of sounding like some hipster, I liked Wolverine back in the ‘80s before he was as cool as he is now. I enjoyed the hint of mystery to his character and the relative restraint. Logan was a man who would kill when necessary but who was valiantly struggling against his more murderous instincts. I read that in the ‘70s, it was a shock to see Wolverine kill a guard off panel. Today there’s a cemetery-sized body count.

At the very least, Wolvie could use a power reduction. Years ago, he could take a punch due to his healing factor, but the punch might still stagger him. He nearly died from poisoning in the classic X-Men #172-73, letting Rogue absorb his healing factor to save her life from a gunshot wound. In the original “Days of Future Past,” a Sentinel fried the skin right off him, leaving an adamantium skeleton. There was suspense in seeing just how much he could take.

Since then, Wolverine has been able to regenerate his body from one drop of blood. He has survived Magneto ripping out his adamantium skeleton. He regenerates his eyes without much trouble. He’s pretty much immortal.

There have been efforts to curb this. In the early ‘90s, Chris Claremont was playing with the idea that Logan’s healing factor was breaking down and it was getting harder and harder to heal. He had taken such a beating over the decades that his body was just shot and the idea was apparently going to be that he would permanently die. Then Claremont left X-Men and Wolverine inched closer and closer to being invulnerable.

I’m fine with Wolverine. He was an indelible part of my childhood comics reading. I just could stand not hearing “Snikt!” for a bit. His death scene looked poetic, with him succumbing as a wave of liquid adamantium washed over him and solidified. This is certainly susceptible to a comics loophole that would bring him back. Who knows? If Jean Grey can stay dead for over a decade, maybe Wolverine will too and they will finally consummate their inconvenient passion in mutant heaven.

Haters Gonna Hate Hate HaAAAAAAUUUUUGGGHHHhhhkk

I know I’ve expressed this sentiment before but it’s arisen in my mind again because lately I’ve been waking up to Taylor Swift’s “Shake It Off” (“haters gonna hate hate hate”) because the radio station plays it at the same time every morning:

We need to eradicate the phrase “haters” from our society as if it were polio.

I don’t hate the song “Shake It Off” or Swift because hating would imply that I care. I just can’t stand the vacuous phrase “haters gonna hate.” Saying “haters gonna hate” (or “haters gon’ hate” because we even need to make slang out of a word that is already slang) is another way of saying “I refuse to muster any self-reflection when faced with legitimate criticism.”

When someone criticizes something, it might not just be blind hate. The critic might have a well-reasoned critique. I might not like the melody of a song or find the instrumentation abrasive, for example. Responding to that with an automatic “haters gonna hate” is just an ignorant, immature way to engage with that criticism. Find a thoughtful response that addresses the actual criticism rather than basically saying “Talk to the hand.” It’s just … stupid is the only way to really describe it.

Certain artists are very susceptible to the “haters” response to criticism. Swift gets a lot of it and Adele and Beyonce seem to get a lot of it, too. It’s like with certain performers, there can be no dissent. These people perform on TV or release a new single and you get these embarrassingly rapturous reviews the next day like “Queen Bey wins the Internet now and until the end of eternity” or “Adele’s latest breakup ballad is everything and will make you cry like a colicky infant.” Nothing against these artists but the adoring slobber is a little much. Dial it back. I love Madonna but I can acknowledge that some people have legitimate reasons for not liking her music and I won’t automatically dismiss them. We can coexist.

No artist or artwork is above criticism. Some people do offer stupid critiques of a performer’s body of work but it’s misplaced entitlement to dismiss all criticism with the dimwitted phrase “haters gonna hate.” The song “Shake It Off” is very efficient at responding to haters. Before, Swift would wait until after someone criticized her to write a song responding. Now, the response comes as part of the song itself. If you don’t like something she’s doing, you don’t have a point; there’s something wrong with you. It’s pre-emptive defensiveness.

Is there too much Christmas or not enough?

I can’t tell anymore. Each side of the debate seems to disprove the other.

On one side are the people who believe Christmas is dying. We need to save Christmas! The cashier at Target wished me “Happy Holidays” and I foamed at the mouth in outrage and when I got outside the moon had turned to blood because casual greetings from strangers that only imply a holiday but don’t explicitly state it are the signs of the apocalypse! Remember when America had traditional values, etc.

Christmas is always dying, as we see from the periodic stories from, for example, a school somewhere in America with the principal who changes “Christmas break” to “Midwinter break” or “Godless Communist holiday” or whatever I’m supposed to get my panties in a bunch about this week. Because if someone stops saying “Christmas” in well-meaning deference to people who opt out of the holiday, Christmas ceases to exist and you can’t celebrate it. It just poofs out of existence. Thus we take up our pitchforks and Defend Christmas, our outrage singing like a Christmas carol.

What disproves this argument is the fact that Christmas is everywhere. It gets its red and green in every crevice for three months every year. On Nov. 1, the Halloween candy disappeared from Acme and the Christmas stuff went up, because nobody can afford to waste a day in the quest for wrapping paper. Black Friday stores open while people are still eating Thanksgiving apple pie so people can buy discount electronics. The Hallmark Channel had a countdown to a countdown to Christmas. Even the countdown is something that needs hyping today.

This isn’t anything new, either. For years now, the airwaves have been full of Christmas TV specials and entire radio stations turn over their playlists so we can all be graced with the 2,357^th consecutive artist’s “personal take” on “White Christmas.” These are not the signs of a holiday that is disappearing. People get outraged that the hype starts earlier every year.

Or maybe it is the looming extinction of Christmas that we’re supposed to be outraged about. Maybe we’re supposed to celebrate the birth of the Prince of Peace while being completely combative and miserable about it.

Wake me up when there’s a ruling on this. I’ll be trying to relax with a glass of eggnog and playing Christmas songs while decorating our tree at a seasonally appropriate time.

Who is Captain Marvel?

The answer depends on what comic publisher you’re talking about and what time period you’re talking about. Fawcett Comics published the first Captain Marvel during the Golden Age. This was teenager Billy Batson, whom a bolt of lightning transformed into a being with godlike powers (speed of Mercury, etc.) when he spoke the name of the ancient wizard “Shazam!” Publication of the original character ceased at some point.

In 1967, Marvel Comics took advantage of the lapsed trademark and created their own character named Captain Marvel. He was the Kree alien warrior Mar-Vell who battled the alien Skrulls. He was an ally of the Avengers and appeared in many Marvel cosmic stories. For a time, he was confined to the Negative Zone but by banging his Nega Bands together on his wrists, he could exchange places with Rick Jones, the former Hulk groupie, who would then take Mar-Vell’s place in the Negative Zone. This Captain Marvel succumbed to cancer in the early ‘80s.

Meanwhile, DC had bought the Fawcett characters and wanted to revive its Captain Marvel but Marvel’s use of the name prohibited this. Ever since, DC has been allowed to publish Captain Marvel as a character but cannot publish a book with the Captain Marvel name. Instead, all his adventures are under the title Shazam. (Contrary to popular belief, the character’s name was never Shazam; that is the name of the wizard Billy Batson invokes to transform. I believe DC has now given up and changed the character’s name to Shazam but this makes no sense because anytime Billy Batson says his alter ego’s name, lightning will strike him and transform him.)

For that reason, Marvel is compelled to constantly publish a character named Captain Marvel to hold onto the copyright of the name. That is why immediately after Mar-Vell died, Monica Rambeau claimed the name. She had nothing to do with the Kree but was a woman from New Orleans who could transform into any form of energy. The second Captain Marvel served the Avengers for years in the ‘80s and became team leader. She later took the code name Photon, then Pulsar. She is now known as Spectrum and is on an Avengers team.

For a few years, various Mar-Vell’s family members held the title Captain Marvel. That brings us to the current title holder, fan favorite Carol Danvers. She debuted in the late ‘60s as an Air Force officer who later edited Woman magazine. In the ‘70s, she received Kree DNA, which gave her strength, flight and a “seventh sense” for danger, and took the name Ms. Marvel, wearing a flashy costume with a lightning bolt and red sash. She starred in her own title and was an Avenger.

Ms. Marvel’s time with the team ended in a controversial story in Avengers #200. She had been abducted to another dimension and seduced by Marcus, the son of time-traveler Kang. Marcus impregnated Ms. Marvel, who went through pregnancy in a matter of days and gave birth to a being who was somehow Marcus himself, as a way for him to enter our dimension. Carol spent much of the story traumatized, not knowing how she got pregnant and unwilling to have a baby. Weird, right? Not as weird as how the Avengers reacted. Ms. Marvel ended up going to limbo with Marcus and appeared to live happily ever after with him. The Avengers let her go.

A few months later, Carol turned up on Earth in Avengers Annual #10. She had been attacked by Rogue in the latter’s short-lived villain days and Rogue had permanently absorbed Carol’s powers and memories. While working with Professor Xavier to repair the damage to her psyche, Carol told off the Avengers, reminding them that Marcus had raped her, impregnated her and brainwashed her into going with him — and the team questioned none of it. Chris Claremont apparently wrote that as a response when so many people were upset by Jim Shooter’s original story.

Xavier helped Carol recover her memories but she had no emotions attached to them so she could remember her parents but felt no love for them. The memory theft was also a kind of torture for Rogue, who was never sure which thoughts and memories were her own and which were Carol’s. The two had a memorable conflict when Carol returned to the X-Mansion, found Rogue joining the X-Men and punched her in the face, knocking Rogue into the stratosphere.

Carol spent much of the ‘80s running around in space with the Starjammers, extraterrestrial allies of the X-Men. Known as Binary, she had the ability to tap into the energies of a star. Over time, this power diminished and she got her memories back from Rogue. When the Avengers reorganized in the late ‘90s, she was an easy choice for membership, using the name Warbird.

However, it didn’t last long as Carol’s drinking (never before alluded to as far as I remember) got out of control. She botched a mission while drunk, endangering lives, and quit the team before the Avengers could court martial her. She sobered up and rejoined, and has since become a stalwart of the team. Along the way, she even faced down the demons of her ordeal with Marcus.

Giving Carol the title Captain Marvel was long overdue and giving her a movie is also a great move (just cast Katie Sackhoff now). She’s earned both those things.

Old Brown Shoe

I am notoriously cheap when it comes to buying shoes. I buy the cheapest shoes I can find and only after my previous shoes are completely shot. I will go years without buying shoes. Payless is too rich for my blood.

So when one of my brown dress shoes started falling apart, I looked briefly at shoes at Famous Footwear but they were too expensive (nothing under $30). I quickly got aggravated and left. It didn’t help that I can’t stand going shopping and not finding what I want and having to go somewhere else. This happens every year at Christmas. I shop as much as possible online but once in awhile, I think, “Maybe it would be nice to get out of the house.” Then I don’t find what I need in several stores and have to run around. Cannot. Stand.

With my mission a failure, I channeled my Depression-era forbearers and Krazy Glued the sole of the shoe. It was worth a shot and if it fell apart, I was only out a few bucks instead of all that money for shoes. The shoe lasted a day that way and fell apart when I got home. It ended up worse than it was before. At least it didn’t break during the workday so I wasn’t just staggering around like an idiot.

Now I’m annoyed at Krazy Glue. All those years they ran that commercial where the construction worker glued his helmet to an I-beam and stayed attached. And I couldn’t even glue a shoe together for more than eight hours? Class action lawsuit.

I don’t even know if I need brown shoes since black goes with more so I’m waiting for now. I just don’t care what’s on my feet. I won’t wear something ugly but owning nice brand name shoes is meaningless to me. Shoes are utilitarian. The only shoes I have now are two pairs of black dress shoes, sneakers and running shoes. They’ve all seen better days but I’m hoping to hang on a little longer. They were all cheap. My sandals finally fell apart at the end of the summer so I got rid of them. Maybe I should have tried to staple them back together.

Completely Devastated

One day recently I just couldn’t get out of bed. I just lay there moaning and crying, plummeting further down into a black hole of despair. I explored how low the human soul can truly go, spelunking into an inner cavern of horrors. I couldn’t even make it to the phone to call out of work. The alarm was buzzing continuously, a soundtrack to my abject misery.

Why was I in such a state? I had no idea until yesterday, when I dragged myself to the laptop to read an article in Time on “The Real Reason We’re Devastated About Benedict Cumberbatch’s Engagement” (http://tinyurl.com/kthkely ).

Thank God for Time, right? I have always turned to the magazine to illuminate the world so in the midst of my despondency, I looked for some sort of study or scientific evidence that could help me overcome my problems and become a better person. I found something even better: an article that perfectly encapsulates the feelings of millions of Americans. The best part is how the headline indicates “we,” like she’s speaking for all Americans — and she is, judging by the number of depressed people I’ve been seeing. This is the most incisive look at our zeitgeist since Tina Brown wrote that landmark article on why Americans needed Chelsea Clinton’s wedding to cheer us up.

The headline was spot-on because I realize now that the news of Cumberbatch’s engagement has completely devastated me. I feel like London after the Blitz. Even though I don’t think I’ve ever seen any of Cumberbatch’s movies, I howl in despair with thoughts that he is to be wed. Even though I couldn’t have picked him out of a lineup before reading the article (and now that I see him, he’s not attractive to me at all), I am in a spiral of sadness just knowing that he is off the market.

My hope is that I can pick up the pieces of my life and start again.

NOOOOORRRRRRMMMCOOOORRRRRRE!

Today at work I’m wearing gray pants and a blue dress shirt. Yesterday I worked from home and I wore Old Navy jeans and a long-sleeve green shirt. This weekend I might go nuts and wear a sweater. You might look at what I’m wearing and conclude that I look like … a person. But it’s much more complicated than that. I have discovered that I’m part of the Normcore movement. It sounds better if you scream it in a guttural voice like a member of a death metal band:

NOOOOORRRRRRMMMCOOOORRRRRRE!

If codifying “wearing regular clothes” into the trend of Normcore is a joke, it’s a funny way to mock style sections and trend articles that have to label everything that happens as part of a movement. But if someone seriously coined the term to define people who dress that way, it’s stupid. It’s also not new. People have always dressed plainly for various reasons: not caring, cost, not liking flashy clothes.

That’s why the idea of Normcore, if it’s serious, baffles me. People don’t dress this way to fit into some kind of subculture, like wearing punk or hippie clothes. It’s just … regular people who have utilitarian purposes for clothing. It’s not a “thing” for people.

I care about how I look (like, not wearing pajama pants in public) but not enough to spend a ton of money. I prefer a simpler look, with simple patterns and some bold colors sometimes. I stay away from visible labels at all costs because if you go overboard on displaying logos, you look very nouveau riche and your clothes will go out of fashion at some point. I just like having clothes that might stay somewhat timeless since I’m cheap and although I’ve lately been expanding my wardrobe, I don’t like shopping, so I keep it to a minimum.

That’s my big fashion philosophy. I don’t dress according to identity politics. I look this way because Kohl’s was having a sale.

Why are comic readers so excited about the Black Panther movie?

The Black Panther was one of the heroes that Marvel announced will get his own movie in the next few years. He has been a member of the Avengers on and off since the ‘60s, so he was one of the team members the movies needed to introduce at some point. The concept art for the movie looks exactly like he’s depicted in comics so it’s a promising sign that the movie will be accurate.

Introduced in the pages of the Fantastic Four in 1966, the Black Panther was one of the earliest members of the Avengers to join after the founding members started leaving and is also the earliest black superhero in mainstream comics. Through a mystic totem, he has powers including acute senses, enhanced speed and Olympic-level athletic abilities. He is also a scientific genius, having invented the Avengers’ Quinjets.

The Black Panther’s real name is T’Challa and he is the king of the fictional African nation of Wakanda. This makes him a major player in the politics of the Marvel Universe. Wakanda has advanced technology and is rich with natural deposits of vibranium, the metal that pops up over and over again in Marvel in Captain America’s shield and other weapons. Wakanda appears to be a mostly isolationist nation.

T’Challa served the Avengers on and off for decades in real time and also popped up in other series, including a solo book. As one of the world leaders of the Marvel Universe, he is also a member of the world-shaping Illuminati. His adventures have also brought him into recent conflict with Namor, who attacked Wakanda while powered up by the Phoenix Force, drowning many people.

T’Challa also married Storm but had the marriage annulled for some reason. Can’t Ororo get a break in the love department? Aside from her brief marriage and a dalliance with Forge (and the admiration of villains including Loki, Doctor Doom and Dracula), she hasn’t had much going on. The woman is strong, intelligent, a great leader, nurturing and very powerful. She’s a catch.

No, the Black Panther has nothing to do with the Black Panther party. The character debuted shortly before the group formed.