QUICK REVIEW: CRACKED magazine

CRACKED magazine may have a history dating back to 1958, but let's not kid ourselves here: it was always the lamer, tamer cousin of MAD magazine.
Having said that, growing up I read more issues of CRACKED than I did of MAD, mainly 'cos it was easier to get my hands on the former due to the bizarre distribution system of comics and mags in Australian newsagencies during the 1970s.
There was no comparison between the two once I did get my hands on MAD - CRACKED was a pale imitation...it just wasn't as funny as MAD.
Well, CRACKED has hung in the marketplace and had its ups and downs since 1958 - including woeful sales for most of the 2000s - but it's finally making a comeback.
A new web site (www.cracked.com) was launched last October and it was a big departure from what CRACKED used to be. For starters, it was funny. Secondly, it owed more to humour sites such as The Chaser and The Onion, than to the heavily comics-based CRACKED of the past.
Now, nearly a year later, a hard-copy version has landed on the shelves and it's nothing like the old comic either. In fact, it's more of a cross between National Lampoon and lad mags such as Maxim and Ralph.
Guess what? I like it. Not love it, but it wasn't bad for a first effort. A little TOO American in its humour, but I could understand most of the references. Not everything works - the ESPN mag parody meant nothing to me as I've never read it (I don't think it's even sold in Australia) and I rarely watch ESPN except for the poker tourneys, so I don't know any of the personalities.
But there are some highlights in this debut issue.
The fake Busanity ad with Gary Busey's deranged mug staring at me ("Somewhere between love and madness lies...Busanity") made me smile. So did the piece where CRACKED tried to broker getting some oblivious Civil War re-enactors to enlist to fight in Iraq.
The very funny Jay Pinkerton wrote a whacked-out piece on trying to buy a kid in Mexico ("300 pesos for one child is a really good deal").
The 2006 Douchebag Comprehensive Guide took tons of cheap shots at The Hoff and Tom Cruise, but they're both douches so they deserve everything they get.
I actually spent way too much time studying the poster ("The Periodic Table Of The 1980s"). And there was some real (and real entertaining) interviews with Rob Corddry and Ed Helms (The Daily Show) and South Park's Trey Parker and Matt Stone (even if they have been interviewed to death over the years).
There was even a few comic strips, just like in the old days.
This sure as hell ain't your daddy's CRACKED. Heck, it's not even my CRACKED.
But this new version of CRACKED may just be your teenaged son's CRACKED. Or maybe yer nearly-turned-40-desperately-trying-to-act-hip Uncle Dann's CRACKED.
Maybe.

Having kittens

THE dogs were making a racket yesterday morning, so much so that I had to get out of bed to find out what the fuck was going on.

My brother-in-law - who was staying with us with his family for the week - walked in from the backyard and told me Missy and Indy ("the girls") were chasing a cat, but it had got away through the side gate.

So why were the two terrier terrors still going crazy? I went outside and there they both were, barking like crazy next to the rubbish bins. I thought maybe the cat had hidden behind one of the bins for a bit and the stupid dogs still thought it was there. So, leaning over the back porch, I lifted the smaller of the two bins to show the girls there was no cat there. This only seemed to drive them to a greater frenzy. It was then I looked behind the second bin and saw a small bundle of fur.

I quickly herded the dogs into the outside toilet (yes, we have an outside toilet, is there a problem here?) and took a closer look at the cornered creatures: two very small kittens, seemingly unharmed but petrified and growling furiously at me.

It appeared obvious the mama cat and her two offspring had been dining on Missy and Indy's leftovers in their food bowls. When the dogs were let out of the house first thing in the morning, they'd surprised the furry trio and frightened away the mama cat before she could successfully get her kittens out of harm's way.

When Helen came outside to see what was going on, we worked on a plan of attack. We eventually coaxed/shooed the kittens away from the bin and into the frontyard where they huddled in a sheltered corner at the front of the house. We assumed mama cat would be back soon to retrieve her wayward children.

Satisfied we'd done as much as we could, we let the dogs out of the toilet and went back inside. No sooner had we closed the door than the dogs started going berserk again - this time, they were focusing their attention on a huge bush near the back verandah. It took a few seconds for it to sink in there was a THIRD kitten hiding in the bush and the dogs were furiously trying to get to it.

Once again, Missy and Indy were quickly dumped in the toilet while four-months'-pregnant Helen took on the arduous task of rescuing a scared, pissed-off, bleeding and not-too-helpful kitten that had wedged itself hard underneath a branch at the bottom of the bush.

She eventually got him/her out and carried the tiny creature into the frontyard to join its siblings. We could only hope the cut it had on its leg was superficial.

With no more kittens in the backyard, we let the dogs loose once more and went inside to get ready for work.

Thirty minutes later, as we were leaving the house, we checked again and found all three kittens huddled together for warmth in a corner at the front of the house. They looked so cuuuuuuuute.

I spent the rest of the morning worrying about them. Helen's brother-in-law rang her at one stage to let us know that two of the kittens were now gone. We could only hope mama cat had carried them away to safety and was on the way back to pick up the third one.

Helen and I breathed a sigh of relief that evening when we got home and found NO kittens in the frontyard, although we nearly stepped on mama cat who was wandering near the garden path.

End of story, right? Uh-uh...

This morning, it was my day off work. I got up to have my shower and heard a faint meowing coming from the side path beneath the bathroom window. So I walked out into the frontyard, went round the side of the house and, lo and behold, there were some kittens playfighting among the weeds, while mama cat looked daggers at me, hissing and growling. I quickly skidaddled.

At least they were safe from our dogs (there's a side fence separating them and, besides, the girls are pretty dumb when it comes to working out things like "Where are all those meows coming from?").

I checked again later that morning and mama cat was still there (I assume the kittens were asleep behind her).

When Helen checked this evening, mama cat was STILL there.

We're not encouraging them or anything, but it looks like this cat family's adopted us...for the moment at least.

Stupid cats.

Gruesome update (October 5): I went to check on mama cat and her kittens this morning and they were gone. But when I looked closer, I found the head of one of the kittens lying among the weeds - I presume it was the injured kitten from two days ago, but I can't be certain.

The head looked as if it had been gnawed off at the neck. I don't even wanna fuckin' know what happened there.

Anyway, Helen and I used a shovel to pick up the kitten's head, put it in a plastic bag and chucked it in the outside bin. And then we went to work.

Nature can be a fuckin' shit, eh?

2006 Zine Fair...to middling

I SEEMED to spend much of this year's Zine Fair - sorry, Zine Fair & Independent Artists' Market (held in Newcastle on Sunday, October 1) - discussing with other zinesters how long I've been attending these bloody events.
I reckon the first one was back in 2000 - the zine fair was part of the National Young Writers Festival. They were pretty cool affairs - over the years I spoke on a few panels and met some pretty cool zinesters and comic artists. Even made a few friends.
Helen and I didn't go to the 2004 and 2005 zine fairs due to other commitments, but I decided to turn up this year (Helen couldn't make it as she had too much crap TV to watch at home for work). I won't bore you with details on my nightmarish car trip up to Newie - let me just say, it was pretty fuckin' nightmarish.
Anyways, I get to the zine fair and, boy, have things changed in the past three years.
In the previous events I'd attended, dozens of zine and comic makers were grouped together in one place, whether it be a park or gallery. Everyone was into the DIY publication experience, both the buyers and sellers. There were a lot of people and sales were good (even for my shitty porno rag).
But the 2006 event was diluted by whoever the hell's in charge of NYWF these days.
The zine fair was now linked with a hippie flea market - Auckland Street was swarming with unwashed ferals and various other human detritus. They all wanted coloured beads and handmade jewellery and anarch0-punk political pamphlets and vegie burgers and "really experimental musical experiences, man". They sure as hell didn't want my bloody zine...or anyone else's going on what other zinesters told me. I sold like $40 worth of mags over a three-hour period before I packed it in.
Ah well, at least I got to catch up with some great people on the day including Chris Bizarrism Mikul and the lovely Kath (who kindly lent me half their table so I could set up my wares), comic creator and brilliant animator David Herman The Legal Labrador Blumenstein, dynamic Daniel Watson from Paroxysm Press in Adelaide, veteran horror artists Steve Carter & Antoinette Rydyr, Rod Williams (author of the awesome blog Toxic Waste) and artist Leon O'Regan.
I also met/saw some interesting types (as you always do at these sorta "alternative" dos) including:
* The legendary Pterodactylman (in full costume)
* Mickey, who was organising a "Zine-O-Matic" vending machine for Sydney (I'm still weighing up my options on whether or not to be a part of his project, but it sounds real interesting)
* David (aka "The Man"), a competitor in the Marrickville Jelly Wrestling Federation, AND
* Ruby, a self-confessed recovering ice addict, better known by me later that evening in the pub-formerly-known-as-the-Hunter-On-Hunter as "the girl who spilled her guts to absolutely everyone". Still, when we left Leon, he was trying to pick her up, so I hope it all went well for the young fella. And I hope he used protection!
Despite the limited range of zines, etc. on display, I picked up a few interesting bits'n'pieces including the latest Paroxysm Press anthology Shotgun (thanks for the freebie, Daniel), Pterodactylman Haiku-Zine, Twenty-eight Pages Lovingly Bound With Twine #12 (the US publication I'd read rave reviews about in Zine World), Bloom by talented artist Matt Huynh and several issues of What We Do Is Secret (thanks, Leon).
Sure, I had a lot of fun on the day DESPITE my disappointment with the zine fair itself.
But I won't be returning to Newcastle next year. Apart from the fact that I'll be too busy with a new kid, I don't see much point in going to a glorified flea market and trying to sell zines to femo hippies and families who aren't interested in what I have to offer.