"You’ll Never See His Like Again!": Revisiting Comics Legend Stan Lee’s Best, Most Literary (and Vastly Underrated) Story, The Silver Surfer (1978)

Lee wrote so many masterpieces of comics literature, but this one is his best because it best speaks to the principle he and his characters lived by: Never succumb to nihilism and despair. Never forget that we are similar in our anxieties and weaknesses, and that our individual identities matter less than our collective aspiration to improve our world and the lives of the people who inhabit it.

Did I Just Witness a #MeToo Moment?

So, did I just witness a #MeToo moment? Was I the guy who pushed through her personal space? Did I assault her sensibilities? Did I make her feel uncomfortable?

Maybe. Probably. But I doubt she’ll make a big deal of it to her friends — assuming she has any. I think that young woman operates in a state of perpetual annoyance. The city and its people and its Starbucks electrical outlets are nothing more than inconveniences hellbent on ruining her day. It’s her world and the rest of us are mere pigeons shitting on her head.

Notes from the Post-it Wall | Week of November 11, 2018

This Thanksgiving, let’s remember that this year’s holiday falls on the 65th anniversary of the assassination of President John F. Kennedy. So let’s be thankful that most of us won’t experience having our spouse’s skull and brains splattered all over our designer outfit while riding in a convertible. I bet Jackie even got some brain matter in her mouth. Gross. Pumpkin pie is so much better, I’m sure.

The Tea Party Cage Match

I’d love nothing more than to have two Tea Parties in place because the fierceness of the fight would be electric but it all plays into the WWE Wrestling Reality TV government that favors the Trumps of DC rather than the calm, reflective and sober rationality of folks who can truly govern.

Pick Up At The Bar

The red door is near, faded and worn from the hands of so many patrons. From the quiet sidewalk, the din is growing. In the pretense of the holidays, the flock gathers at their flowing altar and pray long hours deep into their bottles. They cheer at sports, they laugh about each other’s lives. Farmers, factory workers, caregivers, teachers. The little town’s heartbeat throbs inside where the air is dark and the fragrance of stale cigarettes sits in the back of throats.