Dustin Martin Irwin was awoken by the alarm clock.
Dustin hated being awake.
Sleep was better.
Sleep was where he could be The Jade Shade.
Awake was where he had to put on a stupid clip-on tie, sweaty dress socks, scratchy dress shoes, face morning traffic, and moron morning-zoo radio, and be a substitute teacher at Elisa Jack elementary school
Putting up with Kimber's sneering, and his children's "adorable precocious hijinks", wasn't a thrilling prospect either.
Oh, why couldn't he switch off like a lightbulb, and grab 10 more minutes of zs?
Just 10 more?
No dice, no matter how tired he was, awake was awake.
Every now and then, he found some extra change doubling as a party magician.
It was the last pitiful mangled scrap of his youthful dream that Kimber allowed him.
And that with a glare of shame burning at his back.
The childhood detective agency, the treasure hunting adventures?
Dead as Jackie Paper.
Adulthood was for being sensible, and responsible, and dependable.
All those "ible", words.
So Kimber kept telling him.
Many was the time during the miserable commute he asked himself "why am I alive, exactly? What keeps me breathing? What's the point to this?".
He sighed, went down to the kitchen, withstood the slings and arrows, drank the stanky coffee, and contemplated the loathsomeness of even that suburbanite ritual.
"Coffee isn't good. Everyone just drinks it. Everyone just gets on board, and does what everyone does, because "this is what we do", "you're a grownup, drink your coffee, imbibe your caffeine to face the daily horror"", Dustin gloomed.
He listened to his children, and tried to find something about them to...well, like.
Valueless little bastards.
All they wanted was stuff.
And what meaningless shit it all was.
Cell phones, to text their equally vapid friends, in meaningless jargon about meaningless things.
The girl preferred more doodads, and in vomitous pink.
They weren't even teenagers yet, and they were loathsome.
The corporate machine had refined its techniques, and sunk the tendrils in earlier, and earlier.
Making good little consumer robots.
And his wife had shat a fresh batch forth.
The American dream.
Soon, he was going to work to afford to shovel fuel into their furnaces.
"Kimber, what happened to her? What happened to her spirit?", Dustin thought, as he stared at that haggard face.
"She probably blames me for this, but, she was the one that wanted this crap. To fit in with her shitty snobby bitch friends".
He looked at the girl, and saw Kimber in her future.
"What happened to feminism? What happened to Astronaut Barbie? What happened to Wonder Woman? What the fuck happened?", he said to himself while glowering.
Kimber noticed the glowering, and glowered back.
All of this couldn't be more horrible if slime were oozing off the walls, and half-sleeping monsters were hissing.
Dustin could stand no more, he was on the verge of screaming, so, he shot out of his seat, and said "whelp, better hit the old dusty trail! Don't wanna be late!", with fake pep.
He kissed Kimber passionlessly on the way out.
"Because that's what we do".
On the commute, he saw that emaciated guy who looked like a younger Tim Burton.
"Who the fuck is that guy, and why does he look so damned familiar?", he always asked himself.
Traffic was jammed good and tight this morning.
He literally could get out and walk faster.
Dammit, this day was the limit.
He wanted an adventure.
He put the car in park, turned off the key, got out, and started walking toward Tim-Burton-Guy.
He was going to DEMAND to know who this asshole was.
"Excuse me, sir, do I know you?", Dustin asked.
Tim-Burton-Guy startled, as if he were the naked emperor just noticing his nakedness.
This only encouraged Dustin "well??".
Tim-Burton-Guy turned, ready to run.
Dustin was stricken by an inexplicable powerful impulse to tackle him.
He did so.
As they landed, reality flickered.
And in that flicker, he was The Jade Shade.
Mask, duster, gloves, the whole deal.
And it felt right.
It. Felt. RIGHT.
He grabbed Tim-Burton-Guy, by the shoulders, and slammed him against the macadam.
Reality flickered again, trace memories came back.
He bashed him again.
Dustin/Jade-Shade threw a punch into his stomach.
Reality flickered again, and stayed in the JS reference frame a little longer.
Jade-Shade started pounding, and it all came back.
Tim-Burton-Guy was Mr. Sleepy Seeds, an alleged master of dreams.
JS knew that had to be bullshit.
Dreams are just a screensaver that runs while you defrag overnight.
There was no magic.
This had to be drugs.
A cocktail of DMT, LSD, and some other goodies.
Some hippie homeopathic herbal crap for good measure.
Mr. Sleepy Seeds whimpered "..don't understand...it always works on the others...everyone's dream...the hero always secretly yearns to be normal...it always works...".
JS grabbed his shirt, held him close, and growled, spraying spittle inside the mask.
"Aren't you stupid!!".
He said it again, punctuating each word with a stomach punch.
"Aren't! You! STUPID!!":.
"AREN'T!! YOU!! STUPID!!".
Mr. Sleepy Seeds was a tiny guy.
The level of beating JS gave him was really unnecessary, he thought, as he looked back on it.
"Too bad, he actually pissed me off, he's lucky he's alive", JS fumed inwardly.
He'd laid a blanket of hurtings across him that would've hospitalized Mike Tyson.
Mr. Sleepy Seeds would be taking his meals intravenously for the next six months or so.
JS leaned against the nearest dumpster, waiting for the drugs to wear off.
It took forever.
It pissed him off even more that it took forever.
He dug around on Mr. Sleepy Seeds's person, found the drugs, and gave him all of it.
"Happy landings, motherfucker", he grumbled.
Mr. Sleepy Seeds was going to spend some time in a mental hospital in a cell next to Hadesburster to boot.
After a couple more hours, JS wandered off, he mostly had his senses back, but things were still trailing.
The next night, he was back on his favorite rooftop.
He'd faced his worst Hell, and come out stronger.
No doubt about it.
He was the Jade Shade, through and through.
No going back.
He went back to not dreaming.
Dreams are for people who aren't living them, he figured.
He most certainly was.
Mark Augustine studied the latest file across his desk.
It chronicled the boogedy tale of "The Green Monster".
It stretched back 16 years, and centered around the city with many names, but Mark got a kick out of "Lentilville".
In 1997, on the outskirts of Lentilville, The Green Monster popped up in people's windows, scaring the shit out of some redneck farmers, and little old ladies.
A year later, Lentilville experienced one of the worst school shootings in national history.
It was pinned on one of the kids, one Dustin Martin Irwin.
He was later absolved, but the kid was clearly fucked up for life.
Was The Green Monster responsible?
Who could say?
January 15th, 2013, "The Green Monster", resurfaces, calling itself "The Jade Shade".
And from there, it got a lot more interesting, and definately a whole lot of strange.
This was right up Mark Augustine's alley.
"Time for Hadesburster to pay a little visit to Lentilville", Mark said with an enthused grin as he lit up a cigarette.
Mark Augustine, Hadesburster, arrived in Lentilville in disguise.
He'd dyed his hair brown from the usual blonde, and taken to speaking with an American accent to hide his British one.
Also, he'd switched his usual brown trench-coat for a black duster.
If anyone who knew him had seen him, they'd be offended by the very implication that it was supposed to be him.
"No way that's fuckin' Hadesburster! Hadesburster looks like fuckin' Sting, you asshole!".
They would say.
That's how good this disguise was.
After asking around in the usual places one found underworld scum, Augustine quickly found victims of The Jade-Shade, and culled together a rough map of his patrol area.
By midnight, he stumbled onto him.
A truly ghastly creature, clad in black, with a green skull for a face.
Some sort of Dryad, perhaps.
Whatever the fuck that was.
He set up a containment spell, and then fired a ball of blue magic at him.
Jade-Shade stared in confusion, as a blue sparkler bounced off his chest.
"Seriously?", he remarked.
"Demon of the underworld, know that I am Mark Augustine! A name you have no doubt heard! You know that I'm no one to be trifled with!", Augustine bellowed theatrically.
"Wait...Augustine? Aren't you that guy on the news who's been charged with blowing up that church full of people? And...aren't you supposed to look like Sting? What's with the dye job, and the bad surfer dude accent?", JS replied casually.
"I...regret that that had to be done. The Earth would have been ruled by Hell if not for those necessary actions", Augustine said sadly, while badly sneaking another sparkler towards his lighter.
JS stayed calm, and in the conversation "no, see, there's no Hell to conquer the Earth, and there's no Heaven that those people went to. You're just a boring ordinary murderer. Those people are dead, and they're not coming back. They died for absolutely nothing. You're a fucking wacko. Exactly like the wackos on 9/11".
"Silence, Mergal! You're trying to confuse me with your treacherous demon ways!!", Augustine barked as he hurled another sparkler, and mumbled some guttural gibberish.
"Okay, that's enough of you", JS said, boredom in this voice, as he fired a bolt from his (recently repainted) wrist crossbow into Augustine's leg.
Augustine plopped to the ground, and then immediately entered a trance, and (convinced himself that) he entered an astral projection state.
JS stood at his meditation spot on the roof of the town hall building again.
Pondering, that among the various "spiritualitys", he had yet to see one that didn't eventually go all authoritarian and wacky.
It was all the same, just like the political extremes.
"There's no magic in this world, never was", he grumbled, as he flashed back to not just Mark Augustine's crimes, but the heap of human wreckage the world used to know as The Prodigious Mass.
"Flim-flam, and tricks, just like in my old childhood magic book. All those years ago, I learned it", he thought.
"Well, at least this duster fits well on me", JS observed, as he admired the figure he cut in Augustine's stolen coat.
"He won't be needing it where he is, don't think he'll mind".
And, he didn't.
He had a nice new coat with long sleeves.
Months later, in the padded cell of the Lentilville mental hospital, Augustine's "projection", had, and has, yet to return to this plane.
Jade-Shade was back in The Mayor's office for the first time since receiving the The Prodigious Mass assignment.
He stood calm, tall, arms crossed, and slightly in the shadows.
"Look, I know you tried to get me murdered out there, don't insult my intelligence by trying to pretend".
The Mayor shifted uncomfortably, searching for something to say.
"I brought down the last administration, from Mayor, almost all the way down to Dog Catcher, and since then, I've taken out six phony superheroes. What makes you think you can be the one to mess with me? Hmm?".
The Mayor gulped.
"Nope, we're not doing this. I tried to play this nice, like in the books, but I am what I am, and you are what you are. Stay out of my way. Try your tricky-dickie stuff again, you're in for a world of hurt".
The Mayor's face became stern.
"You've made a powerful enemy, you...".
"...little shit?", JS tacked on.
"Heard it before...not impressed".
JS started to walk out, and turned back.
"Oh, and also....go fuck yourself, you cowardly little rat".
He flipped him the bird, and slipped out the door.
Turns out, he really hadn't made a powerful enemy.
An enemy, sure, but what with the cops refusing to haul him in, be it from respect, apathy, or fear, The Mayor was a toothless little bureaucrat.
And a lame duck, as it would turn out in the next election.
JS stood with his foot up on a heating duct, on the roof of the town hall building, staring up at the stars.
He was reflecting over the past, and the future, as he did on the night he originally made an alliance with the new mayor, and just before Peerless Person showed up, and at the same exact spot.
He knew back then, the villains would be getting tougher, and more complicated, and they had, somewhat, and he welcomed it now, like he did then.
Course, one worry, where was the money going to come from?
He needn't have worried, turned out, his janitor job was waiting for him like he'd never left.
He had the eerie sense someone was pulling some strings for that to happen.
He experienced the same queasy spied on feeling as he did when he got the mask on his doorstoop.
Somebody out there liked him...but in what way, and to what end?
"...more complicated indeed", the thought to himself, barely containing muttering it.
Not that anyone would have understood.
Nor cared what Dusty The Janitor had to say.
When Dusty got home to his apartment, there was another package waiting for him.
He was surprised that the landlord hadn't kicked him out, changed the locks, and thrown out all his stuff for being gone so long.
He opened the package when he got inside, and was...confused.
It was a book.
A yellowed smelly old book from the 1940's.
Accompanying it was a note, saying simply "from a fan".
The hair stood up on the back of his neck.
But....the mask had worked out okay, so he chanced it, and opened it up, and began to read.
Incredulously at first, and then deeply, and then voraciously.
He gobbled it up in an afternoon.
The book was called "Combatant", and concerned the exploits of one Danny Hugo, from birth, to death.
Hugo was transfromed in the womb by his scientists father's experimental serum, and born with superhuman powers.
Strength, speed, super leaping, and bulletproof skin.
Dusty worked out the dates, and this thing came out just before the boom in superhero comics.
Danny Hugo died in the story, and was forgotten by history, and so too was its author.
Comics had built itself up on their bones.
And so too, by extension, the heroes, both real, and pseudo, inspired by those comics.
So, Dusty figured, it was only fitting, that he, as The Jade Shade, should carve out his legacy atop their bones.
All remaining guilt over the "heroes", he'd taken down so far evaporated.
"I shall avenge you", he whispered to both the book's protagonist, and its author.
He turned the last page, and scrawled out in pen on the inside back cover was "here's your bible- a fan".
"Indeed", he grumbled.
He and "a fan", were going to have to meet someday.
The citizens of Stratumberg were just dippy about their superhero.
His handle was Comrade Crimson Crossbow, a red garbed Robin Hood knockoff with a wrist mounted crossbow who robbed from the robber barons, and gave to the needy.
The local politicos and business criminals hated him.
Usually, a good sign.
When Dusty arrived, people spoke of Comrade Crimson Crossbow openly, and proudly.
Quite a turnaround since the last incident, Dusty reflected.
Perhaps this guy was worth teaming up with, he contemplated.
Maybe Stratumberg had what it took to be Jade-Shade's new home.
But, then he reminded himself, Phidey had the rubes fooled too.
Well, at least he had UN's shield in his arsenal to fend off those little wrist arrows.
It was now spray-painted black with a rough stencil of the JS mask in the middle in metallic green.
If things went south, he had a bit of a chance against CCC.
After getting settled in, JS started going out on his usual patrol hours looking for CCC.
On night four, he found him.
Or, more to the point, CCC found him.
"Hi there!", CCC said in a friendly manner, stepping out from behind a dumpster, his hand extended.
JS had passed this dumpster several times before, CCC had been following and observing him.
JS hesitated, handshakes could be booby-trapped with any number of surprises.
CCC noted this, and said "fair enough, you're right, why trust me?".
JS graveled "you have good press, but good press is easy enough to buy".
CCC chuckled "right indeed, smart man, yes, again, you're right. Well, what do I have to do to satisfy you I'm on your side?".
"I'll know it when I see it", JS muttered.
"How about we go on patrol together, and we can talk along the way?", CCC offered.
JS thought it over for a few moments and said "sure".
So, they went out on patrol.
Stopped a couple muggers.
That felt all right.
Not so much when CCC took the money from a rich old lady's purse gotten back from a snatcher, and gave it to the Salvation Army guy instead.
The night went south from there when CCC started his political yammerings.
He was a little too enamored of scumbags like Guevara, and Chavez, for one.
"What was it with these hippie types, and Guevara?", JS asked himself disgustedly.
Warning phrases like "the cause", and "the greater good", and "the greater glory", and "acceptable speech", started to creep in.
JS figured CCC must have thought he was into this bullshit because of his...disagreement with UN.
When "breaking eggs", and "martyrs", slipped out JS had had enough.
"It's always the same. These fucking people. Ultranational, Comrade Crimson Crossbow, it's all the same", JS gloomed internally.
As he simultaneously hurled UN's shield at CC's head with all of his strength from three feet away.
"Whoops!", he uttered to anyone who happened to witness.
CCC dropped like a sack of potatoes, and started letting out an indescribable goose-bump raising shrieking.
His cheekbone and eye socket were pulverized, and his lower jaw was separated.
As JS casually removed CCC's wrist crossbow, CCC gurgled something, that if JS could have interpreted it, would have been "fascist, running dog, dittohead, blah, blah, blah".
JS assumed as much, and contemplated how the crossbow would look, black, with metallic green bolts.
Fucking awesome is how, he decided.
"Phidippus-Dude, Ultranational, Comrade Crimson Crossbow, they've all been as phony as Peerless Person in their way", JS thought to himself ruefully.
CCC continued shrieking hate at him as he rolled on the ground in agony.
"Y'know, all politicians and their voter dupes are UN or CCC to some degree in their way. That's why I hate politics, and...indeed both mayors back home. Well, that settles it, I can't leave the people alone with that critter, I'm going back home", JS resolved.
JS gave CCC an identical flip-off to UN as he marched away.
Quite possibly the very best episode of the series. Screw it, I'm calling it. THE best. I fall in love with Mariette Hartley all over again every time I see it, and I always almost bawl at the end. Yes, under the very thick coating of anger, and cynicism, and contempt, and irritation, I'm a romantic sucker.
Mocking brats- Mike loves Marriette Haaaartleyyy!
*Long sigh* oh, yeah, I so totally do. :-) Anyway, this episode won her an Emmy. It's that good.
Ah, there, finally got those upgraded.
Just need Adam West, and those racist serials.
So, here's my re-reassessment.
Oh, man, this looks SO old now.
Jack Nicholson Joker no longer holds up.
I'm sorry, he doesn't.
His best lines are "wait 'til they get a load of me", "where does he get those wonderful toys?", and "he's at home, washing his tights!".
Everything else, argh.
Especially every line he says about or to Vicky Vale.
Nostalgia is the only reason to watch this.
Although, I've got a bone to pick with people who think this "wasn't faithful to the source material".
It totally was.
This one 100% nails the 40's Bob Kane Batmans.
For better and for worse.
Seriously, go fucking read them.
And no less an authority than Bob Kane himself thought so.
He loved the fucking thing.
Still my favorite of these ones, and it gets better with age. Anne Hathaway's Catwoman was excellent, but Pfeiffer's still holds up for me.
They shove Penguin in your face, and he's great too, but Catwoman steals this thing.
"Batman", was the shake out cruise compared to this one.
In the light of the first one not aging well, this one is just as dumb, in every single way, and vice versa.
I'm sorry, if you hate this one, and love the first one, you're in denial, or on crack.
Watch 'em right now.
One and three, back to back.
Tell me with a straight face that part one is better.
Go ahead and try.
I physically dare you.
Batman and Robin
Yeah, it's still as bad as everyone says, and as bad as you remember, but it's the natural sequel to "Forever".
I mean, look, Two-Face was played as Joker 2.0, and Poison Ivy was Catwoman 2.0.
They've all got their cheese, and they called back to stuff you liked, so the old complaints don't hold water.
The track they were going on wasn't gonna lead to Frank Miller.
Sorry, it wasn't.
They paid lip service to Miller, but it was bullshit.
This quadrilogy was all Bob Kane.
The first two were the 40's, three was 50's, this was 60's.
They completed the Bat Family, so they went full on Adam West.
I don't agree with the artistic choice, but it was a valid one.
It was the wrong one, but it was valid.
They didn't pull this Batman out of their ass, it was in the fucking comics.
Deal with it.
Stop the fanboy lies, and face it.
You may want to pretend the Tony Martin years of Black Sabbath don't count, but it's 10 fucking years of band history.
We've got the Nolan trilogy, so all is well.
And, these laid the groundwork that made them possible.
Deny it at your peril.
Anyway, DVD wise, bonus features are all text.
You get what normally goes in the paper pamphlets.
No commentary, no documentary.
Set was worth the price for "Returns", and this review.
Like I said here, needed this one, and now I just need "The Wraith", and "Dredd", and I'll be all caught up on my superhero flick collection.
Except for this year's crop, of course.
You know...I think this is really the only M. Night Shyamalan flick that holds up.
"The Sixth Sense", loses steam once you know the big secret, and the rest of 'em...are crap.
And getting worse with each picture.
I mean, come on, fucking "After Earth".
But this, I could watch it again and again.
It's a special little flick.
I think history will vindicate this one in the long run.
Anyway, DVD, bonuses are all on the second disc.
There's a nice little documentary with a bunch of comics people that's kind of a mini update to "Superheroes Unmasked", then a making-of with Shyamalan waxing pretentious, and then deleted scenes introduced by Shyamalan that you're glad they deleted.
My old reviews still hold up for the flicks themselves.
Galactica....I probably should have thrown in with Star Wars Ripoffs, but...I dunno, my mind kinds of walls it off as its own thing for some reason.
Anyway, the pilot film is decent enough, but...I actually thought the schlock films were more fun.
This is pretty slow.
I did have fun matching it up in my mind with the remake pilot, seeing how this version hit all the various key plot points differently.
Bonuses are just about as plain-Jane as the Batmans were.
Only "Starfighter", has a commentary.
"Flash", has a nice little mini documentary of Alex Ross gushing over and defending the flick, and then quickly plugging his new DVD art.
"Starfighter", also has a nice little nostalgia doc by the cast and crew.
And, I guess that's it.
Good to have these flicks upgraded all in one whack.
I'd put it off long enough.
Plain greed held this back.
I'm an idiot.
I kept holding out for the full-blown "Alien Legacy", quadrilogy boxed set, and some other expensive item would always come along and become more necessary, like a replacement DVD player, or a new computer, or something.
It was always something.
And year after year, that set would never get dirt cheap enough.
Finally, I was like..."I only like the first 2 anyway...what the hell".
So, there, that's done.
"Alien", has Ridley Scott commentary, deleted scenes, production art, yadda, yadda.
"Aliens", no commentary, but a long James Cameron interview from the 90's, and all the production art type stuff.
For "Aliens", it's the director's version, so the deleted scenes are cut into the film, and it's all good stuff, as I recall.
I had this same version on VHS.
Still waiting on "Poultrygeist", and "Troma's War", for my Troma review part 2.
So, the heroine is a bond girl, and you've also got Marjoe Gortner as the Obi-Wan archetype, Christopher Plummer as the good space emperor, David Hasselhoff as a belatedly arriving Luke Skywalker clone, and Joe Spinelli (from fucking "Maniac"!), as the hilariously cartoonish Darth Vader of the thing.
Also, there's a robot (man in suit) with a bad southern accent.
It's so bad, it's delightful.
Hasselhoff fighting stop-motion robots with a lightsaber.
That's all I have to say.
There, I just blew your mind, and made you have to see this.
Battle Beyond The Stars (1980)
Produced by Roger Corman.
So, of the three, this one sincerely tried to recapture the flavor of Star Wars without apology.
So, this time, John-Boy is the Luke Skywalker clone.
You've also got George Peppard, Robert Vaughn, and Sybil Danning.
And John Saxon as the Darth Vader.
And, you've got James Horner, composer of "Wrath Of Khan", scoring, and that really Star Wars-es it up.
James Cameron got his start in the business doing production design on this.
John-Boy's spaceship with titties must have been his baby.
(No, seriously, look right at the poster, the ship has tits).
Now, in "Starcrash",...there's no nice way to put it, the good guys were miserable failures right up until the final act when they commit an expensive act of Kamikaze demolition.
Here, there's slightly more competence on display.
Except from John-Boy, who's own female starship AI brutally harangues his pathetic pussitude.
Worth the whole movie for that alone.
That's what the prequels needed.
So, yeah, pretend these are the Star Wars prequels, because they're actually fucking better.
When you come out the other end of a marathon of these, you will have actually have had a good time.
The citizens of Sectorville were afraid of their superhero.
His handle was The Ultranational, a flag spangled nightmare of a person who ruled with paranoia, and bigotry.
The local politicos and business criminals loved him.
When Dusty arrived, people spoke of Ultranational in hushed tones, and with various concealing nicknames.
Dusty quickly sussed out, that UN's patriotism was as phony as Peerless Person's powers, and Phidey's selflessness.
On top of all that, he was another steroid case like Prodigious Mass.
Just what Dusty/JS needed, another no-neck freak.
Sadly, he'd used up his one and only stickybomb.
A shame he didn't get to reproduce those before the shit hit the fan with The Mayor.
He'd just have to get sneakier.
There was no question that Ultranational had to go.
Rotten heroes, villains, it was all the same.
Except the former was worse, as they damaged the reputation of what Dusty/JS was trying to build.
First, he'd have to study and memorize UN's patrols like he did with Desmodus-Guy...
The Ultranational was out on patrol, when suddenly, a bear trap snapped around his left ankle.
Just when he let out a yell, he was hit in the neck with a knockout dart, and all went black.
He awoke in an alleyway, stripped to his mask and boxer shorts, wrists and ankles tied behind his back and together with zip ties.
Jade-Shade stepped out of the shadows.
"Hi, Nazi", he graveled.
"I'll show you Nazi, you fucking queer!", UN barked.
"Jeez, it always goes there, what is it with you guys?", JS snarked, barely containing a chuckle.
JS/Dusty flashed back to the school bullies, and the scum in prison.
All the same mold.
No variation whatever.
Like they were stamped out of a factory.
It was kind of boring in a way.
"When I get out of this, I'll make you wish you'd never been born, you America-hating socialist pig!", UN bellowed.
"Your country isn't America, it's Hell", JS shot back with a perfunctory deadpan, like correcting a child's spelling.
"Socialist piece of...", UN hissed.
JS cut him off "I guess Sectorville is full of socialists then, I've asked around, nobody likes you. Nobody. They think you're a bully, and a thug. I think they're right. I think 9/11 opened up all the dumpsters. Now it's time to clean up the trash. You tell that to all your Nazi little buddies, by the way. America's going to have some real superheroes, and there's no room for any more of this riff-raff".
"I'm not a Nazi!", UN almost whimpered.
"Well, we'll let Sectorville decide. I'm going to leave you here strung up like a piggy, and, they can cut you loose, and be miserable again, or dispose of you like rubbish".
"I'm not a Nazi!!!!", UN screamed, hoping for someone to hear, tears starting to show in his voice, if not his eyes.
"Uh huh, yeah, you tell yourself that, champ. Tell yourself you're too big to fail while you're at it", JS said, a smile obviously in his voice, not at all trying to hide it.
JS flashed back to The Ultranational's cute little USO shows.
He morbidly wondered...what was the difference between walking into a school, and mowing down children, and waiting a few years, and brainwashing those same children as teenagers into getting shot for oil profits.
And that spun off the thought, what was the difference, between mowing down kids, pretending to be Desmodus-Guy, and gaining the worship of your victims parents, and doing the whole war-booster thing, and gaining the worship of your victims parents.
There probably was one.
JS couldn't find it, though.
He'd have to consult a philosopher someday.
Some other time, today was for destroying The Ultranational.
"I'm not a Nazee-hee-hee-hee!!", UN sobbed.
"You guys are always victims. No one else is though. The poor, the raped, the defrauded.
It's always their fault. Take away a bully's power, he's the victim. You keep right on sobbing, Susan. You've made it clear you don't believe your citizens are going to help. That's as much an admission of guilt as I'm ever going to get from one of you piggies. Hey, maybe one of your oil baron buddies might drive by. Y'think? No, bad PR, I bet", JS mused aloud tauntingly.
A crowd started to gather.
They looked like they had on gang colors.
"Ah, your saviors at last. Well, I don't want to get in the way of this heartwarming reunion, so, I'm going to hit the road as it were", JS remarked casually.
JS held up UN's shield.
"You don't deserve this. Taking it".
"Commie, pinko, traitor!! Terrorist!! Devil worshipper!!", UN barked through tears and snot.
JS lazily flipped him the bird.
As JS turned the corner, whatever the gang members were doing to UN made him make a stuck pig noise.
Further on that note...yeah, this feels more like wrapping up phase 1 than starting off phase 2.
These flicks totally hinge on Robert Downey Jr, and he knows it. I'm loving his contract negotiations with Marvel/Disney.
He's saving kids, and fighting super powered villains in this one, so...yeah, in terms of what he got to do with this trilogy/quadrilogy, he's totally the new generation's Christopher Reeve.
As always, stay after the credits. It's a fun scene.
Um, people are saying it's the best, I dunno about the best, Avengers was the best, but, this is pretty great. Okay, it's the best of the ones with "Iron Man", in the title. For sure.
My one nitpick, and this is probably just me...soundtrack. The only song from the CD that makes it on here is "some kind of joke", and it's faint in the background of the restaurant scene.
Seriously, I listened to, and memorized the chorus to all the songs so I could lock onto them as they popped up, and that's all you get. The end credits were just orchestral score stuff. The end credits of Iron Man had "Iron Man", Iron Man 2 had "shoot to thrill", Avengers had "live to rise", I felt a little let down there. But, again, maybe it's just me. Was kinda hoping for "big bad wolves". Which...copyright cops have taken down everywhere, so you're on your own for a sample.
Um...yeah, that's it, everything else is spoiler-y.
You'll have a blast.
09 to now with Robert Downey Jr. Iron Man has been a helluva ride.
It'll be 20 years minimum before they dare recast him.
Well, I kinda sorta spoiled it yesterday with the TWOK anniversary post, but, I'll spoil it outright, because I don't think the big secret deserves to be a big secret, it should have been the selling point of the fucking flick.
Okay? It's Khan.
I spoiled it for myself a month or so ago.
Didn't ruin a damned thing for me.
In fact, I've had the whole damned plot spoiled, and still enjoyed it.
IMHO, the best since TWOK, possibly tied, possibly better. Gotta let it settle in my mind for a few days.
There were a lot of Star Wars knockoffs back in the day.
This was quite possibly the best.
It's Japanese Star Wars, and it's Godzilla-budget cheese, and I fucking love it.
This ripped off a lot of Star Wars ideas, but ESB and ROTJ turned right around, and ripped this off.
Damn, that Lucas is a hack.
Luckiest man in showbiz.
So...imagine the Jedi are chosen by magic glowing walnuts, and that even Artoo-Detoo gets to be one.
Also imagine, Princess Leia's ship has sails, and steampunk controls, Leia's split into two characters, Luke's split into three characters, Han solo and Obi-Wan are merged into one character, and both droids are merged into one character, and serve the same story function as Chewie.
And finally, imagine Darth Vader shows his face, and looks like he was designed by the artists on Voltron, and the Emperor is female, and his mom (and also Voltron-ed up).
Hey, it's better than fucking TPM.
And come to think of it, Lucas visually stole the pod race from this too.
Words can't describe the joy "Manborg", brought me.
I thought that kind of pure childlike happiness had died in me.
Nope, just no one was making movies that tapped into it.
I had the chance to buy it at Bull Moose last trip, but...price wise, it was either "Manborg", or the Hannibals.
Couldn't have both.
And I'd reeeeaaally put off finishing that series off for a long time.
It was just time to do that.
Next time...next time....
American Mary (2013)
In a similar vein style wise as the original "Human Centipede"
Finally, a horror movie made by women that doesn't suck.
(I'm fucking looking at you, "Boxing Helena").
So...how to describe it without writing a spoilerriffic essay....
It's the strip club, rape-revenge, underground plastic surgery, lady-mad-doctor-psycho-killer movie you always wanted to see, but didn't know you wanted to see, until your heart told you as you were watching movie.
It all comes down to Katherine Isabelle.
She's fucking awesome.
She's....I kept thinking "Shannen Doherty if she didn't suck", but....that scratches the surface.
Just...watch the flick.
It comes to DVD June 18th.
Think I'm gonna nab that too.
Christ, it's heaps better than "High Tension", and "Feast", and I bought those fucking things....
Okay, plot is, a drunken party clown entertains a bunch off asshole kids who heckle and prank him until he trips and falls on a dishwasher shelf full of knives, and dies.
6 years later, the awful kids grow up into awful teenagers, who we desperately want dead, but don't get to see start to get killed until 47 minutes in.
Said killing is performed by the party clown raised from the dead by some ancient pagan rite performed by his fellow clowns.
He comes back with magical powers allowing him to commit cartoony deaths.
I wanted to like this a lot more than I did, but it fell flat as a tapioca fart.
The big dumb ending comes from a mile away, and leaves it open for shitty sequels.
Normally, I'd be all depressed, and wonder if I was getting too old for this shit, but no, it's not me, because I loved "Manborg".
Fuck you, "Stitches", you just sucked.