Originally published October 11, 1996, in Comics Buyer’s Guide #1195
I think I finally understand Rob Liefeld. Which is cold comfort I suppose, considering the last couple of weeks he’s been having, but there it is.
Several things crystallized this newly-found comprehension for me.
Originally published October 4, 1996, in Comics Buyer’s Guide #1194
So there was Tom DeFalco, on his way back from a convention, passing through the security check at the airport and thinking—no doubt—about a nice, peaceful trip home.
But the security personnel stopped, did a double take as the x-ray of his bag passed through, looked at Tom, looked back at the bag. With a forced smile, one of them said, “Sir, do you have anything in your bag that resembles a gun?”
DeFalco, quick on the uptake, promptly responded, “Wha—?”
They promptly escorted Tom to one side, retrieved his suitcase, and emptied out the entire contents. And there, nestled in with the rather innocuous things in the bag, was a piece of cardboard cut into the shape of a gun—with aluminum foil wrapped around it.
And while a flustered DeFalco was grilled, a wide-eyed, innocent-faced Mark Gruenwald stood off to one side, looking shocked and appalled over the incident.
Originally published September 27, 1996, in Comics Buyer’s Guide #1193
I’ll tell you, I’m sick of people complaining about the level of writing in comics. Stop complaining, folks: Instead, go out and do something about it. Blow off some steam. How? By writing some yourself.
Originally published September 20, 1996, in Comics Buyer’s Guide #1192
There are those inside, and outside, of the industry, who view every superhero story as some sort of passionless, bloodless corporate creation. The conventional wisdom spouted is that those who involve themselves in such endeavors are mindless hacks: Heartless, soulless automotons who don’t care about anything except satisfying the monetary cravings of upper management’s insatiable need for making money.
How could anyone (it is often asked) actually like the day-to-day involvement with spandex clad fantasy figures? It’s a circular, self-contained argument: No one working in comics could really want to be working on corporate-owned superheroes; therefore, anyone working in that atmosphere must be working there against his will and is either to be pitied or held in contempt.
This is bull. It’s the conventional wisdom, but it’s bull nonetheless.
Originally published September 13, 1996, in Comics Buyer’s Guide #1191
For the past two weeks, we’ve been bringing you installments of an unused Space Cases script written by Bill Mumy and Peter. The ship’s crew has seen a vision of their imminent destruction and Davenport is dealing with it poorly. Rosie, on the other hand, is facing a crisis of her own.
Originally published September 6, 1996, in Comics Buyer’s Guide #1190
Last time, we presented Part 1 of Peter David and Bill Mumy’s unfilmed script for an episode of Space Cases. As we left the crew of the Christa, they were attempting to discover the source of a scene showing the ship’s (and presumably the crew’s) demise.
Originally published August 30, 1996, in Comics Buyer’s Guide #1189
Gather round, kiddies—it’s another ripping installment of:
Useless Stories
As I write this, I’m in sunny Montreal, where Space Cases is being prepped for its second season (set to begin in October). In that spirit, I’ve decided to show you a script that was written for the first season but—for a variety of reasons—didn’t get used. Written by Space Cases co-creator Bill Mumy and me, it shows the crew of the Christa learning one of the oldest lessons around: that the saying “May you live in interesting times” is the deadliest curse in the universe.
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