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.

Well, maybe. I’m referring to the CW’s biggestest most superest, powerfullest, superhero Crisis ever! Crisis on Infinite Earths is being spread out over five hours of tv. The first three parts have already aired this past December and the final two parts are airing next week. I’m chiming in now because right now, they’re cruising on a high note and frankly, I don’t know if they’re going to stick the landing. 

Sticking the landing on any show or series is very important to me but that deserves its own entry. Here, we, and the producers of these shows, The Berlanti group, are kind of at the mercy of the “house style” of the CW. They seem to require their shows to add heavy doses of one on one talks, a lot of soap opera, and at times, apparently, idiocy and buffoonery. 

Before jumping into my assessment of what’s gone before, during their normal runs, here’s what you can usually look forward to on any of these shows on a typical week. Supergirl– often uninteresting, rambling, and they make the lead character out to be mostly a whimpering idiot. Batwoman– so far in the short run, cool costume, not really ready for the mantle yet and spends too much time on one lame villain, her sister, who she “just knows she can save”. Flash–after losing their way a year ago with sitcom antics, this one’s greatest failing is a lot of sobbing and endless padding of a story. They made a four ep story go 23 eps last year. Black Lightning– most solid of the bunch on every level. Arrow was good after it ditched a lot of the extra soap opera but got to be repetitive and probably should have ended after S5 like they originally planned. Legends doesn’t take their heroes, threats or time travel seriously, it’s mostly just buffoonery and sitcom antics. The title is very misleading and frankly, unearned.

So far though, Crisis parts One, Two and Three just got better and better. Part One was, admittedly, crap. Maybe that’s because it was handled by the Supergirl team, I don’t know but even after finding out entire universes were dying, they found time for comedy bits and not so clever repartee. The whole shebang started with comedy. Well, if you can’t get Keaton to stage a dramatic Bat-cameo watching in anguish as his world is destroyed, I guess you get the next worse thing, Robert Wuhl sitting on a bench cracking a joke. We even see Burt Ward blurt out the obligatory “Holy…!” as he walks Ace the Bat-hound. They probably should have put a colorful sign around his neck that said “Ace the Bat-hound”. 

You’re probably saying, “oh, who cares, they’re having fun!” Well sure they are, but they’re also supposed to be informing the audience that everything and everyone is being destroyed and that it’s obviously a very serious situation. But if they play it for laughs, like they do so many serious things in these shows….don’t expect us to respect your story or these heroes if *you* don’t respect them. 

There was a lot of nonsense including a battle of time wraiths or something, necessitating both Green Arrow and Batwoman to jump a lot and spin in mid air for no reason as they took cover behind rocks and a needless death for Ollie that you knew wouldn’t take because it was lame. Lots of dumb stuff, illogical stuff. Gosh, Lois is just so witty and funny. Moving on.

Part One/Supergirl: 2 of 10.

Part Two was the Batwoman episode and I think this one started with the Huntress star from Birds of Prey from about 15 years ago. Here, we had her on the rooftops, playing a great cameo, trying to contact Oracle as she looked on in helpless anguish as her world then dies. That was chilling and quality. The other two highlights were Kevin Conroy playing a future Bruce Wayne/Batman and it was great to finally have the voice come alive and with a twist for his story, being the Batman that one day killed the Joker and once he crossed that line….

The other major appearance was the Kingdom Come Superman played by Brandon Routh and in one fell swoop, I hope it showed Warner Bros studios how Superman should look and how he should be played. Of course they won’t listen but if they were smart…..  in any case, thanks to these guest appearances, this was a big step up. There was still some comedy and Batgirl and Supergirl were okay. Did I mention that Lois is funny and witty? Just so happens they’re pitching a Superman and Lois show.

Part Two/Batwoman: 6/10

The Flash hosted part three and here’s where they pretty much stopped the comedy finally because now I guess it dawned on them that of the millions of alternate universes, we were now down to only SIX. I guess that sobered up either them or the writers but this was a pretty tight hour of guest appearances and dramatic plot points. Tom Welling shows up as Clark, Routh is still there as the best super character in all these shows (definitely not the annoying Ray Palmer) and John Wesley Shipp returns as the Flash and Black Lightning arrives to make the assemblage even greater.  The whole episode is handled with a quality that all these shows should be handled with each week, including pacing and action. Unfortunately, by the episode’s end, things look darker than ever as everything is eradicated except a handful of heroes, half of them non powered, to face one of the most powerful figures in what was once the Multiverse. A truly great set up.

Part Three/Flash: 8/10

Which leaves us next week with Part Four/Green Arrow and Part Five/Legends of the DC Universe. They’re gonna have to be because the thing IS.

Timing is everyth—-hey, about scheduling this thing….

I was jamming’ on stuff this morning and I almost forgot to post up, so this is timely….

Realistically, I probably won’t be posting up a new blog every day. I probably have an adequate supply of cogent thought mixed with nonsense but my work schedule, when busy, is unpredictable to say the least. Also, if there are enough students signing up to warrant it, I’ll be teaching a course in Sequential art at College of DuPage starting mid March, so little things like that could interrupt scheduling. 

I’m sure that at some point, I’ll become complacent or bored, the gap between the posts will become wider and wider like most blogs. Eventually just pics of tumbleweeds will go up. I did tinker with the idea of doing 365 posts in 365 days, since I started on January 1st, then stopping completely after #365. Sure, *last* year would have been more interesting (we assume at this point) but although you’re going to get some serious entries along with the absurd and the standards, me trying this last year would have been difficult to say the least. Also, had I started it one year ago, sure it would have started out fun but as of 1-15, it would have taken quite the turn. 

We’ll see. I originally thought to maybe take weekends off but if I’m jamming on a bunch of stuff all week and don’t get around to posting, I’ll certainly jump on some weekend posts anyway. I haven’t had a 9 to 5 job in 20 years, so we’ll keep things loose. 

Oh, and by the way, *you* might get talked about. Yes, YOU. I won’t go into the nastier stuff like when you-know-who ended up with the dead hooker in his basement or anything like that. Good times. Nothing actionable but some of the things I’ve found amusing over the years. Mind you, I do have an absurd sense of humor, so stay tuned, I suppose. 

Because the thing IS.

It’s not every ep that gets a rhyme. 

I can not give them credit for sticking the landing. If I never saw the show in previous years, I think I’d be impressed as hell! But I have been watching every ep, every year. That’s how I recognized how thoroughly Chibnall ripped off The Sound of Drums and several other old eps. Really, Russell T. Davie’s and Steven Moffat’s greatest hits. 

It’s a shame because if I wasn’t constantly noticing all the unabashed nods to Blink, The Big Bang, even Age of Steel, Gridlock and the previously mentioned The Sound of Drums, I might have been fooled into thinking this was an original episode. 

It being a Master episode, I can only guess Chibnall decided that he’d just take a bunch of story bits and plot devices from the penultimate episode of Series 3 and just  throw them in. The “fam” on the run but now known worldwide as Most Wanted with their pictures on every screen. The heartsbeat of the Master, tap tap tap tap, three of them sitting around in a warehouse chatting and of course the raving mad dog version of the Master. Sacha Dhawan is a very good actor but half the time is playing the raving lunatic. It doesn’t serve him well. 

Jodie does pretty well here, standing toe to toe with her arch nemesis. A shame the ep was such a mash of rehashing. The ending was strong though, even if Gallifrey being gutted is another repeat. The Fam finally asking her who exactly she is and her responding is well done too. Unfortunately, it opens up the can of worms. 

With the gap year, they’ve been riding along with this galactic stranger for two years now, almost getting killed every week. They’re only *now* asking who she is?!?!? Seriously? She comes across as half insane half the time and they all should have died in the vacuum of space at the end of their very first adventure! –in fact there’s no way they didn’t but Chibs isn’t big on science.

The end discussion they have plainly states that in all this time, they haven’t sat down somewhere for a chat. In two years. Because anyone and everyone who would ever step inside the TARDIS, especially after almost dying, would be asking questions about *everything*. For god’s sake, Yaz is *supposed to be a cop*! She seriously doesn’t question the Doctor’s background for two YEARS? That’s what people do, but Chibs doesn’t get that for some reason. It’s as if he hasn’t had a lot of social interaction in his life. 

And let’s talk about the “fam”. The three stooges. They’re utterly useless in this story. There’s no need for them. They’re nothing more than liabilities. Dangerous liabilities at that. Graham, usually the most beloved character of the series is made to be a dancing idiot with laser shoes. Yes, deadly lasers start shooting out of his feet in all directions because he has absolutely no control over them. Yes, Yaz should’ve probably taken one through the skull and Ryan should have lost a limb several times but it’s all funny, all Scooby Doo rascally fun. My wife suggested halfway through that the Doctor just send the three dopes back to 1834 and we’ll keep Aida, who was much smarter and far more competent a companion. Yaz and Ryan were also useless, idiotic, comic relief. 

Other casualties of The can of worms being opened….

• The nazi’s are spraying bullets *all* over the floor with machine guns, just in case someone is hiding under the floor. They leave, satisfied. Then the woman spy native to the era (world famous spy they happen to run into immediately upon landing–coincidence), lifts up some floor boards and we see the Doctor and Aida laying there unhurt somehow. There was a rug over the section. Perhaps the nazi’s didn’t feel like shooting it? Nice pattern? 
• The Master has done many horrible things, from multiple genocide to the burning of planets, but dressing as a Nazi is a “new low” for him? That scraping sound is my eyes rolling in an extreme manner.
• They showcase Aida, who’s technically the mother of the modern day computer, which is great, a real trailblazer. But for some reason, Chibs takes on a Nazi B story to wedge in the female trailblazer spy and she gets short shrift. I thought she’d get her own ep. Instead she gets jammed in on the side of this one. Pace yourself, Chibs, spread the wealth a bit more!

So yeah, we’re two eps in on S12, already 1/5th the way done and after a decent start, Chibs seems to be regressing again. Next week, ep 3 is “Orphan 55” written by Ed Hime, who wrote my favorite story if S11, “It Takes You Away”.  I’m always more hopeful when Chibs isn’t writing, because the thing IS.