by Robert Gillis 8/2010
[Click on any image to enlarge]

When it came to individual liberties (and the law in general) Silver Age comics could always be counted upon to dismiss such silly concepts as Miranda rights, due process, and fair protection under the law, not to mention all that bothersome and silly Bill of Rights nonsense. Here are two excellent examples of how the law really worked back in the Silver Age:

Adventure Comics 249, June, 1958: Clark’s wallet and ID have been stolen, and the sheriff grabs him because MAYBE he’s the sneak thief they’re looking for. Noble Clark doesn’t want the sheriff to phone his father because it would EMBARRASS Jonathan.
That’s damned noble. Go to jail so you don’t EMBARRASS your foster-father.

The sheriff, using sound legal precedent, arrests Clark as a vagrant because…wait for it… HE HAS NO MONEY.

No money = Obvious vagrant.

Yep, no possibility of a mistake in that logic.

That means most people in this economy… Are vagrants! Lock em up!

Hey, wait — the Silver Age Superboy can travel AT THE SPEED OF LIGHT. You’re telling me he can’t speed away so fast that the sheriff doesn’t even realize it? Clark could have caught up with the wallet thief as Superboy before the sheriff said “Johnny Doe.” But if Clark did that, the story would only be one page long, and we can’t have that, so, logic (as always) goes out the window….

…and the sheriff throws Clark into jail and gets him a prison uniform. Later in the story, during a ten second hearing, Clark is convicted of vagrancy and SENT TO PRISON. Of course, by the end of the story everything is back to normal. But ex-convict Clark would soon be up the river again!

From Adventure Comics 301, October, 1962. Lex Luthor, a teenager and already a career criminal, makes an unfounded accusation against Clark Kent – he alleges that Jonathan Kent (who is on the parole board and has never had so much as a parking ticket) is blackmailing Lex into revealing where he’s hidden his crime machines. The warden, who apparently doesn’t remember the 4702 times Lex has broken out of prison and done all sorts of horrible things, doesn’t just ignore Lex. He says he has no authority to detain Clark until the police act (that’s right) but.. (HOORAY! FATE TAKES A HAND!) …The bridge is washed out!

So Clark offers to stay as… wait for it… wait for it… A REGULAR INMATE. Are you kidding me? No, really, are you kidding me? The warden’s office doesn’t have a cot or something? Clark can’t bunk in the guard’s quarters? Nope — Honor student Clark Kent who has done nothing wrong, um, EVER, offers to help straighten out the whole mess by staying as an INMATE in a PRISON. Because everyone in prison is so nice to each other, like on “Oz.”

“Put Kent here through the regular routine,” the warden says. Clark, you SO don’t want to know what that entails. And then… wait for it… the ONLY cell available… is the one where Lex Luthor lives. Oh, yeah, this is getting more plausible all the time.

Sillyness aside, juveniles WERE unjustly accused and imprisoned back then, until the Gault Decision (1967) give them the same due process rights as adults under the 14th ammendment. Thank God some things HAVE changed!

By Robert Gillis

Published in the Foxboro Reporter and the Boston City Paper, 8/2010

All of us have cashier and store clerk horror stories and instances where “customer service” was anything but. We’ve all dealt with disinterested teen cashiers and surly seasonal clerks who chat with friends as they count our change. We’ve tolerated rude clerks and cashiers for whom social politeness is a nebulous concept. We’ve each faced people behind that counter who make it very clear they are not interested in us, or our business.

Good customer service is often very hard to find; many cashiers simply do not want to be at the job they are working, or are just not, shall we say, “People persons.”

Despite that, my experience has been that the customer is FAR from always being right, and that cashiers, store clerks, and anyone who works behind a counter (cashiers from this point forward for ease of reading) are often the victim in the transaction, and with that in mind, I’d like to propose the beginnings of a “Cashier’s Bill of Rights.” While hardly inclusive, I think it’s a good start.

Dear customers:

• You are not better than, or superior to, a cashier. So many customers, if they even bother to speak to the cashier, talk down to them like they are stupid, or beneath them. Someone working a register at McDonalds is often a hard-working individual who’s on their feet all day, and often at their second (or sometimes third) job.
• Customers, if you are talking on your cell phone while you are being waited on, the cashier should have the right to say, “I’ll be with you as soon as you finish your call. Next in line, please.” You expect a cashier to give you their full attention, return the courtesy.
• Stop throwing money at cashiers. Stop placing a fistful of change on the counter and expecting them to count it. Put the money in their hand, like they do for you.
• If you have a problem with a cashier, discuss it quietly. If you’re not getting anywhere (and that does happen), then ask to speak the manager. Be firm but polite. As soon as you start yelling and making a scene, you’ve lost the argument.
• Keep your cool. I saw a guy in a local store a year ago who was screaming – I mean screaming – at the cashier because she would not accept the many coupons that had expired — A YEAR BEFORE. The police were called because the guy got so crazy. Look, it’s one thing to ask a cashier for an exception to the policy, and we all have special requests, but don’t be an unreasonable jerk and make ridiculous demands. Cashiers rarely make corporate policy but must enforce it.
• Don’t be a jerk part one: I once saw a woman at Shaws yelling at the flower clerk because he could not fill a special order quickly. She kept threatening to go to his manager. When she left, I gave the kid my name and phone number and said if the woman made trouble I would speak to the manager and stand up for him – he had done everything right, and had been nothing but polite to the crazy flower lady. It would be unfair for him to get in trouble because a customer had a bad day.
• Stop getting angry because the cashier asks to see your ID when you buy cigarettes or beer, even if you look like you’re 90. It’s the law, it’s their job. And it’s a good law.
• Don’t yell at the cashier because your credit card was declined. Take it up with your bank. Likewise, the cashier doesn’t work for your doctor or insurance company. If your coverage is declined, don’t blame the cashier.
• Be reasonable when arriving at any business just before closing time. It’s one thing to need an emergency prescription, or medicine or baby food or something. It’s quite another to do a massive amount of shopping or needing a lengthy transaction five minutes before closing. Years ago it was two minutes to closing at the post office and I was buying stamps. The door opens and a man comes in to mail a large box. To Nigeria. The box isn’t even sealed. He hasn’t filled out any custom forms. And it’s now 60 seconds to closing. The clerk on duty took care of him and was very polite to him, but I left thinking how unfair it is for someone to do that. Look – there are valid reasons to patronize a business minutes before closing. But unless it’s important, let cashiers close up on time so they can get home to their families.
• Parents, control your children. Get off the cell phone and pay attention to little Jimmy and Sally running around amok, knocking items off the shelves and causing havoc. We all love children but they are NOT precious when they are trying to climb inside a soda cooler or throwing merchandise on the floor.
• Foxboro teens: Local businesses are NOT your playroom to mess up and cause havoc. Period.
• Parents, when the store manager tells your teenager to leave the store because he/she was caught shoplifting AGAIN, please don’t yell at the manager. Please speak with your child. Sternly. On that note, it boggles my mind that many store managers are not allowed to ban repeat shoplifters because “Corporate” doesn’t allow it.

Finally, a few years ago, I was the bad customer. Because my bank neglected to tell its customers that they’d lost over 10,000 records, they decided to ensure our security by confiscating ATM cards — without notice. I was one of the ten thousand. I was very abrupt with the supermarket bank cashier who told me she couldn’t help me – the ATM wasn’t even their bank (and not the one that lost all the records). But honestly, I was a jerk to her.

I felt so bad leaving the store – and five minutes later, I went back and apologized to her. “I’m not THAT guy, who comes in to make YOUR life hell,” I explained sheepishly. She was so nice about it. I felt really bad – but better after I apologized.

At Saint Anthony’s Church in Boston, there is a counter where people can buy mass cards and other items. A sign reads, “Christian courtesy is the rule here – on both sides of the glass.” That’s good advice!

Friends, the person behind the counter often works harder than you do. They are not your servant, you are not better than them, and their time is valuable too. Perhaps if you started treating them with a little more respect and courtesy, you would see a lot more of that good customer service you’re always complaining you never see anymore.

By Robert Gillis
Published in the Foxboro Reporter and the Boston City Paper, 7/2010

In my years of working in the great Metropolis of Boston, I have observed and experienced much, and I thought it might be useful (or at least illuminating) to provide you with his handy guide of things I can tell you about the Hub from an insider’s perspective. While hardly inclusive, it’s a nice start…

• First and most importantly, look both ways before crossing the street, ESPECIALLY on one-way streets. Wrong-way drivers are occasional, but wrong-way bikers are a given. Bikers are supposed to follow all traffic signs and laws. They don’t. Never forget that and you’ll stay out of the hospital.
• It may go without saying, but forget parking. I mean really, forget it. First, the lot prices just about require pre-approval at your local bank. Second, if you park at a meter, rest assured you WILL get a ticket the nanosecond your time runs out. Meter maids are more plentiful than pollen in spring and just as pleasant. Park in a tow zone? Your car WILL be towed. Park in a handicapped spot? Well, in that case, you’re a jerk, and I’m glad your car got towed.
• Don’t walk through Boston Common after dark. I mean, d’uh.
• Regarding the MBTA, the commuter rail is extremely efficient and doesn’t deserve most of the complaints I read about. My biggest complaint? The new automated robot voice system. Yeah, announcing stations and times is a job no one probably wanted to do, but nothing beat the eloquent gentleman named Manny at South Station announcing the schedules with, “Good morning all you beautiful people!,” and “Here we go, it’s Monday!” God love him.
• The Green Line is not as bad as people claim, but, “The Red Line had delays” is still an effective late-for-work excuse. Because it’s always true. Even as you’re reading this, there are delays on the Red Line.
• On another note, be nice to the tourists. Tourism is Boston’s number one industry. Personally, I like giving directions and telling people where to go. (Wait, that didn’t sound right). Let me tell you the first place I send them — the observation deck at the Prudential tower an hour before sunset. At only $11 it’s the best view of the city and you’ll get to see it day and night. The panorama will blow your mind. Also, even if you’ve lived in the city all your life, take a duck boat tour. They are wonderful, informative, humorous, and you learn so much about the city while traveling on land and sea (well, the Charles River)!
• If you work or live in the city, be sure to check out the tourist spots — they are a lot of fun.
• Post office square is a delightful place to have lunch, sit on the lawn, and enjoy trees, shade, and girls in their summer clothes. On a related note, we males have a rule ladies: If you dress like a street-walker, guys have a right to stare.
• On a more serious note, whenever you see anyone selling the Spare Change Newspaper, BUY a copy from them. This wonderful paper empowers the homeless and allows them to make money with some dignity. Remember that no one sleeps in a doorway in the winter by choice. Give them a few dollars. If you can, and if they are approachable, get to know some of them, or at least try to help them if you can. Some of the best conversations I have are with John D., a homeless man who sells Spare Change near South Station.  Don’t refuse to help the homeless because you believe they’ll only buy alcohol with the funds. For some of them sleeping on the streets, it’s their only comfort in life. Or do what I do — buy them a sandwich and coffee.
• On the other hand, there are scammers out there, so be observant. I’m always reminded of the supposedly homeless lady (with the same outrageous hat) who told me on THREE separate occasions (several months apart) the exact same sad story that her pocketbook was stolen and she needed money to get back to Worcester. Scammer.
• Speaking of sad stories, if the text reads, “A man was arrested last night for allegedly selling a class-B substance,” you’re reading the Globe. If the same story reads, “A gutless punk was busted for peddling smack and tossed in the clink,” you’re reading the Herald. That said, it’s good that we still have two newspapers in town. Perhaps one day at least one of them might go back to real reporting.
• Also, I recommend regularly reading the free magazines and papers that are available on most street corners. The Weekly Dig, Improper Bostonian, Stuff, and the Phoenix keep you up to date on Hub happenings and each offers a different (and often thought-provoking) perspective on city news. Skip the Metro. It’s all information from the web — yesterday’s information.
• Even though Filenes is gone, there’s still a lot to do in Downtown Crossing. The pushcarts sell a variety of food, and the excellence of several will surprise you. Just make sure they wear gloves and you should be OK. Also, be sure to give the local delis and sandwich shops a try. The owners and employees are generally friendly and the variety is excellent.
• Likewise, patronize the numerous fruit stands. I worked a summer at a fruit stand and can tell you that these folks work hard and the quality is great.

Boston is an exhilarating place, and we residents and worker bees tend to be blind to the incredible energy and variety the Hub offers. Don’t make that mistake. I encourage you to discover or re-discover our modern Athens. You may think you know Boston but trust me, she has a way of surprising you, so take the time and make the trip. And have a cannoli at Mike’s in the North End. They’re incredible.

by Robert Gillis 7/2010

What was so special about the silver age of comic books? Read about it HERE
(Click any image to enlarge)

Our understanding of the universe changes so rapidly these days that it’s no wonder back in the 1950s and 1960s, no one understood that a meteor was just a piece of space rock and that a comet was a merely a dirty snowball making a leisurely orbit around the sun.

Nope, back in the day, these ordinary space objects appeared over Smallville with the regularity of the daily mail, and always had UNPREDICTABLE MAGIC POWERS and could do ANYTHING! It was ALL KINDS OF AWESOME and still, somehow COMPLETELY SCIENTIFICALLY VALID, as the following classic panels will demonstrate:

 HYPNOSIS: From Action Comics #337: Baby Clark was hypnotized into repeating the “Rich man, poor man” rhyme, and compelled to act the roles out later as an adult when the comet reappeared. Thank God Clark wasn’t throwing a temper-tantrum or throwing food at the wall (which toddlers often do) when hypno-comet first affected him. 

 

GRANTING SUPER POWERS: From Adventure Comics #233: Like a cosmic genie, this meteor absorbed cosmic rays (which as I understand it, will kill most people in a few hours, which is why astronauts limit their exposure in space). Anyway, in this case, this guy gets super-powered by the magic meteor. Hey, by the way, if you THINK you’re invulnerable, perhaps you might want to test that theory with something less destructive than a BLOWTORCH? 

 

GRANTING SUPER POWERS PART DEUX: People in Smallville were constantly being affected by comets and meteors, and in this gem from Adventure Comics #273 once again an ordinary guy has gained super-powers, and once again, Superboy is on hand to explain his scientifically plausible theory that strange invisible rays from the meteor worked their magic, but in this case, ONLY on the guy who was under anesthesia. Yep, that makes PERFECT sense. Sigh. 

 

THE TALKING DOG: In a personal favorite from Adventure Comics #239, the weird glow of a meteor affects Krypto, Superboy’s flying dog, so that the canine’s vocal cords are affected in such a way that he can now speak perfect English. Alas, it’s only for 24 hours (like most meteor magic) but Krypto makes the most of it, first by having a conversation in airless space, which happened a lot back then.

 

CREATION OF LIFE (well, monsters): Finally, while acknowledging these panels are scenes within a story where a hastily made “quickie” movie is made, (it’s not what you think, you’re disgusting), in Adventure Comics #272 (one issue before another meteor gives a guy super-powers, see above) once again a comet crashes and a mysterious chemical in the comet magnetically assembles a monster made of junk. Because even in the Superboy universe, movie producers knew comets were magic!

 

Ah, the Silver Age!

By Robert Gillis
Published in the Foxboro Reporter and the Boston City Paper, 7/2010

There’s an old saying that one should never complain because half your audience isn’t listening and the other half is happy you’re getting what’s coming to you, so I’m not sure where you fine folks fit, but I hope perhaps you’re in the third category, “Wow, funny story, glad that wasn’t me!”

While this isn’t exactly the “How I spent my summer vacation” essay, there is certainly a need on my part to share, to vent, to sob uncontrollably while my therapist is out of town, and to be glad I’m back home and lament how much I need a vacation from my vacation.

So Sue and I are taking our first week of vacation away in over two years, up to a lovely area in Maine not far from where we were married years ago. We’re traveling economy class.

We’ve stayed at this particular place before; it’s a nice house in a beautiful area with all the comforts of home – a home of the 1950s, that is.

So anyway, after the six hour drive past Acadia into the part of Maine that is only one orbit away from the planet Neptune, we arrive at our beloved home away from home in the foggy harbor and immediately realize… No heat.

Not an issue around Foxboro, here in Humidity, Massachusetts, but most definitely necessary out by the Oort Cloud, Maine.

So we bundle up (as it’s 3am at this point) and sleep.

The next morning, Sue tells that the stove has no gas. I go outside and turn on the large tank and supply needed gas for morning coffee.

Buoyed by my repair skills, I decide to investigate the lack of heat. Being a computer geek, of course, allows me to comprehend HVAC, electrical systems and particle physics with ease, so in short order I realize that the furnace in the Spooky Cellar ™ is NOT going to rise to the occasion, mainly because the system is at least five years older than me.

“Could be the power,” I think to myself, and start flipping breakers. And welcome problem number two: The breakers won’t reset. I flip and switch and try repeatedly and the breakers insist they are ON, but they lie to me.

The wiring in the place is up to code, anyway (as long as you’re reading the 1970s electrical code guidelines)

So we have no electricity. Or heat. Or water, because, um, the electrical pump that powers the electrical thing that pumps the water is lacking… Electricity.

So no water, no shower, no dishwashing, oh my God no bathroom.

So at this point we’re calling the owner, who comes out right away and accompanies me to the cellar. She’s owned the place over twenty years, and points to a box next to the breaker box.

“What’s that one?” she asks.

“Oh, dear God,” I think to myself. “Um, I think that’s a timer for the heat?”

“Oh, that’s right, I had that put in last year, I think.”

We stare at the breaker box and furnace for a few minutes, but our combined concentration yields no results, so the landlady calls an electrician on the ROTARY phone in the house and within a brisk three hours he has arrived to… flip the breaker. Apparently he had the magic touch, or I am far too stupid to operate what is basically a light switch. He also mentions he hasn’t been out to the place in ten years. Good to know the upkeep has been carefully maintained.

He also fixes the furnace, although he didn’t reveal that secret to that bit of magic. I suspect it involved prayer.

So now we have all the features of a modern, post-World War One home, when we realize the water coming out of the faucet is rusty, strangely colored, and likely banned as a WMD by the UN.

Another call to the landlord on the rotary phones goes unanswered until the next day, but it’s not like humans need water for basic functions, or indeed, to survive, so her timely arrival the next day is not problem. At least the toilet now flushes.

The electrician is summoned again and reveals that the filters for the well water have not been changed in years (presumably since the Carter administration). That problem resolved, we now only have to deal with simple things, like the dead mice in the cellar (really), and the windows that only half open. And the doorknob that came off in my hand.

At this point I am having SERIOUS George Bailey flashbacks.

To be fair, once these problems were resolved, we had a lovely vacation that included trips to gorgeous Acadia National Park, stops for Sue’s beloved lobster at our favorite place, a whale watch, and shopping for goodies in Bar Harbor. Even with small funds, we had a nice time.

But my vacation gripe is with the place itself, and the owner in particular. This is a house that we’ve rented for the week four or five times over the last 12 years, and we always wondered why the rates were so reasonable. Now we know.

Look, I understand that being a landlord stinks – I speak from personal experience on that point – and I know it’s a drag to have to clean up and maintain a rental every week for tourists, many who don’t give damn about anything. But if you choose to do it, well, do it. Do the work. Or stop renting it.

Sue and I (and my family) always leave a place cleaner than we find it, and quite frankly, that week is the only one we’ll have to vacation away for at least another year. So while our week is just another rental for the landlord, it’s a special, once a year (or every two year) event for us. Our one chance for a vacation.

Look, things can and do go wrong in any vacation and every rental. That’s just life. But all of the issues we faced at the rental were avoidable if the owner had simply been more diligent about keeping the property up to date, and doing extremely basic maintenance.

Now, I don’t use this column as a bully pulpit, never have, and never will. So no names, or places, or even hints. That’s not my style.

We spoke to the owner personally, and while she apologized, she was noncommittal about future upkeep, as she has been trying to sell the place for a few years. We told her that if she has lost interest in the place, perhaps she should stop renting it out until she sells.

Vacations – especially in this day — are so very precious – and when a landlord just lets a place go so badly that another regular tenant left after one day and demanded their money back, and another also expressed great dissatisfaction with the upkeep, it’s really so very sad.

Sue and I will hopefully return to our beloved Acadia for another vacation next year, but will obviously seek other accommodations. We’re not wealthy and like most people, this is our one shot at a time away this summer.

So, thanks for letting me vent, and if you have vacation woes know you’re not alone.

By the way – and this is true, no joke — if you’re interested in buying the property, the owner is selling it:

For 1.2 million dollars.

I swear that is really the price.

I wish her good luck with that.

To everyone else, if you travel this summer, to quote a favorite movie, “May your journey be free of incident.”

Maybe next time, mine will be too!

by Robert Gillis 7/2010

What was so special about the silver age of comic books? Read about it HERE
(Click any image to enlarge)

Superboy was the lead feature in Adventure Comics in the mid-1950s, and each story usually featured him teaching a mean bully a lesson, getting kids to work together, organizing a community anti-litter club, or some other thinly disguised 1950s era PSA, all the while Lana Lang would follow him around saying, “I know you’re Clark Kent.”

Here are some classic, “epitome of the Silver Age,” Superboy panels from that era…

From Adventure Comics #195, 1953: …So Lana finds out that a super-hero boy from Mars (cleverly named “Mars Boy”) is on Earth and overhears Superboy use the lad’s real name (which I believe is “Klaatu barada nikto.”) Anyway, this is a year before J’onn J’onzz, the Martian Manhunter debuted, and back then, Mars was exactly like Earth, with people and cities and the Ice Capades and everything. Anyway, Lana approaches the EXTRATERRESTRIAL who has a DANGEROUS EXTRATERRESTRIAL CRIMINAL in custody IN A CAVE. She knows NOTHING about Martian culture, customs, laws, galactic politics, or the abilities of either Martian (or what weapons they might be carrying), but tells “Mars Boy” that unless he does her bidding (which will include making her a dress and picking flowers, I kid you not!), she’ll reveal his secret identity to the DANGEROUS EXTRATERRESTRIAL CRIMINAL. Who cares if “Mars Boy” has a family or friends that would be put in danger? Who cares if it would end his crime-fighting career or somehow compromise his life on Mars, or create an interplanetary incident? Nope, what’s important here is that Lana gets what she wants through felonious actions (blackmail/extortion). What I’d really like to see: “Mars Boy” uses his heat vision to vaporize Lana saying, “Sorry, on Mars, blackmail is punishable by death.” ZAP!

Next we have this gem from Adventure Comics #205:

Way to help keep a secret, Ma and Pa! Jonathan, Martha and Superboy, the only people on Earth who know Clark is Superboy, find another rocket on the Kent farm, (what, do they have a landing strip there or something?!) and there’s Martha, needlessly blurting out, “Why, it’s just like the last time — when Superboy came here from the planet Krypton!” to, again, the only people on Earth who already know the whole story. Then Pa chirps in helpfully with, “Yes — And we adopted him and named him Clark Kent!” Why are they saying this? Man, it’s not like this is the first time any of them are hearing the story. Who even talks like this? What I’d really like to see is Lana Lang poking her head out the next-door window and saying, “Ah-ha! I knew it!” No, strike that – what I’d REALLY like to see is Superboy look at his foster parents and say, “Who the hell are you talking to? We’re all here! Are you trying to blow my secret wide open or should we just take out an ad in the Daily Planet? Sheesh!”

Also, look at the final panel. Kral (who understands the Earth people because EVERYONE in the universe speaks English) says he is from Titan, a moon of Jupiter. Um, sorry dude, but Titan is a moon of SATURN, and Superboy knows this, because Saturn Girl, from the Legion of Super-Heroes, is from Titan and um, her name is SATURN girl. Look, I know we’re talking about a character that can fly and shoot fire from his eyes, but c’mon, this is Astronomy 101.

Here’s another cover where the Kents pull the same “scream out the secret identity” crap:

 

Our next yarn features a panel from Adventure Comics #204 that should never have got past the comic code authority (or the editors):

…So in this comic book, a teenage prankster yells at the police officer that he’s a killer and he’s throwing a bomb. But as Superboy races in to smother the weapon, ha, ha, it’s just a squishy pumpkin. Wow, you gave us all a good scare, you meany! “Aren’t you ashamed?” asked Superboy.   You’re telling me the cop doesn’t have enough to throw this kid’s ass in jail?  Please!

Now let’s look at this in a real world situation, shall we? If a kid did this today, a) he wouldn’t be arrested for threatening murder, b) nor would he stand trial for domestic terrorism or possessing a hoax device/WMD, c) nor would he go to prison. And why not? Because d) None of the above; the cop would whip out his service weapon and drop the little shit, and the only thing the Internal Affairs follow-up report would say would be, “Justifiable use of deadly force.” Today’s lesson: Don’t threaten anyone with fake weapons, kids. It can make you all sorts of dead. Man, what a stupid, stupid, stupid thing to publish in a comic book aimed at children. At least commercials today say, “Do not attempt.”

Finally, from the same issue, Clark responds to a SCREECH from Lana! Gosh, what terrible thing has happened to her?

Yes, here’s another example of the real-world unimaginable, horrific dilemmas teenagers of the mid-1950s faced. Korea? Nope? The Cold War? Nope. McCarthyism? Nope. Polio? Nope. It’s… {Wait for it} THE LABELS ON THE CANS CAME OFF AND LANA DOESN’T KNOW WHAT’S IN WHICH CAN. The horror, the horror. Oh, the humanity! How will she ever resolve this unsolvable crisis? Don’t cry, Lana! Hey, here’s a radical idea: Maybe she could OPEN THE DAMNED CANS!

This is kind of fun — there’s no prize involved, but I won the “Caption Contest” on the Superman Homepage in May and April 2010

Each month they post a silly Superman picture and invite readers to post humorous captions.

Fame and fortune sure to follow! (Read: I need a life) But check out the site; it’s excellent.

http://www.supermanhomepage.com

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August 2010 Winner:

robertgillis:
Superman: “Sorry, Clark, in the new JMS storyline, I won’t need you for a long time.”
Clark: “Why are you carrying me to this cliff?”
Superman: “No reason.”

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May 2010 Winner:

robertgillis:
We later find out this is Henry Perry White, Henry Lois Lane and Henry Martha Kent

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April 2010 Winner:

robertgillis:
My son… You do not remember me. I am Marlon Brando. I’m your father. By now I will have reached my 400th pound, as it is measured on Earth.

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December 2009 Winner:

robertgillis:

Dear Editor, I am 8 years old. Some of my little friends say there is no Superman. Papa says, “If you see it on the Superman Homepage it’s so.” Please tell me the truth, is there a Superman? — Virginia O’Hanlon

Click here for my runner-ups

I’ve been working on adding more images to GillisPhotos and  revamped the site, and have re-loaded the fireworks and Statue of Liberty images, a a lot of new Boston images.

Here is an image I took in Maine a few weeks ago that I am proud of:

See much more at GillisPhotos.com!

The best web hosting I have ever seen — I’ve hosted six sites with Lowest Hosting since 2002 and they are the quite simply the best. And their customer service is incredible. Click the yellow box to learn more or sign up.

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by Robert Gillis
Published in the Foxboro Reporter and Boston City Paper, 5/2010

Slow news day. Random thoughts.

When someone begins a sentence with, “No offense, but…” they are about to offend you.

Likewise, anyone who begins a sentence with, “I’m not prejudiced / I’m not a racist / I’m not a homophobe.” … They are / they are / and they are.

When you are in line at a store, and you are at the counter being waited on, get the hell off your cell phone. “Rude” and “Obnoxious” just don’t begin to cover this kind of behavior. Attention all cashiers – if somebody is at the counter on their cell phone, wave them aside and say, “Next please!” (Note: I’d pay real money to see that.)

The more they keep changing the money, the faker it looks.

A priest, a rabbi and a duck walk into a bar. Bartender says, “What is this, a joke?!”

Caffeine = Good.

Note to the Boston Herald: Can you please stop calling Bridget Moynahan, “Tom Brady’s baby momma?” Please?

Note to the Boston media: Whenever you take a poll regarding an election or an election issue, please only poll REGISTERED VOTERS. No other opinion is relevant.

Here’s a radical thought: Whether someone’s prom date is the same sex or the opposite sex is none of your business. Let the kids decide who they want to be with at the prom. Keep the courts and school administration out of it.

Something I’d love to see on Sesame Street: “Today’s episode is brought to you by the letter 2 and the number pi.”

Big Bang Theory is the funniest show to air on TV in many, many years. Someone asked me recently what character I identify most with. I’d have to say Raj – he’s brilliant, funny, kind, and very shy. And very humble, like me.

You now what we need more of? TV shows and commercials that show the husband and father as an incompetent, bumbling fool, and his know-it-all wife who constantly berates him in front of their children. Because God knows men don’t have self-esteem issues, don’t need role models, and that’s what guys are really like, anyway.

With apologies to “Futurama,” this column is brought to you by “Shankman’s Rubbing Compound”. “It costs a little more but it’s worth it!”

Hey teens and tweens! Did you know that M-TV used to play music videos all day and night? It’s true! M-TV stands for “Music television.” Look it up! Aw, forget it, you aren’t even reading this.

Speaking of old, does anyone say “Dungarees” anymore?

The expression, “Drop a dime,” is as meaningless to kids today as, “You sound like a broken record.”

Meep.

I ran the Boston Marathon for the first time this year and am very pleased with my time of 3:13.

The fact that I am writing this column should factor heavily into your evaluation of that last statement.

In Boston, when driving, you don’t “turn right,” you “bang a right,” and you don’t make a U-turn,” you, “bang a you-ee.”

The true measure of friendship is not having 600 friends on FaceBook, it’s having one good friend who will help you move.

A grasshopper walks into a bar. Bartender says, “That’s funny – we have a drink named after you!” Grasshopper says, “You have a drink named Helga Shimmel?”

“The time for thinking is over!” – Jason Stackhouse, True Blood.

Am I the only one who thinks that Ryan Seacrest is off his meds lately? Man, he’s been really mean to the American Idol contestants, and especially to poor Simon, who’s never said an unkind word to anyone, ever.

If the world does end on December 21, 2012, I, for one, will be just a little relieved.

Slow news day. Sigh.

by Robert Gillis
Published in the Foxboro Reporter, 5/2010

(Standard disclosure: I am not an employee of the Foxboro Reporter. Since 1996, I have been a column contributor, and hope to continue this happy relationship for many years to come)

Well, we made it.

The Foxboro town election is over, and as usual, the campaigns were exciting, controversial, and filled the Reporter and its companion web site with letters, editorials, and columns, as another election cycle splashed across these pages.

Regardless of its outcome, the recent election cycle and voter turnout proves yet again that residents DO care about Foxboro and town government.

While I will not comment on any of the words that have appeared in the Reporter, there is no denying that the writers believed what they wrote, and were passionate about getting that particular opinion out. I respect whenever people write into a local paper.

For a while, the passionate discussion of town affairs extended to the ability to comment anonymously on the Reporter’s web site. But unfortunately, insightful, interesting discussion and debate was often (read: always) sabotaged by a select few who resorted to name calling, accusation, and page-long screeds and streams of consciousness that seemed to be nothing more than a childish rant, bereft of even a breadcrumb of fact.

Because of this, I applauded the Foxboro Reporter’s decision to remove its comments section from its web site. But the removal of the comment ability HAS reduced the local dialogue, and that’s why I write these words today.

The election is over, and if history repeats itself, the letters to the editor will dry up to a few each week. But the things that matter to this town are not limited to expression during a few short weeks a year.

There are 17,000 of us in Foxboro and a huge percentage of that number are adults who pay taxes and vote. Surely there are things you want to say. Do you have an opinion about your child’s school? The sewer system? Route One expansion? Taxes? Town policy about some matter? Trash stickers? Use of town resources? Town management? Anything to do with Foxboro issues? Did you watch a meeting and something bothered or impressed you? Did you witness something in town you want to share? Is there something you feel passionately about?

Then make yourself heard. Write a letter to the editor.

I would love to see the Reporter filled with guest columns, letters, and opinion pieces by YOU.

Let’s see a continuing real dialogue – whatever your opinion – here on these pages. Write your words, sign your name, and send it in.

It’s easy to give oneself an alias and trash talk all over a blog. But to sign your name to a letter and send it in for all to see, that takes character.

Speak up — Real change is made when many opinions are offered. Real dialogue is possible when many voices are heard. THAT contributes to real progress.

The oath of office for one of our local fraternal organizations includes this line: “…you are charged with governing this organization according to the laws of democracy, under which every person who wishes to speak shall be heard, toward the end that in every matter considered, the best opinion shall prevail through the expressed will of the majority, and the best course of action followed.”

Everyone has a right to be heard, to make their opinion known, to contribute to the discussion, so the best decision can be made.

Be part of the solution. Write your letter today. We look forward to reading it, and discussing it.

by Robert Gillis 5/2010

What was so special about the silver age of comic books? Read about it HERE

(Click any image to enlarge)

Here’s a gem from a Superboy story from Superboy #106, dated 1963, called, “The Lair of Brainiac!” Our story so far: Baby Superman (Kal-El to you Marvel readers) has been kidnapped from Krypton before it exploded, and Brainiac and his goons take baby to their home solar system with its yellow sun, and of course, Kal-El gains superpowers and all hell breaks loose.

In panel 1, Brainiac (Thank you, Basil Exposition) explains why Kal-El has super powers and compares their own yellow sun as being IDENTICAL to the planet Earth, so Kal-El says, “Me look for Earth,” and casually looks up, across intergalactic space, and not only looks in the exactly correct direction (out of 360 degress x 360 degrees) and not only finds the right galaxy, the right quadrant, the right solar system, the right planet, but Earth just happens to be facing in the right direction so that the baby sees freaking SMALLVILLE, Kansas, just as Jonathan Kent is bowling! Because, yeah, the universe is a small place and the odds that the kid would look in the right direction are, oh, I don’t know, a gazillion billion million zillion infinity to one, but this was the silver age.

And just in case he’s unsure, one of the THREE members on the team says to the other guy, “Jonathan Kent is one of the best players on our team!” Are they being introduced or something?

To make this even stupider, when Superboy tells Ma and Pa Kent about seeing Pa Kent bowling before he even came to Earth, the Kents don’t say, “Holy spit! That’s preposterous!” They don’t say, “The odds against that would make even the most reckless gambler cringe!” Nor do they say, “That’s pretty hard to believe, considering how big the universe is, and how many unlikely events would have to line up exactly right for that to happen.” Nope, they just shrug it off as something that happens every day, and say, “Let’s see what happened next.”

See, this is what happens in the silver age: The preposterous became so commonplace that people didn’t even notice.

Next up is Superboy #80, 1960: Supergirl has traveled back in time to meet her cousin Superman when he was Superboy and be his playmate (it’s nowhere near as dirty as it sounds) and they play tag, race around the galaxy, and stop a robot invasion of Earth in four panels (really) but later, Supergirl realizes…

…That Future Superman is a dipshit. And his younger self seems to agree. Future Superman wouldn’t be mad that Supergirl is screwing with the space-time continuum, possibly changing history, nope, he’d be furious because a) IF Superman was delirious B) PERHAPS from Kryptonite fever, he MIGHT ACCIDENTALLY reveal a Supergirl is coming to Earth… um, sometime in the future…

Just, wow.

Plus, I’d pay real money if in panel two Superboy said, “Superman will exile you from Earth permanently? Wow, I grow up to be a real tool!”

And from Adventures Comics #384: Superman: “If it happens again, I may have to demand you turn in your uniform and…” {emphasis mine} “… LOCK YOU UP IN THE FORTRESS FOR YOUR OWN SAFETY!”

Once again, Superman = Complete TOOL.

God, I loved the silver age of comics!