Watchmen: I've Always Been A Big Fan

I've been a fan of Watchmen since the beginning.

Yes, in the mid-1980s, when I was 10 years old, I knew that Watchmen was destroying comic book hero archetypes and rewriting American history and changing the face of the comics industry. I knew all of that.

I mean, I was 10. Of course I knew about Watchmen then. I used the word "archetype" in everyday conversation. I was 10. That's what you do when you're 10.

You didn't? Loser.

I knew about Watchmen before you and I liked it first. That's important because it gives me a sense of superiority. You were probably reading Archie comics then. I understand.

I could say that I spent most of my life reading Spider-Man, but Spidey is so passe at this point. To really be edgy, you need to eschew that Marvel crap, that DC crap, and go for real comic edge -- you know, stuff that Vertigo and Image put out.

Even those aren't edgy enough for me any more. No, I read underground comics exclusively. Shit no one has heard of, because it doesn't exist. Yet.

Except in my mind.

Yes, it's true. Even before anyone had heard of Watchmen, I was a fan. People who lived on my street -- a county road near Muncie, Indiana, snuggled between two cornfields -- were oblivious to the seismic hoo-ha that was Watchmen. I can remember the old lady whose lawn I used to mow. She didn't know about the Watchmen. I knew.

I remember the day Watchmen hit stores. I was all like, why did the earth just crack open and swallow the comic book universe as we know it? I wasn't worried. I rejoiced. See, comics were stale in the 1980s. We needed Watchmen. We needed them to watch over us. See how that works? Alan Moore thought of that.

Well, that's not technically true. That was me.

And that whole pirate thing? Building a raft out of rotten corpses? Don't you see the metaphor? I saw the metaphor. I'll admit I didn't get the metaphor when I was 10. I was 11, actually. I thought about rotten corpse metaphors a lot then. I call it my "Rotting Corpse Metaphor For The Death Of Superhero Mythos Phase."

You didn't have one of those?

In fact, I was a fan of Watchmen before I even heard of Watchmen, which means I was a fan before you and am therefore cooler. But you knew that.

Furthermore, I was a fan of Watchmen before Alan Moore wrote the thing, which just goes to show you how big a fan I am -- I know about shit before it even happens. That's clairvoyance, holmes.

So this week, when Watchmen opens in the theaters, you can be sure that, well, I won't be there.

Why?

Because I've already seen it.

And because I saw it before you, I can tell you that Watchmen was the greatest film ever made.

Watchmen the film might well be the greatest work of art ever made, if not for Watchmen the graphic novel.

But you knew that.

But I knew it first.

That's what's important.

That and Watchmen.

Ambient Intimacy Considered

Let's get intimate...ambiently.

With Twitter, Facebook, and what's left of Myspace, we have the capacity, through social networking sites, to stay in touch with people without ever engaging them in person — without ever, in essence, touching them at all. You can maintain, by the slimmest of virtual threads, a relationship from miles away. You can keep tabs on who's having babies and getting married (not necessarily in that order, or even together). Who got a new job this week? Who bought a car? Who's hungover from last night's soiree?

Best of all, you don't even have to call them. That's so 1990.

I noticed ambient intimacy a few years ago, when I'd update my blog and my hit count would suddenly spike, no doubt the result of RSS feeds or Myspace blog subscriptions. Then I noticed that the only time I'd hear from people would be when I updated my Facebook profile in some way. Change one thing and BAM! tons of comments. Throwing out a simple profile edit is jumping on a moving train. I update my status results in comments, but only if the status update is interesting. No one comments if your status is just "John is in the shower." But try "John is voting for _________ this year" and see what happens. Well, if your name is John. Don't update your Facebook much? You likely don't get many comments.

Social networking is a necessary evil if we hope to stay in touch with people, but are we really staying in touch...or are we just keeping tabs? There is no sense of touch, though Facebook has the "Poke" feature, which is a simple way to show someone that you're still there, even if you're not talking. Thing is, "poking" is, I've found, more of a tool for the flirty or female social butterfly than anything two heterosexual men would be caught dead doing. We're not doing much in the way of personal contact.

In an ambient sense, we are constantly aware of what our friends are doing, so we maintain the details, but it's easy to forget how easy it is to know said details. Make a comment about changing jobs and, to your surprise, people you barely know will congratulate you. Announce your engagement before your fiancee has a chance to tell her friends, and well, you're an asshole. (Not that I lived that or anything.)

Puns abound, too. "Poke" a girl you used to date and you can say, "Hey! We're poking again!" *rimshot* [Insert shared laughter and idle reminiscence, followed by horrible memories and resentment anew.]

Whether this is healthy remains to be seen. We're able to "keep in touch," but we're not actually contacting. We're spying, in a way. And we don't even have to tell people we're watching.

John McCain: Cylon

Colonel Saul Tigh, supposed member of the Final Five Cylon models:



John McCain, Republican presidential candidate:



Eerie.

So, do you want to vote for a Cylon?

Shenanigans

With 99% of precincts reporting, Hillary Clinton has beaten Barack Obama in the Indiana Democratic primary by about 22,000 votes, with roughly 638,000 to Obama's roughly 615,000 votes (which, incidentally, is a shitload for the Indiana Democratic primary no matter how you see things).

However, some 1 in 10 Indiana voters claimed they were Republican.

Ten percent of 640,000 is 64,000. If, say, 64,000 Republicans showed up and voted for Clinton today, as Rush Limbaugh has encouraged, then we're talking about a game-changer.

By contrast, only Democrats and unaffiliated voters were allowed to vote in North Carolina, where Obama won handily.

So tell me again why Indiana allows Republicans to vote in the Democratic primary?

Civic Duty

Bond

Over dinner one night, someone asked, "Who was your favorite Dr. Who?" Without hesitation, I said, "George Lazenby!" Oh, that was something else.

Someone asked me to name my favorite Bond film today. I said:

Casino Royale
(or)
On Her Majesty's Secret Service
(or)
Goldfinger

I was surprised at how fast I could answer. But really, consider:

Connery's stuff is fine and all, but only Goldfinger and maybe Dr. No really work for me. From Russia, With Love ends too abruptly, and You Only Live Twice and Diamonds Are Forever are sloooow. I think I'm leaving one out. Thunderball was good. Jet packs. Not as good as Goldfinger, though.

Most of Roger Moore's suck. A View To A Kill is the one I like most, followed by The Man With The Golden Gun. The rest are lame, lame, lame. Unless I'm leaving one out. I try to block out most of Roger Moore's Bond movies.

Timothy Dalton. I liked both. I didn't like them better than the above, though.

Pierce Brosnan made one good Bond film - Goldeneye - followed by two mediocre ones that blend together and to this day I can't tell them apart, and one shitty one I won't name, but it involves an ice palace and a swordfight with Madonna. What a shit sandwich.

So, a while back, I watched On Her Majesty's Secret Service with low expectations. I mean, George Lazenby? But...he's pretty good! When you've seen Roger Moore and others suck it up, then you see George Lazenby take it on, it's pretty good, actually. Oh, sure, it's dated and a little silly, but Telly Savalas plays Blofeld!

Yeah. I'm comfortable with this.

1. Casino Royale

2. On Her Majesty's Secret Service

3. Goldfinger

You?

Pimping = Extreme Difficulty Rating

Someone must've caught on to Dr. Seuss' pimping.