PeterDavid.net

…and they will…I’m thinking “The Lost Season” for the title.

Or maybe just “Choke.”

PAD

Obviously the Cowboy is particularly interested in this season since Supergirl is slated to show up. Spoilers below:

(more…)

Abbyshot replicas is this really cool outfit that makes replicas of movie costumes. I’m getting myself one of the coats I’m shown wearing above: It’s a replica of the coat that Harrison Ford wore as Deckard in “Blade Runner.” The cool thing about it is that it’s made of this astounding material that sheds water like nothing I’ve ever seen, so it’s an ideal raincoat (they also make a version made of more normal material for those who want to have that beaten up, rumpled “Blade Runner” look.) They also make Mal Reynolds coats, that yellow jacket Uma Thurman wore in “Kill Bill,” and other stuff. Check it out. Abbyshot

PAD

I’m hoping they don’t make it into the post-season.

This has gone beyond agonizing or embarrassing. This is just sad. Being swept by the NATIONALS? The lowest scoring team in the league and they’re averaging nine runs a game? What’s going to happen when they go up against teams that actually don’t suck?

If somehow within the next week they get their act together and actually capture the league championship rather than back into it because the Phillies lose, then maybe…MAYbe. But as it stands now, the Mets missing out on postseason play would be a mercy killing.

PAD

I’d love to stage my own version of Ahmadinejad’s speech at Columbia and have it be like a Seinfeld monologue. Just have him saying basically the actual things he said, but on a small comedy club stage, with the Sienfeld cadences, and the little music pops. “We don’t have homosexuals in Iran.” (roar of laughter) “Why are you laughing? That’s not funny! None of this is funny! Like…what’s all this talk about the Holocaust? It needs more research!” (even more laughter) “Stop laughing! This is serious!” (music pops)

Although, to be fair, his phrasing (well, the translator’s phrasing) was accurate: “In Iran, we don’t have homosexuals like in your country.” That is true. In our country, homosexuals can openly lobby for the right to marry without being…oh, what’s the phrase…executed by the government.

Y’know, say what you will about Hitler…at least his name was easy to spell and pronounce.

PAD

My parents are selling theirs, in Eastern Montgomery County, PA. Five bedroom ranch, in-ground swimming pool, deck, living room, dining room, kitchen, rec room, full basement…plus, hey, I lived there for a few years, so there’s bragging rights. Absolutely gorgeous property.

Anyone interested, please e-mail me at padguy@aol.com and I’ll forward it to the realtor.

PAD

I’m told that the convention had about 350 people in attendance and that the organizers are claiming that my failure to attend was entirely my own fault due to my refusal to commit and my constantly changing my mind. It supposedly had nothing to do with lack of communication and no one booking flights (the same problems that prevented Stuart Immonen and Tad Stones from attending). They did, however, insist that they were on good terms with me and that I’d be attending next year.

No. I won’t be. Fool me once and all that.

PAD

From me and the girls

We love you

Kath

Marvel is pleased to announce that the highly-anticipated She-Hulk #22, featuring new series writer Peter David and artist Shawn Moll, will also ship with an Ed McGuinness variant cover. She-Hulk #22 McGuinness Variant ships in October and more ordering details will be revealed to retailers in the upcoming Marvel Mailer on Tuesday. Featuring the beginning of a brand new arc entitled “Jaded,” perfect for readers new and old alike, She Hulk #22 puts the world’s most dangerous lawyer in the world’s most dangerous job…and you won’t believe where it leads! Peter David revolutionized the Hulk during his acclaimed run with the Jade Giant, so when it comes to She-Hulk, expect the “incredible!”

This fall, the She-Hulk will Smash like never before and it all begins with She-Hulk #22, featuring a standard cover by Mike Deodato, a variant by McGuinness… and a top secret Zombie variant by McGuinness!

The famed educational establishment is getting all sorts of heat since they’re inviting Iranian President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad to speak at their campus. Seems he had a hole in his schedule since he wasn’t going to be visiting Ground Zero. (No word yet on whether he’ll be permitted to go to Disneyland. And if you have to ask why I brought that up, you’re too young for me to explain it.)

Naturally the University is being hammered by people who want to see the invitation revoked, because they’re incensed that they’re being forced to come and listen to him express his viewpoints over…

Oh. Wait. That’s right. No one is forcing them to do so, any more than people who are repulsed by certain TV programs or radio shows have had the “off” buttons removed from their TVs and radios.

No, it seems that they are revolted by the very IDEA of the Iranian thug getting up on a stage at Columbia and denying the Holocaust ever existed.

Except…this is America. And at the core of what makes this country great is that, if we find an idea repulsive, we’re supposed to respond to it with more ideas, not the smothering of those ideas. He wants to claim the Holocaust didn’t happen? Fantastic. Have him do so, and then confront him with survivors of concentration camps, or soldiers who were there when the camps were liberated. Let him call each and every individual a liar to their face, if he can.

But who knows what the long-term result could be? There’s no such thing as an instant life-transforming epiphany. Even when it seems that’s what’s happened, odds are that the groundwork was laid for it over the course of years. Someone like the Iranian president (which is easier to type than his name) isn’t going to instantly realize he’s wrong, but perhaps the seeds of doubt can be planted, in him or in other deniers. It’s worth a shot. The dissemination of ideas is ALWAYS worth a shot.

In point of fact, he probably should have been allowed to lay a wreath at Ground Zero. And he should have been met there by an assemblage of family members of victims, standing there with photos of their loved ones staring accusingly, putting a human face on the terrorism that he purportedly supports.

Perhaps he won’t care. Chances are he won’t. But again, you never know. The man, for all his bluster, for all his vituperation, for all his wrongheadedness, clearly has a fascination with this country, almost as if he’s seeking our approval and has absolutely no comprehension how to go about it.

We speak wistfully of world peace. Of everyone getting along. But many people are reluctant to fully get behind the first step to such a goal, which is to understand the views of those in opposition to them. I’m not saying “agree with” or “condone.” I’m saying “understand.” Understanding why people believe what they believe, and–if you disagree with them–doing your damnedest to make them understand YOUR point of view. Understanding one’s enemy on human terms is the only real path to peace, which should be self-evident since thus far dehumanizing the enemy or trying to bomb him into oblivion hasn’t gotten the job done.

The song says, “Give peace a chance.” Won’t ever happen if speech is smothered.

PAD

So yesterday was Ariel’s sweet sixteen party. We came up with a rather nifty and memorable outing for her: We rented a luxury suite at the home stadium of the Long Island Ducks, the local baseball team that plays in the Atlantic League. Where else can you see former Mets on the field, Bud Harrelson coaching third base, and Pete Rose’s son swinging a bat? We had a good turnout, a combination of Ariel’s friends, our friends (including Bob Greenberger and son Robbie), a *very* nice job of catering (the normal hamburgers at Ducks stadium taste like hockey pucks, but the catered ones were great), and terrific overhead seats enabling us to gaze down loftily at the peons. (The only problem with a luxury suite is that it ruins baseball for about a year once you have to return to *being* one of the peons.)

All we needed to make the evening complete was for (a) a baseball to come flying our way or (b) the Ducks to win, thereby extending their season since this game was the second game of a best two out of three to continue into the Atlantic League version of the World Series…and they’d already lost the first time. Unfortunately no balls came near us and the Ducks lost 3 to 2, so the actual game results were a bust. But other than that, Mrs. Lincoln, the play was great, and Ariel grooved on seeing her name in lights up on the Ducks scoreboard wishing her a happy birthday.

PAD

Back in March of this year, I was contacted by the organizers of the Orlando Comic Book Convention and asked if I’d like to come. It was over the weekend of my birthday, and I said, “Look…I don’t want to ditch my family on my birthday. If you’d be willing to fly down me, my wife and my two kids, then I’m in.” Honestly, I wasn’t expecting them to agree to it, but I figured, what the hell, I’d give it a shot.

They agreed to it. Hurrah.

Then I realized a couple months later that it was on Yom Kippur weekend. And I said, “Guys, we have a problem. I didn’t realize there was this conflict.” They said, “What can we do to make this work for you?” I said, “You need to find me a reform synagogue that I can attend for at least part of Saturday.”

Never heard from them. My name was still on the website, but not a whisper.

I mentioned this to an Orlando-area retailer at Dragon*Con who said he was looking forward to my coming. He got right on the problem and, in less than a week, found a local Reform synagogue that was willing to extend guest passes to myself and Ariel.

Meantime, not a word from the organizers. I wrote to them and said, “Okay, look, what’s the deal? Am I still coming, because you haven’t gotten us any tickets yet.” They asked if I was still interested in coming. I said yes.

Didn’t hear from them again.

However I did get an e-mail today from a fan asking why my name was no longer on the list for the Orlando Comic Con, which is the first definitive word I’ve had that I’m not attending.

So if you’re at the convention and you hear people saying, “Where the hell is Peter David? Why didn’t he show up?” feel free to say that, hey, he was as surprised as you were.

PAD

Third part of the four part introduction of the Isolationist, and a single issue tale in which Jude finally comes to terms with his dilemma. Whad’ja think?

PAD

So I was discussing the Emmy results with Kathleen while Caroline contentedly played with her new plush unicorns she’d gotten at the Renfaire yesterday. And, commenting on the fact that Stephen Colbert got beaten for best performance in a variety show by Tony Bennett, I said, “Twice in a year he got beat out by a singer in a one-shot special. Son of a–” And then I caught myself in deference to our four year old’s presence.

And apparently thinking that I had simply suffered a memory lapse, Caroline piped up, “Bitch.”

I said, “Aw no.”

Given all the incentive she needed, Caroline cheerfully said, “Son of a bitch. Son of a bitch.”

Kathleen said, “Caroline, those are grown-up words. Don’t say that.”

“Don’t say that?” she said.

“No,” I reinforced. “Don’t say that.”

“Damn it,” she muttered and went back to her toys. “Dammit dammit dammit.”

Oh yeah. That Father of the Year award’s looking pretty shakey.

PAD

I channel surfed past a clip of Jeff Foxworthy at around the same time I was trying to think of what I’d do for my next “But I Digress.”

And I put the two together.

You know his whole “You might be a redneck..” thing? Like, “If your parents met at a family reunion, you might be a redneck.” Well, Skrulls have green necks, which is close. So here’s the challenge: In the spirit of Jeff Foxworthy, come up with those little hints that might make you come to the realization that you might well be a Skrull. If I get enough of them, I’ll make a column out of it.

PAD

UPDATE 9/14–I’M NOT SURE WHY THIS ENTRY DOUBLE POSTED, BUT SINCE WE’VE REPLIES TO BOTH, I’M NOT SURE THAT WE CAN CONSOLIDATE THEM. SO FOR SANITY’S SAKE, PLEASE POST YOUR RESPONSES TO THIS ONE AND IGNORE THE ONE BELOW. IF GLENN CAN WORK HIS MAGIC TO PUT THEM TOGETHER, I’M SURE HE WILL. (Further update: Glenn has locked the comments thread on the other one while he tries to figure out how to migrate them here. Glenn will aslo stop talking about himself in third person any minute now. –GH)

I channel surfed past a clip of Jeff Foxworthy at around the same time I was trying to think of what I’d do for my next “But I Digress.”

And I put the two together.

You know his whole “You might be a redneck..” thing? Like, “If your parents met at a family reunion, you might be a redneck.” Well, Skrulls have green necks, which is close. So here’s the challenge: In the spirit of Jeff Foxworthy, come up with those little hints that might make you come to the realization that you might well be a Skrull. If I get enough of them, I’ll make a column out of it.

PAD

May most of you be inscribed in the hardcover edition of the Book of Life, while for a handful, the trade paperback edition should suffice.

(I have no idea what that means, but it amuses me. Worst comes to worst, I can always atone for it next week.)

PAD

Anything I could say about recollections of the day, I’ve already said in previous years.

So this year I’m simply moved to ask…

…anyone feeling safer?

PAD

So we had a low key birthday for Kathleen today. I let her sleep as late as she wanted, and in the afternoon we went out to a local Renfair (we may go to the big one in Tuxedo, NY next Saturday; haven’t decided yet.)

Tonight after dinner and her birthday cake we’re going to throw one of her birthday presents into the DVD player–the “Saviour of the Universe” edition of one of her favorite kitschy films, “Flash Gordon.”

It’s little celebrations like this that just serve to remind me of how lucky I am to have her in my life.

PAD

I was sitting at my table in Artists Alley signing away, which is pretty much what I was doing whenever I wasn’t on a panel or heading to or from a panel. And someone brought me copies of “Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man” to autograph.

And there was Ringo’s signature on several of the covers.

I just stared at them. It took a long tme for me to be able to pick up my marker and write my name as well.

It was the first time that I’d ever found myself looking at the autograph of a co-worker on a series who’d passed away…certainly a co-worker who was younger than I.

I still have no earthly idea why it wasn’t the other way around. That it wasn’t the health-conscious Mike who was looking at my signature while I, who’d been carrying so much extra weight for so long, had succumbed to the heart attack I’d so blithely invited.

I know it’s one of those things where you’re just supposed to believe there’s a reason for all this. More and more, though, I’m moved to think that it’s just further proof that life is random, unpredictable, and unfair. Then again, as William Goldman wrote in “The Princess Bride,” No one ever said life is fair. It’s just fairer than death, that’s all.

PAD