In 2007, Fox got the band back together to try and improve on the modest profit the first FF film netted. All the pluses and minuses of the first movie (FF good, Doom is crap, some fun and action, no EPIC feel), were all copied and pasted into Fantastic Four: Rise of the Silver Surfer. Really, they just added the Surfer to the party and he was really maybe the best thing about it. Looked great and voiced by Lawrence Fishburne. Yes, there was a bit too much goofy centered around the bachelor party and the vows, yeah -tightrope- and if you’re coming late to this blog, you can find the previous two parts right before this in the queue — but anyway, they did indeed *flirt* with some EPIC as when the Surfer arrives, it certainly feels like something big is up, but that’s as close to the EPIC feeling that we get.

The producers screw up big time here, because they try to take two incredible stories from the history of the comic and blend them together. The Coming of Galactus and  when Doom stole the Surfer’s power. First…you don’t co-opt the Coming of Galactus. He IS the story, not some side effect. Doom should not even be IN this movie, especially not as when being played by Crappy MacMahon. 

In the comics, some 55 years ago, a universal force of nature named Galactus hungers, and when this happens, he sends his silver herald ahead to find a planet with the appropriate amount of life saving energy, that the big G might go there and consume it, thus destroying all life on earth. Here, amidst Doom taking the Surfer’s power and trading punches with the FF, Galactus is represented as a cosmic storm that approaches but is somehow totally repelled by the creature who serves it — the Surfer.

Wrong, wrong, wrong. When Galactus showed up — in person– in the comics, this 30 foot giant set down in mid Manhattan on a sunny afternoon and proceeded to assemble his giant devices of extermination and extraction, while the populace went nuts, as first, this was the first time there was a huge alien incursion in the MU back then, plus it kind of seemed to them like God came for a visit and it was all over for earth. Armageddon. End of days. In this movie, Galactus was a spooky storm that came and went. Misplayed and totally screwed up on this one when it came to the Big G. The whole power swapping gimmick was also unwieldy and got old quick.

Still, nice performances by Fishburne and Andre Bougher who played the general. Unfortunately, this one was not as good as the first and that was reflected in the box office too. I guess the plan was for Fox to expand and do a Surfer film. Bleh.

Fantastic Four: Rise of the Silver Surfer – 6/10.

Next, Fox really screws the pooch. And the director!

I AM making a week out of it!

In 2005, Fox tried to launch an FF series of movies to go along with their popular X-men franchise. It made total sense, as when you think of the Crown Jewels of Marvel franchise properties, Spider-man was already 2 films in over at SONY and Fox had a few films already out featuring the extremely popular children of the atom. The Fantastic Four would be the next in line for a popular film franchise. Remember, this was 2005. The world at large *kinda* knew the Hulk and Cap but had no clue who Iron Man, Thor, Hawkeye, Nick Fury or Black Widow were. That would change in 2008 with the first Iron man film, but that was yet to come.

I think the biggest thing this FF film had going for it was a young Kevin Fiege, who was a part of the production team. But he wasn’t the boss. That would only come in his next job. But I can’t help but feel he was responsible for everything this film and its sequel got right. Michael Chiklis was a pretty good choice to play Ben Grimm, I suppose we could do worse than Jessica Alba as Sue, Ioan Gruffud would have played Reed a lot better if the writing didn’t make him so wimpy and Chris Evans…well, suffice to say, best representation of the Human Torch ever. 

All that being said, creating an FF film can be tricky. The four protagonists have a very different dynamic than any other team, being more of a close knit family of explorers, than they are superheroes who fight crime. When making a film like this, you need some subtle humor and heart, some pulse pounding action, some intense drama and a whole lot of EPIC. Director Tim Story was able to provide the first three elements to varying degrees but totally failed to deliver on the fourth. This disappointment mostly came from the villain’s side of things. In fact, I think we can lay the lions share of the blame on what went wrong with this picture (and the next) on how the producers and director approached Victor Von Doom and the particular threat level he posed.

Julian MacMahon was hired to play Doom. I suspect that this being Fox, there was some pressure to hire within the Fox and FX family of actors. That might explain  Chiklis as well, coming from The Shield, but it’s really the only excuse I can think of for them hiring this no talent hack MacMahon to play Victor. This guy couldn’t even manage a slight European accent. He had not one tenth of the gravitas needed for the role, nor the skill. The producers also gave him powers by having him suffer the same exposure to cosmic rays as the FF. Okay, I get the economical storytelling advantage of introducing everyone at once but everything about this set up was distasteful. Doom usually wouldn’t have powers, instead, he relied on his intellect to construct his amazing armor and weaponry. Here, he’s just a nut with zapping powers. Also, Von Doom and Sue were an item? Reed is indecisive and subservient to Victor because his company took off and he needs the money….eh. 

A couple too many things are played for laughs but again, this is a bit of a tightrope. Now, the final confrontation and battle with Doom is pretty good! Reed finally completes his “journey” and decisively calls the shots that take down Doom. 

Almost forgot, the extremely beautiful Kerry Washington plays blind sculptress Alicia Masters and she and Chiklis’ Ben make a decent couple. But Chris Evans does steal the show, not only as the Human Torch but as the irrepressible Johnny Storm. 

The SFX are good, although this film is often chided for feeling more like a TV movie and I get it, because JUST NOT ENOUGH EPIC. Not every film can be Endgame but you’ve got to dial up the epic when dealing with the Fantastic Four. Bottom line on this entry, 2005’s Fantastic Four: 7/10

Next, a lotta gas.

I’m kicking off what I’m now going to call “Fantastic Fridays” because why not?

Although there’ve been some good bits and highlights, for the most part, the poor FF have not had a lot of luck at the cinema. Attempts have been made, but by and large, they’ve fallen short. As we wait for Kevin Feige to give us news, hope, casting info and a time table for when a Marvel owned and controlled FF film will FINALLY come out, I think about what has gone before. 

Back in the early 1990’s, Roger Corman and Constantine films put together The Fantastic Four with 4 unknowns (Alex Hyde-White/Reed, Rebecca Staab/Sue, Jay Underwood/Johnny, Michael bailey smith/Ben) playing the FF and another Joseph culp) portraying Dr. Doom. This was very sad, in that while the cast and crew really put their heart into the production and gave it their all, it was doomed, excuse the pun. There’s even a documentary about it on Amazon Prime, I believe, called “Doomed”. Turns out, the studio never had any intention of putting the film in theaters, it was just a business maneuver. I forget whether it was just to test the waters regarding what *could* be done with a big budget or just a place holder to keep the rights.

It really was a shame because it’s actually not *that* bad of a film. Oh, it’s not great by any stretch (sorry), but it’s not as bad as many make it out to be. One reason is the quality of the copy you watched. Most of us diehard FF fans first saw this movie on a bootleg VHS tape in the ’90’s. And it wasn’t just a copy, it was A FIFTH GENERATION COPY. The picture quality was horrific and certainly didn’t do the scenery and lighting  any favors. The sound was also bad which effected how we heard lines delivered, etc. The *only* reason I know this is because I eventually watched a better copy on YouTube. Still wasn’t pristine by any means but a much cleaner copy. It gave me the opportunity to watch it again with a more critical and appraising eye. 

First, the lack of a budget is apparent regarding special effects and animation and that they were kept to a minimum. But it *must* be acknowledged that they shot the whole film for 1 million dollars. That’s nothing. Any old low budget rom com of the day back then would cost a lot more, nevermind a sci-fi superhero film with prosthetics and special effects! Back then, a standard, 45 minute episode of Star Trek: The Next Generation cost over 2 million — every week!  The Thing’s costume took alone took up half the budget. And it was worth it — it looked great, right down to the independent motors that moved his mouth.

 

Maybe it was my exposure to Doctor Who in the ’60’s, ’70’s and ’80’s and watching what they tried to do on an even worse budget. Either way, it didn’t look that bad. They got the FF’s costumes right but timing is everything, and currently in the comic, the FF still had the blue costumes with the white collars, boots, gloves and belt. It took the right artist to make that work in the comic and the film would have been better off with the black boots, gloves, etc.  Live and learn. Doctor Doom’s costume was also great and so far, in every way, it’s STILL the best Dr. Doom we’ve had so far, period. There was mocking of his voice, not being able to understand him behind the mask. A lot easier with the cleaner film copy. But it’s always easier to mock.

 

There were problems, in that the acting was uneven, some of the dialog was so-so, The Jeweler was a villain no one really wanted and Doom’s thugs were mostly unwanted comic relief. There was a side story about some gem blah blah blah but the FF’s final confrontation with Doom, Johnny racing the laser beam (choreography mapped out on an old Fleischer Superman cartoon) and Reed’s final face off with Doom was actually vintage comic book FF. They even honored the comic by having the team in costume for Reed and Sue’s wedding. We won’t dwell on the rubber hand at the end.

In the end, even though the project was sabotaged from the beginning, it was a labor of love for everyone involved. It’s a real shame that even now, I don’t believe there’s any chance of it ever being remastered or even released on DVD for whatever reason.   As for rating it, I can only imagine the further subtle change upward in quality with a pristine print of the film but taking all things into consideration regarding what they wanted to do and what we got: Roger Corman’s FF: 5/10

Next: Fox takes their shots…

As a rule, I don’t often leave the house. This is known. I’m also not a huge fan of nature. More often than not, it annoys me. This too, is known but if nature doesn’t bother me, I usually won’t bother it. So odds are, at no point in the future will I be in the jungle. It’s also unlikely that I’ll be in a dog pound during a rabies outbreak and cages with weak padlocks. So admittedly, it’s somewhat unusual that I sometimes have imaginary battles with animals in the wild or mean dogs, just to try and approximate my chances of success and against what type of animal, it’s weight class and natural weaponry, while my only advantages are a jacket, some keys and my wits.

At some point, we’ve all imagined which animals we might beat in a fight. Well that’s the supposition I’m going with. Those who haven’t wondered this, I pity you if you’re ever in the jungle and think you’ll remain unclawed, unbitten or uneaten. Or at a rabid dog pound where there’s been an escape. 

Putting yourself in the scenario, I think it’s reasonable to assume one minute. You could reasonable have one minute, *maybe* only 30 seconds to prepare for the attack. Because you don’t know how long they’ve been staring at you, tracking you, sensing your strengths, weaknesses, getting a whiff of you, sizing up your scent. With more advance warning, you could probably eat something insane hours before and lay down an horrific scent that might work to your advantage but let’s table that tactic for now.

You’ve got 30 seconds to a minute to prepare. First, you have no idea what’s going to be coming at you but you do whatever you can to prepare. Start by taking off your jacket/coat/sweatshirt and wrapping it tightly around your forearm. I’d say, if you’re right handed, wrap your left forearm and vice versa. If you are in the jungle, it’s hot but you should probably have long sleeves of some sort to protect you from bug bites. If you only have a t-shirt or kerchief, well, wrap whatever you can around that forearm because that’s your shield against teeth and claws. 

In your dominant hand, take out your keys. I don’t care if you’re in the jungle, if you’re anything like me, you feel naked and unprepared if you don’t have your keys and I’ll bet you’re glad you brought them with you now! So grip the key ring and fob in such a way as to have the keys jutting forth from between your fingers — ladies, you know the self defense drill. You get your Wolverine claws ready to jab and stab. You are as ready as you’re going to be. I really didn’t plan on talking this much about prep but now I’m glad I did. Even in an imaginary animal battle to the death, it’s good to be prepared. 

Now comes the sliding scale of what you might be able to survive. You’ve got your wrap guard to block with and you’ve got your claws to stab with.  Out comes a bear!

You’re dead. A bear’s got a massive size and weight advantage on you. What are you thinking? No hope there. Same with a lion. All muscle, claws and teeth. Although, with a lion, you’re basically dealing with a giant cat and it is said that if you do not show fear– because they smell fear– you can command the lion, show him who’s boss, shout him down. And while that’s interesting, I don’t know about you, but I can’t count on me *not* shitting myself if a lion jumps on me and yeah, the lion could jump right on top of you and you are done. So let’s scratch bears and lions and other several hundred pound jungle cats off the list. Panther? Too big. I remember Baghera from The Jungle book. Big cat. Tigers no, no no. 

But see, a cougar, maybe a 50 pounder…. that’s possible. Oh, you’re gonna get injured, no doubt about it. They are fast and they will slash you badly if you give them half a chance. If you’re lucky, you get it underneath you and body slam it, or stab it with your keys, before it takes your face off, slices up your arm, etc. it’s really risk vs reward at this point. And really it’s all risk because if you just take on the easy opponent and beat up a meerkat, no one’s going to give you any rewards. No, there’s little upside to this stupid, stupid mind game. 

Now, dogs. Same prep but you’ve got a bigger advantage. Their claws aren’t quite what a cougars are and they’re all about the bite, so your wrap comes in handy. If you’ve got the wrap and can jam your forearm in their jaws, partially negating their greatest weapon, then be the aggressor, really get feral, go all Bomba the jungle boy on the beast, you can probably maneuver yourself into a dominant position and put it down. The caveat there is that depending on the dog, if it’s a pit bull or German shepherd, it might chomp down and you might lose an arm, hey but you’ve won the battle!

Then you’ve got sea creatures — I never go that route because I’m not a big swimmer.  Oh, but alligators….. that’s actually a likely threat if you’re down in remote areas of Florida. They lay in wait in the weeds for joggers and they’re capable of immense speed for short distances, so if you see one spring out, run like hell.

Oh sure, you say “but Rick, all you have to do is clamp the gator’s mouth closed and he can’t open it!” This is true! But getting it closed is not that simple. Even if it was, did you know that an alligator can snap it’s tail in such a fashion, so quick, so strong, so brutal, that it can sever your spine? I will not even entertain an imaginary battle with a gator as it’s too scary. Plus, I do jog down in Florida and it creeps me out. A lot of weeds. Waiting. 

Christ, I hope I never have to fight an animal!

It’s 2AM. I wake up to a sharp, stabbing pain in my gut, with every shallow breath I take. I can’t even manage a big breath, because pain set up a helluva roadblock to it. I’m usually acutely aware of every nuance of what’s going on inside of me, what I need, etc. Of course this is comical because I obviously had no clue what was really going on inside me. So much for me being “aware”. 

I reached over and grabbed the iPad to see just exactly what organs fit the geographical spot where the pains were coming from but it seemed to be a cross section of possible offenders and I couldn’t give a positive ID. I didn’t dare start looking on Web MD because the outcome is *always*, without a doubt, cancer. Don’t need that!

So, I wake Linda and my immediate willingness to actually go to the ER is everything she needs to know. 20 minutes later, we’re entering the ER, explaining that I can’t even take shallow breaths because of the immense pain. She responds “you’re short of breath?”  NO, it *hurts* when I breathe so I’m *hesitant* to DO so. There’s a difference. Of course I then have to fill out paperwork as I try to not breathe and eventually, another 20 minutes goes by and I’m in an ER exam room. The nurse and I have the same debate about quality of breathing and eventually, she gives something for the pain and it’s a godsend. 

There’s a scan, the ER doc being evasive, admittance to a room, an attending that’s evasive, hours of no eating before a biopsy is taken. But see, I’m a halfway intelligent guy. I can read a situation. They let slip that it’s unheard of that the biopsy gets scheduled same day. Ah. All the docs up until now saying they want to “rule out” cancer. The nurses solemnly asking “Do you have help at home?” And of course the one straight shooter, the doc who did the biopsy. The nurses kept asking if I want to meet the doc. I said I don’t care, let’s do this—them eventually saying well he wants to meet *you*. Well just say that, for Christ’s sake! LET’S MOVE, PEOPLE! I’m laying there on my stomach, hooked up to endless machines, future uncertain, so get on with it!

So the doc comes over, shakes the part of my hand that isn’t engulfed with technology and says: “Mr. Lundeen, I’m doctor whatever and if I was going to Vegas, I’d bet everything that you’ve got Lymphoma. but we’ve got to make sure.” I say “Thanks. So glad we met.” Or some such thing, as the local was starting to take effect.

So, asshole or straight shooter? Depends on my mood but realistically, I’m the one who always wants to know where I stand. What the status is. He was straight with me when everyone else was evading. So in the end, I appreciated it, as at least it partially prepared me for the coming days, since they made me wait a whole week before they gave me the official diagnosis. 

I might give a shout out to some of these anniversaries as the weeks and months roll out. I’m hoping a bit of time might make some of them easier to talk about like Nightmare Week. I’ll need some distance there. 

Because… the thing IS.

Don’t you hate it when some old shit starts blathering on about “back in MY day…”? Well don’t worry, I’ll change the wording. We are truly living in the golden age of live action superhero films. It’s almost a disservice to call the Marvel ones that, even though it’s technically true. Captain America: The Winter Soldier was more of a political thriller/action film than superhero film. Ant-man was a heist film, GOTG was a space opera, Thor was mythological, etc. Even with the varying quality films from other companies, this is a wonderful time for this genre. And we have Kevin Fiege to thank for it. 

Oh, and as for the contrast between live action superheroes *now* as opposed to *then*. The pickings we’re very, very slim. We did have old bxw movie serials of Batman, Superman and Captain Marvel back in the ’40’s but they, much like the ’50’s George Reeves’ Superman tv show were all low budget, low quality kiddie fare.

Yes, we had the comedic Batman tv series in 1966, which honored the caped crusaders very nicely, even if played for laughs and they did a theatrical release too, which was great. Unfortunately, we had to wait ten years for more. We did have the 1978 Superman the movie, which was a godsend, and which holds up pretty well today, even with the dated clothing. It also has the greatest musical theme song ever,  not only for superheroes but it ranks up there as maybe the best cinematic theme of all time. 

But after that, the ’70’s live action menu was anemic to say the least. We had various Saturday morning cartoons aimed at 8 year olds like the Shazam/ Isis Hour (no relation). She had an amulet that turned her into Isis, the god of something. Can’t remember. Meanwhile, Billy Batson would travel the countryside with an old dude in a safari jacket called Mentor. When trouble arose, Billy would shout Shazam and turn into Captain Marvel to rout the bad guys. Mentor would… advise. And each week, Billy would have a chat with the gods whose initials spelled out Shazam. It’d be six guys dressed like gods standing in a cloud bank. It was great if you were eight.

We also had prime time tv live action superheroes. Lynda Carter was Wonder Woman! The first season was set in WWII and was alright — Carter being the big draw here because you couldn’t help but fall in love with her. The stories were so so at best. Then in the second season and on, it was set in present day, where the quality really went down the toilet. 

But what about Marvel you say? This is all DC stuff! Yeah, well, even worse pickings there. The one lone win for Marvel during this time was The Incredible Hulk, which was decent, with Bill Bixby as David (?) Banner, and Lou Ferrigno played ol’ green jeans with a bad wig and prosthetics. It was very formulaic with Banner getting picked on twice each ep and Lou coming out to roar in his sandals. Went for four seasons though! Like I say, slim pickings. We then had the Nicholas Hammond Spider-man. This was not good. They tried to affix ropes to this Spidey to give the effect of him actually swinging through the city but it just didn’t work. The tech wasn’t there. Nor was the acting. And yet this was Olivier compared to Reb Brown’s Captain America. These two horrific, TV movies were a testament to why spandex is not an option, this piece of crap had no acting whatsoever (thanks Reb) and a shield made out of transparent, lightweight, flexible, harmless material. Cap could not take out a Nazi toddler by throwing this shield at it. It was a weaker version of a household frisbee. Guh.

The ’80’s had Superman 2, which still had a certain level of quality but sank steadily as Superman 3 and worse yet, Superman 4, the Quest for Peace infected our screens. S4 is right down there with Batman & Robin and the Spirit. Best not to even get into it. It was crap. There was also a live action Superboy series that is totally unmemorable. No, the true Highlight of the ’80’s happened in 1989 with Batman. Michael Keaton was absolutely physically wrong for the part of Batman, as was Director Tim Burton’s reasoning for him putting on the suit. It didn’t matter though because Keaton’s Bat-attitude, his costume and his Batmobile were all incredible and picked up the quality baton from the 11 years previous Supes. Marvel’s contribution in the ’80’s was some Hulk TV movies with unrecognizable guest stars Thor and Daredevil. Pass.

The ’90’s was a mess as well. The Batman franchise sunk lower with each sequel, with Returns, then Forever, then the previously aforementioned Batman & Robin, which was a humiliation and an insult. Speaking of insults, Marvel tried to do a Captain America movie which went nowhere, which featured an Italian Red Skull, no acting and Cap had rubber ears. Roger Corman also tried to give as an extremely low budget Fantastic Four that never saw the light of day– but I’ll be looking at that phenomenon soon enough in another entry. They tried a Dolph Lundgren Punisher movie which also went nowhere. Marvel did score points with the Blade trilogy though, their only win of that decade. 

But of everything I’ve mentioned so far, maybe only Superman 4 was close to being as low down as the very worst of the worst. Frank Miller’s The Spirit. If Will Eisner wasn’t already dead by then, he would have come up out of his grave and cut his own throat with a butter knife, no matter how long it took, to end the embarrassment. Watching this piece of dreck may also lessen your opinion of Samuel L. Jackson who really will take any goddamn part, it turns out. 

The point I’ve been driving toward is that by and large, before the turn of the century, it was really really REALLY  rare for us to get quality live action superhero stuff on tv or film. Maybe four or five quality productions in 60 years, from 1940 to 2000. And look what we’ve gotten on the last 20 years alone. The last 12 just with the MCU! And that’s mostly thanks to Kevin Fiege. The cinematic Stan Lee of our generation, pulling the strings and creating the coherent, quality Marvel universe in theaters with his directors, much the way Stan did it in the 1960’s with his illustrators in the comics. 

Little known fact, Fiege was part of the Fox team that kicked off the X-men franchise in 2000. He also had a hand in the Fantastic Four 2005 film. He then moved to the big chair for Marvel and the rest is history. Fiege has gone on to achieve what’s NEVER been done before in cinematic history, creating an interlocking film universe the likes of which have never been seen. The 22 film epic, The Inifinity Saga. Think about just how rare such an accomplishment is.

When it comes to film “universes” it’s simply not that easy to provide a quality product. Of the 11 Star Wars entries, there hasn’t been a quality film to satisfy its fans since the early ’80’s.

Warner Bros. Has been flinging crap against the wall non stop since 2008’s Dark Knight, throwing out about a dozen films with little quality to show for it. They’re still scrambling in the dark.

Universal tried to launch their Dark Universe group but that’s floundering as well. 

It all comes down to having an organized, guiding hand at the wheel and Fiege has been that. So what I’m saying is, enjoy him while we have him because his ilk is RARE. Kevin Fiege is our Unicorn and we better appreciate him, because the thing IS.

Ed Hine wrote It Takes You Away for S11 and even with its flaws, I found it to be the best of the series that year. He returned here with some interesting ideas, a couple actual comedic moments and at the very least, a good set up. 

A fake spa on a dead planet with scary monsters was a good start and I have to say that Jodi is making strides in becoming a decent Doctor, maybe starting to get a little gravitas in there. Ryan was a more amusing moron this time around, as opposed to just a moron and Yaz did things. I actually thought the opening scene with the tentacle clean up and coupons was great. The initial glimpses of the monsters looked pretty scary, too. Soon, there was a Twilight Zone (or Mysterious planet) twist.

But by the second half, the monsters wandering around slowly in daylight made them a lot less frightening, the science started leaving town (the atmosphere was only 1% oxygen but there were fires burning), people started doing stupid things. Storytelling  choices went awry, like Benny’s marriage proposal alongside the request to shoot him, a young woman became a terrorist because mom missed her birthday and most unfortunate of all, we got not one, not two, but three lectures on global warming, with all the subtlety of a sledgehammer. 6/10 as a nod to the nice opening. Turns out I liked it more than most.

On the ratings front, it’s interesting because you get the overnight numbers, then a week later you get the consolidated numbers from delayed viewing, then another week later, you get the 4+ screen numbers added in. Therefore, it takes a couple weeks to grab all the ratings from delayed viewing over in the U.K. —as an example over there…

Spyfall Pt 1 a overnights: 4.88 million, consolidated: 6.7, plus 4+ screen: 6.9 mil

BBC America: 780,000

Spyfall Part Two: overnights: 4.7 million

BBC America: 580,000

Orphan 55: overnights: 4.19 million

So on one hand, the delayed viewing numbers added another 40% to the total, which is good. OTOH, if the initial ratings keep slipping lower each week, it won’t matter. With S11, the ratings started out great but took a steady nosedive all year, each week. The only way they could save face was by averaging out the whole season’s numbers to take advantage of the giant numbers from the first ep. We’ll see what happens in these seven remaining weeks. 

There’s a group. A secret society if you will, devoted to Shovelers. It’s called The Order of the Shovel and it’s a rather devoted group of people who… shovel. It’s somewhat exclusive, informal, erratically attended and there are three classifications. First, you’ve got the Blue Scoops. The Blue Scoops are people that eschew the metrosexual convenience and laziness of those who use a snowblower on their driveway and shovel their driveway themselves, considering it to often be a decent workout– sometimes a crazy workout! And it goes without saying that you shore up the edges and make it a neat job whenever possible. Mind you, there are some instances when snowblowers are deemed acceptable, as in medical (heart condition) or age (75 and over) limitations, or if your driveway is some crazy size like big enough for 30 cars (Richie Rich!). Although either of these scenarios disqualify you from being a Blue Scooper. This is considered the standard and most common level. When these folk get together, it’s maybe sandwiches, soda or beer and talk about snowstorms, how many feet they had to shovel, those type of stories. It’s all very amicable, jovial and low key. The mating is gentle.

Being part of the Green Scoopers signifies that you have a vocation involving constant, massive, shoveling, like say in a garden center, where you’re transferring rocks or pebbles, wood chips, soil, or maybe you’re in construction, etc. The Green Scoopers are usually a more intense bunch and in the group in easily the best shape of all. Lot of really cut guys, big guys or both. They also have to let off a little more steam, so their gatherings are a bit more wild in general. These alpha dudes have ranged from all night drinking contests, to feats of strength, to creating a fight club. The mating is aggressive.

Then you have the Red Scoopers. This is an eclectic bunch of loners and only some actually gravitate toward meetings. These are the guys who work in carnivals and zoos who shovel the elephant shit, –well any and all animal shit. They also shovel all the roadkill off the nation’s freeways and highways. As a hobby. When these individuals do get together, it’s often in the dark, lit only by whatever moon they have available. Little is said. The time is mostly spent drinking, sharing each other’s company and staring at whatever moon they have available. The mating is slow and silent.

The three groups don’t often mingle. But they’re out there. I thought you should know.

Now where the hell is the snow?

Let me back up a bit as I should really give details leading up to that. Several years ago, maybe 15 or 20, I went down to New Orleans. I’d been there before and for whatever reason, decided to go again. Well, the reason was probably the booze and the nightlife, if I’m being honest. My first trip there a decade earlier was with my wife and another couple, Mike and Pam, very old and dear friends. One of my most pleasant memories was starting at one end of Bourbon street, grabbing a giant punch drink called the Hurricane (in slurpee form) and just meandering down the fabled street, seeing the sights, people watching, until the far end, where there was another bar serving giant Hurricane slurpees. And of course the nightlife, where there are bars with great music, excellent food, alligators dancing in cages and women suspended by the ceilings in giant nets. I may have mixed up a couple details there but Giant Hurricane Slurpees.

Of course the most prevalent aspect of New Orleans is that by and large, it’s a hot, humid and swampy place. The only way to really get through the daytime heat is to drink Giant Hurricane Slurpees. Or if they weren’t making Slurpees, Giant Hurricanes or any other cold beverage would do. 

This trip was much the same as far as temperature. The trip was thrown together a bit hastily and only consisted of myself and two friends, Mike and Jim. There may have been some other side reason for the trip but it really doesn’t matter for the purposes of this story. Only that it was the three of us, and it was very hot and humid. You know how they say in Arizona that it’s a dry heat and not that bad? Making 114 degrees seem like only a stupid and unbearable 105 degrees? Well in New Orleans, it’s a wet heat. A miserable heat. So hot in fact that I actually went to go get a haircut in town a couple of blocks away from the hotel room. Just to get rid of excess hair and cool off a bit more. 

It should be mentioned as well that yes, I am referred to as the Human Blast Furnace. I give off heat. My core temperature is actually 97.6 because my body shoves off heat at an alarming rate. So when in a hot climate, it’s a bit like Superman wandering around a city where all the buildings and trees are made of Kryptonite. Seriously, why do you think I wear shorts 360 days a year? I run warm. But I cope. There may have been one or two times when I might even have mentioned my discomfort out loud, but it’s rare because I almost never complain.             What? 

Now my friend Mike is the exact opposite regarding the weather. He gets chilly. We go somewhere outside for lunch, he’d prefer being in the sun for the warmth, I crave the shade. Then again, he’s always eaten healthy and has always been fit. By and large, I’ve usually been Fatty Magoo. When you’ve no meat on your bones compared to hauling around an extra 50 pounds. It does make a difference. We were actually in one restaurant that had the AC cranked up big time and it was actually really cold in there. I loved it, but Mike was rightfully commenting that it was pretty chilly in there. The waitress came up and asked him if he wanted a shawl. The balls on this girl! She must not get too many good tips riffing on customers.

But I digress. The thing is, this was really just a couple days away on a three day weekend, laughing and drinking at night, recovering and exploring during the day. One day, we explored too much. We traveled to some remote location as there were swamp rides. You go and they take you out on the bayou in motorboats and see the sights. I can’t can’t tell you about any sights though. I couldn’t see them.

It was kind of a long drive out there but when we arrived, there was a little log cabin shop where you checked in, bought tickets, perused the gift section and checked out the menu. We didn’t know how long the trip on the water was going to be, so I figured I’d grab a snack. They showed “gator-dogs” up on the menu board, and as you’d imagine, it was a kind of hot dog or brat but made with gator meat. I’ve had gator before. It’s not bad, kind of like sausage, that type of thing. So I ordered one. They went to cook one up for me. What I didn’t really think about was that they put the gator-dog in the microwave. For a while. 

We got the signal that our boat would be ready to take off in a few minutes, so I gratefully accepted the gator-dog and exited the cabin, started to walk down the path and took a big bite of my treat. Now…..I’ve microwaved a million things in my life. So have you, probably. You know what happens if you leave something in the microwave too long. I estimate that they nuked this room temperature gator-dog in there for maybe two minutes or however long it takes to nearly kill a man.

As I bit into the creole treat, the gator-dog’s white hot, lava-like juices exploded in my mouth. I felt searing pain and then I felt nothing. I had lost all feeling in my mouth. Honestly, I can’t remember if I stupidly continued to chew and then swallow or not because I felt nothing in my mouth. Totally numb. I continued to walk toward the boat, throwing out the rest of the gator-dog out and I felt a bit odd, kinda tingly. I don’t think I was even hungry any more. I *think* I was going into shock of some sort but I kept heading toward the boat. We got in and the guy driving was probably saying something interesting but I couldn’t tell you. And I really wasn’t saying much I don’t think. It’s kind of blank as I was totally consumed with my body’s inner workings and condition in the moment.

Oh, and you know how, if you burn the roof of your mouth eating pizza, maybe a day or a couple of days so later, you get some strings of skin falling down off the roof of your mouth? Well, this phenomenon started in my mouth as I was getting into the boat. This was just a few minutes after the bite. The entire roof of my mouth was falling apart, collapsing, dangling. So that was a bit terrifying. And yes, I think I was kinda blotting out what was happening around me.

I did start to feel cold though. Yes, it was still about 90 degrees and humid but I was kind of cold. Soon, we were zooming through the bayou at impressive speeds, seeing the sights. But I wasn’t seeing the sights. I wasn’t seeing much of anything. As our boat tore through the swampland, everyone was enjoying the breeze and the sights and the swamp action, but I was hunched over, curled up in a fetal ball, shaking, shivering and hiding for protection behind Mike, of all people, who was blocking me from the wind! *He* was fine, I was dying! The hot, humid, clammy wind, which felt like blades of ice coming at me. A few days later, I’d start to get feeling back in my mouth and I figured I’d be okay in the end but then, at that moment, I seriously felt like there was something seriously wrong inside me and that I was going to die. But whatever was in the swamp was going to have to wait for it, because the thing IS.

Although I’m back to what passes for 100% (when you’re an overweight 57 year old), I was planning on sticking with the bald head for a while. It’s actually convenient on many levels. No hat hair, no bed head, no need to wash it, comb it, save on haircuts, you name it. Have to shave every three or four days but that’s not that big a deal at all. In fact, it’s far simpler and faster than I would have imagined. Now that the mustache and the zif have reestablished themselves, bushier than before, frankly, I like the look. God knows it’s fashionable these days. And maybe I’ll go back to it at some point. But for now, I should probably grow back the hair. Public perception. 

Thing is, as long as I keep the clean dome, I’ll automatically come across as cancer-boy to pretty much anyone who knows me. Strangers wouldn’t notice and don’t care but to friends and family, it’s just a reminder, the 500 pound gorilla in the room. 

Mind you, I am kinda tainted now. I’ve got the scarlet letter C on my chest. Inextricably linked with the malady in some people’s eyes. They’re all concerned, they mean well, they love me and I love them but we’re all human and some have better poker faces than others. Last year, there was one person early on that couldn’t help but look at me with that expression. That “You poor son of a bitch, you’re as good as dead.” expression. And I get it. I certainly don’t hold it against them. It’s cancer, for christ’s sake! Then a month later in April, I found out the cancer was already gone, in remission, sayonara, after only three months of chemo. More intensive tests in May confirmed it. The worst part of *any* of it was the treatment, –mostly the time surrounding the transplant.

But all that’s done. Everything’s back to normal except for the hair, so the best way to put the entirety of this behind me, put some visual distance between me and Gollum, is to just grow the hair back. 

Bottom line, it’s *probably* for the best that I get that scalp coverage back anyway. I’m almost out of the make up I use to cover up the 666.