Four Out Of Five Dentists Agree

I went to the dentist today for a checkup. Whew! I'm glad that's over with. Now I can stop flossing for another 6 months.

I kid, I kid. Unlike most of the rabble, I actually do floss somewhat regularly. Admittedly not every day, but I try to do it at least three or four times a week.

For those of you who eschew flossing for most of the year and only start doing it a couple of days before your dental appointment, you're not fooling anyone you know. When your dentist asks you if you've been flossing in an accusatory tone, and you always say, "Why yes. Yes I have! Several times a day in fact. Every spare moment I can find," he knows you're a base charlatan and a big fat liar.

How does he know you're lying? For one thing, he went to a special tooth school. That's right, an entire school devoted to naught but the study of teeth; how many you should probably have, where they come from, and how much should be charged for painfully yanking them out of your mouth. So he knows more about teeth than you ever will.

The other way he knows you're not telling the truth is when he tells you to rinse in the little sink. If it looks like this after you spit, he knows you're a filthy liar.

Walking Dead News: The Governor And The Return Of Merle!

I guess I should put a big ol' SPOILER tag here, in case you don't want to know any details about Season 3 of Walking Dead. You've been warned!

This week we got our first look at actor David Morrissey, who'll be starring as The Governor this fall. Stop me if you think that you've heard this one before, but it looks like November spawned a monster! Get it? Morrissey? Stop me? Spawned a monster? Hey, hey, take your coat off and get back here.

By the way, I don't know who that's supposed to be there in the background. The Governor's Filipino Pool Boy, perhaps?

I first covered the news that Morrissey was the Governor earlier this year, so I won't rehash old news. I wasn't quite convinced that Morrissey was the right man for the part, but he looks sufficiently badass here, so I'm willing to give him a chance (I'm sure he'll no doubt be greatly relieved to hear he has the support of my highly influential blog).

The comic book version of the Governor bore more than a passing resemblance to makeup artist/actor Tom Savini, who in fact lobbied long and hard for the role. As I'm not a fan of Mr. Savini, I'm not particularly torn up that he didn't get the part, or that the final character looks nothing like him. Based solely on other things I've seen David Morrissey in, I think they made a wise choice.

The Walking Dead producers keep insisting that they're not going to water down the Governor character for TV. Don't you believe a word they say, as they are big fat liars. There is absolutely no way that the TV show will be able to faithfully depict the comic book version of the Governor or the whole Woodbury story arc. It's just not possible. The Governor was a sadistic and depraved dictator who routinely resorted to torture and dismemberment to get what he wanted. That whole Woodbury comic book storyline was just brutal, and at times hard to get through. There's no way they can pull it off on TV, no matter what they say. Remember, early this year these same producers kept telling us that John Bernthal wasn't leaving the show, so right there they've proved they can't be trusted.

Also this week, actor Michael Rooker, better known as Merle Dixon, was spotted on the set. As you know, Merle has been a constant presence on the show despite the fact that he's only appeared about three times (and even then, one of those times was as his brother's feverish hallucination!). So is Merle back for good, or is he still a figment of Daryl's imagination? I'm guessing he's back for real, as one of the Governor's men. I have a bad feeling that when he does show up again, things aren't gonna go well for Rick. Remember, Rick's the one who handcuffed Merle to the roof of a zombie-packed building and left him there, causing him to saw his own hand off to escape. Things like that tend to make you hold a grudge.

I need a TARDIS so I can hurry up and see Season 3 NOW!

Who New?

Last week the BBC released the first official photo of the Doctor and his new companion Clara, played by Jenna Louise-Coleman.

Clara will be debuting sometime during the second half of the upcoming season, after the unfortunate departure of the Doctor's current companions the Ponds.

So far nothing at all is known about Clara, whether she's from the past, present or future, or if she's even human. For the record the Doctor has had companions who've been from the past before (Victoria and Jamie for example) and even a few aliens (Romana, Nyssa, Adric and Turlough come to mind).

Wherever or whenver she's from, it looks like the Doctor continues to like 'em young!

It also looks like the Doctor's rockin' an all new outfit. He's apparently turned in his "Geeky College Professor" look for more formal late 19th or early 20th century garb.

Hurry up and bring on Season 7!

R.I.P. Frank Cady, aka Sam Drucker

Every now and then I think to myself that I'm gonna stop writing celebrity obits on my blog; for one thing by the time I get around to it everyone from CNN.com all the way down to the Stammerville Weekly Shopper has already covered it, plus it's kind of morbid. But then someone whose life actually meant something to me dies, and I think, "OK, one more time."

This time it's actor Frank Cady. The name might not be familiar, but his face certainly will be if you watched any TV at all in the 1960s and 1970s. Cady died June 8, 2012 in his Wilsonville, Oregon home. He was 96. His daughter didn't mention a cause of death, but it couldn't be too awfully hard to figure out. The man was nearing 100.

My first reaction upon hearing the news of his death: Sadness or course, followed by open mouthed surprise. I honest to god didn't realize he was still alive.

Cady's most famous role was of course that of Sam Drucker, owner and proprietor of Drucker's General Store on Petticoat Junction and Green Acres. Sam Drucker was a regular on both series, and even made a few appearances on The Beverly Hillbillies.

All three series had a shared continuity and existed within the same world, one that I always called the "Hooterverse," named of course after the fictional town in which Petticoat Junction and Green Acres took place.

That makes Frank Cady one of the only actors I know who regularly played the same character in three different shows. The only other actor I can think of that comes close is Richard Anderson, who played Oscar Goldman simultaneously in The Six Million Dollar Man and The Bionic Woman.*

Cady guest starred on many other TV shows prior to his Hooterverse role, including The Andy Griffith Show and many, many Western TV series. He was also in several of my all time favorite movies, including The 7 Faces of Doctor Lao and When Worlds Collide. After seeing his earnest and over-enunciated performance as Sam Drucker my whole life, it was a bit jarring to see him in anything else, especially as a villain in When Worlds Collide.

* It's entirely possible that an actor has played the same character in several of the various Law and Order series, but I've never watched a single episode of any of those, so I can't say.

Top Ten Lists From The Antideluvian Period

I was going through a box of old papers last night and came upon something mildly interesting: three Late Show With David Letterman Top Ten Lists that I wrote way back in the early 1990s.

I've always been a big Letterman fan and much prefer him over Leno's smug, cackling persona.

Apparently I liked Letterman's show so much that I used to make up my own Top Ten lists. It's actually fairly easy once you figure out how to do it; there's a very definite rhythm and pattern to the lists. I didn't have an outlet to publish them back then, but thanks to Al Gore and the miracle of the interwebs, I do now.

So without further ado, here are my Top Ten Lists, circa 1994. Note that a lot of the references here are pretty dated. This was seventeen years or more ago after all. Don't judge me too harshly.

Top Ten Ways To Tell You Bought 
The Wrong Computer:

10. Buy A New Application, Get It Home, And All There Is In The Box Is A Big Wax Crayon For Drawing On The Screen.

9. Ejects Floppy Disks With Enough Force To Decapitate Co-Worker.

8. Error Noise Sounds Like Gilbert Godfried Imitating A Siren.

7. You Take The Back Off The Monitor And Inside There's A Bird WIth A Sharp Beak Carving Images On The Screen, Just Like On The Flintstones.

6. Salesman Giggles Like A Schoolgirl When He Says Phrases Like "Ram" And "Hard Drive."

5. Their Commercials Consist Of Spokesman Paul Reiser Saying, "I Got Your Floppy Disk Right Here."

4. Mouse Randomly Delivers A Lethal Electric Shock.

3. Built-In Geiger Counter So Loud You Can't Hear Yourself Think.

2. Speech Recognition Function Only Responds To Bea Arthur's Voice.

And The Number One Way To Tell You Bought The Wrong Computer:

It Says Microsoft On The Front.

See, I told you some of the references were pretty dated. Back when I wrote this computers were still using floppies, and Paul Reiser was a name people recognized. 

Also back then I was very much a Mac zombie. In the office where I worked we all used Macs but we had one lone Microsoft PC to use when clients absolutely refused to send in files any other way. This was in the pre-Windows 95 days, when you still had to type in C:/ just to get the computer's attention. It literally took two people to run the thing; one to do the typing and the other to read from the manual and shout instructions on what to do next. 

I absolutely loathed having to get anywhere near that machine. Fortunately shortly afterwards Windows 95 stole er, I mean duplicated the Mac interface so perfectly that the two systems are now virtually interchangeable. I still use a Mac at work but I draw and blog on a PC at home, and I honest to God don't notice a difference.

Top Ten Ways To Tell If Your Co-Worker 
Is A Star Trek Fan:

10. Tries To Use The Xerox Machine To "Clone" Himself.

9. Claims The Prime Directive Prohibits Him From Working Overtime.

8. Wears His Starfleet Uniform To Work And It Isn't Halloween.

7. Wears His Starfleet Uniform To Work And It IS Halloween.

6. Makes "Swooshing" Door Noise Whenever He Enters Room.

5. Giggles Uncontrollably When He Hears The Phrase "Captain's Log."

4. Tries To Use The Vulcan Neck Pinch On Cafeteria Lady When She Overcharges Him.

3. Goes On Vacation For A Month, Comes Back With Pointed Ears.

2. Hasn't Had A Date Since Stardate 4401.8

And The Number One Way To Tell If Your Co-Worker Is A Star Trek Fan:

Two Words: Spock Bangs.

Well now, that one held up much better than the first one, reference wise. It could have been written today.

#5 is admittedly a little silly; not only is it juvenile, but how often would the phrase "Captain's Log" ever come up in normal day to day conversation?

The Starfleet uniform reference is a personal one; I actually own a replica Next Generation-era Starfleet uniform. And I wore it to work once when the whole office decided to dress up for Halloween. I remember standing in line at lunchtime and the cafeteria lady said, "Well look at you, Star Track man." Somewhat sheepishly I said, "Yeah, well it's Halloween." She looked thoughtful for a second and said, "Hey now, it IS Halloween, ain't it?" Seriously? She thought I just decided to wear my Star Trek suit to the office on a normal work day? Did she think it must have been laundry day and all my other clothes were in the hamper?

Top Ten Least Popular Cartoon Shows:

10. Beanie And Siskell.

9. Batman And Ito.

8. The New Adventures Of Ed Asner's Back Hair.

7. Duck Entrails.

6. The Rush Limbaugh Show.

5. Scoob Doggy Doo.

4. Pinky And The Spleen.

3. Power Rabbis.

2. X-Men Vs. Richard Simmons In Sweatin' Land.

And The Number One Least Popular Cartoon Show:

Where's Kato?

Hmm, this last one hasn't aged well at all. You can tell that the O.J. trial was in full swing here, based on the Judge Ito and Kato Kaelin references. Ask your parents about it, kids.

I remember back around this time I went to the local mall to pick up something and noticed that the joint seemed unusually packed for a Thursday afternoon. Apparently O.J. trial witness Kato Kaelin, who was desperately milking his fifteen minutes of fame at the time by billing himself as "The World's Most Famous House Guest," was making a personal appearance at the mall that day. I inadvertently found myself in the middle of a literal mob scene as people were flocking like lemmings to get even a fleeting glimpse of his floppy bleach-blond locks.

What made it even more puzzling to me was that the man had no appreciable talent nor did he try to come up with even a half-hearted act; he just stood there like a prize cow at the 4H fair as the curious throngs jostled to get a good look at a D-level celebrity. He was also selling t-shirts emblazoned with his "World's Most Famous House Guest" tag line. They were quite stylish affairs consisting of the cheapest quality plain white t-shirt available, with plain black Helvetica lettering ironed onto the front. They looked like cans of generic corn in shirt form. I absolutely did not get it; why anyone would travel two feet to see him, much less all the way across town. I got the hell out of there as soon as I could muscle my way through the crowd of mouth-breathers.

I would totally watch a show called Power Rabbis. Especially the part at the end where they all joined together together to become the MegaRabbi.

Maybe now that I have a blog I ought to try and come up with some new Top Ten Lists. Hopefully fellow Hoosier David Letterman won't sue.

R.I.P. Ray Bradbury

Like most of the world I was saddened to hear of the death of author Ray Bradbury earlier this week. He was 91 though, so that's a pretty good run. It's sad, but realistically you can't ask for much more than that!

I discovered the works of Mr. Bradbury through my local library when I was a kid, as did most people. He had a big influence on my back then, and I'm sure a few tiny molecules of his style have seeped into my brain and are being filtered into my writing to this day. Not that I'm anywhere close to his level, mind you. Just saying he was a big influence on an entire generation is all.

As a sci-fi fan I much preferred stories such as The Martian Chronicles and A Sound of Thunder over his more folksy works such as Dandelion Wine. I was a dumb kid back then though, so I ought to go back and read the rest of his work; no doubt I'd get more out of it now anyway.

I never met Mr. Bradbury, but I did attend a lecture he gave here in town back in 1997. He was quite a spellbinding speaker and rambled from topic to topic for a much too short two hours. 

My favorite anecdote that he told that night: His agent called him one day and asked him if he'd be interested in writing the screenplay for John Huston's movie adaptation of Moby Dick. Mr. Bradbury said sure and the agent said he'd arrange everything. A few minutes later his wife heard him rummaging around in his study and came in to see what he was doing. He said he was looking for a copy of Moby Dick that he was sure he owned, because he'd never actually read the book and figured he'd better get started!

Bradbury said it was a tough row to hoe and took him eight months to write the screenplay. As someone who's unsuccessfully tried to slog through that book at least twice, I can relate!

In his later years Mr. Bradbury was quite vehement in his disdain for the internet, saying that he believed it to be the cause of just about all our social ills, and he absolutely refused to let any of his works be reproduced online or made available on eReaders. I wonder now if his works will finally be made available for download, or if he left instructions to the contrary with his estate?

Whatever the outcome, the world has lost yet another talent. Sadly, I don't see anyone else stepping up to take his place.

This Seems Like More "Snow White" Movies Than Is Necessary For One Year

If Bob Hope and Jerry Seinfeld were somehow able to spawn a child, it would no doubt be some sort of freakish Franken-comedian and would take a look at the cineplex and video stores and utter, "Say, get a load of all these crazy Snow White movies. Isn't that wild?  Whaaaat's the deal?"

Don't believe the Franken-comedian? Well, right now (June 2012) there's a movie in theaters called Snow White & The Huntsman. It's a stylish retelling of the Snow White story (as you no doubt guessed, sharp as you are) but with more emphasis on the character of the Huntsman, who decides not to cut out Ms. White's heart but instead help her overthrow the Wicked Queen.

Back in March 2012 Mirror Mirror was released to theaters. It's a stylish retelling of the Snow White story, with emphasis on the Wicked Queen.

In stores right now is a direct to DVD (I think) movie called Snow White: A Deadly Summer. The cover is very misleading as the film has little or nothing to do with the Snow White legend. It's more of a contemporary slasher film concerning a girl named Snow whose Evil Stepmother sends her to Discipline Camp, whatever that is.

Technically it probably shouldn't be on the list, but it's got Snow White in the title and people are going to pick it up thinking it's got something to do with the fairly tale. Also if I don't include it, my wacky comedy premise gets shot to hell.

It stars Maureen McCormick (TVs Marsha Brady!) and Eric Roberts, so you know you're in for some fine acting.

Then there's Grimm's Snow White, a budget conscious but stylish retelling of the Snow White story, with elves inexplicably substituted for the dwarves.

This is an Asylum movie, so it was no doubt released the same day as Mirror Mirror, in an effort to confound and confuse the easily befuddled video-watching public and make them think they were renting the movie that was still in theaters. This has been Asylum's business model for the past 15 years.

These four movies have all hit the theater video store just in the first half of the year. I fully expect to see another five to six versions of Snow White by year's end.

May Journal Doodles

I have this journal (it's not a diary!) that contains calendar pages at the beginning of every month. I make my own calendars at home and have no need for the one in the journal, so I fill up each day's box with a doodle.

Nothing much to say about this month's doodles, other than sometimes it's hard to come up with 30-31 new ones each month. Sometimes I'll start drawing one and think, "This seems familiar somehow." I'll leaf through the earlier months and sure enough, I've already drawn a guy with a Tie Fighter head. Not really, but you get the idea.

Things I Just Don't Get...

You know, I try to keep up with all the things the kids today like, such as pogs, Alf and the Rubik's Cube. But hip as I am, even I can't keep up with all the new trends. Sometimes I just don't understand what's going on.

Some Things I Just Don't Get (Houston, we have a title!).

For example, this. I just don't get this, at all. Not the slightest bit.

Oh, I understand it, mind you. I get that it's a tattoo and you hold it up to your face and it faintly looks like you sort of have a mustache, from a distance. I get the what. I don't get the why.

Is it a joke? Is it supposed to be funny? Should I be "laughing out loud" right now, as all the kids say? If I were to walk through a college campus in Anytown, USA, would I see scores of "with it" students walking around with their fingers under their noses, showing off their hilarious mustache tattoos?

Is it one of those things that everyone is in on but me? Is it like back in high school, when all the popular kids would take a random word, like "doorknob," and try and convince me that it was a cool new term of approval, as in, "Yeah, that party was so doorknob!" And then they'd get me believing them so that I'd walk up to someone and say, "Hey, did you watch Laverne & Shirley last night? It was doorknob!" And then they'd all bray like donkeys at my faux pas. Is that what this is?

That's it, isn't it? The entire internet is in on this stupid meme, and you're all out there just holding your breath hoping that I drive over to the bad part of town and hand my keys to some thug to save him the trouble of stealing my car, go into the tattoo parlor and get one of these things permanently inscribed into my finger. Then I'll be so anxious to show off my hilarious new body art that I'll walk around all day with my mustachioed finger under my nose, and that's when you'll all start roaring with laughter.

Dream on, suckers! I figured it out! Now excuse me while I go into the kitchen and eat a spoonful of cinnamon.

Gay Lantern

Last week DC Comics was crowing loudly about the fact that during one of their semi-annual company wide reboots of their entire comic universe, they were going to reveal that a MAJOR character was gay.

Fans began speculating wildly. Who would it be? Batman? Robin? Wonder Woman? She lives on an island full of women after all. What about Batman? The Flash maybe? How about Batman? Maybe Batman?

Or possibly The Gay Ghost? Nah, that would statistically improbable. Could it perhaps be Batman?

Once the DC brass determined they'd squeezed all the free publicity out of the situation that they could, they announced that the winner of the 2012 Forced Orientation Adjustment was none other than... Alan Scott, the Golden Age Green Lantern.

chirp... chirp... chirp... chirp... chirp...

Yep, good ol' Alan Scott, the most important Green Lantern there is, right after Hal Jordan, Kyle Rainer, John Stewart, Guy Gardner and the one who looks like a chicken with a fin on his head. You know, Alan Scott, the incredibly MAJOR character who's not really part of the main DC Universe, but is tucked away on a parallel world called Earth 2, where all the other Golden Age superheroes live. THAT Green Lantern!

Way to be provocative, DC Comics! What bold, courageous, social-conscious thinking!

I guarantee that the general public has absolutely no idea that there's more than one Green Lantern, or that there's one living on a parallel world. When they hear, "Green Lantern's gay!" they're going to do a spit take and exclaim, "Holy crap! Did you say Ryan Reynolds is gay?"

For the record, I'm not a fan of this development. Now now, put down your torches and pitchforks, and take the tar off the stove. It's not that I object to the idea of a gay superhero per se. I don't. My problem with the whole business is that I don't want to know about the sex lives of ANY of the superheroes I read about, gay or straight.

Superman and Lois Lane had an "understanding." That's all I needed to know about their relationship. Mr. Fantastic and Invisible Woman are husband and wife. Enough said. The Alan Scott Green Lantern is now a "confirmed bachelor." I don't need to know any more than that.

Comic books are escapist fantasy. They should be epic and larger than life. I want to read about a guy dressed as a clown hanging a guy dressed as a bat over a vat of boiling acid. I want to read about whole teams of superheroes repelling alien invasions. I want to read about superheroes defeating a giant purple guy who wants to eat the Earth, or shrinking themselves and having adventures on a planet inside an atom. You know, the way comics used to be. I know, I know, get off my lawn.

I want stupid, goofy FUN comic stories. The more ridiculous and outlandish, the better. I think that can be accomplished without knowing which team the fifth most important Green Lantern is on.

Close, But No Cigar

Last year I posted a story about an internet petiton to convince the Olympic Committee to let former Doctor Who star David Tennant light the 2012 Olympic Flame.

See, back in 2006 there was an episode of Doctor Who in which the Doctor and Rose skipped ahead a few years to 2012. The episode frankly wasn't very good, but it was notable for one thing: at the end, the Doctor picks up the Torch and lights the Olympic Flame in full view of the world at large.

As 2012 came closer, fans of the show realized that it would be pretty darn cool if David Tennant actually lit the torch for real, making a small part of the TV series come true. Hey, it's either that or convince DARPA to build a working TARDIS.

I'm happy to report the petition worked. Sort of.

This past Saturday, current Doctor Matt Smith carried the Torch through Cardiff, Wales, which just happens to be where the series is filmed.

So the Doctor lit the Flame after all! Except it wasn't the right Doctor. And he didn't actually light anything, he just carried the Torch. And it was in the wrong venue. In the wrong city. On the wrong date. At the wrong time of day. But hey, other than that, it was exactly like it happened in the episode!

Schmoikel Saturnburg

What's that device that Schmoikel has in his hands? Is it some sort of multi-dimensional sensing device? A detonator for an antimatter bomb? Or maybe it's just his cell phone.

By the way, in the unlikely event I ever have a son, I am so naming him "Schmoikel." I can't think of a cooler name.

Schmoikel was drawn in Photoshop on the graphic tablet.

Here's the original sketch of Schmoikel.

I'm A Grown Man And I Bought This: Doctor Who The Astronaut and Silents Figures

I first started buying Doctor Who action figures around 2007. The original plan was to buy the Tenth Doctor and Rose and maybe a Dalek and that's it. You can probably guess how that turned out, five years and several hundred figures later. Sorry wallet. Sucks to be you!

These are my newest Doctor Who acquisitions: The Astronaut and the Silents (or if your prefer, the Silence) from the season 6 episode The Impossible Astronaut.

These three figures are actually rereleases as they were all previously produced last year. I bought the original versions, but decided to pull the trigger and buy these as well. Normally I don't care for rereleased/repaint figures; it's a cheap ploy by the toy company to get some more mileage out of their molds and squeeze a little more cash from their customers. But in this case the redo figures were different enough that I didn't mind acting like Waylon Smithers squealing over Malibu Stacy's new hat and buying them again.

First up is the Astronaut. It's a standard NASA spacesuited figure, circa 1969. In the episode the Doctor and his crew are picnicking along the shore of Lake Silencio (I see what you did there, Doctor Who writers) in Utah. Suddenly a mysterious Astronaut rises from the lake and after revealing its identity to the Doctor, kills him in front of his friends. Don't worry, he got better.

The figure's a good hefty hunk of plastic and stands up fairly well despite the heavy pack on its back (if you're a regular reader of my blog, as millions are, you'll know that action figures that can't stand under their own power is a big pet peeve of mine). 

The detail on the suit is a little soft and could have been a bit sharper. There are a couple of mission patches on each side of the chest that are nothing more than blank circles. Would it have killed them to print a tiny authentic image on the patches, say of an eagle landing on the moon? Apparently so. The patches are multi-colored so it's obviously technically possible.

The Astronaut comes with zero accessories. Again, would it have killed them to include a green lightning bolt to attach to its hand? I guess I could always borrow one from one of the Silents (which I will get to in a moment, keep yer pants on) but still.

Aside from those minor complaints, it's a nice looking figure.

It's also surprisingly articulated for such a seemingly clunky figure, as you can see here where it's trying to recreate Burt Reynolds infamous 1970s nude photo. In fact it's far more articulated than some of the previous figures of the Doctor!

WARNING! SPOILER AHEAD!

Try not to look at the next three photos if you haven't seen the episode! You've been warned!

 

The Astronaut features a flip up visor, which reveals the identity of the assassin inside, who is none other than Professor River Song, everyone's favorite time traveling archeologist, former hit (wo)man and future wife of the Doctor. It's a long story that would take way too much typing to explain, so just go with it and don't ask questions.

It's a pretty good likeness of actress Alex Kingston, which stands to reason since they've sculpted her at least three times before. To my rapidly fading eyesight the face looks identical to the River Song figure that came with the Pandorica chair, but the hair looks completely new. 

As I said earlier this is actually the second Astronaut figure they've released. As near as I can tell the two figures are identical. Well, almost.

The first Astronaut figure featured the face of young River Song beneath the helmet. Now you see why I went ahead and bought both figures; so I'd have the two versions of the character as seen on the show.

Don't ask me how a little girl can fit inside an adult sized suit and still be able to walk around in it. The episode had some technobabble excuse, but again it would take too much typing effort to explain. When you're watching Doctor Who it's often best to just go along with things.

Next up are the Silents figures. The Silence (which is the plural form of the name) are aliens who have been secretly infiltrating Earth for centuries. They have the perfect defense mechanism: you're only aware of them while you're looking directly at them. Once you turn away you instantly forget they ever existed. That means one could be standing in the room with you right now and you'd never know it as long as you weren't looking at it.

The design of the Silence is very obviously based on Edvard Munch's The Scream, which I guess would qualify as ironic (I hope you're taking notes, Alanis Morissette). Their natty suits are also supposed to evoke images of the men in black from UFO lore.

As you can see above, there are two different Silent figures; one without a mouth and one with. Normally the Silents appear to not have a mouth at all, but when they attack a gaping maw appears in their face as they suck the life force from your body.

The figures are sculpted well and appear to be identical except for the heads. The suits aren't smooth, they feature an odd rough texture that indicates they're probably not supposed to be made of Earthly seersucker cloth. Both Silents are taller than normal figures, to reflect their towering stature in the episode. Both figures are reasonably well articulated too.

Both versions of the Silence come with two accessories each; blue translucent energy bolts that can be slipped over their fingers. They actually stay on the hands fairly well. Why they couldn't have included one of these bolts with the Astronaut figure, I have no idea. I would just go ahead and use one of the bolts with my Astronaut, but I don't think it would fit over its clunky glove.

Here's the same shot with a little Photoshop glow added/*

*Caution! Energy bolts do not actually glow. When I was a kid the boxes my toys came in always said stuff like that, and I always wanted to say it. So now I said it. Move along.

Like the Astronaut, this is actually the second time they've made the Silence figures. The first versions are the flesh colored ones on the right. Their skin tone is closer to that in the actual episode. The first versions didn't come with the energy bolt accessories, so that's why I went ahead and bought the new versions. There were dozens of them in the episode, so you can't have too many Silents! I'm not sure why the new versions have grey skin. Maybe to tie in with grey aliens? Or maybe the factory just ran out of flesh colored paint.

Remote Possibility

Last week Eugene Polley, inventor of the TV remote control, died at age 96. Millions of immobile Americans mourn his loss. His simple invention changed the way we watch TV forever.

I grew up in the era when families had only one TV (an American-made Zenith, natch) and no one had a remote. They existed of course, but they were considered luxuries back then, something only those showoffs in the fancy part of town owned.

Actually our household did have a remote control— me. Most days my Dad would lie on the couch and make me crouch in front of the TV and turn the channel dial (no pushbutton controls back then!) repeatedly until he found something he wanted to watch. We only had a total of three stations to choose from in those days; four if the atmospheric conditions were right and we could pick up Channel 4 in Indianapolis, some 70 miles away. I would stand there for hours cycling through the three channels over and over until I finally landed on something Dad deemed acceptable to watch. Why he thought there would be something different on Channel 10 eight seconds later than the last time he saw it, I have no idea.

Eventually the constant search for quality programming took its toll on our trusty set and the channel dial broke, twisting off in my hand. Resourceful chap that he is, Dad got a pair of pliers out of his tool box and simply used them to turn what remained of the dial. These pliers were retired from general duty and became the "TV pliers," forever kept on top of the set for easy access.

In addition to my channel changing duties, I was also responsible for volume control, picture quality and vertical hold.

My grandmother had a much more elegant solution for her remotelessness at her house. She'd simply plop down in her easy chair and watch Channel 10 non-stop for months without ever once touching the dial. Then when she started noticing reruns cropping up, she'd finally hoist herself from her chair, walk slowly over to the set and change the dial to Channel 2. She'd then proceed to watch it non-stop for the second half of the year. Lather, rinse, repeat.

We didn't have cable TV back then either, as it wasn't offered in our rural area. Once again it did exist, but only in very limited areas. It was most definitely a luxury item, like chauffeurs and polo lessons. It was quite a different animal anyway back in those days, consisting mostly of local and public access programming rather than the endless barrage of mindless pablum it is today. 

No, back in the day we relied on over the air broadcasts, picked up by our trusty rooftop TV antenna. If you've never grown up in a house with an antenna, they were usually motorized and had a clunky control box that sat atop your TV. If your reception was less than optimal you turned the antenna until the picture came in sharp and clear. I wasn't just the channel changer, I also acted as Dad's antenna tuner. I spent many hours turning the antenna while he carefully scrutinized the screen, ready to tell me to stop the instant the picture came in at its best. He'd say, "Keep going, keep going... keeeeeep going... OK STOP!! STOP!! OK, you went too far! Go back... back... THERE! STOP!!!

You would think that once the antenna was pointed in just the right direction that you wouldn't ever have to mess with it again. You would be wrong. Just because the picture looked best when the antenna was pointed at 128º on Tuesday didn't necessarily mean it would look good again on Wednesday, forcing you to turn it to find the sweet spot yet again. But just because you finally got the station tuned in properly, you were't finished! Once the reception on Channel 10 was at its best, Channel 2 would then be a snowy mess, prompting you to have to adjust the antenna for it as well. Yes, it was a golden age.

We had the same black and white Zenith set for many years until we finally got our first color set sometime in the early 1970s. Back then the technology was still in its infancy and there was apparently great difficulty in displaying realistic skin tones. Everyone we knew was constantly adjusting the color and hue knobs on their sets in the quest for the perfect setting. It was a big topic of conversation as well. People would tisk and cluck, "Did you see the faces on the Johnston's TV set? Everyone was green! How can they watch TV like that?" None of that for us though! In our household everyone on TV had glowing ruddy orange complexions, the kind you'd imagine inhabitants of the planet Mercury would have. The oranger the better!

Vertical hold was also apparently a big problem back then, a problem which doesn't seem to affect modern sets. Back then the image on your TV would suddenly and without warning start scrolling vertically up or down, forcing you to run over to the set and start twisting the vertical hold knob to stabilize it. Why this happened so often, I have no idea. We had some neighbors whose TV set was permanently locked into vertical scroll mode, the picture constantly crawling up the screen. Occasionally the scrolling would stop and you'd see the actors' heads on the bottom half of the screen while their feet hovered at the top. Apparently this had been going on for so long in their household that they no longer noticed it, until they saw our heads nodding up and down in an effort to keep up with the picture.

There were no onscreen channel listings back in those days, so if we wanted to know what was on we had to consult the TV Guide magazine. In our household the TV Guide was held with the same regard and reverence that the Bible is in more religious homes. Especially by my Dad. Every week Mom would bring home the groceries and the first thing Dad would do was root through the bags for the TV Guide so that he could start planning the next week's viewing.

The Guide was kept in the magazine rack by Dad's easy chair. The rack was sort of a holy reliquary for the Guide, and God forbid it should ever be moved from it. Occasionally the Guide would go missing, which would cause much gnashing of teeth and rending of garments by Dad. All other activity would then come to a halt and the entire household would be turned upside down until it was found again. Homework could wait, the TV Guide was missing!

Eventually the TV Guide went missing once too often, and Dad actually started tying it to the magazine rack each week, so that it would always be within reach at a second's notice. That's the kind of story that usually makes your therapist's eyes light up when you confess it, as he begins fantasizing about a larger cabin cruiser.

There were no DVRs back in those dark times either. "Appointment Television" was a very real thing and just business as usual. If you wanted to watch a show, you had to be home sitting in front of your set in order to see it. None of this "watch it later when it's convenient for you" jazz like they have nowadays. Many's the time we'd be downtown at Zayres or Topps (two very extinct examples of Departmentus Retailerus) and I'd be perusing the toy aisle, when my parents would suddenly appear, grab me by the arm and frantically yelp, "C'mon, get in the car! It's 7:50 and Rat Patrol starts at 8!" Dad would then take us on a French Connection-like thrill ride through town, going around corners on two wheels in a desperate attempt to make it home before the opening credits started.

Don't chuckle too loudly at the primitive technology we had back in the day though. The day will come when viewers, floating serenely in their sterile Enviro-Chambers, are hooked up directly to their 3D Holosets and will change the channel with but a mere thought or blink of the eye, and they'll smile patronizingly at the memory of us with our 70 inch 1080p liquid crystal display sets.