Issue 32: Don't Bother Me, I'm Thinking
By Medulla Vesuvius

The New Archetypes- Part the Second, in Which the Author Jettisons the Idea of a Second New Archetype

Hello again, Don’t Bother Me, I’m Thinking readers. Remember, if you will, at the end of my last column I promised part II of a pair of pieces dealing with the new archetypes.

Well, that idea was ruined by Clive Thompson of The New York Times. In his recent article “Sex, Drugs, and Updating Your Blog,” Thompson said everything I wanted to say and more in an approachable, engaging style, all the while adopting a premise which directly contrasted with my own.

Here’s what went wrong with my article. My basic hunch was that, like “rock stars” are an archetype, (ever-present personalities matching pre-wired expectations in our brains), “artists” are archetypal as well.

I was going to talk about the Romantic image of a tortured, solitary soul, creating art out of a primal, inescapable need, and how this type of artist has no regard for the potential audience for their work. I was going to talk about guys like Beethoven or Van Gogh or Pollock- artists from various periods of history, much more qualified for producing things than relating to people—isolationist, private geniuses who created art from on high and then let the rest of the details, (audience, criticism, meaning), sort themselves out.

Well, it turns out that image, (as much as I might personally like it), is fading into obscurity and is certainly no archetype.

According to Thompson, the new model for artists of all disciplines is accessibility, made possible through the wonders of the internet. Gone are the days when a music fan had to be stealthy and patient to get a chance at the mere hope of a token interaction, such as an after-show autograph with their favorite artist. Musicians are increasingly engaged in conversation with their fans, be it one-to-one, one-to-a-few, or one-to-many. Thompson paints a picture of today’s artists being just as busy with the “people-work” part of promoting themselves as with the more conventional activity of actually creating art work.

So, this is not an article about how the definition of the word “artist” is chiseled into our psyches the way the word “rockstar” (maybe) is. This is an article about how I was wrong. The occupation of popular artists is in flux.

I began to think of this situation when Adrian Belew, one of my all-time favorite musicians, (but one of those whom I previously imagined as larger-than-life, untouchable–primarily because of his long career and association with some pretty big names like David Bowie, Frank Zappa, and Talking Heads), started a blog. The idea of an absolute hero being only a “comment” away blew my mind.

I can’t help but wonder if this new accessibility, regardless of how superficial it may or may not be, is an environment which fosters “artists-as-heroes.” Or does it foster “artists-as-business-associates?” And is it really all that important that we have heroes anyway? Does the fact that we can interact with the creators of artworks diminish our ability to be moved by said art? I don’t know.

As usual I wind this up with more questions than when I started and in this particular case, mostly a non-article, (thanks to Clive Thompson.) But it will all be worth it if you take that time that you thought you would be using to read about a second archetype and use it to peruse the little corner of the internet curated by Adrian Belew, an unlikely “Artist 2.0”: Adrian Belew’s Elephant Blog

Issue 32: Sydney Brown's Sixty Seconds
By Sydney Brown

This Will Take Longer than Sixty Seconds Edition

A departure for the Sixty Seconds this go-around, first because the only film I’ve seen in the last two weeks is Spider-Man 3, and odds are you don’t need me to tell you how mediocre it was. But more importantly, I have something I want to talk about, a topic that requires more than the usual paragraph.

I have a new guilty pleasure for the first time in years. I am always in front of my TV or have the DVD recorder on at 9:00pm, Monday through Friday. The national network ION, (formerly PAX), is broadcasting reruns of The Wonder Years from 9-10pm, and I’m rediscovering just how great this show is.

For the uninformed, The Wonder Years was a show on ABC that aired from 1988 to 1993 and covered that same time period twenty years prior, (the show started in 1968 and ended in 1973.) Fred Savage was Kevin Arnold, your typical teen just starting junior high, and the entire show was narrated by the adult Kevin voiced, by Daniel Stern.

I may be biased because everything that happened on the show was literally one year ahead of my own life, so watching this show is almost a time capsule- reliving moments from my own life, (which back then was getting a glimpse of what was to come.) The Wonder Years was never really a show that was a big hit in syndication, (Nick at Nite picked it up for a few months years ago, but that’s about it.) So as a result, I’m watching most of these episodes for the first time in fifteen years. And they have aged amazingly well. And they still play so true-to-life.

The overly obnoxious older brother. The almost-never-there sister. The awkwardly communicative father. The doting mother. The dorky best friend. All highlighted by the ultimate “hottie that doesn’t know she’s a hottie” girlfriend Winnie Cooper. Granted, some of the episodes weren’t keepers, but yet so many were so tremendously great, they’ve stayed etched in my brain for years.

Two of those shows aired just this past week, and demonstrate just how accurately they capture the human emotion. Oddly, both of them are possibly “jump the shark” moments in the series.

1) Kevin and Winnie have broken up and Kevin sets up a party at Paul’s house to get back with her only to find that she’s bringing her new boyfriend to the party. So Kevin sets up a date with Madeline…

And let’s just stop there. Any person even vaguely familiar with this show knows who this girl is. Madeline was the new student introduced in season 4 who had the hots for Kevin, (arguably because he was the only male who had the balls to say a word to her), and sent Kevin in a tailspin for half the season avoiding her advances. Madeline was the epitome of every 14 year-old’s dream when this show aired, (and it’s okay to lust after her in the show because she was 20 playing 14.) But she was THAT girl. THAT girl in school who was HOT, and you didn’t dare talk to her, and even if you had a shot with her, you wouldn’t know what to do about it.

So Kevin sets up a date with Madeline and proceeds to be the life of the party solely to make Winnie jealous, except not only does Winnie not notice, but Madeline does, and gives Kevin an ultimatum: her or Winnie. A distraught Kevin seeks solace in the curtained-off back room only for Winnie to find him there. Kevin then proceeds to verbally tear Winnie apart in a manner that, (as an equally rejected young man at the time), I applauded, but in my older years almost winced at as Kevin let loose with emotions that he didn’t mean, but only so that she could feel the same pain he did. Winnie reacted naturally. She teared up, and exited stage left.

What followed was one of the most awesome TV moments ever. As Winnie ran away crying, Madeline entered and asks “Have you made your decision?” which clearly, but never openly states that Madeline purposely led Winnie to her doom.

And what does Kevin say? It’s been argued for years whether he made the right call. You’ll just have to wait for the rerun to see. Though quite frankly, Kevin Arnold…….was a F***kin’ idiot.

2) This one has stayed with me for years. And the irony is that the scene that hit the hardest I didn’t even remember until I saw it recently.

It’s basketball tryouts and Coach Kutlip is asking for volunteers. No one wants to play for him, so Kutlip drafts the players himself, (a thinly-veiled Vietnam reference.) Oddly, the inept Paul Pfieffer gets drafted to the shock of everyone, especially Kevin, since he’s beaten Paul one-on-one hundreds of times. In a row. He expects Paul to fail and that will be that.

But something odd happens as Paul joins the team. He gains confidence. He plays well. He makes new friends. Cool friends. And he doesn’t seem to have time for Kevin anymore. And Kevin takes it personally. He questions Paul’s abilities, reminds him how bad he is, and in a display of complete dickishness, humiliates Paul by destroying him in a one-on-one game.

One scene makes this a standout episode and one where you realize all the rules have changed:

Kevin is studying quietly in his room when his brother Wayne starts pestering him, noticing he’s awfully down. Kevin denies it. Wayne thinks differently. He knows that he’s bothered about Paul. Kevin looks startled. But doesn’t deny it. And Wayne hits the nail on the head (I’m paraphrasing):

“You’re upset about Paul. He’s doing good on the basketball team. He’s making friends.” (And here comes the dagger) “Paul’s beneath you. And he’s a loser. How dare he make something of himself without you.”

And Kevin freezes. And we, the audience also freeze. Because Wayne has been an asshole the entire series, and suddenly, while he’s still an asshole, he’s exactly right. Kevin responds with “Paul’s not a loser.” But he says it in such a tone that you’re not sure if he even believes what he just said. So Kevin responds by attacking him.

All of this leads to an impromptu one-on-one game as Paul challenges Kevin and Kevin verbally bitchslaps him by saying “I’m not in the mood to let you win.”

The outcome? Wait for the rerun. And The Wonder Years really does jump the shark here as Paul clearly has gone through puberty between this episode and the previous.

And that’s just two episodes. We didn’t even touch on Madeline and the bowl of chocolate, the infamous “Sex Book” shoplifting with one of the all-time great sitcom punchlines, the gutwrenching episode where Kevin goes on a pity date with Paul’s sister, the “Winnie likes Paul” two-parter with the kick-ass cliffhanger, and most of all, the godawful series finale where pretty much everything that we hoped would happen to Kevin doesn’t, and we discover that basically the only reason adult Kevin is flashing back to those years were because they were the best of his life.

I love this show because Kevin Arnold is the typical teenager. He does what he thinks is right, but in retrospect, damn, he was really an asshole. I envy those who don’t feel the same looking back at their youth.

The Wonder Years. 9-10pm. Monday-Friday. ION television. Channel 17 on cable. I don’t have a clue what it is on regular TV. Now keep in mind we’re on season 4, and the dreaded season 6, (which is where the show completely falls apart), is coming soon. You may be better off waiting until mid-June when the series starts again. Thanks to the tons of music clearance rights, it’s unlikely the show will be on DVD anytime soon, so check it out now. While you can.

Issue 32: Superhero Information Initiative
By Amdnarg Toh

Bible Man

(Warning – Ranting and raving to commence below.)

Every adult survivor of a conservative religious upbringing has bemoaned the fact that they couldn’t play Dungeons and Dragons because of its satanic overtones, or that they missed out on all of the good music. (I hadn’t even HEARD of Rush until I went to college.) In fact, it could be posited that almost anything from playing cards to Smurfs were lauded as the tools of Satan. As a result of this castigation, all sorts of religious equivalent toys, music groups, and activities were introduced as safe alternatives to the Satan-inspired filth that pop culture was spewing out. I could say more, like how I miss my Beach Boys and classic rock music collection that was destroyed because somewhere I got the idea that listening to secular music was wrong and would lead me down the path to perdition, or how I went to the church sponsored prom “alternative” in lieu of my school’s prom. But this isn’t the editorial column, most esteemed readers, and you’re due some super hero related information, so I’ll let you in on a little-known character called Bibleman, and I’ll kill two birds with one stone.

Miles Peterson, a typical wealthy businessman, finds himself at an ebb in the tide of life. Depressed, he finds he has no direction, no purpose in life. After he finds a bible, via miraculous circumstances in a rainstorm, he finds that he has been transformed, and becomes Bibleman. Endowed with superhuman strength, he dons his armor, the Shoes of Peace, Waistbelt of Truth, Shield of Faith, Breastplate of Righteousness, Helmet of Salvation, and the Sword of the Spirit, and battles the forces of evil with the Word of God. He has a sidekick named Cypher, who basically provides logistical support from the Biblecave, and several other minor support characters. We’re not given a very detailed view into his origins, or past storyline. The forces of evil are personified in the series’ villain, Luxor Spawndroth, who embodies a particular sinful trait in each episode. Bibleman, using the all powerful word of God, defeats the villain with a pithy saying, laden with cliché.

It seems that the folks churning out this stuff are probably more interested in selling merchandise than in really providing a healthy alternative to mainline superhero-dom. There are Bibleman action figures, videos, books, a Bibleman branded Bible, costumes, DVDs, and now a video game… Everything to make this guy a real-world superhero - except for a plausible story line and characters with more than one dimension. Most of the plot devices are direct rip-offs from other more popular similar characters. Cypher looks amazingly like Cyborg from the Teen Titans. Biblegirl? Come on! Amazingly enough, the most interesting character in this wacky line is Luxor Spawndroth, the series’ recurring villain. I’ll take a not-so-rare issue of Captain Carrot over any of this Bibleman crap any day of the week. At least Larry-Boy doesn’t make any pretense of being serious, and is up front about its comic use of mainline narrative devices.

So… I salute all of the closeted nerds out there who survived the wonder years by secreting away copies of Aquaman and Green Lantern comics, shrouded in the cover of Bibleman. Come into the light! Hide no more! Your day has come!

Issue 32: Various and Sundry
By Statica

The Fishy Mr. Griswold

The bathroom is too intimate a place to meet someone for the first time. I must apologize, for I am getting ahead of myself. You probably already know too much at this point. Let me back up by asking a question. Was the web-cam really necessary?

I feel that when one is staying in a new home for the first time, the host should remove all creepy items. These would include web-cams, issues of Maxim and FHM, and any notebook with the working title “Addresses of Girls I Wish to Stalk.” Also, if one sees an inordinate, excessive amount of scented candles and lotions: run.

The above is a list of items found in the house of Roger Griswold. I must say that at first glance I felt quite uncomfortable and in danger. His behavior was a bit queer. I’m not certain if his shower curtain was made of human skin, but needless to say, I did not jump in the bathtub. Jumping in the bathtub is dangerous. I did not see any slip-resistant stickers on the floor of the tub. I’m a man of precaution and prudence. Trampolines are for jumping, bathtubs are for bathing- not cleaning fish, which is what Mr. Griswold was doing when I first met him.

I would have engaged in a friendly, sturdy handshake, but it was covered in fish goo. It was not terribly strange that he was cleaning a fish, (rainbow trout), in his bathing capsule, but the fact that he had a bottle of cherry scented lotion in his back pocket. Is that really how one cleans a fish? Is the lotion necessary? But who am I to determine whether or not fish should experience the joy of lubricated skin?

Did I mention that Mr. Griswold was wearing overalls? That was all he was wearing. The only thing between his hair-clad chest and my personal space was a thin strip of stained denim. The stain did not appear to be friendly. Neither did his chest hair that numbered many.

Anyhow, I am getting off topic, which is somewhat like being off one’s rocker. The previous phrase describes to a T Mr. Griswold’s behavior.

I suppose I just don’t understand what cherry lotion, clean fish, and a web-cam have to do with a normal lifestyle. This is when he-she showed me his knife. I almost had my fill of weird for the evening, but what tipped the weirdness scale is when he began to put on lipstick and asked me to join him for a tea party. What could I do? I did not want to be rude. But at the same time, I did not want to become his next shower curtain.

So I had some tea and left with a lovely guest bag that contained a home video and some scented candles.

Issue 32: Tournament of Villainy
By Rascal Stallion

Godzilla vs Bobby Heenan

Name: Godzilla		Name: Bobby “The Brain” Heenan
Occupation: Metaphor for the Dangers of Atomic Weapons	vs.	Occupation: Professional Wrestling Manager and Announcer
Origin: Godzilla		Origin: Various Professional Wrestling Organizations including WWF & WCW

Bobby Heenan exited Madison Square Garden, satisfied with his performance. He had just announced the matches at the WWF Royal Rumble and was looking forward to partaking in the variety of pleasures a man of his stature could expect in New York City.

He took a few steps down the busy sidewalk when he began to notice a rhythmic thumping. The ground was shaking at steady intervals which appeared to be growing in intensity with each beat. Heenan’s pace quickened to match his rising heart rate. He turned the corner and found himself face to toe with the gigantic foot of Godzilla!

Bobby saw an abandoned cab sitting nearby with the engine still running. He jumped into the car and aimed it at the creature. He jammed a stick into the accelerator, forcing it down and then leaped free from the cab. The car rushed towards the monster and crashed spectacularly into his massive foot.

Godzilla barely felt the automobile strike him and continued walking through the city, completely unaware of the little man trying to harm him. As he passed, Bobby leaped onto Godzilla’s tail and began to climb up the creature’s back. It was grueling work, but Heenan eventually made his way up the dorsal fins all the way to Godzilla’s head.

Once he reached Godzilla’s head he took a moment to peer down. He swayed a little as the reality of the dizzying height dawned on him. Bobby steadied himself and slid down Godzilla’s nose. He grabbed a firm hold of the ridge of the monster’s nose and swung his feet around right into Godzilla’s eyes!

This feat stung Godzilla and he cried out in fury. Heenan swung again and again into Godzilla’s eye. He wasn’t actually hurting the creature but it sure was annoying. Godzilla’s tiny arms prevented him from swatting at the creature. If this didn’t stop soon he was going to go mad.

Godzilla leaped high into the air and in one massive jump landed several miles out into the Atlantic Ocean. Godzilla allowed himself to sink beneath the water. Heenan’s grip was sufficient for a moment but he was quickly washed away beneath the force of the water.

Bobby struggled to find the surface and his lungs burned as they longed for oxygen. He kicked and kicked and was just about to break the plane and take a sweet breath when Godzilla spotted him and swallowed him whole.

Heenan went down easy with a mouthful of seawater. Fortunately for him he drowned before he felt the excruciating pain of his body decomposing in Godzilla’s stomach acid.

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