Giant Robots Invade Japan

At long last, it’s true. However, it’s Japanese concerns that are building life-size mock-ups of robot favorites.

Though this particular Gundam is planned to come down, I have a suspicion it will remain.

Torgo: Failed at Bitches

This has been in the works for a while as a Yakmala project. Every year, I make a special soundtrack for the Yakmala group made up of some of the songs and dialogue we hear over the year’s Yakmala sessions. For last year’s 2008 CD, my friend Seth Linker wrote a song in the voice of Torgo, the not-quite-satyr manservant from the classic “‘Manos:’ the Hands of Fate.” Ever since, we’ve discussed a video for YouTube consumption. Thanks to editing wizard Rob Bradfield, we now have Torgo: Failed at Bitches.

The title is derived from an in-joke amongst Yakmala folk. When we watched the film (without Joel and the Bots), we misheard the line “You have failed us, Torgo” and “You have failed at Torgo.” “Failed at Torgo” became shorthand for bungling a simple task. Like any sub-culture, Yakmala gives rise to obtuse vernacular.

Grant Morrison & Clive Barker @ Meltdown Hollywood

Last night, I was out at Meltdown Comics in Hollywood. Clive Barker interviewed Grant Morrison before his book signing. I covered it for CBR. Here’s a sample:

When Barker opened the floor to questions, someone asked about Philip K. Dick. Morrison is not exactly an avid reader of the science fiction novelist often cited on the Internet as an influence. “I haven’t really read Philip K. Dick at all,” Morrison said, although he has read a biography on the man. Morrison has also read Dick’s enigmatic novel, “VALIS,” saying “it made sense to me.” He also read “Time Out of Joint” and “The Transmigration of Timothy Archer,” the latter being almost a straight literary novel with only implied science fiction underpinnings, according to Morrison.

I’ve seen Morrison several times at Q & A sessions and this question comes up a lot. More from Morrison and Barker plus awesome photos from my friend Duane McLemore at CBR.

The Fuller Equation, Chapter Five

5. Fuller Goes to a Funeral

This is easy as long as the movements stay mechanical. Pants on. Shirt cuffs buttoned. I approach the tie with some ambivalence. It was the imagemakers who added it to my wardrobe and this is my last official appearance with the campaign. I’m all in black and here’s this red tie. That used to be me: the Man in Red.

Even at my grandmother’s funeral, I wore a red shirt.

Scanning the hotel room, I see the sum total of things. A life transformed by processed air and too many salmon dinners. I wonder what kind of disaster Valerija made of my apartment. When was the last time I was even there?

There’s a knock at the door. “Room service!” I open the door and a young man places a tray on the nearby desk. I reach into my wallet for a couple of bucks. He nods and says, “That won’t be necessary. Just sign for it.” He says. I can see the edge of a tattoo reaching from the color of his shirt. He hands me a bill to sign. “My friends … we’re going to have a memorial of our own. If you’d like to come by,” he says. He leaves a card next to my breakfast and leaves.

Ms. McKenzie knocks on the door next. Her sound is distinctive. She hits the door with caution; always afraid the thing might break and her hand might shatter in the process. I let her in and she immediately eyes the toast on my breakfast tray. “Feel free. There’s too much for me,” I tell her as I pour some coffee. “I should have another cup around here.”

“Oh, that’s okay. Just toast.”

I sit down next to her and contemplate the choices in front of me. “What’s next for you?” I ask.

“I’m switching back to publicity. Movies are easier than this,” she says.

“Heh. Nice to have that option.”

She spreads some jam on a slice of toast. “Make sure you don’t get that shirt dirty. It’s the only black one we have for you.”

“Noted.”

Transformers Week: Day Five

And at some point, I walked away from Transformers. Unlike Paul, I do not believe one has to put away childish things. At least, not all of them. It is important to retain markers of one’s childhood and to sometimes take refuge in childish pursuits. However, some friends, notions, and well loved objects simply drift from a person’s consciousness.

I can’t really say exactly when or why I lost interest in the Transformers. Some people sustained their interest in the comic books of Simon Furman. I was not one of them. Still others held onto their toy collections while mine dwindled away. At some point, Hasbro stopped ordering episodes of the cartoon and after “The Return of Optimus Prime,” my memories of it grow hazy. Perhaps without the show to sustain it, my investment in the concept and the characters vanished.

Or, perhaps, Batman became a more tantilizing hero. He must’ve reappeared around that time in the first of Tim Burton’s duo of films.

Like He-Man, I can never really return to Transformers. Occasionally, I’ll order the 1985 Movie from Netflix, but the series itself is of questionable quality. My memory of it is probabaly better written.

And perhaps, at least for me, that is where the Robots in Disguise best belong: in memory.