2016 Year in Review

Why are people bitching about 2016? Just because we lost a lot of greats and elected a human cartoon character to run the free world doesn't mean the year hasn't yielded some positive things, especially in the realm of pop culture. Here are some of our faves.

Ghostbusters was a great movie. Much better than Ghostbusters II. At any rate they did what they had to do with it.

Rogue One is is right up there. Gareth Edwards is the new FX film Master. 

Dead & Co. is kicking ass. Beautiful spinners are in every pic I've seen, making it look like time traveling back to the 90's is a reality.

Micronauts are poised for a major comeback, thanks to the Hasbro SDCC set, and a well received comic book.

The small regional fan event is thriving across the U.S. It's no longer Wizard's game. Will Diamond soon fall? Joking.

The Hobbit is officially great thanks to the Extended Edition. Everything the films needed is there now, and the extra features are positively hysterical. 

Pen Pineapple Apple Pen is the thing you need to watch anytime you feel like you're having trouble operating as a functioning human being. Pikotaro is a genius.

Binge watching television shows all the time is a thing now, and nobody thinks you're weird for doing it. Netflix is making it easier to be a couch potato. 

Super 7 has He Man and the MOTU and they're already pissing off fans. Boutique toy manufacturing continues it's big takeover of licensed merch.

Happy New year eeveryone! May 2017 be just as good!

A Decade of Blogging (infrequently)

This year marks the tenth anniversary of Materialist Zen, and even a blogger as apathetic as I cannot deny the excitement and joy of celebrating such a momentous occasion.  So here, without further ado, is the very first post of the year!

Blogging is fun but blogging is also a drag. It takes time to type and coming up with ideas to write about is hard, so I don't do it much. I'm usually too in the moment to take a picture or ask a relevant question, then I forget the idea altogether because I'm too dumb to make a note. After all that I normally settle into the idea that this is just the most redundant activity. Blogging really is entirely unnecessary and it takes a certain level of self-absorption to be any good at it. So it is that spirit, the spirit of self-absorption, that I kick off this year of celebration with a brief conversion with myself discussing what it's like to blog over a period of ten years. 

Congratulations on my ten years! How does it feel to write of such a long-running blog?

 It feels great, thanks! When I started I never imagined I would still be doing this ten years later.  

How has blogging changed since I started out?

The blogging itself hasn't changed much, but the interconnection with other social media certainly has. It was such a pain in the neck to make people aware of my blog that I basically still can't be bothered with it. It was that time consuming to cross promote. Things like Google Ads were so terrible, absolutely getting in the way of what I am trying to do here and not delivering on the promise. There's an ease of use and access now that wasn't present ten year ago that I would say is the biggest change. People are blogging with their cell phones!

How have I changed?

(Laughs) I've changed but I'm not getting any smarter, stronger, or better looking! Seriously, if I've changed it's probably in that I'm more focused and have lower expectations. Maybe not "lower"  but more reasonable and within reach. Life isn't as tumultuous as it once was. That's given me a chance to pause in self-reflection, and come to some realizations, like what it is I'm doing by immersing myself in the hobby like I do.

What is it I'm doing by immersing myself in the hobby like I do? 

I had to ask! Maybe I spoke to soon. I know I'm more active than I ever was, with things like the toy show, various Facebook groups and Twitter, but what is it I'm doing? It definitely qualifies as an avocation, and even though I don't see that changing anytime soon, I'm likely to keep putting my energy into it. It's the simple pleasure of acquiring a dumb thing, and sharing that love with as many people as possible. 

I haven't posted in almost two years. Why?

Well, there where technical issues, such as my 17 year old Dell finally crashing, but I was sort of burned out anyway. I have several drafts I never published because I just lost interest in finishing them. I also became preoccupied with Twitter and Instagram, and got really involved with the Facebook hobby community, then starting promoting the show which has a sizable online commitment attached to it, so I wasn't really thinking about the blog. When I finally saw The Force Awakens I knew I couldn't blog because people aren't interested in how bad that film is. It was everything I could do to not go on the internet and lash out at the incredible levels of suck that is Star Wars The Force Awakens. Now I've had a chance to cool down and my opinion of the film has softened enough that I can go online and pretend it doesn't exist. In the meantime it became 2017, MZ's 10th anniversary, so returning attention to the blog is a must.

Has my subject matter changed, and if so how?  

It has changed, particularly with toys, which aren't really made for kids these days. Sure, they still make kids toys, but they sneak all this elaborate, expensive junk for adults onto the shelves that gets in the way of the things that should be there, which is more stuff specifically for kids. I know a kid probably likes the transformer toy while it's still not broken, but I kind of feel sorry for him having to help his dad vicariously relive his childhood. Then again, everything is so expensive that nothing can get made unless Wal-Mart says so, so I guess terminal adolescence is better than nothing. The reality of these marketing considerations seems to have enabled an acceptance level of toy collecting among adults that is mind-boggling. Even ten years ago, an adult collecting toys and comics was seen as at least somewhat peculiar. Not so much anymore. 

Pittsburgh is obviously a very different place, in ways both good and bad. There is more attention being paid to the city thanks to the Tech boom, so the types of local quirks I like to write about are being covered by mass media outlets now. I didn't expect people to ever take our greasy spoons so seriously,  yet, on the other hand, the music scene is exactly where I said it would be, sounding like Philly did ten years ago. I'm happy to be able to say the people associated with my core subject matter are still the same down to earth folks they always were. 

Perhaps more specifically my subject matter has changed in that I deleted several posts I felt were too off topic, such as my Olympic satire and tribute to Tailgate Magazine. The Tailgate post was one of my better essays, just not something that fits in with the grand design as I now understand it, so it's gone. I've narrowed my subject matter slightly, and continue to fine tune it. I understand now that there are some things I'm better qualified to discuss than others.

What, if anything, do I see happening with blogging as it continues to move forward?

I can't say I have any idea what's happening now, let alone what the future might hold.

Materialist Zen still gets multiple hits every day, even though it hasn't been updated for so long. How do I explain that? 

I think the topics I've discussed are gaining more traction in the realm of everyday people, as everyday people continue to be made aware and accept things like japanese toys and french fries on a salad. I know a lot of times this blog is the first thing they'll encounter when doing a search for, say, banana seat bikes or HG Toys Godzilla, stuff the average person didn't know about or forgot until more recently. I tend to dig a little deeper and consider things for longer periods, so some of the content I've developed has aged very well. Also, the name of the blog is somewhat brilliant, even if I do say so myself, and has the type of universal appeal that continues to draw in readers.  That was one of the smarter decisions I made. There's more people every year, and they're always curious about what others are getting into. People are the one resource we are not going to run out of soon.

Are there any special plans to help celebrate my anniversary?

I'm working on a few concepts. I'll probably finally update the imagery and layout (who is Tom D. anyhow?) and start publishing in terms of a series of articles. I have ideas I can't really talk about because I like surprises and don't want to promise something I'll change my mind about later.

Finally, is there anything I'd like to say before I wrap things up? 

I would just thank readers for their continued support. It means a lot when someone takes the time to comment on a post or stop me in real life to continue the conversation. I do this mainly for my own satisfaction, only vaguely aware of others impressions, so when I get direct feedback I'm compelled to double down and push a little further. Thank you!

Thank me for the time I took to answer my own questions.

(pause) Wait, what?


So there it is, the first post of the year. Pretty interesting stuff, and maybe the weirdest thing I've blogged yet. Stay tuned for more of our tenth anniversary celebration over the coming four months.

Too Groovy Toy Show

A new toy collectors event emerged in Pittsburgh this past weekend. The Too Groovy Toy Show.

The idea was to recreate the halcyon days of the late 80's, when smaller cons offered a more relaxed atmosphere. Admission wouldn't break the bank and a handful of dealers would cater to a dizzying array of interests. It was to be a quick shot instead of a binge weekend. A fun and productive afternoon doing something we love, with plenty of time leftover for whatever else. I'm happy to report that by most accounts the Too Groovy Toy Show was successful in accomplishing this.

 

MZ spread at Too Groovy Toy Show.

 Organized by several local collectors (including yours truly) the Too Groovy Toy Show was thrown together over the course of four months with a minimal budget. Only 25 tables, they all sold out and the offerings heaped on display rivaled any event I've attended. So much great stuff was crammed into such a small venue that it took some time to absorb. The buyer turnout was also substantial, with people lined up outside the door. It was great to see such a response to what we feel is something new and cool for the hobby in Pittsburgh. Jokingly referred to as the "Beta" Too Groovy Toy Show, this event was the first in a planned series that looks to be continued.

 D & E Collectibles brought some great vintage SW stuff. 

This was nearer to the end of the day, so it's somewhat picked over.

 A personal highlight was when Glenn (not Big Glenn, although he is always a highlight) started talking to me about the ARK Black King in the MZ spread. He was amazed and explained that he had one too, as well as several others and never new how to start researching them. I got to enjoy a fun conversation about obscure robot toys and maybe even help him out a little. But it gets better. Since he was local, he ran home and brought out some of the finest examples of Marukai Trading UFO robot toys I'll likely ever see. The most minor paint wear and everything 100% complete and fully functioning. Amazing stuff that wouldn't happen if Glenn were zipping past my table because there's "so much to see."

It's a great show when gems like these are discovered.

Please, somebody time machine me back to 1978.

 Another highlight of any proper toy show is the presence of a grail or two. In my case, some very nice Yamakatsu Godzilla, some Kenner Raiders figures, and the '82 Bandai Godzilla. I held off on all of it because I wanted patrons to get first crack, so whoever it is playing with Indiana Jones and Cairo Swordsman right now owes me one. I did score the gojis, which still made for the best day I've had at any show in quite a while. That stuff is always overpriced online and you never really know what you're getting, so it's great to get to examine it in person. Finding all three at the rinky-dink show we put together for kicks is a karma thing, I am certain.

 ... for one cannot live on vinyl kaiju alone.

Being involved in this type of event is logical for Materialist Zen. I am proud of what we have accomplished and grateful for the tremendous response. Patrick Senatro and Bob Novotny are gentlemen and a credit to the local scene, with Bobby in particular deserving of praise for his efforts in both the show and his store, Too Groovy Pop Culture Toys. There is no question this guy contributes so much to the Pittsburgh toy collecting community. He's friendly, too, so stop by after show season ends if you're itching for something retro-cool and fun.

And don't forget to keep an eye out for the Return of Too Groovy Toy Show.

NATIONAL RECORD MART sign for sale

Recently, the center button of my Ipod 2 started sticking and now won't depress at all. This occurs a little less than a year after I sold off the entirety of my extensive CD collection (the Kindle made it seem alright) to the local CD Exchange. Of course, I continue to further immerse myself in collecting vinyl records as a coping mechanism for all these bad music listening decisions, so it comes as a true materialist zen moment when I stumble upon this:

I should add that I worked for NRM for five years starting in 1992, during the height of the grundge explosion. I pushed Badmotorfinger so hard, it was uncool before it was even officially released. Three nights a week and opening on weekends while studying as an undergrad, NRM was my college life, my fraternity.

NRM is, of course, a tedious acronym for Nation Record Mart, a company that fell under the same mid-90's malaise as Kentucky Fried Chicken. Please remember that by this time actual LPs were regarded as a thing of the past, just like artery clogging fast food. In fact, the music industry's demise can be directly attributed to it's inability to dictate the prevelant technology. It was the Compact Disc, not the mp3, that did in the music industry. The mp3 was merely the deathblow strike after an awkward and prohibitively costly ten year transition period from LP to CD. The disaster that was the Compact Disc went beyond obvious merchandising considerations and straight into how companies were forced to market themselves. National Record Mart is says it all, NRM Music is saying something. I had no idea at the time.

As a suburban kid in the late 70's/early 80's, landing a gig with the record mart was a validation of ones music knowledge credentials. That said, I had no idea what I was in for in terms of my education. I could never have guessed that I would work for a guy who loved the Boss, the Dead, and the Clash equally. A guy who would encourage King Sunny Ade, but let his employees in-store play Beasties, G'N'R, Pearl Jam... all the played out shit we loved. It was like a party at work everyday in some ways. The people you worked with could not be more in line with the core philosophical belief in the power of music, and if you got bitched at by a customer, take out from the Taco Bell in the food court made it feel like a party again. Store #41 was a Ticket Master outlet. In order to keep us loyal and away from scalpers, said guy from Teaneck, NJ would allow us a number of seats before the gate opened. We earned it by dealing with hostile ticket buyers all the time. There were so many perks attached to working at NRM; I sat (boogied) in the fourth row at several Phish concerts, met TLC before they hit big, learned to navigate the service hallways of the mall were Dawn of the Dead was filmed, possessed a promotional cassette copy of the aforementioned Sound Garden album 8 months before release, and boxed up the last 75 vinyl cut-outs for the scrap heap, thus truly ending an era of Monroeville Mall. The working at NRM stories go on forever.

Here's an article from the PG back in 2002 that sums things up quite nicely.

Seeing that store logo again brought back so many great memories, but that's the type of experience one can expect from going to Hannastown Fleatique in Hempfield Township, PA. It's the longest running outdoor antique show in the country, and it's were famous hoarder Andy Warhol would gather cool stuff to load into the lower floors of his NYC brownstone. I inquired about the price and got $275, and not much else on the history of the object. Apparently former NRM employees inundate these type of pop-ups, and the seller had grown tired of the tale.  It's not a complete sign, so I didn't bite, but I suppose the rest of it could be fabricated cheaply enough. With this type of thing it's a space consideration, not a money consideration. Also, it's a Do I want to hire an electrician so I don't kill myself trying to install a utility electrical line in my living room?-type consideration.

So, the NRM signage is still out there, for you weirdo CD collectors trying to do up the communal space right. CD collectors are the 8-Track collectors of the future. Vinyl is the new hard-copy format of choice. National Record Mart, however, remains a thing of the past.

Love for The Temple Of Doom

 Indiana Jones and The Temple of Doom is my favorite of the four films. It does what a proper sequel should, which is give you more of what you like about the first film, while being something unique and unto itself. Temple of Doom does this. It's got it's own atmosphere, the other two films are just rehash.

 

One thing I remember coming away from seeing this movie, besides being supremely satisfied with my visit to the 1930's, was the realization that there wasn't going to be anymore Star Wars films. I knew the SW story was told in full, yet it wasn't until Temple of Doom that the reality hit home. In this way, Temple of Doom becomes one of my first adult experiences. 

Celebrating a 30 year old film from my youth is kind of depressing. Then again, movies like this one are one of my life's guide posts. Watching Harry Ford take the amount of physical abuse that he does really puts my own aches and pains into perspective. They don't make movies the way they used to, that's for sure.

The truth is, when you make a comment like that (They don't make...) you're really acknowledging that your own time has passed. The experience if seeing this film on the big screen is a distant memory, even if the film itself remains timeless

Anatomy of a Thing

I've been in the habit of offering a small token of thanks when set up and selling at organized events or online, usually being a small rubber or plastic bulk monster or robot toy such as you'd find in a party supply store. Cool, colorful trinkets in keeping with my theme of late 70's/early 80's awesomeness. They are something I can offer to someone just for stopping at my table and they help make the event a better experience for everyone.

Six years ago I found a huge bag of brightly colored plastic Gundam figures that I couldn't pass up, although I was never sure of what to do with them until recently when the local party store, Paper Mart, closed it's doors forever. Up until that point I would toss a few in a shipping box, or leave them on my table in a small candy dish with a sign saying "Take One". I've dispersed these guys over the years and have a finite number left. They are a diminishing resource so it's important that they be fully utilized before they're gone forever!



The venerable Paper Mart is closed after thirty years. I guess the kids didn't want to go up against Wal-Mart and Target anymore. It was a big groovy place with cards, gift wrap, novelties, and tons of Steelers stuff all year round. At one time I would have gone there to rummage for Star Wars supplies, another for Halloween stuff. Yet at another point in life I would have bought everything glow I could find, but those stories aren't appropriate for this blog. This time, my last time, I went to Paper Mart and found several bags of small, jiggly, squishy dinosaur toys, perfect for my Gundams to fight, and priced next to nothing.



I now understood what need to be done with my remaining Gundams. They would each be bagged with a rubber dinosaur in a claustrophobic struggle for survival which would also serve as a contact point. So, I created some header card art; I used Copic markers and took some liberties with the designs, then cleaned it up and added background and additional layout on the computer. I think the results capture the fun atmosphere I was going for.



Then comes the tedious assembly portion of this project. Once I got to putting the things together and discovered that the dinosaurs were so stretchy that any 'bot could ride one, (plus they fit into the bag more easily,) it became a lot more enjoyable. Dino Riders redux?





The result is a freebie I'm most proud of. While the concept stands well enough of it's own, through happy accident the various color combinations serve as tribute to so many great, classic toys and characters. The appropriation of various properties and the packaging might be borderline keshi. I can only hope the kan (editor: Sans ji ) translates to "Thank You" but that's part of the fun (editor: It loosely translates to "Positive". Win!) I included contact info and formatted the card to fit in a business card holder. The creation is totally fun and functional, and I like to think it's a pretty cool, real world way to stay on the radar of the collectors I do business with.




Anyhow, I'll be making more of these things throughout what is looking like a busy summer show schedule. Please let me know if you get one and which favorite toy it reminds you of. So much of why people select whichever one they do depends on personal history, and we here at MZ are all about sharing the toy collecting experience!

Straub Beer... Mmmmmm!

"Please Return"

Something totally unique to the Pittsburgh region is Straub 16oz returnables. Not only is Straub the second oldest brewery in the U.S., they are also the only brewery anywhere in the states still offering returnables. It's cheaper than Pabst and as fresh as anything poured into a growler, and there's something nice about filling your pint glass to the rim with just one bottle (that will not break.) It's sustainable, but Hipsters don't know this exists. You won't find this on any bourgeois white kid's "20 Things About Pittsburgh" list. This is how your great granddad brought home his beer, which makes it pretty effin' cool. In a throwaway society that can only pretend to respect tradition it does not get any more real than this. Quaff!

Pumpkinhead (twentyfive years later)

Back in 1988 a genre geek teenager was likely to rent every available VHS tape available. In most rental outlets the selection amounted to a hundred or so titles, featuring mainstays like Star Wars and Halloween, and then a constantly revolving B movie roster featuring the likes of Battle Beyond The Stars and Sleepaway Camp. It is within this din of the mid-80's home video explosion that a new breed of direct to video films would emerge, and at the forefront of this new concept in home entertainment was a gnarly low budget scary movie called Pumpkinhead.



Basically a morality play, Pumpkinhead rises above it's "teens partying in the woods" foundations to be able to make several astute cultural observations aiding to the betterment of the story. When a fatal accident pushes a family man to despair, he uses his hillbilly connections to contract the local folklore to exact revenge. Thus, the story unfolds.

VIEWING PUMPKINHEAD

I wasn't impressed after viewing Pumpkinhead upon initial home video release.  It was a combination of the, then, prevalent rock video production mentality (which pretty much stains every movie from 1987 to the mid-90's),) and the fact that the film breaks one of the cardinal rules of horror movies in that it shows too much of the monster too soon. Apart from that, this was also a time in which there was a stigma attached to the film in being a direct to video release. Sure, there's probably some thirty something in California rolling his/her eyes as he/she reads this, but to the rest of the world this movie came out of nowhere and kind of didn't make sense in terms of it's importance. Sure, it was previewed in Fangoria like a real movie, but it never appeared at any local Carmike that I ever heard about. Sure, you have big names like Stan Winston and Lance Henrickson attached, but somehow watching Direct to Video in the mid-west back then felt like what watching a made for TV movie. Mostly, the movie's folksy charm bored me. We had seen a thousand teenagers get picked off in the darkened woods by that time, and the creature was already seen and done better in Aliens, and whatever fresh and original that this movie was bringing was lost on me.

The thing is, there is nothing fresh or original about Pumpkinhead. Pumpkinhead is a classic back-to-basics monster movie that relies on building a certain atmosphere rather than coasting along on modern horror movie cliches, and that is the reason it is so much fun to watch. It is done up in all the style that could be offered at the time, however goofy it might seem now. Being the product of the era, a really good story about the high cost of supernatural revenge is cluttered with all the trappings of excessive late 80's film making technique, however, the cheesy MTV lighting and Background Rock soundtrack begin to present a certain charm all these years later. Henrickson's stand alone leading man performance paves the way for Millenium, and Winston's FX house is firing on all cylinders bringing the nifty creation to life. The characterizations, while still archetypal, are slightly more complex than your typical late 80's scream feature, as is the overall concept and story. There is something real about the environment in which Pumpkinhead takes place, and the Razorback Hollow back story could not be more intriguing. It is all much more satisfying than most of what the big studios were churning out at the time. It's basically a modern masterpiece of macabre, and it's just in time for Halloween. For the twenty fifth time.

Fast Forward a quarter century and Pumpkinhead warrants further review. In fact, it's a wonder this film hasn't evolved into a lightly-edited (for language) basic cable holiday workhorse. There's no reason multiple generations of ten year old boys haven't made a ritual of watching this movie in the safe company of family and friends around this time of year, for the past several decades. Pumpkinhead is a film that has aged exceptionally well, and feels more like a Universal Monsters movie then it's slasher flick rip-off  brethren could ever hope to aspire. Dr. Giggles has his place as long as he knows to stand up when Pumpkinhead enters the room.

To Flea, or not to Flea?

Definitely, To Flea.

I've had some good luck when scouring the local flea market scene for unique and obscure treasures. Recent weekends are no exception.

I snagged these two classics for a measly ten dollars. It was one of those moments that I had to be consciously aware of my poker face at all times during the transaction.

Then of course I proceeded along with a hop, skip, and a jump to yet an even more intriguing purchase.

 

Yes, that's a bootleg  Takara Micro Man Cosmic Fighter, possibly even (?) utilizing restocked merchandise. There are a few things that differentiate it from any previously released version of this toy, first and foremost being that it doesn't come with a figure. This would be a bummer if the cockpit canopy weren't all chrome and sealed shut, thus rendering the issue irrelevant. Upon closer inspection you will see that there are several other accessories that are no longer present, otherwise this could be the real thing, even including what appears to be the actual Takara Micro Man decals and sticker sheet. The motorized and projectile features are there, and the tank tread is not to be mistaken with anything ever produced by Playmates. It swaps out easily with my other Micro Man toys, and it is seriously fun to play with!

I bought it for thirty bucks after talking the lady down from her original fifty, so, yes; the flea is still a place to kick collecting ass all these years later.

SPOILER!- Marvel Studios announces another obscure superhero appearing in the upcoming Guardian of The Galaxy movie!

80's Plamodel

Back in '83 I found a local hobby shop selling Japanese robot kits, and the section looked similar to the way these kits appear stacked in these boxes. Just a total disorganized mess, sometimes going back into the shelf three rows deep, with boxes on the bottom getting crushed by the weight. I spent hours digging around there. For a young guy obsessed with these things it was total sensory overload. I look back and think that my interest in building these kits could actually be evidence of huffing too much glue and paint fumes.

Over the past few years I've started gathering up these things again, only I couldn't bear to assemble and paint any of them. They are perfect examples of a moment in fantasy illustration and design that will not repeat itself. I do, however like to wrap them in clear cellophane, with the idea that doing so will help maintain the integrity of the boxes. You know, for when I'm dead and my family goes to sell them.

Jar Jar Abrahms? Bring Back The Gungan!

Last night I finally got around to watching J.J.Abrams STAR TREK for a second time, and I have to say to all the Star Wars fans out there, be careful what you wish for. 

I saw it in the theater and enjoyed it, although I've never felt the need to revisit it until the recent huge Star Wars announcement. As a dyed in the wool Star Wars fan who fell in love with Star Trek in a post Star Wars world, I can sense something missing from the equation that is Abrams STAR TREK, and I hope I'm wrong in fearing for the success of the new movies.

Watching STAR TREK for the first time as a Trekkie is a great viewing experience, mainly for the novelty of it. However, the second time as a regular ass viewer left something to be desired. Watching the reboot at the end of a long day, it became too easy to recline on the couch and fall asleep, dreaming along with the intergalactic cacophony on the screen. While it certainly has it's moments, there is something about the film that, to me, feels small, like a really great episode of a television production instead of an epic big screen extravaganza. I get the same vibe from Super 8, which to me is about as dynamic and exciting as an after school special. I think the whole 80's coming of age tribute thing falls flat. So when they say they're giving the reigns to new Star Wars over to J.J. I get a little nervous. That said, they already have my money and they know it, now all they need to do it make it somewhat worthwhile. So how will they do this?

One of the things I'll be looking for in the new trilogy is that the look and feel of the saga remain in tact. I realize the new blood is the thing we're excited about, but we don't need a more contemporary approach. Just give us the competently lit, moderately paced film with all the impossible dialogue and excruciatingly long stretches of exposition that I've come to expect. I am hoping Abrams tries to emulate Lucas, or even Marquand, and steers clear of any pretense of being a Kershner. STAR TREK is fun when taken as an updated and separate entry, however, this approach will not work for Star Wars. Follow The Beard's lead and maintain his style of film making. Don't try to reinvent the wheel and the end product will at least be watchable.

Another thing I'll be looking for is a story that makes sense beyond just being a vehicle for new Star Wars.
In fact, if there's a lesson to be learned from a lifelong love of Star Wars, it's that it makes no sense to endlessly speculate on the storyline, or one risks being sorely disappointed.  While I feel that the prequels have aged gracefully over the past decade, am excited for the possibility of  these new films tying the two trilogies together in a more cohesive manner. Sure, there's Obi-Wan and Chewie all throughout, but when we get Luke channeling Mace Windu through the Force, we will finally have something whole and complete. If Abrams can establish that type of cohesiveness I will officially be along for the ride. That said, there still isn't any real reason to continue on with these adventures within the context of the existing storyline, and whatever they devise probably isn't going to measure up to defeating the evil Galactic Empire. So the Star Wars Saga is essentially done. It becomes redundant because all the story arcs are completed, and you know what happens to your favorite character. They all start in one place and end in another, and it's all right there on screen for us to see. Well almost all principle characters have completed story arcs. There is one exception to this rule, and depending on your age group you're probably not going to like what I'm about to suggest.

By now, ten years later, it should be obvious to everyone that the only legitimate reason to make anymore Star Wars films is to reveal the fate of Jar Jar Binks. There, I said it. Loud and proud, too. Seriously, Jar Jar is the only main character whose fate is not revealed by the end of the completed saga. There were rumors of Jar Jar being revealed in the background of the Cantina scene for yet another remastered collectors edition, but that never came to pass. Perhaps he would've been seen only briefly, possibly keeping an eye on the situation. That would've been enough to satisfy his narrative. As it stands, he makes a cameo in the beginning of Revenge of the Sith, demonstrating only that he still exists somewhere, an obvious loose end in an otherwise concise storyline.  I personally feel that he needed to jump out in defense of the younglings and take a lightsaber. It would have made sense in terms of the story, while also serving to satisfy the sad, pathetic army of adult fanboys who still cling to their inner child even though the thing has been dead for years and should be put in the ground. The hatred of Jar Jar and the reactionary position on the character adopted by Lucasfilm is probably the only real structural problem in all of the six films, and with new movies on the way here is the chance to rectify the situation.

The case for a prominent role for Jar Jar is simple; He's alive somewhere and he has the most direct connection to Luke out of any surviving prequel character. That's pretty much all we need, because like all supporting characters in Star Wars, Jar Jar Binks is a mechanism utilized to further propel the story. He's basically operating on the same level as Boba Fett or Darth Maul, being a character who is one dimensional and given a few scenes, but whose main purpose is to provide actions that have consequences for the protagonist. He's only in two films, yet he has more direct impact on the story than Chewbacca does in all four of his appearances. The thing about Jar Jar is, unlike Fett or Maul, his story arc doesn't get resolved. That's an opportunity for these new films to become more relevant!

Jar Jar works in the classical literature sense as well. Do you remember getting drunk with your Star Wars buddies and discussing the subtext of the films? Well, I do. I have no problem suggesting that if  Threepio and Artoo are the greek chorus, than Jar Jar is by all means the holy fool. That's one of the few fresh archetypes offered in any Star Wars sequel, and more can be done with it. 

Finally, millions of (now) teenaged kids love the character as one of the few interesting points in a film series that was too dark and over their heads at the time of initial release. These same kids are going to require characters from "their" Star Wars and Jar Jar is the one with the most left to resolve out of any Star Wars character in any Star Wars film, period.

Jar Jar Binks ties the whole thing together like no other character can. He could be brought forward as the rebel warrior responsible for bringing the Mon Calamari on board with the cause,or he could've gone bad, awaiting his chance for redemption.  He doesn't have to be the same character that so irritated fanboys with no lives ten years ago, the point is he can be anything that will still serve the overreaching story arc without looking like yet another new character created solely to milk the cash cow. He can move the story and provide continuity without anything feeling forced. It might be a bitter pill for the resentful thirty-something goofballs, so maybe they can give him an Ewok side-kick to help remind everyone that The Phantom Menace isn't actually the worst Star Wars film..

In any case, this is the type of bold maneuver J. J. Abrams is going to have to properly execute if he wants to contribute something that doesn't follow the trend of each succeeding Star Wars sequel being less entertaining than the previous entry. It's going to take a surprising amount of creativity to make a new Star Wars film that won't be seen as being as superfluous as his STAR TREK. He'll need to lower the fan's guard and throw something truly unexpected at them, and I believe I have just offered one way to do that.

 Until such time as I'm settling in at the movie theater, I'll try to remain cautiously optimistic about these new films. That means I hope they are every bit as good as the prequels.

Not-So-Frivolous Purchases

Sometimes it's okay to spend your money on something stupid. In my case, it's thirty year old die-cast robot toys. Notice the hand painted artwork. It's like a legacy of skill and technique molded into a middle finger and aimed squarely at Adobe. I like to envision the inferred ensuing destruction occurring in the form of several or more decimated city blocks, also painted in oils. Why not? After all, the human race only gets one last stand. Or maybe two.

Yours truly, Steve A., the blase blogger, aka Matt Zen, the guy who goes six months between posts, recently found himself tossed out onto the unemployment line. Not so bad, one might say. Just the final step in the five year career of a dutiful employee working for some rich white guy's tax shelter.  But then what happens?

Within two weeks I began to develop an upset stomach. Like, a crazy, audibly gurgling, upset stomach...after all, I'm too old to be kicking about on the dole. It kept getting worse, so two days before my insurance policy expired I decided to make one last trip to the local expedited for-profit medical center to get a prescription. Boy am I glad I didn't!

Not being able to find the place (a new facility,) after several passes, I continued on to the local center of commerce. There, I stopped in at the local vintage toy store (small towns really do have the best,) thinking to discuss pawning off some part of my sizable collection, as well as make good on a previous an offer on a Converters Jumbo Defender. Lo and behold! Sitting on the floor was a pile of vintage robot toys from the era of the Real Robot, an era I hold dear. Change of plans! After examining a few pieces I made my selection and then an offer, finally walking out of the establishment with a few less cares, the least of which being an expensive prescription  that I could no more afford in my current state of employment. 

Later, after examining and polishing my new treasures, I realized something; the churning stomach that compelled me to head out the door in the first place had subsided. And with each passing day of caring for my new acquisitions, cataloging and filing, my stomach felt better.  It is as if the special treat that is tending to ones particular interests is enough to settle an inflammation and agitation that only occurs when dealing with the realities of the world as they manifest themselves outside of ones own self. In short, doing the thing that makes one happy, however ridiculous, is the action that makes one healthy.

I can't explain exactly what it is about 80's Mecha that secures my happiness, but I love talking about and considering it. Now that I'm bounding about as opposed to being bound up, I'm more willing to embrace the notion of following ones bliss, for it is most definitely the correct path for anyone not otherwise "making a good showing" with their pocketbook. Surely there is more written on this subject by wiser men, but here it is experienced to be known.

1983 Columbia Blue Angel

Dedicated to the Ladies. Another "twilight of the banana seat" great. This step-thru frame features the more aggressive looking straight down tube, an acknowledgment of the emerging BMX bicycle craze of that era, possibly even a slight nod towards Olivia Newton-John. 

I took a few leaps at the local track riding a banana seat bike, way back when,  though not the one pictured here. I seem to recall a health advantage of the wide handle bars being that they allowed one to be better able to jump clear of the contraption when crashing back to the earth after some magnificent acrobatic feat.

The after-market white wall tires really 'makes' this particular bike.

1978 HG Toys Godzilla Battles The Tricephalon Monster Playset

 

A timeless classic. When I recieved this as a youngster, the battleship was missing, so they tossed in an extra Tricephalon Monster. I wasn't complaining! Little did I know that the ship features a simple projectile launching mechanism that fires off missles that are 1/4" long by 1/16" diameter (!) The overall vibe of this playset is pure, chintzy goodness. I picked it up fairly recently for a mere $80.

1977 Murray Ram Rod I

It was the dawn of the BMX , so we used to rip on the kid with the 3/4 Banana Seat. Now we drop coin.

Do You Toy Show? Part Five

Another SCC  has come and gone, earning me some cool swag but not much loot. The show is a tradition among toy collectors around here that has sort of mutated into a full scale media celebration, whereby even casual geeks (aka "just about everyone nowadays") can feel at home surrounded by TONS of uselessness. That's a mixed blessing. As the event continues to grow, so does the need for a more intimate event like the Pittsburgh Toy Show of yore. As one who specifically collects vintage toys, I find the size and content of the current show to be distracting. As one who sets up a table and trades, I find the demographic skewering towards modern and brand new toys to be discouraging. Increasingly, when I visit SCC I come away with the feeling that Pittsburgh needs an all encompassing vintage toy show experience, complete with trains. There is a massive toy collecting community in the region, so such a thing is probably already in the works. Back here in the real world we just came through yet another Steel City Con. Here's how it went:


-I finally got to sell Bandai Godzilla/ Ultraman sofubi to a woman cosplaying as a sexy character. Poison Ivy was a tall, friendly geek, and buying them for her (no doubt) geeky son. That tiny bit of information right there just about qualifies her as the coolest woman I am going to interact with for some time. But wait, there's more!  Her friend was dressed as The Silk Specter. And there were attractive geek women at the table across the aisle from me. Hot geek chicks in costume is something I'm still getting used to. It's not what this show was about back in the day, and I like it just fine, but it will never be as awesome as the girl in a Rush t-shirt riding a bicycle. Back to the Godzilla toys for a bit, I have been hit on by mom's buying Godzilla toys so many times that, as an aging bachelor, I have begun to incorporate them into my rap.

-I sold a friend's collection Konomi Gary Anderson vehicles to a real fan. I mean at a certain point this guy lost his composure and basically handed me the entire contents of his wallet. It's rare that the guard is dropped and a buyer reveals all emotional attachment, and it's always a great thing to witness. The real joy from that type of transaction comes from finding the toys a good home, and after a person reaches ten years of age or so, the seller never really gets to see that. So it must've been a big deal to this guy and I'm happy I could help him and my friend help each other.

-I'm selling genuine antique toys now. A few days after the show I saw a wind-up tin car in pristine condition on the Antiques Road Show  being appraised at three grand. It was very similar the one I sold to an old-timer for a reasonable forty bucks. Naturally all the non-toy collecting/selling people I know are extending their condolences for me getting "took", when in reality I think ARS is whack when it comes to appraisals. The results are people who don't understand how condition is the biggest factor and not every 80 year old toy is worth a small fortune. It gets worse talking to neophytes about modern toys, which in most cases are still very attainable, yet in their minds not so. More and more people seem to be getting a prototype Boba Fett mixed up with the garden variety, and then applying the same faulty logic to the entire collection. As a guy who has been selling toys for twenty years, I can say for a fact that you will never get $100 for a complete, loose  Darth Vader figure. Not anywhere, but I still have to listen to assholes tell me how my own game is played, all the time.Urban legend and now crappy TV shows are the reason why.

-I ran into wo dudes, each named Matt or Mark (sorry guys, I'm bad with names) who were unloading some choice Macross and related, and who were also nice enough to float me a bunch of great videos for free! Then they got on a left wing New World Order conspiracy kick, which I also enjoy occasionally. More free videos. I feel like I picked up some cool stuff off of them years ago, but they weren't talking. I should have handed them all my money and pieced out the collection for the next ten years. Aside from bumping into friendly faces, these guys exemplify the need to thoroughly explore the show. They set up in the artists section, which is a considerably smaller investment than a regular dealers table, and one I avoid because I'm too afraid of getting roped into a conversation about some fictional character that I don't know or care about. This is always a fatal mistake; Macross swag, Godzilla's Gang, Bionic Bigfoot... all grails that were within reach if I had the sense to properly explore the surroundings.

-I got situtated next to and hung out with John from Strange Uncle all weekend. The guy is great and has always been extremely generous, whether pricing a vintage piece or one of the unique designs his operation continues to produce. Plus, he understands the fringe aspects of Asian cult cinema, and that makes a show neighbor so much more pleasant to be around. We traded back and forth all weekend, and half the stuff you see in my swag photo started out as his. It's also nice to know your neighbor isn't going to lift anything from your spread.

Lot's of good reasons to be at the show, for sure. It's not all touchy feely, however, there are aspects of this show that I cannot stand. Mostly things beyond the promoters control. Things like the venue itself, which is a warehouse converted into a convention center with the gobs of federal grant money awarded to Monroeville over the past decade. If you ever try to convert a warehouse into a convention center in your own neighborhood your biggest issues are parking and plumbing. At the Monroeville Convention Center, conventioneers cannot load anything into the show within an hour of the doors opening due to the massive amount of foot traffic streaming past all sides of the building. Little kids running through a stream of moving vehicles.  Inside, the sewage starts getting backed up by Saturday afternoon, in the manner of hundreds of unhealthy, inactive lifestyles. So it's not just catatonic nerd BO you have to deal with, depending on where you're situated with regards to the draft. If you're familiar with this crowd, you know that the facilities aren't ever good enough even when they offer showers.

One final thought is that maybe there was some pall cast by the wacko who shot up the Batman movie in CO. Maybe the pall was cast by the Batman movie itself. Maybe it's just that the summer show is always a bit off and nobody needs to be blowing cash on trinkets in an election year anyway. Maybe it's just me, needing to grow the hobby in some meaningful way that no one has, at least not around here. It's a strange time to be a geek, but some things "geek" will never change.

1980 Huffy Space Invader

 Banana seat bikes are great. Put a kid on one of these and they love it. Get on one yourself and at least giggle for a few minutes.

Amphitheater at Station Square UNCEREMONIOUSLY DUMPED

I'm just as guilty as anyone for not wishing the venerable asphalt parking lot cum festival tent a fond farewell. For all the decades of concert activity (and debauchery,)  you'd think people would want to do a little more reminiscing, and maybe even celebrate it's time and place in the grand scheme of Pittsburgh's pop cultural landscape. Here it is, months later, but not without heart.

IT'S BETTER TO BURN OUT THAN TO FADE AWAY

The longstanding outdoor venue escapes recollection, despite its tenure and the notable talents it hosted, for two main reasons; 1) confusing naming rights, and 2) the low rent vibe. The latter actually appeals to locals, who favor the homespun DIY aesthetic, especially when merging with live music with alcohol. The former, however, is something no one in this town can stand. So while the necessary naming rights continued to bring minor improvements to the venue's structure itself, the market never quite wrapped its head around where it was they were enjoying all these great times. So, whether the show was booked at the Melody Amphitheater, the I.C. Light Amphitheater, Chevrolet  Amphitheater, or (ugh) Trib Total Media Amphitheater, concert goers inquiring as to the location of the event merely spoke in terms of it occurring at "Station Square," the re-purposed historic center of commerce it nestled up against. By the time the Tribune Review got involved, it was utterly confusing, sounding a little too much like The Post-Gazette Pavilion, and probably sending people on wild goose chases of an unfortunately grand scale. Throughout this essay I will continue to refer to the place as "The Amphitheater At Station Square" even though no one ever really called it that, because the place never really had a name for itself. It had a vague description for itself. There aren't too many businesses that can operate that way, and the fact that this one did, as long as it did, is a testament.

Once you figured out where you were going, and if you had never been there before (and maybe were a little too used to the full scale productions promoted by the national media landscape, trotted out to the major concert venues, exclusively) you could be excused for being somewhat disappointed in the venue itself. Essentially a 1/2 mile long stretch of blacktop with a temporary stage and scaffolding, the Amphitheater at Station Square had a strictly bare-bones utilitarian vibe. It was fine, thanks solely to it's location, with panoramic views of downtown Pittsburgh's skyline, Mt. Washington and it's inclines, and even the Ft. Pitt Bridge (which looks really cool against a sunset.) It sat against train tracks, and depending on how rooted in the blues the act you were watching was, a passing train could create a memorable scene. Then the addition of a massive canopy, functioning as an ad-hock roof to shelter equipment and people who don't belong outside, diminished nearly all of  the venues magical qualities. To make it even more unpleasant they eventually added rows of folding chairs where general admission used to be, basically killing whatever good vibe the place had left. These additions would otherwise seem to makes sense except that the place was still basically a shitty parking lot in dis-use, and each attempt to elevate it only drove the point further home. Then there were the bathroom trailers. The facilities at The Amphitheater at Station Square bathrooms notoriously sub-par, the kind of glorified port-o-john that had flushing toilets and not nearly enough capacity to keep a drunk metal fan from pissing in the sink. Other amenities would eventually include a variety of food and drink vendors (beer!) a side stage, and some picnic tables. As I said, in the glamorous world of entertainment, all very low-rent. Yet, good. There was something to the idea that it didn't matter if you broke something, or regurgitated a gallon of cheap beer right out in the open. It was as if the parking lot scene was NOT replaced by the inside venue scene, as happens with most venues. A certain fluidity or continuity was afforded in this way, and it showed in the crowd atmosphere at any given show. Every time you went there there was something to comment on, or bellyache about, but you always had a great time, always talked to some new people, always came away with fond memories.

MEMORIES OF AN OBSOLETE CONCERT VENUE

1988- We headed down to the embryonic 500 seat general admission Station Square Festival Tent to see 80's metal guitar god Yngwie Malmsteen. It had rained earlier and the show was postponed due to water collecting on a stage full of electrical equipment. As the enthusiastic crowd continued to line up, I ran into one of the three girls I had kissed up to that point, as well as Greg from the old neighborhood and school, and finally some weirdo from the North Side. After more than an hour, Yngwie emerged from the entrance of the tent and waved to his adoring, cheering fans, then climbed aboard his bus and drove away. WTF?! The girls went back to Bloomfield, and us guys conspired to get some beer and convince them to join us, except we were all underage. All, except for the weirdo, who hopped in our car and took us on a winding ride through the slopes of downtown Pittsburgh. As he ran into his house, for reasons we couldn't know, Greg leaned over and advised us that he knew the area and that the guy was driving us in circles. Then the guy hopped back into the car and we headed to Oakland, to pick up a case at the Uni-Bev. While the guy was inside Greg started freaking out, so we decided it was wiser to ditch the strange fellow, and we sped off into the night, laughing hysterically over our misadventure. Great memory!

1996- We headed down to the I.C. Light Amphitheater to witness The Pirates Ball, one of the great underrated, under-documented hippy concerts of the era. The Band cancelled out, as Levon was on a downturn, but we all quickly got over it because the great Vince Welnick and The Missing Man Formation were there for a rare live appearance. We all got ripped and danced our asses off. People were laughing and singing, Steve Cooperstien won the Jerry Garcia look-a-like contest, and for a brief moment in time Pittsburgh did quite literally seem like the West Coast of the East Coast. Great memory!

2000- I escorted my girlfriend, a striking beauty with a serious case of Farm Girl Rage, to the annual Rib and Wing cook-off, and saw some classic rock act that I don't remember.  The small town pageant winner/ race queen was ever so susceptible to flattery and loved making her companion jealous by basking in the attention of total strangers, but this trip took it to another level. As we continued to imbibe and the nature of her helplessness grew more apparent, she was spotted by one of the more experienced "marketing reps" working the crowd, and so we were both invited aboard the Cutty Sark traveling promotional vehicle. That was one of the first places I ever spilled a drink merely by trying to put it to my lips, while the muscled Lothario in charge of the operation cuddled with the aforementioned slut and attempted to persuade my girl to join them on their merry way. Naturally, she was ready to make the leap to fame and fortune via the back of a tour bus, expecting me to wait for her return. For days after the guy called and tried to persuade her, and she kept seeking my approval when all I could say to her was to do what she had to do. A short time later when we broke up, her friends would use that as an intelligent rational for my being too "controlling," but the truth is, by that time, the bitch had entered into a respectable career and now even has a family. Great memory!

2008- By this point I had been to the venue dozens of times, with different crowds, witnessing all the permutations, all the great music I love to see live. I had seen Grinch end their hard won success by standing on stage advocating killing the pigs and then never materialize again anywhere, ever. I had entered the music trivia challenge and been stumped by the shitty 'DVE playlist I had forced from my consciousness decades earlier. I had stood outside the Green Day show passing out flyers for my own fledgling concert promotion attempts, and did not cheat on the Cutty Sark wannabe even though it was probably the right thing to do. This would be my last visit to the place, when we would finally get to witness the great Levon Helm live in concert (on the drums, with Laryngitis) opening for The Black Crows. This is when my aging hearing decided that earplugs were essential concert gear, and that a venue leaning up against the side of a cliff didn't need to be so loud. The Crows are typically great, and the crowd was fun, as usual. Luckily enough, I didn't drop ALL of the joints I had rolled when reaching into my pocket for the ticket at the admission booth, and what was initially a disappointment gradually morphed into the satisfaction of knowing I probably made some unsuspecting, scuzzy-looking burnout's entire week. There would be a few other acts to appear at this venue that I might've enjoyed seeing, but by now I've seen hundreds of concerts, and my evolving musical tastes (combined with the fact that I've been rocking out rather than advancing my career) were keeping me firmly situated at the $15 or under club level.

THE END

As happens, the Amphitheater could not survive the onslaught of the big corporations who like to pray on situations like the one we currently face, which is a low turn out for live performance in light of a bygone era of giant concert venues placed ridiculously far outside of city limits. What the big money can do is get the laws re-written, get the tax breaks to allow them to correct the situation that the little guy has been chipping away at for years. So the out of town hawks swooped in and built a sparkling new, mid-size facility in the vain of the Amphitheater at Station Square, on the opposite side of town where the big development push is occurring. They locked in all the struggling mid-size touring acts and strangled the like-sized local promoters. It even has a shitty naming rights name, right from the start, but it has already made more of an impact in three years than the Amphitheater could in as many decades. Stage AE is definitely the venue for it's time, but so was the Amphitheater at Station Square. The differences are on the surface (newness, high levels of functionality and versatility) and underneath (corporate infiltration of what was once sub-culture) with AE taking all the honors. It's an actual building facing a wave of entertainment options and audiences not accustomed to festival crowds and atmosphere, therefore it feels more like watching something through a monitor in your living room. That doesn't necessarily have to translate to less of a good time, but it makes me wonder how far can it go? Will the new venue operate for decades and what will it look and feel like by that time? Will audiences for live music still exist? What happens when the music biz completely tanks and the Ohio promoters pull out? We'll have to wait and see. Stage AE is a classy upgrade, for sure, although it probably indicates more about the currently sad state of Rock 'N' Roll than any mismanagement on the part of the Amphitheater. With little choice, Pittsburghers will now be going to the North Side to Rock out, shelling out for absurd ticket surcharge fees, paying more for parking, and paying craft beer prices for the terrible selection of Canadian beers. Probably getting arrested for public drunkeness at a higher rate, too.  In the end it's just as well, and I'll be among them soon enough, admiring all the glitz and conducting myself like a guest at somebodies house, all while being thankful that there is at least SOME place still around to enjoy the time honored tradition of seeing a favorite musical act perform. In fact, I've already starting creating fond memories of the new place, yet it will never be mine.

Maybe fifteen years from now, when Stage AE is finally converted to cheap office space, some thirty something dude will wax philosophic and try to convince readers that the pop-cultural world is changing maybe not for the better. That's the next generation's duty, and it will be framed within the context of fuzzy memories, generated by a spirit of carelessness and discovery. That's  the same spirit by which I fondly recall the Amphitheater at Station Square (or whatever you call it) and with luck I will continue to pull from that as I grow into an old man. It was a great, trashy run, and it lives on in people's hearts whether they realize it or not.

"Si! El Robot es muy loco!"