…Then Say Nothing At All

If you look at the covers of comic books of today, they are different from comics of the past in a lot of ways (higher prices, fewer pages of stories, more adult themes), but one thing stands out: the covers don’t have word balloons.  Evil villains aren’t calling out the heroes or threatening to rob the bank or blow up a building or rule the world, the pictures say it all.  Well, almost all since we still have story titles and maybe a mention of what multi-part crossover the comic is a part of, but almost no word balloons.

Glancing at the covers of the comics from the last month on our wall I could only spot one comic from Marvel or DC that had a word balloon on it, and that was an issue where a monster bellowed out, “You want some’a this, Santa?!” as he tried to squeeze the life out of Flash.

Comics release on Wednesdays each week, but good little comic stores that have been following the rules (and paying an extra $4 a week) get their comics on Tuesdays so they have time to sort and pull the comics (and it’s entirely possible that *ahem* some of us may also have the time to do some “research” into the weekly stories).  I separate the comics by title and put them into bags and boards (possibly after “researching” the titles that beg to be read) and I couldn’t help but notice that at least three DC titles, one DC variant cover, and one Marvel cover all had word balloons on them.


Not counting urging us to buy bonds or support the war efforts, fewer than a half-dozen Batman comics had word balloons on the cover in the first 65 or so issues, after which somebody decided readers needed to have “talkies.”  I vividly remembered lots of word balloons in DC comics of the fifties and late sixties, but some quick browsing revealed that when Marvel started publishing superhero comics again in the early sixties they didn’t use word balloons very much, just like in the 1940s.  What was noticeable about the silver age Marvel comics of the middle sixties was how awesome they looked without a word balloon screaming, “If I don’t stop that monster, the entire lake will go dry!”  Fantastic Four comics from issue 21 to 98 and Spider-Man covers from 8 to 85 and X-Men covers from 1 to 64 had no word balloons at all.  Sure, there were lots of boxes screaming things like “Face Front, True Believers!” and “The Inhumans Are Coming To Dinner!” but as often as not there was just artwork telling us a story.

Sure, a few of the Flash comics in 1959 were balloon-less, but on the whole Batman and Superman and the JLA all had villains or sidekicks to talk to…and sometimes Batman and Flash spoke directly to the reader (don’t let anybody tell you Deadpool started that!)  Perhaps as a result of Marvel’s success, DC word balloons became scare in the middle sixties, but by the end of the decade there were word balloons everywhere again, and they ruled the roost for years.  And then…comics were wordless again.  The last time anybody had something to say on the cover of a Batman issue was #398, back in 1986.  Apparently companies had rediscovered the power of a well-drawn cover.

So are the few covers with word balloons this week a hint of things to come, an experiment to see if they help sales, or simply a coincidence?  Only time will tell.

From superheroes to a supergroup – here’s Asia drawing the same conclusion:

Why All The Music?

By now you probably noticed that I seem to end each entry with yet another video, but to anybody who knows me it probably isn’t too much of a surprise.  Many of my earliest memories are attached to Radio, which has always been within reach.

In the early fifties (yes, before Rock and Roll) my parents would put me to bed with the sounds of the Make Believe Ballroom coming out of a huge radio.  The music was hit records from the late forties and the early fifties, and being too young to know any better the host of the show had me totally convinced that the big bands and singers were actually there in the studio.  I can vividly remember the night I changed the dial around, found Little Richard screaming about Molly, and got up and danced around the room.  Shortly thereafter I was put to bed downstairs without a radio.  Within a year WMCA and WABC were playing that new Rock and Roll, and I was there with them.  Throughout elementary and high school I used the radio to drown out my brothers while I did homework or read books, and when I went off to Nashville to go to college I ended up as a disk jockey doing a Saturday night oldies show.  Over the next decade, while I was busy learning to program computers, I also spent time helping program various radio show playlists.

And then the fun was over, but the radio was still there.  Even better, we had a show called Popclips on fledgling cable TV and later I got to go to a local bar when I watched the birth of MTV.

We can all think back and remember songs that were playing at specific events, or the time we heard some songs for the first time, but I think our memories are even stronger than that.  I can’t name all the small countries around the Horn of Africa anymore, but I can recite all the lyrics to Toto’s Africa.  I’m not sure about the names of all the rivers in Europe, but it appears I know the words to Emotion better than Mariah.  I don’t remember the main export of Argentina, but I tap along with most of the drum solo in Ina-Gadda-Da-Vida on the table in front of me without missing too many notes.  Somehow our brains seem to permanently store music-related information better than other information and we get better recall as well.

And sometimes I find myself humming or singing a song that has lyrics that reveal something about how I’m feeling or what I should do when I’m not paying enough attention to some part of my mind that has answers I don’t even know I’m looking for yet.

We really don’t understand how music fits into our minds, but I’m glad it does.

Today’s music clip is a live version of a song that I never heard on the radio, but certainly remember from the live version I found years after it came and went:

What We Hold On To

Habits.  We take them for granted, but there are valid reasons for them.

Some don’t seem very important: I make the bed every morning, but I’m sure the bed and bedding will all be there when I get home again.

Some seem very  important: I take my blood pressure pills (almost) every morning when I finish eating a banana that I share with our bunny.

Some may or may not seem important: I usually park in the same space when I get to the store in the morning – a space that’s not too close to the building (I don’t want a bunch of bozos parking near my car and smacking it when they open their doors)  but still close enough that I can see the car from my desk (it’s right over there =>).  [wow, four punctuation characters in a row, a new record!]  Makes it easier to find my car when it’s time to leave, so that’s an important habit once a day when it gets dark and it’s time to go home.

Some seem to be tied into our very being and we can’t give them up: two spaces after a period at the end of a sentence when publishers want only one.

Some don’t seem very important, but save us from annoying disruptions, and usually they become so ingrained that we take them for granted.  Until there’s another disruption.

Yesterday morning I was eating a blueberry muffin, and while I was chewing I sensed something solid in my mouth that was not munching the way a muffin should.  I spit out the mass of half-eaten muffiney goodness and found one of my crowns had some off.  Since it was Monday, January second, pretty much everybody was taking the day off, especially dentists.  A few quick calls revealed my local dentist office was opening up at 8 am Tuesday, so I closed the drain in the sink and washed the crown off, placed it in a large baggie and put it on a plate on my desk (no need to risk the cost, delay, and misery of replacing a crown).

Normally I get up somewhere between 8:30 and 9:00 (or 9:30 or…) but last night I set the alarm for 7 am, and then this morning after it went off I half-listened to the television news for twenty minutes (hey, I knew I would, that’s why I didn’t set the alarm for 7:15) and finally got up.  As usual I ate something and took my pills (check!), although I drank breakfast instead of eating a banana…the bunny looked very disappointed.  Halfway through my nutritious, allegedly delicious protein shake I took my pills (check!), made the bed (check!), brushed my teeth (check!) and put on deodorant (check!), got dressed and headed out to the car to drive to the store and pick up the crown.  Halfway to my next stop, it hit me – um, shouldn’t I have shaved?   Too late now.  That should have been a warning that it was a disruptive morning.

Next stop, gas for the car.  Thanks to a few gift cards that I bought as Christmas gifts I was looking at 70 cents per gallon discount on gas at our local grocery store, and I had passed up the chance to fill up the night before so that I could use up more gas and save as much as possible on a fill-up.  Pulled in, ran my card through, filled up, and drove off.  I picked up the crown and headed to the dentist’s office, arriving a miraculous two minutes before eight, just as I had planned (instead of being late as usual).

They promised to fit me in at 9, and I headed back to the car so I could get back to the store, completely convinced that I could pick out a topic and knock out a blog entry before the appointment.

And discovered that I had left the gas cap somewhere on the road.  Sigh.  I hadn’t done that since I started driving my pinto in 1971 and learned the hard way that the new concept of self service at gas stations required a little more work than I had imagined.  I stopped at an auto parts store and picked up a replacement gas cap (after first answering about a half-dozen questions about my car so they could pick out the right cap…wouldn’t it make more sense that one size fits all?  Apparently not.

So no matter how hard we work at habits, it turns out that just a little disruption can throw our patterns off, and there’s no telling how much work it will take to make up for even a single change.  If only we could find small disruptions that would make it easier to drop bad habits!

Here’s Chicago, hoping that some habits would just go away without any work: