Justice Society of America #34
Written by Bill Willingham
Art by Travis Moore

Willingham’s run truly begins here. I find it interesting that they went from announcing the team was splitting up and then this issue. We didn’t get to see the team actually split up. It is like there is a missing issue.  I think the main JSA Line-up is good, although I feel like the All-Stars are a more interesting group at this point. I wish Amazing-Man was still on the team, he was a great addition to the team and I still miss him. At first I was annoyed that a another person could sneak into JSA headquarters again (I love that they are temporarily staying at the Happy Harbor Cave!) but Willingham proved that I underestimated his writing when he revealed that the JSA knew there was an intruder all along. The art was good, but I do miss Merino already. I am not sure how I feel about Liberty Belle’s characterization, I think this is a wait and see thing on her. I guess I am just annoyed already about how both Willingham and Sturges keep bringing up that everyone thought her and Rick were going to break up cause they are on separate teams. It is too much of a fourth wall breaker because I don’t believe that Mr. Terrific or anyone on the JSA would actually think that. They are just stand-ins for the fans and it rings false in my eyes.

This felt good on the second night of the Snow Storm. (I see why Murdoch was a little concerned about Scott’s fascination with nylons.)  One more from Alan Scott ~

Hello, this is Alan Scott saying things about this and that: This edition really ought to be called “Notes Written by Candle Light” or some other such eighteenth century essay title. Because, in fact, that’s what happened. The Scott household pulled a two century backflip last night and it was a strange and . . . in a way . . . exhilarating adventure. I hope you will forgive this personal bleat, but it’s this way.  When you’re backed into a corner where you must read through your papers and jot your notes by the flickering light of a candle, you find it hard to groove your attention to anything but. Through circumstances, as they always say, beyond our control, there was no electricity at the Scott residence yesterday . . . nor was there this morning when I left home. That is far from being the toughest of all breaks. I mean to say, people have, and still do, in many places get along nicely without an assist from Ready Kilowatt, but when you’ve been leaning on a source of power to make your house light and warm for a number of years and it’s suddenly yanked away, you find yourself on your ear and anything you have to say sounds like a lament in A flat minor . . . except that this isn’t a flat, but a one-and-a-half story semi-bungalow. If you have been exposed to this column for more than a few weeks you know that the Scott family has . . . like so many others . . . been faced with the problem of finding a permanent fox hole. 

 When I was separated from the service last December all we could get was a six month rental proposition and beating the deadline was a very-nearly thing. We made it finally . . .  last Friday. And on Thursday, I telephoned to the business office of the local utilities and thought I had arranged for the service of gas and electricity. Faults no doubt on both sides . . . but something conked out in the arrangements. When we came into the new place on Friday and made ourselves as comfortable as we could on packing cases, the lights were there and the gas range functioned. And incidentally, it was right about there that I caught a renewal of my awe and admiration for the resourcefulness of woman.

When I left home Friday the place looked like a chapter out of the boy scout manual on ‘camping in .‘ What little furniture we have . . . which is far too little to spread around . . . was piled undecoratively in odd corners and from the look of the place you would have thought it would be necessary to rub two frankfurters together to get a meal. But by Friday evening, when I got back .  .  . the house was neat and orderly, if still rather grimly empty . . . and we had a cooked meal by candlelight. I don’t know how Maralene accomplished all that. But that’s part of the genius of woman. The magic touch.  However, little did those candles know that night, that though they were just being used as additional light to lend a festive touch, it wouldn’t be long before they were serving a basic utilitarian end. 

On Saturday we had a hard blowing storm in these parts and damage was sustained by some of the wire supports or something. Service failed for about an hour and then was resumed. That’s why when, yesterday morning, the radio gasped into silence, Maralene thought that it was another temporary failure in power. She reasoned that perhaps make-shift repairs had been made during the storm Saturday night and now the men were back yanking off the adhesive and doing a permanent job. It did occur to her once or twice during the day that she might do well to phone the lighting company and make sure . . . you see she couldn’t see lights in any of the other houses . . . but then it was a bright enough day . . . and lights ordinarily aren’t turned on at this time of year until knee-deep in the evening. But she couldn’t call anyway because (a) the phone has not yet been installed and we have been cheerfully advised that we won’t have one before the end of the year. There is a new classification of priorities. There are eight grades, I understand, and a returning veteran, who is the head of a family, rates the eighth grade priority, and (b) She couldn’t go out to phone because she couldn’t leave Jeff and besides we don’t know the neighbors well enough to be bothering them by borrowing their phone.

I mention those details because they form the hitch that rendered us electric-less last night. By the time l got home, the utility business office was closed and all we could reach was the emergency repair fellow who was affable enough and perfectly ready to be helpful but powerless to do anything. What had happened was this: The previous occupants of the house had not been in it for some time and on several occasions the utility man had called around to shut off the electricity and had not been able to get in. So, an order had been put through which they call a No Access Order. That means that if next the man goes around and can’t get in he is to cut the wires at the source on the pole outside the house. That order was carried out yesterday. There was someone home all right, but the cut off man hadn’t bothered to see and had just carried out his orders. What had happened to my last Thursday telephone order to reestablish service, I haven’t yet discovered.

Well, there we were . . . no electricity, no telephone . . . no nothing . . . and it was a bleak, gray chilly day to boot. That’s no excuse for this long broadcast wail. But did suggest a possible topic for the column. If I can do this without sounding like one of the minor poets with a cherubic message  . . . I’d like to propose that all families institute frequent days, or at least moments of concentrated thanksgiving for the many conveniences which are never noticed ‘til they’re absent. So many things around the house depend on electricity these days. There’s the refrigerator, for example. You keep forgetting that with no electricity . . .  no refrigeration. You open the door and are astonished each time anew that there is no light on the inside. And of course you worry about the dwindling butter supply. The little you have left you are husbanding carefully . . . not knowing when you can get more . . . and how it’s going to keep with no refrigeration. Of course the good old refrig will coast along for some hours . . . taking cold from the ice cubes or the stored up chill within . . . but not for long.

And then, the heater operates in some way I don’t understand, by electricity. So the house is too cold for Jeffery’s bath. And besides, there is no hot water for his bath. Or for his mammy’s or pappy’s, for that matter. The wild idea occurs to you that you can heat enough water for Jeff’s bath at least on the gas range . . . or possibly you can just give him an oil bath. Sure, that’s it. Lug the bathinette into the bathroom, warm up the room with the electric heater and you’re all set. What’s that again? The electric heater? What electric heater, bub? Well, we’ll skip the baths and sit around by candle light . . . and since we can’t read the papers anyway, we’ll just listen to the radio and go to bed early. Listen to the radio, hey? What radio? And that’s the way it goes. All the things you take quietly for granted are suddenly swiped. If I can talk the Long Island Lighting company into patching up those cut wires today I think we will have a small thanksgiving ceremony at home tonight . . . and make ourselves realize how good it is to have heat and refrigeration and light and hot water and the radio going again.

But that realization didn’t do much to solve my problem of note-making by candlelight last night. I finally gave up and decided to fall back on a few items I had had in mind for emergency use . . . except that they were very few and at that I had already destroyed at least one. There was a yarn in the late issue of the New Yorker I had vaguely lined up for possible use in one of these editions . . . but when I went to look for it this morning, I discovered it was in one of the flock of magazines we had burned in the fireplace last night to take the chill off. Our predecessors left no logs and we haven’t had a chance to shop for them. When you move into a house at the tail end of May in forty degrees of latitude . . . kindling and logs are the last thing on your list.

But the New Yorker yarn, I believe I remember fairly well. It was about the tragic-comedy of a Mrs. Adams. Mrs. Adams maiden name had been West. Helen West, I think it was. And as Helen West she had remained on the charge account lists of a downtown department store. At a meeting of her bridge club or somewhere Mrs. Adams learned that said department store had received a shipment of nylons and was notifying its charge account customers of long standing to come in and avail themselves of the precious commodity. Mrs. Adams called the store . . . she’s one of the lucky ones who has a phone you see . . . and demanded, indignantly, to know why she had hadn’t been notified. The department store representative told her that the establishment was taking all customers in turn and was sending out notices alphabetically . . . What was the name please? And then Mrs. Adams remembered with considerable shock, that she had never advised the store of her married name and was still on the lists in the W’s. She hurriedly explained that her name now was Adams and that ought to rate a pretty high alphabetical priority. The store clerk just laughed hollowly . . . really, Madam, don’t try that gag on us . . . And there she was . . . shut out. I realize as I tell it now, that it’s not much of a story except that it’s a touch of irony whose vintage can only be the mad postwar scramble. But you see, ye olde editor is reduced to nylon stories. That’s what comes of having no light to read by the night before.  Come to think of it, today’s edition should be called, Once over no-light-ly.

This being his birthday, I wish I had something extra special to post.  But, as I said, this is how the scripts come out of the tub.  And, I’d like to think, they are, every one of them, special.

If you can, stop by the web site today and sign the guest book.  www.AlanScott.info.  And now, from 1946, with a word about this and that, Alan Scott . . .

I feel a little shamefaced about this next yarn. Murdoch made me take the pledge so far as nylon stocking stories are concerned. And it was only a day or two ago that the column went on the wagon. But here we go falling right off again. It’s like a New Year’s resolution . . . vigorous but short-lived.  I can make out a case for myself though. The kind of stories I foreswore were the kind that described scrimmages at the counter. This one is different.

It’s the story of Calvin McGaugh, a hosiery manufacturer in Dallas, who made the mistake of telling International News Service one day last week that he had no labor difficulties at his plant and the reason was that he gave three pair of nylon hose to each of his female employees every month. You can imagine the effect of that on the news-reading public!

When interviewed, Mr. McGaugh was able to say only one word. It was weak and whispered and the correspondent had to strain to catch it. The word was “help.” Mr. McGaugh rates as one of the most popular men in the country if you count mail pull. He’s heard from more relatives than any man has a right to have. And from many strangers. Here are a few excerpts from letters he received.

One woman wrote, “My mother said you were her second cousin. We were so in hopes you would think of us and send us one half dozen or as many as you can spare. There are three of us. Mother said she made you some very good biscuits once.”

The husband of a college professor wrote that his wife always felt she owed it to her profession to dress well. . . . how about a few pair?

Another man from Port Arthur, Texas said this: “I am a man 85 years of age, in good health and able to walk and work, but no job. I have only one wife and we have one and a half dozen children.” That’s all of the letter that was cited in the account. It’s not clear whether that fellow wanted a job, nylon hose or a few more wives.

A letter from Yukon, Oklahoma, said: “My son expects to be released from the Navy soon and I should like to be waiting at the pier dressed as I used to dress before we were so rudely interrupted December 7, 1941.”

A husband said he was having to fight with his wife to keep her from applying for a job at McGaugh’s mill, in addition, quantities of money orders and cash have poured in and at least one check duly signed but with the amount not indicated.

Am I wrong or is all this a little ridiculous? Or at least, undignified? McGaugh had one letter in the back that was his favorite and he was able to wave it weekly at the reporter. It read: “I came back home to find my sweetheart maybe not as affectionate. In time to come, I hope to have the pleasure in marrying my present girl friend. But I have got to win her back with kindness somehow. I do believe a few pair of nylon hose would do the trick.”

It’s great stuff, isn’t it? We’ve labored through centuries of economic development only to wind up back in the age of barter. A girl with a few shirts can buy a husband and a man with a pair of nylons can buy a wife. And it’s extraordinary to what degree we have returned to barter. I guess you saw that Associated Press report from Austin, Minnesota about the two gentlemen who bartered their way through Florida with butter. The Messrs. Reppesaved and Kokalaris are celebrated gentlemen for having managed a trip through Florida, never once failing to get accommodations at hotels. The magic of the expedition was simply this: They carried fifty pounds of butter with them and when a hotel clerk showed a disposition to be tough, they hinted that they might spare a little and that did it.

They must have been travelling in a refrigerated car at that to have kept the butter barterable in Florida’s climate. 

. . . I wonder what I could get in the open market for a shellback card, a discharge button and one slightly used radio script?

Please, visit the site at www.AlanScott.info and celebrate a great man’s birth!

Tomorrow is the official launch of AlanScott.info.  Here’s another little tasty bit from Alan Scott.  “Subways are for Sleeping” was a popular play in 1962, based on an article written in 1956 for Harper’s.

From time to time I have foraged in the preserve of one or another of the principal contributors to this total edition. I have snitched a bit of hard news – or, at least, a crumb from the edge of it; there have been hit-and-run sallies into Sports and Weather and so on. This time I swipe a morsel from the Theatre Department but only as a getaway car. Just this quick reference to a play of recent vintage called SUBWAYS ARE FOR SLEEPING. Just a short-term loan of the title.

The New York City Transit Authority has put out an eight-page booklet concerned not so much with what subways are for as with what they are NOT for. “Subways” for example, according to the list of Don’ts in the booklet “are not for singing.” There is to be no fishing in the trash receptacles for discarded newspapers. There is to be no amateur art work on the walls and posters.

While I am almost totally sympathetic with the motives that generated this List of Don’ts for Decorum in the New York subways, there is a small reservation lurking here and there. I can recall in the long waits in a subway station in the latish hours being exposed to a rendition of “Til We Meet Again” rendered in a fine baritone rumato by some inebriate whose harness of repression has been loosed. Music critics would perhaps not have given it four stars measured purely on sterling operatic criteria, but it was merry and brought the moody strangers on the station platform a warm glow of togetherness.

Again, I’m not sure that interfering with a citizen’s right to retrieve a discarded newspaper isn’t dangerously close to throwing a body block at his legitimate prerogative. I have seen riders on swank suburban locals in a ferment of indecision when eyeing a discarded Gazette on a seat in the train. I believe there is something of a code in these matters. If the paper is untidily crumpled it is not considered good form to go for it. If the page is turned to the cross word puzzle and the puzzle is only part done, the issue is moot.

And finally, this bit about disallowing amateur artists their efforts to improve the billboards and enliven the murals, how then are succeeding generations to relieve frustrations in regard to abundant beards and sideburns? You know what the harvest will be, don’t you? The young men of tomorrow (though it may seem incredible to you now) will be letting their hair grow long and raising beards and that might get to be pretty doggoned messy.

in short, I’d like to know what the New York Transit Authority thinks subways ARE for, If not for singing and not for salvaging discarded newspapers and not for tonsorial addenda to existing fine art….what? For getting from place to place and that’s all?

If it weren’t for the fact that it’s a self-liquidating metaphor it would have to be called pedestrianism on wheels.

Seems my father, Alan Scott, was planning to publish a book of his essays. “These essays,” he says, “came into being as postwar sedatives.” I’ve calculated this to be written in May of 1946. 

Before the war, Alan Scott was what is commonly called, a news commentator. However, it must be said that his was an uncommon technique. As in all things he has attempted, Scott defied the standards of conventional news analysis. His broadcasts were never pedantic; there was no suggestion of special sources or omniscience so characteristic of many of his contemporaries. His manner was rather that of a fellow who might be sitting next to you on the bus who, with a modicum of encouragement would tell you how issues current happened to strike him.

As a further anti to any toxins which may attach to the designation of news commentator, it should be noted that his syntax was at all times clean, without being unpleasantly precise; his rhetoric smartly cut, without being overtailored; his manner, amiable. If there is visible in the above paragraphs a disposition to an appraisal of Alan Scott, radio personality, and if that seems untoward in an introduction to a published volume of his essays, there is a defense. Until now, with minor exceptions, Scott’s journalistic efforts have been exclusively for radio. The challenge posed in writing for vocal delivery is different from that confronting the writer whose work will be set down in dumb print. There is, however, some feeling among contemporary critics that universal radio attendance has served to bring two techniques into more affable focus. It may well be that the preserved literature of the language will be affected. If that happens, there is more than a passing possibility that Alan Scott will be anointed as one of the earliest disciples of the new modus.

Certainly there are few, to date, who, in the field of radio writing have come up with anything worth putting under glass. For the most part, writing for radio has produced either a prose so outrageously blowsy as to be unable to stand up under second look (as in the case of writers of stature who have been called in from time to time to minister to the ailing script) or out-and-out orthodoxy in the classic pitch. The latter attempts when re-examined must be ticketed as homeless hybrid. The writing, while good enough has not been as frivolous as sound requires and just sits there like black print.

It is not my purpose to dissect or fix a price tag to the skill with which these essays are composed. The reader will, in time, make that judgment for himself. Having charged Scott with being the Roger Bacon of the New Literature, I simply submit that the following essays will serve as exhibit en masse for the prosecution. It is my guess that this book will be read (a) by everyone who has heard Scott on the air and knows there IS a book; and (b) by those to whom it has been earnestly recommended by AS.  I, therefore, leave it to AS  to effect the personal introduction. They will probably busy themselves trying to isolate that special ingredient of style which is both pepsin and clove. And they will probably despair of it as I do and end up by saying “Here, read and see for yourself.”

However, though I have (and rather nimbly, I think) ducked the major responsibility of introduction, I am obliged to mention the basic vital statistics. Alan Scott is a Philadelphian, He is thirty-seven years old. His wife is Maralene. His son is Jeffery Joel, aged twenty months as this goes to press. He is best known to radio audiences in the Philadelphia and Chicago metropolitan areas. He has broadcast coast to coast.

A word about Murdoch. He is referred to from time to time in these essays. All that I know is that Scott has never suggested that Murdoch is a first or last name. . .  only that it ends with an H and not a K and that Murdoch is rather fastidious about it.

In honor of my father’s 100th birthday this week and the launch of his new web site AlanScott.info, I am dedicating the entire week of my blog to his scripts.  As the scripts get scanned and edited into the digital age, they arise in no particular order, just as they come out of the tub where they have been stored.  Keep in mind these scripts were written well over 50 years ago. 

Here’s another from his radio show, “Once Over Lightly.”  I call it simply, “Vacancy.”  And now, Alan Scott.

As a sometime fancier of the classified ad section of the newspapers for elective light reading I am not unacquainted with those that list vacancies. Vacancy is a beckoning word with a lot of potential topspin. There is the vacancy in the office force which might be filled by qualified applicant and vacancy in an apartment house. I’m sure you’ve seen those neon script signs outside motels where the word blinks at the weary traveler with the promise of bed and bath. But by far the most monumental vacancy to be advertised in the public prints is the vacancy in the upstate strip mines. These are huge, gaping emptiness-es mocking the countryside where once strong men delivered the earth of its mineral burden. Question arises: what do we do to refill?

Any nominations?

Who’s for attempting to fill the holes in the ground with junk mail? Those artfully contrived communications, addressed to occupant, which invite you to come and borrow a basketful of money with no embarrassing questions put to employer and/or neighbors. That could take care of some of the space. How about the printed copies of the aimless oratory in the halls of congress or the chancels of the UN? What would you say to some of the musical records performed by the “Uncles and the Aunts” or the “Four Thugs” or the “Long-tressed Lolligoggers?”

There has been talk of dispatching the thousands of abandoned cars to be compressed and dropped into the empty mines. There would be a nice propriety in that. Sort of returning the minerals to the vein that spawned them. Rust thou art to rust returnest, so to speak. And not at all far fetched. We’ve been doing just that for years at Fort Knox.

This is an open-ender. In a world in which each of us could rattle off a list of many things we’d like to unload, it shouldn’t be hard to come up with a few suggestions for what to dump into the yawning strip mines. That’s your homework for tonight.

My brother and I (mostly my brother) have been working on a web site we hope to unveil on December 18, the 1ooth anniversary of my father’s birth.  He’s long gone now, but he was something of a Philadelphia TV celebrity in his time.  He was on the radio in Chicago, New York and Philadelphia with a regular broadcast where he would talk of “This and That.”

I have been busy scanning his radio scripts (from the 30’s to the 50’s) for posterity.  Somehow there’s a feeling of forever with the Internet.  We can only pray.  So, I have been consumed by this project lately and only managed to scare up a paragraph or two on “shit happens.”  Perhaps I will work with that concept more tomorrow. 

In the meantime, then, I offer a “guest blog” if you will, from my father Alan Scott.  This is an excerpt from a broadcast on September 1, 1937, at 7:30 pm on WFIL radio. It seems a bit like a blog for its time. Note the elipses were probably used to help him in the reading of it.  This was to be broadcast, not published. I hope you find it as touching and warm-hearted as I did.  And now, Alan Scott . . .

I had anticipated making the acknowledgement in high good humor as indeed it should have been. But something has happened to challenge the mood and since we’ve never before attempted any camouflage of spirit I feel that I should not now betray what I feel…. As I understand it that’s what friendship is for. And I’ve always known you to be friendly enough to take whatever is on my mind or heart and understand it. Well then, let me tell you about it.

The story starts several years ago when through the ‘This and That’ column I was fortunate enough to win a rare friendship with a young lady who was suffering some slow incurable malady. The young lady lived in one of the suburbs and her notes which some of you may remember I shared with you from time to time because their magnificence of charm was much too much to keep to myself…. They displayed an infinite patience and gentleness of spirit which is perhaps the only true measure of nobility. You see she knew that she was dying. She must have known too, that death as remote as it may have been, was removed from her by nothing more than bed-ridden solitude. And yet she kept alive a brightness of interest which was nothing short of poetry. The effort it cost her to appear to be gay and cheerful and happy…none of us will ever know because she never suffered herself to show that it was an effort. I think you knew about our friendship through some of her letters which were read with you because I felt then, as I do now…. that their message was addressed to all of us. What perhaps you didn’t know, because it would have been ungallant to tell you about it at the time, was that on occasion, when the tyranny of afternoon routine lightened, I would drive out and spend some time with her… talking of all the gay and light and trivial things. Last summer when I went abroad I sent her a post card from every port…This past winter when I went south I brought her some tiny animals fashioned of shell and coral… she had some measure of happiness in the tiny circus of animals she was collecting.

When last I spoke with her she said rather wistfully, I thought…”Well Scott, when will you be on again?” I gave her the brisk smile and assured her it would be soon. And then she said something which chilled and stayed with me. She said simply…”I hope it will be soon”… just that; but the odd emphasis with which she leaned on the word soon told me, though she gave no other sign of it, that it had better be soon because she felt the end was very near. She looked so fragile and weak at the time… that I hesitated to reach out to tell her that we could do ‘this-and-that’ together again.

Today, when I went through the mail….the mail I wanted to thank you for tonight…I found a letter from her sister. I read it hurriedly and don’t altogether recall its contents at the moment, but I understood that I was to call Florence…That the end was indeed very near and that she had discovered the chat on the air again…and that there might be time to exchange a personal word. I reached for the phone directly and called…only to be told by her father that Florence had died an hour earlier.

There is some measure of bitterness in the knowledge that I might have read that note earlier. It just happened that I arrived at the office unusually late this afternoon. I know that I shouldn’t let the fullness of heart run over into what we say to each other…but I don’t see how I could have talked to you about the warmth of your welcome home without telling you this, too. I should like to think that these words, in some incomprehensible way, could bridge the gap and find in the mysterious mechanics of transmission somewhere on the road to whatever it is that is beyond.

I suppose it can’t matter much in the timelessness or the infinite but I wish I could have talked to Florence earlier this afternoon…just before she went away…not to say good bye but to thank her for having let me find and know her gentle and courageous spirit.
Thank you, Pop, for these gracious words for Florence, whoever she was.  If you, my readers, are of a mood, you could check out the web site that my brother has so dedicatedly developed at www.AlanScott.Info.  My father, who was excited about cable tv in the 70’s , would be so pleased with the technology that will preserve his writings forever.

Changing Turkey in a Changing World is proud to announce the winner of the 1st Big Idea Competition:

A Melange of Cultures

by Alan Scott

Mr. Alan Scott is a teacher of mature years living in Istanbul and currently teaching English at Okan University (Istanbul-Turkey). He was born in New Zealand and worked as a high school teacher of English there. He first came to Turkey in 1995, and, apart from two years back in NZ, he has lived in Istanbul since then. He has a strong attachment to this country now through his Turkish wife, Dilek, as well as a great interest in Turkish history and culture. He has three grown up children living in Australia.You can see Mr. Scott’s blog where he publishes his thoughts as a foreigner in Turkey at: http://turkeyfile.blogspot.com/

Each year Muslims prepare a delicacy known as ashure in remembrance of Noah and his people, who survived the flood of God’s anger. Search for the recipe of this ancient dessert. You will find many experts willing to share their knowledge – but little agreement, other than that it has a large variety of ingredients. For this reason, ashure has been used as a symbol of multi-culturalism. Yet, in the end, it is just a dessert – one item in the culinary wealth that is Turkish cuisine. How much more difficult to define the peoples currently in possession of this land lying at the meeting point of Asia and Europe!

Excavations at Çatal Höyük, near the Turkish city of Konya, have revealed a site dating from 7500 BCE, the oldest centre of civilisation on earth. The modern name, Konya, derives from ancient Iconium, which was a city in the time of the Hittite empire, around 1500 BCE. It was an important city in the kingdom of the Phrygians, in the 8^th Century BCE, later falling to the Persians, and again to Alexander the Great, before being assimilated into the Roman Empire. The Book of Acts records that St Paul preached a sermon there around 50 CE. Its Christian history ended in the 11^th century when Konya became the capital of the Seljuk Sultanate, and Muslims still visit the tomb of the Sufi mystic, Mevlana, in this iconic Turkish city.

Plunge a spade into the ground anywhere in Turkey, and you will find traces of similar antiquity. Preparations for Istanbul’s year as ‘European City of Culture, 2010’ have been slowed by the city’s archaeological riches. Work on the Metro line has unearthed thousand year-old harbours and ships from Istanbul’s days as capital of the Byzantine Empire. In the last thirty years, its population has swelled from three million to more than fifteen million. Shopping centres comparable to any in Europe exist in proximity to shantytowns of migrants from the Anatolian heartland, where methods of agriculture have changed little in two millennia.

The European stereotype of a Turk is the image evoked by names such as Genghis Khan – squat, swarthy, muscular Mongolian horsemen, thundering in hordes out of the Asian steppe, raping, pillaging and burning – locating themselves on the lower rungs of a rational person’s ladder of civilisation. Yet even the physical characteristics of a Turk are hard to classify. Almost every shade and combination of skin, eye and hair colour will be met, and a striking range of body shapes and sizes, from Naim Süleymanoglu, the pocket Hercules weightlifter who measured 1.47 m and won three Olympic gold medals from 1988 to 1996, to Sultan Kösem, who, at 2.47 m, was recently recognised by the Guinness people as the world’s tallest living man.

One thing can be said with certainty: attempting to glibly define Turkey and its people, and to locate them on some arbitrary continuum of civilisation is risky. Your stereotypes may bounce back to confound you.

Justice Society of America #33
Written by Bill Willingham and Matthew Sturges
Art by Jesus Merino

The team splits into two teams this issue after defeating the villains who attacked and destroyed the Brownstone. I still feel the split is forced even though the JSA did fail at this mission. All-American Kid turns out to be the evil villain Kid Karnevil which was a cool twist. We still don’t know who was behind the attack from the villains or why Kid Karnevil wanted Obsidian in egg-form so this really wasn’t a conclusion, but it was a fun ride, even if the split seems forced. But the question still remains: where the fuck are Atom Smasher, Sandman, and Jakeem Thunder?!

Superman/Batman #66
Written by Scott Kolins
Art by Kolins

As it turns out, Bizarro is much more interesting in Black Lantern emotional spectrum vision then he is without it. Haha. I like that he said he was full of rage when the Black Lantern saw love. Nice use of the opposite speech and twisting it to fit Blackest Night perfectly. It was also great to see Frankenstein and the Bride. This was good but a little rushed. It was a quick read.

The fall semester is coming to a close and students are now frantically trying to figure out where they will be working and interning in the spring as they see promotion across campus claiming that you can “Refresh Your Resume Here!”

The College of Communication’s Fall 2009 Job and Internship Fair took place on October 28, and students are looking for any way to distinguish themselves from the pack. Many are trying everything from resume and cover letter workshops to elevator speeches and research, but the best way to leave a mark is to leave something unique behind. The Alan Scott Chapter of PRSSA has helped Texas PR students make a business-like impression with business cards.

Today, I’ll give you my opinion on the traditional business card, including when you should use the card and some great mobile technology alternatives.

Why Does It Work?

Most students don’t bother. There is a list of at least a thousand excuses why students don’t make the extra effort, but the truth is a business card sets students apart. When I gave my mentor my business card she was pleasantly surprised! Her laughter was the result of shock. So few students take the initiative to get cards and then have the courage to present them that professionals are often taken aback.

It is something small, portable and TANGIBLE! I love the unique take-away! If you can leave your client, professional acquaintance or potential employer with something very few others can, you will remain at the top of their mind. When searching for an entry-level position this can be something as simple as a business card.

When the B. Card is Most Effective

If you know your product (you) and you know your audience you can easily decide if the business card is the right move.  If you are competing with tons of other people for attention the business card as a take-away is perfect.

At a career fair the business card is great accompaniment to your resume/cover letter/application – just staple it right to the document! Seeing it as you pass your information will immediately raise a red flag, telling the potential employer that you are driven and thoughtful. The company you are most excited about may not take paper applications. That’s okay. Just ask them to exchange contact information and make the hand-off. If anything this tactic is stronger because you have made a connection with a specific person and they now have your information.

Even if you are a trendsetter, the hiring manager at Old School Media, Inc might not have that new iPhone app. Knowledge of who is hiring you will help you determine when the business card is appropriate.

However, if you are networking with an eco-friendly green fiend and you spend 15 minutes talking about saving the environment then you should HAVE a business card alternative. In this industry digital alternatives will not only be welcomed, but they will be impressive.

You should also display a grasp of the field in which you want to be hired! Your knowledge of new media and mobile communications may be what makes you qualified for the job, so don’t shy away from revealing your expertise. If your new acquaintance doesn’t fully understand, they can at least appreciate your comprehension.

Digital Alternatives to the Business Card

1. DubMeNow enables users of the app to exchange information that is saved directly to your mobile address book. You can also share contact information via e-mail. DUB also updates  your address book anytime your contact changes their information.
2. BusinessCard2 allows you to create, manage, and leverage your professional identity with ease. This tool has four tabs for content, contact information, linking to sites, and sharing your digital card.
3. With TwtBizCard you can link your Twitter profile with a free personalized online business card and instantly start tweeting with the hash tag, “#twtbizcard,” or add #twtbizcard to an @reply.
4. Create a professional digital business card that aggregates all your online identities using Retaggr. After creating a Retaggr profile, you can customize an interactive business card that lets people get your contact information and browse your Flickr photos all at once.
5. These iPhone options:  Bump and BeamMe allow you to exchange digital info seamlessly with other iPhone owners while SnapDat allows you to share a digital image of your business card.

If you are serious about making it in our industry let potential employers know that when you walk in the door its BUSINESS TIME.

Kristin Turner
Social Media Officer

Justice Society of America #32
Written by Bill Willingham and Matthew Sturges
Art by Jesus Merino

I have a feeling that All-American Kid is going to die, which sucks because I liked him but I guess that just shows that Willingham and Sturges are good writers and character creators. Mr. Terrific is definitely going to be back as his body is being held in stasis. This was by far the best issue of the Willingham and Sturges run so far. Power Girl acts more like a chairwoman then she did even under Johns’s pen. Things do go from bad to worse as everything catastrophic does keep happening. Chimera is shown to be an incredibly powerful character in this issue but I know he is not behind anything. Whoever is behind this is someone who knows the JSA well and he or she is doing a really good job at destroying them. I am looking forward to seeing how this concludes.

Justice Society of America #31
Written by Bill Willingham and Matthew Sturges
Art by Jesus Merino

It was nice to see Power Girl actually acting like the chairwoman and barking orders – even if it was just to stop a fight between Magog and Wildcat. Mr. Terrific’s death really wouldn’t effect me either way. I have never really liked the character and thought he was completely overused. But I doubt that he is dead – for good at least. I am beginning to like All-American Kid. I believe that he is being sincere and I hope he sticks around. Still no sign of Jakeem Thunder or Atom Smasher. I hope that Willingham and Sturges haven’t just forgotten them. Merino is on top of his game in this issue and proves he is a worthy successor to Eaglesham. Magog is still a big jerk and completely unlikeable. I am looking forward to seeing who is behind all this.

Superman #692
Written by James Robinson
Art by Fernando Dagnino

I like that Ryan Choi is being mentioned in two books this week! At least DC isn’t completely ignoring him for the boring Ray Palmer. This was a spectacular issue in my opinion. I love how Robinson rings in obscure characters and plays with the DC Universe so well. When he writes, he uses continuity and characters very effectively. There were a lot of developments here. Mon-El is alive (shocking – not really) but the Guardian, thinking he is dead, gives aways Mon-El’s secret identity. I also like the developents with Zatara. What is this power source they are talking about? What is Mirabai up to? This is truly an epic mystery. I don’t think we are even close to having all the answers.

Habe gerade die Abschlusspredigt von der Konferenz “Healing on the Streets” in Hamburg gehört. Alan Scott aus Nordirland spricht über die Enttäuschungen, mit denen wohl jeder umgehen muss, der überhaupt etwas wagt – im konkreten Fall über Enttäuschungen im Zusammenhang mit ausgebliebenen Heilungen durch Gott.

Ich fand Scotts Weg sehr ermutigend und hilfreich – gar nicht erst erklären zu wollen, wie und warum Gott handelt oder nicht handelt (auch wenn das Nachdenken darüber sicher auch seinen Platz hat), sondern mit dem Schmerz und der Enttäuschung direkt zu Gott zu gehen, sich auf ihn zu werfen, trotz allem an ihm festzuhalten.

Die Predigt gibt es hier zum herunterladen oder im Podcast der Anskar-Kirche Hamburg-Mitte.

Magog #1
Written by Keith Giffen
Art by Howard Porter

This series is something that I  was shocked to see DC soliciting. It seemed to be completely unnecessary – why give Magog his own series when there are so many other BETTER characters (Cassandra Cain, Linda Danvers, ect.) who deserve their own monthly. But I decided to give it a chance – and it has completely failed to prove itself as being worthy this issue. There is nothing to like about this character – and Giffen overnarrarates so much with this character that I wanted to puke. Why does this Kingdom Come character have his own series? Does Didio like him or something? Does he not get that the character was created as a parody? Why was there no mention that he had metahuman powers as Lance before he became Magog? This guy is a bigger douchebag then Hal Jordan – and that is saying a lot coming from me.

By Keith Giffen (writer), Howard Porter (artist), John Dell (inks)

The Story: A quick 1-page summary of Magog’s origin opens the book, but segues into a gruesome splash page that opens the book with a bang in Sudan. Magog is tracking illicit meta-tech that’s being used for nefarious ends. A mystery is in play. When he calls for Green Lantern (Alan Scott), he appears quick enough that Magog realizes he’s being kept on a pretty short leash by the JSA. Roots of a fracture begin appear…

What’s Good: Giffen, a long-time comic veteran, starts big with Magog in Sudan and keeps the tension rising. Some readers who don’t know much about Sudan might consider some of the gory images a bit over the top. The fact that some of this stuff is really happening in Sudan gave this opening sequence an added resonance.

Giffen also opened an interesting pandora’s box. Magog editorializes about how superheroes do not involve themselves in foreign situations. The logical inconsistency is as old as superheroes themselves. If you had the power of Superman, why not go stop the holocaust? Sudan is a very clear, modern example of a genocide no superhero is taking on, except Magog. Cool theme. I look forward to seeing where Giffen takes it, because he posed the question, but certainly didn’t answer it.

What’s Not So Good: Magog as a character is not very original or interesting. He’s just the Wolverine, Rambo, Punisher (take your pick) cliche, just in a different set of tights. He’s a lethal, sardonic, grim avenger we’ve all seen before. This isn’t Giffen’s fault, but he’s stuck with Magog now, so he’s going to have to figure out soon what makes him worth watching instead of any of the other clones out there. There are signs that Giffen is moving that way, but it will take time to see if the promise pays off.

In the exposition, we need to understand that Magog is brutal, but the level of violence he delivers in this issue is well into the gratuitous. Many stories have shown brutality without having to resort to slasher imagery. It unfortunately detracts from the quality of the book when something more subtle might have made a better point.

On the art, I’m not sold. It does an adequate job, but the faces and poses were a bit still and even generic (check out the panel with Green Lantern and Magog in the hotel room – they look like twins). Also, the skin tones in Africa bugged me. What on Earth was going on? The severed limbs clearly had caucasian skin, despite the fact that on the next page, the victims are clearly African. The skin tones of the brutal oppressors were also white, but with vaguely Asiatic features. That didn’t make a lot of sense, considering the Janjaweed of Sudan are also black. Given the courage Giffen had in locating the opening scene in the brutality of Sudan, I was disappointed that the art team held back on showing it more realistically.

Conclusion: I wasn’t wowed by this book and I can’t recommend it.

Grade: C-

-DS Arsenault

by Bill Willingham & Matthew Sturges (writers), Jesus Merino (art), Allen Passalaqua (colors), and Rob Leigh (letters)

The Story: The JSA fight back, getting a little extra help from a new member, before returning to the Brownstone to discover the wounded Mr. Terrific.  Meanwhile, cracks are beginning to develop in the team that may reach their boiling point sooner rather than later.

What’s Good: I certainly felt that this issue got better as it went along. The last scene, an argument possibly turning into a brawl between Magog and Wildcat, was miles above the rest of the book. The dialogue was solid and Willingham and Sturges had a good grip on the voices of both these characters. This scene is by far the best written in the entire book, as entertaining infighting over age and tactics reaches its boiling point.

Also, as you can probably tell by the issue’s cover, this month sees the entry of Dr. Fate into the JSA. The central issue here is that this is a new and significantly less powerful/experienced version of the hero, and it really is handled very, very well. At first I felt that Fate’s menacing dialogue felt a little stilted, but apparently this was cleverly intentional, as the new Dr. Fate was essentially putting on an act and bluffing to seem more powerful than he was. Already, this younger Fate is a worried but likable character, and it’s rather fun seeing a hero like Dr. Fate suddenly being taken under the wing of the JSA as a student of sorts.

The action scenes are also fun and explosive in the way you’d expect from a JSA comic. Plus there’s a lot of Stargirl love going on here.  The issue of the bad guys refusing to target her, even at their own expense, is certainly intriguing.

Jesus Merino meanwhile continues to do an admirable job.  Continuing to make order from chaos with an old school vibe, Merino also draws a nice Power Girl and Dr. Fate. There’s also one particularly outstanding splash of the Flash.

What’s Not So Good: Willingham and Sturges are still finding their feet and so some of the dialogue feels a little awkward.  Magog in particular is cringe-inducingly bad, with the forced pseudo-military language feeling ridiculous to the point of self-satire. Interestingly, Magog is written perfectly in the final scene with Wildcat, yet in everything prior, he’s terribly written. It’s as though the writing team was learning on the job.

Also, there are some rather sloppy bits of storytelling here. As an example, all of the downed JSA members, save two, suddenly and inexplicably recovering at the same time, with perfect timing, was just ludicrous. We literally go from the heroes lying on the ground, to an image of all them posing and looking perfectly healthy  in the space of one page.

Also, one can’t help but criticize the lack of imagination behind this whole “every member of the enemy team is designed to counter a specific JSA member” schtick.  It’s been done a million times, and sure enough, we get the no-brainer solution, which is for the heroes to switch enemies.  It’s just way too obvious as it’s been done many times enough for you to know.

Conclusion: Not a bad issue, but there’s still some growing pains and lazy storytelling.

Grade: C+

-Alex Evans

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Son of the original Green Lantern, Alan Scott, and twin brother to Starheart branded, Jade, Obsidian has always been the odd one out in the family because of his shadow powers.  Sure, we were told because of his father’s mystic connection to the Starheart and battles with Ian Karkull, Todd gained superpowers in the womb but how exactly does that work?

So this got me wondering – could Obsidian’s ability to manipulate the Shadowland (a dimension of primordial, quasi-sentient darkness) actually be connected to the Blackest Night or Nekron’s realm?

On the surface his power gives him the traditional superhuman strength, endurance, blah, blah, blah but it does make him virtually immortal and the ability release people’s dark side, as well as, being a living shadow. In fact, being born with the black light inside of him could have easily given him an advantages like Jade. No zombie face, no need to rip out hearts, just black light manipulation and functionally immortal (and resistance to antimatter). Even similar character such as Shade (who also manipulates the Shadowlands) can create constructs similar to the Green Lanterns.

It will be interesting to see  how the Black Lanterns see him and how his powers effect them. If they are faced with their dark side, will the Black Lanterns remember their past lives? Who knows but I can’t wait until this story is completely told.

Click to Enlarge

Justice Society of America #30
Written by Bill Willingham and Matthew Sturges
Art by Jesus Merino

This issue sees some debate in the team about whether or not they should go after the bad guys or check in on Mr. Terrific who isn’t answer his commlink. In the end this leads to a fight between Wildcat and Magog. Magog is acting like a jerk and I really hope the split that is going to happen with this team isn’t one where people follow Magog and others follow Wildcat because I know these characters know better then that. I hope it’s a peaceful split. I am glad they are splitting the team because Willingham and Sturges haven’t shown that they are very good at showing the whole team. I mean we still haven’t even seen Sandman, Atom Smasher, or Jakeem Thunder since their run began. I also don’t buy the idea that the villains would be all afraid of the new Doctor Fate. I mean Doctor Fate isn’t more powerful then all of the JSA combined? I guess I am having a hard time believing that this group of villains would even be able to take down the JSA without Doctor Fate. But complaints aside, I did like this issue and I am enjoying their run so far.

Power Girl (Volume 2) #3
Written by Jimmy Palmiotti and Justin Gray
Art by Amanda Connor

Okay after really thinking this series sucked last issue I have to admit this was a lot of fun and exciting. There is a perfect mix of action and humor and while most would be quick to point out Amanda Connor’s artwork, the dialogue is just as good. Pamiotti and Gray really showed me that they can write a good comic here. Let’s just hope they stay consistent from now on.

Power Girl (Volume 2) #4
Written by Jimmy Palmiotti and Justin Gray
Art by Amanda Connor

This was another really fun issue! This creative team are great storytellers. Now that the Ultra-Humanite arc is over this series is really getting good. I like that Terra is becoming Power Girl’s sidekick and seeing them go to the movies and then afterwards fight villains is awesome! If that is all this series is about I would still read it. I like how Power Girl treated the Dungeons and Dragons girl and gave her a job. This was just really good. I am a Power Girl fan now!

Green Lantern Corps (Volume 2) #39
Written by Peter Tomasi
Art by Patrick Gleason

As Blackest Night hits the Green Lantern Corps, we get a lot of focus on Kyle – as this series should have all the time. I am definitely enjoying it. Jade is back as a Green Lantern – although wasn’t her body destroyed? Oh well it doesn’t manner the Black Lanterns seems to manifest as dead versions of the people in their normal state (i.e Aquaman doesn’t look like the dweller despite dying in that state). Tomasi spelled Wrigley field with two g’s in this! Come on! That is some bad editing. It reminded me of this dog park near Wrigley field called Wiggley Field haha. That always makes me smile. I am easily amused.

Justice Society of America #29
Written by Bill Willingham and Matthew Sturges
Art by Jesus Merino

This was certainly an interesting way for Willingham and Surges to begin their run on this title. Hell I don’t even care if Mr. Terrific is really dead, he is an annoyingly overused character anyways. (I am sure a lot of people will hate me for saying that but it’s how I feel), I just hope that Obsidian doesn’t turn out to be the bad guy here. That has been done too many times before and we don’t need another gay villain, especially when there is a conservative writer on board this series. The best thing about this issue has to be Merino’s art. I think he is a worthy successor to Dale Eaglesham. I would have also liked to see Power Girl…you know…act like a leader. But it’s not like Johns wrote her like she was the leader of this team either. The new characters, All-American Kid and King Chimera are interesting and I look forward to learning about them.