BABE Of The DAY - JENNIFER BEALS...

While JENNIFER leisurely reclines on the

sofa, I'm pushing the vacuum cleaner over the carpet,

hoovering up several biscuits I dropped when I walked

into the living-room and saw her lying there.  Now, the

domestic chores are usually Jen's area of expertise, but

she said I could join her on the sofa if I did it this

 once.  Well, it sounds like a good deal to me!

THIS YOU GOTTA SEE!

I noticed this clip on MARK EVANIER's blog a day or so ago, but skipped by it.  However, having now just watched it, I have to say that it's bloody brilliant!  CHRISTOPHER RICE, CLAY THOMSON, and lovely ELOISE KROPP pay spectacular toe-tapping tribute to the recently departed DEBBIE REYNOLDS in the 'GOOD MORNING' dance routine from SINGIN' In The RAIN.

All three performers are great, but you'll find it  hard to take your eyes off the cute one with the legs.  (And don't miss the blooper reel at the end.)

The MORE THINGS CHANGE...! Or: If I COULD TURN BACK TIME...

Train up a child in the way he should go, and

when he is old, he will not depart from it.

(Proverbs 22:6.)

Don't panic, I'm not about to preach to you, but the above verse has a remarkable degree of truth to it.  However, it doesn't just apply in the case of morality; it has other implications.  I'm talking about how impressionable we are as youngsters, to the extent that our early experiences shape our sense of how we expect things to be (that's how it seemed to me anyway) for the rest of our lives.  Not convinced?  Allow me to give you a few examples.

Currency for one.  I still think of £sd as 'real' money and view decimal coins as a recent introduction.  Bar codes on comics for another.  Although that wee box was introduced over 40 years ago and has graced the covers of the majority of comics I've ever bought, to me it still seems like a fairly new interloper (a squatter) that I'd be more than glad to see the back of.  Next is Jeremy Paxman, current host of University Challenge.  In two years time, he'll have been presenting the programme for 25 years, equalling his famous predecessor Bamber Gascoigne, the 'real' presenter in my opinion.

And how about Snickers, M&Ms, Oil of Olay, and various other items?  To me, they'll always be Marathon, Treets and Oil of Ulay (not that I use the last one, I hasten to add - despite perhaps needing to).  Doctor Who?  There'll only ever be one, and that's William Hartnell.  I could go on and on (and some of you no doubt fear that I will), but you get the point.  Our first experience of how things are in our early years becomes the template for how we feel things should be for our entire allotted span on this planet.

That's how I feel anyway.  No doubt there are exceptions to the rule, but what I've just outlined probably goes a long way in explaining why, in the main, I don't like change.  I have difficulty coming to terms with familiar things disappearing from my life; I hate it when trees get cut down, or lampposts or paving slabs are replaced, or when buildings are demolished, or fields where I played as a child are built on.  I want things (as I first knew them) to stay the same forever, and what's more, I want to be around forever to enjoy them for all eternity.

What about the rest of you?  Do you think I'm talking my usual load of old pants, or do you feel the same as I do on the matter?  Hey, I've got a great idea - why don't we put on a 'show' right here?  Okay, we'll do it in the comments section.  So, which one of you is up first?  Get typing. 

BABE Of The DAY - JENNIFER BEALS...

Astonishing JENNIFER BEALS

graces us with her divine presence today,

Crivs.  We are most certainly not worthy

(though we live in fervent hope).

RIVETING REPOST: TEST YOUR 'METTLE' DEPT: IS IT HEAVY?

Copyright relevant owner

Back in 1990, the manager of a local band asked me if I could possibly secure the services of a 2000 A.D. artist to do an album cover for him.  He had no specific artist in mind - anyone who worked on the comic would suffice.  "I'll see what I can do," I replied, "but it'll probably cost you."  I 'phoned SIMON BISLEY, who wasn't interested, so I told him to name a figure that'd make it worth his while.  Perhaps wishing to price himself out of a job he didn't want, he quoted a sum far in excess of his usual page rate (at that time anyway).  I relayed it to the manager, thinking it'd be beyond his means, but to my surprise, he agreed.  I told Simon it was a deal and he went to work, turning the job 'round in no time flat.

Simon generously offered me £100 for putting the job his way, but I turned it down on the grounds that, as he'd done all the work, he was entitled to all the money.  All I'd done was make a few 'phone calls to describe to him what the band had in mind (before he and the manager started talking directly between themselves).  As it turned out, it was worth every penny - and then some - because the cover was what swung a record deal their way.  The band's manager played their demo album to the record company, then delivered the coup de grace - the finished cover art by a high-profile artist.  A deal was struck on the spot.

I was promised an extra-special mention in the sleeve notes, which was only fair, I thought.  After all, the cover had got them the deal, and I'd got them the cover.  When the album was released, everyone else and their granny got a mention - everyone, that is, except me, who'd suddenly become the invisible man.  Simon Bisley got paid, the band got their cover and a record deal, the manager got to bathe in the reflected glory and publicity (plus whatever percentage he was on), staff at the hotel the band rehearsed in were thanked in the sleeve notes, and sundry other folk were credited for simply breathing.  Me?  I got hee-haw!

Well, that's not quite true.  I got one spare, well-played copy of the CD (with well-worn, wrinkled inlay booklet).  I'd have thought I deserved a brand-new, shrink-wrapped copy at least.

And the moral of the story?  If anyone asks you to do something which they hope is going to make their fame and fortune, charge them for your time.  Promises of gratitude are worthless.    

THE DAILY PLANET - PRINTED AND PUBLISHED IN MILTON KEYNES...

Following on from the previous post, let me expand a little on the subject of 'Bob Billens' and my brief mention of SUPERMAN IV.  One evening, sometime in 1986 or early '87, I received a 'phone call from Bob, saying that he'd snapped several photographs of CHRISTOPHER REEVE dressed as Superman on location in MILTON KEYNES, where the 4th (and worst) film of the series was being shot, and where Bob and his wife were then (and may yet be) living.

"How much are they worth to you?" he suddenly enquired, which took me somewhat by surprise as, had the situation been reversed, I'd have had extra prints made and sent them to him at my own expense.  I hesitated for a second while I tried to come up with a diplomatic response.  "I'd be interested in seeing them because you took them," I said, "but they're not really worth anything to me over and above the cost of printing."  A moment of silence followed as he pondered this clearly unexpected development.  (No photographic pun intended by the way.)

"Do you know anyone else who might buy them? he asked, sounding almost desperate.  I doubt he'd have needed money, but he'd never previously shown any interest in being recognised as a photographer, so I wondered as to why he seemed so eager to sell them.  "I'll 'phone a couple of places," I said, "and get back to you."  As we drew our conversation to a close, he told me he'd get a spare set of photos made and post them to me.  "I'll reimburse all your costs," I said, "so that you won't be out of pocket!"

Once I got off the 'phone, I called two people.  One was the guy (Dave Hern I think) who ran Wonderworld Comics in Bournemouth and the other was one of the guys in charge at AKA Books & Comics in Glasgow.  Both calls were short ones, as neither of them could see the photographs being of any commercial value on account of there being no end of  images of Chris Reeve in his Superman togs.

I felt slightly disappointed on Bob's behalf as I rang him with the bad news.  He sounded annoyed, but I naturally assumed it was at the shortsighted thinking (as he would've seen it) of the two comics shop proprietors, not with me; after all, I'd done my best.  As I was saying my goodbyes, my father opened the living-room door (the 'phone was in the hall), letting out the sound of the TV, while at the same time continuing a conversation with my mother as he passed me.  The combined volume of telly and parents made it difficult to hear what Bob was saying, but we were in the closing seconds of our chat anyway.

"I'll call you when the pics arrive," I said, " 'Bye."  I was in a fair bit of haste to hang up and spare us from the cacophony of TV and parents, so didn't quite catch his reply, but I got the distinct impression he'd raised his voice.  I assumed he'd done so only to compensate for the sudden burst of sound emanating from his receiver, but on reflection, I now wonder if he was being stroppy, thinking I had been bullsh*tting about ringing anyone regarding the photos.  You see, I'd called him back within about 15 minutes, and perhaps he considered that too soon to have fully investigated all the potential possibilities.

Anyway, the photographs failed to materialise and I never heard from him again, though I later learned he'd dropped into our former workplace a couple of times while back in town to visit his inlaws.  I once considered him a top bloke, but when I became surplus to the requirements of his everyday life, I was jettisoned like so much 'excess baggage'.  However, my philosophy is who the hell needs 'friends' like that anyway, so no great loss.  So why bore you all with this reminiscence now, you may be wondering.  Am I acting under a bizarre compulsion to indulge in some sort of cathartic 'exorcism' ?

The explanation is simpler than that.  When one has a blog, one often has to plumbs the depths of one's personal experiences to provide material to write about, otherwise you lot would have to go without - and that'd never do.  So - consider the depths plumbed.

Any of your pals ever proved to be 'fairweather' friends?  Tell your Criv-ite chums all about it in our ever-so-interesting comments section.

Next - another rambling (but riveting) repost.

RAMBLING REPOST: SUPERMAN, 'BOB BILLENS', AND ME...

Images copyright DC COMICS

I was looking for some biographical information on a well-known comics artist a couple of days back, and duly entered his name (or so I thought) into the search box at the top of the screen. Being the impatient type, I picked the first one on the proffered list and hit the key - only to discover that it wasn't the individual I was looking for.

My mistake, but - many years ago - I had a friend whose name was very similar to that of the artist, and, in my haste, I'd unconsciously typed his name - Bob Billens - instead of the intended Bob Billings.  (Names changed to protect the guilty, but they really are that similar.) The face of what appeared to be a complete stranger stared out at me from the screen, and I was about to backspace to the previous page when something made me look again more closely.

Wonder of wonders! It was the actual former friend of nearly half my life ago, apparently doing very well in the world - if his self-penned many fine words in tribute to him and his achievements can be taken at face value.  Not that it matters much - he was always his own biggest fan.  And anyway, what's a blog for if not to blow one's own trumpet?  (And, in his case, try and generate a few freelance employment opportunities.)

What struck me, however, was just how old he looked, which is why I hadn't recognised him at first glance.  Being the nostalgic sort, I just couldn't stop my mind from rewinding back through the many years to when I first met 'Bob', sometime in 1979.  As I have to fill this blog with something, I may as well tell you about it now.  Hopefully, I'll contrive a way of making it seem at least vaguely interesting before we reach the end of the story.

Starting in February 1979, I worked in my local Central Library for about six or seven months. Quite a few of the 'head' librarians were given to looking down their noses at those working 'under' them, and boasting about the extent of their overdrafts.  (As banks only give money to those who've already got money, they considered it some sort of status symbol to be accorded the 'honour' of owing loads of dosh.  They really were a tedious bunch of pretentious, insufferable poseurs.

I'd been there for perhaps only a couple of months when a female colleague one day exclaimed: "You sound just like Bob Billens...", before explaining - in response to my predictable enquiry - that 'Bob Billens' was a university student (just graduated) who worked in the library during the Summer months.

Anyway, before long, I got to meet Bob Billens, and - sure enough - he did sound a little like me.  Amazingly, he was also a dyed-in-the-wool comicbook geek like myself, and we soon hit it off - talking comics and swapping opinions on what we thought of the new SUPERMAN movie with CHRISTOPHER REEVE (which was then still only a few months old).  We also indulged in a fair amount of secret sniggering at the pomposity and pretensions of our library 'masters'.

I very soon became discontented and suddenly quit the job, but our friendship continued. However, not too long afterwards, Bob and his wife (in a pre-planned career move) 'upped-sticks' and relocated to England.  We kept in touch for a few years until, gradually, his new life claimed him completely and his already steadily-waning inclination to maintain contact finally evaporated.

When shot-on-location photos of Superman IV he'd taken and promised to send never arrived - with no word from him in the weeks or months that followed - it became clear he'd no intention of getting in touch again.  Not being one to impose myself on people, I didn't pursue the matter, even though I found it slightly puzzling given our common interest.

Perhaps he'd simply concluded that, being hundreds of miles distant, I could serve no further possible practical purpose in his day-to-day life (especially after I'd given him my highly collectable SUPERMAN The MOVIE poster) and was therefore surplus to requirements.

Also, I probably just didn't measure up to his 'sophisticated' new circle of posh friends and colleagues down South.  He'd actually once 'hinted' as much on a brief visit home, when he gave me an odd look and said "I dread to think what the folks at work would say if they saw you."  He tried to say it in a 'jokey' way, but was obviously embarrassed by what he considered my lack of sartorial elegance and less than fashionable appearance.  (Judge for yourselves from the above photo.  I think I look rather saintly.)

The irony of him becoming the same kind of status-seeking, social-climbing snooty snob as the former library colleagues he'd so often claimed to despise and regularly heaped scorn upon isn't lost on me.  It would be on him though, but that's usually the way of such things.

That reminds me - I really must track down a replacement for that Superman movie poster one day.  One that doesn't look quite so old and as tired as Bob Billens.

(And 'Bob' - if by some remote chance you ever happen to read this - I'm sure you'd like to know that 'Big Rosa' sends you her regards.  I can't speak for anyone else though.)

******

And no doubt you'll all be pleased to know that I've now obtained a replacement poster of the one I originally bought way back in January 1979 in the ABC Cinema in Glasgow.

BABE Of The DAY - JENNIFER BEALS...

JENNIFER BEALS is what I

call a woman.  And I'm likely what

she calls... a word I can't publish on a

nice, polite blog like this one.  I don't

care though, I still love her anyway.

And be honest - so do you!

SPECTACULAR SPLASH PAGES #19...

Image copyright DC COMICS

Another JACK KIRBY/WALLY WOOD CHALLENGERS Of The UNKNOWN spectacular splash page for you to drool over, Criv-ites.  I could waffle on for a bit so that you feel you're getting full value for money (?), but that would merely serve to delay you from clicking on the image to enlarge it for a more detailed study.

So what are you waiting for?  Click away.

BABE Of The DAY - JULIE NEWMAR...

Here's JULIE NEWMAR from before

she played CATWOMAN in the BATMAN

TV show in the '60s.  Yet she still looks like the

cat who got the cream to me.  What about the

rest of you cavorting Crivvies?

RECOMMENDED READING: The AVENGERS...

Images copyright MARVEL COMICS

I have to confess that I've lost track of modern comics.  The characters don't seem to be the ones I grew up reading, whether they be MARVEL or DC mags.  Why the powers-that-be would jettison decades of continuity and alienate long-time fans seems a stupid thing to do, but what do I know?  I'm just a guy who's been contributing towards their success for many years.

Surely there must be a way of attracting new readers without chasing away older ones?  And this new title is a step in the right direction.  It's set in the time when the original AVENGERS had 'retired', and HAWKEYE, QUICKSILVER & The SCARLET WITCH had joined CAPTAIN AMERICA to become the new team.  (I just love that 1960s corner cover box!)

I'd first read the original stories when they were reprinted in a British periodical called TERRIFIC back in 1967, and reading new adventures of the same line-up (starting from when they first formed) makes me feel as if I'm a kid again, sitting with a pile of comics in the back garden of the house I lived in at the time.

If you hail from the same period as myself and enjoyed The Avengers when you were a youngster, then you're sure to love this comic as much as I do.  So here are the first three covers to whet your appetite.  You'll find #3 in all good comicbook shops now - and, if you're really lucky, they might still have #s 1 & 2 as well.  Happy reading!

And, as a bonus, below is how I first encountered the new team of The Avengers way, way back in 1967.  Just a shame they got the colour of CAP's sleeves wrong.

RECOMMENDED READING: KAMANDI CHALLENGE SPECIAL #1...

Image copyright DC COMICS

As a 'taster' for an upcoming 12 part round-robin series, DC COMICS have just published KAMANDI CHALLENGE SPECIAL #1, with reprints of two JACK KIRBY stories, plus two 'previously unpublished (which isn't quite true, but take it up with DC) classics'.  The cover comes from Kamandi #32 (a 'Giant' issue) and is a neat little item for Kirby fans.

BABE Of The DAY - ABIGAIL RATCHFORD...

Don't look so distressed, ABIGAIL.

Just 'cos I cancelled our hot date tonight as

I'm washing my hair doesn't mean we can't

go out another night, so don't despair, gal.

(Women - they're so insecure.)

TEENAGE TALES: HOSPITAL HIJINKS...

The long-vanished hospital shop of my childhood, teenage years
and young adulthood.  Demolished sometime back in the '90s 

I've a nagging suspicion that I may've told this tale before.  Or perhaps I intended to tell it but then forgot.  Either way, I can't find it on the blog or remember which of those two possibilities is the right one, so I may as well tell it now - or again - whichever is the case.

When I was a teenager, me and my pals were quite adventurous in our, er, adventures.  We explored places we had no right to be, convinced in our fevered imaginations that we were agents of U.N.C.L.E., or The Three Investigators, or 007 - or any fictional characters with whom one associates 'living on the edge'.

We explored building sites, office blocks, the local Civic Centre - before, during and after working hours.  We investigated hotels, restaurants, churches - even the local hospital and surrounding out-buildings.  You name it, any place we shouldn't have been, we were all over it like a rash.  For we were - The Adventurers!  (Seriously, that's what we called ourselves.  Or maybe it was just what I called ourselves and the others merely humoured me, but hey - still counts in my book.)

Let's just pause for a moment while I savour the thrill of what I deludedly (but willingly) like to believe was my exciting everyday life as a teenager, but (sadly) know I'm likely romanticising just a bit.  But we had our moments, and one such moment was this.

Sometimes there were three of us, but on this particular evening, there were only two - my good self and a friend who, for the purpose of this tale, we'll call Adam Cowie.  We'd just been into the local hospital shop so that I could check to see if it had any U.S. comics or black and white mags that, for some reason, weren't regularly or readily available from other newsagents.

There used to be more trees here, but they were felled to make
way for car parking areas.  Again, none of this exists today

The shop had nothing to offer, alas, so we then decided to investigate a ground-level out-building partially concealed by a wooded area.  It was one of several annexes once used as wards (I think), though at the time of this tale, used mainly for storing medical supplies and maybe also by administration staff.  We gained entry through the door, which yielded (undamaged) under the slightest pressure from our inquisitive selves.

We wandered the corridor, exploring the various rooms, and I happened to notice that all the windows were tightly secured with string, tied around the handles to prevent them from being opened.  My pal had just examined a bag containing a variety of medical implements and put it down again, when we were suddenly aware of what sounded like soft, slow footsteps, stealthily making their way along the corridor.

Discovery meant trouble, for who'd ever believe we were merely indulging our over-developed sense of curiosity by doing a bit of exploring without criminal intent?  My friend (as usual) sh*t a brick, but I was made of cooler stuff.  I'd noticed a pair of small surgical scissors in the bag my pal had been looking at, so I extracted them and quietly cut the string around the handle, replaced the scissors, then we both made a rapid escape through the open window frame and vanished in a cloud of dust over the horizon to freedom.

Phew! It had been a near miss, but once again we had evaded capture by the combined agents of S.M.E.R.S.H., S.P.E.C.T.R.E., T.H.R.U.S.H. and HYDRA, and were free to fight yet another day.  Well, that's how things seemed to my fertile imagination, but then again, I always was a bit of a nutter.

Ah, those were the days.  

BABE Of The DAY - ABIGAIL RATCHFORD...

What can be said about angel

ABIGAIL RATCHFORD that isn't

redundant?  You can see what a honey

she is for yourselves - and she's forever

'phoning me and begging me for a date.

(What's that, doctor?  It's time for my

coloured 'Smarties'?  I really like red

 ones, give me a red one please.)

SPECTACULAR SPLASH PAGES #18...

"Any spare change, guv'nor?"  The above character would sure give you a fright if you chanced to encounter him in a bright alley, never mind a dark one.  Not quite sure how MARVEL got away with this one, as zombies and the undead (or are they both the same thing?) weren't supposed to be allowed by the COMICS CODE, but it gave Big JOHN BUSCEMA the chance to turn in a spectacular splash page.  And hey - that's what this series is all about! 

Updated: F-TOYS THUNDERBIRDS...

The most accurate TB2 model I've seen

Okay, I've dusted down my THUNDERBIRDS models and taken a few new photos, so here's the results.  TB1 was difficult to do justice to, because the silvery surface tends to reflect the light (the daylight that is, I didn't use my camera flash), so this is the best I can do with this one for the moment.  Enjoy.

The wings pull out.  It looks far better than the photo suggests 

Third up is TB4.  I'll show 3 and 5 another time

BABE Of The DAY - KATE UPTON...

For the life of me, I can't think of a

thing to say that does KATE UPTON's

beauty proper justice.  Apart, perhaps,

from... "Schwiiiiiiiiiiiiinng!!"

HAPPY BIRTHDAY POW! ODHAMS PRESS POWER COMICS FIRST ISSUES COVER GALLERY (A RAMBLING REPOST)...

Images copyright relevant owners

As it's the 50th Anniversary year since POW! first went on sale in 1967, it's the perfect excuse for me to take the lazy route by reprinting a post which includes not only the cover of #1, but also the debut covers of the other four Power Comics.  And guess what?  I've even thrown in the very first instalment of The CLOAK!  How's that for generosity?

******

The first two didn't begin life as 'POWER COMICS' - that happened somewhere along the way after they'd started reprinting MARVEL strips, but the next three began their runs with the big bold Power badge emblazoned on their covers.  For a while, all five weeklies were published concurrently, but eventually WHAM! merged with POW!, TERRIFIC with FANTASTIC, then Pow! with SMASH! and, finally, Fantastic also merged with Smash!, which became the sole surviving Power comic until it was revamped and relaunched (without Marvel reprints) in March of 1969.

Here then are all five first issue covers for you to drool over.

THE CLOAK first appeared in POW! #18 on May 13th (cover-dated 20th) 1967, drawn by Birmingham-based artist MIKE HIGGS.  It had a different look to other strips in the comic and, given its spy/mystery/horror-themed stories (albeit in a comedy vein), proved popular enough to last nearly two years.  It started in Pow!, continued in POW! & WHAM!, then SMASH! & POW!, and finally ended in SMASH! (Incorporating FANTASTIC) #162, March 1st (dated 8th) 1969.  I remember the strip mainly because I fancied LADY SHADY, the Cloak's EMMA PEEL-style sometimes sidekick.  (Wotta bod!  Makes me want to marry a drawing.)

Anyway, for all you Cloak fans out there, here's his first appearance  from the swingin' '60s.  He's turned up at least a couple of times in recent years - first in the back of a self-published comic by a former assistant of Mike Higg's, and then in the pages of CRIKEY!, a (now defunct) mag devoted to British comics and their creators.

Art by MIKE HIGGS

Something I noticed only recently is that a panel from the very first appearance of The CLOAK (POW! #18, cover-dated May 13th 1967) was clearly based on the front cover of MAD #1 (cover-dated October-November 1952).  Or could it be no more than mere coincidence?  Doubt it, but as it took me nigh on 50 years to spot it, I don't suppose I'll be receiving a BLUE PETER badge for my keen observational skills anytime soon.

Art by HARVEY KURTZMAN  

(BOND) BABE Of The DAY - MARGARET NOLAN...

It was magnificent MARGARET NOLAN's

gold-painted, undulating body in the opening credits

of GOLDFINGER, not SHIRLEY EATON's.  Credit

 where credit is due - especially in the credits, eh?

IT'S ALL A MATTER Of MODERATION. Or: 'CHANGE' ISN'T ALWAYS CHANGE...

Copyright relevant owner

A couple or so years ago I became, for a brief time, a member of a British comics forum.  The forum had an 'edit' option on its comments page, which meant that, however careful the writer had  been during composition, any errors in spelling, punctuation or grammar he'd missed could be corrected after submission. Naturally, it would be stated that the comment had been edited, and precisely when.

It's a handy thing having such a facility, and I've never tried to hide the fact that, on this very blog of mine, I continually edit and revise my posts - not only for the sake of clarity and conciseness, but also to make the overall shapes of paragraphs more aesthetically-pleasing to the eye.  In fact, I've seen myself revising a sentence and thereby reshaping a paragraph, more because it makes the result look better than because it makes it read better.

Most changes are mainly of style rather than of content.  When it comes to corrections, it varies.  If I notice a mistake, I usually just amend the text, rather than adding an updated footnote.  This is simply because any future readers might bail out halfway through, taking the error with them as fact.  If anyone draws my attention to an inaccuracy, I'll fix it, and acknowledge the contribution in the comments section.  I've even been known to do all those things:  fix the goof, add a footnote saying I've fixed it - and mention it in the comments section.

So back to the afore-mentioned comics forum.  If I spotted a typo or grammatical error in one of my comments, or just saw a way of saying the same thing in a clearer, shorter way, I'd sometimes 'edit' my comment.  Not to alter the meaning, but to polish the presentation.  I'm sure I wasn't the only one.  There was one lengthy comment I kept refining as, no sooner did I think it finished than something else occurred to me to say.  However, as it was in the early hours of the morning, it was unlikely to have been read (and it certainly hadn't been replied to),  so I continued to sculpt and to mould it 'til I was satisfied.  However, I didn't alter its tone or intent - no back-pedalling.

Now, as I was later advised by the site-owner, one of the moderators (one ANDY BOAL) had never wanted me to be allowed to join in the first place, and was prejudiced against me.  He suspended the edit facility for every member, then tipped off another member he'd done so because of me, scurrilously suggesting I was retroactively altering the meaning of some of my comments, not just fine-tuning my phraseology.  When I enquired about the missing edit facility, the favoured member jumped in to say it was because I 'kept changing my comments', thus demonstrating that he had inside (though inaccurate) information.  The site owner later conceded it appeared obvious that the individual was being privately supplied with internal info.

Regular readers will know what eventually happened next, so I'll skip past all that to avoid repeating myself.  (Details can be found here.)  No doubt you'll be wondering why I'm airing the topic again.  Well, about a year or so ago, I received an email from a comics-blogger who'd once been an editor at a prominent publishing company.  He explained that he objected to something I'd written and had taken the 'precaution' of taking a screen-grab, as I was 'well-known' for 'rewriting' my blog posts - 'something we all do', he later stated, seemingly unaware of the glaring absurdity of his inconsistent double-standards.

When I challenged him to provide even one example in support of his claim, he recanted and apologised, though his subsequent attitude caused me to doubt the sincerity of his apology.  However, I was left to wonder whether there was a link between his mistaken perception I altered my posts for the unethical purpose of misdirection or deception, and the malicious mis-information promulgated by a disgruntled, disingenuous moderator on that other comics forum.   

So, I freely admit (and always have) that, in my fruitless quest for 'perfection', I edit, revise, correct, update and polish my blog posts, to make them as factual, informative, entertaining, and as visually appealing as they can possibly be, but I don't alter them to say the opposite of what I'd originally published in order to escape any potential embarrassment, consequence, or legal penalty which might ensue from anything I'd written.

And yes, I may well edit this post - if it occurs to me how to convey the exact same 'content' in a better, smarter, funnier (and shorter) way than I have.  However, the purpose of the post and the message contained therein will remain intact.  Improvement of expression is no bad thing - so long as the original spirit or intention isn't compromised.  Some people would do well to bear that in mind before making unfounded accusations.

******

(And indeed, I've now pruned it, as there was too much repetition of details provided in the link.) 

AGAIN! BEST OF BRITISH - FACEACHE...

Image copyright REBELLION

KEN REID was among the cream of the crop of British cartoonists, and, looking at the above strip, all the exquisite detailing for which he was justly renowned is still evident.  However, although this is a lovely page, I think I see a hint of the beginning of the later decline in Ken's art, in that the panel compositions are mainly 'side-on', making the characters appear one-dimensional.  The inevitable result, alas, of being drawn mostly in profile.  As I said though, still a lovely page.

RAMBLING REPOST: BOND AND BEYOND - '77 STYLE...

Copyright relevant owner

It was the long, hot Summer of 1977.  (Ever noticed how all Summers seem long and hot in the hallowed halls of memory?)  40 years ago, but (astonishingly) as fresh and alive in my mind as a lover's whispered goodbye.  Myself and two friends were making our way to the local YMCA, into which one of them was moving for a few months before relocating to Cornwall to begin his training for a (short-lived) career in the Royal Navy.  The sun beat down upon us, a gentle breeze caressed our heated brows, and, from the speaker of a small radio one of us carried, came the 45 rpm version of BOND '77 by MARVIN HAMLISCH, who had written the soundtrack of the soon-to-be-released blockbuster biggie, The SPY Who LOVED ME.

I purchased the single (which I still have) that same day, from the record department of my local BOOTS The CHEMIST (the shop whose employ I'd left only a few months before), and my next acquisition was the original soundtrack LP the instant it became available.  At the appointed time, I also dutifully trotted along to the local cinema (called, unsurprisingly and unimaginatively, 'The CINEMA', which had the largest screen in Scotland) to see the 10th JAMES BOND movie in the 15 year-old series which had started in 1962.

Back then, in the days before home video had become the latest 'must have' possession, the only way to see a movie more than once (not counting repeats on TV) was to trot back to the cinema for another screening, which I usually did - again and again and again - though only with movies I'd enjoyed, obviously.  I no longer recall exactly how many times I went to see The Spy Who Loved Me, but I know I saw MOONRAKER four times two years later, and, in between, I'd seen SUPERMAN The MOVIE a staggering seven times (five in the ABC in Glasgow's Sauchiehall Street, twice in my local cinema) before I was fully sated.

Bond girl Caroline Munro

Anyway, on my last visit to see The Spy Who Loved Me, I spied (no pun intended) the manager, Mr. BOB JOHNSTONE, in the foyer as I made my way out.  On a spur-of-the moment whim (and what other kind is there?), I approached him and politely asked if I could have the poster as the movie was at the end of its run.  Much to my surprise he acquiesced, and duly set about taking it from its display case before pressing it into my eager  hands.  I still have it to this day, though, sadly, Mr. Johnstone has 'retired' to that great cinema club in the sky and 'The Cinema' is now a Bingo hall (and has been for longer than its 20 years as a cinema).

So, here's to the Summer of '77 - long since vanished into history, but the spirit of which yet lingers and is only a thought and sometimes merely a dream (or even just a movie) away.