Robin Hood by Phillip J. Hickman at Schiller Park

                              
Today, we take a trip into fantasy and onto a stage play. Robin Hood is one of my favorite childhood stories, and although it was well-acted here, I have to say I barely recognized the plot. What’s the first thing you think of when you think of Robin Hood? For me, it’s maybe a bow and arrow, and robbing from the rich to give to the poor. Well, he uses the bow once, and robs someone once, but spends the rest of the play proving his innocence, (WHY?) and arguing with MAID MARIAN, (Who is not here a damsel in distress.) about leadership.

In the end, when Robin Hood fights the Prince’s men it is Maid Marian who comes in with a bow and arrow and shoots the sheriff’s men. Also, King Richard the Lion-hearted never returns from the Crusades. In this version, Prince John’s mother, the Queen of France, shows up and shames the prince into giving Robin back his title and land. The playbill informs us that this is a play about leadership, and that Robin Hood starts off as a “snotty rich kid”. Now, I’ve seen my fair share of Robin Hood interpretations from Errol Flynn and Kevin Costner to Disney and Mel Brooks, even my own first grade writings… but never have I seen versions where for example, Little John’s wife beats the Prince’s men as happened here. I suppose my main complaint is I didn’t see Robin’s development as a hero, and when I did it was in the form of advice from Maid Marian, who could fight off her captors. If you’re going to name the play Robin Hood, than at least make Maid Marian need the hero. Make her as independent as you like, and feminist, but she can’t wear both the bow AND the pants.

The actors did well, complaints aside. One of the benefits of stage plays is that you can be totally immersed in the action, because there’s no removal as there is with a TV or movie screen. The actors thrive from applause, the reactions are genuine and in real time, and you can sort of people watch, and scope out the people’s reactions. At best though, I’d say it reminded me of high school, where all the fight scenes come from the “William Shatner school of fighting” (as I explained to my mother in the park.) and you just sort of toss people around, and make no contact. All fairness to Robin Hood and James T. Kirk, I considered it nostalgic and funny, and I like being able to be outside AND right there with the actors.

All things considered, I liked the play. I found parts of it unfamiliar, but I enjoyed its dramatic flare, and the actors (Who I assume are acting students from OSU.) all got a kick out of it. It’s that feeling of being center stage and watching all these things happen that’s different from TV. There’s a different atmosphere; all kinds of people came to watch and lie on blankets. Some people brought their dogs. All in all, a pleasant evening out in Schiller Park, but not for a tale of leadership. If this was Robin Hood’s heroic story, I didn’t see it! Why does Marian need Robin Hood again? Oh, yeah! He’s supposed to be the hero. With the bow! For the love of Pete, at least give him the bow, Marian!

TERRY AND THE PIRATES BY MILTON CANIFF

TERRY AND THE PIRATES BY MILTON CANIFF

Milton Caniff was an influential comic book/strip artist that wrote and illustrated American adventure stories throughout the 30s and 40s. His work inspired such acts as Flash Gordon, other adventures, and wrote essentially the first comic book villainess The Dragon Lady. When he died in 1988, he willed his entire collection of stories to the then-new Billy Ireland Cartoon Library at OSU. So, today I decided to take a look at where, in a sense, all the great sci-fi American hero stories began: An adventure strip called Terry and The Pirates, at the Cartoon Library. Today, I read about a year’s worth of that strip, from 1934-1935.

The plot is somewhat archetypal in American adventure stories. A rough sailor, Pat Ryan, and a boy board a ship for Shanghai. The boy sidekick motif was later replicated in Batman & Robin, for example. It was there to provide a means for the hero to escape, and to attract the children of the day. But, the real hero seems to be the sailor Pat Ryan. So, Pat and Terry are off to China. (Representing some unknown land.) On the way, they are attacked by Chinese pirates, at first led by The Dragon Lady. The shrewd Americans are able to outwit and outmuscle their captors, by pretending to cooperate, and then Pat punches them out. Meanwhile, the Dragon Lady tries to poison Terry with tea, but he remembers the story of Lady Borgia (The Italian noblewoman) who poisoned drinks and doesn’t drink. American ingenuity wins again!

Later, the ship is attacked by a rival pirate, Fang. I am almost positive he was an inspiration for Flash Gordon’s Ming the Merciless. Terry devises a plan to signal a British ship to come help using the Dragon Lady’s mirror, and she helps him. In return, she offers to take Terry and Pat to her secret treasure, so she’s not all that bad.

The sort of action, Americans save the day through muscle and know-how, fending off ugly stupid barbarians in faraway primitive lands, replicates itself over time from what I saw, but the action is good and the caricatures of the foreigners (however evil and bumbling they are portrayed.) allow this to be the first true American adventure comic, showing Americans as tough, smart, and ready in a battle of Good vs. Evil, and a force of civilization. (The British sailors were portrayed this way too, though as cowards, not wanting to hurt their men in battle.) Later, The Dragon Lady takes Terry and Pat to get her treasure, to find it is already being taken by a villain named The Skull, who wears such a mask. This made me think of Captain America’s Nazi villain, The Red Skull, who would be created for WWII.

Despite all its antiquated racism, Terry and the Pirates remains the basic template for other American action comics, such as the use of vernacular language by Terry (“Luvva Pete! We’ve been kidnapped by a woman!”) and although it is constrained by the prejudices of the ‘30s with often racist dialogue, it sets the American hero story in motion. We are Good, Tough, and Civilized, the Pirates are the opposite. Over the years, the template would be adapted to sci-fi (the new unknown land.) in the form of Flash Gordon, Star Wars and others, with more nuanced messages about the virtues of democracy and spirituality etc. as told by later generations of Americans.

My overall experience of the Cartoon Library was very impressive. The librarian Susan led me straight to Terry and the Pirates vol. 1 when I asked for it. For the American Hero Story, I decided to go to the source, and I’d heard about the Milton Caniff collection. But that wasn’t all that caught my eye. The library was huge, with full rows of manga/anime as well as reference guides to American comics, like Marvel and DC. (Comic Book Buyer’s Guide, Draw! Magazine, The DC Universe Encyclopedia, The New Yorker, etc.) But, if you had a time machine, and went back in the history of American adventure comics, this would be the formation of the Earth’s crust, the roots of it all, exploring the American hero through comics. Soon, Shanghai would be in space, and our monsters would be aliens and scientists.

Seeing Marvel’s The Avengers

Seeing Marvel’s The Avengers:

The characters in the new Avengers movie worked well together, and that’s why the movie works. And partly why I’ve seen it twice in theatres. (The other part was, I wanted to take my best friend along the 2^nd time.) It’s a great film! Every superhero was at their best! It’s loaded with action, jokes, and heroic exploits for our times.

I’ll be honest, I knew the Avengers only from secondary media in my childhood. Videogames and small appearances on TV. (With Spider-Man.) But, I’d never read their comic extensively until about 2007, when I started to collect comics again in search of the Hero’s Journey, and because they were fun. I can only say that I once told everyone I liked Iron Man the best, prior to ’07, and then realized I was basing that opinion solely on Captain America and The Avengers for Super Nintendo!

Now that each individual Avenger has had their own movie in addition to this blockbuster, and now that I’ve had time to more or less familiarize myself with these characters, I can honestly say that every piece of the movie felt great. It’s action-packed, it’s culturally and socially relevant, and it’s even funny! They started off fighting, exposing their character flaws etc., but eventually put their differences behind and unite to fight off an alien invasion led by Loki. And every character has their comedic moments. Without giving spoilers, with Cap, it's about how old he is, with Hulk, people always try to make him angry. With Thor, he's all brawn and no brains, Iron Man is made fun of for being rich and arrogant. (But, so cool!)

“Okay,” you say. “So, it was action-packed and funny, but you’ve described almost 90% of all action movies. What makes this one so great?” Well, I’m trying not to give spoilers, so I have to go into the experiences of seeing the movie. The first time I went to see the movie, I had a hot dog in the theatre, and pulled up to about the third row and there were a few empty rows. The 2^nd time, I had popcorn and it was packed. Both times though, my attention was figuratively GLUED to the screen for its nearly 3 hour run time. So, I think at least part of what makes the movie work is the pacing between the action, the story (Ooo, Ah!) comic relief, (HAHA; there were some good jokes here. I laughed out loud for about 15 seconds maybe three times, punctuated by little chuckles throughout.) and the big climax. (BOOM! BANG! POW!)

And I would be remiss if I didn’t mention how it incorporated the Hero’s Journey. These heroes from different backgrounds all put aside their differences to fight for a Greater Good. But, they all have to get beyond their perceived flaws first, in order to become one and realize they’re fighting for the same things. And the characters connected so well, whether in conflict or camaraderie, that I never lost interest. Each one had a message for the other about their flaw, and they played well off of each other. So culturally, I think this movie’s about the need to work through differences, but it does it in such a way that it doesn’t stop the action to make its point, as other movies do. And I came out of the movie theater both times with renewed faith that a hero story really can save the world.

All those elements that fit together, are in my opinion, what made it a deserving world record-breaker. (One of the few movies to top one billion dollars worldwide, I hear, behind The Dark Knight.) It’s so fun and spectacular to look at. So I always get asked who my favorite Avenger is now. I have to say I like them all because each one had a message and kicked butt. I’m sorry, no spoilers! But, I’d have to say Captain America is probably most like me, in his loyalty and dedication to keeping the group focused on its goal. Sorry, Super Nintendo-era Iron Man! And yes, I plan on getting the video when it comes out!

My Friend Dahmer by Derf Beckderf A Comic Book Presentation at the Wexner Center OSU:

My Friend Dahmer by Derf Beckderf

Derf Beckderf is an unassuming man in a black shirt, jeans, and horn-rimmed glasses. The first thing he clarified in that sparsely populated gray-walled Wexner Art Center. where splotches of psychedelic art were like quilt patterns, is that he’s usually a humorist, and this graphic novel actually has very little violence. But, he went to high school with Jeffrey Dahmer and was his friend. The book is based on ideas and memories of Jeff in high school that “foreshadow his slow turn into the abyss." So, as you read on, the comic, as well as Dahmer’s behavior, gets darker, both in art and in presentation.
In high school, Derf was a member of the Jeffrey Dahmer Fan Club. Their function was to sneak Dahmer into high school pictures, photos, and just goof around with him.
“Jeff was a lonely kid.” said Beckdorf. “Probably the loneliest kid you ever saw.” So, because he had friends high school was, Beckdorf says, probably the happiest time of his life. He always had a schtick going to make people laugh, or mask that he was always drunk. Sometimes, he’d baaa! like a sheep, or fake epileptic fits, or “the spastic tics” of cerebral palsy. Outside of his group, where he was wearing these masks, he would be alone in the woods, playing with road kill, consumed by profound boredom in the small town of Bath, OH.

In 1978, Beckdorf explains there was no social safety net for children of absent parents. The parents just weren’t around, and Jeff would just wander the woods after school picking at road kill. The style of Derf’s comic book is to blend memoir and journalism. To recreate that lonely experience of the 1970s, both for people who remember it and for people to young, to present what it was like by evoking his memories. So, there was an investigative quality to his art, though not incriminating. In his words, “If you weren’t there, you can be glad you weren’t.” He explains that it was the Stoner Era, so maybe that’s why his drinking went unnoticed, aside from his schticks.

His drinking also masked his dark thoughts and repressed homosexuality. Going through records and talking once again to his former club members, Jeff had fantasies of necrophilia (which he of course later fulfilled; mercifully, no pictures in the comic depict that.) first in high school. Interestingly, he was a big guy, so nobody picked on him, and Beckderf said “There was no revenge fantasy.” He didn’t “get revenge on society, and he wasn’t picked on.” In the last page of the comic has the words “and the rest of his life would be a living hell.” with Dahmer’s face completely dark.

Derf says that Jeff was just a normal kid who led “pretty much the same life as I did; grew up in the same town, fathers were both chemists. But where life paths took us was worlds apart.” He claims that the last photo he has of Jeff in a graduation cap was “his last photo as a human being.” and that after he was separated from his friends “his humanity just fell off in chunks.”

This talk was definitely not what I expected: a “human” comic book perspective of Jeffrey Dahmer in expressionist style. Derf himself plays the role of comic relief. I expected it to be a violent, gritty comic. It was not. It turned darker. But, it never lost its human tone, painting Jeffrey Dahmer as a lonely kid. Also, I never knew he faked cerebral palsy. Interestingly, many people who I think were expecting the comic to be violent left, and we even had a heckler who kept ranting about “The System @#*&ed him up!” who had to be confronted outside by police. Derf even said “Hey, no more comments from the peanut gallery, please!” but the guy would not stop, and was escorted out.

All in all, I’d say the presentation taught me a lot about blending memoir and journalism. Because that’s what I do. Except here we have a very sinister-seeming man, who was remembered as a friend. A lonely kid. And it also cemented in my mind the power of the image not necessarily the word (though that’s what I do.) to represent experience, so the appropriate medium for that is the comic book/graphic novel.

Thought Experiment: Robert Nozick's Experience Machine

   Well, I couldn’t go to the Barack Obama rally at OSU due to bad traffic and marathon runners. So, I spent most the day playing with Robert Nozick’s thought experiment, The Experience Machine. If there were a machine that could lock you into a simulated experience, any one you wanted, would you plug in? This thought experiment was first introduced to me in 2005, so my go-to response was from equal parts William Gibson and The Matrix. No, I said. I personally wouldn’t plug in, but I think it’s wrong to assume that no one could benefit from plugging in, since it could help a lot of people, and we’re already half-way plugged in, anyway. Mercifully though, you can log out of the internet. Here, it would be such a waste of my mind, I’d be bored all the time.

If such a machine existed, I think it would have therapeutic potential. One that perhaps Nozick didn’t see. He, in my mind, assumes able-bodiedness, claiming that a person in the machine would appear to us to be a “indeterminate blob”. Remember, this thought experiment was before The Matrix. Or maybe even Neuromancer. That ignores the evolution of the machines along with the humans. When I think of a person today, it seems to me they are more reliant on machines. And certainly I’m reliant on a machine. I grew up with my chairs, and I’ve treated them like new skins every 5 or 6 years. So, I think some of his argument reveals able-bodied bias. I almost consider myself something of a cyborg-like being. Poetics aside, my reliance on my machine doesn’t make me a blob. But, I still can’t imagine a world where Stephen Hawking were plugged in. It would be the loss of a great mind.

I can see that the machine would have therapeutic aspects. For my body it might be good. But not for my mind. I could only imagine what a waste it would be for disabled people who live full lives and want to be with people. Still though, you could leave the machines open for those whose lives are beyond repair. But there’d have to be a long checklist for the requirements. And probably a long waitlist. So, people could decide to cancel it before, but not after you've been plugged in.

Thought experiments reveal how we think. In that experiment, you could see some of my experiences too. But, I think this experiment reveals in me once and for all, that I am a philosopher of disability. In the years I grappled with it, my process has always been the same, and sometimes my love of sci-fi wins out over philosophy. So, this answer is a negotiation between the two. I don’t think that it’s wrong to want to plug in necessarily (as Nozick sets out to prove.), but the want needs to be carefully considered. And like it or not, we’re kind of temporarily plugged in every day to a simulated experience; the digital. Don’t you think it’s best we enjoy it?

Link to original Thought Experiment PDF: http://www.cas.umt.edu/phil/documents/exper_machine_nozick.pdf

Steve Kuusisto on Poetry and Disability Studies

                                                           

     The Blackwell Inn was a big lavishly decorated hotel, and the conference was held in the ball room. I saw Steve Kuusisto moving up to the podium and talking to his dog “Come on, girl.” Moving in unison with the dog up to the podium. He introduced himself, his guide dog Nari, (Who “by the miracle of frozen sperm” is from his last dog), and began to explain disability as a mode of perception. The ability to re-claim “embodiment” (How our bodies are perceived.) is as ancient as language, he argues.

Steve was funny, articulate, and poetic. Frequently, he made allusions to other poems, or modes of perception that “re-claim embodiment.” That is, he examined the inner world of disability, its lived experience, in contrast to being defined as reified (lacking. Blindness being the absence of light. Deafness being the absence of hearing, etc. In his poetry, he describes his dog as being much more than a dog; that sometimes they are one being. This is actually how I feel about my wheelchair too. He tells stories of watching drunken men in wheelchairs eating flowers, and wrote about that poetically. Through poetry, Steve gains insight and a unique epistemology.

The practice of Disability Studies (which at many points he named “crip theory” which I still don’t like, but its nonetheless a valid use.) is to invert questions of physical ontology into epistemological questions: How do we know what we know? Because disability is a mode of perception. Physical form itself is related to self-consciousness. Steve talked about disability as “The First” mode of perception in fact, because in the able-bodied mode, once the bodily function of language is mastered, they are made to forget that it was a learned activity until sight, language, mobility, sound becomes natural and normative.

Between interjected poems, imagery, and jokes of poetry being “exquisite bullshit” he would occasionally take autobiographical turns, and talk about his travels through Graz, Austria with jazz musicians, or his surgery to correct his cataract, which is now gone, but he is still blind and able to make out shapes which he described as being like a “ball of light.” His grasp of poetic analysis is such that it was a rich-spirited experience.

But, the crux I felt was really in his stories of “passing” as sighted. Herein was the lesson for me, as even though I employ language willfully to highlight the intrinsic experience of my disability, as Steve does, I feel alien in my out body when my language must of necessity throw me back out to an “able-bodied” world. Steve talked about thus “passing” as not blind, so that people wouldn’t attach a stigma to it. And then, he got tired of not going places and said “Enough is enough.” and just realized that people will stare regardless. Being blind was part of who he is. It forced me to ask myself if I was in some ways “passing”, by cutting myself out from a community to whom I must constantly reassert my linguistic control, lived body, and strong mythological culture; with the exception of when I do ethnography and can understand disability as a valid mode of perception within that social structure. Of course, that’s what I’ve been trying to say along.

But, Steve made me feel that I was not alone. And that for me was most empowering. I loved his imagery that he and his dog were a centaur, and the angel beings passing by in balls of light. He said it helps to be around brave people, as well. I suspect that Steve realizes the importance of a strong culture, mythically, socially, politically. Although, I don’t necessarily agree with the WIDELY held claim apparently, that Disability Rights/”Crip Theory” (which still makes me cringe to hear, “cripple” being in my mind, negative.) can be equated to “identity politics”. Such as women’s rights, African-American rights, gay rights, etc. Though it wasn’t in the talk itself, he answered a number of Q&A period questions by using identity politics. It’s a complex issue, I know, and I won’t dwell on it, suffice to say that the spectrum of Disability needs and rights is so diverse, and so numerous, that I don’t think there can ever be a Mass Disability Rights Movement. I believe in individuals asserting their political human rights, but not in the way that, say, Women’s Rights could address issues of sexism. Disability rights are human rights, in mind, and should not be treated separately. Anyway, the Q&A and the political movement part threw me out of the poetic, and we were back to in my mind examining disability as a lack…as Steve says “reified”.

But, I carry that idea of that culture with me. I loved his poetry. It was so freeing. So life-affirming and self-conscious, and yet he faced it bravely. And I learned, in talking to him later that he thought any mass movement, would be “grassroots, coming from individuals making and understanding the new media.” Well, as a Communication and Media theorist, that’s exactly what I wanted to hear! So, I might have pegged him wrong at first. He mixes “identity politics” and media theory. It’s not one or the other. Very assertive and intelligent man. His dog Nari, is a beautiful Yellow Labrador, by the way. So glad I went and was able to discuss Disability Studies with him a bit. I felt at home again, like in class.

It was a very beautiful, very creative presentation, and left me braver and stronger with the knowledge that the poetic outlook in Disability Studies is a prominent and valid one. Each of us is constituted by the self-awareness of our bodies. Ishmael had scars. Ahab had a peg leg. And yet, they kept on after Moby Dick, in spite of it. Each one of us is constituted by re-claiming our environment through language. Fabulous talk, and validated everything I’d learned and more! A lot to think about. And a lot to take in intrinsically, as I reflect on who I am: The Hero.

Shatner's World

Yesterday, I went to a performance of Shatner's World: We Just Live In It at the Columbus Theater in Ohio. How was it? First off, this is an hour-long monologue about Shatner's career. (William Shatner, Capt. Kirk, Denny Crane, Priceline Negotiator etc.) I can't really say much except that he's everything pop culture has trained us to believe he is. He's funny, he's a ham, and he's a great public speaker. I noticed a few times where he started to flub his lines, but carried on like nothing happened. He started with his childhood, and then went up to 2011; with funny anecdotes in-between. From Shakespearean actor to pop culture icon.
    The meet-and-greet was short, and I had to be home by 9pm to meet an aide, but he did say "hi" to me, and we take a picture (With me, still starstruck, not looking at the camera, but they said it turned out okay.) It was a great performance. And now, I can say I've met Captain Kirk!!! And got his autograph. I brought a Star Trek book for him to sign, but they only let him sign event posters, which I suppose is a good move. Hearing him greet me actually, was really cool. He was friendly. His staff, not so much. They told everyone to keep it short and not tell Mr. Shatner your life story...which is a good move, but still a little off-putting. I mean, for me, I just got in, got the autograph, they took the picture, and I got out. Everyone gave him compliments and he acted surprised and said "Oh my!" with that Captain Kirk smile. At least what I can only describe as a Captain Kirk smile. I told him thank you, and he said thank you, and that was the meet-and-greet. He has a very friendly sort of uncle-like presence off-stage. (Avuncular, good word!)
    My favorite  story was that on  the day they landed on the moon, a kid showed up at Shatner's hotel room and asked him if he missed his spaceship. And then, Shatner played Star Trek with the kid, pretending that the stove was navigation and the shower was the transporter. And that's how remembers the moon landing. Not to ruin that part of the performance, but it's still funny when you see him pantomiming all this.

Here's me: