Sweet serenity in the wisdom projected via the title of the post. David Allan Coe likes a melody, and I like wordplay. Miley Cyrus came in like a wrecking ball and will go out like a bawling wreck. The Devil’s Concert ain’t radio-friendly. March into March, mates, what’s the harm? Can’t spell ‘March’ without ‘harm’ … give me a reason, Fiery Eye of Faust, give me a reason …
Meandering, plotless introduction…check. Now I shall rail against retconning. I am motivated by last night’s Quick Chek Extreme Caffeine Coffee Cavalcade. *AHEM* It was wintertime in Nashville down on Music City road… oops. Party foul. Thought I was Kris Kristofferson again. Outlaw Country Delusionary Episode…check.
When your mythology steals your Mitsubishi Galant for a joyride to the local Sonic, I’d wager your tolerance for such insurrection to be tested to its most strenuous degrees. Then I’d retract that wager (send my chit to your collections bureau) when I realize the folly of my impulse: you’re the weaver of this intricate atlas of dimension and bailiwick, you’re the factory of unsalted nuts who breathed life into your Judas Priest-howlin’ Daemon, and you’re the Meddling Kid who distributed the rumblings upon the otherwise placid atmosphere. You’re the WRITER, you’re the EDITOR, you’re the CREATIVE FORCE. When you don’t like what you’ve done, you erase. Erase too much, Supergirl’s dead. Yikes. Erase some more, Hal Jordan’s just DDT’d the Multiverse. Jeepers, a little more erasin’ and Earth-One goes to back of the Netflix queue. YOU CAN’T STOP YOURSELF! NOW EVERYONE HAS A POWER RING!
Retconning, revamping, “revolutionizing” in the comic book business, by any other name, creates frustration and confusion with each & every bungfu stagger. Chaos doesn’t organize, and the crafty reader doesn’t capitulate. Wake tomorrow and look through your window at the world; photograph the scenery, as the Creative Forces will surely disapprove of green grass & blue skies. Wake the day next and gaze upon that Blue Devil/Omega Men team-up that people a-feared nearly 30 years ago.
What You Know is Easily Bruised. Bubble Wrap and Swordplay Doesn’t Keep the Wolves Away. Retcon if Ye Feel the Urge Compels, But the Repercussions Add a Stale Doughnut to the Great Walls of Hell. *sigh* This wait for the second “ABCs of Death” movie is gonna squeeze the chemicals from my scratchpad, daddy-o. I originally intended to write a post defining my reaction to the trailers for “Guardians of the Galaxy” riding Ghost Rider-style ’round the internet, but…’stead, ya get Kentucky Jay’s Stroll Through the Pasture of Mahoroba. Shake it like a Polaroid picture.
Finally, a Movie I’d Like to See:
The Dependables – When the corpses of Bea Arthur, Estelle Getty, and Rue McClanahan lead a zombie uprising, an energy-drink infused and interminably pissed-off Betty White enlists the aid of her closest friends (Carol Burnett, Charlotte Rae, Cloris Leachman, Linda Lavin, Vicki Lawrence, and Mary Tyler Moore) to battle the undead.