Venusberg | That's not your heart, it's a piece of helicopter casing

Monday, August 05, 2002

So how was your weekend?

Mine was long, primarily - I took advantage of some time off to head up to George's birthday party thing in Brighton on Wednesday evening, which was fun but did rather reveal the fundamental problem of George. Essentially, every birthday signals a mad dash towards Thundercats and Power Pack merchandise, of which there is a finitude. Said finitude is further circumscribed by the intrinsic quality of diminishment contingent upon any given successful purchase. So you end up with George receiving issues 1-12 of Power Pack for the second time. That's like being hit by comic book lightning twice.

Although at least it provided yet another chance to goggle along with the adverts in comic books of the 80s, from the well-intentioned if dreadful (Spidey's tips on sexual abuse) to the depressingly sure-footed in terms of their target market. (Charles Atlas courses, acne cream, and the high-sugar snacks that no doubt generated the desire for both).

One for the plus ca change department, incidentally. Presumably in the pursuit of a government handout, Marvel Comics included a mini-comic in their general fare a year or two ago in which a rebellious cub reporter for the Daily Bugle fell under the spell of teen idol Zane Whelan, whom you could identify as a bad lot by his hemp-leaf T-shirt. Zane, it turned out, was a "phony", using stage contacts to simulate bloodshot eyes (one of the moral guardians of the USA's more peculiar articles of faith is that marijuana turns your eyes pink. I think they may be mixing it up with Gamecube), and then Mysterio got involved and blah blah fishcakes don't do drugs. Nice. I look forward to the Marvel Special Event this year when the Incredible Hulk beats the tar out of Woody Harrelson.

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