My Favorite Year, Part Two: It's a Travesty!

I was still a big WWF fan when I began fifth grade, with the events of SummerSlam '91 still fresh in the minds of the Federation's followers.

That event boasted an instant classic match in Bret Hart's victory over Mr. Perfect, and still holds together as an entire card.

Nothing, however, could prepare me, or anyone really, for September's big development: the arrival of Ric Flair.




By September 1991, the "Nature Boy" was already regarded as a living legend, much like his opposite number in the WWF, Hulk Hogan. Hardcore fans often speculated throughout the 1980s as to who would win between the two in a veritable "dream match." Flair's signing with the World Wrestling Federation finally opened up that possibility, and despite quickly rekindling an old feud with Rowdy Roddy Piper from their National Wrestling Alliance days, Flair and Hogan's paths were destined to cross.

Hogan was also fated to meet a rising star within the company, one who had amassed an impressive undefeated streak in just under a year with the company. He was given a title shot at Survivor Series 1991, facing the Hulkster with his "gravest challenge."

That rising star was the Undertaker.


The Survivor Series is WWE's Thanksgiving tradition. Originally held on Thanksgiving, then on Thanksgiving Eve, it's now usually scheduled for the Sunday before Thanksgiving. At the time, it was a unique concept: a pay-per-view event consisting entirely of massive tag team elimination matches.

The rules were simple: Teams of four or five (it's fluctuated over the years, but in 1991, there were four to a team, with an exception) battled it out in tag team matches, except that rather than go to one fall, each match would continue until one team was eliminated entirely. Wrestlers could be eliminated via pinfall, submission, disqualification or count out. The winners were called "the survivors."

The biggest value of Survivor Series was seeing one's favorite wrestlers fighting side by side in these huge matches. Babyfaces who didn't usually team up were suddenly banded together, against similarly teamed heels. The format and rules led to matches of potentially epic length and caliber.

1991's Survivor Series didn't really have a lot of those matches, but like SummerSlam before it, the lineup of talent involved was astounding, with Hulk Hogan and Ric Flair at the top of the list.

The main purpose of Survivor Series was to further a couple of key angles.

First, there was the matter of Ric Flair and Hulk Hogan. Surely, they couldn't immediately go after each other, as that dream match between the two was like a blank check for McMahon to cash so long as he cashed it judiciously. But you couldn't have two top dogs in one company without them noticing each other. Fortunately, the depth of the Federation roster was ridiculous at the time, and you had a guy like Undertaker with a lot of heat, who posed a legitimate threat to Hulk Hogan's title reign. Not since Andre the Giant challenged the Hulkster in 1987 had there been that kind of a monster heel to place in front of Hogan.

On the opposite hand, Flair needed an initial focus for his attention, which came in the form of Roddy Piper, who instantly took offense to Flair's posturing and proclamation that he was the "real World Champion." Their program was a natural fit for the two veterans, the unruly, working class fan favorite versus the cocky and cultured heel.


The other big storyline going into Survivor Series actually began immediately after SummerSlam ended. Following the pay-per-view, the Savages invited all of the Federation's faces to the reception, which was the social event of the year. Laughs were had and gifts were brought...but one gift was more suspicious than the others. Bobby Heenan earlier mentioned that Jake "the Snake" Roberts and the Undertaker were spotted at the Garden, but it was at the reception that they made their presence felt. As Elizabeth and Randy opened their wedding presents, one box exploded open in the bride's hands--a cobra was inside, waiting to strike at the happy couple. Were it not for the quick actions of Sid Justice, the blessed union would have had a quick and tragic end.

As a result, Randy Savage campaigned for fans to deluge the Federation with calls asking for his reinstatement, as he was retired following a career match loss to the Ultimate Warrior at Wrestlemania VII. This effort picked up after Roberts attacked Savage on an episode of Superstars and had his cobra bite Savage's arm. (Ironically enough, the venomless cobra died shortly after biting Savage. Go figure.) Savage was reinstated by WWF President Jack Tunney (a ceremonial figurehead whose function was a human deus ex machina) shortly after the incident, and immediately targeted the Snake.

However, Savage and Roberts would not meet at the Survivor Series. Roberts was originally to lead a team against Sid Justice, but when Sid suffered an injury in a singles match against Roberts, that match was changed to a three-on-three encounter. Roberts and Savage's grudge match was booked for an event the following Tuesday in San Antonio (titled Tuesday in Texas), and their feud was represented through interviews with each man (and Miss Elizabeth) at Survivor Series.

The rest of the Survivor Series was booked in fairly solid fashion. Following a replay of the cobra incident, the card opened with Ric Flair's team, featuring the "Million Dollar Man" Ted DiBiase, the Mountie and the Warlord, against Rowdy Roddy Piper's team of Bret Hart, Davey Boy Smith, and Virgil. Davey Boy and the Warlord were eliminated midway trough the match (by Flair and Hart, respectively), but it was Flair who emerged as sole survivor after a giant in-ring brawl ended in everyone's disqualification save for the Nature Boy. Conveniently, he was outside the ring at the time, having been thrown out by Piper.

Sergeant Slaughter and Hacksaw Jim Duggan led their team, which included Tito Santana (who had been re-branded "El Matador" prior to the event) and the "Texas Tornado" Kerry Von Erich, into battle against Colonel Mustafa (formerly and again since, the Iron Sheik), the Berzerker, Hercules and the Skinner. Slaughter and Mustafa were once allies, when Slaughter betrayed his American allegiances for Iraq, but shortly after SummerSlam '91, the good Sarge turned face once again. Strangely, this turn was detailed mainly in a WWF Magazine article, rather than onscreen. Screw it, I was just happy to have Slaughter back on our side, as were the fans in attendance.

The rest of Mustafa's team deserves some mention, as their gimmicks were pretty bad. Hercules was a WWF veteran, but the Berzerker and Skinner were relatively new. The Berzerker was a Viking managed by Mr. Fuji, who defeated opponents usually via count-out. Seriously, he would throw guys out of the ring and scream "Huss! Huss!" while the referee would count them out. Not surprisingly, he never won a title while in the WWF. As for Skinner, he was just a tracker who liked to chew a lot of tobacco. (In actuality, Skinner was Steve Keirn, a former member of the classic tag team known as the Fabulous Ones, who later became the second man to play Doink the Clown.)


It took barely fifteen minutes for the good guys to eliminate everyone on Mustafa's team without taking any losses.

Situated in the middle of the card was the main event, the "Gravest Challenge" title match between Hulk Hogan and the Undertaker. This was the first time the WWF Championship was contested at Survivor Series, and the first singles match at the Series, for that matter. For Hogan, it was the first time he really sold fear, and to his credit, he put the Undertaker over reasonably well. The Hulkster and the Deadman, at the time, were pretty evenly matched in terms of size and power.


However, it still took interference to put him down for good, which brings us back to Ric Flair. The Nature Boy styled and profiled his way to ringside, where he grabbed a chair and slid it into the ring while 'Taker's ghastly manager Paul Bearer distracted the referee. Undertaker had Hogan set up for another Tombstone piledriver (the champion had kicked out after earlier Tombstones), and this time delivered it onto the chair, knocking Hogan out to seize the belt.


Shortly after that match, Jack Tunney apppeared to announce that while the referee's decision could not be reversed, he would book a rematch between Hogan and Undertaker at Tuesday in Texas, a rematch he would personally oversee at ringside. The stage was set for a pay-per-view no one had even heard about until days prior.

The rest of the card was pretty anti-climactic, although a notable angle continued during the next match. The Rockers and the Bushwhackers teamed to face the former tag team champions, the Nasty Boys, along with the Beverly Brothers. The Beverly Brothers were a blond, buff duo managed by the Genius (Randy Savage's brother Lanny, whose greatest gimmick was reciting his poetry before matches), while the Rockers were one of the Federation's most popular teams, consisting of Marty Jannetty and Shawn Michaels.

Michaels and Jannetty were having friction up to that point, however, with Jannetty causing accidents which cost Michaels potential victories. During the course of this match, Jannetty had Nasty Boy Jerry Sags in his arms for a slam, but swung him around, accidentally hitting Michaels with Sags' foot. Michaels fell backwards, and Sags' partner Brian Knobbs took advantage and rolled him up for the pin. The Rockers argued among themselves extensively before an agitated Michaels left his partner to face the Nasties alone. Of course, Jannetty lost, though not without a valiant fight.


In reality, a backstage dispute between the Rockers caused Vince McMahon to put them on a collision course with each other, which ultimately spawned one of the greatest solo careers in professional wrestling. That's a story for a later time, however.

The final match saw the Big Boss Man team with the Legion of Doom to face Irwin R. Schyster and the Natural Disasters. Sid Justice and Jake Roberts were to be the respective captains, as mentioned before, but an injury forced the captains to drop out. The Disasters and L.O.D. were feuding after the events of SummerSlam, when Hawk and Animal came to Andre the Giant's aid against the Disasters. I.R.S., on the other hand, was auditing Big Boss Man. Sometimes I wish I was making this up.

Schyster eliminated the Boss Man after hitting him with his briefcase, but when he tried the same trick later, he accidentally beaned Typhoon. Earthquake escorted his partner backstage and deserted I.R.S., leaving him at the mercy of the Legion of Doom, who prided themselves on having none. At one point, Schyster tried to get himself counted out as well, but the Boss Man came back from the locker room to ensure he finish the match, which he did by taking a flying clothesline from Hawk.

With that match, and a closing interview with the Undertaker and Paul Bearer, Survivor Series 1991 was in the books. While none of the matches were all that "epic" in scope and execution, it was still a good showcase for some of the best grapplers in professional wrestling history, and furthermore, it continued and also created threads that would come to head around and during the next big pay-per-view, one of truly majestic proportions.

You can check out the complete Survivor Series 1991 event here!

The X-Files Virgin

This morning, I realized that the summer movie season really is upon us. With Up and Drag Me to Hell opening this week, following Terminator Salvation of last week, it hit me: the bombardment of blockbusters plus the just-frequent-enough showings of decent “real” movies over at the Angelika will surely be enough to keep my weekends busy and my debit account dangerously low. But the middle of my week remains void. For months, my girlfriend and I partook in a nightly ritual of firing up Hulu or ABC.com (we don’t have cable or even “over the air” TV) and consuming our daily bread. We were fed by the likes of Ben and Locke, Jack and Tony, Echo and Topher, Olivia and the Bishops, Jim and Pam, and -- okay, sure -- even Serena and Blair. Now that’s all gone for the season, and even though the occasional TV gem plugs along into the early days of the hot Texas summer, the void remains.

Thanks to the magic of Netflix, the summer has transformed into a time for my girlfriend and I to discover what has left us behind. With nothing but hours on our hands we turn to DVDs and we binge. A few summers ago, we took on Gilmore Girls; this year, our project is The X-Files. Nine seasons are a lot to watch, and I know we won’t make it through every one before the summer ends, but to quote Cedric the Entertainer, we can put somethin’ on it. We can put a little bit on it.

Before watching the pilot episode the other day, here’s what I knew about The X-Files:

• It’s got David Duchovny and Gillian Anderson.


• It has to do with aliens, I think.


• It’s supposed to be amazing.

Beyond that, I really didn’t know what to expect from the show. I chose to catch up on it because of its acclaim and its perennial status on Top Ten lists, but I was able to sell the idea to my girlfriend based on the ever-present Fringe comparisons. A bit ironic when you consider that this comparison is what drew a good chunk of people to Fringe in the first place, however I suspect that many fans of this year’s breakout show, like my girlfriend, may find themselves in the reverse situation -- and good for them, even if the comparison isn’t nearly as valid as previously believed. Sure, if you want to be generic, you can connect a few dots: FBI agents, supernatural occurrences, the way Fringe annoyingly repeats, “The Pattern” and the way The X-Files keeps saying, “The X-Files.” You can even make a connection between Agent Mulder and Walter Bishop, as both were formerly considered great minds until their obsessions with the paranormal turned them into outcasts. Beyond that, the two shows seem to go their separate ways. While Fringe takes a few things from The X-Files and its predecessors, I’d say it gets more from Alias than it does from anything else, with its jumble of character types, its helicopter establishing shots, and sure, even some of its subject matter and mythology (lest we forget Rambaldi, Page 47, and the such. Man, I need to watch Alias again).

The X-Files, however, is...well, I don’t know what it is yet. By attempting to watch the show as one would have when it premiered in 1993 (when I was just 7 and not allowed to see anything dealing with aliens or the occult), it’ll take me a while to formulate my feelings on the show. I obsess over completion, meaning I’d never abandon a show a few episodes into a season, no matter how much I hated it; I’d feel better watching a complete season of a bad show than only watching a fragment of it. So even if The X-Files rubs me the wrong way early on, I plan to stick with it for a while, giving it a chance to grow into its own (even though it’s, y’know, already grown and spawned two films).

Almost every pilot episode needs to work as a standalone; lead a little too much into the hypothetical “next episode” and you’re getting presumptuous -- a total turnoff. It would be foolish for me to judge The X-Files by its pilot’s standalone elements, but I fear the “freak of the week” syndrome of the Smallville and Fringe variety will get the better of this show. TV episodes work best when they contribute to the overall arc, so I worry when a show about “seeking the truth” regarding extraterrestrials strings its viewers along for nine seasons plus change. How long before I start dreading episodes, waiting for the “significant” ones to rekindle my interest? It’s a bit of a pessimistic way to view things, but I’ve probably seen enough TV to know that it can happen to even the best of shows. I guess I should watch the darn thing before I begin to complain, right?

Speaking of which, my girlfriend keeps walking by my office, “subtly” letting me know she’s been waiting for me long enough. Time to watch another episode of The X-Files.

Is SESAME STREET Being Brought To You By The Letters O, V, E and R?

This week, Newsweek reported that Sesame Street is losing the ratings war, now ranking 15th in top children's shows on the air. Not only is viewership down, but production is as well, as The Children's Television Workshop produces only 26 new episodes a year (at one time it produced 130).

Sesame Street brought educational television to the masses, regardless of social or economic standing, and introduced children to arts, culture, politics, death and dozens of other important concepts. Despite criticism regarding political correctness, sexism, racial inequality and advertising, Sesame Street remains as one of the most important programs ever aired.

Will the series survive? Can it evolve and adapt as it's audience has? No one can truly say.

I'm not a parent, but I can't help but think the world would be a better place if they switched off Dora and turned on Snuffleupagus.

Watch some memorable clips featuring some famous guest stars and their appearances on Sesame Street after the jump.

BURN NOTICE CONTEST!!!

Time to bust out the Margaritas and celebrate!

Burn Notice is back at an all new time, 9pm/8c! Season 3 picks up right where season 2 left off with Michael swimming in the Atlantic. Michael emerges from the water free from interference by the organization that burned him. He's not under their protection, either, and is under investigation by the police. He gets out of prison with help from his old friend, who has a job for him: extraditing a thug who's displacing landowners in a Latin American country. Join fans on the official site and on Facebook.

And to mark the occasion, we're giving away a Burn Notice Prize Package valued at over $125.00 courtesy of USA Network!

Enter To Win A Burn Notice Tote Bag filled with:

• Burn Notice Season 1 DVD
• -Burn Notice Season 2 DVD
• -Burn Notice Frisbee
• -Burn Notice Suntan Lotion Pack
• -Burn Notice t-shirt
• -Burn Notice Novel

To enter, please send an email with the subject header "BURN NOTICE" to editor @ forcesofgeek dot com. Please include your name and address (U.S. only) and answer the following question:

If you were a covert government operative, what are the top three skills that you possess that make you invaluable?

Only one entry per person and a winner will be chosen at random.

Contest ends at midnight EST on June 21th, 2009.

Seconds Out

Well, I’ve just this morning finished the second draft of my latest script and so it seems like a good idea to run through what happens between draft one and two – in my world, anyhow. This might be of some use to someone, somewhere, but equally it may be of no use whatsoever because this is me and not you and because there is no certainty that I do ‘it’ the right way. So, as usual, take my nonsense with a large pinch of salt, ignore the bits that don’t work for you and just take notice of the stuff which looks like it isn’t too much work and might be fun.


Not that any of this is fun, of course – it’s like pulling teeth.



This Script What I Have Just Finished is a feature mockumentary and they are written in a slightly different manner to a normal script. Because realism is vital in a mockumentary – if it doesn’t look like you are watching real people doing realistic things in a natural manner, then it won’t work – the actors will be encouraged to use one’s beautiful dialogue as a starting point and to make up rubbish of their own at will. So, as one writes, one must be even more aware of what each scene does and why it is in the script, in order that those touchstones can be observed regardless of what is delivered in the final cut. This requires a separate, marked up, manuscript for the writer and director to use as the shoot progresses, which ensures that one doesn’t end up with a lovely film that has wandered down a cul-de-sac and is left standing on its own staring at someone’s fence in a confused manner as a stray dog pisses down its leg.

My second draft has a hundred and one pages and a hundred and sixteen scenes, which seems about right, don’t you think? My first draft had eighty-eight pages and only sixty-five scenes, which seems very light, right? So what happened in between?

The first draft of the script followed the step outline, a subject which I covered in an earlier column – I know you will have read it and made comprehensive notes, because that’s what you do with every one of my columns, don’t you? So draft one was sixty-five scenes, each of which contained the essence of where, what & how, with no dialogue except for the occasional line which I liked and wanted to remember to include. The first draft, which obviously followed on from that step-outline, was pretty much the same structure, but with dialogue. As I went through the step and expanded it, I added scenes which I realised were necessary – perhaps the transition was too abrupt and I needed to put in a little ‘pause scene’ which allowed the action to slow, or the dialogue allowed me to trim a scene and make the whole thing leaner. Whatever, at the end of the first draft I had a story of sorts which more or less worked, although it was rough and the wrong length with not enough scenes.

The second draft is the draft which matters the most, because by the end of it one should have a script which is complete in every sense, although it will still not be ready to show. These are the primary differences between scripts one and two:

Pretty much every scene that will make it into the presentation draft – the version of the script which one will show producers, studio executives, financiers, directors and potential cast – will now be in place. So, in my new script I have taken the original draft and allowed it to breathe by filling in character back-story, plot exposition and story flow by adding in fifty-one new scenes.

All of my story beats – that stuff I talked about way back when we looked at the step outline – will now be in place. Although I don’t slavishly follow the beat structure that everyone talks about and script readers follow, I have to approximate it otherwise readers will assume that the script is in some way flawed. My midpoint must be in the middle, of course, and my second and third act breaks will also be in the right places, but I can be a little flexible with some of the other stuff. One of the reasons that I have so many new scenes is that I needed to stretch, or very occasionally compact, my existing configuration to ensure that it conformed to the requirements of structure.

Every character now appears in the scene where they will eventually end up. In the first draft I simply put in those which seemed right for the story, but now I can see that the story can be better told by adding in a new character, or sometimes replacing the one who was originally in that scene.

And that’s really it. At the end of the second draft, I have my story told but with plenty of rough edges. In the next column I will bore on about what happens between draft two and draft three – that which I can show my agent and pass around to those poor bastards who have to read my nonsense and comment on it – a process which generally leads to me sulking for weeks. The irony is that all of this work generally leads to no sale, the use of lots of paper culled from lovely trees and another dusty manuscript on the enormous pile under my desk.

Still – it keeps me busy and gives me something to write about here. Not that any of you are actually reading, of course...

Friday Video-A-Go-Go!

The Incredible Moses Leroy's "Fuzzy." (His album entitled Electric Pocket Radio is a really, really great disc).

WIN! Mugg Yourself a Top Transformer at Vinyl Hotspot This Week!

Q: What’s 6” tall and made of ‘100% recycled awesome’?

It’s a Mighty Mugg, of course – and thanks to the lovely people at Forbidden Planet Limited, Vinyl Hotspot has four Transformers Mighty Muggs to be won at Forces of Geek!

Up for grabs: the four ‘bots of the Apocalypse! Yes, it’s Mighty Muggs Transformers Wave 1, each in his own custom box – including Soundwave, the favourite of the Muggs’ sole designer Chris Hicks.


Along with Optimus Prime, Megatron and movie-hero Bumblebee, they’re all waiting to bring their war to your toy shelves.

All you need to do is read the rest of this column (yeah, you so knew there was a catch!) and leave a comment on the end – tell us why you love Mighty Muggs!

PLEASE READ THE TERMS AND CONDITIONS BELOW.

To find out if you’re a winner, tune in to next fortnight’s Vinyl Hotspot column!

If you’re intrigued, but you don’t yet have a clue as what a Mighty Mugg may be – well, where’ve you been hiding? Made by Hasbro, these are the latest, hottest, edgiest designs in art toy culture – they’re 6” tall, chunky, urban and (dare I say it?) cute. They feature bright, eye-catching colours and a strong, distinctive design to bring your favourite science fiction and superhero characters to vibrant life.

If you head over to the Forbidden Planet website, you’ll see they’re available as a glorious assortment of Star Wars, Marvel, Transformers and Indy characters. They’ve got a lot of presence and a lot of humour – once you’ve got one, you know you’ll have to keep building your Mighty Muggs collection!

What are Mighty Muggs? These are the guys that will bring urban vinyl tearing through the toy shelves and into the mainstream.

You might even say, ‘Mighty Muggs, roll out!’

*Terms and Conditions:

To qualify for entry, please leave a comment on this post AND send an email with the subject header "MIGHTY MUGGS" to editor @ forcesofgeek dot com.

No responsibility can be accepted for delayed, damaged or illegible entries or for web entries that are prevented from reaching our server. This competition may only be entered once person. The prize is as advertised as shown above, there will be no cash alternative. This competition is not open to the employees or their families of the Titan Entertainment Group, Forbidden Planet or any company or organisation associated with the prize itself. Four prizes will be won as a result of this competition. The winners will be drawn at random from the pool of correct entries after the closing date. The closing date for entries is midnight on Monday 13th July. The judges’ decision is final; no correspondence will be entered into. Winners must agree to future publicity.

ALIEN Prequel/Reboot Might Be Coming and I Can Vouch For the Director!

Less than 24 hours ago, Bloody Disgusting revealed that a new Alien film is in the works and that Michael Costigan, Tony Scott and original Alien director Ridley Scott are producing the new film with Carl Rinsch slated to direct and produce

Here's where it gets weird.

I know Carl Rinsch.

Several years ago I managed a video store in Providence, RI and Rinsch, who was attending Brown at the time, was one of my regular customers.



We'd talk movies quite a bit and I attended his senior show where he presented some of his work.

Let's just say that there is a reason that he's the guy.

Visually, his work is stunning and he's technically innovative enough that he helped create a camera that funded three spec commercials (at 18 years old) which got him hired at RSA.

He is one of the most interesting visual stylists around and would be in excellent company with Ridley Scott, James Cameron, David Fincher and Jean-Pierre Jeunet

Check out some of his work after the jump!

Samuel L. Jackson is Bigfoot??? Got PROOF?

Comics2Film broke the news that the Image comic book series, Proof, created by writer Alex Grecian and artist Riley Rossmo is coming together as either an animated film or television series with Samuel L. Jackson quite possibly lending his vocal pipes as John "Proof" Prufrock, the lead investigator for a secret organization that investigates cryptozoological specimens. The cultured and well educated Proof is also the only known living Bigfoot.

And speaking of cultured and well educated, the project is being written by one of my favorite cryptozoological specimens and biggest supporters, my cousin, Evan Gore.

The über-talented Mr. Gore has been a professional animation writer for years, having written and story edited for such series as George of the Jungle, Lilo & Stitch, Dave the Barbarian, The Weekenders and Futurama.




Once more details can be released, plan on reading an exclusive interview with Evan here at Forces of Geek!

JUST FOR KICKS: MUSIC EDITION

This is the second part in a continuing series on sneakers and pop culture meeting.

In this edition, the top 5 music-influenced sneakers in no particular order.







Nike SB Dunk High - Dr. Feelgood

By no means, am I a fan of Motley Crue.

I put them on par with KISS as one of the more overrated bands in the history of music. But Nike SB created this sneaker as an homage to the Crue's 1989 album Dr. Feelgood.

Via Nice Kicks

Nike SB Dunk Mid - November Rain

These shoes were inspired Guns N' Roses' power ballad "November Rain."


Highlighted by roses on the tongue and a woman with a half-shadow cast over her face just like Stephanie Seymour in the video for "November Rain."

Photo via Hypebeast

Nike SB Dunk Low- De La Soul

Nike SB created these dunks modeled after hip-hop icons De La Soul's debut album 3 Feet High And Rising.









Nike SB Dunk Low - Milli Vanilli

As part of their Fallen Heroes pack, Nike released this pair as an ode to the lip-synching former best new artists. The thick black laces are supposed to mimic the hair extensions worn by Milli Vanilli.






Nike SB Dunk Low - Appetite For Destruction

In a rare display, Guns N' Roses has a second sneaker, this one using the colorway from the colors of G N' R's debut Appetite For Destruction.

Introducing... The Cool Crap Five

I'm introducing a new recurring series in this column--one that will show up from time to time--highlighting some of the little things that make life good.

I call it...The Cool Crap Five.

My personal slogan has always been "It's fun to be me."

This is true.



I'm not a movie star or an astronaut or a bullfighter, but I still have an awful lot of fun and I think part of it is because of all the little joys in life add up.

Some are ephemeral.

Some are long-lasting.

So here are five mini reviews of those "little things" that keep me going.

In the future, I'll share more...in these categories or others.

Why?

Because your life should be as good as mine.



Movie
Fanboys, 2009.
Directed by Kyle Newman.
Starring Dan Fogler, Jay Baruchel, Sam Huntington, Chris Marqette, and Kristen Bell.
It's a pretty straightforward movie--a road trip saga featuring fans and what fans hold dear. A bunch of social misfits (i.e., fanboys) go on a mission to break into Skywalker Ranch in order to steal an early copy of Star Wars: Episode One.

Our heroes encounter the usual road trip movie sort of mishaps.


Breakdowns. Bikers. Hookers. Rabid Star Trek fans, Pimps. Drug scenes. Cops. Zany chase scenes. The usual.

The movie was criticized for not really bringing anything new to the table of the road trip genre...but c'mon. Who really cares? Road trip movies are supposed to be by the numbers. The format of the movie is merely a vehicle to carry the more interesting characters and subplots, and present the viewer with a smorgasbord of geeky inside jokes and stereotypes. (Note: it's heavy on the Star Wars fandom... Trekkies take a lot of ribbing. In the end, no one is really spared.)

Loads of cameos--I won't ruin it by telling you who. It's a recommendation mostly because it can be had for pretty cheap. It had a very small theatrical release last February after years of scheduling problems, and was released to DVD last week.

I got my copy for $15.

New.

Book
The Complete 5-String Banjo Player by Tony Trischka
(2007, Oak Publications).
I have a lot of banjo books but the two best ones I have are by one of the best banjo players around, Tony Trischka. (The other book by him is Easy Banjo Solos from the Homespun Listen & Learn series).

The Complete 5-String Banjo Player is probably the most comprehensive guide to the 5-string banjo around and it's loaded with exercises and techniques that one might have to find in three or four separate volumes by other folks. Trischka focuses on the Scruggs-style playing (aka up-picking aka three-finger style) and covers different key, picking patterns, solos and accompaniments.

There's also information on the care and feeding of your banjo.

This is a book not just for beginners and students, but veterans of the banjo as well. I think one thing that sets Trischka apart is that he's both a talented touring performer, but also a dedicated teacher (taught Bela Fleck everything he knows). The book comes with a CD with clear samples of near everything played in the book and is reasonably priced ($34.95 list, but you can find it cheaper online).

Game
I love my Xbox, but I hate the small default lettering it uses.

Unfortunately, any Xbox game I look at has this problem.

That aside...what's not to love?

Especially when I'm playing Mass Effect?

This is probably old news to a lot of you seeings how the game came out in November 2007, but it's one of my current cool crap faves. There ya go. Take on the persona of Commander Shephard and explore the galaxy.

It's man vs. machine in a space opera sort of universe.

There's colonialism, revenge, exploration, AIs, conspiracies, and blowing stuff away via a selection of weapons and advanced targeting systems. You also get to customize your character so gameplay has some variety. The controls take some time to get used to, but that's what the first mission is for. There's a bit of sink or swim, and it took a few false starts before really getting into the swing of things. Still, the graphics, sound, voice acting and plot are all stellar. There's a reason this game was such a best-seller.

Food and Drink
I'm a man of habit. Small routines are a comfort--particularly at the start of the day. I make my breakfast a certain way. I read my webcomics a certain way. I tackle the morning e-mail a certain way. Before all that, whilst still standing around in underwear and socks (there's an image for ya!), I needs my morning cuppa joe. Last Christmas, my mother-in-law gave me a single cup Keurig coffee maker.

I love this thing.

It brews a single cup.

Needs very little cleaning and maintenance. And the overall cost, after you figure in wasted coffee and filters and cleaning and such from traditional drip coffee makers, is pretty much the same.

The small one-cup Keurig coffee portions (called K-cups) can usually be found in grocery stores (in several varieties) for around $6 for 18 cups.

Places like Costco or The Christmas Tree Shop sometimes have them for even less. My one criticism is it's "typical" coffee cup size is 8oz. so picking a medium roast coffee or less will give you a weak cup of coffee unless you cut your more typical 12 oz size into two separate run-throughs. Even better (and quicker) is selecting one of the dark roast coffees. Those come out perfectly. There are also K-Cups for hot chocolate and tea if that's your bag. The brewing process takes around two minutes for the single-cup variety.

Nolstagia Fix
Okay. Maybe ten years doesn't really count as nostalgic--but it's what I've been grooving on lately. The Chiller channel has been showing episodes of the 90s TV show Millennium starring Lance Henriksen. Aside from a short run on FX in 2001, this is the first time the show has reappeared on television in nearly ten years. It currently shows at 7pm EST on Chiller, and again at 4am. Some days they run episodes during the daytime, so check your schedules.

I loved this show, and was sad to see it go after only three seasons. There's currently a campaign to bring it back via the big screen. Check out BacktoFrankBlack.com for more information.

* * *

And that's the inaugural Cool Crap Five. It's not the original column I had planned, but while life is a feast, it's also been very busy. Great Editor Blitz didn't bat an eye when I blatantly skipped last Thursday's entry. He's a good egg.

See you next week!

Sam Raimi's Dragged People To Hell Before...

With the release of Sam Raimi's return to horror, Drag Me To Hell, this coming Friday, I've been watching Raimi's previous films on repeat as of late.

Already seeing the film last week and loving the ever hell out of it, I decided to spread the Raimi love in a nice little Top 7 of favorite Sam Raimi moments in film.

Why a Top 7? Because I like to do things a bit differently.



This isn't a stereotypical greatest movies of his list. Oh no! I go a step further by finding you, the loyal reader, his little talked about acting career.








7) This one is from one of my favorite Coen Bros. films, The Hudsucker Proxy. For some reason, whenever I mention this film to someone, they look at me like I cursed at them. Not sure why. Nobody plays a silhouette better than Mr. Raimi. The story of the Hula Hoop is as funny today as it was when it came out.



6) Connecting the two scenes together is this one from Spies Like Us. The very small cameo by both Sam Raimi and Joel Coen. So small that Sam didn't get a line in the final cut of the film. It might have been for the best.



5) Sam Raimi's demise in the slasher film Invader still makes me laugh every time. He actually has a few decent scenes in this film, but the fact that right before Randy the Butcher dies at the hands of the killer he sees a hand wrapped up like a steak just makes my day.



4) Ahh, that wig. This movie... whoa. Just don't have many words for Thou Shalt Not Kill... Except except that this clip, which features all of Sam Raimi's scenes in the movie are the only watchable parts. Raimi playing the leader of a family of crazies is something everyone should watch at least once.



3) The Stand, probably one of the best adaptations of Stephen King's work (besides when Frank Darabont gets involved), this scene is one where Sam Raimi actually kills Ossie Davis. But of course Randall Flagg (when will they make a Randall Flagg that is bad ass and not Jamey Sheridan) isn't too happy with it and has to despose of little old Raimi. A fun clip and a great wimpy scream to boot.



2) Another Stephen King mini-series, The Shining was a literal adaptation of the book, which actually doesn't work as well as you would think. I still prefer Kubrick's version, but this scene with Sam Raimi has probably the best line of the new film. MFA anyone?



1) Sam Raimi vs. The Pillsbury Doughboy. This clip is actually from a co-directorial effort by Raimi and Scott Spiegel in 1976. The Super 8mm film, Attack of the Pillsbury Doughboy is something I treasured knowing about, like the prequel in spirit to Evil Dead, Within the Woods.

I was actually looking for his death in the little seen cult favorite Crimewave, but sadly nobody had it up on Youtube.

BALTAR GETS MAGICAL! James Callis is Merlin in THE BOOK OF BEASTS!

One of my best friends, Brook Durham, has written the latest Sci-Fi Original movie, Book of Beasts, which premieres this week at 9pm as their Sci-Fi Saturday feature presentation.

The film, formerly called Merlin and The Book of Beasts, has this official synopsis.

In the twenty years since the fall of Camelot, Merlin has become a recluse known as "the wild man of the woods." He is now summoned by a charge of young knights as they quest to destroy an evil wizard who rules the land from a throne of a "New Camelot."

The film stars James Callis (Battlestar Galactica's Gaius Baltar) as Merlin and Laura Harris (Dead Like Me, 24, and The Faculty) as Avlynn.

Check out the trailer below.

Comic Book Wednesday

Another week come and gone, folks!

Here are a few selections for your entertainment pleasure!

Shazam and The Monster Society of Evil
Written and Illustrated by Jeff Smith
Captain Marvel returns in a new incarnation, aimed at a younger audience, by Smith, the award-winning creator of Bone. Billy Batson, a young orphan living in a condemned building, follows a mysterious figure into the subway one day and is taken to a wizard who tells him that just by speaking one word—Shazam!—he can transform into the superpowered Captain Marvel. His brand-new ability arrives none too soon, because talking alligators and giant robots are showing up all over the city. Unfortunately, Billy has just learned something else—he has a sister who is not content to wait on the sidelines while Billy gets to save the world. Smith brings to this project his considerable talent in creating comics that are as fun for children as they are for adults. The art is brightly colored and engaging, and the young characters at the center of the story are adorable. Unfortunately, the heavy-handed political allegory takes away from the charm somewhat. Longtime fans of the series may be dismayed by the radical changes to the continuity. Newcomers, however, will find plenty to be entertained by in Smith's lively reinvention.

What If?
Written and Illustrated by Various
The initial 47-issue series ran from February 1977 to October 1984 and explores "the road not traveled" by its various characters. Events in the series are considered separate from mainstream continuity in the Marvel Universe. What If stories usually began with Uatu, The Watcher, briefly recapping a notable event in the mainstream Marvel Universe. He then indicated a particular point of divergence in that event, and demonstrated what would have happened if events had taken a different course from then.

Little Archie
By Bob Bolling and Various
From Boing Boing, "Little Archie was a comic book that started in the 1950s, featuring the characters from Archie comics as little kids. The earlier stories were written and drawn by Bob Bolling, and they're regarded by people who know and love comic books as some of the best stories in comic book history."

Uncle Scrooge
By Carl Barks and Various
Featuring Scrooge McDuck "the richest duck in the world" and a supporting cast consisting of Donald Duck and his nephews. The first 70 issues mostly consisted of stories written and drawn by Carl Barks, the creator of Scrooge McDuck and architect of some of the most beloved comic book stories of all time.

Music Is My Meteorological Doppler Radar.

Ok. This is probably going to sound weird. And you’re probably going to think I’m nuts… but let’s talk about seasonal music.

What’s that, you say? “Christmas songs? In May?”

No, silly… not Christmas songs. Seasonal music. Like, the kind of music one listens to during each of the four seasons of the year. And how those types of music differ.

Or is that just me?


See… here’s the thing… I can only listen to certain kinds of music at certain times during the year. Well, ok… let me clarify that: I am physically capable of listening to any kind of music during any time of the year—except, of course, country—however, if it’s not the right “season” for the particular style of music, listening to it could forever destroy the aural connotation or “vibe” of the song. And no one wants that.

For example, Sade in winter? Well, that’d just be totally messed up.

Totally.

Perhaps it has to do with the fact that “Smooth Operator” was popular during the summer of 1984 or the song “Like Paradise” is the aural equivalent of a beachside sun-bathed lounge chair and cool drink. But somewhere along the line, both associations got burned into my brain to the point that listening to the songs under any other circumstances would just be wrong.

It’s no doubt merely lingering effects from sunstroke when I was 13. But it’s not just Sade.

For me, ‘60s pop, ‘70s power pop, and ‘80s classics are also “summer” music. For ‘60s pop and ‘70s power pop, this probably stems from listening to stuff like Motown, the Lovin’ Spoonful, the Mamas and Papas, and Nick Lowe, etc. while riding in my mom’s car in the sunshine. The same goes for ‘80s classics, with the added memories of listening to them while spending long school-free summer days in the pool, or locked in my room, with the radio, driving to the beach with my grandmother, or hearing the songs blaring from all the shops on the boardwalk.

Of course, inevitably, I also listened to these types of music when the sun was not out, so it’s odd that I just remember the sunshine. But then I also have inexplicably fond memories of junior high school dances, so, apparently, memory is just funny like that.

Typically, spring and summer music can be interchangeable, but I reserve a special, additional place in my spring music cd player for early ‘80s power pop—artists like Rick Springfield, Tommy TuTone, Eddie Money, and others to which I would have roller-skated at spring birthday parties. It just seems “right” to listen to that music around my birthday, when the days are getting warmer and brighter and I get presents and stuff.

Later, when autumn comes, I actually switch out all my car cds, because my music of choice shifts to moody, atmospheric indie rock. Stuff like Belle and Sebastian, Camera Obscura, and any number of other musical tales of smart, literate, sad boys and girls with books. It could be because I get totally bummed out when summer’s over, it starts to get cold, and I can no longer use the sunroof and rock the power pop. Or, like a new Trapper Keeper, it could just be my own form of back-to-school shopping.

My other autumn music of choice is ‘70s AM Gold. Nothing quite says autumn, an entire season of “Rainy Days and Mondays,” quite like the Carpenters. Plus, just like autumn leaves, everything in the ‘70s was brown. Or at least it was in my house growing up. So ‘70s AM Gold and autumn work well together.

Winter songs are mostly interchangeable with autumn songs, but include the extra category of twenty-four-hours-of-darkness-and-ice-hotels stuff like Editors, Interpol, and I Love You But I’ve Chosen Darkness, the latter of which I would totally love to have on a t-shirt.

But it’s not just about the calendar season.

All of this also applies to music during unseasonal days. If it’s a summer day that is overcast and unseasonably cold, I have to listen to autumn music, because summer music just wouldn’t be right. Similarly, if it’s ninety degrees in January, I’m gleefully rocking the summer tunes and fist-pumping out the sunroof.

Ultimately, then, I guess my musical selections are not really as much about the actual season as they are about the specific daily weather.

10,000 Maniac’s “Like the Weather,” by the way, would be an autumn song. As would Crowded House’s “Weather With You.” But Jarvis Cocker’s “Heavy Weather” is a summer song. And the Weather Girls’ “It’s Raining Men”? A spring song. At least in the years in which it was appropriate at all.

So what about the Four Seasons? Despite their name, an entire catalog of summer songs. And, yes, that even includes when they’re singing about December 1963.

Homeland Security Gets Sci-Fi Assist

Last week, the Homeland Security Science & Technology Stakeholders Conference was held. The conference featured sci-fi writers getting together with various law enforcement and Dept. Of Homeland Security personnel to brainstorm the future of security. Sci-fi writers with solid backgrounds in hard science were sought after by government officials for their unique, creative insight. Futuristic gadgets, unorthodox communications technology, and unconventional disaster scenarios were just some of the topics discussed and analyzed by the eclectic gathering.

Honeymoon in Vegas

Former Forces of Good contributor and all-around swell guy, Matty "The Master" Richenburg and his longtime sweetheart, Charlene Fadrigalan just made it legal in Vegas. Congratulations to both and their English Bulldog, Winston, as well as their families on the nuptials.

Charlene, do a flip.

Ryden off into the sunset

"If you make people think they're thinking, they'll love you; but if you really make them think, they'll hate you." – Don Marquis.

There's a great art blog over at Icons of Fright called "Art Massacre" written by my friend Bill Shafer that all of you should be reading. It will more than likely make you really mad, but it's never dull, it's often educational, and it tends to inspire more passion about art than most of the other art-centric space on the web thus far.

The title of one of Bill's more recent posts "Mark Ryden Is Not God", has proven to be even more incendiary than usual, and has garnered a lot of attention -both positive and negative- from a great many people whose opinions don't really matter all that much, but who post incessantly all over the net wherever webmasters allow them. Vocal minorities are often of the pro-censorship variety, and they tend to make enough of a big stink to ruin a good time for the many, and most of them with the best (if misguided) intentions, too.

The central message absorbed by the many responders (and I encourage you to read the actual blog) is that Mark Ryden is overrated. What are my thoughts on the subject?


I, for one, think Mark Ryden is a genius.

I've purchased a fair amount of art in my life. It's safe to say that there was a time when the eyes of gallery owners throughout Los Angeles would sparkle when I entered their doorways. I buy less art now because I've graduated onto collecting larger and more expensive work, which leaves my wall space at a premium, but I still buy art none-the-less, and these days I'm doing a fair amount of selling it, too. I feel at least as qualified as the next blogger to comment on the subject, and hopefully my comments will be fielded intelligently even if my words are not accepted as such.

A little background:
Bill Shafer is the owner of Hyaena Gallery, a wonderful shop in Burbank, CA that specializes in macabre art. Some of that art is the monster inspired paintings of artists Clint Carney and Cam Rackham and some is the work of actual monsters John Wayne Gacy and Nico Claux. Hyaena has hosted the Los Angeles solo-show debuts of Kristopher Sapp, D.W. Frydendall and Dienzo, and exhibited the controversial work of Gidget Gein and Stu Mead. When Fangoria Magazine added an art gallery element to their Weekend of Horrors convention, they turned to Bill Shafer. He's no shrinking violet, and I'd be remiss if I didn't say that I respect what he's done in only a few years. His knowledge of naive, criminal and outsider art is vast, and his willingness to take chances on new talent has fostered a new crop of gallery talent that probably would have had no other outlet.

His "Art Massacre" blog forays the bloated market prices of a select few artists who have managed to break out of cult status into the mainstream, Mark Ryden among them. He mentions several artists he deems worthy of the same critical and popular success, many of whom have shown in his gallery, but nowhere in this particular blog is Hyaena mentioned, and I doubt very much, knowing him as I do, that he posted this as an angle to promote his gallery. As happens with these things, the majority of responders to his post have taken this opportunity to voice their comments about Hyaena Gallery and Mark Ryden rather than the discussion topic Bill opened. Some are triumphant defenders and others are vehement detractors, but the majority on both sides have seemingly missed the point.

In full disclosure I should confess that I have purchased many paintings from Hyaena, and have every confidence that I will continue to do so, just as I have (and will) from Billy Shire Fine Arts, La Luz de Jesus, Carmichael, Merry Karnowsky, Black Maria, and about ten others. But none of those facts is relevant to the discussion.

What is relevant is my opinion regarding the central argument put forth in Bill's original post, and it is this: I disagree that commercial success inherently causes an artist to lose their edge, but more importantly, commercial success by its very definition implies that the public at large are accepting or embracing whatever edge the art had in the first place, making the discussion a paradox.

In other words, if you choose to stop liking an artist because their popularity has entered a larger arena, that's your prerogative, but it's not the art that's changed, it's your perception of it. Granted, mainstream success breeds imitators, who by their presence dilute the power of the original and certainly, success brings new fans that the old fans may not like, but neither is the fault of the originator. That doesn't seem to matter to most, and I'm no more above it than anyone else. I used to love the music of Slayer, and by 1990 had seen the band perform live at least three times. Their sound hasn't changed much over the years, but the new wave of fans that started showing up at their concerts in the early 90s assured that I would never see them in concert again. While I've outgrown the fanatical interest I had as a teenager, I certainly don't hate Slayer now, but the fact that they grew from a club band into a stadium attraction definitely impacted my ability to continue enjoying their music. You can expand upon this to the Nth degree, substitute any artist and customize to your own life experience, but in the end, the truth is your own truth and nobody else's.

On the other hand, if an artist were to purposely push their creative envelope specifically as a response to the feedback of the public, wouldn't that be the very kind of falseness that the original post is criticizing?

It is unfortunate and common that artists like musicians can become guilty by association. Many people who criticize the media giant that is Mark Ryden now, have at one time or another, really loved his art. He is a technically incredible painter, with an advanced composition and a style that resonates within a wide cross-section of the culture, embodying a taste that is currently of the moment. His choice to hire Asian artisans to construct unique frames that better display his art adds to his collective genius, and proves that he spends time thinking about presentation in addition to composition and technique. Most artists don't. I've seen him personally adjust gallery lighting, which is a level of personal commitment that most (if not all) of the artists showing in galleries like Hyaena lack. Maybe it's because Bill (and other gallery directors like him) do a great job and hang the shows perfectly. And maybe it's because the artists are happy to let someone else think about that part of their show.

Ryden's subjects -really his muses- are interesting people who have a loyal following of their own within a microcosm of the art, entertainment, and pop-culture world-at-large which in turn makes his work more attractive to a larger demographic. Paintings of Christina Ricci and Jessicka Fodera helped fast-track his cult status. In essence he is the champion of Goth art fans who have an appreciation for fine art, above and beyond mere pop art, and who haven't been as readily exposed to the entirety of artists practicing the so-called "pop-surrealism" style. Since his work is so accessible via the brand name he has made for himself, he is more recognizable to a wider swath of the public than most others -with Robert Williams being a possible exception. Williams' work is also selling beyond most people's immediate art budget. Why? Because of demand. Art increases in value because the number of people who want to own it -and are willing to pay for it- out number the amount of paintings offered for sale.
This is economics 101.
And like it or not there is an economic element to art. Once an artist decides to sell, rather than give away their art, they have entered the economic world. No matter how above it they may act, they are cogs in the machine.

I would love to make a living sitting on my lazy behind, receiving sexual favors from the most beautiful women on earth while the world's greatest chefs prepare my every meal, and all this while I set up new playlists on my ipod. That is an unrealistic proposition, is it not? Well, so is the idea that most people can make a living from the sale of their art. There is a very small percentage of artists who can even cover their rent on the sale of their artwork alone.

Suggestion?
Rather than hating Mark Ryden for being successful (and he's worked at least as hard cultivating his success as he did painting the less than 80 paintings that comprise his resume) one might be better served examining the reasons that people create art in the first place. More often than not, it's ego. More on that in a minute.

Sometimes the most passionate artists just aren't that talented, and sometimes great art comes from the least likely source. But it is impossible and ill-advised to get emotional about the success of the few or lack of success of the many when the reasons for each are relatively obvious:

The value of art is intrinsic.

Unlike collecting stamps or currency, for which you can always retain face value, the value of art is dictated by how much someone will pay for it. Apparently there are people willing to pay a million dollars for a Mark Ryden painting. And apparently, there aren't a whole lot of people willing to pay more than $500 for a John Wayne Gacy painting. Ryden has painted less than 80 paintings by my count, all of it perfectly rendered and high in demand. Gacy was prolific, not too talented, and reviled by most of humanity. You can pick up his smaller Pogo the clown paintings for a couple hundred bucks.
C'mon; don't hate the player, hate the game!

I own several books of Ryden's collected works. I do not own a print or an original painting. I am not a fan of edition prints, and do not collect them. To me, giclees are overpriced posters. I enjoy unique works, because I have a collector's mentality, and what I love about the paintings, etchings, drawings, sculptures and craft items that I own is that I am the only one who owns them. It is definitely an ego thing, and I'm fully willing to admit it. Anyone who says otherwise is kidding themselves. And ego aside, if given the chance to hang the right Mark Ryden painting in my living room, I would jump at the chance –even though insuring it against theft would probably raise my rent.

A piece of art can move you on a variety of levels; hopefully it has done so greatly if you've advanced to the point of purchase, but if there's a poster available of that same image, you've bought the original for the same reason I have: to own it. Someone may have whispered in your ear what a great investment it was, but at the end of the day you are saying, "I work hard for my money and I want this to show for it."
And hopefully that ownership makes you happy.

I'm not going to address the art speculators, but I will reveal this about the people I know who have the kind of expendable income that allows them to afford original Rydens, Van Goghs, and islands in the Caribbean: they are in a financial bracket that demands they spend that kind of money. I'm happy they find enjoyment in art, because they could be buying up property or debt instead, and when one of them spends a million dollars on a Ryden, the price of an Ana Bagayan goes up in price. That chain of commerce filters all the way down to the guy or gal doing sketches for $20 at a comic convention -and that in no way implies that these sketchers are beneath anyone, it only reflects on their asking price.
So to me, if you are an artist, a patron, or a gallerist that hates Mark Ryden, you are in some, strange way self-loathing, because he's the best thing that ever happened to you -especially if your walls are dotted with the big-eye art that Ryden is traditionalizing (after Walter & Margaret Keane). Instead of loathing Ryden, think of him as a gateway drug -possibly to cheaper lowbrow art more to your liking.

Hell, the first record I ever owned was either "Osmonds Around the World" or "Elton John's Greatest Hits". And believe it or not, my record collection isn't just Donnie & Marie or Sir Elton. Everybody has to start somewhere. The bottom line is that regular people buy art that they can afford based on what's available after the Trumps and Rockerfellers have made their selections. Madison Avenue has a hefty hand in all of this, too, and people who claim not to care about what others buy or wear have undergone (in a typical day) a constant barrage of commercials that factor into their purchase decisions. Did any of us wake up in a vacuum one day and decide to dress in black? No. We've all got role models who have inspired and influenced us. Yes, I said all of us, and that means you, too. Even so-called outsider artists at this point in the cultural history have seen other people's art and tried to emulate it. That fractured attempt at hommage has a specific charm that collectors of naive and outside art enjoy. Maybe you like it and maybe don't but you'd be foolish to argue personal taste.

Ironically, Bill Shafer, who wrote the "Mark Ryden is Not God" blog is a fan of the titular artist, and the central message of his post was completely missed by the majority of repliers to it. The real target of Bill's well-thought essay was the casual, oblivious art fan, but perhaps it should have been the twenty-first century art scholar.

Critics and people with impressive art degrees from prestigious schools and universities have made a name for themselves by championing art that the overwhelming majority of the public thinks is bogus. There would be no conceptual or installation art without the snooty art critic. With very rare exception, the "importance" of conceptual art is bloated, overblown, and usually defended to a near offensive degree. The prices those works fetch are (predominantly) invented for the extremely wealthy to be conned into buying. I guess I can't dismiss out of hand the importance of Marcel Duchamp's upside down urinal, but it's not esthetically pleasing to me personally. In fact, I abhor clever art. If I want clever I'll read Oscar Wilde, not buy a shelf of actual laundry detergent (that any imbecile could buy in a store for thirty-five dollars or less) for two million dollars.

I look for art that showcases an ability that I do not have myself. That should be easy for me, because I'm not an artist, but I'm amazed at the prices I see posted on some gallery walls. I'm hoping to find something in a piece that transports me spiritually to a memory I have or a dream I'm cultivating, and if any of you come across something that triggers that emotion in you I encourage you to make the purchase. That's what credit cards are for, right?

At the end of the day, understand that the powers-that-be see the public as lemmings, willing to cliff dive with the proper prodding. So don't give them what they want, but also don't hate the cliff just because the lemmings leap from it, and don't get upset that a talented painter has hoodwinked a couple of over-privileged folks into overpaying for a painting or two. Let's face it: not many talented painters like Ryden can persist in selling work in that price range. One, two or twelve signature pieces may actually hold their peak market value, but my observation is that either the prices or the sizes are going to drop. The really big, impressive paintings are going to become far more rare, because, when rendered in Ryden's detail, they take a very long time to paint. The small paintings that would have coast out the door for around ten grand or so are a thing of the past, but I have a feeling that Mark will make small pieces his bread and butter for a while, until the economy comes back strong. That will ensure that he gets to command record prices again when he decides to paint big once more. There is a strong belief that he has already out-priced himself, and it is expected that he will wait several years before offering paintings for sale again. The reasoning is that under normal conditions a guy with such a small body of work need not worry about market over-saturation, but when you start commanding those rooftop prices, it's hard to keep it going. Clearly Ryden is past the tipping point and normal rules don't apply. There are just simply not enough paintings to abate the demand.

My advice:
Don't sweat the expensive stuff. Look around, man! There's a ton of technically brilliant, affordable stuff for any budget and any taste. From sketch to sculpture to installation, there are amazing, museum quality works available for less than a paycheck. If you don't believe me, check out Matjames Metson's assemblage pieces on display at the Craft and Folk Art Museum, then go buy one at BSFA. There is cause for celebration in this here recession, so let's all ride out this wave with smiles and boat drinks as we buy under-priced masterpieces from Ana Bagayan and Nathan Ota -at least until their work goes up in price and we start hating their success, too...