I totally, totally spaced on a rather key member for my collage/contest. If you noticed, in the lower left corner I replaced one artist with another. Who got bumped is not really too critical, especially if you know the answer to the overall picture, it did seem redundant.
I’ll leave the “lost” 17th artist as a bonus question or tiebreaker.
Somehow I managed to squeeze in more travel during my high-school tenure with North Dakota than the other four places combined. It’s probably more of a happy accident since everything over there is “distant.”
This next journey was made possible through my membership in Close Up, the high school club for nerds who are into Current Events and/or how the government functions. I managed to join mid-year because my friend Darren was a member. Besides, I come from a rather political family (the Irish side drove the wagon for Lincoln to speak from when he campaigned in Wapella, IL) and I had time to kill before my first class. Being a graduating senior disqualified me from going to Washington, DC earlier in the Spring. I had been there in 1980 anyway, I didn’t feel like I was missing out.
I did get to go to the state-wide gathering in Bismarck which focused on the judiciary system. Unlike the Feds and big states with ongoing, operational legislatures (California, Illinois), North Dakota’s only met on the odd-numbered years and usually wrapped up early, hence we learned the greater details about the ND Supreme Court because they were always in town. Seems comical. I wish it were now since this stay is definitely in the sway of the Teabagger movement. Too bad, I met their new (at the time) Attorney General, Democrat Nick Spaeth and thought he had a future at the National level. Sadly he didn’t as the Republicans gradually took over; Spaeth lost in 1992 for the governorship and now I see he teaches at the University of Missouri.
Back to the trip. Overall it was pretty cool. The program brought in students from all over the state. I shared a room with a couple guys attending (I think) Red River which is in Grand Forks…whoa, the big city (population 66K then). We spent most of time listening to presentations and lectures from numerous speakers, usually attorneys. The major topic was the so-called insurance crisis of the mid Eighties and all these outrageous lawsuits/settlements. A defense lawyer dispelled it as a myth by pointing out how the alleged crisis was coinciding with oil prices plummeting the previous Christmas, thus Big Insurance needed an excuse to jack rates since their investments went South. I’m sure the man’s comments were wasted on the majority of the attendees who were looking forward to the scheduled trip to the mall later in the day.
I wasn’t a completely serious fuddy-duddy neither. Our school’s chaperone Ms. Oihus said to have fun so it took the guilty edge off scoring the latest copy of Spin and playing a few video games.
For all the razzing I gave North Dakota, I still came away with some newfound respect toward the place after seeing how it had similar legal woes like the big states. Getting a couple nights away from school and home didn’t hurt.
Here is the conclusion to my recent Sick Day Theater run, a movie I couldn’t wait to see as a teenager and decided to revisit. Due to my feverish condition, it took several viewings because I fell asleep from the anti-biotics.
It’s amazing how well Time Bandits has held up after 30 years! Despite the special effects having more visible flaws, the story carried this movie and keeps it relevant in the realm of Sci-Fi (time travel)/Fantasy (divine beings). When it comes to the Time Travel genre, I’d put money down on Bandits being a cornerstone…should The Onion‘s AV people decide to write a primer for such a matter.
I remember George Harrison being involved with its creation (he was a producer). I didn’t officially know that Terry Gilliam directed though. Gilliam also co-wrote it with Michael Palin; this explains the Monty Python cameos and humor permeating throughout. You can also see the beginnings of Gilliam’s core actor group forming: Ian Holm, Katherine Helmond and Palin returned in Brazil.
The other element I didn’t notice as easily as a kid was Bandit‘s message ridiculing materialism and to some extent, technology. This was easily lost on me at 13, an age when teens think “more is better.” Notice how Kevin’s parents are obsessed over their things. Maybe the UK was closing the gap on Americans’ need for unnecessary crap courtesy of Thatcherism and it made some uneasy. David Warner steals the show as Evil. Today I think Evil is supposed to represent the Age of Reason coming to its ultimate, cynical conclusion. Sean Connery is no slouch for his brief appearances neither. I only wish his participation were longer.
Currently Time Bandits remains available via Netflix’s insta-view without an end date on the streaming rights. I’d say, virtually dust it off and revisit this odd little Fantasy Comedy which probably influenced the contemporary Doctor Who writers.
April was a tough month to beat on the header (that’s the picture at the top of the site, I prefer to call it the banner but WordPress labelled it.) Somara catching Molly climbing into an empty bag of food was priceless. So I really, really tried to formulate something equally impressive with May. It’s a very memorable month for me: grandparents’ birthdays, Jose’s birthday, the kickoff to the Summer movie season (definitely making plans to see Thor) and many things happened to me in the past. Obviously, the easy theme I could’ve gone with was graduation because I earned my high school diploma 25 years ago. Even then I didn’t consider it much of an accomplishment since I was going to college plus I mostly cruised through the last three years.
For the hell of it, I tried to see what Google could come up with and the darned thing actually helped! Normally the only thing the world’s primary search engine can nail down specifically on the first attempt is porn and/or celebrity gossip. Anyway there was a blip saying May is New Zealand music month. I thought why not. With a bit more research (black is the color of their national teams) and effort, I made a collage I’m quite pleased to use as a show of my appreciation for the islands many just associate with being the place where Lord of the Rings was shot.
This also ushers in a little contest to see who’s paying attention. It will also push the limits on everyone’s musical knowledge regarding New Zealand and I doubt Google can help anybody cheat.
Whoever can name all 16 artists/bands in the collage via Comments, not an e-mail, wins $25 New Zealand dollars-worth of iTunes; as of today’s exchange rate, it’s equal to (roughly) $20 US. Here are a couple other rules:
Good luck and I know six are pretty obvious.
This should be in another series I could call “Movies I let sit in my Netflix streaming queue and finally watched because it was going to expire!” I wanted to catch Moon while in (art house) theaters but we went with District 9 instead as Summer ’09 wound down. Besides, this is a more cerebral Sci-Fi flick, the big screen doesn’t add anything to the plot, experience or point.
Sometime in the near future, fusion-based power is figured out to solve the Earth’s energy problems. The opening commercial implies it cures long-standing poverty issues and conflicts; I doubt the fighting part, people will find other things to kill over. Anyway, the lynchpin is Helium-3, a real isotope which is rare on Earth yet (relatively) abundant on the Moon. Most is trapped in our satellite’s regolith from being hit by billions of years of Solar wind. To get the precious commodity, a corporation built an automated mining/refinery operation but it still needs at least one person to oversee everything, namely to launch a full container of Helium-3 to Earth.
Enter astronaut Sam Bell. Currently he has two weeks remaining on his three-year contract doing the rather lonely job. It isn’t completely solitary, Sam has the base’s computer GERTY (starring the voice of Kevin Spacey) to keep him company and occasional video messages from his wife, probably others too. Due to an accident when he arrived, live communication to Earth has never been possible. Anyone with half a brain knows this is utter crap, the 1969 transmissions from the Apollo lander had only a couple-second delay and we could repair it in a matter of days to weeks. It’s a plot conceit you have to accept like the crew in Sunshine losing contact once they reach Mercury. Meanwhile, Sam keeps busy between maintenance matters with exercise, hobbies, TV reruns and counting down to when he can go home, see his daughter who was born shortly after his departure.
All is going to plan until Sam has to repair an automated miner. He misjudges his vehicle’s approach, wrecks both machines and blacks out. Later he awakens in the base’s infirmary with GERTY explaining the gist of events.
Here’s where I will stop, hoping anyone reading hasn’t seen the rest and nobody has ruined the surprise which propels the story. I again wasn’t so lucky. Somebody spoiled it for me in a conversation and I think the AusChron revealed it in their review…nice. (I’m now virtually staring at my friend Nelson for blurting out who the Final Five were in Battlestar Galactica when I told him I only saw the first season on DVD.) I think the surprise element opens up the story up for debate on the morality behind such missions. Personally, humans are gregarious creatures so we’d send a small town to live there, regardless of cost. The compensation would definitely need to be enormous since the lower gravity and radiation exposure will have permanent, detrimental effects on the astronauts; scientists know this too well from past MIR and ISS residents.
I highly recommend Moon for two strong reasons. The first one is actor Sam Rockwell. He carries 90 percent of the movie, Kevin Spacey’s part was likely dubbed in later. Normally, a one-man show can be pretty dull. It might be why most don’t bring up Castaway on their short lists for favorite Tom Hanks’ flicks. Rockwell keeps it interesting as the audience’s proxy investigator of the mystery behind the whole operation. I also think the guy is underrated by Hollywood and critics in general. Initially, he comes off like a poor-man’s Tom Cruise; see him Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy if you can bear it or the more recent corporate villain in Iron Man 2. Never mind the great job he did with the material he was given nor how much fun he was as a “red shirt” in Galaxyquest. The second is how Moon demonstrates the flexibility of great SciFi. Underneath all the whiz-bang elements, the great SciFi movies are really about how people deal with the conflicts, conditions and situations they encounter. This was true for glitzier hits The Matrix, Aliens and Star Trek II or lower-budget legends The Terminator, Soylent Green and Night of the Comet. Moon isn’t fast-paced yet it pays off more satisfactorily upon its first viewing than Kubrick’s opus 2001.
You could say this entry is a little spinoff from the Final Days in North Dakota series, like Razor was from the larger Battlestar Galactica show. I also didn’t bother to write about it five years ago. I did have celebratory banners over the 20th anniversary of attending my alma mater Marquette.
About this time 25 years ago, I most likely received all my acceptance and rejection letters with the universities I applied to. I can proudly say I didn’t get any denials. My GPA was well-above average but it wasn’t fantastic courtesy of my freshman year. I readily admit to my North Dakota residency being a bigger factor in the admissions peoples’ decisions too.
Where did I apply? I only bothered with five places: Vanderbilt, Marquette, Florida Tech, Texas and Illinois State (my safe pick). I could’ve tried for a couple more like Arizona State, Illinois and Northwestern yet I felt I had spent enough of Dad’s money on the fees ($200 then). I didn’t bother with the two big institutions in North Dakota because I wanted to get the hell out. I also skipped Notre Dame since I knew it was in the Indiana boonies.
My absolute first pick was Vandy. I wanted to go so badly. I had no hesitation on the essay part in its application (a big factor in trying with Notre Dame). I got assistance from my English teacher Mrs. Hoff too; critique and proofreading, I didn’t make her write it for me. Why did I want to go there? I honestly don’t remember. It was in Nashville. It was founded by a sleazebag Robber Baron who thought having a university named after him would expunge his crimes against Humanity and Democracy. I guess it sounded prestigious enough to assist me in whatever career I would pursue four years later. Why didn’t I go? Obviously it was expensive like all private schools, especially when it’s almost on par with the Ivy League academically. My parents were expecting me to score the NROTC scholarship I withdrew from weeks earlier. I wasn’t pursuing an engineering degree anyway so I’m confident the Navy wouldn’t have made me the offer.
I’ll come back to pick number two as we all know which one that turned out to be.
Numero three was the University of Texas. I had never been to Austin before and all I knew about it was my mother’s bellyaching from her 1983 visit with my grandparents. Why there? After a typical winter in Beulah, I thought it would be nice to attend school in a warmer climate. Besides, once I got a good view on how my St. Agnes classmates were on the fast-track to loserdom, I embraced the possibilities Houston brought for high school. I figured the great vibes and times I had with Houston would be recaptured via Austin. Again, my parents nixed it for two reasons: out-of-state tuition was more (nothing close to Vandy or Marquette though); housing was a nightmare. They were actually correct on the latter as I learned when I moved here a decade later.
Coming in fourth was Florida Tech. This institution was an earlier decision from months ago and I forgot to bail on them. Part of it was influenced by the month I spent in Tampa staying at Uncle Chief’s house. Florida seemed like a great place to live outside of the occasional hurricane, violence (Miami Vice and Scarface didn’t help) and being anywhere near my bossy cousin Julie. Tech seemed to be a more mature choice because my serious cousin Matthew attending Fordham said the majority of colleges in Florida were just party schools; his sister seemed to be living proof, all Julie jabbered on about were various times she got wasted. There was no argument on this choice since I had lost interest by Christmas.
As for my safe choice, Illinois State, I felt rather insulted by their acceptance materials. Despite having pretty decent grades, there were no scholarship or grant offers, just the letter with some loan applications from nearby banks. I was supposed to be thrilled over being chosen for the honors program instead. Being 17, I only saw it as more unnecessary effort and asked the ‘rents what was so great about it. Mom said it meant I would have priority on getting the classes I wanted/needed, therefore I could graduate in four years. ISU’s reputation for being a five-to-six-year institution was well known and had made the school a sad joke. The place remained popular since the state had worse choices if you didn’t get into the more prestigious universities in Chicago or Urbana. These factors didn’t faze Mom, she ran an ongoing campaign through the Summer to convince me ISU was the best decision. I am glad I stuck to my guns against it. Any place which thought I was honors material couldn’t have been very good and after being in the workforce for over 20 years, nobody gives a crap about your grades, employers only verify you graduated. The other factor was its location. I had been in and out of Bloomington-Normal all my life. I really wanted to be somewhere else…and away from any nosey friends/relatives; Brian suffered from this throughout his high-school years.
Which pulls everything back to my silver medal winner…Marquette. Unlike the others, they ponied up some dough. My cumulative high-school GPA earned me a $500/semester scholarship under the condition I kept my career GPA there over three; this was doubled to $1000/semester just for my sophomore year, the excuse afterwards was “budget issues.” Marquette was more expensive than UT, FIT and ISU but half the cost of Vandy so I won on this choice. Later I discovered how my parents claimed I “tricked” them by saying I was enrolled for a business degree, not communication. I never told them anything at all regarding my plans other than Vandy, a BS in Economics since I figured I would change to something else like 50 percent of all students do. The university’s location was another factor, it was in a large city and not some cow town which rolled up the sidewalks after 5 PM and/or mid-May. Too bad I had never been to Milwaukee, I think a good whiff of the tanneries from the valley and a week to discover it was the land in which Led Zeppelin never broke up, would’ve made me reconsider borrowing out the wazoo for Vandy. There were other charms I grew to love about the city made famous by Happy Days, Laverne & Shirley and Jeffrey Dahmer. Whenever, I griped about Milwaukee, I quickly remembered how dull ISU was.
Great things did happen to outweigh the numerous crappy events, especially the rampant amplified nepotism and feudalism in Catholicism. The biggest being the friends I still have to this day: Paul, Helen, Jose, Nelson, Sheila, Lee, Deb, Neal and Phil.
A few weeks ago, I participated in a survey from them. Its crux was over alumni donations which was an eye-opener. It asked what I thought was the percentage of graduates who gave money. I figured around 25, namely from the braggarts I keep seeing in the quarterly magazine Marquette keeps sending; I wish they’d stop, I really don’t care what goes on there. The reality was 15 percent which then proceeded to the question of why is it so low? Accrued debt was my immediate answer followed by the administration’s cowardly decision to change the team’s name from Warriors to Golden Eagles. (Paul has repeatedly told the telemarketers, Marquette won’t see another dime for the latter.) I did have to throw in some complaints regarding their obsession with winning another NCAA basketball title; how overpriced it is for the same education state schools offer while they have better resources in broadcasting; and in the end, if I could do it all over again, I wouldn’t go there because I grew tired of the autocratic Jesuits (may explain why dropout-alumnus Scott Walker is such a prick). Sounds like sour grapes initially but I’ve had 20 years to reflect. I’m not bitter or resentful, my diploma remains valid. Plus there were some awesome classes I loved with inspiring instructors and obviously a handful I wish I could’ve avoided, namely Dr. Masson’s apologist lectures. I blame myself more on the whys. School overall is what you put into it. This can negate the prestige or overcome the lack of it may have. Maybe if I had the opportunity to escape North Dakota to visit the candidates, I might’ve made a wiser decision. Probably not, I knew everything then.
They officially released her to me around 230 PM and I drove her home. There a couple things in the post-op care that made me chuckle, childish word but funny. Somara took a nap when we got back…me too, nothing like the droning of a Ken Burns documentary to send you off.
Somara’s mother will be by tomorrow to keep an eye on things while I go to my part-time gig; she’s mostly OK, it’s in case there’s some unexpected bleeding from the incisions. I get to do all the driving and “strenuous” chores for the next two weeks. How I hate mowing the lawn. It’s more important to have her in better shape because we hit Vegas in about a month. There Somara needs to bring her A game due to all the walking, hot weather and the place is generally set to 11.
Another piece of shared Chicago culture passed away this week. Even though I never lived in the Windy City, I watched plenty of WGN like millions of others through cable TV. The Empire Carpet commercials were prevalent on Sundays whenever we caught the old Lone Ranger and Cisco Kid shows or Family Classics with Frazier Thomas. I had no idea this guy was more than the spokesman, he was also the genius behind the tune!
It’s amazing how the store’s catch got embedded in your brain. The darned thing is like a litmus test to check the genuineness of Midwestern DNA. I remember Paul (a born and bred Southsider) knowing it by heart which was obvious. I’m was more shocked when I found a couple people around Austin who knew the main hook of “5-8-8, 2-300, EM-piiiiiiiiiiire!” and they’d never set foot in Chicago.
“It’s Adventure Wars, c’mon grab your friends, we’ll have fun that never ends. Chew the Wook and Han the Human…something, something, something.”
I can never remember how the rest of theme song goes, I just know it’s one of the funniest and goofiest shows Cartoon Network has aired since Chowder. It’s a minor reason why I miss cable/satellite, then I remember how many commercials per hour these channels air. I wish CN would make its content available via Netflix streaming…Johnny Test doesn’t count because it’s Canadian and crappy.
This shirt is a great hybridization. The gentleman wearing it is a co-worker who shares my love for cartoons. I believe he even took a support call from voice actor Jack Angel; today most would know him as Chunk in Toy Story 3 but he has been a fixture with cartoons for decades (GI Joe, Superfriends, Smurfs, Tale Spin, Duck Tales, Billy & Mandy). Therefore, I had to reward him…he has tremendous patience when I start gushing about how much I dig Adventure Time, Archer and Futurama.
How did I miss this little graphical display back in January is beyond me! I stumbled upon it from the Onion while trying to see what their opinion was with the new Foo Fighters. (So far I figured it was going to be great because the two blowhards from Chicago gave a “trash it” rating.)
Meanwhile, if Pitchfork‘s rating system is to be believed, I would make a horrible staff member since most of the stuff they ripped a new anus I generally enjoyed very much: Ghostland Observatory (seen them live, they’re pretty cool and from Austin), Mumford & Sons and Edward Sharpe & the Magnetic Zeroes (the writer said they were rather manufactured sounding). Ouch! I’m not sure if they genuinely liked the Kanye West that gave them a stiffy or they are prone to the pretentiousness of being “rawk” critics, thus they have to prove they’re “free thinkers” saying the meanderings of Joanna Newsom is worth buying (three CDs of tedium) or the noise-ridden Beach House and Deerhunter (even when I was younger, I wasn’t keen on their predecessors Jesus & Mary Chain until those Scots scaled back the distortion). Then again, the stuff which got close to “10” were re-issues, showing they have a thing for playing it safe.
I definitely need to get off my duff to pop out my faves as I used to. Stay tuned because Pitchfork has indirectly called my tastes “pedestrian.”
We managed to pick up the Milwaukee feed through Somara’s iPhone, she has some app that taps into the radio stations off of the AHL’s site or something. Unless last year, I wasn’t very optimistic on their chances because the Admirals are a really tough team at home. Besides, the Stars lost too many critical games at the end of the regular season which put them in the lousy fourth spot. Although all three games here were close and tense, I felt there wasn’t much left in the tank, especially when they were failing to score on the numerous powerplay opportunities the Admirals kept giving them.
Despite the Stars’ playoff chances ending with a whimper, we put in our down payment for next year’s season tickets. By the time everybody has to report for camp in five months, the three of us (Somara, Jeremy and me) will be jonsin’ to catch some hockey. Now I need to tense up over the Flyers trying to eliminate the Sabres, a team they should’ve eliminated a couple games ago. If they can’t, I have to trim my beard and I’m out $150 (remember I only spent $10, the bigger amount is what I might win).
My biggest wish for the Stars this Summer is that many of the players we’ve grown attached to return. If they don’t, I do hope they received offers to play with Dallas (their ultimate goal) or other NHL teams; this is why Warren Peters went to Houston, he got more ice time with the Wild. I won’t find out until July 1, the day free agency kicks in.
Their site doesn’t give much of an explanation on the reasons for the day: The group’s founding? When the Johns met? Nothing.
I am excited about them releasing a new album this year called Join Us.
This afternoon’s appointment was the last examination and other tests, I guess blood because Somara had a bandage on her arm afterwards. Unless we are told otherwise, we have to show up at 930 AM while the fun starts around 11 AM. It’s not too far from her 2008 operation so I’ll be able to find a free Wi-Fi spot to give any urgent updates.
If you like, please send her “get well” cards. Physical or electronic are fine. Personally, I think prayers are stupid since this the outcome will be dependent upon the doctor’s skill, whatever is found via the camera and how well the anti-biotics work. As a fellow Atheist friend said, nothing fails like the power of prayer.
There are times I often regret documenting my past very well through photos, datebooks or even a journal. I was a very prolific letter writer until I got swept up in the numerous distractions of college. The shoeboxes filled with past correspondence is scattered about somewhere in my house.
This last weekend was the whole brouhaha known as Easter Weekend or as I prefer to call it, Zombie Jesus Day since contemporary “Christians” would’ve taken a shotgun to any dead popping out of their graves. Plus my friend Helen had her late Spring Break around now, as if pre-school kids need one. It got me thinking about my time in North Dakota wrapping up since I’ve never been back.
When I was wrapping up my senior year at Beulah HS, the students were given a long weekend starting on Thursday. How I wish when it exactly was. I know it was in late March or early April, before I went to Bismarck for Close Up (Part II) and graduation (Part III). Why though? The time off period was my last trip to Canada, a nation I would so love to visit again. I even thought about moving there after Bush II was legitimately elected in 2004. With their upcoming election, it’s hard to tell if our Northern neighbors are safe from Right-Wing idiocy as Harper demands a Conservative (Tory) majority next month. Don’t even get me started about Canadian politics. I admit to only having a rudimentary understanding through The Toronto Star yet Harper has the same coat of slime I see on Berlosconi whenever the news discusses either.
By late Winter, Mom had rejoined us in Beulah. I think it was after Brian scored his driver’s license in Illinois. When the long weekend was upon us, Mom and I convinced Dad to take the time off so we could all make the drive to Winnipeg. The past experience in 1985 made it worthy of a repeat visit. For those of you who’ve never lived in the Great Plains, let me quickly explain why we chose this rather distant, obscure Canadian city. Beulah, ND is way over in the western part of the state. The closest thing one could call a city is Bismarck. However, everybody in town hits that place on the weekends, making it rather routine. Hit I-94 West and you’re not going to find any metropolises until the Pacific Ocean; probably Seattle or Portland. South? Forget it, South Dakota is less urban and recently, showing its cultural backwardness. Taking I-94 East means Minneapolis-St. Paul which is a drive across two very large states for over eight hours. On the other hand, Winnipeg takes almost as long due to no highways necessarily leading to the border.
However, Winnipeg trumped Minneapolis for three reasons:
Being a passenger in the car was a breeze thanks to the walkman I received last Christmas. I loaded up on mix tapes/compilations and I’m confident I probably read the current novel Mrs. Hoff assigned in English IV. From time to time, I had to answer some question from the ‘rents up front. The border crossing was easy. It was a pair of houses, one for each nation’s inspector. The Canadian guy figured we were the usual tourists and the only thing I remember they’re a stickler for is cigarettes; Americans often smuggle these to aid the Canadian black market against cigarette taxes. Dad also stopped for directions at a farm and I had to hold my breath from laughter, the nice, helpful dude could’ve been the third McKenzie brother by the way he dressed.
When we were within FM radio range of Winnipeg, I switched over my walkman to tune in their stations which can be confusing, they don’t have public interest stuff relegated below 92 FM. Several things I took away from them: a quick history of the Payola$, Simple Minds were coming to play their arena and the debut Fine Young Cannibals record was awesome. While sitting in car, waiting for Dad to get something at Canadian Tire, there was some comedy bit ripping on PM Mulroney’s recent troubles with a bribery/influence peddling accusation (some things never change with the Conservatives/Tories).
Outside of taking in the Canadian radio culture, I was often free to roam around downtown over a couple days. I have no clue what my parents were looking for, maybe clothes. One thing I don’t recommend shopping for in Canada is clothing, it’s more expensive than in America and often it’s the same imported crap from the Third World. Hence when I lived in North Carolina, the female Canadian teenagers I encountered (their parents worked for NorTel, BASF or the Hurricanes) were nuts about buying/having more clothes than they had “back home.”
Back to my story…
Being 17, I was mainly out to find the things I couldn’t get in Beulah or Bismarck: records and these new lines of comic books. I stumbled upon a great place to get the latter. Weeks ago, Dad gave me a subscription to Rolling Stone (it didn’t take me long to realize how far out of the loop they were musically) and there was this huge piece covering Frank Miller’s The Dark Knight Returns miniseries. I was really looking forward to reading it. This store in Winnipeg had the first two issues! I gobbled those up and scored the first issue of New Teen Titans (1980) as a joint gift to my friend Jon (Mike and Jason chipped in some cash). The store was my first experience with the growing world of direct sales, aka places dedicated to selling just comic books. It sounds rather silly today as these places are more common. When I was growing up, comic books were usually sold through newsstands and the magazine rack at groceries stores. During the Eighties, the publications were undergoing a tremendous shift to allure a better, longer-term audience. Back in Beulah, my friends Jason, Mike and Jon already had substantial collections; I remember Jason at the time, had all but 12 issues of every Spider-Man-based title. They drew me in through the DC Heroes game and Jon loaned me all his New Teen Titans, New Mutants and Crisis on Infinite Earths. Being a perfectionist, I read these things pretty quickly to hone my skill with the game. Comics finally cutting back on how much advertising there was helped; in the Seventies, this was every two pages and often for products no one bought.
The bulk of my money was saved for a bigger endeavor, music. Here the exchange rate was in my favor (with comic books, it was at parity). I scoured several places looking for nothing in particular, it just needed to be something I was into and had no chance of being played on the mediocre Bismarck station we got in Beulah. The one discovery which blew my mind was the new Split Enz album See Ya’ Round being plugged. All previous research I had done over Christmas through those back catalog books stores used to have said Split Enz broke up in the last couple years. I scored it plus got solid deals on Tim Finn’s first solo, Adam Ant’s Vive Le Rock and a couple others. Rather odd I didn’t bother with anything by the Payola$ after the tutorial on the radio.
There other things we did beyond shopping. To me, the overall pleasantness was being in a decent-sized city again. The weather was crap but it wasn’t anything too different from what we were accustomed to in Beulah. In the back of my mind, I was thinking Winnipeg was a preview of what life may be like in Milwaukee since I had been recently accepted to Marquette.
Meanwhile, I couldn’t wait to return to school the following Monday to share all the awesome new swag I scored. Those Dark Knight comics and some good tea were greatly appreciated by the Danish exchange student in my class; Christian often said American tea was as water-down as our beer.
Throughout cities there are colonies of feral cats, it’s such a shame too. Contrary to popular belief, their citizens (maybe catizens) aren’t all unfriendly. With the population living between Apple’s old 183 location and our last apartment, we met several. Over Christmas 2000 Somara even rescued a big male we named Mongo. As sweet as Mongo was, we found a home on a nice farm for him. Last I heard, he lives in the barn and is great friends with a horse.
By Spring 2001 we were getting ready to wind down apartment living as the house was being built. Hopefully Molly and Wicca would get along better since there would be more space for them to “share.” Best of all, no more pet deposits.
So on a Saturday night, I was outside waiting for someone to pick me up for dinner. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted movement. It was a cat wandering around. Being a Leo and cat fan, I had to follow, see if the kitty was friendly. It ran under a parked car. While I was looking under the vehicle, trying to coax it out, another cat came up beside me. She was gray, had long fur and was unusually trusting. I petted her and she didn’t seem to mind at all. I had no idea about the gender of the hidden cat so I’m not sure if I interrupted anybody’s “date.” However, when discovered how skinny this friendly animal was, I scooped her up (there wasn’t too much struggle) and took her to the apartment for some food.
Initially this cat had to hide out on the porch otherwise Molly would keep assaulting her. We learned this lesson with Mongo, never mind that he outweighed Molly by 50 percent. The new cat wolfed down the food I gave her so she was probably starving or tired of her bug and trash diet. Somara agreed to watch her after my ride showed.
Afterwards, we were going to carry on with the same plan as Mongo. Get this cat neutered and find her a home. Originally I wanted to name her Lily, maintain the Blazing Saddles theme we started with Mongo. Somara thought it was cruel to brand a cat after a prostitute. I felt it was fitting since Madeline Kahn had recently died. Then I proposed Miette (French for “crumb”) because she was cute and a little thief like the girl from The City of Lost Children. This cat has taken the thief moniker pretty well, leave a bag of cat food out and Miette will rip it open in seconds…after you turn your back.
What happened? The plan came undone because Miette proved to be a little sweetheart who bonded to me very quickly. I couldn’t give her up and I think the possibilities with my upcoming house made me a little cat crazy. Miette has always worshipped me a bit as her hero. I tease her by saying she was always born for the domestic life.
Today she is estimated to be 12 years old. Miette remains pretty spry. She loves to climb to the top of the tower, chase bugs and is first in line for treats. Over the years she did become more affectionate through her routines (she used to be a tad distant and would scratch anyone trying to hold her): she demands that I cradle her like a baby in the morning and my lap is her cot in the evening along with a goodnight petting while sitting on my chest as I go to sleep.
How is she with strangers? Miette is cool with adults. She hangs around at the periphery until they sit down. Small children still spook her. Despite many warnings, my niece Madison got bopped in the nose by Miette a few years ago. Hopefully both parties have forgotten the incident.
