Updates might be spotty the next few days: the Cappy is about to be in town in, like, an hour on that aforementioned leave and I will be trying to spend as much time as possible with my brother from another mother before the Army steals him away again.
This is an outtake from a shoot for a poster that came free with an X-Files comic book that the Cappy and I both had in high school. HMS Dorkytimes, ahoy!
For a four-eyed loner who spent most of my childhood in the back of moving vans with headphones and a comic, and my school days trying to stay under the radar, I am ridiculously lucky to have such great, great friends as an adult. The past few weeks have made me more aware of that than ever.
I’ll try to squeeze in or schedule my Daily Batmans and some fun stuff in the next few days, but I plan to be mainly absent. Catch you on the flip!
Bettie Page in catsuit. Unknown date. R.I.P., Queenie.
Like Batman, the Catwoman operated outside the law within her own code of morality. She predated the creation of Alfred, the Penguin, and even famous heroines like Wonder Woman, Miss Fury, and Black Cat. Catwoman broke the glass ceiling of the comic industry and raised the bar for future female characters. From their first battle in Batman #1, the caped crusader has uniquely allowed her to escape.
Selina Kyle became a foil to Batman, a reflection of his own dark desires and need for healing, as well a Jungian anima to his animus.
(Fies, Elizabeth. “History of a Femme Fatale.” Catwoman: The Creation of a Twentieth Century Goddess.Batmedia, 2001.)
Fans of different generations of the Catwoman archetype make their own attractions to the character. Obviously she fills a void in comics of complex female characters; women that both male and female readers can relate to and admire. The largest difference between our modern mythology and the fairy tales and Greek myths of yore is the silent exclusion of half of our population.
(Fies, Elizabeth. “Feminist Role Model.” Catwoman: The Creation of a Twentieth Century Goddess.Batmedia, 2001.)
Originally comics were bought by almost as many females as males, so economics does not explain the lack of female representation in the DC universe. Unlike societies that told tales of Hera, Diana, the Amazons, Boudicca, Judith, Matilda, Cleopatra, Inana, Jinga, Queen Elizabeth, Morgan, Joan of Arc, and many other strong women, as a culture Americans lacked the archetype of the Warrior Queen.
(Fies, Elizabeth. “Feminist Role Model.” Catwoman: The Creation of a Twentieth Century Goddess.Batmedia, 2001.)
Gillian Anderson (Dana Scully, The X-Files) in purple catsuit. Jesus wept.
The invention of Catwoman begat a new generation of powerful characters like Wonder Woman, Xena, and Agent Scully that may not have been heard without Selina’s birth in 1940.
(Fies, Elizabeth. “Feminist Role Model.” Catwoman: The Creation of a Twentieth Century Goddess.Batmedia, 2001.)
Originally posted with a few less pictures on September 29, 2009 at 4:58 pm.
A confession: I ♥ Irish boys. I don't care if they are actually, legitimately from Ireland in their own generation or of some murky Irish extraction and descent — it's like I have a natural magnetic draw to them.
“My Mom, she’s from Ireland, coached tennis in Nigeria when she was a Missionary and turned me on to it when I was young.
La la la, “from Ireland,” la la la, “missionary,” la la la, “turned on.” That’s what I heard. Heyo!
The Tao of Steve (Jenniphr Goodman, 2000). Please note Guinness harp tattoo.
The first role in which I ever saw Donal Logue (that I knew of at the time) was as sexy genius mathematician Gunter Janek in the film Sneakers (Phil Alden Robinson, 1992), who is first shown giving a lecture but later ends up banging a hot slavic blonde chick on a desk in grainy but glorious black and white. Wowee! I, too, flip for geeks, and did from the earliest age, so I hella dug that scene (I’m kind of a voyeur from way back; try to think of it as a charmingly quaint quality rather than a creepy one) and I am not ashamed to admit that it stuck with me for years. Here he is as Gunter Janek rocking a number theory lecture on codebreaking:
“Once a film is made and it exists, someone somewhere is going to watch it and that is kind of the magic of it all.”
Yes, I’d call that desk sex scene some undeniable Hollywood magic from that there ol’ Dream Factory. Thank you to everyone involved in bringing that to life, you have my gratitude forever, all of you! Truly.
At the Los Angeles premiere of DreamWorks’ Monsters vs. Aliens, 2009.
Next, Donal turned up for me in “Squeeze,” the first Eugene Tooms episode of the X-Files. You know, the liver-eating dude with the yellow eyes and the bendy-flexi skeleton? Semi-immortal (time will tell) and came back later in the series? Donal Logue played Agent Tom Colter, Scully’s colleague who calls her in on the Tooms case to begin with, and looks mighty hot doin’ it.
Agent Tom Colton: Okay, if he wants to come and do you a favor, great. But make sure he knows this is my case. Dana, if I can break a case like this one, I’ll be getting my bump up the ladder. And you, maybe you won’t have to be Mrs. Spooky any more.
(“Squeeze.” The X-Files, Season One, Episode 3. Original air date September 24, 1993.)
He’s done a string of wonderful movie parts and television appearances, so many that I think I just may have to continue this another day! I will leave you with the following shots to titillate you.
This is the first time I’ve ever been jealous of the company Kelly Ripa keeps…
“I’m not a comic book guy. I’m pretty fascinated with the subculture though and I do think that the world of comic books is such a natural transition into film.”
You’d think I’d be sorry to hear that he is not a guy who is much of a one for comics, but I could not care less. Donal, I forgive you. You go ahead and star in any movie you like, comic-based or not. I am helpless to resist buying a ticket. Eskimo kisses!
During the 2006 Austin Film Festival, catching up on some King of the Hill.
When I overhauled my life last year, I discovered that I am not a big guy for the television (except for 30 Rock, though even that I just periodically catch up on using the hulu), so I — without fanfare or officialdom but just mainly and casually — quit it nearly altogether in favor of holing up under the covers with a book or lurking in the batcave on the computer. However, the one show I stopped watching but have never stopped thinking about is Lost, the final episode of which airs tonight.
Nevermind the crisp and bullocks. Give me that rum. Mmm — Dharma Initiative-y.
I’ve mainly kept up this year and now I find myself looking down the barrel of the final episode. The thing is, almost literally everything in my life has changed since I first heard about and, a few months later when it premiered, began watching this show. I mean everything. Like, other than my gender, I have changed pretty much every other aspect of my life. I’ve had a child, earned a degree, married, moved, moved again, split up, shook up, sometimes I even throw up, overhauled career and self, set new goals, I mean, jeebus — I’ve been all over the map physically and emotionally since I first tuned in to this program.
L to R: Almanzo Wilder, Nellie Olson, and Laura Ingalls “Half-Pint” Wilder.
(Not pictured in the above shot: Velociraptor cyborgs and the ghost of Abraham Lincoln’s clone. Yes, clone — the Good One. The Evil One went rogue and was shot by government agent and island native John Wilkes Boothe. Oh, historical snap! Eventually they killed the Good One too and his ghost haunts the island now because it is all just Agent Mulder’s dream.) I remember one time a friend telling me that he’d hit rock bottom and I agreed I’d done the same — but we also concurred that suicide was for neither of us an option because then we would never know what happens on the last episode of Lost. Does Gilligan pick Ginger? Or Mary Anne?? Aw, just kiddin’, rabid Losties. He picks the Skipper, duh!
Who is a pretty princess?? Daniel Faraday is a pretty princess! I ♥ this character in an embarassing way, the sort of way for which I would mercilessly mock others.
It is sobering to consider how different a person I am now than I was when this interest began. I cannot even begin to count the ways, and it’s actually starting to freak me out. So now I am preparing to throw on pyjamas, pick up pepperoni pizza, and slide on down to Gorgeous George’s with the kidlet to watch the finale of Lost, and, in a wider sense, take another step toward closing what has been a very tumultuous chapter in my life.
Catch you on the flip side. (“See you in another life, brutha.”)
Spoiler: I can’t believe Darth Vader is Charles Widmore’s father.
While investigating a series of bizarre exsanguinations in the sleepy town of Chaney, Texas, about 50 miles south of Dallas, Mulder kills a teenage boy wearing fake vampire fangs, whom he “mistakes” for a vampire by pounding a stake through the boy’s heart.
The young man’s family is now suing the FBI for $446 million, and Mulder and Scully are brought before FBI Director Walter Skinner to tell their versions of what happened. Prior to making their reports, Mulder and Scully attempt to get their stories “straight” by relating to each other their differing versions of what happened during their investigation.
Sheriff Hartwell: You really know your stuff, Dana.
(Dreamy music. Scully smiles goofily and the scene shifts back to real time)
Mulder: Pffft! Wh–? “Dana?!”
Mulder: He didn’t even know your first name.
Scully: (pause) … You gonna interrupt me or what?
Mulder: Oh, no-no. You go ahead … Dana.
Scully: Mulder, are you okay?
Mulder: [drugged] “Who’s the black private dick who’s a sex machine with all the chicks? Shaft! Can you dig it? They say this cat Shaft is a bad mother —
Guest stars were Luke Wilson (Home Fries, Legally Blonde, The Royal Tenenbaums, Old School, bloated phone commercials that remind me that age comes inevitably for us all, and that ripening is not always kind even to handsome Hollywood guys you once wanted to boff that you thought would stay hot forever) as Sheriff Lucius Hartwell and Patrick Renna (“Ham” in The Sandlot!) as Ronnie Strickland.
Mulder: It’s all true.
Scully: Except for the part about the buck teeth.
(repeated line): I was drugged.
Gillian Anderson voted this her favorite episode of all time.
You’re only given as much as you can handle at any given time. Whether it’s true or not, it gives you the strength.
The fears that live inside of us, whatever they are, and however they manifest, prevent us from living our highest potential, as individuals, and as contributors to the human race. If we consciously and vigilantly transmute those fears through compassion for others, and for ourselves, we will know what it is to live a peaceful existence on this planet.
I truly believe that we can overcome any hurdle that lies before us and create the life we want to live. I have seen it happen time and time again.
Maybe it’s just me and I’ve watched too many James Bond films in my life (oh, my god, like that’s possible), but does anyone else automatically bump Eastern European men and women a few points up the hotness scale? The accent, the Otherness of their features and upbringing, the idea of them maybe having done unspeakable things in desperate times — it’s all superhot spy-type shit. Maybe it’s some kind of residual Cold War “forbidden territory” thing, even? Anyways, I mention this by way of introducing Inga Drozdova, the lovely and talented Miss November, 1997, who has the distinction of being Playboy’s only Latvian Playmate of the Month to date.
Photographed by Arny Freytag
Ms. Drozdova was a pop star in Russia before coming to America. Please enjoy this cover of “Fever,” or “лихорадка ремикс,” as it is known in Mother Russia.
Inga Drozdova – Fever (Cover in Russian)
I’d say it is the worst thing I’ve ever heard, but I’ve heard Mia Farrow sing. Next to that, Ms. Drozdova’s arrangement and rendition of what until today was a song I thought could not go wrong is still a goddamned prize-winning operetta.
Conservatives back home may have rebelled against the new, Westernized Russia — the McDonaldsization of their motherland, they call it — but Inga embraces change, even personifies it. When she was a little girl there were no sex symbols in Russia. The only pin-ups were pictures of tractors. “I like the new way. I want to be a singer, an actress, a sexual woman and a businesswoman,” she says. (“From Moscow With Love,” Playboy, November 1997)
Thanks to the end of the Cold War we can finally introduce you to a Playmate whose turn-ons include both Pushkin and The X-Files. Only the bold appeals to Miss November, and that includes bold, handsome men of any nationality. “Men can be sexy, too,” she says.
Hell yeah, X-Files and sexy men! I like this chick.
“I’d like to pursue my science studies more, but there is so little time,” she says. Another subject that requires more study is the sort of man she wants. “Russian men, Australians, Americans — I don’t know who is best. I like them all.” Thus far, red-blooded Americans have responded to her the same way the Russian army did: with wide-eyed appreciation. “I am a noticeable person,” she says.
Inga owes her impeccable command of the English language to her years spent at the Moscow Linguistic University, where she majored in finance and business law. “My grades were nearly perfect. But then, I’m a perfectionist,” she says.
“Since my centerfold was successful in Russia, I wanted to do the American edition,” she says. “I am a Playboy fan.” On a recent visit to California she signed autographs in Hollywood — a wish come true for the former teen beauty queen from Latvia.
A confession: I ❤ Irish boys. I don't care if they are actually, legitimately from Ireland in their own generation or of some murky Irish extraction and descent — it's like I have a natural magnetic draw to them.
“My Mom, she’s from Ireland, coached tennis in Nigeria when she was a Missionary and turned me on to it when I was young.”
La la la, “from Ireland” la la la “turned on.” That’s what I heard. Heyo!
The first role in which I ever saw Donal Logue (that I knew of at the time) was as sexy genius mathematician Gunter Janek in the film Sneakers, who is first shown giving a lecture but later ends up banging a hot slavic blonde chick on a desk in grainy but glorious black and white. Wowee! I, too, flip for geeks, and did from the earliest age, so I hella dug that scene (I’m kind of a voyeur from way back; try to think of it as a charmingly quaint quality rather than a creepy one) and I am not ashamed to admit that it stuck with me for years. Here he is as Gunter Janek rocking a number theory lecture on codebreaking:
“Once a film is made and it exists, someone somewhere is going to watch it and that is kind of the magic of it all.”
Yes, I’d call that desk sex scene some undeniable Hollywood magic from that there ol’ Dream Factory. Thank you to everyone involved in bringing that to life, you have my gratitude forever, all of you! Truly.
Next, Donal turned up for me in “Squeeze,” the first Eugene Tooms episode of the X-Files, you know, with the liver-eating dude with the yellow eyes and the bendy-flexi skeleton? He played Agent Tom Colter, Scully’s colleague who calls her in on the case to begin with, and looks mighty hot doin’ it.
Agent Tom Colton: Okay, if he wants to come and do you a favor, great. But make sure he knows this is my case. Dana, if I can break a case like this one, I’ll be getting my bump up the ladder. And you, maybe you won’t have to be Mrs. Spooky any more. — The X-Files, “Squeeze,” 1993.
He’s done a string of wonderful movie parts and television appearances, so many that I think I just may have to continue this another day! I will leave you with the following shots to titillate you.
This is the first time I’ve ever been jealous of the company Kelly Ripa keeps…
“I’m not a comic book guy. I’m pretty fascinated with the subculture though and I do think that the world of comic books is such a natural transition into film.”
You’d think I’d be sorry to hear that he is not a guy who is much of a one for comics, but I could not care less. Donal, I forgive you. You go ahead and star in any movie you like, comic-based or not. I am helpless to resist buying a ticket. Eskimo kisses!
The Thought Experiment 