Originally published July 11, 1997, in Comics Buyer’s Guide #1234

Some basic random and scattered recollections of the Heroes Aren’t Hard to Find convention:

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Originally published July 4, 1997, in Comics Buyer’s Guide #1233

Last year’s “yet” film was Independence Day. A “yet” film, for those who missed the column or else simply have more important things on their mind (like, well… anything, I guess) is one wherein you don’t simply ask friends, “Have you seen (fill in the blank)?” Instead you ask, “Have you seen (fill in the blank) yet?” because it’s simply a given. It crosses genre lines and interest lines, cutting a swathe across the American movie-going consciousness and, by the way, sucks up dollars in the same manner that–these days–Rob Liefeld attracts negative press.

This year’s “yet” film is, of course, the movie that you’ve already seen: The Lost World: Jurassic Park, in which the dinosaurs look great.

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Originally published June 27, 1997, in Comics Buyer’s Guide #1232

I remember the first and only time I saw him in person.

It was at the earliest point in my career… indeed, it was before I even had a career. At the time I was still considering the notion of trying to break into news writing. Obviously, it was long before I wound up with a career in fiction (although some reporters produce work which clearly falls into the category of fiction.) And I’d had a job interview at CBS News. The job basically involved sitting and transcribing news broadcast into hard copy. Someone’s got to do it, after all; you didn’t think that those transcriptions they’re always telling you that you can send away for wrote themselves, did you?

It was described to me as “entry level,” but as I asked around it seemed to me that a more appropriate description was “dead end.” It simply wasn’t something I could see going anywhere. I’d pretty much made up my mind that I wasn’t interested in it…which worked out fine, because as it happened, they didn’t offer it to me.

But I remember standing in the lobby, looking at some picture on the wall. My back was to the receptionist. And I heard her say, “Good night, Mr. Keeshan.”

And a voice as familiar to me as that of my own parents said, “Good night.”

I turned and there he was: the Captain. The Captain.

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