Make Mine Mickey!

Even if you're not an avid comic book reader, you probably heard mention of the big comic book news this week: The Walt Disney Corporation announced it had reached a deal to purchase Marvel Entertainment, the publisher and owner of such characters as Spider-Man, Hulk, Iron Man and the X-Men. As the Gentleman who writers most often about comics, a reaction to this news seems appropriate.


My initial response when hearing the news was "wow!" followed by "hmm...". From a simple "changing the dynamic of the industry" perspective, the acquisition of the most profitable comic book company (I'll leave it to the comments to argue Marvel's current creative merits relative to the other comic book publishers) is the biggest thing to happen to comic books this decade (and possibly the biggest thing since Marvel's superstar artists left the company to form Image Comics in 1992). What impact the acquisition of Marvel by Disney will have on the comic books themselves, however, remains to be seen. Most likely, it will be minimal.

While it's easy to crack jokes about the upcoming Disneyfication of Marvel (Hannah Montana joins the Avengers! Mickey Mouse vs. Wolverine! The X-Men star in High School Music 5! ), Disney, in fact, has a history of remaining fairly hands-off with the properties it acquires, and it doesn't require all of its creative entities to put forth 100% family-friendly fare. Pixar has famously been left to its own devices since it's acquisition by Disney, turning out some of its best films in that time. Miramax, the film studio which, amongst other things, releases most of Quentin Tarantino's films, is also owned by Disney.


So the notion of Disney stepping in and making content changes to Marvel Comics seems unlikely to me (though if they want to step in and reverse that asinine "Spider-Man sells his marriage to the devil!" storyline, I'm all for it). Most industry insiders are speculating that what Disney is really after is Marvel's characters and the licensing money that goes along with them. For years now, the monthly comic book has merely been a loss-leader for the eventual trade paperback or graphic novel collection, and those books are merely a way to keep Marvel's stable of core characters viable while they make the big money turning those characters into summer blockbusters and slapping their images on backpacks and bedsheets. That's the money Disney is after via this purchase, and in all likelihood, that's the area where their hand will be felt the most, multimedia and licensing development (and Disney, as we all know, is a pro at that kind of stuff).


The fact is, from a corporate, bottom-line perspective, comic books have been a minor part of Marvel Comics business model for some time, and there's no indication that'll change now that they're a part of the Disney family. I read online this week (and we all know the Internet never gets anything wrong) that in one year Disney makes more money selling those ice cream bars shaped like Mickey Mouse in Disneyworld than Marvel makes selling their comic books. So the idea that Disney would even spend the time to step in and dictate content to something flying so far under their corporate radar seems unlikely. As long as Marvel doesn't do anything to draw too much negative attention to the characters Disney is trying to license, they'll be fine. And it isn't like Marvel wanted to draw negative attention to its characters before this deal.


The place where the impact of this deal will be felt the most will be multimedia projects and licensing. Disney has publicly stated in the wake of this deal that they were attracted to Marvel's stable of "over 5000 characters" (it should be noted, however, that not all of those 5000 are winners; for every Spider-Man, Wolverine and Hulk there's an Armadillo, Typeface or Ruby Red). Expect more cartoons and animated films and, perhaps, even more Marvel live action films. Marvel currently has a distribution deal with Paramount for the films made within their studio and Disney has said they will honor that agreement, but once it expires, expect Disney to put the full weight of their film brand on Marvel movies. Pixar has already made the best Fantastic Four film with "The Incredibles"; perhaps they'll take a crack at an established Marvel character, or team up with some of Marvel's creators to create something new. Expect to see even more t-shirts, toys, games, lunchboxes and other merchandise adorned with Marvel characters than ever before. Essentially, as this article explains, Disney is basically using the acquisition of Marvel to reinvigorate its appeal and presence within the family and summer blockbuster markets.

The one place within the realm of comic books this deal might be felt most keenly is in distribution. As it stands, comic book distribution to retail stores is monopolized by Diamond Comics Distributors, a situation that invokes ire amongst many comic book fans, especially independent creators and retailers. Disney, with its much broader book distribution that reaches many places outside of comic book shops, could possibly shatter this monopoly should it offer its distribution infrastructure to Marvel Comics. It's also possible that now, with a share of a larger corporation's bottom line, that Marvel will be able to afford to keep lower selling titles around longer, much as DC Comics is able to do thanks to its ownership by Time Warner.


Despite some of the cracks, teeth-gnashing and knee-jerk reactions that can be found throughout the Internet in the wake of this news, this deal will have little impact within the realm of Marvel's comics. In all likelihood, the Marvel/Disney relationship will closely mirror the Time Warner/DC relationship, and that relationship, in place now since the 70s, hasn't destroyed Batman or Superman. Aside from a new well from which fans can draw jokes, increased marketability, new multimedia projects and, possibly, a change in comic book distribution, the merging of the House of Ideas and the House of the Mouse will simply result in business as usual for Spider-man and the gang.

A Few Thoughts on the Writer's Strike

You know what really grinds my gears? The Writer's Strike. As most everyone probably knows by now, the Writers Guild of America went on strike last weekend. Although it’s been widely discussed all over the blogosphere, here’s my take on it. No one ever said originality was a hallmark of the Gentlemen of Leisure…

Near as I can tell, the sticking point between the writers and the producers is how much of the profits of DVD sales the writers get, and some issues regarding compensation for “new media” (internet and cell phone downloads, crazy futuristic holographic downloads or other such things that haven’t been invented yet). Last I heard the dispute over DVD sales amounted to this: the writers currently get $.04 for every DVD over $20.00 sold. That’s right, 4 cents. They would like to double that, to $.08. This is apparently too much for the producers to part with. At a negotiation session before the strike, the writers agreed to drop this requirement in an effort to avoid the strike, and focus solely on the new media revenue. The producers still have yet to budge.

Obviously I’m biased in favor of the writers. I am a writer, and hope someday to actually get paid to do it. So of course, I am inclined to sympathize with them. But I try to stay open minded about it: I’m not witnessing the negotiations, I only know what I know through the media's filters (granted, most major media outlets are controlled by the people fighting against the writers, so if anything, I should be biased against the writers).

And I’m not some crazy pro-Union firebrand, either. I’m fairly neutral on the subject; unions can be good, and they can be bad. They do some good work, and were certainly necessary a hundred years ago when rich people looked like the guy on the Monopoly game and Teddy Roosevelt was busting trusts with his big stick. But they can also be corrupt, laborious (pun intended) and paralyzed by the weight of their bureaucracy, more concerned with their well being than that of the people they represent.



But the fact remains: the writers demands seem more than fair. According to the information available to me, in this instance, the writers are the good guys, fighting a valiant struggle against their evil fatcat masters. Granted, I don’t know anything about the specific new media demands, but I’m pretty sure that at least meeting the writers halfway will cost less than what the industry is poised to lose if the strike continues.

Of course, another factor in this whole debacle is that the actors (SAG) and directors (DGA) are poised to renegotiate their contracts later this year and the prevailing thought is that the producers are playing hardball with the writers to show the actors and directors (who, of course, are far more important than writers…) what they can and can’t get away with when they come to the bargaining table. If the producers cave to the writers now, then it’ll be that much easier for the actors and directors to get the same kinds of terms. So it sounds more and more likely that the strike will continue on for awhile yet, simply so the producers can show everyone how tough and powerful they are.

Then again, the last strike in 1988 went on for 22 weeks and cost the industry an estimated 500 million in lost revenue (and helped bring about that wretched finale to the second season of Star Trek: The Next Generation, largely considered the worst season finale in the history of existence). In 2007 numbers, that amount would be significantly larger, and the industry today, including DVDs and whatnot, is a juggernaut compared to what it was 1988. So the longer this strike goes, the more money everyone, especially the producers, are poised to lose. And the last thing anyone wants is that (or another episode of Riker flashing back to important events in his life which, coincidentally, all took place during the first two seasons). So maybe the producers will come to their senses ad wrap this thing up early.

In the meantime, what does all this mean to you, Mr. and Mrs. John Q. Couch-Potato? Well, the late night/comedy news shows are already in reruns; I’m sure you’ve noticed Jon Stewart suddenly talking about less than topical news items. Those kinds of shows are written and produced on a daily basis, so without writers they can’t do much. Next to go will be the soap operas; they generally work a few weeks ahead but not much more. Then the sitcoms (I heard today that several sitcoms like The Office already halted production) and dramas, your CSIs and Law and Orders, which should have enough new episodes in the can or scripted to last at least through November sweeps and into December, when they’d be going on hiatus until after the new year anyway. But if the strike lasts, chances are they won’t come back from hiatus. Heroes has allegedly filmed an alternate ending to their December 3rd episode that they can tack on so the episode seems more like a season finale, in the event the show doesn’t return.

Looking further into the future, some yet-to-premiere shows may or may not air. 22 weeks (the length of the last strike) puts this one running until sometime around the beginning of April. The word is that Lost has anywhere from 8 to 14 of its 16 episode season completed (or at least past the point of needing the writers) so presumably, they’ll be back on the air in February as planned. Then again, there is some talk that in the event of a prolonged strike, they may put the kibosh on the whole season, not wanting to risk starting and then stopping after eight new episodes when the strike still hasn’t ceased, meaning we won’t get any new Lost episodes until February of 2009! (Seriously, if this strike cancels Lost, we will have words, producers. We. Will. Have.Words.) 24, which was delayed by a variety of factors, has only 6-8 episodes in the can, and it sound like they’ll pull the season rather than run the risk of airing eight episodes and stopping mid-story. Mid-season replacement shows, like The Sarah Conner Chronicles, should air in their entirety, as they’re done and in the can. Of course, many mid-season replacements suck and get yanked accordingly, but it’ll be hard to get the ax when you’re the only scripted shows around.

There may be no award ceremony for the Oscars this year (someone has to write the jokes for the host, and the stuff the presenters read off the teleprompter) and if the strike lasts long enough, even the film industry could be affected (because films operate even farther in advance than scripted TV, it’ll be awhile before they run out of scripts, but it could happen).

But if you’re a reality TV fan, boy, are you in luck. The reality TV writers (yes, they have writers too) are not part of the WGA so prepare yourself for an even greater onslaught of reality TV. CBS is prepping a post-hiatus launch for Big Brother, and rumor has it NBC may pull some shows from their cable networks and air reruns of shows like Top Chef and Project Runway to fill airtime. And of course, I’m sure American Idol will be back and really, isn’t that all America cares about anyway?

The more I read and hear about this strike, the more it seems the writers are in the right and the producers in the wrong. Bottom line, the writers are hard working and generally under-appreciated; I don’t think there is anything wrong with their wanting some share of the revenue their product helps generate. After all, without the creative talent the producers would have no product to make any money on. From what I’ve read, a lot of the writers aren’t even striking for themselves, but for future writers, so that twenty years from now those writers won't have to go on strike to a get quatloo for every TV show we purchase and download directly into our brains. To me, that’s perfectly fair and reasonable.





It seems like the producers are quibbling over pennies on the dollar while poised to lose millions, maybe even billions, as the industry grinds to a halt, all so they can save face and look like a Big Man. Seems asinine to me. In the meantime, the writers don’t have jobs and we’re left with nothing but crappy reality TV to watch. And that really grinds my gears.

Shinders: R.I.P

The last remaining Shinders stores closed about a month ago, victims of financial mismanagement on the part of their inept, gun-toting, meth-making owner. Quite unexpectedly, I finds himself saddened a bit by this. Shinders opened the doors to a lot of the things that I love now, and in its way, helped cultivate a lot of the interests that make me a Gentleman of Leisure today. Come, let’s take a trip down memory lane, shall we? Behold, the origin of Teebore’s love of comic books!

Shinders was a local chain of stores that sold newspapers and magazines, sports cards and memorabilia, cigars and tobacco, candy and pop, comic books and action figures, role playing games and books, used DVDs and VHS tapes, and porn. A store for Gentlemen of Leisure, you might say (in fact, about the only interest of mine they didn’t cater to in some form was music). They were known, I would argue, principally for their newsstand, one of the few places in town one could regularly buy newspapers and magazines from around the country and even the world, and for their porn: each store contained a carefully walled off, secluded area with swinging doors through which would pass everyone from ratty men in camouflage jackets with greasy hair sticking out from under a faded ball cap and yellow teeth to younger, well manicured professionals in bold suits with expressive ties and shiny shoes. All emerged, clutching their wares, with a bewildered look of “how did I get in there?” on their faces.

The chain began as a news and tobacco stand in Minneapolis at the corner of 8th and Hennepin in 1916, owned and operated by immigrant brothers from Russia. Their venture was met with success and eventually they opened a brick and mortar store. In the early 80s they scattered stores throughout the metro area, numbering a dozen-and-half or so before their untimely demise. The entire operation has always remained within the Shinders family; I believe even the recent wanker of an owner was a distant cousin of the main family.

Shinders was the first place from which I regularly bought comics. As a kid, I collected baseball cards. When I moved back to Minnesota from Wisconsin, I sought out sports card stores to provide my baseball card fix. Which led me to Shinders, where I could buy packs, single cards and display pages that fit into three ring binders. I stared up at the social misfits behind the counter, their numerous tattoos, grisly beards and ragged smiles setting them apart from other adults I encountered. They were living a dream, being around all that awesome stuff each day, and I dreamt of turning sixteen and joining their ranks.

Then a kid in one of my classes introduced me to something new: cards featuring comic book characters (I didn’t know it at the time, but they were from Skybox’s 2nd series of Marvel trading cards). I had read a few comic books, here and there, and was certainly familiar with the concepts and characters that entered the pop culture zeitgeist: I watched the Adam West Batman show, and Spider-Man and His Amazing Friends on Saturday mornings (always thought Firestar was pretty hot...), and rented videos of the old 60’s Marvel cartoons with the catchy theme songs (“Spider-Man, Spider-Man, does whatever a spider can…”). I had a few of Toy Biz’s then recent Marvel action figures and several of the awesome DC Super Powers toys from Kenner. And before I could read for myself, I had forced my parents to laboriously read the Super Powers Dictionary to me, featuring characters like Flash and Superman defining words. So I was familiar with the world of comic books, at least the broad strokes of the Marvel and DC universes, when this nerdy fifth grader presented to me baseball cards featuring super heroes instead of ball players.
So the next time I was in Shinders, I picked up a pack of those cards along with my baseball cards. And that’s the way it went for awhile, comic book cards collected alongside baseball cards. But aside from the main characters, I didn’t really know a lot of the other characters featured on the cards (“Nebula? Who’s Nebula?” “Thanos’ granddaughter,” says the card back. “Oh, okay. Who the hell is Thanos?” This was, of course, long before I became Thanos' official biographer). These new cards certainly had more to read on their backs then the standard stat lines of baseball cards, but still, I thirsted for more. So I began to seek out their source material: comic books.And so it was, thanks to Shinders, all I had to do was wander over to that part of the store and there were the comics. I started with the X-Men, for some reason (to this day I don’t know why-maybe that Pryde of the X-Men pilot episode really stuck with me), picking up X-Men 8 and Uncanny X-men 289 from the Shinders in Edina and reading them as my parents walked through the Galleria Mall. Being X-Men comics of the mid nineties and thus mired in continuity, I had no clue what the hell was going on, but recognized a few characters from my cards, and as with the cards, I only thirsted for more.

I bought new issues, and back issues when there were no new issues, searching in particular for the ‘first appearances’ helpfully listed on the backs of the cards, filling in my knowledge of the characters and stories along the way. I gazed longing at the comics Shinders placed on the wall, above the new comic racks, out my reach physically and financially. Eventually I discovered the Local Comic Shop in my area, a dingy, cramped hole in the wall that still remains the best comic shop I’ve ever been to (but that’s another post), and I purchased some comics there, as well. But Shinders was always the first stop, because I could get everything there.

Eventually, the X-Men led me to the Avengers, which introduced me to the greater Marvel Universe, which led me to the DC Universe, and eventually I was buying more and more comics, going to comic conventions for the first time and filling in all the back stories I could. Before I knew it, my main interest had become comic books, and while my interest in them increased, my cash flow hadn’t. Over time, the decision to buy more baseball cards or more comic books always came down on the side of comic books and within a few years, I had left my baseball card collecting days behind me.

I still collected those super hero cards as well comic books, and still I went to Shinders. But time passed, and I got older. Shinders began to lose some of its glamour. Older eyes saw the skeevyness and disorder that consistently led my mother to wait in the car while I quickly shopped. My nose, drawing ever nearer to adulthood, recognized that unique smell of Shinders (the smell of the hunt, to young Teebore) as the smell of mold and mildew. The carpet seemed to fade, the bargains on back issues paled in comparison to what I found at conventions, and the glow around the employees dimmed; they were rude and uncouth, and some seemed to not so much be living a dream as hiding from one. By the time my entire budget was being spent exclusively on comic books, I ceased frequenting Shinders, making almost all of my comic purchases at a new, clean, well lit comic shop that pulled all my desired comics for me, and at the conventions at which I now volunteered to work.

But I always made a point to go back to Shinders, every few weeks. Mainly to get supplies for my collection (comic bags, boards and boxes were always 2 or 3 bucks cheaper at Shinders for some reason, and they carried plastic display cases for beanie babies and footballs that made great action figure and bust cases) and to check out their special markdowns, but also because, well, it was Shinders. I had been going there as long as I’ve lived here, and there was familiarity and comfort there still, amongst the rude employees, pokemon-crazed kids, and the guys buying porn (my one regret about Shinders is that I never took the opportunity to go into that fabled “back room” By the time I was old enough, I figured, “why buy what the internet provided so readily for free?” Still, now I feel like I missed out on a positively unique experience).

Within the last few years, Shinders did a lot to improve itself. The new owner set new standards for the company: the employees learned a little customer service, the stores cleaned themselves up and increased their selection. They began hosting Magic and RPG tournaments and reached out to the local comic book community, becoming more involved in conventions. And then the owner was pulled over and the cops found his van stuffed full of automatic assault weapons, ecstasy, and homemade meth. Several indictments, fines and legal fees later, and the bank was looking to foreclose, as he had defaulted on the loan he had taken out to buy the company. The City of Minneapolis stepped in, citing Shinders' status as a historical presence downtown, and made arrangements with the bank for the loan to be paid back directly from the store’s profits. Several locations shut down to conserve costs.

Of course, in time, this arrangement combined with the owner’s other financial woes and seeming inability to run a business while gunrunning, caused Shinders to miss payments to its distributors, which led to a lack of product making it to the stores. I heard at some stores they weren’t even getting the local papers anymore. So of course, this cut into their profits, which then angered the bank, and so by the end of July employees coming in to work were told they could no longer be paid and all the remaining locations shut down.

At the point they closed my regular visits to Shinders for bags, boards and boxes had dwindled to once every six weeks, and stopped altogether when they could no longer get those products into the store. But I never really thought Shinders would go away entirely, and eventually they’d get back on their feet. And if they didn’t, ah well. I rarely went there anymore anyway.

Now they are gone, and while I don’t exactly miss them (though I am having a dickens of time finding a short box at a comic store in town) I find myself a little sad at their absence. Shinders was a local institution and an institution to me, as well. Shinders, either directly or indirectly, led me to a lot of what I love today. I remember fondly the way my pulse would quicken as I neared the store, feet echoing off the cobblestones outside, thoughts swirling with desire at what I would find this day to blow my allowance on. Shinders was a gateway to a lot of things-a moldy, unseemly, ill-managed gateway at times, but a gateway nonetheless. I’m saddened when I wonder where today’s ten year old could now go to buy baseball cards, and along the way be introduced to whole new worlds.