I'M SLOWLY GETTING BETTER!

Wow! I got some great convalescence presents! John gave me Leslie Carbaga's new Hot Stuff collection, and a neat anthology of "Tales of Suspense." Comics are the perfect thing to read when you're all doped up and drooling on yourself like I was. The problem is that stories like "Goom" made me laugh so much that I thought my staples would pop out. Mike gave me one of the very best Al Capp ads from the old Life magazine and some Smoking Loon Cabernet. I'll have to defer drinking that til I can take alcohol, but cabernet's my favorite wine, and the label is a stunner.

But that's not all! Check out this great video get well card (above) that Jim Arnold sent me. He made it just for me; I feel so flattered! It's the perfect gift for one filmmaker to give another...the gift of film.

By the way, I'm getting better and better, though I'm still flat on my back and experiencing problems most of the day. I may get the staples out on Friday. Today I actually had real creative thoughts, just like real people have. I was deliriously happy to have my mind working again. The house is a mess and there'll be a lot to clean up when this is over.

If I'm up to it, I may bring a sketchbook to the hospital with me and do caricatures of some of the patients on the floor where I used to be. I want to draw adults rather than kids, even though kids are a better audience. Kids are always getting clowns and movie stars and presents when they're in the hospital. They don't need me as much as the poor, neglected adults who just have to lie there and languish in daytime TV hell.

I have a much more benign view of the hospital nursing staff than I did when I wrote my blog about the hospital. Now that I can think again I can see the reasons for some of the procedures that seemed senseless to me before. I'd like to thank the staff who did such a good job for me. And my family...this would be the perfect place to thank them, if only they didn't insist that I keep silent about them on the blog.

Talking about thanks: THANKS TO ALL MY BLOG FRIENDS WHO WROTE IN TO WISH ME WELL! It was much, much appreciated!!!!!!!

P.S.: I just got this super-hilarious bebop dance from Steve Worth:

http:/www.latenightcoffeeshops.blogspot.com

Thanks, man!

DISGUISE: IF I WERE IN THE WITNESS PROTECTION PROGRAM

Most of these are pictures of the Israeli master of disguise, Dubi Preger. Looking at them makes me wonder, if I were running from the law, or were in a witness protection program, how would I make myself up to avoid being detected?



If this were the seventies or eighties the hip capitalist disguise might be a good option. The long hair covers the ears, making it unnecessary to change them, and people who wear hair like that frequently wear sunglasses, so covering the eyes wouldn't draw much attention.



A simple, easy to do change (above), requiring a life-style change, but one that looks easy to pull off.



Here's (above)another easy one, except it would require painfully sticking a stretcher up the nose every day. The grey beard would would work great with grey contact lenses.



Putty noses (above) change an appearance but you'd have to be an expert at applying them. Even Dubi had trouble pulling it off.



Here (above) Dubi makes up a couple of friends. This (above) is obviously too theatrical but it's not a bad disguise if it could be made to look more natural. The guy looks like someone who wouldn't stand out in a crowd, and the change seems to suit him. It's amazing how even a slight change in hairline can give someone a different look.



Of course you don't want your disguise (above) to be too obvious.



Here's (above) a vending machine disguise that would allow women to elude night-time pursuers. The amazing thing is that this machine fabric is meant to be worn under ordinary clothes, and to be forgotten about when not in use.



This is completely off-topic but I noticed it on a sidebar to Dubi's pictures. This (above) is a hundreds of years old mummy of a revered Japanese monk who, over a period of years, mummified himself while he was still alive. He ate lots of resins, injected them under his skin, bathed in them, etc.



Here's (above) a 5 minute YouTube clip showing all of Lon Chaney's numerous disguises. Beside the Phantom of the Opera I like the London After Midnight one the best.

THE BEST COMIC BOOK STORY EVER

In my opinion Marvel's greatest title of all time was not "Fantastic Four" or "Spiderman," but the comic that preceded them: "Tales of Suspense." No wimpy guys in tights here, but rather original stories of giant Kirby monsters on the rampage, different monsters in almost every issue.




By far the two best Tales of Suspense stories, the ones that towered over all the others, were "Goom" and it's sequel, "Googam, Son of Goom." I bought these off the newsstand when I was a kid and I remember thinking, "This is great! How are these guys ever going to top this?" Well, they didn't. Nobody did.

Thanks to a much-appreciated gift from John K, I was able to have Goom with me when I was recovering from surgery this week. Goom helped to keep my sanity during that ordeal. The only problem was that I found myself laughing so much that my stitches threatened to come apart. That's OK, Goom was worth it. If my scanner was up and running I'd scan it for you, but alas, I'm forced to rely on the inadequate images available on Google.




The story goes something like this: A young, idealistic New-Age scientist believes that hidden planets exist in the Solar System which we can't see. Being a trusting soul, he figures the creatures who live there must be incredibly nice guys who'd love to share their knowledge with us, so he sends radio signals to them revealing the exact location of Earth. Little does he know that he has just revealed our whereabouts to the biggest asshole in the universe: GOOM! Goom can't believe his luck! He immediately gets in his spaceship, which looks like a giant parakeet, and heads for the Earth to conquer it.




Goom lands in the wimpy scientist's backyard and begins threatening him and his wife. Goom rips up rose bushes, breaks things, and causes people to devolve into babies, all the while spouting lines like "For I am Goom,", "It is I, Goom!", Fools, it is useless to flee Goom!", "Cower before the all-powerful Goom!", "I can run faster than you, I'm taller than you, and I can out-think you!", and "Watch me rip apart this bicycle!" He gets the scientist to invite the world's leaders to his house for a peace conference, and when they show up, Goom threatens to eat them if they don't declare him the Supreme Ruler of Earth. I won't spoil it by revealing what happens next.





Goom is finally gotten rid of, but in the sequel we are informed that Goom left behind a giant baby in a cave. The baby is an even bigger jerk than his dad!



Of course a lot of this over-the-top dialogue style comes from "Brain from Planet Arous," one of the best and most cheesey sci-fi films of the 50s. This movie had a big influence on me, and when I first got a job in the animation industry I wanted to stick conquering brains into every story I worked on.

MY STAY IN THE HOSPITAL

I just spent five days in a hospital and the experience was indescribably ugly and nightmarish. I spent every minute of the five days waiting for the hour hand to make it's way twice around the clock, dreading the boredom and the extreme tortures to come. I had an extremely competent and experienced surgeon yet my advice to everyone reading this is, don't get major surgery if you can possibly avoid it. If you can't avoid it then have the surgery at the earliest possible time when the problem is relatively small.  I remind the reader that we don't live in Captain Kirk's time when Bones the doctor can cure everything with what amounts to a flashlight. Our time is more like the Civil war when whiskey and amputation were the remedies.  Surgery is still about all about violating your body, and causing pain. We're not really all that advanced.

Hospitals are crazy places. Everybody agrees that sleep is important to recovery, yet hospitals are one of the hardest places in the world to sleep.  The staff keeps waking you up to give you pain pills to put you to sleep. Since those pills cause constipation, and since constipation prevents you from getting rid of the gas that accompanies surgery, pain and sleeplessness are actually guaranteed by the system.

Some nurses are angels of mercy that really care what happens to you.  Others are martinets who will follow a regimen regardless of the consequences. I had to wear a catheter and I was constantly woken out of sleep by compulsive nurses who felt the need to "irrigate" it, i.e., put a big horse tranquilizing syringe into it and pump it to shake loose possible clots. The syringe causes searing, torturous pain by causing rapid change in the internal abdominal pressure. Once again, the justification for irrigation was that it would help patients sleep. After every irrigation I would stay awake for hours trying to shake off the horror of it all. 

Francis Ford Cuppola called Vietnam the first rock and roll war because rock was so frequently present, even during firefights. In the same way, we live in the first ( or maybe the second) era of daytime TV medicine. Daytime TV is the constant background rhythm of hospitals. You may be dying, and your doctor may be struggling to figure out how to medicate, but you both have one ear glued to the TV so you can find out what Dr. Phil said about Oprah, or who the movie stars dated last night.  Daytime TV gives me nausea. Does the world really need one more manicured, perky anchorwoman or one more executive-driven animated show with "tude?" 

Of course real conversations happen, even in hospitals. My roommate, was a police officer and we got to talking about crime.  I wondered out loud if criminals were really chronically unimaginative people, who just couldn't imagine the suffering they were causing to others. The policeman looked at me with stunned disbelief.  His answer:  "Real criminals aren't unimaginative. They're selfish and undisciplined. They want immediate satisfaction and would rather take the risk of killing a 7-11 clerk for 50 bucks than work a legal job for a day and make the same money risk-free. They live in an environment where crime is in the air and no other activity is admired or encouraged." I muttered something Hunter S. Thompson said about crime, and he brusquely made his apologies and closed the curtain securely around his bed. He just couldn't see the point in talking to a dilettante like myself who didn't know what he was talking about.  He never opened it again. I knew from peaking that he spent the time reading Field and Stream magazine.  

By the way, I'm a big booster of the police who, whatever their faults, risk their lives every day so the rest of us can be safe. I'm just not a fan of Field and Stream.

MILD POETRY READING

I'll be gone for a few days. I'm not sure when I'll be back...maybe as soon as Friday. See you then!

MY PREDICTIONS FOR THE FUTURE

In the future humanoid robots will be common. No need to worry; they will always be identifiable by their poor choice in clothes.


Chairs will be so comfortable that nobody will ever want to leave them. The chairs will sprout wheels or wings as the situation calls for, and will be able to take us anywhere we want to go.


Ultimately the chairs will become more intelligent than we are, and get rid of us. Their proximity to us will have heightened their sophistication relative to other machines, and if machines ever go to war with each other, my bet is the chairs will win. Chairs will be the real inheritors of the Earth. Perhaps some chairs, nostalgic for the old days, will carry floppy dead humans in their seats.


Of course animals will become smarter.


The future will be obsessed with putting glass domes on everything. Cities, beds, parakeets...everything will have a dome or a space helmet.


A few mavericks will drive cars without domes where people can actually talk to each other, but these people will be justly shunned by their peers.


A few brave souls may actually leave their chairs and walk around their living rooms. When it's necessary to travel, the whole living room will pick itself up and scurry around town.


Humans will become perfect physical specimens. They will be tiny though, in order to conserve energy.


Of course the future will be environmentally responsible. The shocking waste involved in each individual having his own soda straw will be eliminated. Community straws will proliferate.

 .......

Incidentally, the type size on the comments page got smaller all by itself, with no help from me. Anybody know how to fix that?

IRONING SHEETS

It must be the testosterone inhibiter I'm taking. I feel like doing posts on crocheting doilies! Man, hormones are really powerful! Oh well, here's another post on clothing. It's about ironing sheets, of all things! Pity me! I can't help myself!

OK, here's a question for you...is ironing worth it? I mean, why not buy wash and wear clothes and save the trouble? Me, I don't like ironing so I'll try to buy clothes that don't need it. Sheets though, that's another thing.


No good hotel offers anything but starched and ironed sheets, and it's easy to see why. Slipping into crisp, starched sheets is one of life's really intense pleasures. If the bed is well made, with everything pulled tight, that's even better. And if the sheets are sun-dried and smelling fresh and outdoorsy well, that's the best of all.


Hospitals starch and iron their sheets and change them frequently. That's obviously for for hygiene, but I'll bet there's another reason. Crispy sheets are cheery. They give a patient a feeling of being fussed over and cared about, and of being in competent hands. Surely that makes the effort worthwhile. And what goes for hospitals goes for homes.

You can buy steam sheet ironers for the home. Connair has one (above) that's less than a hundred bucks, but I've never seen it. There's another kind that they make for hotels and laundries. That one has rollers and probably costs more.

I get the feeling that someone who does this only once in a while would be better off ironing in the traditional way. If you don't deliberately iron in folds, it should go pretty fast. You iron while the sheets are still damp with a really hot steam iron. The starch is added in liquid form in the washing machine. Just be sure to get good quality, cotton sheets that aren't too light. Sun drying discolors some kinds, why I don't know.


Sigh! I need to get off these anti-testosterone pills! Only a few more days and I'm a free man!