A humidish summer day, the sky threatening rain. At the Asinine Offices, I spent the morning going through the much-neglected slush pile and rejecting more than 50 poems (this never feels good, except when it’s people who have obviously never been to the site). I also uploaded part two of Slim‘s excellent guest-hosting of the Asinine Poetry podcast, which is now online.
Hulk movie not good. Puny director. Studio smashed half of movie before hit screens. Movie feel choppy. Movie feel smashed! Puny villain. No motivation. Hulk . . .
Ahh, enough of that. I guess I’ll go Mr. Fixit from here: Where is Rick Jones when you need him? No doubt spacing out in the Negative Zone. Or maybe he’s signed exclusively to the ill-fated Captain America movie or the ill-fated Avengers movie. I say “ill-fated” because I don’t want them to get made — I believe some stories work best in a certain medium, and it’s a damned shame when they get told outside of that medium. Don’t think of me as a purist. Sure, many stories work better in the medium in which they were created. For example, Underdog — better as an animated cartoon than as a comic book or a live-action movie (for which Jason Lee should finally be euthanized — put out of his misery already). But other stories work better in a new medium — Moses, for example, much better in a movie played by Charlton Heston than in that awkwardly written, contradictory text in which he first appeared. In any case, why complain? Corporations are as corporations do. If they think there’s a profit in it, they’ll strip-mine it, the hell with integrity, nostalgia, or quality. But you knew that already.
Speaking of mixed media, and back to the new Hulk movie, The Incredible Hulk, is a reboot of sorts of the unwatchable 2003 motion picture Hulk (which, by the way, suffered from the great bane of superhero movies — plot reductivism, e.g., villain involved in hero’s origin; bleh). That movie did not make enough movie, so the creators of the new Hulk decided to go back to the unwatchable ’70s TV series starring Bill Bixby. And they threw in some meager easter eggs for the fans — since Marvel is getting all Dr. Doomy on Hollywood now, I guess they can. Best thing in the movie: How much William Hurt in a toupe looks exactly like General “Thunderbolt” Ross. Who knew? Of course, he’s pretty 2D, but Ross always was.
In any case, if Rick Jones were around, maybe he could have fleshed the Holk’s character out a bit, so he wouldn’t seem like such a King Kong retread in this movie. The Hulk is a lot like King Kong, but he’s more like Frankenstein’s monster. And a smidge more of that pathos could have helped this movie. Oh, and those excised 70 minutes would probably help. A lot. Wait for the DVD.
The Millennium Falcon in repose, after a long ride, getting lost in Bedford Stuy, and finally finding Prospect Park via a smoother, less-trafficky new route.
Last week, during the sweltering heatwave in the City, my friend Slim was nice enough to come over to the Asinine Office and record readings of asinine poetry for podcasts. As a select few of you know, the Asinine Offices do not always get the crossbreezes it deserves. So inside, in our periwinkle blue studios, it was as humid and hot as an August in Malaysia. Or what I imagine an August in Malaysia to be like. Could be very cool there, I don’t know. Anyway, thanks to Slim for being a champ and putting up with the sweltering discomfort till the one lone AC slowly, eventually kicked in. I’ve edited the first of her series as guest host and it is now online.
The month starts off with rollicking asininity. The latest issue of AsininePoetry.com is up, including poems by Gordon Stanley, W., and Condoleeza Rice, believe it or not. And somehow I gathered up the energy after a long day of ProKadeema in Prospect Park (don’t ask) to record a new podcast.
I’ve posted one of my old cartoon stories and some highlights from the fourth issue of my zine Mongrel, for no good reason. Click on the thumbnails to see the legible versions.
10. Brought a snack with me to nibble on during the speeches, so I wouldn’t’ve felt such an urge to gnaw on my own forearm for sustenance.
9. Cried when the award was given for the “heart” of the company.
8. Filled my pockets with cookies.
7. Filled my pockets with skewered shrimp.
6. Danced to that one danceable song in a row that came on about 8:17.
5. Not have cussed in Spanish.
4. Remembered that the bathrooms are not co-ed.
3. Seized the stage and read my meeting poetry.
2. Maybe not have had that last glass of wine.
1. Kept my pants on. Or wore interesting underwear.