Flaky is the new flirty

What is with flaky girls these days?

I'm not saying this as another "guy who considers himself a 'nice guy' and is getting all woe-is-me when women seem to pass him up all the time". Far from it, I know my faults and I'm quite aware of stuff I do wrong on dates or when flirting with women. The whole "nice guy" thing is a little overrated - there are definitely a lot of guys out there who try to use the "but I'm a nice guy" bit to justify laying a guilt trip on a girl if she doesn't - gasp - think they're a good match! A spark isn't always guaranteed, I'm well aware of that. It's what happens after there is a spark (at least with me, I don't know if this happens with other guys as well), which irks me.

Over the past 2 years, I've been on several dates, which ranged from awesome to forgettable. I made a few mistakes, so did they, so at least we all pass the Voight-Kampff test of humanity, so no issues there. More often than not, however, I've seen that whenever there is a true spark - and I'm talking a mutual, reciprocated feeling of a connection that both parties share while meeting - invariably, the girl completely flakes after a few days. These are far from disastrous dates, if anything: they were the epitome of pleasant first encounters. I'm not a big fan of the "wait three days" rule, but I do let a respectable amount of time go by (no more than a day, at the most two) to show that I'm interested in meeting again. Whenever I do, however, I either get a few more positive signs that she's interested as well, and then the quick brushoff/dropoff in communication, OR, breezy resolved silence on the other end. No returned calls, or texts, or emails. I'm no creep, so I can take the hint. I usually send out one feeler email or text (voicemail if I'm feeling especially encouraged by her positive signals from the date) and wait for a response. If there is no response, I let my feeler email percolate for a little while (5 or 6 days) before I send a quick text saying nothing more than "hey there". Just to see if perhaps she's had a busy week and hasn't had time to think about meeting again.

Every time though - no response. I've grown to accept rejection a lot better than I did when I first started dating after becoming single, 2 years ago. I've learned to laugh it off, learn where I could improve my game, so to speak, and most importantly move on. However, throughout my dating experience these couple of years, I've come across the same scenario over and over again. I've read blog/journal posts from both sides of this conversation: guys who say that women should at least say as much that they're simply not interested, and women rebutting that even if they do so, there are jerks out there who make it into a federal case. I wholeheartedly agree, it's whiny, clingy weirdos out there who think arguing their way into acceptance from a woman is the way to go, and they're ruining it for the rest of us.

Having said that, I just don't think there should be any excuse for rudeness, or for that matter, flakiness, leading someone on, creating false hope. When all signs during a meeting are quite positive (and not just interpreted as positive), at least one person is going to assume things will progress to at least a second date. That first blind date is so contrived and nerve wracking (first impressions and whatnot - which is bullshit by the way, no one is ever really themselves on a first date), one wants that second meeting to let their guard down a little. I guess I'm just tired of constantly meeting women who say/indicate one thing, then go on and do something else.

I think I've just met women who aren't really looking to date, but simply to test the waters. They may be testing to see if they've got what it takes to get a guy, to see what the market looks like, get over an ex quickly, or perhaps even exploring several simultaneous avenues. I had a date recently where we seemed to get along fine, but just three days after the date, she let me know that she had just gotten serious with someone else. Three days is barely enough time to "get serious", no matter how pants-splittingly awesome someone is. Either that was just an excuse to make sure I never contacted her again (all we did was have coffee and polite conversation - it's not like I threw the coffee in her face and humped the table - so it wasn't like it was a horrible experience for either of us) or she was already seeing this guy and just wanted to see what her other options were. The first girl I actually went out on a date with since becoming single gave me every positive sign in the book - including a very meaningful kiss (and we were both sober). She responded to my simple email asking if she'd like to get lunch some time with "let's just stay platonic". Ouch. We hung out a few times for sure, and every time it was just blatantly obvious that we connected incredibly well. I had developed a crush on this girl, but she kept me at bay.

As a result of several similar scenarios playing out, I've grown quite paranoid of relationships, to be quite honest. One of the (myriad) reasons things didn't work out with my last girlfriend was because she was phasing me out of her life, slowly but surely. She would ignore a lot of my messages or keep phone calls short (we were doing the long distance thing for a while and I was doing my best to make the distance seem shorter), and only call me if she wanted to vent about something. I was basically an acquaintance by the end, not a boyfriend or even close friend. Whenever I see someone I have a connection with shut me out, it just brings back bad memories. I'm sure I'm not alone on this.

If women complain about men only looking for hookups online (not every one of us, trust me; if anything, I think most of us are looking for someone trustworthy and to be a great companion, in and out of the bedroom), then I think guys reserve the right to complain about a lot of women out there putting up dating profiles and meeting on dates, only to pull a disappearing act days later - in other words, not actually looking to date or having standards higher than a hippy on April 20th.

I'm sure I'll get flak for saying that - perhaps along the lines of "have you ever considered that you're just not their type and they're letting you off easy by just not getting back to you?" I can see that. I'm not the perfect guy by any stretch of the imagination, but I know that I'm a pretty cool person - if I'm taking the time to get back to you and show that you had an effect on me, the least you can do is let me know, or better yet, keep overt, positive signs till a later date if you're actually interested.

List of places to donate for Haiti rescue/recovery efforts

If anyone in my readership is able to donate any amount - even $5 - towards rescue/recovery efforts in Haiti, I've done my best to compile a list of portals through which you may send money:

• http://www.google.com/relief/haitiearthquake/
• https://www.habitat.org/cd/giving/donate.aspx?link=227&media=Google&source_code=DHQMW0000W1129
• https://donate.doctorswithoutborders.org/SSLPage.aspx?pid=197&hbc=1&source=ADR1001E1D01
• http://stillerstrong.org/
• http://www.redcross.org/en/givehere/
• http://donate.ifrc.org/
• https://donate.pih.org/page/contribute/haiti_earthquake
• https://re.clintonfoundation.org/SSLPage.aspx?pid=3869
• https://www.wfp.org/donate/haiti
• http://www.networkforgood.org/
• http://www.hopeforhaitinow.org
  
• You can donate via text message by texting the word "HAITI" to 90999. This will add a $10 pledge to your cell bill which will be forwarded to the Red Cross.

I know I have a limited readership, but if some of you out there reading (I know my Google Analytics info! You're out there!) can find the time and money to donate to these fine causes, that would be appreciated. Death toll, at the time of this writing, is about 72,000 but they are still finding people - even those who've been buried under rubble for up to a week. Kids who need new homes, medicine, supplies, or people who have no way of securing medical help without some assistance. Go forth and donate!

My Stupid Guide to Dating

If you're like me - god forbid - then you're probably a male aged 18 to 45 (which sounds like a tiring, time-consuming feat) who's been playing the dating game and getting his ass handed to him shamelessly for a while now. To continue the "game" metaphor, your dating experiences have been such embarrassing exhibitions of social interplay that your dads left their cold bleachers seats in disgust, tailgated some more at the parking lot and punched out a crossing guard.

Did you not like the extended metaphor back there? Would it have been better if I just said "Your dating game is very poor, you never seem to 'score'!" It wouldn't have been better if I said it. That's a mom joke if I've ever heard one. I take that back. Not even a self-respecting, Obama-fearing mom would touch that joke, it's so damn bad.

I'm not saying I've had cartoonishly bad "horror story" dates in the past couple of years, but I've certainly haven't had roaring, pants-ripping success with the ladies. I almost regret not having a dating experience that makes for a rollicking good story at parties or rape counseling. I mean, I've gone out for a drink with a fair share of women, even seemed to make a connection or two. The "bad" dates comprised of some contrived conversation, hilarious bon mots from yours truly and follow-up communiques that went without reply. "Good" dates consisted of some contrived conversation, more hilarious bon mots and some making out, the likes of which you've never seen; plus some back and forth communication, but then one fine day, nothing.

The net worth of my dating exploits, good or bad, has still resulted in single living. This probably doesn't qualify me to be the best person to dole out dating advice, but I set out for this to be a comedy post, so just roll with it.

With no further ado, here are some spectacular dating tips from the man with the plan and a gun in my hand!

Have an awesome photo. If you're one of the crazy people who actually meets/met your significant other in real life, either through work, mutual friends or a meet-cute where you get exactly the same assortment of donuts on your way home from work, you'll probably be doing a lot of dating through online means. The great luxury of online dating is, if you're a homely, undateable mess, people can just straight up ignore you and spare you the embarrassment of calling you a homely, undateable mess in front of co-workers or pets. If you're already in some way good looking, your awesome photo is already in the bag. Go heat up a taco, you deserve it.

Go get a photo taken with someone in a suit, then a photo with some people in crew shirts, "partying it up" on a "thirsty Thursday". Just put on a suit, head to a small claims court and ask a lawyer to take a photo with you. They don't mind! This shows that you not only know how to let your hair down and cut loose, but that you can also get business done. Women want to see well rounded individuals who put in subtle hints about a man's life in his photos. They check out your clothes, choice of dinnerware, what your friends look like, so on. We men, usually go for the obvious, and check out her other attractive friends in her photos while we're at it. Don't deny it. We all do it.

You could photograph/photoshop yourself doing awesome things like feeding a hungry baby while jumping through a fiery hoop on a dirtbike for a south american charity. You could punch a television. A lot of hippy-dippy women these days proudly list that they "don't own a TV" to denote personality, so your violent aversion to the medium will certainly set some neo-soul hearts a-flutter. NOTE: do not use your own TV, those things are fucking expensive.

Women these days have a tall order of things they want from a man and have a laundry list of (well meaning but usually unrealistic) demands they have for the man of tomorrow (today!). A good photo can speak volumes for you and may warrant more than just a fleeting glance before they move on to the profile some dude named Brad set up in which he talks about how he "totally loves motocross and the Transporter movies".

Holy shit that section was long and we're still doling out next to no useful advice. Moving on...

Pick a public place to meet: For those of us who don't want a coffee date to end in a fuckdungeon filled with knives and lavender-scented candles, we'd rather find a nice public place with a 2 drink minimum where can spend time to get to know our dates. It doesn't have to be some place fancy. In fact, try and keep away from ritzy places till at least the third date. You see, your date doesn't want to feel like she's "on a date". You're just "grabbing coffee" or "getting a beer". The place you go to seize such beverages just happens to have chairs, where you will sit and talk of things and whatsits.

Both of you are in a neutral setting where, presumably, neither will set into motion drunken tirades on how lonely and cat-filled their lives are. It's the pressure of being in a controlled environment with easily marked Exit signs (things my apartment lacks, hence the cautious nature of some of my dates) and a coffee/booze supply. If the US and Iceland were out on a date, they'd meet at Switzerland. Then they'd head back to Nevada to "watch some Dexter DVDs" but actually to get it on.

Conversation: The elephant in the room is always conversation. What do you talk about? Are you talking too much? Are you lapsing into awkward silences? Those are the worst. Remember when you played Sonic and you'd be in an underwater level, and you'd start to drown (hey fuck you, of course you remember it; stop trying to impress girls by saying you don't)? Remember that goddamn music that pressed on you to find an air bubble quick or let the blue hedgehog DIE? Awkward silences during dates are exactly like that. It's a feeling of impending doom, sorrow, and a panic attack that could fell the Incredible Hulk.

And those few sentences right there are probably the reason I'm single as of this writing. But I digress.

Do not by any means rehearse what you're going to say beforehand. This doesn't make you look like the spontaneous, exciting, bungee jumping paradigm-shifter you're trying to make yourself out to be. Let the conversation flow naturally and relax. However, ladies? I must say, a lot of times you folks put it squarely on the guy to keep the conversation going. And then we get awkward silences and he has to come up with something or else hear this music in his head over and over. We are not player pianos of information. Conversation is a two way street, so you have to keep it going too. That's what human beings do.

When in doubt, or experiencing a lull, try and go all meta on her ass and talk about the date itself, the inanity of some dating conventions, how sometimes silence between people can actually be quite nice or even some funny dating horror stories, as long as you don't make it seem like this date is turning into one. Dating can sometimes be a very artificial method to conversation, but the stories are there, you just have to bring them out of each other. Unless you're both dull as dishwater, in which case just skip to the check, go home, and bang till the neighbors complain.

(Don't) be yourself: Take a good long look at yourself. You're being yourself right now. Do you see any swooning around you while you read this, throwing back a mint julep? You don't. That's because most of the time, our regular selves make for pretty boring non-fiction. Women may put forward a list of things they like, namely "just a nice guy", but you'll find that their last few boyfriends were probably jerk-offs. This isn't because women have the memory of goldfish [citation needed]. It's because women act a lot like how American policy is depicted in that one South Park episode where it's established that the US says one thing and does another: one half of its people protest warfare while the other half support its actions. This is to come across as caring and nice, while at the same time being fierce and dominating. The same with women, my friend. A woman will never straight up say she likes the douchey, slightly overconfident guy who makes her wait in the car while he hits on her mom. She'll say she wants a "nice guy" so that she'll appeal to you, but secretly she hopes you're the bad boy who'll introduce her to rock n' roll and gang shootouts.

So be yourself, but remember you're there to put on a bit of a show. Most animals don't always flaunt their mating colors all the damn time, they just do it when it's appropriate. You have to preen, strut and make her feel interested in what you seemingly have to offer. It's only when you enter into something of a relationship when you can kind of let your guard down a bit. If she sticks around once the real you surfaces, she's a keeper. Otherwise, you may not want to renege on the rest of those motorcycle riding lessons just yet.

Women: there are definitely a lot of nice guys out there who are more than willing to be what you want them to be, which is responsible, caring, hygienic, Edward from Twilight, over 6 feet tall with a successful hedge fund and wildlife charity, so on. No wait, that's bullshit. The truth is, some ridiculous standards hurt more than they help to sift through the chaff, whether it's coming from a guy or a girl.

Maintain eye contact: You actually have a lady in front of you who's not a checkout person or a midwife! Use these fleeting moments wisely. I'm not saying stare into her eyes intently like a senior citizen inspecting a melon at the store, but make sure you're looking at her while talking, and not breaking the horizon, so to speak. You know what I mean. Boobs.

Don't look at other women, whatever you do. What's wrong with you? You're on a date with a woman, who is probably for all intents and purposes, charming, and wants you to look at her, and definitely to check her out when she's getting up to get a drink. Women are territorial creatures who will splash their mimosa in your face if they catch you checking someone else out. This will result in a comical misunderstanding where she storms off, you look befuddled, and a witty restaurant patron will drop a well-timed one-liner, to the amusement of all.

Clean yourself up, jeez: Guys, no matter what TV or the movies have taught you, a lot of us can't pull off the devil-may-care 2 day stubble and think it brings the sexy. There's a reason it works on actors and other shitheads - they're people who can establish that veneer of mystique and practiced nonchalance, especially since most women will never be able to meet them and grate cheese off their cheeks. You, on the other hand, are some jagoff she's meeting for an orange smoothie and lame jokes. If you show up looking like Snake Pliskin, she may think you're averse to showers, razors and possibly normal human contact. Remember to shave and trim, make an effort to look and smell nice, carry mints with you. Ladies, this goes double for you.

The followup: So you've had a nice time. Or not. If there was no spark or real connection, then problem solved! She probably doesn't want to see you again (a lot of women don't really want to meet men anyway - sometimes they're just hungry) and you want to move on to the next foxy lady. But if you felt there was even an inkling of something there (and you'll grasp onto that something like a mountain climber to a ledge), you'll want to contact her again within a reasonable amount of time.

Now, I've never been a big fan of the whole "wait three days" mess. It definitely has its place, and sometimes giving a little space between the date and the followup is good. Gives you both time to digest what the hell just happened. The truth is, if you wait too long, she may think you're not interested. Also, the three day rule is such a cliche, if you actually do contact her by the third sunset, she may think you're some corny dork who's going to buy her chocolate, Sandra Bullock DVDs and footrub coupons (actually, hell yeah, get her footrub coupons, if they exist). A woman who's feeling you will want you to call maybe within a day or two. Nothing big, just say hi, you had a nice time, and - this is important - make a second date. Be decisive, in control and not let on that you are peeing your pants in fear. Since this would be over the phone or email, this should come easily. AS USUAL! Woooo!

If she doesn't reply right away, or in a few days, or ever, don't fret. I used to, and now look at me - 10 pounds lighter and living large! Wait, I mean...I used to get a little miffed by it, but you know what? The truth of the matter is, meeting people you basically want to spend a lot of time with and bone frequently, for an indefinite amount of time, is not easy. There's trust involved, as well as patience and sincerity. The dating world is frustrating and dodgy - for women, it can be a sketchy world full of married men and financially uncertain 20-somethings - but the key is to keep a healthy attitude, get out there, and not have friends feeding you tips on a lapel-mic while sitting in a van 30 feet away. As hilarious as that would be, it can only end in tears, or the girl walking away with one of your friends instead. IT COULD HAPPEN TO YOU.

Let's call it love. Let's call it a dump.

2 years ago

I was looking forward to seeing her again after what were months of strained emails, IMs and fleeting phone calls. These weren't regular phone calls. They weren't angry, sad, hopeful or, at times, even informative, at least from her end. They were phone calls that filled a purpose: a complaint, a soundboard, a way to pass the time until the next time a phone call was required. I was just happy to receive a phone call. I did my best to leave messages every other day to make the distance seem shorter, all 430 miles of gnarled roads and roadkill-festooned highways. I'd imagined myself the innocent, with seemingly innocuous attempts at keeping a kindling going between us, but there are times when you need to face the facts that the fire is out. And there's a bear waiting to eat your stomach, as soon as it's done taking a dump on your camp counselor's body.

The very last time she came up to visit was a strange day. I greeted her in Boston and she immediately commented on my coffee breath. I admittedly had been staying up all night with excitement and was a little droopy by the time I got off the train, so I chugged a medium regular and waited with bated, horrible breath. Nice to see her too, I said. She gave me some action figures for my birthday, which came with a free accompanying graphic novel, so I clapped my hands and laughed with joy. Steely silence as we rode the T into the city, conversation maintained in profile, mouth turned away, until I could buy a mint.

I bought her expensive lunch which she barely touched. We had a long, super serious talk about what was becoming of us in the park, only to have the terse standoff interrupted by a vociferous bum who claimed to know what really happened to JFK's brain. He looked like he was ready to fling feces in support of his claim. We prudently thought it best to continue the conversation while walking away.

She'd flown in because it was a little faster and apparently cheaper; the deal was that if she took the plane tickets, she'd get a hotel room as well. We took the train back from Boston to the city and I asked her why she'd bother to stay at the hotel since my apartment was, you know, there. I was all for a good heated argument but make-up sex on a moving train with no private compartments is typically frowned upon, no matter how "cleverly" you position a blanket or Snuggie.

It wasn't like we were at each others' throats the entire time. Glimmers of what used to be a terrific relationship would poke through now and then, and those were blessed moments. However, the day had that nagging feeling that you get when you watch a prequel or historical epic. You're fairly certain how everything turns out and are more interested in how it's presented to you, hoping your intelligence won't be insulted (it will be). We stopped by my apartment first and watched a little TV, talked about what we wanted to do for dinner. I suggested the place we always got falafel from, but she preferred to have them deliver to the hotel instead. I warned that the hotel might be out of their delivery radius, but she no listen, no listen.

We get to the hotel room - a superfluous hotel room, I make no bones of reminding her of this - she unpacks a bit and I look online for places we could get dinner from. We call the falafel place and they don't deliver to the hotel. I almost laugh, but instead the entire weight of the day - the short jabbing arguments, her predominantly icy demeanor, staying at a hotel, insistence that she spend time with friends who didn't even deign to come pick her up from her hotel - it all came screeching to my feet like a cat on fire, and all I could think of saying were the words no woman ever wants to hear, but won't hesitate to tell you any chance they get:

"I told you so!"

She almost threw a remote at me in this weird moment of rage, where she was contemplating either staying her hand and just yelling at me for being a jerk (I was being a jerk, but I gotta work with what I got) or just nail me on the head and tell the neighbors I fell while adjusting the TV. Thus ensued ye olde argument - you know the kind, where you're arguing about A, but it's really about B, so you do your best to really emphasize A so that he/she'll get the hint that B is really, really getting to you and you don't know how to get the stains out.

"I just don't understand why you can't just come stay with me at my apartment!"
"Why the hell would I want to stay in that dump! I came up to see you, not my friends, you're being a jackass! I want to hang out with my friends tonight and see you later!"

I'm glad my head didn't literally explode upon hearing this, because housekeeping would have been pissed. I had been quite transition-minded while living in that apartment - always felt that it was only a temporary home while I planned to hopefully move closer to her. She had actually been the one to stress that I make my apartment into more of a home than just a place to store my boxes and bed. Even when I admitted it was a bit of a dumphole of a place, she stressed that I try and be comfortable in it, and be proud of where I lay my head. Good advice, really.

But now, this. The truth came out in a torrent of bile and frustration at not eating fresh delivered falafel. Was it possible she thought the apartment was a dump all along? Is that why she didn't come over to stay with me? Was the apartment a metaphor for me or the relationship? Was the relationship a horrible dump she didn't want to be involved with any longer? Was the relationship too conveniently located, with all utilities paid and a strict "no pets" rule? Was there only room for one person in this relationship, with plenty of closet space?

I walked out. I knew she was only in town for about two and a half days, but I was done for the night. I went home, ordered pizza, ate and ignored phone calls. I hung out with her the next day, which was halfway decent if it weren't for the shitty, shitty rain that prevented us from taking a walk. We got mexican food and it was almost like old times. She stayed with me that night, at my apartment. We had another argument. There was so much damage being created here with no one owning up and taking some blame, you'd think we were matched up by FEMA.

Then the morning she was going to leave, she spent 2 hours having breakfast with a friend who wouldn't go out of her way to make time for her, much less drive her to the airport that day after being asked nicely. She left about an hour later, and that was the last time I saw her.

Which led me to take a good look around the apartment - it was a dump! Holy shit! And it wasn't even because of the lack of accouterments strewn across the apartment in that joyless way some people effort to convey their (lack of) personality, or the curved walls, or cracking paint/spackle, or the fact that it was located in a section of the city that residents of Compton would refer to as possessing a "rustic, quaint charm".

No. It was the mice. It had to be. We never saw a single one, but I'm sure they were having dialogues while I was either in the bathroom or out buying soda/praying for a relationship miracle. Somewhere at the back, tucked away behind my stove, was a family of mice, laughing it up while they planned the evening's activities of shitting in my frying pan and leaving freaky shreds of paper in random places - like an even lamer Blair Witch, if that was even possible.

The mice were to blame. THEY'VE RUINED EVERYTHING.

We broke up a few months later and I redecorated the apartment. It's a much nicer looking dump and occasionally I buy nice candles that make it smell like a Layne Bryant. Or like Layne Bryant, who I'm sure is a jovial rotund lady not unlike a hormonally imbalanced Santa Claus and smells like a morning primrose fucking a basket of fresh laundry. I think we're both better off. I still think we should have just ordered wings that night. Maybe that was the one flap of butterfly wings that could have saved our relationship; nothing like the smell of honey barbecue and reconciliatory sex in the morning after.

In which Rob and I discuss the movie AVATAR

Rob: its a movie
Me: it's the EVENT OF OUR LIVES
Rob: i wouldnt go that far
Me: it's the DEFINING event of our GENERATION
Me: 1492: america is discovered by Jesus
1969: america lands on the moon and ends the cold war
2009: AVATAR
Me: all these years have the number 9 in them
Me: coincidence?
Rob: oh boy
Me: pirhana2:the spawning, terminator, aliens, terminator 2, the abyss, true lies, titanic, screenwriting for rambo II and spider-man
Me: NINE movies james cameron worked on in his life
Me: ELEVEN oscars for Titanic
Me: i'm going now
Me: NINE
Me: ELEVEN
Me: OPEN YOUR EYES, SO YE MAY SEE
Rob: i'm logging off
Me: no wait come back

Superman and his not-so-secret origin

I just read issue 3 of Secret Origin - the new (sigh) origin tale for Superman. As if the public wasn't well aware of his origin story as it is - it's a tactic to not only sell books but to smooth out continuity somehow - but instead of a tasteful retcon in current books, it's going to take a whole 6 issue origin tale. It's bad enough that the books so far have accepted whole heartedly the idea from Smallvile (cue puking noise) that Lex Luthor and Clark Kent both lived in Smallville and knew each other, but it seems that a lot of the sense of originality behind the 2003 reboot attempt by Mark Waid, Birthright, seems to be gone. As controversial as that reboot was, I loved it mainly because it really gave us a modern Superman, and was an excellent jumping off point for the character in the new decade. Plus it had plenty of original ideas that actually made Superman an interesting character. Not so with Geoff Johns' offering, which I can say, although I've enjoyed certain story beats in the arc, it's still far from the man's best writing.

The Superman:The Movie references that abound in this particular issue weren't even "wink and a nudge" - they were about as subtle as a Sherman tank. I thought we were getting an interesting new take on Superman with a few mixes of past mythologies, not a rehash of the freaking movie and bits of the show Smallville (ugh). The S:TM worship has been happening in recent comics way too much for it to even be "cute" or considered an homage at all. Right now it's just copious and lazy, lazy writing. In the years since the Byrne reboot, this is all we have to show for it?

This is the same kind of lazy writing that doomed Superman Returns to be nothing more than a cutesy retelling of the 1978 movie. So far, Secret Origin #3 just showed us Superman:The Movie set in a time with cellphones and email. Great.

Clark's outright bungling clumsiness was also pushing it a bit. I much preferred Birthright's take on it. The justification for that story was so much stronger: blend in completely, be a wallflower, so that no one could ever think you're putting on an act to cover up the fact that you're a superhero. It made sense there - I don't know whether Johns is just spread too thin these days with writing for Blackest Night, Green Lantern, the Flash, the show Titan Maximum, etc. but I think it took its toll on him on these issues with some of the lazy devices he's been using.

The good stuff: the stuff that wasn't aping Superman:The Movie. The public's slight mistrust upon seeing Superman and not just immediately accepting him as a good guy. The re-christening of the powerful material as "Metallo". Lois' character design was very nice - she had a nice frame and didn't fall prey to the disproportionate female character design most comics characters have.

That leads me to the absolute highlight of the series: the art is fantastic. I can at least see why Geoff Johns goes the Superman:The Movie route with some of the writing because Gary Frank just runs with the Christopher Reeve look for Clark and Superman, which I think is fast becoming the iconic look for the character for the 2000s. The other character designs aren't that much of an homage, but they look really, really good. The covers have also been really good, where each one takes us through an important stage in Clark's life - plus it's the hokey "line em up" technique which actually does make the series worth collecting by single issue.

They say there are no original stories, just very good retellings. Well, my friend Matt says that, but it's quite true. That's the reason I even bothered with Secret Origins: even though it's a story we've heard a thousand times, it's always worth investigating whether it's being told well. It's about 60% there, I'd say - again, unlike Mark Waid's Birthright, Johns still hasn't really gotten to showing us a Clark/Superman that we can actually find interesting. Which is a shame, since he's now a custodian of a character that both Bryan Singer as well as the assclowns behind Smallville have failed to deliver as compelling. What Johns has managed to do well is to give us an interesting tale of Superman's backdrop: Smallville, his parents, the Daily Planet staff. Perhaps while Batman is defined by his rogues gallery, Superman is defined by the people around him. Weird toothy smiles or not, his gallery of...cohorts? shines pretty well.

I'll follow the series through, but for now, if I want an origin tale, I'll either stick to Birthright or John Byrne's 80's riffic yet still awesome Man of Steel. Never read it? Think of Clark as the 80's guy from Futurama. But with less bone-itis.

Factory space in Orange MA

Blatantly inviting someone to call the cops on us, a couple of friends and I decided to go photographing some old factory space in Orange, MA. Enjoy.