burned flesh, irreversible blindness, cutting through some metals: these are all the first steps to making my Jedi dreams come true. Wicked Lasers has developed a lightsaber-like product that can inflict loads of damage, but without the philosophical claptrap to get in the way of some real mayhem.
Wicked Lasers radically redefines the way we see lasers yet again. For the first time in history, direct blue laser diodes have now become available in the consumer market. Wicked Lasers took the direct blue laser diode components and made the world’s first 445nm direct blue diode laser, the Arctic.
The Artic emits a 445nm cool blue, ultra high power 1W beam which appears up to 4000% brighter than the Sonar’s 405nm violet beam. This direct blue laser diode is the result of the evolution of laser technology. Less than one year ago, this laser would have cost thousands of dollars to build. Don’t let the Arctic name fool you, this laser possesses the most burning capabilities of any portable laser in existence. That’s why it’s also the most dangerous laser ever created.
And I need to get one before the FAA decides that no one needs that much power hanging on their belt.
Hey! If for no reason in particular, you might be thinking, “I want to get Sean something special, but, what? Whatever could I get him?” You might want to consider this, the RENT, Roger Davis bear from Broadway Cares/Equity Fights AIDS:
And he comes with all this cool stuff:
Roger wears an exact duplicate of his Broadway costume. First seen at the top of ACT II during the emotionally charged “Seasons Of Love”, this faithful re-creation consists of Roger’s black and white geometric-print sleeveless button down shirt, straight leg pin-stripe pants (both cut from the cloth of the original costumes), green hand-knit scarf and black leather biker jacket with the portentous and tragic hand-painted “Only Good Die Young” logo on the back. His brown leather “New Rock” boots have been eternalized in miniature form, and his grunge-cut, frosted blonde wig has been perfectly styled. Finally, Roger comes with his very own (working!) acoustic guitar and stand, which will certainly help as he finds “…the power to ignite the air” and write his “One Song Glory”. Once he looks into “Your Eyes” you’ll know that he can’t live “Without You”!
Included in this lot is a hand-signed “eviction-notice” prop from the 2005 film RENT, signed by Anthony Rapp and Adam Pascal as well as a set of Roger’s “old rock and roll posters, advertisting gigs at CBGB’s and The Pyramid Club” used in the final days of RENT’s Broadway run.
Did you see that? SIGNED BY ANTHONY RAPP AND ADAM PASCAL!!!!
All the iconic Broadway Cares bears up for auction can be seen here. All proceeds go to help people living with AIDS.
Thanks to Joe Jervis!
At six o’clock the Thursday after Labor Day, I told my students, “It’s new comics day. I love you. Get out.” They probably didn’t believe the “I love you” part, but they knew I meant “Get out.” What could I do? Their young, impressionable, yearning minds were keeping me from getting Absolute New Frontier.
It’s enough to say that I got the ANF (only $75.00 minus an additional 10%, thanks ABC!), but it wasn’t all I got. Of course.
Collecting is a sickness. It is. In order to be a good collector, one needs to feel that unless one has every member of a set, then one is incomplete. One also needs to not care about potential financial ruin or personal relationships (which, contrary to a popular song lyric, do require money to seal the deal; I mean, for anyone with self-esteem) . All that matters is completeness. Completeness is one. If you don’t believe me, go to San Diego for Comic Con one year. You’ll see what I mean.
Having poor impulse control helps, too. It helps a lot.
Here’s what I love about the Absolute editions (besides the annotations): they’re large and heavy, which means they’re important, which means they’re worth having. Seriously, these things have more gravitas than Ian McKellen doing King Lear for the Kennedy family. To further illustrate this, I own the Arkham Horror series of boardgames. All of them. I’ve never played them, but, God help me, together they weigh almost 40 pounds and have over 2,000 playing pieces. That alone is enough for me to have invested close to $300 in them.
Let me say that again: I’ve never played them.
You see where this is going.
Absolute New Frontier is sitting on my shelf. Still in the shrink wrap. Still unread. And going to stay that way. Pristine. My boyfriend expressed dismay about this. And if she knew about it, I’m sure my mother would, too.
Even with a 10% discount (everyday on trade paperback and graphic novels!) $75 seemed a bit steep, but $60 seemed perfectly reasonable and $47 seemed like I was holding a gun to someone’s head, or so I told myself when I saw that’s how much Absolute Crisis on Infinite Earths, Absolute Sandman Volume One and Absolute Kingdom Come cost on Amazon.com respectively. And these weren’t even the New & Used, these were off-the-Amazon-shelves-and-still-shrink-wrapped new. What could I do? I’m a collector what a thing for gravitas and annotations. I got them. And when they arrive they will go to my shelf. Unwrapped. Unread. Pristine.
Billy Mumy’s cornfield was never so wonderfully populated.
In my own defense (sorta), I didn’t buy Seduction of the Innocent as I had originally planned. I researched the book a bit and found that the original publisher cut two pages out of the book (the bibliography) to avoid any possible lawsuit, even if it did destroy the integrity of the book’s research. My goal now is to own a copy with those pages intact. I have some self-control and pride. But only some. And I’m pretty sure even Neil Gaiman doesn’t own this book. So, watch out, Neil; I’m gonna be one up on you yet!
Xposted at CPB
With summer being over, I’m on my own in the evenings more often than not. My boyfriend is back at school, as am I, and living in different counties means casual visits don’t happen on school nights. There is also nothing on TV I have to watch. Yet. This leaves me with the dog and my laptop and my obsessive thoughts. Once I get an idea in my head, it paces from one lobe to another like a caged panther, and though I had more or less dismissed the idea of owning Absolute New Frontier because it was cost prohibitive, well, there’s always Amazon New & Used to check out.
See, the panther finds sneaky ways out of the cage.
The first thing I found out was that Absolute New Frontier was (and still is) OOP. Which meant it was $100. Which meant I needed to get back to ABC before their stock was gone because if there’s one thing that makes me wetter than annotations it’s “OOP”. It’s the bell that undams the drool. Unfortunately, this was late last Tuesday night (like, after midnight late), and I wouldn’t have a real reason to go to ABC until Thursday when the new comics were shelved. But beast had to be fed. Immediately. So, I went back to the beginning: Gaiman’s shelves.
[stage whisper] I have a good word and a bad word for whomever took the pictures of the Gaiman library: the subject matter is rare air, heady and unbelievable; however, the blow-ups are blurry, bad bad quality pics for someone had the pro credentials to get into Neilland. They frustrate the girl with an eye on her own library. Still, before an hour was gone, I had stacked an impressive pile of books in my Amazon cart (my own invisible plane, as it were), including Shadows Over Baker Street, Tonight, Somewhere in New York, The Brand-X Anthology of Poetry, The Brand-X Anthology of Fiction, The Secret Files of the Diogenes Club, The Ten-Cent Plague and Anno-Dracula. I balked at a copy of Seduction of the Innocent, which I’m now reconsidering because, ya know, “OOP”.
Shameless, I know. Actually plagiarizing someone else’s library. There should be a law.
Having successfully spent more money on books than I had on food for the month, I settled on the couch with the dog and considered my spree over with one codicil: I would get Absolute New Frontier the next day, then I could consider the panther at rest.
Right?
To be continued…
Labor Day weekend meant that my local comics shop – Austin Books and Comics – had its annual sale on selected hardcovers, complete series’ sets and trade paperbacks. Being an American and therefore a consumer, I went to see if they had anything I couldn’t live without. At first, there really wasn’t, though I lingered on a complete set of Scurvy Dogs for about twenty minutes longer than was necessary for the staff to come back and check on me several times. Then I saw Absolute New Frontier.
Oh my.
When New Frontier debuted, I looked at the issue, but didn’t really have any abiding interest in the series. It wasn’t until I saw the animated movie that I realized what a work of genius the story was. I got the set on eBay that night. Now, I was confronted with an Absolute edition of this great story, complete with annotations. ooOOOh. Nothing makes me wetter than annotations; they’re like secrets told around the water cooler, historical rumors. And the price of all this deliciousness was $75.00.
And that popped the balloon. There was no way I was gong to spend $75 on this book, no matter how cool. There went my dream of having the Gaiman library. If I wasn’t going to commit the money (my money, at least; should a sugar daddy come along, I’d have no problem spending his money), there was no way I’d be able to fill a single room with books, let alone a whole basement.
That was, until I went to Amazon.com later that week.
To be continued…
Xposted at CPB
I’m going to blame Neil Gaiman.
A few weeks ago, Shelfari posted pictures of Gaiman’s home library, and I simply had to have it. I have never been more envious of anyone of anything ever. Ever. However, not knowing the guy, I can say with some assuredness that he’s not going to bequeath his Lexical Heaven to me ‘cuz I’m such a swell person. So, I invented a fantasy in which it was totally possible for me to have his library and read it too: a Zombie Apocalypse. There’s me, see, a lonely survivor of the Awakening making my way cross country after Austin is mostly decimated (in all actuality, Austin would probably be one of the few cities in the the US to survive a zombie attack; everyone here knows the best ways to defend against them and it’s Texas, so guns and ammo are readily available at any convenience store (though I see myself more as a samurai sword-and-shillelagh kind of survivor)) to Gaiman’s Minnesota abode. There, I meet my family and a handful of other like-minded (i.e., “well-read”) survivors, and we make our way to Gaiman’s basement. He’s not there, nor is his family. I’m not sure where they are in my fantasy. I know they’re not dead because I’m certain I don’t want to live in a post-apocalyptic Gaiman-less world. I mean, that’s just too bleak. Maybe they’re waiting out the Awakening on an island somewhere. It doesn’t matter. They’re not there, and JOY!! the library is also a panic room. So, we lock ourselves in and spend our days reading and telling stories al la The Decameron. The library is mine. The end.
I know what you’re thinking: On what desert island with no hope of rescue will that be happening? Well, of course, it’s a fantasy, but I still couldn’t stop looking at the pictures of what a real home library could be if one happened to be as wealthy, talented and literate as Neil Gaiman. Being none of those, there was really only one option for me: I had to buy every book in his library for myself. Finances be damned!
And don’t think I won’t do it!
To be continued…
Xposted at CPB
Xposted at ComicsPlusBlog
I have a few major entertainment purchases in mind for the Fall, the first of which being a Fry Daddy. And anyone who knows me knows I’m not kidding. I have a vision of deep-fried brownie appetizers and chicken fried chicken entrees. Dessert would kill a lesser man from just looking at it. I plan to lick a raw hot dog to stay svelte and have an unethical doctor transfuse me with blood from five-year olds. And not the morbidly obese Xbox-bound five-year olds either. The active kind with ruddy cheeks and a zest for life. My guy knows a guy in Pleasantville.
But more in keeping with the spirit of this site, I’m desperately looking forward to Volume One of the Bloom County Complete Library from IDW. Is there anyone who grew up in the 80’s or who has a sense of the importance of this strip who isn’t ordering it? Hell, pre-order it at Amazon.com and get 34% off (I did!) just to give it a try if you’ve never heard if it before.
Berekley Breathed’s Bloom County was the strip that defined the 80’s (God help me, those were my high school years) for me and formed my sense of humor and my politics (mostly a sense of being able to mock politics). Though the strip started off with a heavy conservative slant – an early one shows Milo and his grandfather hunting the endangered American Liberal with a lure of “Socialized medicine! Socialized medicine!” – it became more moderate over time, even going so far, some may say, as to embrace a liberal agenda (or at least a position that allowed for more editorial-type cartooning of both sides of the Aisle) showing respect for Jesse Jackson as a presidential contender, though one Mr. Jones says that it was not then time for a black President (oh, foresight!). Of course, I didn’t know that. All I knew was that the cast of Bloom County had impeccable comic timing and totally quotable lines. Even today when mocking pretentious, name-dropping boobs, I often fall back on, “Oh, and give Imelda a squeeze for me.” Dated, but it brings a smile to my face.
Though many today probably don’t remember (indeed, or even care about) Imelda Marcos, it moments like that which make the Complete Bloom County even more important. While strips like Cathy highlighted and lamented the woes of singleshood and expanding waistlines, and For Better or for Worse documented the growth of a family, Bloom County may be the most comprehensive record of event of the 1980’s outside of Doonesbury. It’s more than a comic strip – it’s an historical document of feminism, sexism, political correctness, the downfall of parenting and personal responsibility, the ADA, election years, the rise of televangelism, popery, and the financial excesses spawned while the MTV generation was grooving to “The Safety Dance”. And this is all to say nothing of the impact Bloom County had on popular culture. This is me and my friend Mike at Niagara Falls circa 1989. Notice (if you can; we were using a Disc Camera) his holding Opus and my wearing a Billy and the Boingers t-shirt. Try not to notice whatever is going on with my face and the distressingly short shorts.
IDW plans to publish five volumes of strips starting this October with a new volume released every six months. Don’t take my word for it, but there’s going to be a lot of joy and love put into this project. You should really be there for it.
This probably isn’t the time to mention my Ally McBeal Complete Season One pre-order….
I’ve become an indiscriminate reader of personal ads on craigslist, which means that while I used to read only the M4M ads for my own pornographic enjoyment, I’ve branched out to all the other x4x variations (including the sadly desperate “missed connections“), though I get less, let’s call it “enjoyment” out of the pictures and ad text than I do in M4M. One thing I’ve come to notice is that gay men (and a few “straight” guys) are way more willing to show window shoppers the goods up front along with detailed descriptions of what they want to do/have done to them, but will not show face pics, whereas straight men and women will show you their faces and give just as lurid descriptions of sexual desires as the gay folk, but won’t show their junk. What this means really is that if there’s an ad with a “pic” graphic next to it, I’m more likely to find what I want to see/read about in the M4M section than in any of the others, but in the final analysis I’m probably just rationalizing my enjoyment of porn.
Every once in a while, I get surprised by pictures like this:
more behind the wrinkle
First, from extrafuerte is a man-on-wolf little red riding hood (a theme making its way through my life of late) t-shirt:
Then there is The Atlas of True Names. Imagine the whole world known by what their names mean and not by how they are pronounced by the modern tongue. The Himalayas, for instance, would be called “House of Winter” because “hima” means “winter”, and “-alaya” means “house, abode”. It’s a brilliant piece of work and would look great next to my copy of the Map of Humanity.
No real gift-giving holidays are coming up soon, but it doesn’t hurt to plan ahead.
For those whose taste in camp knows no bounds, they too can impress the hell out of their friends by owning a Batphone! can i get a “Holy Ma Bell, Batman?”
Anyone saying “Screw the iphone! I want a Batphone!”?
–Thanks to Scott!
