There’s a new wrinkle to the war against Jerry Siegel and Joe Shuster and Superman that goes beyond what’s in the play The History of Invulnerability, which I told you about earlier this week. It seems Ohio wants to offer a special license plate commemorating that state as the “Birthplace of Superman” for the 75th anniversary of the creation of the Man of Steel, but DC Comics and Warner Bros. have objected to the wording.

Nate Beeler, a staff cartoonist for the Columbus Dispatch commented on the brouhaha with the cartoon below, which I spotted over at Daryl Cagle’s blog.

No one’s really sure why there’s an objection to the wording of the plate, but Ohio is attempting to come up with an acceptable alternative. Beeler worries that those alternatives might also be found unacceptable:

Everybody knows Superman is a fictional character who comes from the fictional planet Krypton and grew up in the fictional town of Smallville. What people might not know is that he was created in Cleveland by the legendary Jerry Siegel and Joe Shuster. The license plate is a nice way of bringing attention to the great cultural contribution of these Ohioans. If the wording is changed to something like “Birthplace of the creators of Superman,” I just hope that DC Comics won’t object by saying, “But Superman’s parents, Jor-El and Lara, were also from Krypton!”

As for me, there’s something I find unacceptable, but believe me, it ain’t the slogan.

I’ve been reading—and loving—Rudy Rucker‘s autobiography Nested Scrolls. It’s beautifully written, and in addition to learning more about the guy than I’ve ever known, I’m also getting to see from a different perspective parts of science fiction history I lived through.

Sometimes, though, that creates a mystery. For example, I just caught up with 1985, and an incident that occurred at that year’s NASFiC in Austin.

Here’s what Rucker wrote about an intriguing panel held that year. (more…)

I went to Theater J on Sunday to catch a matinee performance of The History of Invulnerability, a play based on the real-life tragedy of how Jerry Siegel and Joe Shuster got screwed out of the rights to Superman, and my feelings are complex. What isn’t complex, though, is my feeling that you should rush to see it if you can, so let’s get that out of the way first. The final performances are on July 8, so you have a few weeks, but don’t dawdle. It’s well worth your time.

But I’ve been wondering, as I struggle to parse my reaction to this play, whether it’s possible to be too close to the material to see it clearly.

Oh, who am I kidding? Of course I’m too close to the material to see it clearly! I’ve been a hardcore comics fan as far back as I can remember, I was working in comics when the first Superman movie was about to be released and justice was being demanded for Siegel and Shuster, I already know all the crimes committed against the Man of Steel’s creators, and last year I even attempted to win some of Jerry Siegel’s hair at auction!

Plus (and this ought to give you an idea of how invested I am in this shameful tale out of comics history) I already had such a feeling of hatred for Harry Donenfeld and Jack Liebowitz going in that I literally started hissing at a certain point when one of them took the stage and started speaking, and had to squelch that visceral reaction once I realized what I was doing. So I don’t come to this play with a clean slate, able to judge this play the way I would a different one not based on a topic already embedded in my DNA. (more…)

I’m on the mailing list for Heritage Auctions due to the fact that I’d hired them to sell a few items for me back in 2010, sales which paid for my trip to that year’s Melbourne Worldcon. I love getting those emails from them, because it’s always fun to see what others are selling that I could never possibly afford. And what makes me salivate the most is always the original art rather than the comics.

This week I was alerted to a couple of auctions, still ongoing, of the complete originals to two EC Comics stories which, in a sad coincidence, may be more interesting to some than they would have been a couple of weeks ago—because they’re both based on stories written by the late Ray Bradbury.

The first, ““Mars is Heaven!” was drawn by Wally Wood. It currently has a bid of $19,000 and is expected to bring in between $30,000 and $50,000.

The other Bradbury-inspired story is “The Flying Machine,” drawn by Bernard Krigstein, which has a current bid of $9,500 and an expected final price of from $7,000 to $9,000. (more…)

I guess it makes some weird kind of sense that I’m following up a post on how I’m struggling to stay fit with one that talks about what I’ll be putting in my mouth during Worldcon this August. But that’s the way I roll.

I have only one meal nailed down—a 36th anniversary dinner at Girl and the Goat, where I look forward to eating pig face, crispy goat skin, and smoked duck fat. There are a few other gastronomical wonders I’m hoping for, such as the playground that is Alinea and the apparent perfection that is Next, but neither of those is a certainty. In fact, far from being locks, they may be impossibilities. But I can dream, can’t I?

And then there are the less exclusive joints, the sorts of places I’ve been visiting during my travels thanks to tips from Adam Richman of Man v. Food. Will I find the marvel that was Bruges Waffles and Frites, which I visited during this year’s World Horror Convention in Salt Lake City, or the disappointment that was the Old Salty Dog in Sarasota? I have no idea. But here’s what’s promised by Man v. Food‘s Chicago episode.

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The facts are in—spend all day at a desk and you’re pretty much doomed. Doomed! According to one study of 123,216 people, men who sat more than six hours per day were about 20% more likely to die during the course of the study than those who sat less than three hours per day. And women were 40% more likely to die!

So what am I, who routinely sits in front of my computer for more than a dozen hours a day, supposed to make of this, especially since I could apparently exercise all night without making up for the damage caused by sitting all day?

My pal (and current boss) Craig Engler’s solution was to get himself a standing desk at the office and a TreadDesk—that’s right, a treadmill desk, for walking while working—at home, and both of those tempted me. (You can check out pics of his set-up here.) But since I love my glass desk, I hesitated at replacing it with a standing desk, so my thoughts went more to that TreadDesk idea.

While discussing with Irene whether we should purchase one, I suddenly realized—Wait a minute! We already own a treadmill. It’s got arms. I’ve got a board in the garage which would fit perfectly across those arms. And since I do my work on a laptop, my work station is easily moveable to place atop that board whenever I’m in the mood. I could just put ’em together. Right?

Right.

Voila!

It’s not the prettiest solution, but if it gets me up from my desk during the mid-afternoon for an hour without interfering with work, that’s all that counts.

So what I’ve been doing each day since last Thursday is walking for an hour at 2 MPH, which is slow enough for me to not even notice I’m doing it and keep typing away, but fast enough to get the blood pumping. No, it’s not an extreme aerobic workout, but that’s not what this type of exercise is for. It so that those of us who spend 12-14 or more hours each day at our computers don’t die quite as quickly as we otherwise would.

So far, it’s working. Hey, I’m still alive, aren’t I?

When our fearless leader John Scalzi threatened to bring his ukulele to SFWA’s Nebula Awards weekend last month, I knew I had to do the same. (Bring, not threaten, that is.) And unindicted co-conspirator David Bartell, another science fictional uker, brought his along as well.

Saturday afternoon, in the lull between the end of programming and the beginning of the banquet, we found a quiet spot to jam. And luckily, Liza Groen Trombi happened by to snap this picture, which should appear in the next issue of Locus.

For those who don’t know what we all look like, those smiling faces belong to (from left to right), me, John, and Dave. (And don’t worry—I put on a tie, too, before the festivities began.)

I’m hoping that by the next incarnation of the science fiction merry-go-round, a few more of you secret SF ukulele players (you know who you are) will decide to join us.

A show of hands—which of you will be bringing your ukes along to the Chicago Worldcon?

As those of you who’ve been following my ukulele exploits know, not only did I fall in love with George Formby, but I actually went ahead and joined the George Formby Society, where it turned out I was only the 12th U.S. member.

Since we’re so spaced out across the country, we’ve yet to meet face-to-face, our only contact being via email, Facebook, and Skype. I’m sure we’ll meet someday. But you can meet them now, and by their wonderful playing see the long road I must travel before I’ll properly be able to play this four-string weapon which has captured my heart.

First up, Nashville’s Johnny Foodstamp, covering the George Formby classic, “Why Don’t Women Like Me?”

Next, Dan Breton from Springfield, Massachusetts, with a Formby signature song, “When I’m Cleaning Windows.” (more…)

During the Nebula Awards weekend a couple of weeks ago, I visited Artomatic, an arts festival featuring more than 1,000 artists, which this year is taking place in an office building soon to be demolished. I returned a couple of days ago, because I’d only made my way through 75% of the space during my first two visits, and based on what I’d seen, I felt I should experience it all. I’d enjoyed myself so much during those other visits I was sure I’d find some more gems.

I did.

Here are the images that touched me the most this time around.

Gregory Ferrand

I found this quartet of paintings exposing inner life—hopes, dreams, anxieties, and more—moving. (more…)

The 2012 Nebula Awards banquet was held Saturday, May 19, 2012, at the Hyatt Regency Crystal City. So why am I only getting around to sharing video of the event with you now?

Because the file you’ll see below was 4 gigabytes, and expected to take 15 hours to upload to YouTube with the puny Internet service I get here in the backwoods, meaning I’d only want to start it chugging along if I had plans to be away for the day and not expecting to have to do anything else online. And since yesterday was going to be an offline, wandering the world kind of day, I was finally able to get the video up.

Unfortunately, the battery of my Flip camera died after slightly more than an hour, right in the middle of Connie Willis accepting her Grand Master Award. I recorded the remaining half hour using my iPhone, but its microphone is so poor that those speaking on stage are barely audible. I may upload the rest someday, but believe me, unless I can tweak the audio, it’ll seem like pantomime.

But what you can see here is choice. Walter Jon Williams is entertaining as always, astronaut Mike Fincke is inspiring, and the tributes to Octavia Butler are moving, so I hope you still enjoy what’s there.

On another note—if you’re aware of a camcorder as convenient to slip in a pocket as a Flip that delivers equally as good picture and audio quality but with a longer lasting battery, let me know!