Spanking King Julien

The Penguins of Madagascar are coming to a toy store near you. Be on the look out for Flightless Figures (except of for the pictured Spanking King Julien), playsets and plenty of plush.

Jeff is Orson Welles

So we thought we had a fun and somewhat final cut on our hands. We posted the Quicktime movie and waited. After a few minutes, the phone rang. "Yeah, it's... uh... very good. I like it." It was the voice of Jeff. I sensed there was a proverbial "But" coming. "But," he said -- ah ha! I knew it! "I think I can make it better. You mentioned that any tweaks could be done easily enough, as long as I don't get all Orson Welles on you. Well, you're not gonna like this. But I AM very Orson Welles-like."

We buttoned-up the MacBook Pro, brought along that fun mocha-colored portable drive, and headed over to Jeff's. After we got all set-up, he sat down next to us with a glass of red wine in his hand. "Okay, let's get down to work now." My God, was that really poured from a bottle of Paul Masson?

Damn if five hours didn't pass. We made all the changes he asked for -- and the piece was shaping up just like Orson wanted it. It was his piece, after all. He loved it. Absolutely loved it. We enjoyed the whole process simply because the man was unabashed at wearing a dress and red wig.

We were pleased that we had made him happy. And he promised that everyone at the National Cartoonists Society would be rolling on the floor in hysterics. Well, that was good enough for me. Mission accomplished. And we didn't even have to land on a carrier.

As we packed things up, Jeff disappeared for a moment, then returned from his studio. He was dressed all in black. "Sit down," he demanded. "Sit down and shut your mouths. I'm going to perform magic."

We were incredulous. Jeff had taken this Orson Welles thing way too far. "Hold this, Merv," he said. "Now behold as I wrap this rope around the cage."

My mind was reeling. I thought back to the funnies... Sunday morning's in Ohio... page two. The classic one panel page. I saw the familiar circle of art: Mom was in the middle of the kitchen. The sink was brimming with dirty dishes; the trash can was knocked over; the dog was begging for food; the baby was crying in his high chair; and the washing machine was rattling away as the other two kids ran in. I still recall the caption: "Mrs. Hagan's hobby is oil painting and Mrs. Ditzen's is golf! What's yours, Mommy?"

I sat back and enjoyed the rest of the magic show. You just can't question genius.

Amazing Time Travel Experience!

Folks, it feels like about 20 seconds and yet, somehow, a lifetime. Since our precious blog entry on September 20, 2007 -- what is now well over a year and nearly three months -- so much has changed.

Who would have guessed that a client would have called us on September 21, 2007 and told us to take the next flight to Switzerland to pursue a project that would change the very shape and course of not only our business, but our very lives -- and the lives of those who care to follow us.

And so it was that Little Dog and Big Dog put down their laptops, slipped their iPhones into their pockets and entered the security maze at LAX, that very evening. Red eyeing to Switzerland -- just like we were told -- as soon as possible.

This blog entry could take up more than a terabyte of space if we were to chronicle all the details.

What's important is that we looked at each other in disbelief when we disembarked the aircraft. Waiting for us at the gate was none other that Igor Volovich and Irina Aref'eva, our dear phenomenologists friends. And who dared to challenge their bold assertion did not notice they were more than qualified to make such claims. But let's not get bogged down in the blogosphere about endorsements. Let us focus on the exciting news!

The CERN's Large Hadron Collider has been tested, ladies and gentlemen! We were the guinea pigs, though you will not hear about this beyond this posting for reasons of international security. For now, Little Dog and I chortle at those who declare us mad -- who say we are hoaxsters. Okay, we're putting on a rouse. There. We said it. We did not go time traveling. Despite our compelling evidence we have in our possession.

For the record, we did not enter a traversable wormhole. We did not spend over one year of our lives traveling at will into the future and the future of the future. That never happened. Clearly, how could we have initiated time travel before time travel was possible? The fact that this news is just now becoming mainstreamed on the internet means absolutely nothing.

By the way, the winning lottery numbers for December 8th, Evening Daily 3 Draw in California, are 1, 3 and 5. Don't be a fool and check it out. If those ARE the right numbers (and they are) that isn't proof of anything, except that we're good guessers, right?

The facts are, PANGEA is now PANGAEA. And if you want to know what to do, you need only ask.

Lead in Toys

When I was growing up, there was lead in the paint on the walls which surrounded me in my house and in school. For jollies, we shot bent paperclips into the acoustic tile and practically ate the asbestos which fell from the ceiling. After school, us boys would ride our bikes home and run out onto the freeway construction zone and play among all the backhoes and heavy machines. It was great. It was paradise. When we got tired of playing in the dirty work area, we'd go back and play with our Major Matt Mason figures. We relished in the way things worked, so we would bend the limbs back and forth rapidly to get them to snap-off, exposing a hard and lethal wire frame -- a metal armature running through the Major kept him heroically stiff and action pliable. With good hard play, the Major would lose his paint detailing. Where that lead paint went I never knew. I know I did not put the Major in my mouth. Even then, I knew that was gay. Catholic school taught us well. Don't put Major Matt Mason in your mouth. Communion wafers okay; lead painted toys not okay. Why can't kids learn that today? Where have we failed? We have raised boys who are afraid to play on the freeway as it's being built. As I think back on when this trend of breeding little weenie boys started, it was shortly after society starting accepting promiscuous behavior -- when gay became okay (even in the military... G.I. Joey, love ya!). That's it. That's the revelation for the day: kids eat more lead paint today because we have taught them that being gay is okay. Sticking toys in your mouth -- how could that be bad if it's okay to stick -- well, you draw your own conclusions, as today's kids have. I suggest we let our kids explore the wilderness of youth -- it teaches them all kinds of subtle stuff and weeds the herd along the way. I remember being taught "caveat emptor" at an early age. Heck, I remember being able to buy caustic chemicals for my chemistry set at the local drugstore -- by myself! Now as an adult I can't even buy an antihistamine without having to go to the counter to ask the pharmacist. I say, let the lead toys in. China needs to reduce their cost of goods to give our market a fair price. If that means a few lead toys make it into the playroom, so what? A little lead never hurt anybody. Except maybe those kids that will later grow up and be gay.

You Can't Kill the Boogie Man or Rob Zombie

The latest atrocity in cinema is the announcement from rock star cum filmmaker, Rob Zombie, that he has secured financing from Miramax Films (once famous for producing quality indie films) to write and direct an all-new "Halloween" bloodfest feature. The allure this time out is that the movie will not be a sequel or prequel or remake of the original franchise of films. Instead, this flick will feature a whole new interpretation of the anti-hero Michael Myers, as imagined through the brainwaves of Rob Zombie himself. Ooo-ah!

Perhaps the most disturbing aspect of this development is that Rob Zombie noted that notorious killer, Michael Myers, over the years of sequels and licensing, stopped being a frightening figure in cinema because of saturation of the visage of the murderer. Evidently, once a Halloween mask was marketed to kids, allowing casual trick-or-treaters the opporuntity to pretend to be Michael Myers, the fear of him dissipated. Says Zombie: "...over the years, Michael Myers has become a friendly Halloween mask. When it came to the point where you could buy a Michael Myers doll that was cute-looking and press its stomach and play the 'Halloween' theme, you knew the scare factor was gone." Touché!


William Shatner or Michael Myers?!

The logic follows that the original "R" rated film suddenly became acceptable for children, since the masks were being worn by kiddies and the dolls diminished the menace of the murdering Myers. Call me old-fashioned, but the original film, though lovingly stylish and lacking in the type of blood flood depicted in more recent horror movies (like Zombie's "House of 1,000 Corpses"), is still a scary movie; indeed, it suggests violence kids should not be exposed to until their teen angst years. Why? Because I believe in preserving the innocence of a young mind, until it develops through the unfortunate and inevitable stimuli of life itself (like hearing about the Holocaust via history books or Mafia murders through a report on the "Today Show" -- curse you Katie Couric!)


You know, for kids!

Now, as far as mass exposure of masks eliminating our cultural fears... maybe there's a point here after all. Let's see: the same fear loss occured when Richard Nixon became a popular Halloween mask. Oh, and the unnatural fear I had of Pokémon was quieted several years back when ten kids appeared at my door, all donning the famous yellow mask of Pikachu. So maybe Zombie is onto something. But the, dare I say, very subtlety of John Carpenter's "Halloween" is why that film survives and has remained a cult classic. It insinuates and rarely over indulges in the excesses of the genre -- like graphic depictions of decapitations and severed limbs. Sure, there are penetrations of sharp things, gouging of eyes with hangers, shocking impalements and the like, but they are done, shall we say, lovingly... in tribute to the masters of the genre, like Hitchcock. It's often the scenes where an implication of violence occurs that remain the most terrifying. The mind has its way of filling in the horror.

We do not have to wonder if Zombie's version will allow the mind to explore its own fears and horrors. There will be no question -- when a victim gets killed by Michael Myers, it will be complete, resolute and flowing in blood. The dripping excesses of Zombie's filmmaking are mean-spirited, compared to the expressionistic manners of directors like Sam Peckinpah. Or the implied horror resident in Hitchcock films. Is there a place for Zombie's "Halloween" in today's world? Sure, the fringe underground. Thank you, Miramax, for raising the fringe underground, like a Zombie, to the surface and delivering bloodstains on over 1,000 screens nationwide.

Lil Kim's Incarceration

Remember when she was cuffed? That spunky poster punk of nearly nude hip hop kulture? Lil Kim learned -- or is learning -- the hard way that perjury and conspiracy are really illegal -- and it's all been documented in a reality show of her final days of freedom, "Lil Kim Goes to the Big House." Not that going to jail is a fun thang, but having a show made of your life right before you saunter into the slammer -- that's gotta be good for ratings, right? -- and then timed with the release of your new album... hmm... makes ya wonder if Lil Kim went to marketing school and studied Perjury 101 and Introduction to Conspiracy. Remember when going to prison was punishment?

For those of you wondering how she's doing -- or those anxious who can't wait for the reality show to air, here are a few words excerpted from Lil Kim's blog: "I want all my friends, family and fans to know that I am in good spirits and I will be fine. Contrary to the rumors, I am in general population at FDC and I have adjusted to the facility and to my fellow inmates who are all cool people. Each day, I read, sharpen my focus and grow. Of course, I wish I could be out to celebrate the release of my new album this week, The Naked Truth but instead, I am looking to take advantage of this time to work on my personal development. Thank you to all for your continued support."

And according to her attorney, L. Londell McMillan, she's done just that -- focused on her personal development. Barrister McMillan had this to say: "I was amazed at just how good Kim looked on my two visits to see her in prison last week. Even in a jumpsuit, Kim still has the style and swagger of a star. Kim respects her inmates and they respect her. She will turn this experience into a positive reality for herself as well as her fans and community. She is evolving into a remarkable person of faith and courage."

But thank God, she still knows how to lie. And she dares to take on rapper 50 Cent. For that alone, she should be championed for her courage. One must celebrate her spunky, silicone shape. Towering in well under 5 foot tall (her bro says she's 4' 9"), Kim is a figure larger than life itself. She's shown how to be in control and take charge, even behind bars (which coincidentally are the same letters used to spell 'bras'). Legions of fans must be proud -- must be figuring out a way themselves to use deception for a better glory.

Check in for more Courage and Faith updates by visiting Lil Kim's blog.

Resurrection and Racing

Lent has gripped us again, with its urgency for sacrifice in the form of meatless Fridays and an abstinence of your choosing. Sacrifice. It is a powerful word that perhaps defines the very essence and meaning of the glory of Easter. Even if you are not Christian, you can follow the pure simplicty of God sending His only Son to die for our sins -- to redeem us through His own death and Resurrection.


But how did we get from the Resurrection of the Lord to chocolate NASCARS?

Us PANGEALS get out often and we frequent the seasonal aisles at drugstores for jollies. It has been said that a man can learn a life's worth of knowledge by monitoring the seasonal aisles of drugstores. They are the closest thing to Heaven on Earth, because the merchandise is focused and intense. If it's a theme you want, then this is your best destination. The Easter theme has recently been pushed to its most extreme.

Historically during Easter, for decades, we have all seen the Easter aisle grow from simple candy eggs to the now legendary marshmallow Peeps -- and beyond. Paas anyone? Wax crayons? Wind-up bunny toys. Yeah, it's all been done and it's all there.

But when we all went off to live our lives beyond Lent, whilst we were all throwing Frisbees and preparing pumpkin pie and wrapping Christmas gifts, a marketeer slyly slipped in one of the most incongruous Easter items of all time -- the chocalate NASCAR. And it's not just one, but teams of chocolate NASCARS, in assorted scales and fillings. Really, what delight does a child of Easter have in rooting through his basket to discover Jeff Gordon's car is filled with nuggat? For a high octane Easter racing experience, perhaps a cherry cordial center should be added, in lieu of the transmission. Now, we've seen little cute carrot cars driven by bunnies -- they kind of make sense. But, a chocolate stock car wrapped in foil? What can that possibly mean? "It's the end of the world."



It's a simple question for a very simple season: how did we get from the Crucifixion and Resurrection of Jesus to chocolaty delight under the hood? Wasn't the Easter Bunny a stretch enough -- albeit a logical leap? Surely with the advent of NASCAR chocolate cars at Easter, we are witnessing the checkered flag End Times.

"Now entering the track from the pits, replacing driver Tony Stewart, in Car 666, Peter Cottontail!"

Next year, we're thinking a crucifix car launcher could be a big item with kids -- you know, so your chocolate NASCAR can make a lap before being consumed. For the real collector, the Jesus Eastertime Pit Crew Set is a must have. You're marshmallow tires can be changed by the Lord Himself. And the dark chocolate windshield? That gets cleaned by the Holy Ghost, of course, who Himself is made of a fluffy marzipan.

All of this new product must come with the obligatory warning on the package: Be careful you don't eat too much, because in three days, it will rise again. Amen.