Saturday, February 16, 2008
It's exciting post time at the Titan again! I eagerly anticipate and fear at the same time, the flood of comments that await such a conversational piece.
I love when people get dressed up as their favorite characters and go to cons. It's the dedication.
Oh, turns out this a patch representing the actual Hawkman, and not a fan. Or his half-brother Carl.
You're led to believe it's depth perception, but as you can see, Carter, having hit a rough spot, needs to work out his right arm in order to catch up to his left arm... then work everything out. Otherwise he's just a guy flying around wheeting.
Which will probably be his next incarnation.
It's little nuggets like this that are the cornerstone of any geekly collection. Sure the comics are nice. And the figures made solely for collectors get better and better, but this was where it was at. There just isn't nearly enough new crap like this floating around out there in the DC world.
Labels: merchandise, miscellaneous
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I love that patch. I understand Stallone has the same arm problem, because he worked out too hard and rupture muscles that could never fully recover. Also, women's boobs never quite match. It's just nature, baby.
What is it about crude stuff like this that makes it so much cooler than the intricately detailed direct market collectables? I think it just taps into something primal-- like seeing that when reduced to little more than hieroglyphics, a character still retains their essential appeal and recognizable identity.
Little warms my heart as much as the thought of some little squirt living in a trailer in Mobile, AL in 1968 on a playground with a Martian Manhunter temporary tattoo on his arm. The realization with something like this patch is that it's not some precious thing to be sealed in plastic for future generations, but a geek chic accessory begging to be sewn onto a denim jacket. It's the same deal with all the retro stressed t-shirts, giving inherent permission to take the sucker out and wear it, because it'll never be pristine by nature. Comic books have become your grandmother's precious china you're never allowed to eat on, instead of the festive Slurpee cups we knew and loved.
Also, off-topic, just playing with you at ...nurgh... Sarcasm still translates poorly in this medium.
oh, that patch is all kinds of awesome.
The crudeness is a big part of it's charm. If I can find a double, I've got just the denim jacket for it. Otherwise, I might regret blowing the one I've got.
As for sarcasm, I had, for 3 years running, been the internet's leader of "sarcasm flying overhead." There was also one day a year chosen at my school to be "Damian sincerity day." Never panned out though...
I had gotten lost in the shuffle since then, but I still dish it out often just to find internet silence on the other end.
It is with open arms that I welcome the sarcasm, and if I have to go to nurgh to get it, then dammit that's what I'll do.
...nurgh... is equipped for all your sarcasm needs, but will always be ruled by a blunt and often misguided honesty.... nurgh will not fit in your tiny little boxes, and will not buy your Boy Scout Coupon booklet with special deals on Luby's Cafeteria for ten dollars when it can get by with a donation for $5. Take that, juvenile sales rep!
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