Once you start down the dark path, forever will it dominate your destiny. Consume you, it will!

Huzzah, comrades! I’m here at the 38th annual San Diego Comic Convention, the smelliest largest comic book and popular arts convention in the entire world. ‘Tis a strange and wondrous place, brimming over with fascinating media, enthusiastic people, stimulating conversation, and entertaining outbursts from shut-ins with socially crippling personality disorders. Over the next few days, I’ll be sending you postcards from the proverbial edge. To start things off, here’s some free product placement for the new iPhone:

..is what I would say if this concept design for a fingernail timepiece were to actually make it into our daily lives. From the 2154: The Future of Time Design website:

TX54 is a disposable timepiece that is worn on the user’s thumbnail. While its translucency makes it blend seamlessly with the hand, a selection of text color options and a glow feature that activates on command make it easy to read.

Now, forget the finger. Wouldn’t you prefer to simply know the time, without having to think about it? On second thought, that might be a little maddening, especially for those as obsessed with the passage of time as your truly. In any case, here it is:

Sublimex is worn on the eye like a contact lens where it periodically flashes the time so quickly that the brain isn’t conscious of how it got the information. The user seems to simply know the time, raising a host of possibilities about how the nature of clockwatching would change.

But you see, we live in a time where designers make drooling lechers of us all. They flaunt their charts, mock-ups, concept art and shiny 3-D models without concrete promise of these ideas ever making it into our homes, laps, nails, etc. But I always come back for more, grateful to them for bringing this Future For The Home we dream of just a little closer.

[Thanks, Kris!]

Tesla’s got bedroom eyes.

Oh, my, yes! Happy belated birthday, dear Nikola. Your Coilhouse whelping day party continues with this booty-electrifying Musical Tesla Coil rendition of the Ghostbusters theme song, courtesy of Dr. Zeus. Nerd up.

The volume was already tattered by the time it made its way to me, passed almost reverently between the awkward 8th graders who usually spent most of their ride on the packed schoolbus (”Cattlecar 47″ we named it, after students started sitting on the floor) staring out the window.

The book was Tears of an Angel, the second volume of Battle Angel Alita, Viz graphics’ translation of Yukito Kishiro’s Gunnm.

This was 1996 and in our part of the world, at least, manga was all but unknown. Inside we found a world like nothing we’d seen. An oppressive city hung in the sky over a massive scrapyard where no birds (or anything else) could fly. Bodies were replaced constantly with rugged, mad machinery. Blood flowed like water. In the midst of it all, the characters tried, desperately, to carve out their own peace. We were enraptured.

Not all youthful inspirations stand the test of time. But re-reading “Alita” recently, with a James Cameron-directed (urgh) movie on the way, I was pleased to find that it did. Even today, few visions of a mechanistic dystopia are as relentless, ballsy and downright heartbreaking as this.

Call of the Wintermoon Lemon Curd Cookies. “These are best enjoyed while basking in the self-righteousness of your own obscurity.”

You know, there’s really nothing I enjoy more than banging my head to relentless black metal. Unless it’s making and consuming baked goods. Fucking A, dude, I love cookies. In some parallel universe, a far more brutal and satanic Mer than I is seated on an obsidian throne atop a baronial mountain built from the bones of her enemies, gorging on bottomless trays of red velvet cupcakes and snickerdoodles while truly epic tremolo-picked riffs reverberate through the charnel canyons. Occasionally she pauses to issue forth a soul-rending shriek. Dark chocolatey death spews from her corpse-painted mouth. HAIL.

Yet even this nightmarish Mer incarnation would grovel in terror before a certain gastronomical overlord known to worshipful initiates as All-Devouring Megan the Bae Korr. Megan currently resides in this world (in Oakland, California, no less! I must find her and become her minion!) and recently started a baking recipe blog called The Black Oven. It is kvlt as fuck. An excerpt:

Frostbitten Molasses Cookies Entombed with Ginger

Boiled down to its very essence, metal is nothing more than a mixture of molasses and alienation. By that definition, these cookies are black fucking metal. Packed full of grim and evil spices, they will leave you feeling despondent and isolated within their stronghold of flavor.

Make it:

1/2 cup butter
1/2 cup sugar
1/4 cup molasses
1/8 cup honey
1 egg yolk
1 cup crystallized ginger pieces
2 cups flour
1/2 tsp baking soda
1 tsp baking powder
pinch of salt
1 1/2 tblsp cinnamon
1 to 2 tsp ground ginger
1 tsp nutmeg

Preheat oven to 350 degrees
Cream together butter, sugar, molasses, and honey. Beat in egg yolk and ginger pieces.
Sift together flour baking soda, baking powder, salt and spices.
Add dry ingredients to wet ingredients in thirds.
Chill for an hour.
bake 8-10 minutes
DO NOT OVER BAKE. To do so would not be brutal.

Enjoy, and sacrifice one to Space Odin.

I’ve just made a batch of her “Where the Chocolate Beats Incessant” brownies. Doom never tasted more delicious. Megan, I raise my fist and my flour sifter to you!

Immortal, in the throes of a grim sugar rush.

From the great folks at Slave Labor Graphics comes the Map of Humanity. The brainchild of comics creator and artist James Turner, this wonderful piece just recently arrived in my mailbox and is proving to be all a good carto-fetishist could ever desire.

It’s all here: real cities rub shoulders with fantastic ones lumped in countries such as Beauty, Love, Realism, Hate, Abomination or Fool’s Paradise. If you want to pore over it in detail (warning: you will miss appointments, work and the outside world), do so here. On this map Chicago dwells in the lands of both Depravity and Industry, Dr. Doom’s Latveria borders Riyadh and Utopia is the waypoint between the continents of Wisdom and Reason.

There are a wealth of connections, allusions and little jokes strewn throughout, all - as the best things should - rewarding multiple ponderings. It’s also on ridiculously glorious-feeling super-paper too, for those out there that have that kind of fetish (such as certain editors of this publication who shall remain nameless).

Strange Maps: A completely unrelated site, save that it’s also addictive for cartofetishists

Allow me, for a moment, to indulge my inner 14 year old. Set aside any prejudice you might have against models and guns to revel in this glorious anime-inspired spread by Chinese photographer Chen Zhun.

It’s unclear whether these specimens are genetically modified or touched by Photoshop magic, but, between their sky-high legs [unofficial leg day on Coilhouse?], skin tight gear and hilarious action faces I just don’t care. While I’d avoid putting flames on the motorcycle and add more interesting hairstyles to the shoot, overall this is the sort of thing that fills me with unabashed glee.

And the clothes! The cast of Æon Flux would approve. As realistic as clear milk-filled breast domes and riding motorcycles in heels & underpants can be - thus appropriately animé. The translucent boots, beige leather and strange eggish backpack which I now must acquire are my favorite. Forge onward through the jump for more antelope women, helmets and latex.

Via drtenge.

Rory Root in his element, SD Comic Con 2004. Photo from geekspeak.org.

Devastating news for the comics community: Rory Root is gone. The driving force behind Comic Relief died earlier today following complications from a hernia operation. Rory’s “comic bookstore” in Berkeley, CA is arguably the most important sequential arts hub in the country, housing a gasp-inducing variety of zines, art books, manga, indie magazines, self-published strips, trade paperbacks, and underground comix in addition to more mainstream fare.

Rory was a tireless promoter of all things weird and wonderful. His pure, unclouded love for the medium proved highly contagious. Ask anyone who ever spoke to him for more than five minutes and they’ll likely tell you Rory was the most kind and giving businessman they’ve ever met. The man’s knowledge was vast and he had an uncanny ability to read people. Once he’d sussed you out, he could almost always intuit what undiscovered title you’d most enjoy. He was known to give free books to newbies at his store. “Just bring it back if you don’t like it.” With that enthusiasm and generosity, he won untold legions of longterm customers.

The Comic Relief bookstore in Berkeley, CA. Photo by Allan Ferguson.

He championed underdogs, queers and iconoclasts in his store and on the web, went out of his way to support artists and writers he believed in, acted as a kind of Yenta for kindred spirits in the biz, and campaigned fiercely to get graphic novels into public libraries. In 1993, San Diego Con-goers were delighted to see Rory and his store receive the very first Will Eisner Spirit of Comics Retailer Award. No one, no one deserved that honor more than he did. Quoting Carl Horn over on Warren’s post of Rory’s passing: “There’s no reason a comics store can’t be a successful part of the community and a progressive cultural force–I saw it work with Comic Relief.”

Encountering Rory in his element at Con or in his shop always put a smile on my face. Although I only knew him in that context, I’m having trouble keeping it together, so I can’t imagine what his loved one are feeling right now. My condolences to his friends and family.

I’m sure they’re a bit overwhelmed over there at the moment, but I can’t think of a better way to honor Rory’s passing than to browse Comic Relief online or in person at some point in the near future. There is so much obscure beauty in that store that spoke to Rory Root, and through him. Pick up something you’ve never heard of before that speaks to you.

EDIT (5/20/08): Comic Relief just updated their site: “If you would like to make a contribution to the cause that Rory kept very close to his heart, you can make a donation to The Comic Book Legal Defense Fund (CBLDF) in his name.”

I recall enjoying the ADD-inducing tunes of Australian vinyl sampler kings the Avalanches when their first record Since I Left You was released several years ago, but I’d never seen this stupefying video for “Frontier Psychiatrist” before tonight. I’m now having what can only be described as an “it’s comforting to know that no matter what you do in life, it will never be as awesome as this video” moment:

Whatever happened to the Avalanches’ follow-up album? Anyone know? According to their Wiki entry, the last word from the band came in early ‘07: “one day when you least expect it you’ll wake up and the sample fairy will have left it under your pillow.”

(Gracias, heRbIVoRe.)