I did the "walking tour" again through NYC this year for Free Comic Book Day - the promotion that entices people who usually never visit a comic book store to visit comic shops and get free books (maybe).
With each year, I find that my interests lie less in the free swag and more in sales and discounts (20%? Wow! That's sort of like a dollar off!...40%? Well, that's a little bitty bit better, I guess), especially from shops that have begun a dance (I remember the days when Midtown Comics used to have all the FCBD offerings available - this year, just 3) or decided to stop offering any free stuff (Forbidden Planet used to offer a hodge-podge/grab bag of miscellany, but they didn't have any this year, which, coincidentally, marks the 1st year at their new location a few doors down). I didn't bother with St. Mark's Comics this year - that store is like the old friend who you start to miss after a long break, then regret running into at the supermarket. i didn't check out the new Jim Hanley's Universe, either, because the line would have kept me from checking out Manhattan Comics, formerly known as Cosmic Comics - under new management (maybe). Hanley's is the only shop I know that manages to stay equidistant to the past site of each location it moved from (first it was at A&S Plaza - now shrunken into the Manhattan Mall, then it moved out an behind it on 32nd, then it lasted over a decade at 33rd & 5th - near the Empire State Building, and now it is on 32nd, between Park and Madison. phew!). Neither shop allowed a chance to pick up all the items offered, but at Manhattan Comics, it was o.k. to browse. Here are my findings:
- a lot of parents kept asking about the free Sesame Street comic, but when I flipped through the issue, I saw that it was just a partial reprint of the 1st issue. If you want something badly...
- DC's Superman comic was odd. It was a reprint of the 1st issue of Richard Donner and Geoff Jones' arc from several years ago. That's a little too far back to ballyhoo, isn't it? I suppose the real highlight was an interview with Scott Snyder about Superman Unchained, but where are the preview pages for that?
- the best offering? World of Archie Digest. That's right - nearly 100 pages of comics featuring a recognizable old stalwart...for free!! Now, that's the way to do it! Bravo, Mr. Andrews, Bravo.
- the biggest disappointment? No Disney comics. I had gotten used to seeing a FCBD offering featuring the Disney stock company (Mickey, Donald, Scrooge McDuck) since this event began, particularly when Gemstone was printing Disney comic books. last year, Fantagraphics offered a "Donald Duck Family" oneshot to promote their current hardcover "facsimile" (there's no better word for it - they're reprinted in the style of the ancient DELL Comics they appeared in, four-color process and all) reprints of Carl Barks stories - a new addition, "Donald Duck in 'The Old Castle's Secret'" is out this month. But this time - nothing. And despite the acquisition of Marvel Comics, Disney seems to taking a "long-distance relationship" approach to their ownership of the house that Stan's cousin built.
-Fun Surprise? Some shops tend to thrown in free comics that were leftovers/holdover/stuff rotting in the inventory. That's why you'll sometimes see Halloween-themed comics from the previous year. I picked-up a "Batman Adventures" comic (Not the "Beware The Batman" comic, which was just a preview). "Batman Adventures" reprinted two short stories written by current Spider-Man scribe Dan Slott back in 2002 for issues #1 and #4 of an interesting take on the "Animated Series" TV tie-in comics DC publishes. Warner Brothers Television Animation was no longer producing new episodes of "Batman: The Animated Series" and was in the middle of "Justice League", so this comic featured tales that coincided with the assumed timeline/continuity that the cartoons were following, which meant that Batman now wore that long-eared "Justice League" costume in his own book. Both of the tales featured in this reprint are very good. Dan could easily follow Scott Snyder on "Batman" and should.
- biggest rip-off? the Smurfs. Only six pages of the blue guys. That's smurfed-up. Or a clear case of "Bait-and-smurf". Ouch!
Wednesday, May 8, 2013
Friday, April 19, 2013
Jonathan Winters, RIP
I don't often write obituaries, but when comedian Jonathan Winters passed away last week at age 87, I knew I had to write something about him.
These days, he's best known for four things: as Mork's Benjamin Button-ish, backward-aging son Mearth who punched his way out of a giant polystyrene/cardboard egg ("That's not a boy, that's an old man!") in the final season of Mork and Mindy, as the hapless, everyman truck driver racing to find gangster Jimmy Durante's hidden suitcase of money "...buried under a BIG 'W'!", in It's A Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World, appearances on various talk shows and variety shows from the 50s through the 70s and sporadically thereafter, and voiceover work (as himself and Ma Frickert - a character he created and played often in drag - in an episode of The New Scooby-Doo Movies, Grandpa Smurf in The Smurfs TV cartoons produced by Hanna Barbera and Papa Smurf in the live-action/CGI-animated Smurfs films.
His comedy style/persona was hard to describe (actually, it's very easy to describe, if you've checked out his profile on Wikipedia, but it seems less interesting when it's explained as frankly). It was a form of low-key, light satire: he could play average guys, stereotypical gay men, windbag authority figures, showbiz phonies, doddering old codgers, fishing & hunting-obsessed outdoorsman types, myopic children, martians, a cat stalking a mouse and Ma Frickert - Whistler's Mother brought to life. If he was British, he would've been one of the Goon Gang (Peter Sellers, Spike Milligan, Harry Secombe), The Pythons, or even the Top Gear clowns (Jeremy Clarkson and James May are exactly the kind of characters Jonathan Winters had in his repertoire). Neil Simon once described Spike Milligan as "a demented Jonathan Winters". If you just so happen to own a copy of The Muppet Show Season 3 on DVD, or have seen anything with Milligan (who often came across as a deranged tramp who wandered past security and onto a sound stage) after reading this, you'll wonder, "Is that what the inside of Jonathan Winters mind is like?"
Those who knew him or were fans of his wondered why he never became as popular or successful as his contemporaries or spiritual comedic descendants. Robin Williams, Jim Carrey, Bill Murray, Will Ferrell, Zach Galifinakis, Steven Wright, Andy Kaufman - any comedian who attempted to always appear "on", not as themselves, can be linked to Winters, but he was only able to find steady work in commercials, voiceovers and in sporadic appearances in film and television (he played the police chief uncle of Alec Baldwin's Lamont Cranston in The Shadow and won an Emmy co-starring as Randy Quaid's Dad in the short-lived 90s sitcom Davis Rules). I'm inclined to believe the reason for this is because he actually succeeded in becoming his default character as he got older - Elwood Suggins, a farmer who "..can think eggs 24 hours a day" - not particularly edgy, but polite and you knew he was winking at the peanut gallery. I tend to think Inspector Clouseau was Peter Sellers' default character, but his Dr. Strangeglove is too imposing to make people believe that. Winters, like the Goons and the Pythons and the Gear heads, was a trickster.
Another thing: I've never seen a comic book with Jonathan Winters on it. Jerry Lewis, Bob Hope, even Don Rickles (as Goody Rickles in DC's Jimmy Olsen comics), Elvira and others, but no Winters. I think a comic with him might have had some potential to be entertaining. Or at least have its place in the longbox graveyard with the others. Who knows?
A website devoted to a film and DVD about Jonathan, Certifiably Jonathan, has its own website and can be previewed here .
"I think my place is inside the box, underneath the guy receiving the gold medal. They're playing the national anthem and I'm fondling a platinum medallion." - Jonathan Winters
These days, he's best known for four things: as Mork's Benjamin Button-ish, backward-aging son Mearth who punched his way out of a giant polystyrene/cardboard egg ("That's not a boy, that's an old man!") in the final season of Mork and Mindy, as the hapless, everyman truck driver racing to find gangster Jimmy Durante's hidden suitcase of money "...buried under a BIG 'W'!", in It's A Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World, appearances on various talk shows and variety shows from the 50s through the 70s and sporadically thereafter, and voiceover work (as himself and Ma Frickert - a character he created and played often in drag - in an episode of The New Scooby-Doo Movies, Grandpa Smurf in The Smurfs TV cartoons produced by Hanna Barbera and Papa Smurf in the live-action/CGI-animated Smurfs films.
His comedy style/persona was hard to describe (actually, it's very easy to describe, if you've checked out his profile on Wikipedia, but it seems less interesting when it's explained as frankly). It was a form of low-key, light satire: he could play average guys, stereotypical gay men, windbag authority figures, showbiz phonies, doddering old codgers, fishing & hunting-obsessed outdoorsman types, myopic children, martians, a cat stalking a mouse and Ma Frickert - Whistler's Mother brought to life. If he was British, he would've been one of the Goon Gang (Peter Sellers, Spike Milligan, Harry Secombe), The Pythons, or even the Top Gear clowns (Jeremy Clarkson and James May are exactly the kind of characters Jonathan Winters had in his repertoire). Neil Simon once described Spike Milligan as "a demented Jonathan Winters". If you just so happen to own a copy of The Muppet Show Season 3 on DVD, or have seen anything with Milligan (who often came across as a deranged tramp who wandered past security and onto a sound stage) after reading this, you'll wonder, "Is that what the inside of Jonathan Winters mind is like?"
Those who knew him or were fans of his wondered why he never became as popular or successful as his contemporaries or spiritual comedic descendants. Robin Williams, Jim Carrey, Bill Murray, Will Ferrell, Zach Galifinakis, Steven Wright, Andy Kaufman - any comedian who attempted to always appear "on", not as themselves, can be linked to Winters, but he was only able to find steady work in commercials, voiceovers and in sporadic appearances in film and television (he played the police chief uncle of Alec Baldwin's Lamont Cranston in The Shadow and won an Emmy co-starring as Randy Quaid's Dad in the short-lived 90s sitcom Davis Rules). I'm inclined to believe the reason for this is because he actually succeeded in becoming his default character as he got older - Elwood Suggins, a farmer who "..can think eggs 24 hours a day" - not particularly edgy, but polite and you knew he was winking at the peanut gallery. I tend to think Inspector Clouseau was Peter Sellers' default character, but his Dr. Strangeglove is too imposing to make people believe that. Winters, like the Goons and the Pythons and the Gear heads, was a trickster.
Another thing: I've never seen a comic book with Jonathan Winters on it. Jerry Lewis, Bob Hope, even Don Rickles (as Goody Rickles in DC's Jimmy Olsen comics), Elvira and others, but no Winters. I think a comic with him might have had some potential to be entertaining. Or at least have its place in the longbox graveyard with the others. Who knows?
A website devoted to a film and DVD about Jonathan, Certifiably Jonathan, has its own website and can be previewed here .
"I think my place is inside the box, underneath the guy receiving the gold medal. They're playing the national anthem and I'm fondling a platinum medallion." - Jonathan Winters
Friday, April 5, 2013
No $#!+ Sherlock - "The Sundry Scribbler - Part 5: Conclusion"
The Adventure of The Sundry Scribbler
Part 5: Conclusion
By
Joseph Adorno
Sherlock's face gave off an expression that I've seen before on many occasions: it's his contemplative stare. He makes this face whenever he is offered to take on a case. The outcome is always unpredictable.
"No, thank you," he replied to Blake.
"Oh?" was Blake's response.
"Yes. Oh yes. If I did not believe the matter to be in capable hands, I would have stirred into action, but oh no, Blake, you are far more capable than myself. You have read of my work; there is little to suggest that i make a habit of venturing outside feats of pure ratiocination, for that is where my true powers lie."
"I know, Holmes - 'ghosts need not apply' - as you once boldly put. Still - I invite your input. Would you care to wager how this will play out?"
Holmes smiled and reached into the pocket of his coat. He drew out his notepad and pencil. "Of course! I will write down a solution gathered from what I have learned today and only today. You may look at it now or - as I would prefer - lock it away until afterward to see how right I was." He tore off a page and handed it to Blake, who motioned to Blyth, who took the note from him and placed it discreetly in the reminds of a battered writing desk drawer.
Blake faced Sherlock. "Mr. Holmes, it was a pleasure meeting you today. I hope someday we will encounter a perplexing problem that complements both of our distinctive powers without compromising each other's dignity."
Holmes scoffed at that remark. "That's nonsense, Blake, and we both know it. Though I do wonder if you might benefit from a talk with my brother Mycroft, who is knowledgeable in the affairs of Mr. Plummer and Mr. Ling. I doubt you would be surprised. I'll contact him if you wish to meet him."
"No, thank you," he replied to Holmes. "I already know."
***
We were settled back in our chairs at 221B, which felt odd in the sense that we had already glimpsed how it would look if an incendiary device exploded within it.
"Holmes, what did you mean by 'I already know'? Why didn't you accompany Mr. Blake in preventing such an incredible theft?"
Holmes struck a match and lit his pipe. "I couldn't reveal much in front of Mr. Blyth - I'm sure Blake trusts him, but he is practicing the same avocation as you, Watson - chronicling his friend's cases. Besides, the theft should carry on as Mycroft intended."
I could not believe this revelation. "Holmes! Explain!"
"Things are not as they seem, old friend. The disappearance of Westin Pall may seen like a faraway memory, but he is actually a known informer of George Plummer, who also works for Dr. Ferraro - another enemy of Sexton Blake. With a list of enemies as long as Blake's, it should come as no surprise that he would take such precautions to heighten his awareness. Pall's disappearance brought to light the fact that this caper must proceed as Mycroft coordinated it.
"Dr. Ferraro and Prince Wu Ling are upstarts in London's underworld - they are attempting to keep the remnants of two distinct empires from evaporating - Professor Moriarty's and Dr. Fu Manchu. If they can be controlled into wasting their efforts on seemingly gainful ventures, then both organizations will be effectively dissolved beneath their noses."
I spat at the mention of the letters in front of that last name. "If that devil is a doctor of any sort, then I am Colonel Blimp!!"
Holmes raised his hands. "Remain at ease - all is well. It is in Mycroft's best interests that Blake believe that Plummer is one of his arch foes, when in fact he is an agent of her majesty's new organized Secret Service. His acts of corruption allow him an established reputation and gain him access in places that even my best disguises would not allow me to enter."
"But what about Mr. Blake's vile siblings?"
"Oh, the threat from them is very real, but not as a deep organizing power - they're wild cards. Plummer has been doing his best to keep them on a short leash with the lure of the massive payoff in this caper."
"But does this mean the diamonds and rubies are safe?"
He nodded reassuringly. "Just as the handover was done beforehand, so was the exchange. Blake's involvement will prevent the theft from occurring - and from all the parties involved to realize that they were executing the theft of wade-made faux gemstones if they had succeeded. The fallout from that reveal cannot happen - the consequences would be monstrous."
"So Blake is a pawn in this matter? I doubt he would enjoy his talents being wasted in such a way."
"Sexton Blake possesses the same deductive powers as myself - it is only his love of adventure that leads him into farragoes that would bruise the dignity of someone with more pride."
"Like yourself?"
He smiled. "You have yet to ask what I wrote on that paper I handed to Blake."
"That's right? What sort of note could you have written without tipping his hand if he opened it before giving chase?"
"Two words. The name of the company involved in the gemstone exchange, which Mycroft created as a new base for his organization - Universal Exports."
The End
Part 5: Conclusion
By
Joseph Adorno
Sherlock's face gave off an expression that I've seen before on many occasions: it's his contemplative stare. He makes this face whenever he is offered to take on a case. The outcome is always unpredictable.
"No, thank you," he replied to Blake.
"Oh?" was Blake's response.
"Yes. Oh yes. If I did not believe the matter to be in capable hands, I would have stirred into action, but oh no, Blake, you are far more capable than myself. You have read of my work; there is little to suggest that i make a habit of venturing outside feats of pure ratiocination, for that is where my true powers lie."
"I know, Holmes - 'ghosts need not apply' - as you once boldly put. Still - I invite your input. Would you care to wager how this will play out?"
Holmes smiled and reached into the pocket of his coat. He drew out his notepad and pencil. "Of course! I will write down a solution gathered from what I have learned today and only today. You may look at it now or - as I would prefer - lock it away until afterward to see how right I was." He tore off a page and handed it to Blake, who motioned to Blyth, who took the note from him and placed it discreetly in the reminds of a battered writing desk drawer.
Blake faced Sherlock. "Mr. Holmes, it was a pleasure meeting you today. I hope someday we will encounter a perplexing problem that complements both of our distinctive powers without compromising each other's dignity."
Holmes scoffed at that remark. "That's nonsense, Blake, and we both know it. Though I do wonder if you might benefit from a talk with my brother Mycroft, who is knowledgeable in the affairs of Mr. Plummer and Mr. Ling. I doubt you would be surprised. I'll contact him if you wish to meet him."
"No, thank you," he replied to Holmes. "I already know."
***
We were settled back in our chairs at 221B, which felt odd in the sense that we had already glimpsed how it would look if an incendiary device exploded within it.
"Holmes, what did you mean by 'I already know'? Why didn't you accompany Mr. Blake in preventing such an incredible theft?"
Holmes struck a match and lit his pipe. "I couldn't reveal much in front of Mr. Blyth - I'm sure Blake trusts him, but he is practicing the same avocation as you, Watson - chronicling his friend's cases. Besides, the theft should carry on as Mycroft intended."
I could not believe this revelation. "Holmes! Explain!"
"Things are not as they seem, old friend. The disappearance of Westin Pall may seen like a faraway memory, but he is actually a known informer of George Plummer, who also works for Dr. Ferraro - another enemy of Sexton Blake. With a list of enemies as long as Blake's, it should come as no surprise that he would take such precautions to heighten his awareness. Pall's disappearance brought to light the fact that this caper must proceed as Mycroft coordinated it.
"Dr. Ferraro and Prince Wu Ling are upstarts in London's underworld - they are attempting to keep the remnants of two distinct empires from evaporating - Professor Moriarty's and Dr. Fu Manchu. If they can be controlled into wasting their efforts on seemingly gainful ventures, then both organizations will be effectively dissolved beneath their noses."
I spat at the mention of the letters in front of that last name. "If that devil is a doctor of any sort, then I am Colonel Blimp!!"
Holmes raised his hands. "Remain at ease - all is well. It is in Mycroft's best interests that Blake believe that Plummer is one of his arch foes, when in fact he is an agent of her majesty's new organized Secret Service. His acts of corruption allow him an established reputation and gain him access in places that even my best disguises would not allow me to enter."
"But what about Mr. Blake's vile siblings?"
"Oh, the threat from them is very real, but not as a deep organizing power - they're wild cards. Plummer has been doing his best to keep them on a short leash with the lure of the massive payoff in this caper."
"But does this mean the diamonds and rubies are safe?"
He nodded reassuringly. "Just as the handover was done beforehand, so was the exchange. Blake's involvement will prevent the theft from occurring - and from all the parties involved to realize that they were executing the theft of wade-made faux gemstones if they had succeeded. The fallout from that reveal cannot happen - the consequences would be monstrous."
"So Blake is a pawn in this matter? I doubt he would enjoy his talents being wasted in such a way."
"Sexton Blake possesses the same deductive powers as myself - it is only his love of adventure that leads him into farragoes that would bruise the dignity of someone with more pride."
"Like yourself?"
He smiled. "You have yet to ask what I wrote on that paper I handed to Blake."
"That's right? What sort of note could you have written without tipping his hand if he opened it before giving chase?"
"Two words. The name of the company involved in the gemstone exchange, which Mycroft created as a new base for his organization - Universal Exports."
The End
Friday, March 22, 2013
No $#!+ Sherlock!: "The Sundry Scribbler - Part 4"
The Adventure of The Sundry Scribbler
Part 4
By
Joseph Adorno
We lay on the crumpled ruins on the ground floor for about an hour, before awakening with a loud and stern "Ahem".
It was stout elderly woman dressed in a dark overcoat.
"Mrs. Teague," Sexton Blake observed. "We must apologize for the mess we've m-,"
"Mess! Mess! Another mess - the last mess! You can clean it all up yourselves!!" She tossed an envelope at him. "I quit - effective immediately!!" She stormed off. Blake reached for the envelope and removed a pince-nez from the pocket of his vest. It was caked with sawdust. He made an attempt to blow off the dust and read her notice.
"That's unfortunate," he sighed. "She knew how to make Crab Rangoon the way I like it - that's the kind of experience that comes from a cook who travels abroad; she's the wife of retired sea captain who lives in Jamaica." He began slapping dust off his shirt and pants. "Very well. Tinker, is it time for us to head off?"
Tinker - that is, Mr. Blyth, though I'm not sure why he would let himself be regarded with a child's nickname - was in a daze, eventually settling his gaze at the ruins of a badly-beaten grandfather clock, its hands pointing at 6 and 2.
"We do, sir. The gala is about to begin in an hour."
"Excellent. We'll make a quick change of clothes at one of my spider-holes and then head off."
Holmes coughed a cloud of dust. "Gala? Am I to believe that you are the 'expert' hired by the Rajah's court to manage security for the handover with the Sultan this evening?"
Blake grinned. "That is correct. I initially took the job regardless of its social standing, but my interest has been piqued by the rumored involvement of my brothers, Henry and Nigel."
"The Blakes," I gasped. "What a vile and ghastly pair!" I bit my lip when I realized who I was keeping company with.
"It's alright, Doctor," assured Blake. "I'm sorry to say that I'm the ... black sheep of the family. But I also detected rumors that they're in league with Wu Ling and George Plummer of Scotland Yard."
Holmes raised an eyebrow at the mention of that last name. Plummer is a Detective Sergeant - as corrupt as Holmes was not, they had never crossed paths before (and it was possible that Plummer arranged to avoid doing so), but Holmes often wondered when the day would come when he would have to actually work with such a monster.
He asked Blake a question. "You believe that this teaming of villains involves the trade of the Rajah's diamond mine for the Sultan's ruby mine?"
"Yes. The Rajah of Pookajee holds a floating court - his ruby mines are exhausted, but his diamond mine is plentiful. The reverse is true for the Sultan of Lugash. The tradeoff has already been made, but the formal ceremony will involve the handover of 300 million pounds each in rubies and diamonds."
Holmes paused. "The location of this handover gala was not advertised in great detail."
Blake nodded. "Only 'in London'."
"Yet, the danger of Plummer's rumored involvement infers that the underworld is well aware."
"Unfortunately, the location chosen would have informed the underworld regardless."
"A well-respected, luxury hotel in a neighborhood of ill refute."
"Precisely."
"The Jade Lotus."
"You are the Master."
"In Limehouse."
"You are cordially invited to join us. As you once said, 'the game is afoot'."
To be continued...
Part 4
By
Joseph Adorno
We lay on the crumpled ruins on the ground floor for about an hour, before awakening with a loud and stern "Ahem".
It was stout elderly woman dressed in a dark overcoat.
"Mrs. Teague," Sexton Blake observed. "We must apologize for the mess we've m-,"
"Mess! Mess! Another mess - the last mess! You can clean it all up yourselves!!" She tossed an envelope at him. "I quit - effective immediately!!" She stormed off. Blake reached for the envelope and removed a pince-nez from the pocket of his vest. It was caked with sawdust. He made an attempt to blow off the dust and read her notice.
"That's unfortunate," he sighed. "She knew how to make Crab Rangoon the way I like it - that's the kind of experience that comes from a cook who travels abroad; she's the wife of retired sea captain who lives in Jamaica." He began slapping dust off his shirt and pants. "Very well. Tinker, is it time for us to head off?"
Tinker - that is, Mr. Blyth, though I'm not sure why he would let himself be regarded with a child's nickname - was in a daze, eventually settling his gaze at the ruins of a badly-beaten grandfather clock, its hands pointing at 6 and 2.
"We do, sir. The gala is about to begin in an hour."
"Excellent. We'll make a quick change of clothes at one of my spider-holes and then head off."
Holmes coughed a cloud of dust. "Gala? Am I to believe that you are the 'expert' hired by the Rajah's court to manage security for the handover with the Sultan this evening?"
Blake grinned. "That is correct. I initially took the job regardless of its social standing, but my interest has been piqued by the rumored involvement of my brothers, Henry and Nigel."
"The Blakes," I gasped. "What a vile and ghastly pair!" I bit my lip when I realized who I was keeping company with.
"It's alright, Doctor," assured Blake. "I'm sorry to say that I'm the ... black sheep of the family. But I also detected rumors that they're in league with Wu Ling and George Plummer of Scotland Yard."
Holmes raised an eyebrow at the mention of that last name. Plummer is a Detective Sergeant - as corrupt as Holmes was not, they had never crossed paths before (and it was possible that Plummer arranged to avoid doing so), but Holmes often wondered when the day would come when he would have to actually work with such a monster.
He asked Blake a question. "You believe that this teaming of villains involves the trade of the Rajah's diamond mine for the Sultan's ruby mine?"
"Yes. The Rajah of Pookajee holds a floating court - his ruby mines are exhausted, but his diamond mine is plentiful. The reverse is true for the Sultan of Lugash. The tradeoff has already been made, but the formal ceremony will involve the handover of 300 million pounds each in rubies and diamonds."
Holmes paused. "The location of this handover gala was not advertised in great detail."
Blake nodded. "Only 'in London'."
"Yet, the danger of Plummer's rumored involvement infers that the underworld is well aware."
"Unfortunately, the location chosen would have informed the underworld regardless."
"A well-respected, luxury hotel in a neighborhood of ill refute."
"Precisely."
"The Jade Lotus."
"You are the Master."
"In Limehouse."
"You are cordially invited to join us. As you once said, 'the game is afoot'."
To be continued...
Friday, March 15, 2013
No $#!+ Sherlock - "The Sundry Scribbler, part 3"
The Adventure of The Sundry Scribbler
By
Joseph Adorno
Part 3
I was well aware of who Sexton Blake was. Although I have never before included his name within these narratives, his exploits are often mentioned by Holmes as an example of what he accuses me of trying to do with my accounts of his cases. Whereas Holmes developed a fussy particularity in choosing his clients, Blake welcomed anything that came his way: lost cats, stolen dress pattern designs, no case big or small. But now, as a I stared at this man, now engaged in a combative form of martial art stance as he searched a study that had been decorated identical to ours, I began to wonder if I should consider if his all-inclusive workload implied he was mad.
"Holmes, would you care to..", I whispered.
"Of course, Watson," he whispered back. "Mister Blake is engaging in Tae Kwan Doe, a Korean style of self-defense attack, which he appears quite deft at. I wouldn't hesitate to infer - based on the facts presented - that his associate Mr. Blyth and 'Tinker' are the same man. Mr. Blake has ordered Mr. Blyth to prepare a trap for him in his house."
"That's madness, Holmes!"
He smiled. "Actually, that's ingenious, Watson! I'm well-read in Blake's exploits to deduce that he is a functioning paranoid - he is often in fear of his life and must be absolutely prepared whenever and wherever for the slightest chance that any of his enemies - some of whom are closer to him than Mr. Blyth, ironically - may strike when he lets up for a fraction of a second! I'm envious!"
Blake turned to face us after a long and dedicated search. "You may come in, Gentlemen. Feel free to sit anywhere you'd like. I was hoping you'd visit someday to appraise my decor." He began to settle down into an armchair.
Holmes stared at the chair as his eyes popped in horror. "Blake! The chair!!"
"What?" answered Blake. He turned his head back quick enough to catch his chair shift to his left on its own. I could not believe my own eyes, but the two brilliant men before me saw the same phantasm. Blake acted fast. He pressed and poked his fingers against the chair at various points for a half-minute before a low groan was uttered. The chair make a bizarre noise - as if a series of locks from within were being unbolted. A shape slumped out from behind the chair and lay in a crumpled heap.
Blake clapped at the crumpled heap. "Bravo, Tinker! That was very clever of you, but you've forgotten that this particular disguise leaves the occupant vulnerable to physical assault - in this case, on all the pressure points."
Holmes clapped in amusement and I joined in with the applause. 'Tinker', as Mr. Blyth lets himself be called, slowly stood up and bowed. And then he raised both of his arms and pounced at Blake like a hungry tiger and all hell broke loose. The two men wrestled together in a violent tango that ended with the pair making colliding with a couch and somersaulting into the air...landing on a workbench displaying an active chemistry lab. There was a catastrophic crash, with broken wooden and splinters flying, bottles and beakers and vials of fiery chemicals spilling onto the floor, the chemicals themselves mixing together, coagulating into a boiling, bubbling mass that seeming to burn and dissolve into the surface...
"Stop fighting, you fools!!" Holmes shouted. "The floor is disintegrating!...run Watson!!"
A sinkhole appeared within the study and swallowed up the furniture, Blake, Tinker, Holmes and myself. We were helplessly riding the descent on the overturned couch as we crashed down onto the first floor - the maid's quarters...
To be continued...
By
Joseph Adorno
Part 3
I was well aware of who Sexton Blake was. Although I have never before included his name within these narratives, his exploits are often mentioned by Holmes as an example of what he accuses me of trying to do with my accounts of his cases. Whereas Holmes developed a fussy particularity in choosing his clients, Blake welcomed anything that came his way: lost cats, stolen dress pattern designs, no case big or small. But now, as a I stared at this man, now engaged in a combative form of martial art stance as he searched a study that had been decorated identical to ours, I began to wonder if I should consider if his all-inclusive workload implied he was mad.
"Holmes, would you care to..", I whispered.
"Of course, Watson," he whispered back. "Mister Blake is engaging in Tae Kwan Doe, a Korean style of self-defense attack, which he appears quite deft at. I wouldn't hesitate to infer - based on the facts presented - that his associate Mr. Blyth and 'Tinker' are the same man. Mr. Blake has ordered Mr. Blyth to prepare a trap for him in his house."
"That's madness, Holmes!"
He smiled. "Actually, that's ingenious, Watson! I'm well-read in Blake's exploits to deduce that he is a functioning paranoid - he is often in fear of his life and must be absolutely prepared whenever and wherever for the slightest chance that any of his enemies - some of whom are closer to him than Mr. Blyth, ironically - may strike when he lets up for a fraction of a second! I'm envious!"
Blake turned to face us after a long and dedicated search. "You may come in, Gentlemen. Feel free to sit anywhere you'd like. I was hoping you'd visit someday to appraise my decor." He began to settle down into an armchair.
Holmes stared at the chair as his eyes popped in horror. "Blake! The chair!!"
"What?" answered Blake. He turned his head back quick enough to catch his chair shift to his left on its own. I could not believe my own eyes, but the two brilliant men before me saw the same phantasm. Blake acted fast. He pressed and poked his fingers against the chair at various points for a half-minute before a low groan was uttered. The chair make a bizarre noise - as if a series of locks from within were being unbolted. A shape slumped out from behind the chair and lay in a crumpled heap.
Blake clapped at the crumpled heap. "Bravo, Tinker! That was very clever of you, but you've forgotten that this particular disguise leaves the occupant vulnerable to physical assault - in this case, on all the pressure points."
Holmes clapped in amusement and I joined in with the applause. 'Tinker', as Mr. Blyth lets himself be called, slowly stood up and bowed. And then he raised both of his arms and pounced at Blake like a hungry tiger and all hell broke loose. The two men wrestled together in a violent tango that ended with the pair making colliding with a couch and somersaulting into the air...landing on a workbench displaying an active chemistry lab. There was a catastrophic crash, with broken wooden and splinters flying, bottles and beakers and vials of fiery chemicals spilling onto the floor, the chemicals themselves mixing together, coagulating into a boiling, bubbling mass that seeming to burn and dissolve into the surface...
"Stop fighting, you fools!!" Holmes shouted. "The floor is disintegrating!...run Watson!!"
A sinkhole appeared within the study and swallowed up the furniture, Blake, Tinker, Holmes and myself. We were helplessly riding the descent on the overturned couch as we crashed down onto the first floor - the maid's quarters...
To be continued...
Thursday, March 7, 2013
No $#!+ Sherlock: "The Adventure of The Sundry Scribbler - Part 2"
The Adventure of The Sundry Scribbler
Part 2
by
Joseph Adorno
The door leading into 221A had been left ajar. Holmes and I, no strangers to eerie surroundings, had our wits about us.
"Stay sharp, Watson. I fear our neighbor has had a busy night."
We tiptoed quietly, making silent gestures to each other as a muted commentary on how remarkably uncanny was 221A's resemblance to 221B.
"I wonder if Mr. Blyth has his own Mrs. Hudson ready to take our coats."
He stifled a laugh. "This could actually be a grave matter." Then he stifled another laugh. "Let's head up the stairs."
Holmes abandoned his tiptoe and deliberately marched up in a military stomp - St. George awakening the dragon from his slumber, as he once explained to me. Upon approaching the familiar door to a familiar floor in lodgings that were familiar, yet so unfamiliar, he stopped and pointed toward it.
"Notice," he whispered. Another door ajar. Either Mr. Blyth does not believe in keys - or we are walking into a mousetrap."
"But Holmes, this visit was unannounced! He couldn't possibly - "
"You're right. But his friend could. Stay behind me, Watson."
He gingerly pushed the door open. From our perspective, it appeared as if we had not travelled anywhere. We were staring at Holmes' study. But it was not.
"Remember 221A at all costs, Watson. This could be a very dangerous game."
"Of course it is," replied a voice from behind, coming from behind a potted plant by the door. "But it is one for which only I was invited to play."
The man behind the voice slowly stood up to greet us, but only discreetly. he shook Holmes' hand. "It is an honor to have you and good doctor here."
"Ah. We must apologize for intruding."
Our host waved his hand at Holmes. "No, no. 'Quite all right, 'Quite all right. I think you're in for a show. Tinker has a new card to play this evening." He then shifted his body into an attack stance and proceeded to enter the study. "Stay there," he advised.
I tried to protest, but Holmes held me back. "Easy, Watson. We are only spectators in the world's stage."
"But Holmes! Mr. Blyth is walking into a trap!"
He smiled. "Who said that was Mr. Blyth? No, no - Mr. Blyth is actually quite safe, for he designed this trap for gracious host, who is about to enter. that man is Sexton Blake."
To Be Continued...
Part 2
by
Joseph Adorno
The door leading into 221A had been left ajar. Holmes and I, no strangers to eerie surroundings, had our wits about us.
"Stay sharp, Watson. I fear our neighbor has had a busy night."
We tiptoed quietly, making silent gestures to each other as a muted commentary on how remarkably uncanny was 221A's resemblance to 221B.
"I wonder if Mr. Blyth has his own Mrs. Hudson ready to take our coats."
He stifled a laugh. "This could actually be a grave matter." Then he stifled another laugh. "Let's head up the stairs."
Holmes abandoned his tiptoe and deliberately marched up in a military stomp - St. George awakening the dragon from his slumber, as he once explained to me. Upon approaching the familiar door to a familiar floor in lodgings that were familiar, yet so unfamiliar, he stopped and pointed toward it.
"Notice," he whispered. Another door ajar. Either Mr. Blyth does not believe in keys - or we are walking into a mousetrap."
"But Holmes, this visit was unannounced! He couldn't possibly - "
"You're right. But his friend could. Stay behind me, Watson."
He gingerly pushed the door open. From our perspective, it appeared as if we had not travelled anywhere. We were staring at Holmes' study. But it was not.
"Remember 221A at all costs, Watson. This could be a very dangerous game."
"Of course it is," replied a voice from behind, coming from behind a potted plant by the door. "But it is one for which only I was invited to play."
The man behind the voice slowly stood up to greet us, but only discreetly. he shook Holmes' hand. "It is an honor to have you and good doctor here."
"Ah. We must apologize for intruding."
Our host waved his hand at Holmes. "No, no. 'Quite all right, 'Quite all right. I think you're in for a show. Tinker has a new card to play this evening." He then shifted his body into an attack stance and proceeded to enter the study. "Stay there," he advised.
I tried to protest, but Holmes held me back. "Easy, Watson. We are only spectators in the world's stage."
"But Holmes! Mr. Blyth is walking into a trap!"
He smiled. "Who said that was Mr. Blyth? No, no - Mr. Blyth is actually quite safe, for he designed this trap for gracious host, who is about to enter. that man is Sexton Blake."
To Be Continued...
Friday, January 18, 2013
No $#!+ Sherlock: Happy Birthday!
If Sherlock Holmes was a real person, he would have celebrated his birthday on January 6th. Fans ("Sherlockians" or "Holmesians", whichever you prefer) claim he was born in 1854. This year, he is 159 years old.
There is an easy way to celebrate (I just did that) and an interesting way...
The Adventure of The Sundry Scribbler
By Joseph Adorno
Part One
It was another gray day in London. Sherlock Holmes decided to spend the afternoon refilling the Persian slipper he hung by the fireplace with a supply of fresh tobacco...and looking over my shoulder, to my irritation.
"Actually, Watson, these are very good. You needn't bother with crafting a draft and just let the editor have it." He held up my notebook and pointed to a page. "Make sure Doyle does not change a single word."
"Holmes, I will warn you that any talk will permit me to bring up your own efforts as well, like that business with the soldier with leprosy. Or when you let Mycroft write up that attempt on your life by Count Silvius."
"Ah, touche! Forgive me, John, but are you really surprised? It's nothing I haven't remarked before."
Holmes had taken a liking to reading my notes on his cases and ignoring the published accounts altogether. It is no secret that he complained, over and over, that my approach veered toward the melodramatic and tacky. My notes offer no narrative - in the very least, I take some consolation in the fact that he has not ordered me to cease and desist my efforts.
"Holmes, you're showering me with praise on work equal to the daily toil of schoolchildren!"
He laughed. "Come now, Watson, if I were truly patronizing, I would have suggested that I had compared your work to a sampling from one of the irregulars! No, I do find an art to these scribblings. For example, this page I've highlighted marks an item of interest sandwiched hours later between two facts established hours earlier. This deduction is erroneous, but the thought process is very revealing and entertaining."
"I was simply recalling how the the broken mousetrap found in Mr. Pall's study and that was Inspector Jones' summation, not mine."
"Well, Jones' summation was sandwiched between the factual observance that Weston Pall lived at his manor house in squalor, surrounded by stacks of books and penny dreadfuls piled on top of furniture. The deduction has intimations that the mousetrap will reveal the true solution to Pall's disappearance, but we know that was not true."
"Of course! We're only a third of the way into the problem! The audience needs to be entertained while they wait for you to show your hand."
"You're setting it up as a miraculous leap in the dark, when it was all fairly commonplace. Just because my caseload has become repetitive doesn't mean you have a right to bait them that way. I'm going to ask Mr. Blyth to consider a crack at the Pall disappearance and compare the results with yours."
"Who is this 'Blyth'?" I asked.
He smiled again. "Mr. Harry Blyth. He's our new neighbor - 221A. He claims to be a writer, like yourself, but whereas writing is your avocation, it is his vocation, full-time. I suppose...you wish to meet him?"
"Of course!"
To Be Continued...
There is an easy way to celebrate (I just did that) and an interesting way...
The Adventure of The Sundry Scribbler
By Joseph Adorno
Part One
It was another gray day in London. Sherlock Holmes decided to spend the afternoon refilling the Persian slipper he hung by the fireplace with a supply of fresh tobacco...and looking over my shoulder, to my irritation.
"Actually, Watson, these are very good. You needn't bother with crafting a draft and just let the editor have it." He held up my notebook and pointed to a page. "Make sure Doyle does not change a single word."
"Holmes, I will warn you that any talk will permit me to bring up your own efforts as well, like that business with the soldier with leprosy. Or when you let Mycroft write up that attempt on your life by Count Silvius."
"Ah, touche! Forgive me, John, but are you really surprised? It's nothing I haven't remarked before."
Holmes had taken a liking to reading my notes on his cases and ignoring the published accounts altogether. It is no secret that he complained, over and over, that my approach veered toward the melodramatic and tacky. My notes offer no narrative - in the very least, I take some consolation in the fact that he has not ordered me to cease and desist my efforts.
"Holmes, you're showering me with praise on work equal to the daily toil of schoolchildren!"
He laughed. "Come now, Watson, if I were truly patronizing, I would have suggested that I had compared your work to a sampling from one of the irregulars! No, I do find an art to these scribblings. For example, this page I've highlighted marks an item of interest sandwiched hours later between two facts established hours earlier. This deduction is erroneous, but the thought process is very revealing and entertaining."
"I was simply recalling how the the broken mousetrap found in Mr. Pall's study and that was Inspector Jones' summation, not mine."
"Well, Jones' summation was sandwiched between the factual observance that Weston Pall lived at his manor house in squalor, surrounded by stacks of books and penny dreadfuls piled on top of furniture. The deduction has intimations that the mousetrap will reveal the true solution to Pall's disappearance, but we know that was not true."
"Of course! We're only a third of the way into the problem! The audience needs to be entertained while they wait for you to show your hand."
"You're setting it up as a miraculous leap in the dark, when it was all fairly commonplace. Just because my caseload has become repetitive doesn't mean you have a right to bait them that way. I'm going to ask Mr. Blyth to consider a crack at the Pall disappearance and compare the results with yours."
"Who is this 'Blyth'?" I asked.
He smiled again. "Mr. Harry Blyth. He's our new neighbor - 221A. He claims to be a writer, like yourself, but whereas writing is your avocation, it is his vocation, full-time. I suppose...you wish to meet him?"
"Of course!"
To Be Continued...
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