Cerebus the Aardvark 

Earth Pig

One of my favorite magazines, The Believer, has published a serious essay on one of my favorite comic books, Cerebus, and its creator, Dave Sim. As far as I know, this is the first literary treatment of Sim's epic I've seen in a publication not immediately geared toward the comix audience.

Unfortunately, you can't read the entire essay online (yet). I just got my subscription copy in the mail this week, so the issue should be appearing in bookstores anytime now. (The Believer is always worth picking up; this month's issue also features interviews with Devo's Mark Mothersbaugh, Sarah Silverman, and Tom Stoppard.)

I read Cerebus for more than 20 years. The first issue I picked up (back in the early 80's) was initially appealing to me because of the Wolverine parody featured in the story. But it wasn't long before I fell into Sim's extended storyline (even if, at times, I had no idea what was going on in the storyline). I even had some of my letters published in a few of the issues.

The entire series runs over 6000 pages and has been collected into 16 volumes (affectionately known among fans as "the phonebooks"). My two personal favorites are Rick's Story, an incredibly disturbing portrait of the man who, relatively early in the series, ends up married to Cerebus' lost love, Jaka. As Douglas Wolk writes in his essay, Rick is "a gullible dweeb at first, sweet-hearted but not too bright. In his later years, he's delusional to the point of derangement, interpreting everything in his environment--a bar, a chair, a woman who flirts with him--as a religious portent. The "holy book" he writes is the work of a hopeless, obsessive schizophrenic. He is also, as it happens, the true prophet of God."

My other favorite is, oddly enough, Jaka's Story, which relates the childhood and sheltered upbringing of the aforementioned lost love. Jaka's biography is penned by Oscar Wilde (or, at least, a character very much like him) and builds to a shattering climax involving a police squad of repressive feminists.

Yeah, well, you have to kind of develop a taste for it.

If you're familiar with Neil Gaiman's Sandman series, Sim, at one point in his narrative, offered what Gaiman has called "easily the best parody of Sandman anyone's ever done." According to Gaiman, if you write Sim a letter (Sim is a notorious Luddite), he will send you a free signed copy of one of the issues.

Sim is one of the greatest living cartoonists, and Cerebus has had an enormous influence on me. I can't recommend it highly enough--if you ask nicely, I'll even buy you one of the phonebooks to get you started. If you have any interest in comix at all, you need to familiarize yourself with the work of Dave Sim.

UPDATE: Jesus Hot Tops

As a follow-up to my previous post, I offer this item from the October/November issue of Free Inquiry:

Graphic images and religious sentiments are being combined to produce a new line of T-shirts that will offend some, satisfy others, and will perhaps be a money-maker for marketers of Christian-themed items. Some samples: The "Lord's Gym T-shirt" shows Jesus Christ straining under the cross, then the words, "The weight of the world's sins. Bench press this!" Also from the Christian apparel company Living Epistles is the "spiritual warfare" shirt: under the slogan "Razing Hell" a demon is shown getting beaten up. Marketers are hoping the shirts will boost clothing sales, which now account for 2 percent of the $4 billion in Christian retail sales, although this figure does not include online sales of T-shirts or sales at festivals and concerts. Also to watch is reaction from school administrators, who may be in a quandary over whether to allow the shirts, with their overtly religious messages, in schools.

The Christian Science Monitor has also posted an interesting story on Christian fashion (as sported by corrupt Hollywood celebrities like Lara Flynn Boyle!).

Someone should do a survey to figure out whose face has appeared on more t-shirts: Jesus or Kurt Cobain. Images of crosses, shotguns, Dave Grohl, or syringes don't count!

A Failed Boy 

The Fatherless

Two great essays in the New York Times Book Review this week, one that nearly brought me to tears and another that did. Both essays concern amazingly insightful creators whose absentee fathers and rampant substance abuse led them to what's become known in the entertainment biz as "tragically early deaths." Not surprisingly, perhaps, I identify with these kinds of people, more so than is probably healthy (but, hey, I at least was able to make it past 35).

Garrison Keillor's essay on Hank Williams (the subject of a new book by Paul Hemphill) affected me more because of Keillor's understated sympathy for his subject than for the writing itself. I like Keillor's work, but he's not always the most subtle of writers. In this essay, however, he assumes a certain familiarity in his audience with Williams and his legend, and Keillor uses that familiarity to inform us not only of Williams' truly ground-breaking work in popular music, but the ugly details of his addiction as well. There is a mountain of unspoken heartbreak in the final paragraph of this essay.

John Leonard's essay on the life of James Agee (whose work has been collected in two new volumes by the Library of America) is much less forgiving and nowhere near as sentimental. Leonard emphasizes the more lurid details of Agee's biography that the LOA volumes pass over, but the essay carries all the more weight by doing so. I'd been familiar with Agee's film criticism and his famous Depression-era collaboration with Walker Evans, Let Us Now Praise Famous Men, for some time before I realized they were the work of the same man. Agee's writings on film are notable for the way he manages to express disappointment in films he appreciates, and the high expectations he holds for filmmakers and actors. I can't think of any contemporary critics who hold the movies to such a high standard anymore without falling into blanket praise for anything that doesn't come out of Hollywood. Agee, writing in the 1940s and 50s, had no such convenient escape route and held filmmakers to his unwavering standards.

None of these standards seemed to help guide him through the train wreck of his personal life, and Leonard's straightforward discussion of Agee's personal failings serves as a cold reminder of how completely, sadly, human he was, despite the colossal strength of his writing. Leonard's two-page essay is one of the most disturbing I've ever read in the Book Review.

While I'm busy praising the Times this week, I should also mention that the NYT Magazine has started running a weekly comic strip by Chris Ware. Ware seems to be the new Caesar of the comix world, the latest go-to guy for people who are still surprised at the existence of comix written for (and by) adults, but I don't say this as a criticism of Ware's work. His innovative page designs and miniscule renderings of his characters' small (and frequently fatherless) lives have a sad beauty not unlike the ultimately empty lives of people like Hank Williams and James Agee.

Ware's strip for the Magazine is not what I would expect from him. The strip (composed as a single page) depicts the inner voice of a run-down New York apartment building and its reactions to the people who live inside it. While Ware's artistic design remains impressive, I'm not sure where he's going with this scenario or if it will end up being as effective as some of his other work. But I'm pleased that such a starkly traditional publication like the Times would even consider inviting someone like Ware to contribute to their pages, so I'm willing to take the strip as a plus.

Finally, as far as iconic heroes with troubled lives and missing fathers go, there is perhaps none so miserably familiar to the world as Anakin ("Darth Vader") Skywalker, and what better way to let his life serve as an example to us all than by placing a representation of his charred and limbless body on your desk? Hasbro, which recently released its 500th Star Wars action figure (none other than Vader in his meditation chamber, complete with a lever that allows you to lift off his helmet and practice your best General Veers expression of respectful disgust), has come out with this fantastically funny Anakin figure (with "Battle Action," no less). George Lucas deserves some finger-wagging for enticing children to come see a protagonist who kills other children and ends up being nearly murdered by his best friend, but I hope this latest incarnation of Anakin in action figure form will end up at a lot of birthday parties for the next few months. And if Daddy has to deliver it to Junior through the mail because he's off on a business trip, well, that's show biz, kid.

Heart-Shaped Box 

Praying Is a Crime?

I found out this morning that the otherwise laid-back coffee shop I've been frequenting on Sunday mornings is a front for a "non-denominational" Christian group (talk about a contradiction in terms!). The owner of the shop is also the pastor for the Sunday afternoon services. I've always been curious about the process of combining religion with commerce, at least with businesses other than Christian book stores. Think of the mailing lists one could sell!

The woman who works the counter at this shop on Sundays is always blindingly cheerful. I had intially thought this was due more to effective employee training than a naturally friendly disposition (such is my cynical outlook on coffee shop employees), but when I overheard her on the phone giving information about the services I experienced a brief moment of prejudicial assessment: "Ah, she's friendly because she's a Christian."

Don't get me wrong. I've met plenty of unpleasant Christians in my day (most of them seem to sit in the front row of my classrooms, for some reason), but I was surprised by my brief inclination to give someone the benefit of the doubt (in this case, determining the rationale behind a sunny personality) based on my assumptions about their faith. I must look into this further. And maybe flog myself.

After overhearing this phone conversation, I started looking around the shop with more curiousity. On a rack of t-shirts that I had previously not given much attention was one of those baby blue midriff-exposing sized women's shirts with this slogan: "Praying Is Not a Crime".

I guess most people who frequent coffee shops would be familiar with the old adage about skateboarding, but seeing the same sentiments expressed toward the prayerful was something of a surprise. First of all, this coffee shop is in Utah (one of the few places, I'd warrant, where you would regularly hear someone order a decaf espresso, as I did this morning), an area not immediatlely recognized for its secularism (as opposed to, say, Las Vegas). Secondly, this country is currently being run (into the ground) by a president who's become fond of holding National Days of Prayer in the face of any emergency and who touts the benefits of Christian-based detox programs (or trading one unhealthy addiction for another) by throwing plenty of government funding at them.

My question, then, is: where is it in this state or nation that prayer is considered a crime anyway? This attitude of Christian prosecution among the Faithful is becoming rather obnoxious, particularly when it's compared with the many legal restrictions faced by, for example, skateboarders, or the general disregard given to, say, atheists, in times of national emergency (Where is our National Day of Remembrance?).

For unintentionally amusing Christian t-shirts, however, my local coffee shop has nothing on the slogan I saw on a non-midriff-exposing t-shirt I saw last February in an Ohio coffee shop which read "Jesus Is My Valentine" and sported a picture of the aforementioned love interest surrounded by a heart-shaped halo. (Where's Kurt Cobain when you need him?)

I'm sure there's lots of money to be made in the Christian clothing industry (calling all Wal-Marts!), but I hope those people who are tempted to reduce their personal beliefs to an easily digestible slogan remember that false claims of persecution are usually met with the kind of sneer only a skateboarder could love.

UPDATE: This coffee shop, I also found out today, also hosts an improv comedy group on Friday nights. I'm dying to know if this is a Christian improv comedy group and, if so, whether or not they pray for good crowds. More on this later, perhaps.

Music Picks of the Week

Have you ever walked out of a record store, flush with anticipation toward your new purchases, eager to tear off the filmy wrapping from your new CDs, and hoping one of the albums you've just bought will change your life? If this happens to you, it's important not to look at how much you just spent. A little tip from me to you.

Luckily, we have the Almighty Internet, which brings us music for cheap. This week's edition of my new favorite songs seems to favor the ladies.

Fiona Apple: "O' Sailor"
Fiona has gotten a bad rap lately, what with her on-stage tantrums, her needlessly long album titles, and her three-year absence from the new release racks. You may have heard that she recorded an entire album that was promptly rejected by the executives at her record company (the result of Fiona's hard work, entitled Extraordinary Machine, is widely availble as an internet bootleg). I am working on a recording industry conspiracy theory which will show how Fiona was forced to go underground for several months and record under the psuedonym of Regina Spektor--look her up.

But all this is in the past now, and Fiona is set to release her official new album. She seems a little less pouty and more pissy in this number, set to a wonderfully banging set of piano chords. (And please note the naval reference--Regina Spektor sports a sailor's hat in many of her publicity photos, and she certainly drinks like a sailor, or so go the rumours.) Anyway, this song brings Fiona back to the Real World at long last. Enjoy, ye mateys!

The Like: "You Bring Me Down"
You're probably as bored as I am with groups of stunningly attractive women with music industry connections whose videos play non-stop in every local Gap and Starbucks. With their pouty lips and heaving bosoms and tightly torn clothing, you'd think there was a shortage of struggling musicians. But turns out this threesome, er, trio actually know how to play, or at least have the sense to find producers who can it make it sound like they actually know how to play. I'm not going to swear that you won't see a suspiciously large curtain serving as the backdrop for their first concert tour, but for the moment, I'm willing to give these hoochies the benefit of the doubt, especially if all their songs are this catchy.

Bonnie Raitt: "The Bed I Made"
Bonnie has always been stunningly attractive, but her days of torn clothing (particularly as a result of her drunken binges) are probably behind her now. But Bonnie doesn't need anything to distract my attention because her voice and her guitar are really the only things I pay attention to when I hear them. Her guitar is missing from this number, but this is perhaps one of her finest vocal performances--a heartbreaking heartbreak song complete with a mournful jazz piano lurking in the shadows. I could play this all night.

Cowboy Junkies: Early 21st Century Blues
I was trying to pick just one of the songs from this album to discuss here, but I really can't single out one from the others. Part of the reason for this is that they all carry much the same vibe: soft acoustic instrumentation and echoey vocals, much like their earlier album The Trinity Sessions which brought them to the attention of a lot of people. It's not hard to imagine that the Junkies are reaching for similar sales figures with this album, but these thematically linked covers of anti-war songs create a vibe all their own. Before you start searching for your hippie medication, these are not the kinds of anti-war songs you hear on the Good Time Oldies Station. These are covers of songs by familiar names like Dylan, Richie Havens, Lennon, George Harrison, and Springsteen, but these are not the songs you're used to hearing. This album was playing in the record shop during my last visit, and I experienced one of those "I'm-probably-going-to-buy-this-even-though-I've-already-found-what-I-was-looking-for-and-I-really-shouldn't-be-spending-any-more-money" moments, but since I've started playing the album, I haven't regretted the moment at all. Never look back!

Paul McCartney: "Riding to Vanity Fair"
OK, Macca isn't a girl (though I think he was the most feminine of the Beatles and he did marry a woman half his age), but I have to give a shout-out to this, the most listenable song from Sir Paul in at least a decade. I very much enjoyed his collaborative work with Elvis Costello on the Flowers in the Dirt album, but there was a lot of crap on that record, too. And though Sir Paul will always have a place in Rock & Roll Band Camp, I have never felt compelled to collect his solo work, especially in the last 25 years or so. I'm not saying I'm gonna re-evaluate that decision based on this song, but it is nice to see that somewhere beneath all that sunny dyed-hair torch-carrying bullshit, there still beats the heart of a guy who, once upon a time with his mates, changed everything we knew about popular music. Welcome back, Dad.

Assholes (BTW, I'm Back!)

Remember when people used to get offended whenever Bush and his cronies would employ references to 9/11 as a campaigning strategy? Now we just sit back, slap a ribbon on our cars, and change the station whenever a story comes on about another roadside bombing.

Bush, not surprisingly, hasn't changed much. In fact, he seems determined to prove in the remaining years of his administration that absolutely nothing is below him, including his use of the Katrina disaster as a means of promoting his war on terrorism:

You know, something we -- I've been thinking a lot about how America has responded, and it's clear to me that Americans value human life, and value every person as important. And that stands in stark contrast, by the way, to the terrorists we have to deal with. You see, we look at the destruction caused by Katrina, and our hearts break. They're the kind of people who look at Katrina and wish they had caused it. We're in a war against these people. It's a war on terror. These are evil men who target the suffering. They killed 3,000 people on September the 11th, 2001. And they've continued to kill. See, sometimes we forget about the evil deeds of these people. They've killed in Madrid, and Istanbul, and Baghdad, and Bali, and London, and Sharm el-Sheikh, and Jerusalem, and Tel Aviv. Around the world they continue to kill.

Bush chose to make this awkward transition during an address to the Republican Jewish Coalition. You can read the full text here. The only thing possibly more slimy than Bush's use of Katrina as a propaganda device are his oily off-the-cuff intros of his friends and cronies in attendence.

While we're on the subject of shameful political maneuvers, Chazzbott would like to send a hearty virtual-spit-in-the-eye to the following Democratic members of the Senate Judiciary Committee who have decided to support the nomination of Judge John G. Roberts, a man about whose judicial proclivities we still know practically nothing, as Chief Justice of the Supreme Court:

Senator Patrick J. Leahy of Vermont
Senator Max Baucus of Montana
Senator Tim Johnson of South Dakota
Senator Mary L. Landrieu of Lousiana

I'm not the kind of person who would oppose any Republican nominee to the Court on the grounds that, you know, they were nominated by a Republican. But what was the purpose of those confirmation hearings? Was it all just an elaborate rubber stamp, held so that committee members could perform for the cameras? Did we learn anything about Roberts during those hearings other than his two favorite movies?

I try not to be cynical about politics. Really. But I can't see any justification in voting for a nominee who doesn't even have the political foresight to tie in his nomination with the war on terror. I mean, how serious can this guy be?

BTW, sorry I've been gone so long from the blog. I think everything is in order now. I don't know how many of you are actually still hanging around to read this stuff, but I promise to get back on schedule with regular posts. I mean, what else are you going to do with your wretched lives, right?

Be Back Soon

Just a programming note: I won't be making any new posts for the next few days (as you may have already noticed). I'm changing my ISP and my place of residence.

But we will have a lot to talk about when I get back.

Please check in again at the end of the week!

"America will be a stronger place for it." 

Bush to New Orleans: Feel Better

In the face of one of the most catastrophic natural events to ever hit a major American city, here's what George Bush had to say:

The folks on the Gulf Coast are going to need the help of this country for a long time. This is going to be a difficult road. The challenges that we face on the ground are unprecedented. But there's no doubt in my mind we're going to succeed.

Right now, the days seem awfully dark for those affected. I understand that. But I'm confident that, with time, you'll get your life back in order. New communities will flourish. The great city of New Orleans will be back on its feet. And America will be a stronger place for it.

What is this, a fucking high school football game?

Many other outlets are disturbed by Bush's seeming lack of concern, among them the NY Times which published this scathing editorial; and CNN's Jack Cafferty, who offered these remarks.

Of even further interest is this article from The American Prospect that appeared back in May of this year warning of the catastrophic flooding that a Category 4 or 5 hurricane would inflict on New Orleans. Turns out that N'awlins was planning to begin upgrading its levees with monetary assistance from the federal government, but the cash ended up being diverted to fund the ongoing shithole that is Iraq.

And don't even get me started on how long the Bush administration has been denying that global warming exists. What happened to New Orleans is, I fear, just a warm-up act (if you'll pardon the pun).

Meanwhile, rats are eating corpses, children in the Superdome are being raped, and looters are taking over the cities. Some fucking help, Mr. President?

Something you can do: As part of Blog for Relief Weekend, I'd like to encourage anyone reading this to donate to Habitat for Humanity, one of many organizations providing concrete assistance to victims of Katrina. You can learn about the other organizations here, and more about the Blog for Relief efforts here. In order to track the level of donation per blog, you can log your contribution.

I'm a relative newbie in the Blogsphere, but I like being able to offer some real assistance while I continue bitching about our useless president. And, yes, it's a political situation now.