Assorted follow-ups

Originally published November 11, 1994, in Comics Buyer’s Guide #1095

Assorted stuff:

* * *

When I wrote my first column about Image several years ago, Image personnel angrily said I was ignorant while Marvel personnel (don’t ask me who) congratulated me on a great column.

Recently, I wrote a column about the upcoming mutant crossover, which I dubbed “Xerox Hour.” As a consequence, Marvel personnel angrily said I was ignorant while Image personnel (don’t ask me who) congratulated me on a great column.

There’s a lesson buried somewhere in there, although I’ll be dámņëd if I can figure out what it is.

Specifically, at least one writer stated that I was unqualified to speculate about possible story directions since I had not called him up and asked him what they were. That the term “Xerox Hour” was “trite.” That people should not say something will be lousy until they’ve given it a chance. Plus various other potshots I won’t go into.

Now since “trite” means “overused, unoriginal,” I’m not sure how one can simultaneously coin a phrase and have it be overused. And it would appear the term “comic speculator” has fallen into such disrepute, that even the practice of speculating on upcoming story elements is frowned upon.

I mean, I thought the whole idea was to get people talking—not lash out when they do.

Absolutely, people shouldn’t say something will be lousy until they read it. Since I made no comments whatsoever on the quality of “Xerox Hour,” my conscience is clear on this matter.

The one place where the criticism is quite correct is that I did not, indeed, call the Marvel writer.

That’s because the press release specifically said, “For further information, call Gary Guzzo.” Which I did. And Marvel’s steadfast PR rep informed me that the press release contained all the available information. That the mutant office had clamped down on details, not wanting to have story elements leak prematurely as had happened with the spider-clone stuff. The press release was all Marvel desired to release officially.

At that point I strongly considered calling my friends who still wrote the comics and pumping them for information. Hey, I like a scoop as much as the next guy. But this is not The Washington Post. I felt no need to play hardball, and I was loath to put my friends in a difficult position—to take advantage of the relationship.

For, if I drummed information out of them (as I suspected I could) and printed it, I was concerned they’d get in dutch with the X-office. After all, the source of a leak to me could be traced easily and very quickly. If I had no information, that would be one thing. But here was the official press release, the official position.

So I went with it—a good decision, I felt, considering that only a minuscule portion of the column dealt with story elements anyway.

And one of my friends took me to task.

I sent back a reply on an AOL bulletin board explaining why I hadn’t endeavored to compromise my friend’s position on the X-book for the sake of a column.

He responded, also on the bulletin board, by referring to the information clampdown as “alleged” (as if I’d made it up) and saying that I should have called him anyway—that he could have handled pressure and repercussions from the X-office, if he’d chosen to spill detailed story elements.

Well—perhaps he’s got a point.

The good news is—it’s not too late.

If he’d called me and kept his ire private, I’d be keeping this just between us. But since he went public on the board, then I’ll keep it public.

I publicly invite him—or anyone else connected with the X-office—to write to BID and give blow-by-blow details of “Xerox Hour.” How are you guys getting around Marvel’s longstanding story policy that changes in history don’t affect the present, but simply create alternate timelines? Is it all a big “What If?” What will be the long-term ramifications, if any? Will the status return to quo, or will Marvel continuity remain shaken up at the end—in which case, what impact will it have on the rest of the Marvel Universe?

Answers—however vague—to the above will go a long way towards guiding retailers as to how they should place orders on what is now very much a pig in a poke. It may even get fans stirred up and interested, cutting through the “Oh, it’s just another Marvel gimmick, ho-hum” ennui that has enveloped many people.

If there is no information clampdown, this should not be unreasonable. Or if an X-writer is brave enough to face down possible repercussions, then answering any of the above presents no problem at all.

The offer is open. Step right up. Let’s see some… X-communication.

* * *

Boy, can I pick ’em. I watch Frasier instead of Home Improvement. And Chicago Hope I found immediately involving, while I thought E.R. was unwatchable.

Maybe it’s me. Or maybe the Next Big Scandal that’s going to break is that the Nielsen Ratings are, or have been, rigged.

* * *

Just to clarify my comments about movie ratings: I never said that parents shouldn’t monitor what their children are exposed to. Of course they should. I just don’t think movie ratings are required in order to do this.

A responsible parent can easily check out the details of a movie he or she is contemplating letting the kids see. Story details, and possible objectionable elements, are always being written up in parents’ magazines and such publications as Entertainment Weekly.

What I’m saying is that there are other ways to give parents information they need without a ratings system—a system that can be manipulated or used as a club to force directors into clipping two frames here, three frames there.

It can go the other way, as well. According to Variety, the least successful ratings—in terms of ticket sales—are G (except for Disney) and NC-17. Parents who want films they can attend with any member of their family are at the mercy of a ratings which encourages film makers to put something, anything in so that a G rating can be dodged. One example: Carol Burnett’s “Miss Hannigan” in Annie said “God dámņ” a couple of times, solely so the film wouldn’t be rated G. (It got its PG, not that it helped.) So anyone offended by that phrase can thank the ratings system.

Stating that we should be grateful for the ratings system because the Korean government edited the nudity from Schindler’s List is, at best, a specious argument. There is no First Amendment in Korea. There isn’t the adherence to a concept that free expression is sacred.

Here we’re in a country that, on the one hand, embraces freedoms—and, on the other, is constantly seeking palatable ways to curtail those same freedoms.

Ratings of any kind do not “allow” anyone to do anything except be censorious.

Meantime, while we debate ratings, the town of Raritan, N.J., has just passed a law making it a crime to use any sort of objectionable language, even in one’s own home. Do you think that’s ludicrous? Well, I think ratings are ludicrous. Censorship is ludicrous.

We, as a country, are ludicrous.

We’re supposed to be a free society. Let’s start acting like one.

G*d d*mn it.

* * *

“By popular demand, the rumors are true,” Tom DeFalco, the former editor-in-chief of Marvel Comics told me on the day of his departure.

Leaves a lot of questions—particularly since DeFalco is not being replaced; the editor-in-chief position being essentially abolished.

This means either that Terry Stewart is the Marvel equivalent of Paul Levitz, with active power over both business and editorial matters. Or else, if Stewart does not exercise editorial interests, it means that editorial decisions are executed through a group of editors, each in charge of a different line, with no day-to-day central authority. (Which was, basically, how Image was set up. Now there’s an interesting turn of events.)

So why did this happen?

There are a lot of theories floating around. Lots of opinions.

* That Marvel needed a shake-up.

* That sales were slipping and a head was needed to roll.

* That it was a simple restructuring.

* That DeFalco could have stayed if he desired to, but chose not to.

Depends whom you talk to, I suppose. Depends whom you choose to believe.

Me, I choose to believe what one person said upon hearing the news of DeFalco’s ouster, to wit:

“I guess it was his turn.”

I guess it was, at that.

(Peter David, writer of stuff, forgot to mention one thing for the Christmas list: An official baseball reading “1994 World Series.” I hear Spalding has about 5000 of ’em. Now that’s a keeper. I want one of those.)