Panel of the Week

From Batman: The Widening Gyre #3:

More fights I'd like to see at the Washington Post

Details are sketchy, but numerous witnesses report that veteran feature editor Henry Allen punched out feature writer Manuel Roig-Franzia on Friday. The fracas took place in sight of Post executive editor Marcus Brauchli's office. Brauchli rushed to separate the two.

It should be noted that Allen is nearly seventy, but he served in the Marines in Vietnam. He also won a Pulitzer prize in 2000 for criticism. Both apparently came into play when Allen jumped Roig-Franzia. (Washingtonian)

Three lessons to take away from this incident.

1) Don't call a co-worker a cocksucker to his face.
2) Especially don't call a former Marine co-worker a cocksucker to his face.
3) The Washington Post Style section is probably the greatest place in the world to work.

But frankly, as entertaining as the story is, it's not an especially sexy one. Even though it involves a fistfight in one of America's most famous newsrooms, I can't imagine that many people know or care who Henry Allen or Manuel Roig-Franzia are. It's similar to how The Huffington Post will occasionally run a front page headline like, Actress Found Dead, and you click on it wondering which famous movie or TV star it could be, only it turns out to be someone whose biggest role was Woman #2 in a Brett Ratner film, who'd ODed in a motel room.

So I'd like to see some of the better-known Post staffers go at it. Not only to settle grudges, both real and imagined (by me), but to give all of us a more interesting story to obsess over. Here are my suggestions.


Michael Wilbon vs. Michael Leahy

Why: In the introduction to When Nothing Else Matters, a wonderfully entertaining and compelling account of Michael Jordan's disastrous time with the Wizards, Leahy mentions an unnamed sportswriter as being upset with his reporting on Jordan: "Someone at my own paper, a sportswriter friend of Jordan, let it be known that he wouldn't talk to me, wouldn't read me." Given that Wilbon is a noted Jordan friend, confidant, and on occasion, apologist, you don't need to be Encyclopedia Brown to figure out who Leahy's referring to.

Fight! Fight! Fight!: Wilbon looks like a scrapper, and based on the photo on the back of the book...well, Leahy does not. But apparently, all Leahy would have to do is talk trash about Jordan, and Wilbon would start to get huffy and tear up, giving Leahy the opening to land a knock-out punch.

Winner: Leahy


Tom Shales vs. Lisa de Moraes

Why: At any major metropolitan newspaper, there's only room for one sarcastic television writer who often seems to hate television.

Fight! Fight! Fight!: I've enjoyed both writers for years, but for different reasons. On one hand, you have Shales, with his more cerebral analysis of TV, while still maintaining a biting wit. I loved it when he used to eviscerate Kathie Lee Gifford's annual Christmas special each year. On the other hand, de Moraes, also witty as hell, seems more in tune with modern pop culture, and possesses a populist affinity for shows that Shales would likely turn his nose up at.

Neither one strikes me as being especially good in a fight, and honestly, they seem to have a great deal of respect for each other, and likely wouldn't be interested in beating each other up in the first place. But if they were to fight, I think you have to give the edge to Shales, as given his age, he's more likely to be familiar with Andy Kaufman's inter-gender wrestling days.

Winner: Shales

George Will vs. Charles Krauthammer

Why: When it comes to foreign policy, Will is a smart, insightful conservative, capable of acknowledging--and indeed, criticizing--neoconservative ideology when he thinks it's gone too far astray. Krauthammer is just a neoconservative. They may get along on the surface, but I'll bet each has a seething undercurrent of disrespect for the other.

Fight! Fight! Fight!: As both men circle one another, fists raised, Krauthammer stops, holds up his hands, and says he's open to a diplomatic resolution. Will lets his guard down for a moment, at which point Krauthammer goes all shock and awe on him. He then spends the next several years occupying Will's office, saying he can't leave until all ground objectives have been achieved. No one at the Post knows what this means, but they don't want to be added to Krauthammer's axis of evil, so they let it go.

Winner: Krauthammer


Emily Yoffe vs. Monica Hesse

Why: Surely, Emily "Dear Prudence" Yoffe and Monica "The Web Hostess" Hesse constantly snipe at each other about who has the worst nickname. Or if they don't, they should.

Fight! Fight! Fight!: Yoffe is older, and has probably been around the block a few times. Hesse is more web-savvy, and could probably find some kind of online jujitsu class or Krav Maga Facebook group or something. But frankly, you don't need to look good to be an advice columnist (although for 54, Yoffe is smoking hot), whereas to be a hostess, web or otherwise, you sort of do. So when Hesse makes a point to protect her face, Yoffe just lands a series of body blows until she goes down.

Winner: Yoffe


Bob Woodward vs. Dana Milbank

Why: Both are Yale grads, and both could be said to be the face of the Post's political desk during their respective tenures. But the similarities pretty much end there. Woodward helped uncover the most infamous conspiracy in American political history, and brought down a corrupt president. Milbank called Nico Pitney a dick for being a good journalist, then called Hillary Clinton a bitch for being a good politician, which resulted in the cancellation of his Post web feature and him being forced to sheepishly apologize.

Fight! Fight! Fight!: Deciding to avoid the fight altogether, Milbank cowers under his desk until Woodward is gone. Just to be safe, he stays there until everyone else, including the nighttime cleaning staff, have also left.

Winner: Woodward.

My First Blog (Part 1)

While going through a box of childhood crap recently, I found this old composition book. At first, I thought it was maybe the comic book I'd created as a kid, The Adventures of Rabbit Man. See, he was a rabbit who was also a superhero. You might be thinking that Rabbit Man sounds an awful lot like Captain Carrot, but you'd be wrong, as Rabbit Man worked alone, didn't wear a cape, and he carried nunchucks. If anyone with DC or Marvel or Hollywood would like to get in touch with me about acquiring the rights to Rabbit Man, my email address is on the right.

But instead, it turned out to be a journal that I was assigned to keep back in 1987, when I was in elementary school. I'd forgotten all about it, and until this week, it hadn't been opened in over 20 years.

Anyway, I figured that since these were sort of my earliest blog posts, why not republish them here over the next few weeks? Everything is reprinted verbatim, including any and all spelling and grammatical errors, followed a few comments from the adult me.

Sept. 9, '87

Today in my rush downstairs, I slipped an hurt my leg. I now have a limp which I hope won't last long.

When I read this, I suddenly had a flashback to the day that happened. I was running to make the bus, slid on the carpet, fell about eight steps, and landed directly on my knee. It hurt like hell. I can't recall if I at least made an attempt to stay home from school because of it, but if I did, my mom obviously wasn't buying it.

Sept. 10, '87

Yesterday I had to do my homework in pen because there was no pencil in the house.

Evidently, when my teacher assigned us these journals, "Be interesting" wasn't part of the assignment. I can't even imagine what a living hell it must have been for her to have to read through this crap every week when we turned them in.

I am nostalgic for the days when my biggest problem in life was not being able to find a pencil, though.

Sept. 11, '87

A gain I have aquierd a limp. This time by falling off two chairs which were to be a couch.

Two chairs which were to be...I have no idea what the fuck this kid is talking about. I guess I was probably messing around with chairs and sofa cushions, but to what end, I couldn't tell you. Possibly to build a fort. Or some kind of modern art piece. I don't know. All things being equal, I think I made a valiant effort at spelling "acquired," but I can't defend turning "again" into two words. Also, if I'd known what was going to happen exactly 14 years later, I probably wouldn't have thought a stupid limp was such a big deal.

Actually, yeah, I probably would have. As you can see, I was a really whiny kid. The loss of 3,000 lives in a terrorist attack couldn't possibly compare to my having a slight limp.

Sept. 14, '87

Today is not my day. I'm in a bad mood my feet hurt and I'm not feeling good.

I'm growing increasingly depressed reading these. Did I have anything good going on in my life as a kid? I mean, I do have happy childhood memories. Like the time my family and I went to Universal Studios out in Los Angeles, and I met David Hasselhoff! See, my step-brother Dudley and I snuck onto the set of Knight Rider, and...

Oh, wait. That was an episode of Diff'rent Strokes. Never mind. Maybe my childhood really was all hurt feet and not being able to find pencils.

Sept. 16, '87

Last night I went to see the constitution and waited in line for 4 hours.

September 17, 1987 was the bicentennial of the signing of the Constitution, and naturally, the National Archives made a big deal about it that whole week. This was not long after my family moved to the area, and my parents were still all, "Yay, D.C.! Educational opportunities abound!", so they thought it would be a good idea to take me there. The problem was, half of D.C. had the same idea. It's possible the "4 hours" part was a slight exaggeration on my part, but it was a really long line, and a completely miserable experience, and once we finally got inside, the guards were rushing everyone through so quickly, I barely even got to see the Constitution.

Of course, now I can go down to the Archives and be in and out in three minutes. Suck on that, mom and dad.

Sept. 17, '87

The Constitution is an important part of our history. And even though thanks to the Constitution, I had to stand in line for four and a half hours, I guess it is an important document. And I also suppose if it wasen't for the Constitution, we wouldn't be the country we are.

Odd. I start off by saying the Constitution is an important part of our history, but I seem to waver on whether or not it's even an important document. Also, note how I attempt to sum everything up at the end in an effort to sound as if I put some real thought into this.

I do like how even while I was praising the Constitution, I still found a way to work in some passive aggressive bitching about having to stand in line. This is the first time I actually recognize a bit of myself in these entries.

Sept. 22, 1987

Yesterday Beth inflicted a lot of pain on my little finger. Today it feels worse because I woke up sleeping on it. I hope it feels better tomorrow.

Beth was my then-best friend's older sister. The last time I'd had a friend with an older sister before moving to D.C., she thought it was fun to hold me down and try and kiss me. Beth just liked bending back my fingers and giving me Indian burns. So that was kind of an unpleasant change of pace. She was actually pretty cool for the most part, especially given how much her brother and I used to pester her, but occasionally she'd physically take out her teenage angst on us. She had a lot of angst, too.

Well, that's it for this installment of My First Blog. Come back next week for what will undoubtedly be more scintillating thoughts from a dull, hypochondriac child. (Ow, I just hurt my leg. Actually, I guess very little's changed in 22 years.)

The emotional lows and highs of the Target toy aisle

I don't buy or collect action figures, but I do enjoy keeping up with what's going on with them, both to maintain my geek cred and be able to look at them and smugly think, "Action figures were so much better back in the day. Kids today suck."

Given that you can no longer just stroll into a KB Toys or K&K Toys at the mall, the only chance I really get to look at action figures these days is the toy section at Target. Oddly enough, I very rarely actually see kids there. It's usually me and some guy who looks like he's waiting for the chance to lure some unsuspecting child out to his van.

Over the weekend, I was at Target. I checked out the Avatar figures, looked at the awful G.I. Joe figures left over from the summer and smugly thought how much better action figures were when back in the day, and that kids today suck. And then, to my horror, I saw this:

I can't say for certain this will be the worst-selling toy pack in the history of the world, but it damn well should be.

Back in the 70s, I guess someone at Hanna-Barbera noticed that everyone on Super Friends was white, and decided to do something about that. I'm not sure if this realization took the form of, "Hey, let's try and make the show more multicultural because it's the right thing to do!" or "Hey, I'll bet if we added a few token minority superheroes, we can trick more black and Asian kids into watching!" Probably the latter, but you never know.

Regardless, the theretofore lily-white line-up of Superman, Wonder Woman, Batman, Robin, and Aquaman, was soon augmented by the arrival of such heavy hitters as...Apache Chief! Samurai! Black Vulcan! El Dorado!

Who? Exactly.

No one had ever heard of them before, as they were created specifically for the TV show. I'm pretty sure the only one who ever actually contributed anything to the team was Apache Chief. Everyone else was just there to ease the Super Friends' liberal guilt. They got to tell their families and friends they were in the Super Friends, and the Super Friends avoided a discrimination lawsuit from the ACLU. So it worked out well for everyone.

According to Wikipedia, Samurai appeared in 16 episodes of the show, and only had lines in six of them. I guarantee most of those lines were something like, "Superman's right!" or "I'm trapped! Help!"

Also from Wikipedia: "In the final incarnation of the series, The Super Powers Team: Galactic Guardians, [Black Vulcan] was replaced with Cyborg, another black superhero..." I guess the Super Friends charter said the team could only have one at a time.

The less said about their costumes, the better. Forget having to fight alongside them if you were a fellow Super Friend; try to imagine even just having a conversation with those guys, as they stand there with no pants, like it's perfectly normal. Fucking pervs. El Dorado wore pants, but no shirt. There was something wrong with people who designed superhero costumes back then.

So, yeah, terrible choice of characters to be made into toys. But all was not lost! Because right below those plastic abominations, was this:

An Amanda Waller action figure?!?! There's just something so good and decent and awesome about that, it made my entire weekend. Mattel can release all the pantsless superhero action figures they want, and they're still aces in my book. I didn't buy it, but if I do ever buy an action figure again, this will be the one.

As an added bonus, the fact that it comes packaged with a Batman figure, means people can have fun recreating this classic story:

Week Eight NFL Picks

7-6 last week; 51-52 for the season

Denver at Baltimore (-3.5): Baltimore

Houston at Buffalo (+3.5): Houston

Cleveland at Chicago (-13.5): Chicago

Seattle at Dallas (-9.5): Dallas

Miami at New York Jets (-3.5): New York

San Francisco at Indianapolis (-13): Indianapolis

New York Giants at Philadelphia (+1): Philadelphia

St. Louis at Detroit (-4): Detroit

Oakland at San Diego (-16.5): San Diego

Jacksonville at Tennessee (-3): Tennessee

Minnesota at Green Bay (-3): Minnesota

Carolina at Arizona (-10): Arizona

Atlanta at New Orleans (-11): New Orleans

Rocking with Rockwell

It's still Halloween for a few more minutes, so I got this in on time.

The video for Somebody's Watching Me scared the shit out of me when I was about 8 or 9. Earlier tonight, I was telling someone about it, and how the song is the one used in those annoying Geico ads with the stack of money with the googly eyes, and I just got a blank look. So for anyone else culturally unaware--or, er, under the age of 25, who have never heard of Rockwell, or possibly even music videos--here is a true classic.

Fun fact: Back when VH1 would not only run videos, but videos aimed primarily at people in their 30s and 40s--Phil Collins, Michael Bolton, and Rod Stewart used to be in heavy rotation--they'd air a "Scariest Videos of All Time" special each Halloween. I want to say this was the number two video, right behind Thriller, but I can't be sure. The only other ones I recall from the list were Ray Parker Jr.'s Ghostbusters (which wasn't scary) and The Jackson's Torture (which was even scarier than Somebody's Watching Me, but the song sucked).

Panel of the Week

From Blackest Night #4: