Children are a fickle animal. If you do something they deem worthy such as liberate a swing from where it sits wrapped around the support pole, you're a hero. You literally hear applause and jubilant yells exalt you. We'll just leave out my private motivation for freeing the swing was so my daughter, who's been having a rough time asserting herself when it comes to playground hierarchy, could finally get a turn on her own turf.
So, of course the bigger kids ran up yelling "Yay!" and grabbed it from me (where I then had a difficult time asserting to them that it should be my daughter's turn. Some role model.). Clearly they had been trying to get the swing down all morning, so I let them have it, literally. I gave them the swing without a word.
The hardest part for my somewhat sensitive girl is forcing her way in and asserting her right to ride. And I don't want to do this for her. I'd just like to be there to encourage her that doing so is OK, to boost her confidence, and to maybe stop trouble if someone gets too nasty about it. Instead, we both end up waiting. Hoping for a chance to get her in there. Sadly, I remember bring in her very shoes when I was young, and it doesn't get much easier as an adult if you don't address it and learn self-confidence and realize you have the same rights and freedoms as everyone else - up to and including racing to claim the swing before some poor wallflower can get there.
That's the problem with being "sensitive", you want other people to be happy. Sometimes so they'll like you. Sometimes because it feels right. Sometimes just to martyr yourself. But in the end you are never really content, and you haven't made the world a better place you've just become a vacuum in space to be filled by other people's needs.
The irony is as soon as we secure her a spot and get her seated - beating out a few other newcomers who would surely have grabbed it otherwise - two, probably 8-year-old children next, to us collided, one, a girl, hurrying past and getting slammed to the ground by the other, a boy. The girl screamed, more in anger than pain, and punched the boy hard in the shoulder. He muttered an apology, clearly confused as to how he'd actually hurt her. I intervened to tell her that regardless of the problem we don't hit others, but she began screaming that he hit her on purpose. I told her that he could not have meant to hurt her and that he'd apologized. To which she screamed that he didn't mean it. And then, like a good adult, I dropped some good adult science: "How do we know if someone means something or not" I asked? "We just have to trust that since he said he was sorry he meant it." That was deep of me, and of course she was stumped. Ugh, sorry kid.
I asked her if she was OK and where she was hurt. She pointed to her leg and her arm, and I asked her if she wanted to see a teacher. She said she did so I looked around and couldn't find anyone even remotely aware of anything other than their own child. Certainly no teachers. In the end, another dad showed up and said pretty much exactly what I had, ignoring me completely, until one of the girl's classmates showed up and helped her hobble off to class.
What could I have done differently? I looked for a teacher, there weren't any.. I couldn't leave my 3 year-old any my 5-month-old sitting there while I escorted the mildly wounded girl to the office. And where were the girl's parents? I recognized her from earlier when a mom who recognized her asked who was watching her and she said no one, that she'd been dropped off while her mom went to work. Times are tough but it sucks being left alone at the playground when you're that age, and for god knows how long.
Well, I can't say that I left the greatest impression on my daughter. I tried to get her a swing, and sort of failed, twice. I tried to help a couple of kids work out their problems only to be usurped by another dad. Thankfully, the bell rang so I could get my girl to class and leave so I could dwell on this situation for the rest of the day.
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
Monday, September 13, 2010
Sunday, September 12, 2010
More Marx Phehistoric toys on Ebay
Holy wow, here's some more dinosaurs. This time you can actually by this set (if you've got a spare $395)!
ebay: Vintage Marx Prehistoric Playset 60 pcs Original Box
According to the auction photos this is the Series 1000, no. 3390 (created in 1957) Prehistoric Times Play Set by Louis Marx and Co Inc. This 50s set is very rare. It would be great if it was in perfect condition but it isn't quite. There's some minor damage, and no mention of whether the set is actually complete - though it looks to be. There's even a pamphlet, and the original box. (OK, I've decided that I now want this!).
Here's some photos from the auction. I hope this helps them sell it or better yet convinces me to buy it for myself!
ebay: Vintage Marx Prehistoric Playset 60 pcs Original Box
According to the auction photos this is the Series 1000, no. 3390 (created in 1957) Prehistoric Times Play Set by Louis Marx and Co Inc. This 50s set is very rare. It would be great if it was in perfect condition but it isn't quite. There's some minor damage, and no mention of whether the set is actually complete - though it looks to be. There's even a pamphlet, and the original box. (OK, I've decided that I now want this!).
Here's some photos from the auction. I hope this helps them sell it or better yet convinces me to buy it for myself!
Gone in 60 Seconds! or Another Mondo Print Bites the Dust
I don't know how big their mailing list is or how much disposable income Mondotees.com readers have but Jesus H. Criminy this stuff goes quick. I received an email from them the other day stating the new print was up for sale and by the time I was able to check it out 20 minutes later this print was sold out. And this is for a relatively unknown artist (Shan Jiang of Shanghai), and a run of 410 posters.
Check out the detail and more info here: mondo dawn of tatooine
Saturday, September 4, 2010
Marx Prehistoric Playset dinosaur love
If you're like me and were lucky enough to have been given an awesome sets of dinos, you probably are also like me in that you regret that someone, someone probably very close to you, someone you will probably never forgive, unwittingly gave them away. Or worse.
Now that I have kids of my own, I want to make sure they get to experience the same bliss I did when I opened this one Christmas morning.
And found this inside.
Looking at this beautifully sculpted set I am crestfallen. Heartbroken that I now longer have this. If anything thus far in my life has inspired me to build that time machine I've been talking about this is it. "Stop Grandma, I will want those when I'm old, well...old-er". Then I'll probably have to risk it all to slap my 20-something-ish (and then my 30-something-ish) self around to stop myself from throwing them away when consolidating for a move, or because a hot girl is coming over. I mean we all know how risky time travel what with the whole spacetime-continuum paradox thingy, but believe me it's wayyyy worth it. This set is awesome! It even has temporal incongruities like cavemen.
Well, these guys [ dinosaur-toys-collectors-guide.com ] know all time travel and spacetime and things like that, and if they don't they do sure know a lot about dinosaurs and toy dinosaurs. They've practically made a science out of toy dinosaur hunting that would be the envy of some paleontologists (which is funny when you know how many of the Marx Dinosaurs have actually been dug up from the ground by some of these guys).And if you don't have any luck time traveling to get back your old set (like I intend to do) these guys [ www.collectorsquest.com ] can probably help you out. They've got tons of good stuff on all types of collectibles on their site.
Now that I have kids of my own, I want to make sure they get to experience the same bliss I did when I opened this one Christmas morning.
Well, these guys [ dinosaur-toys-collectors-guide.com ] know all time travel and spacetime and things like that, and if they don't they do sure know a lot about dinosaurs and toy dinosaurs. They've practically made a science out of toy dinosaur hunting that would be the envy of some paleontologists (which is funny when you know how many of the Marx Dinosaurs have actually been dug up from the ground by some of these guys).And if you don't have any luck time traveling to get back your old set (like I intend to do) these guys [ www.collectorsquest.com ] can probably help you out. They've got tons of good stuff on all types of collectibles on their site.
MondoTees do a First Contact
Over at MondoTees they've got the truly gnarliest prints and shirts. So gnarly that you're not likely to get one because stuff like this (by Ken Taylor) sells out in minutes.
Simply amazing. They did a glow in the dark variant as well. No, don't bother. They're long gone. But go check them out anyway. [ Mondo ]
This weekend they're having a shirt sale too. 30% Off. But hurry, I already picked up three myself. The designs, as I've said, are gnarly.
Simply amazing. They did a glow in the dark variant as well. No, don't bother. They're long gone. But go check them out anyway. [ Mondo ]
This weekend they're having a shirt sale too. 30% Off. But hurry, I already picked up three myself. The designs, as I've said, are gnarly.
Friday, September 3, 2010
Life in the Black Hole/The Real Catwoman appears!
When I was but a youngster, living in a small scrubby community in Northern California, there was a total dearth of culture. This was before industry had figured out how to market culture so effectively. Everything, both new and old was run down, greasy, flat, and overgrown with dried weeds. I have to say though, that at 16 you rarely appreciate the beauty of trees, so maybe there was some life there. I remember only the concrete and the dirt.
Cigarettes, occasional drugs, alcohol, and music was about the only escape available to us. Skateboards, wide planks with soft fat wheels, were the only sport we engaged in and our only mode of transportation. Maybe you saw us - shirtsleeves cut off, pants worn out, and sneakers or boots in their second or third generation of being handed down. If you did see us you probably yelled something, threw stones, or even got up in our face. I don't blame you. You were looking for escape too. And after all, we scared you. Our scrawny, home-tattooed, funny-haired skateboarding selves clearly scared the hell out of you. That I do blame you for. You should have been so much bigger than that.
In this expanding urban sinkhole of a community we didn't have a lot of people to look up to. I didn't have parents to look after me, and my friends families were either splintered or in a perpetual state of breakdown and dysfunction. And we didn't have heroes. Reagan was a joke. Sports were wasted weekends in front of the television. Police? Fireman? Soldiers? They were some of our primary antagonists. But what we did have was music. The rock god in a stadium phenomenon was a dismal joke by this point and the radio was pure top 40 bilge. ELO. Skynnrd. Oldies. I could go on. One of us in our group, and it wasn't me, discovered punk rock. I don't know how they did it, probably like all good things from a friend of a friend - cassette tapes and gig fliers were handed around like cigarettes or bad jokes.
I have to say honestly that discovering punk was the single best thing that had happened to my life to that point. All of sudden there were people out there who knew exactly what we had all been talking about; what we'd been missing, and they put it to music. Frequently without a chorus or much talent, but it worked. It delivered hope and respite from the plodding everydayness of everyday. It liberated our minds from our plight, and also reinforced the misery and the boredom. They weren't like rock stars, they were peers. They were doing it for us, and for themselves, and for the sheer hell of it, and it encouraged multitudes of others to do the same, to bring out their stories of failure and disgust.
It turned out we had other comrades as well, numerous across the country and throughout the world. As word of mouth spread, so did your record collection grow and thus your world view expand. I don't think it happens this way anymore. You're grown in a Petri dish of world culture from the moment you're born. It comes from everywhere and permeates everything. Thank you TV. Thank you internet. Still, I don't know if we're better off.
Maybe is some cases. Yesterday, for instance, I accidentally discovered a person, via the internet, that I had only seen in pictures when I was a teenager. Someone who I'd admired for her fashion sense and great looks, and envied for her luck at being part of the UK's early punk scene. I really knew little about her other than that. There weren't any articles written about her and as far as I know she wanted it that way. She was rumored to have to disappeared right around the time the Sex Pistols broke up - which for us was like space travel since we only really ever saw the light of the distant Sex Pistols after they were a few years burned up and gone. Still, we we enjoyed them as if they continued to be a major contributor to the punk scene.
But Soo Catwoman, as she was called, is still around. Living her life. Albeit a little more publicly as far as I can see. She has a website http://www.soocatwoman.com/, a twitter account http://twitter.com/SooCatwoman, and is indeed on facebook as well here And she has, at least at some point, had a myspace account too. I mean, I'm not outing her or anything. She's out there and in the world and she doesn't seem to have any problem with people appreciating her for her past roll in the punk scene. I for one am stoked, and a bit brain bent by the whole idea.
She's had people using her image without permission or recompense for years and now she's taking it back and selling her own t-shirts from her site. If your so inclined do her a favor and pick one up from her so the money goes to the right person. I plan to. She's one of the few punks that neither burned out nor faded away. I'm happy for her.
Cigarettes, occasional drugs, alcohol, and music was about the only escape available to us. Skateboards, wide planks with soft fat wheels, were the only sport we engaged in and our only mode of transportation. Maybe you saw us - shirtsleeves cut off, pants worn out, and sneakers or boots in their second or third generation of being handed down. If you did see us you probably yelled something, threw stones, or even got up in our face. I don't blame you. You were looking for escape too. And after all, we scared you. Our scrawny, home-tattooed, funny-haired skateboarding selves clearly scared the hell out of you. That I do blame you for. You should have been so much bigger than that.
In this expanding urban sinkhole of a community we didn't have a lot of people to look up to. I didn't have parents to look after me, and my friends families were either splintered or in a perpetual state of breakdown and dysfunction. And we didn't have heroes. Reagan was a joke. Sports were wasted weekends in front of the television. Police? Fireman? Soldiers? They were some of our primary antagonists. But what we did have was music. The rock god in a stadium phenomenon was a dismal joke by this point and the radio was pure top 40 bilge. ELO. Skynnrd. Oldies. I could go on. One of us in our group, and it wasn't me, discovered punk rock. I don't know how they did it, probably like all good things from a friend of a friend - cassette tapes and gig fliers were handed around like cigarettes or bad jokes.
I have to say honestly that discovering punk was the single best thing that had happened to my life to that point. All of sudden there were people out there who knew exactly what we had all been talking about; what we'd been missing, and they put it to music. Frequently without a chorus or much talent, but it worked. It delivered hope and respite from the plodding everydayness of everyday. It liberated our minds from our plight, and also reinforced the misery and the boredom. They weren't like rock stars, they were peers. They were doing it for us, and for themselves, and for the sheer hell of it, and it encouraged multitudes of others to do the same, to bring out their stories of failure and disgust.
It turned out we had other comrades as well, numerous across the country and throughout the world. As word of mouth spread, so did your record collection grow and thus your world view expand. I don't think it happens this way anymore. You're grown in a Petri dish of world culture from the moment you're born. It comes from everywhere and permeates everything. Thank you TV. Thank you internet. Still, I don't know if we're better off.
Maybe is some cases. Yesterday, for instance, I accidentally discovered a person, via the internet, that I had only seen in pictures when I was a teenager. Someone who I'd admired for her fashion sense and great looks, and envied for her luck at being part of the UK's early punk scene. I really knew little about her other than that. There weren't any articles written about her and as far as I know she wanted it that way. She was rumored to have to disappeared right around the time the Sex Pistols broke up - which for us was like space travel since we only really ever saw the light of the distant Sex Pistols after they were a few years burned up and gone. Still, we we enjoyed them as if they continued to be a major contributor to the punk scene.
But Soo Catwoman, as she was called, is still around. Living her life. Albeit a little more publicly as far as I can see. She has a website http://www.soocatwoman.com/, a twitter account http://twitter.com/SooCatwoman, and is indeed on facebook as well here And she has, at least at some point, had a myspace account too. I mean, I'm not outing her or anything. She's out there and in the world and she doesn't seem to have any problem with people appreciating her for her past roll in the punk scene. I for one am stoked, and a bit brain bent by the whole idea.
She's had people using her image without permission or recompense for years and now she's taking it back and selling her own t-shirts from her site. If your so inclined do her a favor and pick one up from her so the money goes to the right person. I plan to. She's one of the few punks that neither burned out nor faded away. I'm happy for her.
TeeFury's got another great 9$ Star Wars shirt! Today only!
The Limited Edition Cheap T-Shirt, Gone in 24hours! | TeeFury
You can't go wrong with a cheap, great quality, Star Wars, Full Metal Jacket mash-up t-shirt!
Thursday, September 2, 2010
Leave Kate Moss alone!
Just a small point about culture of celebrity. Yes, we love them. Yes, we hate them. But do we really need to pay these fool paparazzi to hunt them and their poor effing kids? C'mon, this is ridiculous. Who out there cares this much about Kate Moss, Angelina Jolie, Mel Gibson or whoever? I don't know anyone who even pays attention to this world.
And Hollywood.tv, whoever you are who brings us this travesty you ought to have your rights revoked. The fact that you splash your logo all over this tripe just tells me you're way too proud of yourselves. I mean, the zoom on Kate's tattoo really says it all. You're trash.
I submit that even without the "we're just doing our job" scumbag paparazzi we'd have all the photos we'd ever need of any celebrity from random folks on the street to their managers/agents. For free. And the strobing? That makes me want to just rampage.
Just got my DC Direct Watchmen Comedian 1:6 scale figure in the mail and I'm really impressed - partly because it was only $19.99 on Amazon, and partly because it's just good toy: heavy, solid, well-designed, great outfit, and the sculpt looks about as good as one can ask for.
On Amazon the list price is $125, and indeed the box says 124.99 (I think.I already chucked it. I'm a player not a saver) but I doubt anyone ever asked that much for it except maybe on Watchmen opening weekend when no one knew just how OK this movie really was. But the figure. Totally sweet. And I don't use that term often for toys. Of course the Hot Toys version is $160 and is so real looking you could use it as a stand in on Watchmen II.
Just amazing. But so far as yet I cannot justify springing for that much for a toy. Now if it was between the DC Direct at $125 and the Hot Toys version there'd be no debate.
Next toy in the mailbox should be BAF Galactus' right leg. Let's hope I don't get scammed again like I did when I got the one with two left legs from a lousy eBay transaction.
Idea for the day: Third Party. A company that makes your purchases for you on eBay, looks everything over and determines whether or not you'd be an idiot to pay for the junk you're likely to get on eBay. Galactus with two left legs. That's one of my worst so far. Live and learn.
On Amazon the list price is $125, and indeed the box says 124.99 (I think.I already chucked it. I'm a player not a saver) but I doubt anyone ever asked that much for it except maybe on Watchmen opening weekend when no one knew just how OK this movie really was. But the figure. Totally sweet. And I don't use that term often for toys. Of course the Hot Toys version is $160 and is so real looking you could use it as a stand in on Watchmen II.
Just amazing. But so far as yet I cannot justify springing for that much for a toy. Now if it was between the DC Direct at $125 and the Hot Toys version there'd be no debate.
Next toy in the mailbox should be BAF Galactus' right leg. Let's hope I don't get scammed again like I did when I got the one with two left legs from a lousy eBay transaction.
Idea for the day: Third Party. A company that makes your purchases for you on eBay, looks everything over and determines whether or not you'd be an idiot to pay for the junk you're likely to get on eBay. Galactus with two left legs. That's one of my worst so far. Live and learn.
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
Martin Millar's Curse of the Wolf Girl
Martin Millar's Curse of the Wolf Girl is turning out to be as good of a read as Lonely Werewolf Girl - which try as I might I cannot get any of my friends to pick up. I don't know if they think the genre is just played-out, or if they don't trust my judgment, or if they just don't like books. But so far, I'm the only one I know who has read them and that's troubling because if we don't support great authors, well, the terrorists have won haven't they?
What makes them so great? A strong female protagonist in Kalix the "wolf girl", an incredibly rich environment, a wealth of fantastic otherworldly figures - possibly created purely from the mind of the author, a multi-layered storyline, and the author's exceptional knack for dialog.
I can't get enough of Kalix, really. She's young, scruffy, angry, melancholy, and utterly savage in a fight. She's an unrepentant killer too, but you can't fault her for it she's a fucking werewolf! Have I said too much?
And the other characters are just as distinctive. From Kalix's all-too-average flatmates, to various volatile royalty of the supernatural realm, to the family members who either want to kill her for her transgressions or are inexplicably drawn to her...the entire cast is unique and memorable.
I'm also sitting on copies of The Good Fairies of New York and Suzy, Led Zeppelin, and Me which I plan on reading after I finish Curse of Wolf Girl.
Categories.
I'm not so much a geek, nerd, fanboy or otaku or anything so specific. I'd probably have to categorize myself, if I was forced to, as more of a dork (if I was being disparaging) or just a normal person with an unhealthy interest in pop culture (if I was trying to get a job at a comic book store).
In other words, I can't commit to loving any one thing so ferociously that I have to know all about it, collect everything I find on the subject, or even really discuss it much with anyone. I envy those who can and do. But I remain on the fringe of you all I guess, people of the world. Too much of a child to grow up and get rid of my toys, comics, games, etc., too much of a dork to do anything but keep on jumping from one interest to another.
(photo unrelated)
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)