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Pages of the Past

The Toronto Star has digitized every issue from 1892 to 2001.  Pages of the Past gives you access to over a hundred years of Canadian news and events.  It’s subscription-based, but right now 1945 is free!

Of course, I went straight to the comics.  The Star of 45 had the usual suspects: L’il Abner, Bringing Up Father, Terry and the Pirates, and Popeye.  But it also had a few I’d never heard of like King of the Royal Mounted.  Watch as our Canadian hero fails to rescue a damsel in distress:

Even Superman is easily distracted in 1945:

However, the real gems are the small ads interspersed throughout the pages.  Oh what I wouldn’t do for some glistening hippo oil…

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Filmed in Glorious Technicolor!

Check out this great collection of movie title stills ranging from obscure B horror movies to modern day blockbusters.  It’s a fantastic resource for movie and typography fans alike, and I am going to get no work done today because I can’t stop looking at them all.

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The Conquistador

According to Wordcount, the title of this post uses our language’s most-used and least-used words.  It’s no surprise that ‘the’ is the most popular word (it appears in this post 11 times), but it’s surprising that ‘conquistador’ is the least popular.

I certainly feel that I use the word ‘conquistador’ more often than some of what the database considers more popular words like ‘vodapage’, ‘bhimji’, and ‘femtosecond’.

Sometimes the sequence of words creates an interesting effect, like this sentence I found: “Bush admits (specifically agents’) smell.”

So where do I fit in?  ‘John’ is the 266th most-used word in the English language.  Not bad considering the archive consists of 86,800 words.

I’m more popular than McDonald’s (39,507), Microsoft (4,304), and God (376).

Hell, I’m even more popular than sex! (1,236)

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Quote Unquote

I was just typing some text in Illustrator CS and I never noticed it before, but the program automatically uses proper typographer’s quotes (or smart quotes, or curly-cue quotes, or whatever your label of choice may be) when typing instead of the straight up-n-down inch marks.

It’s about time Adobe implemented this feature (I checked; it’s in the CS version of Photoshop as well).  Hopefully this will reduce the scads of ignorant apostrophe catastrophes in the design world that get me so riled up.

Yay for proper typography!

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Festival Time

I picked up my 30-film coupon book for the Toronto International Film Festival today.  Every year I tell myself I’m going to do the festival proper, but every year I forget until the last minute and then passes are sold out.

But not this year!  I’ve got my coupons, and am patiently awaiting the release of the festival guide so I can choose my movies.  I even took the full week off from work so instead of sitting on my ass in front of a screen all week I can sit on my ass in front of a big screen.

However, the window of opportunity from the moment the film schedule goes public and the day that advance ticket orders goes in is from the 31st of August to the 3rd of September, so I now have to endure a full month of anticipation for 4 hurried days of frantic movie-picking.

Of the films I know will be playing that I want to check out are Todd Solondz’s new flick and Ray, the Ray Charles biopic (I know I originally poo-pooed the idea of Jamie Foxx as Ray in a previous post, but after seeing the trailer I think he may be the perfect choice, and the movie actually looks worth watching).

So watch out, theatre seats of Toronto!  My butt is on its way!

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Vermicelli

Last night I had a craaaazy dream in which I kept pulling out these long, slimy, parasitic worms from my mouth.  It was reminiscent of that scene in The Chamber of Secrets where Ron kept vomiting slugs.  I blame Parasite Rex.

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Get-a Your Tootsie-Frootsie Ice-a Cream!

Continuing my look at people from my neighbourhood is this fellow who mans the ice-cream truck just outside Honest Ed’s.  On a warm day he’s guaranteed to be there squeezing soft-serve ice cream into cones for all the locals while he listens to the ballgame on the radio.  (But don’t worry, he exits the truck for his smoke breaks)

(P.S. Matt Forsythe is also drawing the people in his neighbourhood.)

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Foster’s

Craig McCracken, creator of the Powerpuff Girls, has a new show: Foster’s Home for Imaginary Friends.  Like its predecessor, it has a fabulously unique graphic style, this time aided by Flash or AfterEffects it seems… I’m incredibly excited for this, but I’ll probably have to wait for DVD to see it.  (Is that Phil LaMarr I hear as Wilt?)

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One Giant Leap for Robotkind

History may only remember July 20 as the anniversary of Neil Armstrong’s first steps on the moon.  But an event far more significant to the advancement of technology and the wonder of the human spirit is to be celebrated today…

Today marks the first anniversary of the day this robot started blogging.  RobotJohnny.com has existed in some form or another since about 1997, but it was one year ago today I jumped on the blogging bandwagon.

So here’s to you, loyal reader!  And three cheers for the sites that helped me at the start by inspiring me and providing links to help boost my traffic: Keri Smith, Loobylu, Scrubbles, Danny Gregory, James McNally, Amanda at Foreword, Brett Lamb, and the Armchair Garbageman.  If I’ve forgotten someone, it’s probably for good reason, you jerks!

Who knew I could yammer on for a full 365 days!  I’ve got big plans for 2005, so stay tuned (nahh, just more of the same really...)

Oh, and since I’m a shameless whore, it’s never too late for gifts.

Happy blogday to meeee!

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Revolver

I met Salgood Sam (aka Max Douglas) several weeks ago at the Toronto Comic-Con and I picked up a copy of his new personal anthology Revolver.

It’s a collection of small personal pieces, that while not entirely related, do have some thematic glue holding them together.  All the mini stories are told from the perspective of lonely characters reflecting on their place in the world.  But it doesn’t have that “hey, this story is just like the previous one!” effect. The variations on the way these stories are told and illustrated are enough to keep it from being repetitive.  Even stylistically, at first glance, the book appears to be done by a variety of different artists.

If the book has one flaw (at least from this comic-reader’s perspective) it’s that it seems to be consciously sad—not sad in the pretentiously-dark-like-teenage-poetry way (save, maybe, for the line “...fleeting demons like shadows I can’t quite see"), but just short enough of joy to be noticeable.

There are, however, two small pieces that shine because of their humour.  The first is an illustrated retelling of a dream in which the dreamer ends up eating candy on a strange planet with springy sunglasses-wearing aliens.  The second chronicles a maturing embryo reacting to its host mother’s indulgences, and fittingly acts as the final story in the book.

Max is clearly someone who is passionate about what he does, and is one of those people who tries to blur the lines between comics and literature (although these pieces are decidedly more poetic than prosaic).  The artwork is wonderful and has a lively loose feel to it that makes it easy to miss how well planned and creative the layout of the panels are.  Revolver is a refreshing change of pace from the usual batch of men in tights and frogs with boners.  Pick it up if you get the chance, or pop over to Max’s site and order it directly.  So says the robot.

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Typo

My latest typo… First, notice the relation, on the keyboard, of the letters ‘I’ and ‘N’ to ‘U’ and ‘B’.

FRESH FALL LUBE-UP

Oops.

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Comic Books That Need a Bookmark

The New York Times has an article on the recent surge in popularity of graphic novels.  Surely if you’ve stepped into a bookstore recently you’ve noticed that there’s likely a shelf freshly catering to graphic novels and other alternative comi(x)cs… But like the author of the article states, although this shelf is usually found at some distance from the cartoon-and-humour section, as if to place greater artistic merit on them, they are still obviously stocked and shelved by someone not out of love, interest, and knowledge, but because “hey these graphic novel things are hot right now… we should sell some.” So invariably, amidst the choice picks of Chris Ware, Seth, Chester Brown, and Art Spiegelman, you’ll also find some misplaced Spider-Man comics, illustrated Star Wars books, and the Manga—can’t forget all that Manga.

The article deals with the former—those who suffer through the creation of this artform alone, sharing their own personal stories through their drawing. Check out the author’s description of the type of person who creates graphic novels (graphic novelists?):

For those who do stick with it, the career of the graphic novelist can seem less a choice than a compulsion. The process of becoming one goes something like this: First there’s a conversion moment, which happens at a remarkably young age, usually when the artist is still in grammar school. To put it simply, he falls in love with a comic strip—fairly often it’s ‘’Peanuts’’—and then with comics in general. Soon he’s copying them, and then he’s generating his own. In high school, where this artist, a nerd, most likely, and an outcast, is unrecognized for the talent he is, cartooning becomes a refuge, a way to work out revenge fantasies and occasionally even a modest claim to fame.

More of the same in college or art school—if he even bothers with formal training. Cartooning is now an obsession, a visual diary in which the artist records every detail of his personal life, with a special emphasis on his sexual fantasies and his usually excessive masturbation, and then at some point, if he is lucky, he figures out how to turn all this rage and depression and thwarted energy, all those pages and pages of sketches and drawings, into storytelling, into a portrait of the artist as a young man.

It painfully hits home, perhaps not because of its truthfulness, but because it actually describes so many people (Seth, Joe Matt, Chris Ware, R. Crumb, to name a few) that perhaps it feels like a sad cliche (sort of like how serial killers all seem to have the same fatherless, animal-mutilating, pornography-filled childhoods) .  But the saving grace of this cliche cartoonists’ childhood, I suppose, is that the resulting art is anything but unoriginal. Be sure to watch the article’s multimedia peresentation to see the work of and listen to Seth, Chester Brown, Joe Sacco, Chris Ware, and Art Spiegelman.  Once again Chris Ware is practically apologizing for even existing (he describes comics as unbuoyant, brittle, and clattery, and I can’t be certain, but I think it’s his way of saying, “comics are dumb").

It’s been a long while since I’ve done any real comics myself, and this rush of the medium’s popularity is very inspiring.  I suppose, however, the only thing stopping me is writer’s block.  I am certain I don’t want to make another depressing young man’s autobiography—mostly because, in addition to it having been done already, contrary to my profession’s demographics, I’m actually quite happy.

Maybe that’s the problem.  Am I too happy to be creative?  Does real art only come to those who suffer?  Maybe I need to masturbate more…

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King Arthur, a Review

The latest entry in the world of cinematic Arthurian legend is the boringly-titled King Arthur.  The film begins with a disclaimer:  “You may of heard of a King Arthur from the Dark Ages.  Well, we’ve heard different.” In other words, this is not your father’s King Arthur.

How do they differ? For one thing, this Arthur is totally a Roman.  At the start I was willing to go along with it.  After all, director Antoine Fuqua (whoever he is) must clearly be some sort of brilliant auteur.  How do I know this?  The film’s trailer machine-gunned it into my head: “AN ANTOINE FUQUA FILM!!”

Clive Owen plays Artuo, the virtuous commander for the Roman Empire.  Sounds familiar already, doesn’t it?  And if Arthur’s not King of the Britons, what, you ask, of all the other familiar elements pertaining to the legend of Camelot?  Well, for starters there is no Camelot.  But Artie’s band of merry men, the Knights of the Interchangeable, are all accounted for.  All your favourites are here.  There’s G’Wayne, of course, followed by Gyllenhaal.  Then we have Falco, Bumpo, Jesus, Curly Joe, and finally Lancelot as portrayed by Survivor-winner Ethan Zahn.

Sean Connery plays Police Chief Germanius, and on the eve of their retirement he sends the Knights of the Shiny Displaced Round Table out on one last mission: to rescue the Governor’s daughter who has been kidnapped by the dirty Saxon drug cartel.  (If you were expecting the quest for the Holy Grail, you’ll have to wait for the musical I’m afraid).

On the way to Scotlandia they also rescue a small boy named Guinevere, played by Keira Knightley.  Gwen is a spirited little lad who fancies himself a warrior like the bigger men and he fights alongside them through many a poorly-edited battle scene.

The familiar love triangle between Artie, Lancelot, and the prepubescent Guinevere has been replaced with some subtle man-glancing between knights Gargamel and Garfunkel.  And old wizardy faithful Merlin even pops into the story, but not as the white-haired mystic you usually find in modern day blockbustery.  This time around he’s a crunchy little dirt-covered man who hides in the forest with his ragtag misfits (because the movie needed more confusing divisions apart from Brits, Romans, Roman Brits, British Romans, Saxons, Safrons, Alsatians, Samosas, Sarmatians, Orcs, and Fraggles).

In a surprise twist, reprising his role from The Last Samurai (reviewed here) as the leader of the Mexican banditos, is Eli Wallach.  The final gory, bloody, violent, PG-13 battle scene between the banditos and William “Braveheart” Wallace is one of many between ‘people with armour’ and ‘people with no armour’, a sort of Roman Empire shirts-and-skins game, if you will. 

The main baddies take their turns dying in the order dictated by cinematic law, and similarly, Artorius and Guinevere get married despite never sharing a single conversation (besides the sweaty horizontal kind).

All in all, it is just what you’d expect from a movie called King Arthur that doesn’t actually have any kings in it.  And if you like the “movies with ‘king’ in the title that don’t actually have a king in the movie” genre here are some others you might enjoy:

• The King of Comedy
• The Fisher King
• King Kong
• King Solomon’s Mines
• King of the Rocket Men
• Stephen King’s It

One of them even features the Holy Grail, which is something that can’t be said for King Arthur. 

To end this review, I believe Clive Owen said it best, several times in the movie: “ARGHOOOUUGGHHHOOUGHHH!!!”

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Did You Try Restarting?

Why is it, when you have computer problems (like I had at work here yesterday when my computer wouldn’t boot up past the spinning starburst under the Apple logo) everyone’s first question is, “Did you try restarting?”

I called the IT department.  “Did you try restarting?” Sigh.

While waiting for someone from the IT department to show up, people would see that my computer wasn’t working.  “Did you try restarting?” they asked.

Christ.  Even the people who know very little about computers always try restarting.  Why?  Because it’s all they know how to do.  In fact, it’s why they ask if you’ve restarted, too.  It’s just how they troubleshoot.

No one ever says, “Did you try zapping the P-RAM?” or “Did you try starting from a CD?” or even “Did you try temporarily booting into 9 to delete that 900-Meg AfterEffects animation you’ve left lying around that’s screwing up your startup drive, and then doing a clean install of OS X?”

Okay, okay, my fault for not properly backing up my work and clearing the hard drive from junk.  But still… yes I tried restarting, thank-you very much.

Oh, and while waiting for IT to show up, I finished my book, so I hopped across the street to pick up a new one.  I chose Eats, Shoots & Leaves, the book for people like me who cringe at a misused comma or an ill-placed apostrophe (or foot-mark, for that matter).

Scroll down to the reviews on Amazon’s page.  Apparently Greg from Frisco, Texas has a problem with the audio-book version.  Greg, what exactly were you expecting from an audio-book that relies on the visual?  When read aloud, the differences between there, their, and they’re must be truly self-evident.

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Who Are the People in Your Neighbourhood?

In a conscious effort to add more actual illustrations to the site, I offer the first in what will most likely be an ongoing series: people I see around my neighbourhood.  This particular shameless fella is often seen just “hanging out” on the front porch with his other porcine family members.

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