Happy Birthday to the United States Marine Corps!
And as an added gift:
God bless you all!
The Mithril Guardian
Happy Birthday to the United States Marine Corps!
And as an added gift:
God bless you all!
The Mithril Guardian
Much is made today of the need for strong female role models for young girls. The academics and critics have succeeded in convincing the public at large that there are not enough heroic women to inspire the next generation of girls. They naturally ignore the mothers of these girls, insisting that there must be other, greater paradigms of feminine glory at every turn which they can aspire to become. When these people turn to history for models for modern girls, they tend to mythologize the heroines of the past. They claim these women “broke with the customs” of their times in order to blaze their own trail in a “man’s world.”
In this way they are the victims of their own desire to eradicate knowledge of true history. They have forgotten that it was not strange in the American West for women to own, use, and know guns as well as men did. Women served in the American War for Independence as well, such as the famous “Molly Pitcher” – Mary Hays McCauley – and Deborah Sampson. One frontier heroine of the Americas, however, was perhaps more daring than even these bold women, in part for the fact that she performed her heroics at a much younger age.
Born on March 3, 1678, Marie Madeleine Jarret de Verchéres grew up in a military seigneury along the St. Lawrence River. A military seigneury was a plot of land granted to officers in the army, as it was known at the time, the army of New France. The French soldiers were persuaded to settle on the land as habitants while the officers, called “seignurs,” remained in command of the fort or stockade.
The stockade Madeleine called home was the property of her father, the Sieur François Jarret de Verchéres. Within the Verchéres fort were the manor house, where Madeleine’s family lived, the blacksmith’s shop, the blockhouse, and the cabins of the habitants. The habitants, men and women, worked in the fields, both for their own food and on behalf of the Verchéres family.
Madeleine was the second oldest child in the family, followed by twelve year old Louis and ten year old Alexandre. The youngest of the six children were a boy, Jean, and two girls, Angélique and Cathèrine. François, the oldest of the Verchéres children, had died at the battle of La Prairie in 1691 as part of a campaign against the belligerent Iroquois Nation. He was greatly missed by the whole family, though they admired his courageous example.
The Iroquois were a confederation of northeastern Native American tribes. The head tribe was that of the Mohawks, from which we get both the name and the distinctive hairstyle. Unlike the Hurons and the Algonquin, the Iroquois were not on good terms with the French. Allied with the British, the Iroquois had adopted their biases and hatreds for the Catholic French settlers. On top of this, the Iroquois were enemies of the Hurons and the Algonquin, Indian tribes which had united with the French. Any friends of those tribes were enemies of the Iroquois.
This animosity led to many battles between the French and the Iroquois. But by 1692, matters seemed to be improving. Governor de Frontenac had returned to New France. To protect his people from Iroquois attacks, he had patrols sent out and fought battles against the hostile Indians. Having dealt with near-famine the year before due to increased Iroquois activity, the French settlers in the St. Lawrence area were pleased with the coming harvest. Reports said that the Iroquois were far away and would not trouble their region.
In October of 1692, Madame de Verchéres had to attend to business in Montreal. With the Sieur de Verchéres away already, in her absence one of the children would have to command the fort as it belonged to the Verchéres family and they must maintain their authority over it. Because she was the oldest of the remaining children, Madeleine was the only choice for this position. This would be unremarkable in the annals of history except for one small detail: Madeleine was fourteen years of age.
While Louis and Alexandre were to be left with Madeleine, the three youngest children would accompany Madame de Verchéres on her journey. The older children saw their mother and younger siblings off before they returned to manage the seignury. For the next two days, all was quiet. But on the morning of October 22, 1692, while overlooking the seignury from the St. Lawrence River, Madeleine and the family’s old manservant spied a number of Iroquois creeping up on the fort. The two ran back and gained the safety of the stockade in time, closing the gates behind them immediately afterward.
Most of the male settlers were not so fortunate. The habitants working in the fields had been left woefully unprotected by the sergeant in command of the fort’s militia. Feeling secure in the lack of Indian activity over the past months, the sergeant had taken six of his men out on a hunting trip. As a result only two soldiers remained in the fields to guard the habitants, while two more were left to guard the stockade. This meant that the men in the fields were easy targets, and many were killed or captured by the Iroquois that morning.
Inside the fort, Madeleine sent Alexandre to one of the bastions – a watchtower on the stockade wall – to monitor the situation and allow any habitants who ran back entry into the fort. Then she, Louis, and the elderly manservant filled a gap that had developed in the palisades. All the while they wondered why the small cannon, kept in the stockade to be used to warn the neighboring seigneuries of an attack, had not yet been fired.
Madeleine learned the reason for the cannon’s silence when she went to the blockhouse to load the muskets she and the others would need for the defense of the fort. The two militiamen on guard in the stockade had retreated to the blockhouse when the attack began. Madeleine found one of the two with a lit match. In his terror, he planned to blow the fort up rather than face torture and death at the hands of the Iroquois, a plan his compatriot agreed was best.
Flabbergasted at their weakness, Madeleine rebuked the soldiers swiftly and fiercely. Sending them to the bastions, she set about her own work. When her brothers and the manservant joined her, Madeleine told them to order the habitant women and children to retreat to the blockhouse, where they would be safest. Meanwhile she, her brothers, the manservant, and the two militiamen would guard the fort.
It was not long after this that, looking out through one of the loopholes in the fort’s walls, Madeleine saw an Indian dragging a boy across the ground. She fired her musket, but was promptly knocked backward by the weapon’s recoil. Experienced with a pistol, she had never used the much larger gun before.
This is one of many details in Madeleine’s story which puts the lie to the academics’ and critics’ claims that women were not expected to fight. Indeed, fighting was considered a man’s profession, and rightly so. But on the frontier, with the threat of attack ever a possibility, the men knew that their women must be able to protect themselves if anything should happen to remove them from the scene. Madeleine’s familiarity with loading muskets and her ability to shoot demonstrates that her family’s status, wealth, and position in New France’s society did not prevent them from teaching her the critical art of self-defense.
Because of the swiftness of the attack, Madeleine did not have time to change out of her simple dress and moccasins. The only thing she had time to do was snatch an old military hat from a peg in the blockhouse after loading the muskets and jam it on top of her neatly tied-up hair.
Many modern filmmakers would be shocked by this. They would be so tied down to the contemporary belief that women were held back by the customs of the times, and therefore expected to be simpering damsels who stayed at their sewing or baking rather than learning how to use a gun or withstand a siege. Were certain directors and scriptwriters to make a film about Madeleine, they would probably show her chafing under her younger brothers, who would be put in command of the fort in her place despite their younger ages simply because they were boys and she a girl.
Yet nothing could be further from the truth. All three children had withstood an Indian attack some two years earlier. During that attack, their father had also been absent. Their mother, however, had commanded the militia and the people in the fort until the siege was lifted. Madeleine had experienced the terror of an Iroquois siege before, and had had a perfect role model for how to withstand one in the future. She was no simpering damsel, nor was she a firebrand who learned to use a pistol in secret while smiling forcedly over her sewing. She was a lady born and bred on the frontier, trained to defend herself and those under her care by her parents.
A battle-tested frontier girl, Madeleine knew that survival in New France depended as much on wits as it did on weapons. She therefore understood that, if the Iroquois decided to directly attack the fort they would easily overwhelm her small band of defenders. So she ordered her group to make it sound and appear as though they had a full garrison of grown men protecting them. Wary of the noise as the guards called “All is well!” and the shots fired intermittently from the loopholes, the Iroquois held off on a direct attack, falling for the ruse.
If this were the extent of her courage, it would be enough, but Madeleine did more. The same day that the siege began, she and the guards watched from the bastions as neighbors of the Verchéres rowed down the St. Lawrence River and into sight of their fort. These were the Sieur Pierre Fontaine, his wife, and three of their children. They had heard the cannon shot Madeleine had ordered, but were unable to row to a better defended fort because of the distance. Pierre Fontaine brought his wife and three children to the Verchéres seignury because it was closer.
At the risk of her own life, Madeleine walked down to the riverfront to collect the family, her only defense a pistol. Boldly she escorted Fontaine and his family back to her fort, despite the threat of Indian attack. The militiamen had been too afraid to do the deed, balking at her order to rescue the Fontaines. And so Madeleine walked out to rescue the family herself.
Madeleine did not sleep during the first two days of the siege. Since the militiamen had proved to be such cowards, she kept them in the blockhouse with Fontaine as their commander at night, unwilling to trust them as sentries in the dark. Thus it was that she stood guard on the bastions with her brothers and an elderly manservant through the nights, rotating shifts with Fontaine and the militiamen during the days. On the sixth night of the siege, a habitant youth managed to escape from the Iroquois camp and return to the fort. He told Madeleine that the Iroquois, tired of waiting for the French to show themselves, planned a large scale attack on the seignury the next morning. With nothing left to do but prepare to fight for their lives, Madeleine and her small garrison prayed and committed themselves to God, knowing they could never withstand such an attack without help.
The attack never came. Another prisoner who had escaped from the Indians managed to secure help from Montreal. The next day, after a week-long siege, Madeleine and her command were overjoyed to receive French reinforcements. When they learned a French force was coming down the river to aid the fort, the Iroquois had quietly and quickly left the seignury. Neither Madeleine nor the others had heard them go.
Madeleine de Verchéres fades from history after this almost superhuman event. It seems that the Verchéres seignury was never seriously threatened by the Iroquois again. For her heroism in directing the defense of the fort, Madeleine was awarded a life pension by the French crown when she became an adult. At the request of a later governor of New France, she related the story of how she had withstood the Iroquois. She married, but the union apparently remained childless. The only following incident we know of in her life before her death is the story that she saved her husband, Pierre Thomas Tarieu de la Pérade, when he was assaulted by an Indian in 1722.
There are no great memorials dedicated to her memory, no films paying tribute to her bravery. Only in a small park in Verchères, Quebec, is there any physical reminder of Madeleine de Verchéres. It is a bronze statue of a young girl wearing a dress, a set of boots, and an officer’s hat. She is holding a musket, which is pointed at the ground.
Madeleine de Verchéres is not held aloft by the academics or critics as the ideal of a courageous woman, but she should be. Much can be learned from this daring young heroine of the New World frontier. It is a sad shame that, when role models for girls are demanded so vociferously, one magnificent heroine remains lost to the general public. It remains to be seen if anyone will ever champion her memory in the future. Let us hope that someone does succeed in raising her back to the public consciousness. She is a heroine who should not be forgotten.
I saw the Twin Towers fall on September 11, 2001. I saw the aftermath of the strike on the Pentagon. I saw the crater where Flight 93 fell rather than hit the White House.
I saw all these things. I have not forgotten them. They are a part of my memory and my life from now until the day I die.
I refuse to ever forget what happened on 9/11/01. I refuse to forget what was done to us, and I refuse to simply let it happen again.
This is my home, now and to the day I die. This flag is my flag, and I will love and defend it with all I have, no matter who challenges me for it.
I will never forget!
The Mithril Guardian
Hey, readers! Did you happen to hear that Marvel’s comic book sales are declining? If you did not, then you probably missed what Marvel’s VP of Sales, Mr. David Gabriel, had to say about it. Read on to find out just what he said:
“What we heard was that people didn’t want any more diversity. They didn’t want female characters out there. That’s what we heard, whether we believe that or not. I don’t know that that’s really true, but that’s what we saw in sales. We saw the sales of any character that was diverse, any character that was new, our female characters, anything that was not a core Marvel character [sic], people were turning their nose up against. That was difficult for us because we had a lot of fresh, new, exciting ideas that we were trying to get out and nothing new really worked.” (Source: http://www.express.co.uk/entertainment/films/787249/Marvel-comics-diversity-Ironheart-Kamala-Khan-female-Thor-Iron-Man-Avengers-Infinity-War)
This is news Marvel apparently got from the retailers selling its comics. While some retailers saw an influx of new clientele, most saw a big drop as people ignored the new comics because their favorite characters – Captain America, Iron Man, Falcon, Hulk, Thor, etc. – were being killed off and/or humiliated, which means that their audience felt depressed and/or mortified. Marvel’s comic book sales have weakened in proportion to the steady stream of replacement, politically correct characters and stories the company has been trying to shove down our throats for the past three or four years.
I was astounded to see this statement from Mr. Gabriel. I have known for years that Marvel would lose revenue if it abused its audience by maltreating or destroying its characters. If you have followed my blog for a while, you know this is so. What surprised me was that a member of Marvel’s hierarchy actually admitted that sales were dropping because of the “new materiel” they were introducing. I told ‘em this was going to happen, but did they listen to me? ‘Course not. And now they are shocked that people do not want to buy comics that make fools of and/or destroy their favorite characters. Well surprise, surprise, surprise, Marvel! How could you have missed that fastball?
I can hear some of you fainting right now. You think I am an awful person for celebrating this news, no? That I hate women and diversity, too, n’est pas?
Well, no, I don’t. Allow me to explain what made me rejoice over Mr. Gabriel’s statement: what made me happy about his announcement was that he has finally admitted, on behalf of the company he serves, that politically correct characters are turning fans off of the Marvel franchise. He has finally acknowledged the obvious; that so-called “characters” like Jane Foster/Thorette, Amadeus Cho/New Hulk, Riri Williams/Ironheart, Kamala Khan/Ms. Marvel, and Gwen Stacey/Spider-Girl, along with other “new,” “diverse,” and “legacy” protagonists – which are supposedly “meant to bring women and minorities to the forefront of social consciousness” – are really hurting instead of helping Marvel’s brand.
So if I like what Mr. Gabriel had to say, then why am I writing this post? I am writing this post because he and his colleagues are missing the point of why their sales are falling. Mr. Gabriel says what they believe; that legions of Marvel’s fans hate women and diversity, and so they need to keep doing what they are doing in order to win their “deplorable” fans – you and me – over to their view of the world. In essence, they are accusing the thousands of people who support their business of widespread bigotry, intolerance, and stupidity; completely ignoring the beam in their own eye to pluck out the mote in ours.
This is what has Marvel fans so upset. This is why they have stopped buying the new comics. Marvel fans definitely do not hate diversity or women. The latter is proved by the fact that Marvel already has hundreds of established female characters with existing fanbases – although you would not know that if you were new to the Marvel multi-verse or have only heard about it from the mouths of twits (most comic book film critics). Go to my post “Offended, Insulted, and Not Shutting Up” for a roll of Marvel’s female characters and a link to a longer list where you can learn about more of them. The fact is that these reviewers could care less that Marvel has a panoply of female characters for the simple reason that it is not part of their agenda.
As for the idea that Marvel fans hate diversity, this is a laughable argument because it is so easily invalidated. Marvel has been diverse since it was founded, something that is shown through characters like Storm, Falcon, Black Panther, Misty Knight, and Luke Cage, all of whom are black. Separate sources have consistently claimed that either Black Panther or Falcon was the first black superhero to appear in comics, beating out DC’s Black Lighting. I think that Storm might predate the three of them, but I am not sure.
Quicksilver and the Scarlet Witch are Gypsies, readers. Red Wolf, Mirage, and Thunderbird are American Indians; and Colossus and the Black Widow are Russians who have become U.S. citizens. Then there is Nightcrawler, who is German and who barely resembles a human; Silverclaw, who is Brazilian; Sunfire, a Japanese man who follows the tradition of the samurai, and Bengal, a Vietnamese superhero who lives and works in Vietnam.
If Marvel were not diverse, readers, then these characters would never have been created by Stan Lee and the original writers. If Marvel’s fans hated diversity, none of these characters would have lasted more than one issue. Before 2015, they were all alive in the Marvel multi-verse, which means they have, collectively, been around for nearly seventy years. How can people who have kept these characters “alive” for so long hate diversity? Answer: they cannot, and therefore they do not, hate diversity.
So if Marvelites do not hate women or diversity, then why is Marvel losing revenue on its new comic books? Hmmmm…. Maybe these books are doing poorly because the fans, new and old, actually like Thor Odinson as the Prince of Thunder and not some prancing female using his hammer and claiming to be something she is manifestly not. Maybe fans truly liked Bruce Banner as The Incredible Hulk and really hate the fact that Marvel had one of his best friends kill him. Maybe fans are in fact more than a little bit upset by Marvel’s decision to make Steve Rogers a secret agent of HYDRA and a flaming NAZI. Maybe they genuinely like Tony Stark as the Invincible Armored Iron Man who can build his way out of a trap with a broken laptop and some chewing gum, instead of a fifteen year old science whizz-kid who could do her own thing instead of shoehorning herself into his act.
And maybe they do not like one of the first black superheroes – Falcon – being shoved into the role of Captain America, since it smacks of condescension and patronization. This move by Marvel is obviously meant to appease the PC police. And by doing this to the Falcon, Marvel’s writers are essentially stating that they think Sam Wilson – and therefore his fans – should not be satisfied that he is one of the first two black superheroes in comicdom. They would rather destroy the Falcon to make a new, “modern” Captain America that is anything BUT an American.
So maybe the reason sales are dropping is because fans think that pushing Falcon into Steve’s suit, handing him Rogers’ shield, and leaving him to spout anti-American claptrap like a ventriloquist’s dummy actually demeans African-Americans instead of “elevating” them or making Sam “more relevant” to the times.
Yeah, I think these facts may have more to do with your declining sales than sexism or racism, Mr. Gabriel. Too bad you and everyone else at Marvel have not realized this yet. Or, realizing it, you have decided that you know what we want because you are the “better and the brighter” of society and YOU are never wrong. We are just peons who cannot see the mote in our eye. That might be true, but you are missing the enormous beam in your own eye, buster.
So much for the customer is always right, eh, readers?
The reason I am writing all of this is because the people presently helming Marvel – and their enablers/cheerleaders in the world of critics – do not want more diversity or female characters. They want an emasculated male populace and homogeneity. They want black to be white, left to be right, and the population of the world to be nothing less than mental clones of them. Though they are doomed to failure, this does not mean that we can simply sit on the sidelines and let them ruin the Marvel universe(s). It means that we have to fight back against their dehumanizing push for sameness.
This leads me to another problem that Marvel is currently experiencing. An article at http://io9.gizmodo.com/marvel-vp-blames-women-and-diversity-for-sales-slump-1793921500 states that another reason for the drop in Marvel’s sales is due to the increasingly schizophrenic story arcs the company has been churning out for two years. I actually think this problem goes back to at least the Disassembled and House of M story lines. The reason I trace the problem back that far is this is when I noticed that Marvel was going off the rails. Disassembled and House of M may not have been the starting points, but they were the arcs which made me bite my lip and think, “@&*!, here we go with the death, despair, darkness, your-heroes-are-really-villains-in-disguise downward spiral.”
Just think about it, readers. After House of M the Marvel universe – which was originally upbeat, positive, and generally told decent to good stories – took a nosedive into the muck. After House of M we were fed the atrociously immoral and disgusting “Ultimate Universe.” Then we were handed the insipid “New Avengers” storyline and endured the advent of the largely lukewarm “Young Avengers” crew. We were handed the demoralizing Civil War arc next. Then we had the sickening Avengers vs. X-Men event; the asinine “Unity Squad” story line, and the Original Sin plotline which led to the putrid rewrite of the Marvel universe(s) in the Secret Wars event of 2015.
According to Beth Elderkin, the writer of the article at io9.gizmodo.com, there have been “at least 12 events and crossovers [in the past two years]. Events, in particular, have become more of a chore than a reward. There’s little build-up or anticipation because you know another one’s right around the corner. They also can completely screw over beloved characters for the sake of drama, like turning Captain America into a fascist as Sam Wilson has taken [on] his mantle.”
She says this makes it hard for new readers to focus, and I will not argue that these endless events do not help new fans to get their footing in the Marvel multi-verse – or, rather, what is left of it. But the problem she does not address is that none of these events or crossovers is positive. These stories are all negative and thus display brazenly the idea that Marvel’s management, who believe themselves the “best and the brightest” (but are truly the dumb and the dimmest), know what’s best for the rest of us. They also continue to drive the homogeneity mantra onto readers’ minds like a suffocating pillow. Not one of these events leaves a reader feeling uplifted and ready to face the world again. How do I know this?
Because that is what simply reading descriptions of these story arcs did and still does to me. And I am not alone, something which Mr. Gabriel’s admission about moribund comic book sales proves. Every last one of the story arcs I listed above may be compelling and addictive to some readers, but to most of us they reek of negativity, despair, and nihilism. How many people want to stew in an emotional/mental/spiritual refuse pile like this? If the downturn in Marvel’s comic book sales is as steep as Mr. Gabriel seems to believe it is, then I think I am safe in saying that ninety percent of normal, everyday people do not want this junk. This means that Marvel is selling to a narrow market which is shrinking day by day.
But why is Marvel having this problem at all? If the difficulty is too many dispiriting events, the company could easily fix the problem by turning the characters over to new authors, right? Possibly, but from what Beth Elderkin says this entire problem is born of the fact that “….There’s been a steady decline in Marvel’s talent pool, because of better offers and independent retailers. One retailer mentioned at the summit that it’s especially hard to keep talented writers and artists when they can make creator-owned books at publishers like Image. Not only does it give them more flexibility to tell the stories they want, but they also keep way more of the revenue.”
Again, I will not argue with her. Though I have no idea what Marvel pays its artists and writers, I do know that the writers they are allowing free reign in their universe(s) at the moment should not be allowed anywhere near a keyboard or a pen. The “stories” that many of these writers are pumping out are evidence that they are intellectual hamsters running inside fetishified exercise wheels decorated with death’s heads.
So finding new writers for Marvel who have positive attitudes and a love of truth, beauty, and goodness is going to be a challenge. Believing that Marvel would hire these people seems to be asking for a miracle. And if Marvel currently has writers who want to tell true, good, and beautiful stories with their characters, these writers appear to be few and far between. And these people are either barely hanging on to their jobs or they have left for greener pastures.
“All right, Mithril,” some of you say, “if these are the problems, just what are we supposed to do about them? Marvel is a big company and they won’t let just anyone in. They specifically tell aspiring artists and storytellers, ‘Don’t call us, we’ll call you.’ How are we going to fix a company that doesn’t want to be fixed?”
Good question. There are several options available to fans, readers. If you are like me and my friends, and you do not like the stories which Marvel is publishing, keep doing what you have been doing: avoid their new comics like the plague. This means that their sales will keep plummeting and they will, sooner or later, be forced to clean up their act in order to stay in business. Or they will finally hire people who will do this service for us. Either way, remember that money talks. If your money is not going into their pockets, then the silence will get their attention.
Another option is to become a writer yourself. If you write good stories and books and they sell well, are positively reviewed, and have the masses talking with mouths and wallets, then Marvel will probably notice you. Then maybe – just maybe – you will get lucky and they will tap you to write for them.
If you do manage to accomplish this feat, then I would add the caveat that you do your best to keep your eye on the prize. Put your slippers under your bed, as Denzel Washington advised, so that you always have to kneel down to get them in the morning. You got where you are by telling good, true, and beautiful stories, and this is what you want to do with Marvel’s heroes. Keep that goal in mind and you should be fine.
If you are not much of a storyteller, and you are already speaking by not buying Marvel’s comics, then you can always write letters to Marvel in order to explain your displeasure with them. This is what I do; I watch Marvel’s movies, read the older comics, and critique the cartoons. Besides blogging about the characters I enjoy as much as I can, I also write letters to Marvel’s top echelons, telling them what I think of their new comics (and I don’t think much of them).
You can do this, too, readers. Marvel has five different email addresses where you can send letters, as well as a section for general feedback on their website. I have never gone that route, so I cannot tell you what to expect if you try it. However, if you write letters to Marvel, put OKAY TO PRINT alongside your email’s subject heading and send it to one or all of the following addresses: firstname.lastname@example.org, email@example.com, firstname.lastname@example.org, email@example.com, and/or firstname.lastname@example.org. And do not be threatening when you write to them. Believe me; they will notice your letters, even if they are politely phrased.
The squeaky wheel gets the grease, and we Marvel fans have more right to be squeaky than that posse of small-minded critics and “cultural gatekeepers” do. Unless these people actually buy Marvel’s comics in droves (which they very obviously do not), they are not the audience the company has to please. It was our money that made Marvel what it is today, not the critics’ pens. I say it is high time we reminded Marvel of this fact.
For myself, I will continue to do all of the above. I know I sound as though I am crusading against Marvel’s hierarchy, and I guess I am, after a fashion. But I am doing so as a customer who desperately wants to preserve an enjoyed and admired product, so that I can pass it on to others to enjoy in the future.
I want to be entertained by Marvel for many more years, readers. Right now, they are not entertaining me OR legions of their fans. They are trying to force their view of the world on us through these “new,” PC characters, destroying the good and great and true ones in the process. That is cultural bullying, which is a form of intellectual tyranny. It must be stopped. The only way that we can convince Marvel’s management to right the ship is to tell them why we are not buying their product. But we have to actually tell them if we are to have any hope of returning Marvel Comics to the good, the great, and the true, which is timeless.
Until next time, readers….EXCELSIOR!!!!
I have been meaning to write a post about this subject for a while. For those of you who have no idea what in the world I am talking about, no worries. This blogger does not expect everyone to know everything about the things I enjoy, just as I hope no one expects me to know a thing about rocket science or the life span of a great white shark. So hold on tight as I try to explain the subject of today’s post. It might take a while.
Thundercats was a cartoon series which debuted back in the 1980s. It focused on a species of humanoid cats. The nobility among this race were called Thundercats, while the common folk were known as Thunderians.
I have always been a sucker for cats. So when the series reran at odd hours during my childhood, I would scramble to watch the episodes. To recap the general plot: Thundera, the home of Thundercats and Thunderians alike, was a planet which somehow died. Think Superman and Krypton; the core was unstable or something like that, and the planet went ka-blooey as a result.
A number of Thundercats and Thunderians escaped the planet’s destruction. One such group of Thundercats included Cheetara, a character based on the cheetah; she could run 120 mph on a morning jog – and faster in combat. There was also Tygra, based on the tiger, whose bolo whip could make him invisible to the naked eye. He and Cheetara were hinted to be a couple.
Then there was Panthro, the strongest cat of the group; he was based on the panther. There were the Thunderkittens, Wilykit and Wilykat, fraternal twins, sister and brother. They were based on wildcats, but you could not be sure which kind from the look of them.
Jaga was the wise, Obi-Wan Kenobi magician/mentor in the group. No one has any idea what kind of cat inspired his appearance. And, last but most important, there was the young heir to the royal throne of Thundera – Lion-O, the future Lord of the Thundercats. Yes, he was based on the lion.
Oh, yeah, and then there was Lion-O’s nanny, Snarf. No idea what Snarf was based on; he was the only cat who walked on all fours most of the time. The Thundercats walked like humans do, unless they had to climb or run up a steep mountain as fast as they possibly could.
Anyway, Lion-O and his escort, along with the convoy of ships following them, ended up under attack from a group called the Mutants. The Mutants were humanoid animals, mainly resembling Lizards, Jackals, Vultures, and apes (these were known as Monkians).
The entire convoy except for Lion-O’s ship was destroyed. The Mutants boarded their ship in the hope of recovering an ancient Thunderian weapon and the heirloom of Lion-O’s house: the magic Sword of Omens.
Naturally enough, the Mutants were repelled. But the ship was heavily damaged in the battle and would never make it to the Thundercats’ planned new world. The best it could do was the third planet in a small solar system in a dinky galaxy. (There was, apparently, intergalactic travel in the original Thundercats series.)
The trip was too long for the group to survive outside of suspension capsules. Because he was the oldest, Jaga did not enter a suspension capsule, which could retard but not stop the aging process. He piloted the ship to the Cats’ new home but died before the ship crash landed on Third Earth, a wild world with ancient secrets.
Lion-O was the second Thundercat to awaken from suspension, the first being Snarf. Once he was awake, Lion-O realized he had grown to a full adult during his years of suspension. The pod seemingly malfunctioned and did not slow his aging as much as it should have, since the Thunderkittens remained the same age as when they entered the pods – they were older than Lion-O. He looks to be about thirty, if not slightly younger…
But his mind is all twelve year old boy. Add a big dash of leonine pride to that, and you get the general recipe for the Thundercats series.
Third Earth at first seems hospitable enough. But on an adventure out of camp, Lion-O runs into an ancient evil that has slept on Third Earth undisturbed for centuries: Mumm-Ra, the ever-living mummy and self-proclaimed ruler of Third Earth.
Yes, this is kind of corny. But there is a bonus point about this villain which I always liked. Mumm-Ra could never stand the sight of his own reflection. If soundly beaten in a fair fight by the Thundercats, he would retreat with dire warnings about how bad their next encounter would be. If the Cats were hard-pressed, they would use any reflective surface that they could find to show him his own face. The sight of how ugly he was would drive Mumm-Ra back to his black pyramid and into his sarcophagus, so he could regenerate and keep being “ever-living” – especially after the fright of seeing the evil etched into his own skeletal face.
Three new Thundercats were later added to the roster. Lynx-O, a blind Thunderian based on the lynx, became the team’s living voice of wisdom; Ben-Gali, based on the Bengal tiger, became the team’s new weapons expert. Lastly we had Pumyra, based on the North American puma or cougar. She and Ben-Gali looked to be about as perfect a couple as Cheetara and Tygra.
To a child, the world of the Thundercats, even if it is odd, is wonderful. I never needed any explanation for anything when I watched the series re-air as a small viewer. When I was older and looked up the series, I left the incongruities of the stories alone. What mattered to me were the characters and the morals they imparted during every episode – because in the eighties, every cartoon series had a moral in each episode. Or very nearly every series had a moral in every show. Such contemporaries of the Thundercats as He-Man and the Masters of the Universe or Transformers, for instance, had a moral to each story.
Characters in He-Man would lecture the audience directly at the end of every show, whilst Transformers let the moral lie in the story. Thundercats followed Transformers in that regard, being only a bit preachier in the way the characters spoke to each other. ‘Course, they were trying to teach a twelve year old future king who had grown to adulthood in his sleep how to be mature. They had a pretty good excuse.
Even after Thundercats was canceled, there was still a fan base to appease. I have no idea how many older children watched and enjoyed the series when it came out first, but there must have been enough. After a while comic books were made to show the ongoing adventures of the Thundercats.
And, as the saying goes, it all went downhill from there.
I looked up the comics when I was trying to find out more about my favorite childhood series. What I discovered in this search was utterly appalling. Thundercats had begun life as an innocent children’s show, and I was not the only one naïve enough to have expected the comics to maintain that tone. What I and other fans of the show found was that the innocence of the series had been ravaged and destroyed by the comic book writers.
After a few glances through the descriptions, I stopped reading, since I wanted to be able to sleep at night. So I only know of a few things which I can say against the comics. But it is enough. If you are a child or have a child with you, stop reading here and/or send the child away NOW.
The writers for the comics had Cheetara captured at some point in their stories and raped by Mutants. This was bad enough for me; Cheetara had been my favorite Thundercat growing up. It got worse, I quickly found: somehow, the two Thunderkittens had also been captured by Mumm-Ra in the comics. The Ever-living Mummy then decided to use them as sex slaves – both sister and brother – for his personal amusement.
Reading this the first time, I nearly threw up on the keyboard. Thanks to the reviewers on Amazon who had not been so fortunate, I knew that I never wanted to pick up a Thundercats comic book in my life. But the knowledge has never really changed my opinion of these “stories” and the writers who created them.
And the thing is, these awful incidents in the comics were not only disgusting, they were illogical. Throughout the TV series the Thundercats always made sure to keep tabs on each other. They always came to the rescue if one of them ended up in trouble. The idea that Cheetara could be captured, let alone raped, without the Thundercats making sure that the perpetrators suffered the consequences is more than slightly unbelievable.
This also makes the capture and corruption of the Thunderkittens impossible to consider. The Cats made sure to take care of the Kittens; if ever they went missing, the adults would tear off after them. That they somehow allowed the Kittens to be captured by Mumm-Ra and never tore the planet apart in at least an attempt to find them is totally out of character.This was one of the reasons why I became worried about the new series which aired in 2011. The new Thundercats TV show drew a great deal from the comics. It added species which had never been in the original series, gladiatorial combat, and made the entire storyline far less sunny and happy-go-lucky. It also subtracted Mumm-Ra’s vulnerability to his own reflection, replacing it with the vampiric weakness to sunlight. Previously, Mumm-Ra had never had a problem moving around in the day time. He is, after all, an ancient mummy, not a vampire!
I did enjoy some of the additions to the new series, readers. But always in the back of my mind was the worry of just what the writers might pull from the comics for the series. The darker tone of the show did not ease my fears.The last straw came at the end of the first and only season of the new series. This episode saw Pumyra turn on the Thundercats and join with Mumm-Ra, who apparently had taken her as his paramour in the bargain. The fact that the writers would turn the originally sweet, innocent Pumyra into this was absolutely infuriating. I was more than glad that the series died quietly after this episode.
Nevertheless, that does not mean that the writers are off the hook for what they did to this character – and that goes double for the comic book authors! The original Thundercats series, the writers for the new TV show reportedly said, was “too much like a Sunday morning cartoon,” to be appealing to modern day audiences.
Well, duh! That was the point!!! That was what it was!!!! No one in the 1980s had a problem with Sunday morning cartoons. They especially did not mind if they had kids!!!!!
As for no modern audience being interested in the original series or “Sunday morning cartoons,” what are I and other fans like me – cat food? We enjoyed the original series just fine the way it was!
And that is just the point. These new writers did not want to reboot the series from its original foundation. They wanted to change the premise of the story entirely. Doubtless, the comic book authors felt the same way when they began crafting the comics for the Thundercats.
This really stuck in my craw, for one reason and one reason only: the new writers felt the original show was too guileless – too innocent – to attract audiences today. And I believe they are flat-out wrong in this indictment of the earlier TV series and others like it. If you follow the in-crowd, you never try anything new. So how will you know whether audiences today do or do not like and want “Sunday morning cartoons”?
But it is what this attitude highlights that I find most upsetting. What is it with the urge in our “modern” age to destroy innocence? From abortion to kindergarten programs which teach children about sex, it is horrifying to see just how far we have fallen in so short a span of time. The world will rip apart the innocence of childhood and children as they grow up. Why do we have to help it with comics like the ones about the Thundercats? Why do we have to have television shows which do the same thing?
The answer is: we do not need these things. We really, truly, do not. The fact that too many of us want to make them in order to be “hip,” “cool,” and to impress the people in the “right circles” is not a need. It is following the crowd and supporting, ironically enough, the status quo which these mainstream moguls claim they want destroyed.
Marvel, DC, and most other “children’s entertainment” venues are doing this as we speak. Even Disney is engaged in this disgusting game. Disney has more than a few live action television shows which degrade boys and girls, making caricatures of the players in the stories and thereby the actors who portray the characters. They are supposed to be funny, but I can tell you that I have never found even one thing comedic in the advertisements for these shows, let alone the actual episodes.
I do not know about anybody else, but I am absolutely fed up with all of this. I am tired of the implication that I am backward, out of touch, and a rube because I like innocent pleasures and naïve kids’ shows. As if any of the writers who have turned the art of professions meant to entertain children into lewd pap has the moral authority to tell me or anyone else that!
This has to end. It has to stop. Too many children have already been hurt by this. They have grown into hurting adults who hurt their own children, either on purpose or in a search to find what they have been told is “ultimate freedom.” These writers and others like them have sold children into slavery to ideas and misconceptions which have landed them in prison, in poverty, in disease, or in addiction. And they have sold those children’s children into the same situations. It has to stop!
How do we stop it?
How was Sauron defeated in The Lord of the Rings? Aragorn’s army did not stop him. Frodo’s quest to destroy the Ring, which betrayed itself when Gollum bit off his finger, did the trick. This demonstrates that, eventually, every tempest of horrors imaginable will end in its own defeat.
And just like Frodo, we can help it along. We can show our children what innocent shows like the original Thundercats look like. We can make sure they read good books, see good movies, and hear good music. We can keep them innocent for as long as possible by making damn sure they are exposed to as little of that other stuff as possible. The battle started when the Enemy went after our children, readers…
It is past time we fought back the same way.
Bully: “You just don’t know when to give up, do you?”
Steve Rogers: (Panting) “I can do this all day!”
That was one of the best lines in Marvel’s Captain America: The First Avenger. I saw that movie after Marvel’s The Avengers came out, but it only confirmed what I had seen of Steve Rogers in that film. Though I sometimes wonder about Chris Evans, I know there is no need to wonder about Cap.
I am sharing a picture with you today. It was made for the backs of certain comics issued by Marvel several decades ago – at the time when we were still intent on travel into space. I have no idea what the “Young Astronaut” program being hyped in the small white print was or is, and I do not really care. The picture of Captain America standing behind two stargazing children is what I want to discuss today.
A number of years ago, I ended up with some leftover comics. There was some housecleaning going on, and these books were on the chopping block. I was asked if I wanted any of the comics, since I had begun perusing them curiously instead of helping with the packing and the cleaning. I said yes after making sure the original owners did not want them back, then packed the books away for some time. Oh, I read a few of them, but I was interested in other things when I first acquired the stories. I felt a little silly reading the comics, too, despite the fact that I loved the characters in them (or most of them).
Also, at the time my ability to read comics was almost non-existent. I had been raised on normal books, so it took a while before I figured out how the story in a comic book progressed from panel to panel. In my limited defense, there were no comic book stores in my vicinity, and I usually eschewed graphic novels. Garfield comics are not nearly as detailed or involved as Marvel’s were, either. No one I knew at the time was a big comic book reader, so I was on my own.
Eventually, though, I decided to tackle that stack of comics to find out which ones I really could not live without and which could go. Some of the comics were easy to ditch; they were pieces of story arcs, and I did not have the rest of the story. Flick, there it goes. Some of the pieces were not to my taste. Flick, there they go! One of them was from the Dark Phoenix Saga – I hated the cartoons based on that storyline, so I was not interested in the comics, period. Bye-bye!
Others stayed. They were fascinating, as much for the advertisements as for the stories. The ads were like snapshots of time. There are not many comics – or other media, for that matter – which advertise Daisy rifles or BB and air guns these days. To see them displayed on the back cover of a comic in the same way as video games was refreshing. It was like stepping into a previous, freer era I had heard about but which I had never really seen in a concrete way before.
Then I closed one of the comics and found the above picture on the back.
It took my breath away. Literally, all the air went out of my lungs and I know my eyes nearly popped out of my head. If advertisements for rifles and BB guns are rare today, posters encouraging space exploration have gone the way of the dinosaur in most media outlets. Even the few we have now are not always this poetic.
You look at the picture and the first thing you see is the blue background. It makes you sit up and pay attention. You notice the stars peripherally as the star-gazing figure of Captain America pulls your eye toward the center of the page. Then you see he has his left hand on the shoulder of a boy who is standing in front of him. The boy cannot be more than twelve. He in turn has his left hand resting on the shoulder of a girl who is probably his younger sister. All three are gazing up at the star above the R in Reach.
If you look closely, you will notice that the boy and girl’s mouths seem to be slightly open. The sight of the stars hanging above them is so spectacular that they have forgotten to keep their mouths closed completely.
Cap does not have this same look of slack-jawed wonder. He is looking at the stars in a different way. You can just imagine him telling the children that, someday, they are going to get to explore those stars. That he wants them to go where no man has gone before, to see things and new worlds he will never get to explore. The life of an Avenger, like the life of a soldier, means that you get to visit all sorts of wonderful and amazing places, but you barely get glimpses of them while you are there. Cap has been to the stars…. but he has never seen them except in passing flashes.
These kids, Cap hopes, will be explorers. They are the future, the next generation, the heroes of tomorrow. Not heroes like him – they will be heroes for the territory they open up, the discoveries which they make, and the worlds which they find.
The boy and his sister will not be alone when they go out to do this, either. They will have each other. You can see that in the way the boy’s hand lies on the girl’s shoulder, assuring her that he is there for her, as her standing in front of him reminds him that he is not alone.
I think I nearly cried when I saw this picture first. It still makes my eyes a little wet as I look at it now. It reminds me of when I was a child, dreaming of being on the starship Enterprise. It recalls my old dreams about the unending possibilities there would be for being a hero, like the characters I admired and loved and watched so faithfully.
I wish Marvel had more posters like this. Not posters with just any old hero on them, readers, but posters with a hero who adds dignity and honor to the picture. Cap does that here. If you tried to redo this picture with Captain Marvel, or Iron Man, or Black Panther, or Star-Lord, or even my other favorite Avenger, Hawkeye, it would not work. Because the only hero who looks at the stars in that way is Captain America/Steve Rogers; very few of the other heroes would be able to do it, and even they would fall short of the gravitas he adds to this picture.
Not that I think Marvel would not try to have them do it, mind you; I just know the attempt would fail. I could hope for it to backfire in their faces spectacularly, but I already know that does not learn ‘em. To paraphrase Albert Einstein, “The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again while expecting a different result.” Marvel is repeating its mistakes over and over again, while expecting a different result.
We live in a crazy world that is always on the brink of falling apart, readers. I know that. I just wish that there were not quite so many of us going crazy right along with it, destroying so many good things as we go. This picture – this understanding of Captain America and Marvel Comics which the writers once had…it was a good thing. It is too sad that their heirs and maybe even some of the original writers themselves threw it all away in an attempt to be “hip” to get in the good graces of the in-crowd.
In the interest of ending this post on a happy note, readers, please take another look at the photo before you leave. Feel free to copy it, if you like. But whether you do or do not, please, look at it one more time. Look at it and remember it. Look at it and remember the Latin word for “ever higher”: Excelsior. Look at it, and remember your own dreams.
Let’s try to keep reaching ever higher, readers. Even if it is just a little bit higher than before, a little is better than nothing at all.
Normally I keep all my private and personal affairs just that: private and personal. But something very bizarre occurred the other day, and I have got to know if I am the only pet owner on the planet who has ever had this happen!
Almost two years ago I purchased a red betta fish. I named him Clifford after the character in the children’s TV show, Clifford the Big Red Dog. He was a great little pet, and I initially kept him outside. Eventually, though, he became an indoor fish, and I really enjoyed his company.
Unfortunately, I gave him too much TLC; that is, I overfed him. He died, so I bought a replacement after a while, another red betta. I called him Red because it was simple and easy, and it would not make me feel like I was replacing my last pet in every detail.
I had Red for two to four weeks before he decided he wanted a better view of the room and jumped out of the tank to expire on my carpet. If I had been present when this happened, I would have saved him, but I was out most of the day that he decided to take the leap and croak on the floor. When I got back I thought I had an enormous bug on my carpet, until I turned on the light and saw it was actually my dried-up pet fish.
After a week or two, I decided to give owning a Siamese fighting fish another chance. I purchased another red betta. Feeling that this fish might not last any longer than my previous ones, I gave him the tongue-in-cheek name Crimson Typhoon. For those of you who have not seen Pacific Rim, Crimson Typhoon is the name of the Chinese Jaeger which dies within five minutes of entering a battle onscreen. I figured that if this little guy was going to croak as fast as the others, he ought to be aptly named.
But I have had Typhoon for nearly a year, and so far he had been doing fine. That is, he was doing fine until yesterday morning.
At some point in the early morning or late that night, I heard a noise. Not one to go poking around after things that go bump in the night, I tried to place the sound and decided at last that what I had heard was an annoying songbird which has been hanging around the window screens for most of the month. When I got up later on, the first thing I did was go to check on and then feed my fish.
But my fish was not swimming around the tank. My first thought was a French word, followed by the notion that he had died and was at the bottom of the tank somewhere. Then I got closer and saw him stuck between the lip of the glass tank and a cone I had had made to keep him from committing suicide in the same way that Red had.
More French words followed this discovery, and I began trying to figure out how I would get him loose so I could bury him. As I began trying to shift the cone, that stupid fish moved!
Once he flapped against the plastic, I recognized the sound I had heard in the night and nearly cursed my own stupidity for not knowing it sooner. I desperately freed him from his confinement and, catching him as he flopped about on the table, dropped him back inside the tank. As I did, I knocked over the cone which had been erected to keep him safe, though he had managed to find a way to thwart my protective measures.
I was furious and I let him have it, shouting at him and calling him a stupid fish. The poor little guy was so traumatized from his night out of water that he had clamped fins, and for a while, I thought I had pulled them off in trying to free him. His tail had already lost some of its feathery parts, and I was horrified at the idea that he would be a cripple for the rest of his likely to be short future. Luckily, he moved both his side fins after a time and I realized they were still attached.
Not trusting him to stay in his tank, which I had been planning to clean that day anyway, I pulled him out and put him in a container until the tank could be cleaned and new security measures put in place. All day I berated him for scaring me half to death, though I also thanked God he had not died in the middle of the night. I do not know how long he has left in this cruel world, though, and that is why I have written this post.
Readers, I cannot be the only betta owner on the planet who has had this sort of thing occur. I just cannot be the only one. It is not possible.
The tank I keep Typhoon has the approximate volume of a milk jug. It is made of glass and it does not include any sort of filtration system. It is open to the air, which I why I have put a lid on it after this pet rescue. The lid is of a thin plastic with lots of holes punched in it so that Typhoon can breathe. (Bettas need to have filtrated or open air tanks, since they do not take all of their oxygen straight from the water.) Because his tank is near a window, I bought a Tetra submersible heater for him. It is supposed to heat two to fifteen gallon tanks and it seems to work just fine.
I also have a moss ball in the tank to supply extra oxygen for him as well. I was hoping it would serve as a fish bed, too, but Typhoon usually ignored it as such until recently. There is gravel in the bottom, covered by decorative glass pebbles. I am going to feed him a green pea soon, as research I did said this was healthy for bettas and helped keep them regular.
Please let me know I am not the only owner of a Siamese fighting fish who had to rescue it from a near suicide attempt!!!!
The Mithril Guardian
At your service!
P.S. My moss ball has a tendency to float after I squeeze it out when cleaning the tank and put it back in the water. Has this occurred with anyone else?