Marvel, 2012 and the End of the World

Actors Assemble!

As X-Men Origins: Wolverine is looking to be possibly the most flacid of the X-Films thus far (and I’m going strictly on critic reviews, as I’ve not yet seen it), Marvel Studios is going to need some big-time blockbusters to resuscitate its movie product. With a total box office gross of $582, 030, 528, some $98.6 million of which on opening weekend, Iron Man was the last home run for the company. Punisher: War Zone pulled in meager $10, 086, 898 in its three weeks in theaters, and is still in plentiful abundance on the shelves of your local retail giants. Wolvie’s raged with a solid $35 million on opening day Friday, but I doubt it’ll catch up to the pace set by Tony Stark and his pals. I found all this delicious box office info from www.boxofficemojo.com, by the way.

Bamboozle? Are you serious?

Wait…No Doubt’s still a band? And they’re headlining one of the most popular summer music festivals in the United States? Along side such hard-rockin’, eardrum poppin’, beer swillin’, establishment buckin’ bands like Sum 41, Taking Back Sunday, The Get Up Kids, and New Found Glory? Even Fall Out Boy? FOR THREE WHOLE DAYS STARTING MAY 1 IN NEW JERSEY AT THE MEADOWLANDS!?

Where have all the BraveStarrs gone?

Eyes of a hawk, ears of a wolf...Marshall BraveStarr

I can’t take it. It’s Saturday morning, and there’s nothing on. There…is…nothing…ON! Sure, I could watch the Madden Football challenge or baseball highlights. I could even watch news programs, sitcom reruns, Rachael Ray, or pointless gameshows on Animal Planet with host Mario Lopez. I might even be able to bring myself to sit through the unimaginative animated chunder these bottom-line feeding networks so nauseatingly refer to as “cartoons.”

Totally worth the trip out here

  Okay, I’m not usually one for shameless plugs, but I’m not directly involved with this band, so I think I’m safe. This is local Youngstown jam band Jones For Revival doing their rendition of the Super Mario Bros. theme music. I found an assortment of their videos on YouTube, and I would recommend anyone check them out.

A Fond Farewell to John Madden

Since I started watching football some twenty-something years ago, much has changed in the NFL.  Los Angeles gained one team, only to lose two.  Instant replay came and went and came back again.  And the likes of Montana, Lott and LT have been replaced by Brady, Polamalu and…well, a different LT.  On the TV side, it’s been even crazier.  CBS lost the NFL to Fox, then got it back again from NBC, who then got it back from ABC/ESPN, who killed Monday Night Football. 

Practically the only constant was John Madden.  From the time he went from the Oakland Raider sideline to the broadcast booth, Madden has been as much the face of the NFL over the last thirty years as any player, coach or commissioner.  His very presence on a broadcast indicated that it was a big game and that something special was going to happen that day or night.  As was pointed out by Ray Ratto, his very name was enough to make a fledgling NFL game the most lucrative franchise in video game history.

Have you landed on your playoff beard yet?

My playoff beard is in full effect.

My absolute favorite tradition in any sport is the time-honored playoff beard grown by teams in the Stanley Cup playoffs.

Screw the octopus on the ice in Detroit. Screw the “Take Me Out to the Ballgame” in the 7th inning at Wrigley. Screw “God Bless America” during the Yankees game.*

*Please don’t strike me down for that comment Lord. Even you can admit it’s an awful song, right?

A good playoff beard conveys manliness and brotherhood like nothing else. And, that’s pretty much what hockey is all about.

But a playoff beard doesn’t have to be relegated to just the Stanley Cup, you can grow a beard for any occasion.

Like a bachelor party. Or a road trip. Or working on board a crab boat in Alaska. Or running from the law. Or before a big project is due. Or when your wife is pregnant. Or after a particularly nasty break-up with a girl. Or before an important business meeting. Wait, it doesn’t really work for that.

But the Stanley Cup is really the time when it’s most acceptable/awesome.

The real question: What kind of beard should you grow?

This Week’s Signs that America is Going to Hell: They Really Did Kill Freddy!

I’m a huge “Nightmare on Elm Street” fan.  Yes, the plots are hokey and the acting is some of the worst seen outside The Valley (that’s code in the entertainment industry for “where porn is made”), but they were just fun popcorn flicks with great death scenes.  But the real key to the movies was Freddy Krueger.  The scarred demon who terrorized Elm Street was so demented and funny that you couldn’t help loving the guy even though he was murdering around ten people a flick.  From the first “Nightmare”, where he caused a bed to eat Johnny Depp and spit back out enormous amounts of blood, to “Freddy vs. Jason”, where he fought Jason Voorhies to a draw, Freddy has been around for 25 years.  Throughout the whole time, he’s been played by Robert Englund, who has basically built a full career out of playing the slasher.

This ain’t your dad’s X-Force

X-Force: Now with more explosions!

If you haven’t yet jumped on the X-Force bandwagon, you’re about 13 issues behind. But it’s okay. I forgive you.

Before I talk about what’s been going on with this title, I want to take this opportunity to formally thank Craig Kyle and Christopher Yost for bringing me back to comic books. I stopped reading altogether after the Onslaught story arc and never even thought about getting back into it. Then, while leafing through a more recent issue of X-Men last year, I saw an advertisement for the newest incarnation of X-Force, featuring X-23, Wolfsbane, Warpath and their leader, Wolverine. My desire to read the thin, monthly tabloids was suddenly rekindled anew.

The promise of balls.

Forget baseball. Seriously, who cares about baseball anymore? America’s favorite pastime is couch surfing.

Baseball just doesn’t have the aggressive testosteroney charm of football, nor does it have the international charm of soccer, nor does it have the Amazonian giants of basketball, nor does it have the Canadians of hockey, but I’ll tell you three things it does have: Steroids, Japanese, and Promise (not margarine).

So many groundskeepers are working hard on this, the dawn of many Opening Days, to make sure the sold-out stadiums will be in premium condition. The popcorn is popped. The baseballs are stitched. The tobacco is chewed. The wave is practiced. The promise of opening day is so much more than being able to watch 9 innings of men running in diamonds and smacking a leather-covered rubber ball with a wooden stick. It’s the start of springtime and the promise of summertime. It’s a virginal, carefree childhood feeling that can only be satisfied by $6 hot dogs, $5 domestic drafts, $4 cotton sugar spindles. The parade of people-watching. The smell of freshly cut grass/astroturf. Oh, and there’s a game going on?

I could be disenchanted because I live in the town where Major League Baseball has been a joke since the mid ’90s. I live in the place where people are fans only because they have hometown allegiance, and the rest of us have just given up. Some people go to opening day because they hold out the hope that the boys in blue might actually be good this year, because we have a renovated stadium and a “young, promising” team.

Well, sorry, but I don’t think this is gonna happen. I’m really just in it for the hot dogs. Naturally.

This Week’s Signs that America is Going to Hell: Bailout Edition

Like most of America, I’ve spent the better part of the last three weekends watching the NCAA tournament, which included watching my bracket get dismantled by Villanova and me wondering why, of all the years that I don’t pick North Carolina to win it all, they look as dominant as they do.  Of course, it also meant a ton of commercials, since CBS has to somehow pay for the huge deal they signed to broadcast the tourney.  Nothing new or notable there.

What is interesting is the number of commercials that GM is running during the tournament.  They have pulled out every possible ad campaign for this tournament.  We’ve had an entire town donning rally caps.  We’ve had Saturn dealers talking about how they really do make cars people want (which their sales don’t show).  And we’ve had Howie Long making fun of a guy and his “man-step”.  Well, America, I hope you’re enjoying these commercials, because guess what?  You’re paying for them!