Why You Need A Badge At A Convention

Want to hear an apocryphal story that’s actually a true story?  I’ve got one that deals with badges.

Back when Science Fiction conventions were small, or later when Comic Book conventions were one large room full of people selling comic books, badges weren’t necessary.  Either everybody knew everybody or membership only covered going into the dealers’ room and wandering around.  For Science Fiction conventions badges were already necessary by the late-sixties, but some comic book shows still don’t require them.

Any show with multiple rooms probably requires badges because otherwise a lot of people won’t pay to get in.  The ever-increasing costs of running a convention made it necessary to add the expense of creating badges for everybody.  The rarity and expense of badges at some shows (I’m looking at you, San Diego!) have led to some enhancements on the badges, such as bar codes.  Some conventions now even require photo ids to be carried at all times so the convention can scan the badge and compare the info to the photo id and confiscate the badge if it’s being “shared” by more than one person.  It appears that in modern times we do need our stinking badges.

Since the purpose of a badge is to “encourage” attendees to actually pay to get into the rooms, conventions found it necessary to have guards posted at the doors to some of the rooms.  Which rooms are guarded varies by convention, but you can usually count on the dealers’ room and the main programming room to have guards on duty most of the time.

The 1986 World Science Fiction Convention was held in Atlanta.  It’s tradition at WorldCons that the only people getting in for free are the guests of honor (the main guest at Confederation was Ray Bradbury) and maybe the toastmaster.  Everybody else is running around with a badge to prove they belong there.  The convention sprawled through two hotels since neither one of them was large enough for the convention, and that made checking badges more important than usual.  It was common in Southern conventions at the time that I was on the con committee with the assignment of overseeing gaming (role-playing games like Dungeons and Dragons and some board games).  As to be expected, I didn’t have guards posted to “protect” the integrity of the gaming area.

My wife at the time, Kathy, was left with little to do during most of the convention.  She didn’t read much science fiction or fantasy so the panels weren’t of much interest to her. I sent her to the Gophers room where she volunteered to help out.  Somehow she got assigned to help guard one of the entrances to the dealers’ room, and she was given a chair and told to make sure that everybody who tried to come into the room had a badge.

An elderly gray-haired gentleman with prominent dark horn-rimmed glasses but no badge came up to the entrance and started to enter, and Kathy jumped up to defend the convention’s honor.  She informed the man that he needed a badge to enter the room, and there were gasps of horror from his companions – it was the convention’s guest of honor, Ray Bradbury.  There was much confusion as the entourage did their best to override the poor distressed guard, but Ray laughed and gave her a hug.  He told her it was okay, that she was just doing her job.

The story spread around like wildfire, and two of my friends who were dealers that sold round badges with witty sayings on them (Scott and Jane Dennis) made a special badge for Kathy.  The badge simply said, “Bradbury Schmadbury, you still need a badge!”

Kathy seemed to have a good time at the convention in spite of that unfortunate run-in with Fandom royalty.  She rode back home on the airplane fighting tears and clutching a single rose that somebody gave her.  Our marriage didn’t last too much longer after that, but the breakup had nothing to do with Kathy blocking access to the dealers’ room.  At least I don’t think it did.

I’ve since heard the story retold numerous times by people who weren’t there and didn’t even know Kathy and certainly didn’t know my part in the drama.  The stories they tell are like a game of telephone: there might be a kernel of truth in their version, but it usually wasn’t close to the actual events.  It leaves me very suspicious of history books written decades later that aren’t first-person contemporaneous accounts of events.

For one of the most influential bands of the sixties, Cream had remarkably little impact on Top 40 radio.  Sunshine of Your Love and White Room both reached the top ten, but after that, it was all downhill.  Crossroads only got up to 17, and their last single to get into the Hot 100 only made it up to #65.  That single was appropriately (and accidentally) named Badge.

Is Something Missing In Your Home?

Something not around when you look for it?  Blame Millennials.

I’m talking about soap.  Oh, it’s not that Millenials don’t want to get clean, they just don’t seem to like bars of soap.

My earliest memories of soap and shampoo go back to bath time as a kid.  Probably every household at that time had Johnson and Johnson’s baby shampoo because of their No More Tears claim.  The claim turned out to be a valid one!  Their baby shampoo was introduced in 1953 and has dominated sales of baby shampoos ever since.  That product was made with some alternative to tranditional soap and has controlled over 75% of the baby shampoo sales and since 1959 the phrase No More Tears has been trademarked.

Bars of soap are a different story.  Our bathtubs had the soap my mother preferred, a slightly perfumed pink bar of soap from Camay.  That all changed, however, the year I was old enough to go off to camp.

The latter half of the fifties we lived in Syosset, a small village near the north shore of Long Island that bordered the Nassau-Suffolk county line about half-way across the island.  Parksville, New York was located off route 17 in upstate New York, just south of the Catskill mountains (and not too far from Woodstock!)  Camp Townsend was on Hunter Lake, just a few miles north of Parksville.  The camp was owned and operated by a Presbyterian church in Middletown, a larger town less than an hour south.  For the princely sum of $40 or $45 a week kids could spend two to six weeks at the camp.  The camp had been around since the 1930s and was used primarily by members of the Middletown church who sent about 40-60 kids there each Summer (although it appears that the camp was used on weekends and some special occasions as well).  Somehow one or more kids from Syosset went to the camp in 1955, and they had such a good time that word spread in the village.  In just a few short years an influx of campers from Syosset started attending the camp, swelling the short-term population to nearly 100 campers.

It was primitive.  Campers stayed in cabins that had a single line of electricity for a light bulb on the ceiling, but the cabins were hardly sealed.  Water didn’t get inside when it rained, but instead of windows, there were a few four-foot panels that opened up and could be held in place by two by fours attached to the posts between the panels.  There was running water for a fountain near the camp director’s cabin and in the dining hall, but no toilets.  We had two large, enclosed latrines instead of toilets (one on the girls’ side of the camp and a second one behind the boys’ cabins).  Once or twice a week a local farmer came and emptied out the latrines (just like in the movie Woodstock).

There were no showers.  Doesn’t that sound like a recipe for ripe smelly campers? Fortunately, the camp had a solution for that problem: soap swims.  In spite of some pretty cold mornings (the camp was close to the mountains), we had one or two required swims and two more optional general swims each day.  On Tuesdays and Thursdays, the required swims were special: they were soap swims.  Each camper had to bring a bar of soap down to the lake and wash off.  I’m pretty sure that practice would lead to panic in the streets now (think of the environment!), but the small number of campers probably had little impact on a lake that size.  There is one potential problem with a soap swim: most soap sinks in water.  The camp did their best to make sure campers only brought one kind of soap with them: Ivory Soap.

Proctor and Gamble always advertised Ivory Soap as being 99 and 44/100ths percent pure, and I had always assumed that was the reason it floated.  Not true!  It turns out that the company figured out how to make floating soap back in 1863, and it started selling the floating soap to consumers in 1879.  The trick was to cook up the soap and mix air bubbles into the batter before it hardens.  This made the soap lighter than water, and also makes it fun to cook Ivory Soap in a microwave.

Requiring Ivory soap allowed the camp to avoid the misery of searching the bottom of the lake for misplaced bars of soap.  It had an additional effect on me.  For the first time when I took a bath, I didn’t come out smelling perfumy.  From that moment on I somehow associated Ivory soap with being clean, and was careful to take my precious bar of soap home with me when camp ended.  It took some whining, but my mother eventually started keeping floating soap in our bathrooms.  It probably helped that the soap floated during bath time; Camay sank like a rock, and that meant searching under the soap suds to find it.  Oh, I didn’t mention how easily you could create a bubble bath by simply holding soap under the water while the filling up the tub?

Bathrooms back then also had bars of soap next to the sink for washing hands, a ritual that preceded meals.  Not so much anymore.  I’m not sure when it started, but slowly public bathrooms replaced bars of soap with dispensers that produce liquid soap on demand.  Perhaps it was because it was cheaper or perhaps because it stopped people from stealing bars of soap, but we’ve reached the point where the only bars of soap that are left are in the homes of old people: Millenials apparently consider used soap to be covered with germs, and they don’t want to touch used soap.

While this may seem almost laughable to older folks, I can remember times when I went into gas station bathrooms and one look at the dirty, dingy soap prevented me from washing up so I can sympathize with their point of view.

It’s not just Millenials anymore – both of our bathrooms at home now have liquid or foam soap dispensers (thanks, Bevie).  We do, however, still have bars of soap in the shower, but we are nearly in the minority now.  In a recent year, sales of bars of soap were down 2.2% while sales of liquid soap were up over 10%.  64% of the population still uses bars soap, but the number of households with bars of soap dropped nearly 5% last year!

The news is even sadder for Ivory soap – sales of my favorite floating soap now make up barely 5% of bar soap sales.  Dove, a soap that like baby shampoo is made from ingredients different from traditional soap )and that also contains one-quarter cleansing cream), now controls over 21% of the bar soap market, and the next few brands are all deodorant soaps of one sort or another.  Camay has nearly disappeared from store shelves and is now sold primarily online, controlling barely 2% of the bar soap market.

It isn’t time to hoard bars of soap yet, but we are getting closer.  Back in 1961 liquid soap wasn’t even a thing yet, and the Jarmels reached #12 with their one and only chart record, A Little Bit Of Soap.

How Jerry Lewis Helped Andy Kaufman Become a Star

Jerry Lewis started his career with what was (at the time) an unusual act.  He would set up a record player on stage and lip sync to records.  The act depended on physical comedy with Jerry making faces and over-exaggerated movements.  He started doing that act as a teenager in the early forties and was struggling to create a successful comedy act in small clubs.  Here’s a clip of him doing that on television in 1951 on the Colgate Comedy Hour.

Dean Martin, meanwhile, was appearing at similar small clubs singing and wasn’t doing much better than Jerry.  The two teamed up and did a poor job their first night together, but the second night they came up with an idea for an act: Dean would sing on stage and Jerry would bumble around in the audience, pretending to be an incompetent waiter.  Well, maybe pretending.  The audience ate it up, and in no time at all, they were ad-libbing and improvising and singing and playing in large clubs.  And movies.  And on television.  They attracted crowds outside their hotel the likes of which wouldn’t be seen again until Elvis or the Beatles came to town.  And then they couldn’t stand each other’s company and the duo split and didn’t even speak to each other for over 20 years.

Dean went on to surprise everybody by having a brilliant career in movies and tv and more than a few hit records.  Jerry surprised nobody by having a career in movies but turned out to be what many (especially the French) considered a brilliant director.

What many don’t realize is how their record career started.  We’ll get back to that.

Andy Kaufman was not in any way a traditional comedian.  He was doing performance art before the term was even created.  It is difficult, even now, to get people to agree on when he was acting, when he was serious, and when he was simply out of control.  His appearances on Fridays, his wrestling career, and his apparent injuries on the Letterman all provide evidence for arguing any side of the debate over his intentions at any time.  One thing is clear, however: his breakthrough came on Saturday Night Live.  It was there most of us first saw him set up a record player, put on the Mighty Mouse song, and lip sync to “Here I come to save the day!”  Yes, his initial act was swiped from Jerry Lewis!  Feel free to argue about whether Andy researched Jerry’s act before he did it himself.

I grew up on Long Island in the mid-fifties, and we at the time we had an advantage most of the rest of the country envied: our television antennas could pick up channels 2, 4, 5, 7, 8, 9,11, and 13 while most towns had only 2 or 3 or maybe 4 channels.  In 1956 one of the non-network channels broadcast a local telethon where Jerry Lewis did his best to raise money to fight muscular dystrophy.

There was a large number of local television channels in the 1950s in New York.  Combine that with the small number of network programs and it meant that a lot of movies and early television show reruns were on all the time.  I was probably familiar with many of the early Martin and Lewis movies as a result and recognized Jerry Lewis immediately.

After watching him whine for hours, my best friend Jimmy and I went around the neighborhood and collected about $12 by going door to door and asking people for money to help Jerry.  The show was broadcast only in New York, and it didn’t raise a massive amount of money, but it did raise enough that the next year they did it again.  That time I got a special cup and a letter in the mail from Jerry asking for our help again.  Jimmy and I and my younger brother Jon went around the neighborhood collecting money again early Sunday morning, and two memories stand out:

  • After a half hour or so we forgot what we were collecting the money for.  We racked our brains and walked up and down the sidewalk until we finally remembered.
  • When we were about finished with the blocks around us, we came to a house where a woman got very angry with us!  It turned out that she had been at church while we were busy collecting money.  She had also gotten a letter from Jerry and had planned to go around the neighborhood after lunch.  We had spoiled her day and cost Jerry money by collecting money first.  After that, we just went home.

In those early years, the telethons featured a lot of old vaudeville performers most viewers barely recognized, but as time went on a lot of current acts showed up as well.

One act, in particular, stands out.  At least once an hour the tot board that recorded the total money pledged and collected would be updated, and Jerry usually announced the new number as it was shown.  Chubby Checker had a major dance hit with the Twist, and quite often an announcer would remind the audience that Chubby would be there to sing later.  When a new total failed to get the cheers Jerry wanted, he reannounced the total not as a zillion dollars, but as a zillion Chubby Checkers.  The crowd screamed.

In 1966 the telethons became an annual national broadcast, and Jerry went on to raise billions of dollars to help fund treatments for muscular dystrophy.  And then the organization decided it didn’t need Jerry anymore.  The telethons don’t seem to be around now.

I’ve been to countless movies through the years and I’ve often had to wait in long lines to get into to some of the hot new movies.  I can remember any number of times where I had to wander around nearly full theaters looking for a place to sit.  I can only identify one time where my mother dropped my brothers and me at a movie theater and we didn’t get in: Jerry Lewis in Visitor to a Small Planet in 1960.  Getting in touch with my mother and convincing her to drive back for us was a challenge in pre-cell phone days.

Dean and Jerry even got their own comic book from DC comics, The Adventures of Dean Martin And Jerry Lewis from 1952 to 1957.  After the duo broke up that comic was canceled, but The Adventures of Jerry Lewis took its place and continued until 1971.

Back in 1925, At least five different orchestras recorded the song That Certain Party.  It was a fox trot that usually started as an instrumental and then went into mild comedy lyrics.  The Ted Lewis Orchestra had the biggest hit with the record, reaching #8 in whatever passed for charts in 1926.  The song was revived and taken into the top 10 in the Summer of 1948 by Benny Strong, and also covered that year by several others at the same time.  Doris Day even did a duet version with Buddy Clark.  Dean had been singing for years but hadn’t yet recorded any successful records.  The real surprise?  His first chart single was a duet with Jerry, not a solo hit!  Their cover of That Certain Party in November 1948 was typical of their act.  Dean singing with Jerry being Jerry, and in spite of leaving out some of the comic lyrics and adding some strange mumbling from Jerry, the record managed to sneak up to number 22 on the charts for a week.

Dean went on to have several number 1 hits and a top 20 record each year for over a decade, but Jerry only got onto the record charts one more time.  Al Jolson had a number one hit with Rockabye Your Baby With A Dixie Melody in 1918, and when Jerry performed the song live in 1956 the audience response in Las Vegas was solid.  Jerry went on to record his own version of the song and managed to hit #10 on the charts shortly thereafter.  His son, Gary, had a number of hit records on his own in the sixties, and even did a parody version of Time Stands Still that sounded a lot like Jerry.

Have Some Help With Life’s Problems!

Rewriting modern life’s little atrocities one rant at a time…

Do everyday annoyances make you want to tear out what’s left of your hair? Author and comic book store owner Rembert N Parker feels your pain, and he’s here to give you a piece of his mind.

Resisting the Challenges of the 21st Century – How Much Extra Is No Cheese is a reservoir of essays, insights, and anecdotes from a true contender for the World’s Most Interesting Man. With dry wit and hilarious adages, Parker tackles an eclectic mix of topics from Academy Award mistakes to using sci-fi principles on Supreme Court decisions (and everything in between).

In this book, you’ll discover:

  • How to spend other people’s money and make a billion dollars
  • Why killing off characters may be the wrong way to add diversity to comics
  • How the Mandela Effect convinced millions that Paul McCartney was dead
  • Why you should blame Skynet for airline seat musical chairs
  • How to deal with the soul-destroying need to pay for cheese you don’t want, and much, much more!

With a wide-ranging mix of rants on pop culture, politics, and coping with the present, Parker’s personal stories show you how to conquer problems with poise. Using Parker’s toolbox of humor, irony, and common sense, you too can take on any challenge.

Resisting the Challenges of the 21st Century is a must-read collection of hilarious essays. If you like observational humor, expanding your point-of-view, and an in-depth look at the past, present, and future, then you’ll love Rembert N Parker’s side-splitting stories.

Buy Resisting the Challenges of the 21st Century on Amazon today:
https://www.amazon.com/dp/B073772XQ3/

10 Songs From the Seventies That Have Been Buried in the Sands of Time

One of the problems with modern “oldies” stations is simple: an hour of music never sounds the same as an hour of music did way back when. While the big hits keep playing over and over (and over and…), all the records that only dented the charts and got airplay for just a few weeks are gone. Also, when some groups later hit it big, their early songs were left off oldies playlists to make room for the big, big smash hits!

Sigh.

Here, in absolutely no particular order, are ten records that I remember well but don’t remember the radio playing in a long, long time. It’s likely nobody else remembers all these records, but it’s worth your time to give a listen to any that don’t sound familiar.

[1] The Entertainer by Billy Joel. I had seen posters for the musical group the Hassles back when I lived in Syosset (home of Christiano’s Italian restaurant) and went to Cold Spring Harbor High School, so I was aware of Billy Joel the first time he released an album. I wasn’t too impressed with his first album but played Piano Man from his second album on my radio show numerous times. When his third album came out Billy made it clear that he was cynical about the music business.  Nothing made this clearer than The Entertainer, a song that only made it up to #34 in 1974. I played that a lot on my show as well.  I couldn’t help but smile at his complaint about the record company cutting Piano Man down to 3:05 minutes – long records were not a problem on campus radio.

[2] Like A Sunday In Salem by Gene Cotton. If the name Gene Cotton is familiar to you at all it’s probably because of a pair of singles in 1978: Before My Heart Finds Out and You’re a Part of Me, a duet with Kim Carnes.  His third single that year got enormous airplay on album-oriented rock stations, reached #40 on the US charts, and then vanished without a trace.  The record seems to be about the blacklisting in the early 1950s and is often referred to as The Amos and Andy song because of one of the lyrics: “There was an Amos and Andy on the radio.”  We’ll talk about his UK-only single some other time.

[3] Celluloid Heroes by the Kinks.  Most of the oldies by the Kinks that get airplay are their guitar-heavy singles from the sixties.  Mostly forgotten are the biting commentary songs like Dedicated Follower Of Fashion and Sunny Afternoon.  Lola still gets airplay, but only after a small change to the lyrics.  1972’s Celluloid Heroes was a different animal – a nostalgic look at the cinematic heroes that dot the street of Hollywood Boulevard.  The video I have linked in does an impressive job of fitting the mood of the song.

[4] Avenging Annie by Andy Pratt.  Andy somehow mixed classical piano with hard rock and came up with his one claim to fame in 1973.  The record is meant to be a first-person account of living with an outlaw as told by his girlfriend, so Andy did his best falsetto when he sang on the record.  The release only got up to #78, but later the song was also recorded by Roger Daltry of the Who.

[5] Dialog by Chicago.  Early Chicago albums had the group experimenting with long-form music, most notably Ballet For A Girl From Buchanan, a series of connected songs running over 12 minutes.  Dialog on their fifth album was over 7 minutes long, but their record company cut it down to 3:02 (no surprise here, it was the same record company that chopped up Billy Joel’s song!)  The song managed to get up to #24 by presenting a series of questions and answers with a college student.  Somehow the record anticipated today’s special college snowflakes back in 1972.

[6] You Owe It To Me by Natchez Trace live at the Exit / In.  Warning: the first 15 seconds of the video suffer from tape problems; just keep listening!  Unless you lived near Nashville you aren’t likely to be familiar with this record, but those of us who did were lucky enough to hear it off and on from 1971 or so until the end of the decade.  Legend has it that Dan Fogelberg is playing piano on this live recording, but he was unable to record the song later on because of legal tangles.  This is the only surviving copy of the song that I’m aware of, and it was a thrill to find it again.

[7] Gimme Your Money Please by Bachman-Turner Overdrive.  BTO came out of the remains of the Guess Who, and this was the first song on their first album.  The single release and the album went nowhere.  The group toured as the warm-up act for the Doobie Brothers, and that influenced the material on their second album, leading to hits like Let It Ride and Taking Care of Business.  Their third album had their biggest hit, You Ain’t Seen Nothing Yet, and when they finally had a greatest hits album their record company re-released Gimme Your Money Please – but it only made it up to #70.

[8] Colorado by Danny Holien.  The single was released in 1972, but perhaps it was too folky to get much airplay on Top 40 radio.  The record did manage to sneak onto the charts, topping out at #66.  The song is a plea for Colorado to avoid the fate of California, a prescient view of how things have turned out for Denver.  The video takes us on a tour of some of the better landscapes in the state.

[9] Dear Abby by John Prine.  John’s first album may have been the peak of his career.  It contained the ironic song Illegal Smile (about pot smoking), the tragically sad song Sam Stone (about an ex-soldier with a drug habit), and a half-dozen excellent songs.  His second album was a disappointment, but his third album finally moved him into commercial success.  He tried recording Dear Abby in the studio, but it never sounded quite right.  When he did the song live at a show he was fortunate enough to have it recorded, and the live version apparently sounded the way he heard it in his head and gives us the most fun song on this list.

[10] Soldier in the Rain by England Dan & John Ford Coley.  The duo released a string of records that were moderate hits on the regular pop charts, but four of their singles (mostly melodic love songs) hit number 1 on the adult contemporary charts.  Soldier in the Rain was a track on their second album that was quite different.  Soldiers returning from Vietnam faced a hostile public that blamed them instead of thanking them for their service, and this song expresses the feeling of loss that many of them faced.  I only heard the song on the radio a handful of times, but I never forgot it.

This list barely scratches the surface of lost songs, so I’ll probably have to add to it in the future.

The Strange Way An Eclipse Led to My First AD&D Publication

The first solar eclipse I remember occurred in July 1964 while I was in upstate New York at a Boy Scout camp.  We used paper plates to make pinhole cameras to view the eclipse.  Although it was only a partial eclipse, it was still exciting, and all activities at camp stopped when it started to get dark.

The next eclipse that was important to me came in 1983…on MTV.

We can start out with a copy of the book Rock Dreams in 1973.  The book contained a series of near-photo realistic paintings of various musicians at various times in their careers.  The book started with a picture of teenage idol Frank Sinatra in the 1940s and ended with a sad picture of a has-been musician and a quote from the Who – I won’t spoil the ending here.  One section of the book included pictures of some acts that the artist considered potential future stars, and he really nailed it with one picture: Jim Steinman and his pet, Meat Loaf.  It would be four years before Bat Out Of Hell became one of the best-selling albums of all time and made a megastar out of Meat Loaf.  Creation of the follow-up album started in 1979, but Meat Loaf developed vocal problems, and Steinman did his best to create the vocals for Bad For Good, and that album was shelved for a few years.  In 1981 The two of them worked together on Meat Loaf’s second album, Dead Ringer, but that album barely created any ripples in the US, and the tour planned to promote that album vanished without a trace.

No longer working directly with Meat Loaf, Steinman found new success in 1983 with multiple artists.  According to Wikipedia, Steinman offered two songs to Meat Loaf for his third album, but Meat Loaf’s record company refused to pay for the songs.  During 1983 Steinman instead worked with three other artists on those two songs as well as a remake of a third song that was originally done by Meatloaf on Dead Ringer.  Barry Manilow had a hit record and one of his best videos with a recording of Read Em And Weep, Air Supply had one of their biggest hits with Making Love Out Of Nothing At All, and Bonnie Tyler had her most successful single with Total Eclipse of the Heart.

Bonnie’s video for the record was set in what appears to be a private boys school for teenagers.  Similar to the film Village of the Damned, some of the boys had glowing eyes, and the video contained some scenes that implied, well, stranger things going on involving the students.  While I was already writing AD&D tournaments at that time, I didn’t immediately do anything with the ideas from the video.

Several years later I was running an AD&D campaign at a store in Austin, Texas.  The players had spent weeks participating in small adventures close to town, and I decided to force them to travel.  The party had dealt with the mayor a few times, and I simply added a son who was supposed to be at the Charleston Academy for Young Boys.  Without explanation, the son had come back home unexpectedly, and the mayor asked the party to escort him back to school.  I created a few encounters for the trip there, a secret romance, a mystery at the school, bullying, and special classes for future leaders.  I also introduced a new monster, a semi-lich, who was the big bad behind the problems at the school.  Almost none of that was in Bonnie’s video, but the idea of unexplained goings-on at a boys school had gestated in my brain for a few years.  I eventually used my notes from the campaign to create a tournament that TSR and the RPGA (Role Playing Game Association) used at numerous conventions, and the adventure was eventually included in issue 42 of Polyhedron magazine in 1988.  That was the first time any of my AD&D adventures was published!

The full eclipse in August 2017 has helped bring Bonnie Tyler back into the spotlight, and Carnival Cruise Lines has even scheduled a cruise where she will sing Total Eclipse of the Heart when the ship is affected by the eclipse.  In hopes of attracting more than just Baby Boomers to the trip, the cruise line is also bringing along the group DNCE to back her up on the song.

Here’s the original video.

Here’s Help Coping With Life’s Little Challenges!

Rewriting modern life’s little atrocities one rant at a time…

tiny 3d cheese

Do everyday annoyances make you want to tear out what’s left of your hair? Author and comic book store owner Rembert N Parker feels your pain, and he’s here to give you a piece of his mind.

Resisting the Challenges of the 21st Century – How Much Extra Is No Cheese is a reservoir of essays, insights, and anecdotes from a true contender for the World’s Most Interesting Man. With dry wit and hilarious adages, Parker tackles an eclectic mix of topics from Academy Award mistakes to using sci-fi principles on Supreme Court decisions (and everything in between).

In this book, you’ll discover:

  • How to spend other people’s money and make a billion dollars
  • Why killing off characters may be the wrong way to add diversity to comics
  • How the Mandela Effect convinced millions that Paul McCartney was dead
  • Why you should blame Skynet for airline seat musical chairs
  • How to deal with the soul-destroying need to pay for cheese you don’t want, and much, much more!

With a wide-ranging mix of rants on pop culture, politics, and coping with the present, Parker’s personal stories show you how to conquer problems with poise. Using Parker’s toolbox of humor, irony, and common sense, you too can take on any challenge.

Resisting the Challenges of the 21st Century is a must-read collection of hilarious essays. If you like observational humor, expanding your point-of-view, and an in-depth look at the past, present, and future, then you’ll love Rembert N Parker’s side-splitting stories.

Buy Resisting the Challenges of the 21st Century on Amazon for only 99 cents today: