Spinner Rack: Our Cancer Year

 

 Our Cancer Year 

Originally Released: 1994

Written by Harvey Pekar and Joyce Brabner

Drawn by Frank Stack

Our Cancer Year documents indie comic writer Harvey Pekar's real-life struggle with lymphoma as well as the impact it had on his personal relationships. The book is co-written by Mr. Pekar's wife, Joyce Brabner, a co-star of the book.

This is the perfect example a comic book for people that don't read comic books. It showcases what they have to offer as a serious art form; a medium to be taken seriously. There are no super heroes, capes or cowls. Simply said, this is a real story told by a real person in comic book form.

 Our Cancer Year is probably one of the greatest graphic novels of all time. Sometimes it's painful and sometimes it's hilarious, but it's always interesting. This man, along with his wife, lay it all on the line for the benefit of  readers and that's awesome. The honest, rough edges make this book what it is.

Btw, for the uninitiated, if the name "Harvey Pekar" sounds remotely familiar, a movie based on his life (and parts of this book) was released in 2003. American Splendor, starring Paul Giamatti as Pekar, captures this guy's life, as told in his graphic novels, perfectly. I highly recommend it.

Spinner Rack: Adventure Comics #431

 

Adventure Comics #431 - "The Wrath of the Spectre"

 Originally released: February 1974

Written by Michael Fleisher 

Drawn by Jim Aparo 

A couple of years ago, at the suggestion of multiple comic book bloggers,  I was advised to check out Michael Fleisher's Adventure Comics run that centers on The Spectre (issues 431-440). When I heard it involved one of my favorite comic artists, the unbelievable Jim Aparo, I jumped on it.

This is easily one of the coolest, strangely grotesque and original stories I've enjoyed from 70's comics, which really excelled in bringing back horror comics with the relaxation of the Comics Code. Each issue features Jim Corrigan and his ghostly alter ego, The Spectre, coming into contact with and ultimately killing a bad guy or group of bad guys. It's got an excellent noir quality to it, but the real treat is seeing the unique ways Fleisher has The Spectre dispatch his odd foes. He melts them, cuts them in half with giant scissors, turns them to sand and lots of other gruesome methods.

The stories immediately reminded me of the Tales from the Crypt TV show, which was obviously itself originally a comic book. I believe Fleisher cited old horror comics as an inspiration.

And to say something about Jim Aparo's art: it's excellent, as always. Jim's artwork is among the most consistent I've seen in comics. Just like Jack Kirby, you know exactly whose working the pencil by just catching a quick glimpse of the pages. 

Jim continued to work on Adventure Comics doing the pencils for the Paul Levitz Aquaman stories, which includes the rather shocking death of Aquaman's baby at the hands of Black Manta (issue 452, I believe). That run treated Aquaman with respect (much like he has gotten since DC's "New 52" launch), which is the best way to handle the character. It's also really good stuff.

Hallowtober is here!!!

Toward the end of last month, it really set in what was about to come: the greatest time of the year! Sure, because it was the end of September, that also kind of clued me into the fact that October was coming next...

Anyway, I affectionately refer to this time of year as Hallowtober!!!! 

Ever since I was a kid I've had a love of Halloween. From the costumes, candy and haunted houses to the emphasis on horror movies (something else I have a love affair with), it all just remains a huge part of my life. To add to the experience, the weather begins to cool, the colors change. It's an overall experience for your senses!

The one product that really signals the return of this season is one, I hate to admit, I really don't like. Now, I buy it every year, somewhere in my mind thinking I'll enjoy it. But, once the box is opened and milk is poured on and that first bite is taken... I realize... yuck!

I'm sorry, Count, but I hate your cereal. :(

This is one of those cereals I don't remember getting very often as a child. Outside of its cool commercials, I don't actually remember craving it. I've thought about getting my parents' perspective on this, but I'm not entirely sure they will remember. I think it may be that I just didn't like it then. Perhaps I preferred the chocolatey goodness of Cocoa Puffs more? 

The thing is, I'll still continue to buy it every year. I will seek it out when I know it'll be on the shelves. I'll still pour myself a bowl or two and try to convince myself that I enjoy it and... I'll waste 75% of it.

But, when it comes to down to it... I really just enjoy what it represents: the season.

The Sailor Man's Propaganda

As noted previously, when I was a child I was a sucker for all sorts of cartoon mascots. Stick them on a cereal box and that's all the nudging you'd need to get me to beg my parents for it. However, it was one thing for Tony the Tiger to peddle his sugary cereal and another thing entirely for an actual, honest-to-god star of a full cartoon show to become the mascot for something other than their show.

For instance:

I vividly remember being at the grocery store, sitting in the cart when we happened upon Popeye's large forearmed, scurvy-mouthed visage on a can of spinach. Look, I'd seen all the cartoons. Pops would open a can of spinach any time he needed extra strength to whip Bluto's ass. It worked for him, surely it would work for my four-year-old self.

My parents told me I wouldn't like it. Fuck 'em, I said. I knew what was what. Too bad for them I had dreams of being a swamp-ass sailor with a corncob pipe. So, like any spoiled rotten kid whose parents were attempting to air on the side of caution, I begged, whined and threw a fit to get it. I knew I'd like it. How could I not?

They agreed to buy the spinach if I ate the whole thing.

Bargain done.

Once we were home later that evening, mom plopped the steaming pile of green slop down in front of me. If I was deterred by its look and smell, I sure as hell didn't show it! No way were they going to get the satisfaction of being right.

Then I took a bite.

Needless to say, they were right. They initially refused to let me up from the table until I finished. After much whining and, probably (definitely), crying, I was released from my torture. I'm sure I was supposed to learn some sort of lesson about my parents knowing better than I did, but being a kid I'm sure that part didn't sink in.

What did sink? I haven't ate spinach since.

Retro Ads #1: The Adventures of Sugar Bear (a.k.a. Cereal Mascot Comic)

Here we join Sugar Bear circa 1988 enjoying his favorite food, dry Super Golden Crisp cereal. You really have to wonder how a bear introduces cereal into his diet. Also, where'd he get that shirt?

Sugar Bear's good time is interrupted by bees with low self esteem and blood sugar. Look at those guys! They're automatically recognizable as villains 'cause it looks like they're wearing bandannas and striped shirts. This is also how cops find criminals in the real world.

That smooth mother fucker, Sugar Bear, ain't got time for nonsense. He catches them with a "vitamin packed punch" and throws them ass first at a tree.

Damn bees got humiliated.

Sugar, Toys and... milk.

Remember when it was mandatory for any cereal targeted at children to have a mascot? This trend started long before the golden year of my birth, 1982, but hit full stride in my lifetime. I couldn't watch Saturday morning or weekday afternoon cartoons without an all-out marketing assault designed for my wide-eyed, ready-to-consume younger self.

The people doing these commercials were very smart. They knew exactly what these 30 second cartoons would cause: me harassing my parents the next time we went to the grocery store. And, God love them, my parents typically indulged me.

This is as good a time as any to say I was such a little bastard. When we went to the grocery store, I either made straight for the cereal aisle or hounded my parents to hurry up with this "real" food mess and get there. To hell with the rest of the store, this was my mecca! Jesus had nothing on Sugar Bear, Cap'n Crunch, the Trix rabbit, Toucan Sam, Sonny, Dig 'em and Lucky. I'd instinctively seek out the boxes with one of my seven sugary heroes on them and then...

Well, I'd have to pick out the one with the coolest toy in it, of course. This was the rule by which all my cereal-buying stuck. It would even cause me to go outside of my normal brands and try something new (which I would typically waste because my cultured and superior palate would reject it for being inferior fluff).

I'd run the length of the aisle multiple times while my parents waited, sometimes patiently/sometimes not, for me to make up my mind. I've always been somewhat indecisive, especially later in life, and I think this is where it all started. Although, once the Ninja Turtles got their own cereal, there was no choice whatsoever. There would be hell to pay if my green mutant friends with their Chex/Lucky Charms amalgamation didn't return from the grocery store. Hell!

I started noticing sometime in the early-2000's that cereal mascots slowly began fading from TV. I recently looked into it more and it's my understanding that, in today's health-conscience society, parents don't want these companies marketing what is essentially sugar in a spoon to their children. This has caused a major reduction in these types of ads. Sure, you can still see a few here and there, but nothing like the saturation of yesteryear. As a health-conscience person, I understand this line of thinking, but am a bit sad to see it go. There was a certain amount of charm and appeal in the characters and they stand as symbols of a more carefree time in my life. Also, I was an idiot kid that let cartoon birds, rabbits and bears sell me cereal. GOD!

I think I still have my most-beloved cereal prizes tucked away in a plastic bin at my mom's house. Maybe someday I'll pull them out and post pics here (because why not?).

A funny thing happened in the toy aisle...

I'm fast approaching 30. It's on the horizon. September, in fact.

It's a number. That's all it is for me. I won't start wearing Depends when I hit that number (unless I get into some kinky shit that I can't fathom right now) or suddenly wear a suit and tie everyday and carry a briefcase. It just won't happen. My brain won't let it.

Confession: I'm nostalgic. No, really, horribly nostalgic. I live, eat, sleep and breathe stuff from years gone by and, apparently, I'm not the only one.

 I think companies know this about people like me from my generation because for the past decade I've seen pretty much everything I used to love resurrected in some form or fashion.

The Transformers have been back in full force, albeit with mixed responses, since Michael Bay's first movie in 2007 where a bunch of metal pieces fought each other, Shia Lebouf did some shouting and Megan Fox did some... well, she did something. The Thundercats made their way back with a cartoon last year and He-Man made an even earlier comeback in 2003. One of my other favorites, the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, of which my younger self was absolutely obsessed, have been on and off television and the big screen ever since their original show ended. They've been published in comics as well, so I never felt the were out of reach.

But still, anytime I hear of a TMNT revival my heart skips a beat. I'm instantly transported to Birthdays or Christmases of the late 1980's and early 1990's where my presents were pretty much all green and had the word "Cowabunga" on them.

Full disclosure: When it came to toys I was spoiled kid. I know it. I admit it. I was fortunate and I'm not bragging (it didn't necessarily contribute in positive ways later in life). If it was an action figure, I usually got it. My parents weren't rich by any means. No, I'd say we were lower middle class all the way, but I was an only child and they were eager to please (or just shut me the hell up). They were good, however, about making sure I didn't overextend myself. They drew a line and wouldn't let me collect too many different sets of toys at the same time. I honestly don't know how they did it, but I'm extremely thankful for it. I didn't have any siblings, so make-believe was up to me and my action figures.

Anyway, it's that time again: TMNT are back on the shelves. I'd heard the rumblings for the past six months or so ('cause, damn it, I keep up with this shit! It's important!), so I've been creeping through the toy aisle at Wal-Mart for a while. If you ask my wife, I never stop creeping through that aisle.

Today? Today, my friends, the eight-year-old inside me (insert pedophilia joke here) got the semi-long-awaited reward he'd been wanting:

That's right, I got Raphael (my favorite turtle, thanks). Yeah, I'm pretty badass for buying this, I know, considering I don't have children and, ahem, WILL BE 30 NEXT MONTH!

What's that? Another photo? Sure!

Look, I make no bones about it: I'm a big kid. I don't exactly play with this stuff, I put it up in my "Nerd Cave", but in my mind I might as well be having the epic action figure battles I staged as a kid. I don't care what anyone says or thinks. If you get too old to enjoy things, even small ridiculous things, then you might as well pack it up and get the coffin ready.

Me, though... I'll probably buy Raphael when he's re-re-re-re-released when I'm in my 80's.