Trickle of Consciousness

Ah, Good Times...

Fri, 03 Jul 2009 04:09:16 GMT

So, watching Troy on TV inevitably made me think of Handy, which lead to the YouTube:

EDIT: And here's the original:

Domesticity

Tue, 16 Jun 2009 15:39:54 GMT

I got excited when I found some affordable wire shelf-stuff that will let us make use of a lot of unused space in our over-sized, under-shelved kitchen cabinets.

Then I got depressed because I just got excited about shelving.

I Plan on Shooting Lightning Soon

Fri, 12 Jun 2009 14:51:07 GMT

Wow, but technology isn't liking me lately. Two days ago, our fridge burned out. Last night, my car battery took a big, giant poop. Perhaps I'm storing up power for some alien metamorphosis. In any case, no one should be surprised if there's an area brown out sometime within the next week. I'm just saying.

Last Minute Promotion: Also, I'm singing there, too. :)

Fri, 22 May 2009 19:46:29 GMT

BROADWAY CABARET
Venice Theatre-Main Stage
140 West Tampa Avenue * on Venice Island
Sunday- May 24, 2009 7p.m.
Musical Direction by Rick Bogner and Jason Brenner
Featuring
Larry Alexander

Larry played Marius in the original Broadway production of Les Miserables. He has performed with Liza Minelli and in numerous regional and international roles.

Kim Kollar

Eve Caballero

He will be joined by local talent: Eve Caballero, Kim Kollar, and a very special group of actors, to benefit an educational opportunity for our local performer, Lauren Kelly, to attend IPOP, (International Presentation of Performers), in Las Vegas this summer.

Lauren Kelly

Tickets: Call Sally at 941-228-3562 $15-Adults $10-Students
All tickets for reserved seating – Order Now!

Someone got paid for this

Mon, 23 Mar 2009 01:00:10 GMT

I let this kind of thing go at the grocery store, because, you know, the express lane gaffe is rather a tradition. But: no, Gatorade. I don't want to know how much money you've sunk into your campaign to tell me that G2 has "less calories." You're stabbing my brain here. Stop it. Now.

In which there may be something valentinish

Fri, 13 Feb 2009 14:14:46 GMT

It's not often I find myself possessed of the need to write something specific. I often have the urge to write, mind you, or have an idea bouncing around, but most of the time I can shunt that aside to a point in time when I can indulge it. But sometimes, my brain gets a little insistent. Such was the case with the following, where the opening sentence was threatening to pound its way out of my forehead from the inside if I didn't put it down. And once I sat down with it, I discovered there were all sorts of other sentences lined up and just as insistent.

Mind you, I make absolutely no pretense of literary merit here. But since my brain insisted this needed to be written, and stotangirl

suggested it might make a nice little Valentine for folks, I am sharing.

In Which

1: In which we begin

It’s possibly pedantic to begin with one (plus potentially alliterative, apparently), but if that’s the only reason you have not to, it’s only contrary to do otherwise. So, one happens to be where things begin, though it crops up more than once. One was the number of the apartment, the number of human occupants (Aaron), the number of avian occupants (his parrot, Bastian), and also—though clearly it strains credibility to have so very many ones cluttered together—the number of words that Aaron had taught Bastian in the year since he got him.

“Shit!”

Honestly, it wasn’t that Bastian was stupid. In point of fact, Bastian was quite bright (and we really need to stop alliterating, so we’ll be done with that now, shall we?). He learned rather quickly, after all, how to open his cage door with some contorting and simultaneous beak / claw work. He learned where Aaron kept the food. Then he learned where Aaron moved the food to once Aaron caught Bastian in said food. He even managed to figure out how to turn on the faucet when he was thirsty, though Aaron had yet to see him do it, so he wasn’t quite sure how that one worked.

“Shit!”

“Now, that’s plenty, don’t you think?”

It was for all these reasons that Aaron knew Bastian wasn’t failing to learn new words, but that he was simply happy with the one he had. Quite happy. In fact, nearly every time the bird piped it up, he sounded like he was celebrating. He probably was. Though whether he was celebrating some secret bird-happiness or merely the look of consternation on Aaron’s face was anyone’s guess.

2: In which we move

Dean was a little contrary. For one thing, he ruined a perfectly good numerical pattern by living in Apartment Five. And even if you counted the two mice he kept (Lanie and Ernie), there were still only three in that apartment. Also, Dean had an aversion to chocolate. Like I said: contrary.

Mind you, Lanie and Ernie were nice enough. And Dean had built a rather elaborate tube-maze for the two of them to explore at their whim. Which they did, though sometimes they chose instead to simply cuddle together in the back of their cage, surrounded by the small mound of wood shavings they had collected.

This happened to be what they were doing at the moment, though it was unclear if this was the cute bonding one might believe or merely the response of two very small mammals trying to conserve warmth. After all, Dean had chosen to open all the windows in the apartment on a very chilly day, resulting in something of a small, cold gale moving through the place.

As we’ve previously noted that Dean was contrary, I should now point out that this wasn’t one of his contrary whims. Instead, Dean had rather thoroughly burned the pancakes he was trying to make. Since they were meant to be banana and walnut pancakes, this was a real shame. And a real smell, as well as an awful noise when the smoke detector had gone off. So, perhaps Lanie and Ernie were shielding each other from the smell or the noise.

Whatever the reason, Dean hadn’t noticed the cuddling. He was busy scraping charred banana out of the pan and fanning the smoke detector until it finally stopped blaring at him. And while he left the apartment to air out, he took the garbage bag with the blackened remains of his breakfast-for-dinner and walked to the dumpster.

3: In which you really shouldn’t be surprised

The dumpster, of course, was downstairs, which lead Dean and his charbroiled-banana-smelling garbage right past the cracked window of Apartment One. And, as might be obvious, lead to a celebratory exclamation through said window.

“Shit!”

“Yeah, sorry about that,” Dean said as he passed.

“Shut up!” yelled another voice from inside the apartment.

“Geez, sorry,” Dean yelled back.

There was a rustling and fumbling, and the door flew open. Dean had braced for a confrontation, but what he saw was an embarrassed and contrite Aaron.

“I’m sorry,” he said, “I didn’t mean you, I was ... shit.” Aaron fumbled for words.

“Shit!” Bastian happily echoed.

“Him. The parrot. I was ... him: shut up.”

Dean relaxed and smiled. Aaron, for his part, looked a bit flushed.

“Well, he’s not wrong. It does smell like shit,” Dean offered, holding up his garbage bag. Now Aaron finally smiled.

“I got distracted laughing at the commercial for natural male enhancement. Thus: burned banana.”

“I ...”

“Oh, come on,” Dean prodded. “If that wasn’t the perfect set-up line, I don’t know one.”

Aaron bit his lip a moment, then nodded.

“I hate it when natural male enhancement burns my banana,” he finally said, and Dean laughed.

“There you go. Well, now that I’ve embarrassed myself confusing a parrot for a person and encouraging horrible banana-innuendo, I need to get this to the dumpster.”

“Oh! Right, you go take your dump, then ... I mean--”

Dean grimaced. “Now you’re just wrong,” he chided. “Though we did say this smelled like shit, yes?”

“Shit!” Bastian trumpeted.

“What can you do, the bird knows ... um, doo, yeah?” Dean admitted, then waved as he finished his chore and blithely wondered how long he’d need to air out the apartment.

4: In which other people weigh in

“You actually said more than two words to the cute guy upstairs and you made a shit joke?”

Having never met Charity’s parents, Aaron chose to believe that they had named their daughter ironically. Otherwise, her formative years must have been a terrible disappointment. Still, she was his closest friend. One of his only friends, come to think of it, and however brash she might be, she could always be counted on to speak her mind.

“I didn’t do it on purpose.”

On the other end of the phone, Charity sighed loudly, and apparently expelled some of her venom, since her voice softened.

“Well, of course you didn’t mean it. You were nervous. I mean, it’s not like you expected to be talking to your stalking victim.”

“I’m not a stalker.” Aaron flopped back on his bed and stared at the ceiling. Which, he noticed, had inexplicably developed some mold in one corner. He’d need to talk to the landlord about that.

“No. You’ve just been watching him for a year without speaking to him.”

“You make it sound like I sit outside his window at night and collect bits of hair from his garbage. I just ... he’s just so pretty, you know? I can’t ever get past ‘hi.’”

“Ooh, maybe if you were high you could – “

“No, Charity. Once. That was it, I told you.”

“Party pooper.”

“Now who’s making shit jokes?”

“Still you.”

“Point.”

“So, anyway,” Charity said, perking up a bit, “You had a whole, you know, exchange. That’s a step, right?”

Aaron chuckled. “I suppose.”

“Now we just need to figure out how you’re going to bump into him next, and you need to remember not to make any more—“

“Hang on,” Aaron said. He had, as Charity plotted, realized there was a familiar, clinking noise coming from the other room. Sure enough, it was followed by the flapping of wings. But as Aaron moved to try to retrieve Bastian, there was a new noise. A slight squeak, then a second clinking.

When he looked, Aaron saw no sign of Bastian. Not at the food. Not at the sink. Not at the window. The window which, you may recall, was cracked, but which was now opened further. And the window whose screen appeared to have been popped out at one corner. A corner, it’s probably relevant to note, which had a bright green feather snagged on it.

“Shit!” This time the word didn’t come from the parrot, and it wasn’t celebratory.

5: In which both doors and windows open

You will no doubt recall that Apartment One wasn’t the only residence with an open window. Now, while Dean’s screens were generally more secure than Aaron’s, he had been absent a screen altogether for the small window in the bathroom. This was normally nothing to worry about, as he never really opened the bathroom window. The wind had a tendency to blow the door shut rather loudly, which was something of a nuisance.

But today, still haunted by the lingering aroma of blackened bananas and walnuts, Dean had propped the bathroom door open with a heavy pair of boots and opened the window, hoping the extra breeze could free him from the dinner he would never eat but seemed cursed to smell for quite some time.

There should be no mystery to anyone but Dean, then, how Bastian came to be sitting atop Lanie and Ernie’s cage, calmly preening himself. Nonplused, Dean stood a moment, until the bird looked up and excitedly declared his usual, “Shit!”

“Back for more, then?” Dean answered, amused. “Well, there’s nothing but the smell, birdie. All the food’s gone bye-bye.”

“Shit!” Bastian responded, waddling across the top of the cage with a slight clinking.

“Now, come off of there, or you’ll scare the—“

It seems that while bird cages and mouse cages are of different shapes, the latches of same—at least in this case—were remarkably similar, as Lanie and Ernie’s cage, Dean now noticed, was open.

“Shit!”

“Shut up!”

6: In which words and silences are exchanged

Having hung up on Charity and rushed outside to try to catch sight of his bird, Aaron quite easily heard the familiar exchange between Dean and Bastian. He headed upstairs and knocked on the door of Apartment Five.

“It’s not locked!” came the cry.

Aaron paused a moment, steeling himself, then opened the door. Bastian sat calmly atop a small cage on a table in one corner. Dean was notably un-calm, scrutinizing the tube maze frantically.

“Ernie!” he called out happily.

“Actually, it’s Aaron, but I don’t think we ever officially met, so—“

“No, no. I found Ernie. He’s still in the maze,” Dean said, still only barely acknowledging Aaron’s presence. He turned now, however, and his relief quickly shifted back to franticness.

“Lanie!”

Dean all but dove across the floor, landing at Aaron’s feet, and as Aaron jumped out of the way and Bastian flew back out the bathroom window with a squawk, Aaron realized he’d left the door open. And now he saw what Dean was trying to reach for, as a small mouse quickly scurried out the opening.

Dean scrambled to his feet, rushing out the door, Aaron close on his heels, but in the bad light of dusk, neither one of them could see the mouse.

“I’m sorry,” Aaron muttered. “I didn’t know—“

“Whatever,” Dean snapped, turning on Aaron. “I guess I should be glad that damn bird didn’t eat them.”

“Well, he’s not an owl or a falcon, right?” Aaron tried by way of humor. Dean wasn’t laughing. With nothing more than a glare, Dean walked back into his apartment and shut the door.

Aaron had his hand poised to knock again, but couldn’t bring himself to do so. He shuffled back downstairs, where Bastian stood in front of his apartment door, shuffling from one foot to another.

“Shit!” the bird called upon seeing Aaron.

“Exactly,” Aaron agreed.

7: In which favors and other things are returned

Aaron made sure to re-secure his screen and firmly close the window after he put Bastian back in his cage. After that, honestly, he had little enough energy to do much of anything but take a quick shower, then collapse into bed.

An itch at his ear woke him some time later, at which point Aaron found out just where Lanie had gotten to, as he opened his eyes to see the mouse perched on his shoulder. He jumped at this, but Lanie was far less skittish than Aaron, and so she waited patiently on the bed until he realized she wasn’t a household pest, but the absent pet from Apartment Five.

As Lanie allowed Aaron to pick her up, the man also realized that there was a smell he didn’t recognize. And just as he realized the smell was of something burning, the smoke detector went off.

The front hall was on fire.

Aaron did, at least, have the proper extinguisher for such a blaze, but by the time he’d located it and used it, the front hallway was blackened. And the front door was being pounded upon.

Please don’t feign surprise to discover it was Dean on the other side of the door.

“What the hell are you burning? It’s three in the morning!”

Saddened by the loss of one of his pets, Dean had secured Ernie and fallen asleep on the couch. All the windows but the bathroom still open to air out the pancake smell, Dean cocooned himself in a thick comforter to stave off the night chill, though he slept fitfully due to his simply modest success in that regard. So he was quickly and easily awakened by the alarm from downstairs. And in no mood to let it continue for a single minute without reacting.

“I wasn’t ... it was a fire ... and I ...” It was at this moment, looking at the drowsy and frustrated Dean, that Aaron remembered.

“Lanie,” he said, holding the mouse up. “That’s her name, right? She woke me up when the fire started.”

Dean, for his part, was suitably surprised by the turn of events, and happily accepted the return of his small friend. As he stood in the doorway, Aaron moved back to the hall, looking for what might have started the fire.

“Looks like something ... chewed this wire,” Aaron observed, pointing to the blackest part of the damage. He looked up, pointing. “Knew that mold wasn’t normal. Looks like a leak. Water plus exposed wiring...”

“Mouse Discovers Fire,” Dean said, entering. He had become suitably contrite as Aaron discovered the source of the damage. “Oh, geez, Lanie’s never been out of her cage before, but I guess—“

Aaron held up a hand, and shrugged. “She wouldn’t be out if it weren’t for Bastian.”

“He couldn’t have gotten in if I’d called the landlord about the screen back when I noticed it.”

Aaron wrinkled his nose. “I think your pancakes definitely smelled better.”

This time, Dean did laugh.

“Look, my burned pancake smell’s pretty much gone, but I think this is probably going to take a lot more to fix. So maybe ... why don’t you crash at my place for the night?”

8: In which things add up

If it wouldn’t have made for an awful pun, Aaron might have waffled at the invitation, but unlike Dean, Aaron wasn’t quite so contrary. And so Aaron and Bastian relocated upstairs for the evening. As Bastian tucked his beak under his wing, Aaron made ready to take his place on the couch.

“Thanks again for this,” he said.

“You know, maybe they have the right idea,” Dean returned. Aaron walked over to see what he was looking at. Lanie and Ernie, reunited, were snuggled up together in the back of the cage.

“Apartment’s still cold from having the windows open so long,” Dean said, looking to Aaron. “I’m just saying.”

Aaron opened his mouth to say something, but only managed to stutter, then blush. And at that moment, Bastian found a new word.

“Kiss!”

Aaron blushed more deeply. It seems that two fires, two escaped animals, and one cold apartment lead to five occupants in Apartment Five. So perhaps Dean wasn’t as contrary as he seemed.

“Kiss!”

“Exactly,” Dean said. And they did.

Reefer apparently also causes amnesia

Fri, 09 Jan 2009 19:45:01 GMT

The first review:

High times at Venice Theatre's Stage II with Reefer Madness by Kay Kipling.

Normally, I post reviews without commenting, but honestly I really can't be silent on this one. I don't see how Kipling could have watched our production through to the end and then forgot about David Walker's performance as Ralph. I understand wanting to perhaps avoid "spoilers," since a lot of Ralph's exploits are of the shocking variety and probably best enjoyed without warning. But, seriously, to not even mention his name? Really? I have to call a massive foul on that one. My best guess is that she left at intermission, since Ralph has very little stage time until the madness of the title gets into full swing in Act II.

But whether she slipped out at intermission or simply slipped on the sidewalk on her way out, I can't let this one go without claiming a big foul, not on the play, but on the critic.

Reefer Makes You Crazy Barking Mad!

Wed, 17 Dec 2008 21:05:04 GMT

The year is 1936, and America faces its most insidious threat yet. The new drug menace: Marihuana! Don't be deceived, this may be the greatest danger to the youth of our nation. Watch as Venice Theatre re-enacts the ALL TRUE STORY of the horrors of the demon weed.

Innocent teens Jimmy Harper and Mary Lane are about to face the perversions of the reefer den: slick and sinister Jack, his bruised lady Mae, siren Sally, and maniacal Ralph. One puff on the wicked ganja leads inevitably to tawdry flesh! Pagan gods! Violence! Buckets of blood! Jesus and showgirls! How can the young sweethearts hope to survive?

Why are you laughing? This is DEADLY SERIOUS BUSINESS! Don't make us start singing to prove our point!

Where: Venice Theatre
When: Jan 8 - Feb 1, 2009
Tuesdays – Saturdays 8pm
Sundays 2pm

Click here for info and tickets

Reefer Madness Research: At the Source

Thu, 04 Dec 2008 16:08:47 GMT

Well, I feel silly. I was trying to look up one of the books referenced in the script, and ye olde Google pointed out what I'd missed when I originally hit the Reefer Madness website: They have a propaganda page with excerpts from some of their source material. Click the link above if you're interested in just how crazed folks got trying to take on "The Demon Weed."

Link Parking: Reefer Madness Research

Tue, 11 Nov 2008 20:08:10 GMT

Probably only of interest to one or two folks (if that), but that's really nothing new. The result of me looking up references for things I didn't recognize in the Reefer Madness script (mostly via Wikipedia), or things I wanted to know more about in context:

Barney Google

Barney Google at Toonopedia

Reet Petite

Major Bowes Amateur Hour

Harry Anslinger

William Randolph Hearst

Being Alive

Sat, 04 Oct 2008 14:13:31 GMT

The song "Company" builds to:

We're heading into the final three performances (two today, one tomorrow). So, if you want a chance to see the non-fuzzy digital camera version, you want to get a move on.

Under the Radar

Fri, 03 Oct 2008 16:18:38 GMT

Missed this review:

'Company' is classic Sondheim by Kim Cool

(Factual corrections: The girls' number is actually "You Could Drive a Person Crazy," and Bonnie's last name is Schiavone)

Marry Me A Little

Sun, 28 Sep 2008 15:26:57 GMT

So, after the set and the costumes and the mics and the lighting are all done, here's what "Marry Me a Little" looks like:

Reviews are Company

Fri, 26 Sep 2008 16:40:46 GMT

Last night we opened, and we have two reviews:

The Players Theatre opens the door to Company. by Kay Kipling

Here comes 'Company' by Jay Handelman

Marry Me a Little

Sun, 21 Sep 2008 03:25:27 GMT

Long tech Sunday for Company is tomorrow. I got some video to try to see myself and fix stupid things I might be doing. If I figured out YouTube right, this should be Marry Me a Little. Piano's a little loud because David was right next to the pit, but I thought it might be a fun little preview:

Furniture is Company

Thu, 18 Sep 2008 13:29:38 GMT

More additions to the set. This time, some of the vintage furniture. The director's a fan of the era that "Company" was first produced in, so: a Barcelona couch

And an egg chair:

Scaffolding is Company

Wed, 17 Sep 2008 14:36:35 GMT

We had our first rehearsal on what's built of the set last night:

Right now it's still in progress. We're missing steps and railings in places, and most of the set dressing. There's also some bracing that needs doing, so last night was rather interesting, with the set bouncing underneath us when we walked on it.

Especially with a set with so many levels, it's always a challenge to translate things from rehearsal space onto the set. Everything's just enough off and different to throw you, but I think we're managing. And tonight we'll hopefully have those missing stairs.

Want some Company?

Sun, 14 Sep 2008 05:32:17 GMT

Bobby is a charming New York bachelor about to turn 35, and as he faces his birthday, his married friends are bound and determined to change the bachelor part. But between fiercely competitive Harry and Sarah, divorced-but-cohabitating Peter and Susan, "square" Jenny and David, terrified Amy and fiance Paul, and jaded Joanne with third husband Larry, Bobby's not quite sure what to make of marriage.

And then there are the women Bobby's dating. Is flighty flight attendant April more than a one night stand? Maybe Kathy, as out of place as she feels in New York, can help Bobby find his own place in the world. Then again, there's Marta--the self-declared soul of New York--who may know just what Bobby's real problem is.

Mix in equal amounts of frantic humor, touching honesty, and the angst of being alone in a crowd, and you have George Furth and Stephen Sondheim's musical of independance and commitment, isolation and connection: Company

Where: Sarasota Players at The Players Theatre
When: Sept 25 - Oct 5, 2008
Tuesdays – Saturdays 8pm (7:30pm opening night)
Sundays 2pm
Double performance Saturday, October 4 (2pm and 8pm)

Click here for tickets

The power strip is not a chew toy

Tue, 22 Jul 2008 16:16:13 GMT

So, random link-surfing from looking up stuff on Dr. Horrible lead me to Felicia Day's The Guild. I'm only in the middle of the third episode and I've laughed out loud a few too many times. I don't want to spoil any gags, so here, watch the first ep:

Overheard at the Y

Fri, 18 Jul 2008 13:23:48 GMT

"It's not the bullet that kills you. It's the gunpowder."

It's like high school paraphrasing

Thu, 10 Jul 2008 14:05:56 GMT

Sometimes, I really should know better. But, what the hell, I figured "Harry Potter fans will love it," was more marketing than anything else, so I picked up Emily Drake's The Magickers on a lark with a gift card and finally got around to starting it.

Okay, the protagonist (Jason) has his invitation to magic camp preceded by several visitations by birds. Crows, not owls, mind, and bird-as-messenger isn't exactly a whole cloth invention by Rowling, so we'll go with it. Neither are orphans, I suppose. Or bullies with blond hair and boneheaded stooges. And the bullies are from before camp, so they'll be gone soon. And, okay, so he meets an awkward boy and a bright-eyed girl to make friends with on the bus to camp, but that's still something of a standard for these kinds of stories of child-heroes. Give it time, I think.

But then, when the kids get to camp, they're ~~sorted~~ given cabin assignments by a rhyming well, and our hero is attacked by a nasty thing that marks him with a scar (but wait! It's on his hand and it's a crescent! That's totally different).

Seventy pages in, and I think I have quite used up whatever benefit my doubt had. I'm sure that there are enough differences to avoid copyright infringement outright, but whether they're meant to be winks to HP fans or poorly-masked analogues, either way it's just tired and derivative. Bleh.

I suppose I shouldn't be surprised the elder gods like mudding...

Tue, 06 May 2008 16:27:51 GMT

Forgot to mention: seen on the way to the store on Free Comic Book Day

Just so you're clear, it's not just the plate, it's also the bumper sticker:

In case it's too blurry, that's "My cultist sacrificed your honor student at Muskatonic Middle School." Not visible: the truck also had a Cthulhu fish on the back window. Now, on a beat up compact, I expect these sorts of things. On a giant pickup truck? I guess that's what you call mainstreaming.

Modernization = reduced literacy?

Mon, 05 May 2008 18:31:57 GMT

I think I'm pretty open about taking changes in stride when it comes to the rebooted Power Pack. I enjoy the new stories for the most part, and I've been having fun with the latest Power Pack: Day One retelling / update of the origin. It seemed concise to have Julie naming the Snarks, for example, and I was even digging on the new, more sarcastic Smartship Friday introduced in the most recent issue. That said, I can't help but be disappointed Fred Van Lente decided that Power Pack's alien mentor Whitey (originally a fan of Earth literature whose intelligent ship, Friday, took its name from Robinson Crusoe) now learns English by watching old movies, and his ship's named after His Girl Friday.

I guess it just seems sad to me that even advanced alien races apparently no longer read. For that matter, if we're updating things, is a 1940s movie really any more relevant to a young audience than a classic novel that still shows up on school reading lists?

Get free comics where you get free books

Fri, 02 May 2008 14:13:01 GMT

So, I'm skimming the blurb at Creative Loafing about Free Comic Book Day on Saturday, and I was happy to discover two of the local shops seem to be taking the outreach part of this day to heart:

[Y]ou can also get your sequential art swag at Sarasota County's Fruitville Library (noon-3 p.m., sponsored by Pop Comics and Games) or the North County Library (10 a.m.-noon, sponsored by The Dark Side). North County will have local artist Kent Bonifield on hand to show young and old how it's done.

I think part of the problem with getting new comic book readers is getting new readers in general, so it's nice that the stores are just as willing to tempt folks to the local library as they are to their own shelves. Good on them.

Son of Review

Thu, 10 Apr 2008 15:17:39 GMT

'All Shook Up' rocks the stage at Manatee Players by Eric Delp