Nerds of a Feather

I've been remiss in not posting this year about the San Diego Comic-Con International (motto: "Now With 33% More Obese Superheroes").  So let's take care of that.  First, a look back over five reasons why this year's Con was the best ever:

1. Sock networking
I brought Marcheline, my princess puppet best known for her work in The Golden Stoat (see photo below).  This was an excellent career move (for both of us) in the sense that she has great mass appeal, by which I mean "mega-honkin' pom-pom bosoms."  This sort of thing is extremely de rigueur* at the Comic-Con, where there are more x-treme bosoms than you can shake a stick at, although we're not sure why you would want to.  At any rate, Marcheline fit right in, and we even had chance encounters with several other itinerant puppeteers, who were also strolling with their puppets.  Our puppets had loud conversations, during which people came by and took pictures of the occasion.  That's right.  Comic-Con photographers took time out to photograph puppets chatting.  I like to think that, while this was going on, streams of major celebrities were passing by behind the photographers. 

2. We sold all the Pibgorn books 
That's right.  If you want any of the five titles sold by the esteemed Pib Press, you are going to have to order them online at http://pibpress.blogspot.com.  We sold every single copy we brought with us, sometimes - this was my favorite part - to people who had never even heard of the strip.  These were generally guys, whose rationale for purchasing was something like:


* They were keen to discover a heretofore unfamiliar artistic oeuvre featuring hot babe fairy demon succubi.
* Also, I, the salesperson, had smiled at them a lot.

One eager dude was so charmed by my sales prowess he actually went so far as having me sign the book (alongside my dad's signature), even though I warned him this could devalue it.

3. The Doofenshmirtz Blimp

Regrettably, this picture sucks, but I hope it at least gives you an idea of the glory that was the Phineas and Ferb booth.  It also featured a large vehicle shaped like a platypus and called "Perry the Platy-bus."

4. The Screaming Booth
This is a real thing, and I observed it for an extended period of time.  It's one of those things from which you can't turn away, like a bloody gory car wreck, or American Idol.  Here is how the Screaming Booth works: it's a booth, and you get in and scream.  You try to scream as loudly as you possibly can, so as to beat the score of the last person who screamed.  As long as I watched, I don't think anybody ever got past 8.79 ("Nuclear Test"), but the scale went all the way up to 11 ("Gilbert Gottfried").

I would have been extremely wary to participate, for fear of busting a vocal cord, but here is the thing: there were HORDES of people lined up to scream in the booth.**  There was a perky female Scream Booth Spokesperson with a microphone, and she would call out "Who's next?" and hands would wave wildly, as if these people were competing for a vacation to beautiful Puerto Vallarta on The Price is Right, instead of a chance to scream real loud.  Then microphone girl would choose someone, and ask them, "So, Mark,*** tell me something that makes you really mad," and Mark would go, "Um, my brother," and he'd get in the booth and close the door and YAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH the little sensor on the Scream-o-Tron would crawl up maybe to 8.5, causing the crowd to give hearty cheers of encouragement ("Yeeeaaaa") and maybe get some more popcorn.  And perky microphone girl would note that the score to beat was still 8.79, but, "Good try!"

As a college graduate who has been rigorously trained to "wind up" by finding the subtext in a topic, I feel compelled to say this taught us about humanity, because, what the heck.

(Actually, as I understand it, this booth was intended as a tie-in with some movie about rage, but seriously, who even cared? My life was full as I watched, any way you look at it.)

5. The Flarp (and the Cake)

I cannot be exaggerating when I say that this item is the second-most seminal creation in the history of mankind, ranking right up there with fire, gravity, the wheel, the transmission, the power seats and that half-pretzel half-cracker thingie I once inhaled a boxful of on the way home from Shaw's supermarket. 

Here is what the Flarp does: it makes flarping noises.  Several of them, in fact.  Designated by a series of cheerfully colored buttons, they are called "Ripper," "Power," "Uptight," "Juicy," "Nervous," and of course "Classic."  These sounds must be heard to be believed, although I'm sure you can go something of the distance in imagining them.  Go on, try.

I found this unparalleled item precisely where you'd expect, namely the clearance rack at Ralph's, an extremely enchanting grocery store that does not exist on the East coast.  Hence I had to discover it in CA, where suffice it to say I immediately developed a deep and obsessive infatuation with it.  My father says I am the only person he knows who has uttered the phrase "Bow-chicka-wow-wowww" about a supermarket.  I say there have to be others.

You'll understand after seeing this image, courtesy of Ralph's bakery:

This almost totally made up for the fact that I did not see my favorite Mythbuster, Grant Imahara, anywhere at the Comic-Con this time around (although his co-star Kari Byron and I did pass each other outside the convention center.  Maybe I am fated to sight just one Mythbuster a year). 

Actually, my brush with the famous this year came when actor Anthony Head, formerly of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, came by the National Cartoonists Society booth (where I was stationed to dispense Pib Press merch and smiles as needed).  I had a nice chat with Head and his publicist, who were buying T-shirts, although shamefully I didn't place who the former was until, like, 2 minutes into the conversation, even though he was wearing a name tag (my excuse is I never watched enough Buffy episodes).  There's just no way to go, all of a sudden like that, "Ah, yes! Now I know who you are! I dimly recall your work!" Awwwwkward.  He seemed like a very nice guy.

All in all, it was a wonderful experience, and I certainly hope to return before too long.  If you don't see me at the Comic Con (hint: look for the puppet), you'll be able to hear me over the din of the crowd.  "What's that sound?" you'll muse.  That, my friend, is the call of the Flarp.




* French; literally, "mega-honkin'"
** 1 horde = 2.56 scads = 18.723 scabs = .05 euro
*** Even if the person's name was Caitlin.

The Musée Gadagne in Lyon, France

Back in the spring of 2010, when I was living in Paris as Columbia University's premier and only puppet researcher, I got a hundred euros from the university for the express purpose of traveling to Lyon and looking at puppets for a day.  Seriously! I was so touched and thrilled at this stunning departure from their normal stingy-butt universityness* that I will generously refrain from mentioning that they did not pay for me to stay there overnight - nor, might I add, did they pay for my brioche.  Although perhaps there was a good reason for this.  Perhaps there is a clause in the Official University Stingy-Butt Charter that goes something like this:

Ye Olde Universitye Stingy-Butte Chartere 

of Columbia University in the City of New York 

established 1764

interred 1825

no Discover cards

"Ad hoc furcifer pestis sternum" (= "Superrific Dry Cleaning While-U-Wait")**

ARTICLE XVXVIIIIFFVLLLMX***: Thou shalt not pay for a student's brioche, because the student might enjoy it, duh.  This is not a chance thou canst afford to take.


But I got to go to Lyon, anyway, and I got to see the Musée Gadagne, which consists of two parts.  As an academic researcher, I am thoroughly versed in scholarly analysis; thus, I am able to break down these two parts of the museum as follows:

• the Puppet Part
• the Boring Part That Has To Do With Other Stuff

No, in all seriousness, both parts are pretty interesting.  The latter part is actually devoted to the history of Lyon.  Because of my limited time there, I didn't get much of a chance to see the Lyon part, but I know all about the history of France anyway, thanks to a wonderful history professor who, come to think about it, mostly just chatted with me about Tintin books.  So the history of France as I understand it involved some seafaring, an encounter with the Abominable Snowman, and a missing emerald, and it was all drawn by a Belgian.  (Write this down, children.)

At any rate, the puppet part of the museum was fabulous.  Lyon is the birthplace of Guignol, an iconic little puppet guy who embodies the rich French cultural tradition of bashing people over the head with a stick.  Oh, sure, they TRY to keep quiet about their beloved national pastime, but seriously, you wouldn't believe the carnage that goes on every day behind closed doors at the Élysée Palace.

Up and down the streets of Lyon you see scads**** of stores selling Guignol T-shirts, mugs, toothbrushes, toenail clippers, catheters, etc.  Obviously Guignol is something of a local superstar, a bit like Justin Bieber, only more virile.

Here is a portrait which hangs in the Musée Gadagne, depicting Frédéric Josserand, a founding father of Guignol.  In all seriousness, I have to say this is probably my favorite portrait in the world.  I can't tell you how happy it made me:

Next up is a cellist unlike any other.  I mean, can you imagine the looks he must get in the conservatory cafeteria?

And here is L'Enfant from Ravel's L'Enfant et les Sortileges, a piece that, if you haven't heard it, you must.  (Dead serious.  Hear it right now.  It is 42 minutes inexpressibly well spent.) 

A poster from one of the shows of Jacques Chesnais, a well-known puppeteer from Paris who performed in the early 20th century.  I'll blog more on Chesnais and his work another time.

Other assorted friends of mine whose acquaintance I made that day at the Musée ...

And, finally, the pièce de résistance (meaning "piece of resistance") of my photographic collection: these wacky and fun-loving Dutch marionnettes.  Suffice it to say it's always a party with these folks around:

So if you're in Lyon, or you're planning a trip there, I highly recommend a visit to the Musée.  It's small, but full of fascinating things, and I only wish I'd had the chance to explore it longer.  Therefore, when you go on your own trip, I urge you, as a devoted academic researcher of the puppet arts - I urge you, from the very bottom of my heart - to have Columbia pay for it.  If you can possibly figure out a crafty way, add a brioche or two to their tab.





* I have graduated, so now I can say this.  Nyah nyah nyah nyah nyah nyah.
** This is what it says on my diploma.  No, you are not allowed to see.  Get your own.
*** Forty-twelve.

**** Scads is a metric unit.  1 scad = 5.4 humdingers.

We're the Tatterdema-li-ONS!

That is to say, think of it to the tune of this lovely number.

Now that I've graduated, I've formed a one-woman puppet company, THE MIGHTY TATTERDEMALIONS (the plural designates me and the puppets), for performances around New England.  Check us out at http://themightytatterdemalions.weebly.com.

aisle six, finally finally

So, it happened.  My musical, AISLE SIX, about a cursed supermarket (and alternatively known as "your one-stop supermusical" - get it? get it?) finally got its long-delayed outing at the Players Club of NYC.  And what an outing it was.

I really can't say enough good about my costars, who were endlessly enthusiastic, committed, and professional.  Nor can I say enough good about the audience members, who were wonderfully receptive, vocal, entertained and ready for anything.  So God knows this makes for a pretty boring post.

On that note: Photos! (credit goes to Christin, photographer extraordinaire)

Rob and Hondo, ever in sync

Shawn with a bucket of fake food, which the script called for him to strew about the floor - and which he did with abandon, I might add ...

... as evidenced here

While the others rehearsed their numbers I amused myself by drawing helpful diagrams, such as this one of what Hondo would look like with one eyeball hanging out on a puppet optic nerve (which, indeed, the script calls for, even though you see Hondo in his sprightly youthful form in the pic above)

Music rehearsal

This .... oh, this pretty much only makes sense in context.  You had to be there.  Imagine it! You'll laugh. 

This is as close as I ever get to an action sequence.

And now the heart of the bit! This is the poster my dad designed for the show - on display at New York's one and only historic Players Club of New York, the night of the show.  Check it out.  How many puppet-with-optic-nerve-damage posters do you think New York's one and only historic Players Club of New York displays on an ordinary night? ZERO.  THAT'S how many.  Yuhhh-huh.

Voilà:

From far away

and closer up!

Some of my cast members rehearsing in our performance space just before the reading.

The cast (please note extremely professional prop at the bottom right corner)

 Would I do it again? In a heartbeat.  Now I just want to get the scripts out of people's hands! No more staged readings for this baby.  It wants to operate without a net.  But this was a heck of a trial run.  Beautifully received, performed with great enthusiasm by all.  Onward and upward!

Puppets!

I've gone into business! As STOAT & CO. - Custom Puppets ! !

That's right.  Want a puppet? Custom-made, at a low low price? Sure you do.  Click on the tab above. Go on.  Cliiiiiick ... iiiiiiit ! ! !

Or else: BANJO MUSIC! BWA HA HA HA HA HAAAAA ! ! !

I'm sorry I had to do that.  It's for your own good, honestly.

Since you asked, I can be reached at thesnarkascending@gmail.com.

o snarker, where art thou?

I've been AWOL.  I'm sorry.  There's no excuse.

Well, except that I joined a French theatre troupe, my musical finally received its honest-to-goodness test outing at the Players Club of NYC, I wrote and directed and performed in and made the puppets for two original puppet shows, and ... hmmm, there was one other thing.  What was it? . . .

. . . . . . . . .

. . . . . . . . .

Oh, yeah! I graduated from college!

Those of you who have followed this blog (or lack of) over the past four years will recall that, at times* I have been dismissive, derogatory, sneering, snide, even a little ambivalent toward the university system.  But now, here at the "other end" of things, as I look back through the past four years with the kind of reflective stance that can only come of standing reflectively, I must admit, in all honesty, that college is still really pretty stupid.

Naww, but seriously, I have to say the last semester was no slouch.  Here we are, the French/Francophone theatre troupe "L'Atelier entre deux murs" (The Workshop Between Two Walls), performing Ionesco's Le Roi se meurt back in February.  This is the play that gets translated as Exit the King in English, basically because if they translated it literally as The King Dies Himself, the French would all be considered Loony McLoonybutts, except of course for the aristocracy, who would be considered Loony de McLoonybutts.

What with being the only American/non-native Francophone in the company, the onus was on me** to not sound like a total raving dipwad, a feat I am reasonably sure I accomplished with aplomb.***  But either way, you're never going to find out, since these photos can't talk nyah nyah nyah.

In all seriousness, it was a blast, and I only wish we'd gotten to perform the play more times.  We were originally scheduled for an extra performance at the Lycée Français de New York, only to be mysteriously cancelled days before.  I never really got to say goodbye to my character Queen Marguerite and I'm sorry for that.  But I'm glad we got the one go.

As you may note, I played the role in a relatively ill-fitting garment, expressly designed for an individual with more bodice-filling aptitude (this being one of the things they test you on when you take the SAT).  However, it turns out this is an excellent way to keep your energy (alternatively known as "terror") level nice and high during a performance.  Which, in fact, I already knew from prior experience; I've been in shows where (a) I actually had a dress come OFF and (b) a baseball fell smack down onto the middle of my head.  So this was no biggy.  You learn how to roll with things.  Or, as we say in French, "on apprend à roller with things."

Next up: Aisle Six, the glorious premiere at the Players Club last month.  Stay tuned!






* Specifically, all times.
** As in, "AHHH! THERE'S AN ONUS ON ME! GET IT OFF!!!"
*** As in, "Gee, Bob, you washed those windows with aplomb."  "Naw, I'm pretty sure I used a squeegee."****
**** There will be no more stupid word jokes for the remainder of this post.  Probably.

les aventures du marionnettiste

So, as many of you know, I'm doing this puppet show, The Golden Stoat.  In which, the puppets have breakfast.  Which necessitated a tea set.  So I went to the toy store:

SALESLADY: Can I help you?
ME: Yes, I'm, ah, looking for something in a tea set.  Do you have one?
SALESLADY: (beat) Yes.  (longer beat) For ... children.

Don't judge, lady.  I gots puppets.  And they hold grudges.