I need to make two things clear before I continue. The first is that I have been an almost-lifetime fan of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (I say almost because I was released before they were). I watched the original cartoon show, have collections of the first comics, littered my room with toys and little brown swords, etc. From the time I first discovered them until way past the point I should have let them go, they were a major part of my life.

The second point I’d like to make is that I’m neither defending nor condemning Michael Bay. In fact, I’m not even taking a stand on the movie itself. Unlike some people on the internet, I don’t have the magic power to know how a movie that is still in pre-production will eventually turn out and am likewise unqualified to review a film that is literally just words and sketches on paper at this time.

Let’s get into the big concerns, shall we?

THE INTEGRITY OF THE FRANCHISE

A concern I’ve heard expressed is that the changing of the origin will somehow impact the integrity of the franchise because aliens are less plausible than pet turtles who can barely move around turning into ninjitsu-wielding man-turtles after a dousing with intergalactic ooze. For the sake of this piece, we’ll pretend that point of view makes enough sense to even justify discussing it.

TMNT started out as a joke when Kevin Eastman and Peter Laird combined Marvel’s New Mutants with the ninjas of Frank Miller’s Daredevil and Ronin works. This is evident in the original comics. It was a gag. But, like Dave Sim’s Cerebus started out as a parody of sword-and-sorcery comics like Conan, TMNT became something much greater. The comics took the Turtles from ancient times teaming up with other small-press characters to far-off intergalactic arenas fighting the Triceratons.

The first television cartoon series started in 1987. More than likely, this is the version of the Turtles with which you are most familiar. While the original comic book adventures were darker, more violent and all of our heroes had red headbands, this new spin simplified things for children. The vengeful, dangerous Shredder of the comics gave way to the James Avery-voiced minion of Krang. Their initials were added to their belts and each turtle was color-coded to make things easier for smaller attention spans. In short, nearly everything from the original comic series changed to make the cartoon possible and attractive to a wider audience. “The origin was never changed!” you scream. I shush you.

I’m going to assume this is about where you left things. Your last memories and, possibly, only memories of the franchise itself came from that original cartoon series (possibly also the original movies) and you’ll be darned if anything comes along to change that!

Here are some things you might have missed:

• A live-action TV series that introduced female turtle Venus De Milo
• A 2007 CGI film that struck a nice balance between the comics and original cartoon
• A movie in which they traveled in time back to Feudal Japan
• Another animated series in which the participated in a Mortal Kombat-style tournament and also traveled 100 years into the future
• An Image Comics series that saw half of Raphael’s face disfigured, Leonardo losing a hand and Donatello grafting with a robotic body after becoming paralyzed due to a shattered shell
• Action figures that cast them as everything from Transformers to superheroes (designed by Jim Lee, even!)
• A concert tour sponsored by Pizza Hut in which they performed songs like “Coming Out of Our Shells” and “Pizza Power”

Obviously the fandom that’s currently concerned about the future of the franchise was okay with all of these follow-up projects, right? Maybe I wasn’t paying attention, but I don’t recall seeing the petitions.

TRANSFORMERS

Interestingly enough, the loudest and whiniest opinions about Michael Bay don’t seem to match the success of his career. That seems a bit odd, doesn’t it?

Let’s assume that when Michael Bay started working on Transformers, you were hesitant but maybe a little excited. Then you started seeing the character designs and saying things like “Why does Optimus Prime have a mouth?” or “Why is Megatron so spiky?” I know I did. But I looked forward to it. And when I saw it, I had a great time. As an avid watcher of the original Transformers cartoon and collector of its toys, I didn’t find my love of the fandom affected at all. In fact, it brought back a long-dormant interest in action figures that transform (I bought over $150 worth of toys after seeing the movie) and I had a good time with it. Did I wince when Optimus Prime said “My bad” or when Bumblebee urinated oil on John Turturro? Sure. But a lot of people hated the whole movie and the entire experience. In fact, it only pulled in $710 million dollars.

Wait, that doesn’t seem right. Of course, the crowds all went in blindly and didn’t know how much they would dislike it. Clearly this would be a cautionary tale for whatever future sequels might come along. And, in fact, the second Transformers movie, Revenge of the Fallen, only brought in $836 millon. Hold on, that’s more.

It’s widely acknowledged that RotF was an inferior entry in the series. Even Michael Bay said so. With their faith shaken, savvy, angry audiences had said “Enough is enough, Michael Bay! These movies are terrible!” I think you know where I’m going with this. The third film made over a billion dollars.

You may complain about Michael Bay’s movies and methods and call him Lord Destructor of Childhoods (more on that nonsense shortly), but you watch his movies. And I know this because I see so many rabid complaints about so many specific moments in the flicks that there’s no way you haven’t. Some I have to take your word on because I didn’t see the second one. It looked silly and I’m an American human that can make his own choices about what films he sees. But you might’ve. And every ticket sold says “Please, sir, may I have some more? You’re doing it just right.”

YOUR CHILDHOOD

Michael Bay is not a time traveler. Unless you’re still a child (in which case you’ve certainly abandoned interest in this and moved on to something else), your childhood is over. It’s time-locked. It cannot change. The only impact your present life can have on your past life is if you stir up some repressed memories of wonderful or horrible things. And even then, there’s just the potential to change your perceptions of growing up. Everything that happened still happened and nothing short of an evil time-traveling director can change that.

If someone tears down your childhood home, your childhood still happened. Should your accountant parents suddenly become roving carnies wandering from town to town in search of thrills and funnel cake batter ingredients, they were still accountants the whole time you grew up. And if someone changes something about some characters you liked as a kid, YOUR CHILDHOOD IS FULLY INTACT. If a lack of change is so very important to you, know that the ways in which these fictional characters were initially presented to you still exist on DVD, in reprint comics and on eBay where all the action figures live that we don’t play with any more.

If you really, truly, incorrectly believe that the very fiber of your childhood is at risk when this movie exists, pretend it does not. Don’t see it. Don’t feed the machine. That is your right as a consumer. Skip it. I dare you to ignore it. There will be a three or four month burst where the commercials are on TV and the toys are in the Kids meals and the buzz is all a-buzzy. Ignore it and find something else to do. You’re stronger than marketing, right?

By the way…a moment about Robbie Rist, the actor who said Michael Bay was “sodomizing” the franchise by making the Turtles aliens and referred to Bay “raping our childhood memories.” (Robbie Rist, by the way, did the voice of Michelangelo in the three live-action movies and is also notable for playing Cousin Oliver, final nail in The Brady Bunch’s coffin.) As I stated, Robbie, if something in the present affects your memories from childhood, you need to reassess how seriously you take things. And if you’re willing to equate someone making a movie with a violent sexual crime, you immediately lose the right to be taken seriously yourself.

THE ORIGIN DOES NOT MATTER

There are several things about TMNT that are very important, but mostly it’s the feel. It’s the setup and the dynamic. It is not the origin. In fact, the origin itself is inconsistent depending on which media you follow. In the comics, it was a cannister of ooze created by a race of outer space brain creatures that bounced out of a truck. In the cartoon and movies, it was altered to be more terrestrial. Both of these ooze origins were incredibly important to the storylines that followed, but had no bearing on the characters (the characters themselves also vary from medium to medium, but whatever).

Look, you want green guys with shells who have ninja equipment. You want Raphael grumpy, Donatello nerdy, Michelangelo partying and Leonardo vanilla. These are things that may or may not happen in Michael Bay’s movie. In fact, the characters may wind up being regular turtles from Mars that land on Earth and get splashed with a mutagenic ooze. We don’t know any of these things. The most important part of this whole entertainment experience is the entertainment part. Will it be good and be handled respectfully?

I don’t know. And neither do you.

So shut up about it. Don’t fight it because it’s going to happen no matter how hurt your feelings are. If you’re still dissatisfied when it comes out, don’t see it. Read reviews. Ask a friend who saw it for his or her opinion. You can’t do anything about how it’s made, but you can make decisions about how you handle it once it is. If you’re not interested, don’t see it.

I dare you.

I first ventured into the world of Twitter in early February 2007. While I can no longer access those initial, tentative tweets, I assume they were insightful statements about the world around us and current events, not just an informal list of when I was hungry or needed to go to the bathroom.

Since that time, I’ve posted over 5,200 pieces of wisdom. I’m no math expert, but that comes out to an average of 230 posts a day for the last three years. That’s a lot of Twittery. That’s dozens of dozens of hours I’ve devoted to observations and quips and photos of ducks. String all that time together and I may well have lost an entire year of my life pecking away at my keyboard and greasing up the touchscreen on my iPhone.

I guess what I’m trying to say here is that you’re welcome. There’s a lot of sacrifice involved there. In fact, I’ve more than once considered outsourcing my Twittering. I even tried it for a while, but the creepy little man I hired to follow me around tweeting my important thoughts and events mainly just typed things like “HE HAZ NO PAAAANTS” or “HEY R U LOL?”. I had to let him go. I also had to let him get slapped by my hand.

At least I’m not expected to deal with inane trending and tracking for my Twitter feed. No, I leave that up to the professionals at sites like tweetstats.com. That’s how I learn facts like how my Tweet Density is greatest around Noon on Sundays BUT NOT SATURDAYS because then I tweet the most around 6PM. I also don’t tweet much at 5 AM in general. My top words used are apparently know, thats, time, good and going. This is likely because of a six month experiment in stand-up comedy style tweets that I did, all ending in “then you know THAT’S a good time to get going.” For instance, “When you set her cat’s fur on fire, you know THAT’S a good time to get going.” That experiment went about as far as my previous real world experiment, rockets powered by actual rocks. That is to say, it didn’t go very far.

How will Twitter be viewed in the future? Will subsequent generations view this as the beginning of an age of unprecedented access to information or the dawning of never-before-seen global self-involvement. Who cares? Listen, Twitter isn’t about yesterday or tomorrow or an hour from now or an hour ago. Twitter is about the moment and Twitter is about me, dammit. I’m not here to reply to your musings or retweet your attempts at jokes. I’m on Twitter to give you an up-to-the-very-second account of my minutiae and actions. Sandwich I just ate? Ham and cheese. Times gone to the bathroom today? 9 (back off, it was a cleansing day).

Twitter is about me, just like it is for 5 million other users.

The Dark Knight is currently poised to destroy every major box office record in the history of cinema. Having already smashed opening day and weekend records, the trends indicate it may overtake 1997′s Titanic as the high-grossing film of all time. This is an impressive feat for any movie, but my interest is held by the fact that it’s a Batman movie.

The concept of Batman has always had a place in pop culture, constantly reinventing and adapting itself. In the early comics, it was the darker approach of a regular guy righting wrongs from the shadows that caught the attention of a country already growing weary of the boy scout image portrayed by Superman and the characters he inspired. In the 1960s, there was the camp TV series that brought Batman and Robin to the public forefront with a take on the characters that would forever stain any serious discussion with “POW”s and “WHAM”s and “Holy this and that, Batman!” Counter to how the Dark Knight was portrayed in the original comics, this version provided a new lexicon for reporters to use when talking about anything related to comics (even now, as the public gets used to the darker, grimier version brought to us by Christopher Nolan). Tim Burton blended the dark and the camp in 1989′s Batman and 1992′s Batman Returns. The other pre-Nolan Batfilms don’t warrant mention (aside from their resaturation of the stains on the character’s image). The various Batman cartoons have all had their whack at the legend, most notably Batman: The Animated Series, a show that was kid- and fanboy-approved.

Batman, it seems, has always been around, forever adapting and changing. So why is it that The Dark Knight has risen to such mind-boggling heights? While ever-present, Batman has never been as popular or admired as the superheroes in brighter tights like Superman and Spider-Man. More than likely, The Dark Knight has set the world on fire based simply on the fact that it never lets itself act like a superhero movie. Unlike its predecessor Batman Begins, which only started acting like a comic book film when the big microwave bomb was headed into the heart of Gotham, The Dark Knight is a thriller, an action film, and a sociopolitical allegory wrapped into a tightly-weaved (yet needlessly long) film.

Batman Begins wasn’t without its own allegorical moments. A terrorist group (one that literally caused terror with a fear gas) using a public transportation method to crash down everything in mid-town Gotham? That story has been lived through, although admittedly with less Gary Oldman. But The Dark Knight sets itself up from the get-go. Batman is America (vascillating between its citizens and its government), the Joker is terror, the Underworld is the rest of the world. The Joker is wild, unpredictable, and impossible to reason with. Batman goes to extreme lengths (such as essentially wire-tapping the entirety of Gotham City) as way to restore order. At the same time, the ultimate symbol of hopeful justice, Harvey Dent, is corrupted along the way. Even the Joker’s creation, which we assume is a direct result of Batman’s presence in Gotham, rings of the true reasons behind the terror attacks we’ve faced in this country. In the end, we’re watching our world on screen for two and a half hours, played out with puppets in armor and purple suits.

The resolution, however, is ideal. And it’s the build to that resolution is what keeps people in their seats. Batman (America) catches the terrorist leader (The Joker) using his own means. He becomes reviled in the name of How It Should Be Done, but it’s for a good reason. As the credits roll, we see Batman in the perfect position. Safer yet still living by his own terms. He lost some things that were important to him, like his girl and the shining, scarred version of Justice represented by Harvey Dent. Are these losses acceptable? That’s to be determined in the final film of Nolan’s planned trilogy. One that will, no doubt, make another outlandish payday for those involved and hopefully frighten, entertain, and empathize with the American public. As long as it doesn’t suffocate itself in convoluted plots like Pirates 3 or Spider-Man 3, I think we’re in for another treat.

It’s still amazing to think that Batman will likely sit perched atop the list of film records, cape billowing in the wind. To a point it helps legitamize the industry of comic books, but it transcends that “genre” with such facility that it’s hard to even apply its success to its source. It would be great to see a reversal, in fact, and see some comics coming out that match The Dark Knight in its twisting plot-lines and solid, real-world characterization of unreal characters but using those elements unique to graphic storytelling to take it even farther. There are a few out there, but they are few and far between. The immediate thought is Watchmen, but even that is so grounded in the fantastic that it’s hard to compare.

What The Dark Knight teaches us is that source material and flash are irrelevant when you have a solid interpretation, a masterful storyteller, and the right amount of social resonance. I’m not saying I want to see a Superman movie fitting the same template, but The Dark Knight makes me crave more intensity in my moviegoing, not just in the action sense, but in the emotional and psychological. Tell me a story I already know, but do it in a format and a way I never knew could work so well. Teach me about myself and the world around me. Make me think and cringe and cheer all at once. The Dark Knight did it. And it’s going to be as much of a legend as Batman himself ever was.

But where did Tuesday come from? Is it as simple as you’d think or is it some Illuminati conspiracy to keep Norse gods away from the moon? In lieu of research or actual, reasonable thought, I’m going to speculate. After all, that’s how we figured out that dinosaurs were used as appliances and heavy machinery by the cavemen.

• THEORY ONE – THE NUMBER TWO
  “Tue” is a way to spell the word “two” if you can’t spell. With this in mind, consider that Tuesday is the second day of the week for people under the impression that the week starts on Monday. How does this tie into the word’s origins? Easily. The second day could be considered day number two. Or Tue, in this case. Just as Thursday was originally celebrated as Thor’s Day (another Norse God/Marvel Comics character), this could simply be a misspelling, intentional or otherwise. Perhaps some nefarious force is working against the proper use of words. Or maybe those making the naming decisions were rappers (although it could be argued it would like be more like 2Z-Day in that case).
• THEORY TWO – SCOTS
  As every human and/or werewolf knows, the beloved traditional Scottish dish haggis is made using a combination of ingredients disgustingly prepared inside an animal stomach. One of these ingredients is suet, a type of hard fat extracted from cows, lambs, and maybe giraffes. Suet is a rather common ingredient in other UK-area dishes such as spotted dick; this fact is irrelevant, but giggle-worthy. In the early days of day-name-creation, the Scottish weren’t in any way influential. With all of the good spots being snatched up by Nords and werewolves, the Scots wanted to cram themselves into the week. Knowing they couldn’t be too terribly overt, the Scots concealed their favorite ingredient in the words Tuesday by moving the letters in “suet” around to form “tues”.
• THEORY THREE – MONGOLS
  In 1220, Genghis Khan’s Mongol conquest (GK’S 1220 WORLD TOUR! WOOO!) led him to the quaint city of Tous, Iran. After enjoying a night in one of the city’s many comfortable bed and breakfasts, Mr. Khan pretty much destroyed the whole town with only a skateboard, bat, and an assortment of protective sports gear. There was also a small trampoline involved. All of this, you can imagine, happened on a Tuesday (which at that point was either known generally as Today, Tomorrow, or Yesterday). In order to commemorate the loss of Tous and its variety of antique shops (or, as they were known at the time, shops) and massage parlors, the Snords or werewolves sloppily turned Tous into Tues and stuck it into the week. Now that I think about it, it might not have been a spelling issue nearly as much as a penmanship problem. Perhaps they were just as sloppy at writing as they were creating deities (a mischief god? really?) and/or being kicked in the nards.
• THEORY FOUR – THE “TRUTH”
  According to Wikipedia, the Tuesday conspiracy breaks down to this: “The name comes from Middle English Twisday, from Old English Tiwes dæg, named after the Nordic god Tyr, who was the equivalent of the Roman war god Mars, and Greek god Ares.” The full article is here and the whole thing is as ridiculous as that first sentence would lead you to believe. Apparently this Tyr fellow was eventually squeezed out of popularity by a rising interest in Thor and Odin probably around 1962 when Thor made his first appearance in Marvel Comics’ Journey Into Mystery #83. This issue was brought to audiences by the Nord writer Stan Lee and werewolf artist Jack Kirby. Serving of conspiracy? I’ll have two.

So there you have it. A buffet of delicious theories with which to fill up your brain bowl. I look forward on hearing your theories as well as accepting your truth-uncovering awards (such as the Nosy and the Truthy). Also, if there’s an award for awesome, semi-obscure 80s movie references, I’ll be expecting that one as well.

b

Happy birthday, Jorge!

b

I could talk about the recent passings of Will Elder and Sydney Pollack, but I don’t have the energy. Also, it seems like all the posts I did for a while involved dead people and that’s not really what I want this place to become. I will say that Will Elder is a huge influence of mine and I wouldn’t be half the cartoonist I am if I hadn’t come across his early work for the Mad comic. Amazing, amazing stuff. And Sydney Pollack? What’s there to say? Amazing body of work. Both will be missed.

There are two new projects I’m working on right now that I’m excited about, but I don’t want to get into either of them until more work has been done. So that’s out. But my collaborators on these projects are awesome. There’s a third one, too, if I can squeeze out the time. That one should be a lot of fun as well.

I’ve never really gone into my personal personal life here and I’m not about to start, so there’s that.

I’ll find something. Everyday. No matter how minute.

Baby carrots are delicious.

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Of course, we haven’t nearly had the worst of it. With gigantic earthquakes and cyclones around the world lately, I suppose a little flooding and house-shaking thunder isn’t much to complain about. I think it all equals out to the fact that the planet is angry. Maybe because all the iPhones are sold out.

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I decided to check out the stats today. Wow. One of the statistics you can monitor is what people have typed into search engines to find your site. I like that part. It’s neat. But what I’m seeing on there now is straight-up unnerving. So much so that I’m issuing a warning. Everything from here on may contain gross and impolite words. You’ve been warned just now by my warning.

Here’s a list of the top 20 search queries used in the first week of May to find posts on my site along with my comments on each. This is where the fun starts.

• brandon carr
  This makes sense. I am Brandon Carr.
• black and mild
  I had a post that briefly mentioned Black and Milds, so this one makes sense. I guess. Its ranking on the list is bizarre, but traffic is traffic.
• brandon j carr
  Yes, this is also me. Good, good.
• venti black eye
  This obviously caught my post about how I order coffee drinks, which I enjoyed. I like how this is going.
• photos of my slut wife comments
  Naturally, this is…wait, what?
• homemade ink fountain pen
  Again, this is the entry about fountain pens and…photos of my slut wife? Comments? Really?
• filipina glory hole girls
  Holy crap. How this got around to my site I have yet to figure out. I’m hesitant to do the same search myself. Mainly because I have things to do and I’d probably wind up doing “deep research” on these poor Filipinas.
• steve guest cartoonist
  Okay…moving on. Yeesh. I think this one saw that I’d blogged about my guest strip for Beaver and Steve, a favorite comic of mine. Those poor girls.
• j brandon
  Close enough, I guess.
• computers internet blog
  How someone got to the ten billionth page or wherever I’m listed under “computers internet blog” is amazing. Good perseverance, guy or gal.
• weird adventures in unemployment
  My comic for Platinum Studios has been mentioned here several times. That makes sense. Okay, head’s starting to clear a little now.
• pencity coupon
  Again in reference to the fountain pen post. I had no idea that post would be so diversely found.
• dork stuff
  One of my categories on this blog is Dork Stuff and I tend to use it a lot because I’m a dork.
• bacon comic
  I don’t…recall doing a bacon comic. I drew some evil bacon for my profile over at ComicSpace, but that’s about it.
• dog knotted in pussy stories
  WHAT DOES THAT EVEN MEAN?!
• cum eating creampie goldenshower
  Now that’s just gross. I mean, the combination of those things. Handled separately I have no problem with. But mixed to…dog knotted…what the crap?
• joe brandon carr
  I have a good buddy named Joe. I wonder if he knows what that dog thing is all about. And WHY IT LINKED TO ME.
• low feathering fountain pen
  Fountain pens, yeah we get it. Man, I feel gross.
• free pictures teenage penis
  NO! There is none of that here! You dog knotters and pie lovers and free teenage penis picture wanters GO AWAY!
• blog my black eye
  I NEED COFFEE NOW

So there you go. Apparently brandonjcarr.com is a breeding ground for things that have internet connections in the cracks and crevices in which they live. Perhaps some sort of under-rock FIOS, maybe.

I need to take a shower.

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I started Saturday with my son. We ate breakfast and lunch, played with toys, had a really nice morning. His mom came and picked him up and I immediately went to David‘s to get the awesome started. I played a little GTA 4 for the first time (tractor trailer + pylon = getting thrown out a window) and found that it was developmentally breathtaking. Running around an open environment randomly punching strangers in the face has never been so epic.

Time was running short, so we booked it back to my place where we proceeded to suit up for the night’s festivities. Now it’s not commonplace (I would find out later) to wear a suit for what we had planned for the night, but I had made a decision earlier in the week to be Awesome and that was part of the plan. We then went to TGIFridays, an establishment I’d not been to since Napoleon Dynamite was still in the theaters, and felt superior and elitist in our suits amongst the throng of jeans-and-t-shirt-clad customers. The waitress was more smiley than waitresses tend to be. Our food came out promptly and was delicious. The Power of the Suit.

The trip up to DC was amusing and fun. We didn’t get lost at all, meaning the hour of Getting Lost Time I’d built in to the trip kind of went to waste. But it allowed us to find a parking garage, wander around a bit, and for David to go to the bathroom three to nine times. While typically annoying, David’s marble-sized bladder would wind up saving the night. But I’m not there yet.

We went into the Warner for The Kids In The Hall show. I plopped down six bucks for two sodas and we eventually made our way in. The tickets for this show were a present from Mom, so she went all out…the seats were in the fifth row. As we were led to the front of the theatre in our suits, we put on our best Awesome faces and could barely fit in our seats because we were swollen with pride. The picture to the right is from our seats. Had I felt such an urge over the course of the evening, I could thrown my drink cup and clocked a Kid. I probably could have spat. I think even a sneeze could have carried its shotgun blast of spittle onto the performers. We were close.

I’ll let him tell the story of his lack of subtlety, but David’s version of a whisper is like a normal person’s version of an inside voice…it still carries. So when he has amusing or stupid observations to make about people, the potential for being overheard is high. I’ve created a facial expression that means “Wow. Shut up.” that he receives more than anyone I’ve ever known. All I’ll say is that the gentlemen in front of us were neither Harold nor Kumar.

The impact of everything didn’t hit me until the Kids were on stage performing. I thought “Holy crap…I could sneeze all over Kevin McDonald right now.” The show was, of course, hilarious. We enjoyed it, as did those around us (especially the lady behind us who loudly let us know several times that she loves Kevin). The encore was a thing of brilliance. The Awesomometer ranneth over.

As the crowd began to clear out David announced, as is his way, that he needed to go to the bathroom. Looking back into the Warner lobby and seeing the wall of people between us and the bathrooms, I suggested we just be on our way. We’d made it about a block on the way to the parking garage when I saw a Barnes & Noble that was open another 15 minutes in which he should relieve himself (I suggested finding a bathroom inside, not just the main alcove). I waited outside.

I looked around, taking in the sights of a DC street corner on a Saturday night when I realized that right next to me was a large black bus with very few windows. David came out of the bathroom and I suggested we hang out there for a while and that the bus might be the Kids’ tour bus. We waited and it was entirely worth it.

Kevin McDonald and Bruce McCullough were the first to come out. Kevin wasn’t feeling well, so we introduced ourselves briefly. Bruce was a little chattier. I asked if they were having fun touring again and he said was a lot of fun and a lot of work. He also said we looked like Scientologists in our suits. They eventually moved on so Kevin could get some rest.

Next, Dave Foley crossed the street further up, so I played it cool and let him get all the way before screaming “DAVE!” and running over (through traffic). We talked to him for a bit and he made his way to the bus. He was genuinely friendly and seemed like he was in a great mood even after an exhausting, hilarious show.

Mark McKinney and Scott Thompson came out the same time, both seeming preoccupied and not wanting to chat much. They posed for a picture with a couple other people (I didn’t have my camera and it was too dark for the iPhone camera to be effective), shook our hands, and made their way to the bus. We started heading back to the parking garage when I got a text from Mom asking me to let Dave know that she loves him and has always loved him. I looked up and noticed that Dave was back on our side of the street, so I said “Hey, Dave” and read him the text. He asked me to tell her it was mutual, which I did. I heard a distant sound that was either brakes screaming or a delighted squeal heard from 3,000 miles away.

We headed back home, nerded up beyond belief. David sent a text message to several thousand dozen people letting them know that we’d hung out with the Kids and got increasingly frustrated on the drive home that no one was replying. I made rational suggestions, proposing that maybe sending several thousand dozen text messages at once takes some time. He wouldn’t listen to reason.

Back at David’s we got out the lawn chairs (the lawn in this case being the alley next to the apartment) and sat outside. The weather was gorgeous, the breeze was cooling and near-constant. We began to come down from our Show High and relaxation settled in. An amazing night.

The next day we saw Iron Man and played video games and some other awesome stuff happened. But that’s a lot to go into. I’ve already written a novella about Saturday, so no need to inflict Sunday on you. Suffice it to say I need to get a new Awesomometer because mine blew up all over the place.

b

As far as MacBeth (my computer) is concerned, he’s currently still at the hospital having a hard drive transplant. I actually sort of miss him as his cousin Old PowerBook tries desperately to do the things MacBeth used to do. The Cintiq just doesn’t seem as magical without the MacBook Pro’s processing power. But just a little less magical. The awesome keeps the magic alive.

I’m going to be at Wizard World LA in a couple of weeks. That’s such an odd sentence. I’ve never been to LA, nor have I really been inclined to go there (unless it involves a lucrative writing contract), so looking at my itinerary is bizarre and kind of daunting. The good news is that I’ll get to see my Platinum bros and my DrunkDuck hos while I’m there, so I’ll be in good company. I intend to take lots of pictures since I don’t have official table space of my own. I won’t post any until I get back because MacBeth will still likely be in recovery.

My son turns five tomorrow. How did that happen?

Anyway, go enjoy the Weird Adventures return and tell me if you think I still have brush skillz.

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