Welcome to the 20th annual Wriphe.com Superman Month! What a nice, round, mature number.

This time last year, DC Comics was celebrating the impending release of their latest Superman movie with the "Summer of Superman" publishing initiative. One year later, Superman is literally nowhere to be seen in the DC Universe. Earlier this year, the Man of Steel won a tournament to the death and then disappeared from existence. His comic books are still being published with various children in his stead in a storyline that DC is calling "Reign of the Superboys." DC tells us it is selling very well, but the Superman fans I know don't seem very enthusiastic. I don't blame them. Who wants to pay $5 for a comic that doesn't feature their titular hero?

"Who wants to pay $5 for a comic?" I hear you asking. You make a good point. But this month is about Superman, not the economics of nostalgia.

I also hear some of you you asking, "Who cares about Superman?" I do, for one, and not just for nostalgic reasons. Superman might be a morally inflexible overgrown boy scout in bright pajamas, but at my advancing age, I increasingly enjoy the company of strong characters who still believe that Truth, Justice, and the American Way aren't all mutually incompatible.

Superman: The Man of Steel #80, June 1998

Yeah, he can be a bit preachy. Nobody's perfect.

Comments (0) | Leave a Comment | Permalink | Tags: comic books superman

40/2610. The Naked Gun (2025)
Do you remember how they used to say that Airplane! ruined Leslie Neilson's career? Will this do the same for Liam Neeson's post-Taken money train? In any case, it's a worthy successor to the Zucker/Abrams/Zucker originals (superior, even to 33-1/3), but it stuck in my craw that this movie that does not shy away from poking many other influences with a sharp stick never mentions the fact that it's core plot is essentially the same as The Kingsman.

54/2624. Take This Job and Shove It (1981)
It so happens that I watched this about a month before David Allen Coe died, and I'm glad I did so that I had that mental reference when reading his obituary. The film suffers from a weak budget and some rather obvious re-editing, presumably to make a messy script work, but I'm happy to say it's plenty of fun as a silly working-class comedy of its era.

Although Take This Job and Shove It is drenched in beer, there's still time for the Pause that Refreshes! I suspect the Coca-Cola soda fountain in the background of one of the protagonist's many internal struggles between his professional and personal ideologies was already installed in the shooting location as opposed to paid product placement, but much of the plot is made of the cultural value of American brands (which I found somewhat ironic in an age where Budweiser is owned by a Belgian conglomerate), so it's possible that this obvious bit of background imagery could be intended by the director as an intentional, somewhat subtle in the context of the film, reinforcement of the Good Ol' USA.

41/2611. Alice Doesn't Live Here Anymore (1974)
TCM airs this all the time, so I finally made myself watch it. I'm glad I did. It's very good, an atypical Scorsese movie that proves he's capable of so much more than just gangster films.

Speaking of questionable product placement, there's no way that the Coca-Cola Company approved their IP being used in a gory death scene, which reinforces that the dead man being a lazy Coca-Cola delivery driver was probably a choice by Scorsese to dramatize the pitfalls of the commercialization of the American Dream, a key element in spurring Alice's Campbellian hero's journey of self discovery. In other words, the journey of a thousand miles begins with a (bloody) Coke!

42/2612. Operation Crossbow (1965)
A pre-cursor to the formula perfected by The Dirty Dozen, the Brits and Americans work together on a suicide mission to scuttle the German rocket program. Sophia Loren gets top billing for a small and completely pointless part that exists only to attract (and, I'm sure, disappoint) her fans.

More to come.

Comments (0) | Leave a Comment | Permalink | Tags: coke movies

The NFL has released its 2026 schedule, and to give you an idea of how bad they expect the Miami Dolphins to be, the League and its media partners have scheduled the team for exactly zero primetime games. Neither have they scheduled the team for any of the nine international games nor five holiday day games. The Dolphins will only play on Sunday afternoons between 1 and 4PM, where discriminating viewers can choose to look away.

In addition, the NFL has told Dolphins ownership that their stadium is no longer eligible for future Super Bowls because changes to the area since 2020 do not leave adequate "room for hospitality events around the stadium." Which sounds to me like a polite way of saying they don't want people to have to spend any more time than is strictly necessary participating in NFL football in Miami.

As a longtime Dolphins watcher, let me say: I strongly agree with them.

I have a whole category of posts here on my website under the heading "dolphins quarterbacks suck," but even by 21st-century Dolphins standards, the 2026 squad looks uninspiring. Quinn Ewers, Mark Gronowski, Cam Miller, and Malik Willis: If you recognize two of them, you watch far too much football, and I encourage you to seek professional help. Based on what I've seen so far, I suspect that only Ewers will be memorable, and only then as the answer to the trivia question "Who was the quarterback at Texas before Arch Manning?"

I think it's right kind of the NFL to spare its viewers from the nail-biting contest to find out which of them gets to be the one the Dolphins bench for whomever the team selects in next year's draft. Will I be hate-watching the 2026 Dolphins only to see if Arch replaces Quinn again? Signs point to yes.

Comments (0) | Leave a Comment | Permalink | Tags: dolphins dolphins quarterback suck football nfl

The headline in today's The Athletic begins: "Ted Ginn, Jr, ex-NFL receiver and UFL coach...". Ted Ginn Jr? Now that's a name I've not heard in a long time. A long time.

Ginn, for those of you who haven't wasted the past few decades following the rotting corpse of a once great football team called the Miami Dolphins, was the 9th overall pick in the 2007 draft. He played his college football for Ohio State, where he set a record for scoring on punt returns. I presume that's why GM Randy Mueller (who had been installed as something of a figurehead GM during Nick Saban's head coaching tenure only to find himself in over his head when Saban abruptly skipped town) drafted Ginn as high as he did. Ginn had great foot speed but hands of stone. He was an immediate bust.

I happened to be in the stands when Ginn finally scored his first NFL punt return touchdown following the Eagles' opening drive in week 11. The Dolphins were to that point winless on the season, and I had already soured on Ginn. My brother, an Eagles fan, knew it. So when Ginn scored, he immediately taunted me with "Who's your fav-rit play-er? Ted Gin Jun-ior!" He would repeat that whenever Ginn's name came up in NFL broadcasts in the following years.

Admittedly, the 2007 coach and roster Mueller assembled didn't do Ginn any favors. (Can you name any of the three quarterbacks who started for the Dolphins in 2007? There will be a quiz later.) But after just three years in Miami, he was traded to the 49ers. Thereafter, he spent equally short terms with the Panthers, Cardinals, Panthers (again), Saints, and Bears. That's actually a pretty good career by NFL standards, and he wouldn't be widely considered as a bust if he hadn't been drafted so high by a team that needed so much help.

Anyway, all that is what I think of when I read the rest of that headline: "...arrested on DWI charge in Texas." I have to say that it's nice to know that some things don't change. Nearly twenty years later, Ted Ginn, Jr. continues to disappoint.

Pop quiz, hot shot! The Miami Dolphins 2007 quarterbacks: Trent Green (5 starts), Cleo Lemon (7 starts), John Beck (4 starts). Lemon was the only QB on the roster when Ginn was drafted. Later-career Trent Green was signed in June on a one-year deal to shore up a terrible roster. John Beck was the rookie QB taken after Ginn with the 40th overall pick, after JaMarcus Russell, Brady Quinn, and Kevin Kolb. There's a reason 2007 is considered one of the all time worst QB classes.

Comments (0) | Leave a Comment | Permalink | Tags: dear diary dolphins dolphins quarterbacks suck family football news nfl ted ginn jr trey

The human brain is a strange thing. I was trying to take a shower, but I couldn't stop thinking about the handful of people in my life I know I treated very badly, by which I mean specifically the people I treated badly who didn't deserve it.

I know I'm a selfish asshole, always have been, and, frankly, I'm generally okay with that. Other people, even people I know quite well, often make me uncomfortable, and I self-defensively want to keep them at arms length. As any good dog will tell you, the best way to do that is to growl and bark at anyone on the other side of the fence. But in the past half century, there have been a few people, about five I can name easily, who did not earn the behavior I showed them.

I'm bothered by the lingering concern that that my actions likely caused them discomfort and lasting emotional damage. That sounds narcissistic, doesn't it? That I could have the power to so strongly influence their lives for the worse? I hope not. Obviously they should never have given me such power, but more importantly, if they did, I shouldn't have taken advantage of it. Shame on me. I wish I had the skill and emotional stability to have communicated better.

In the movie Billy Madison, an older, wiser Billy (played by Adam Sandler) calls his former bullying victim (played by Steve Buscemi) and apologizes for past actions. I'm not going to do that. While I regret my past behavior and those I have wronged probably deserve an apology, I don't think any good can come from my investigating old wounds. I'm not in any twelve-step program. (I know how those apologies typically go.) And, more importantly, I still don't have the skill and emotional stability to communicate better. If Steve Buscemi is going to shoot anyone, it might as well be me.

There. I feel better for having typed that. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a shower to finish.

Comments (0) | Leave a Comment | Permalink | Tags: walter

Look, I love Benson Boone's "Mystical Magical" as much as the next guy, but after hearing it in every commercial break since ESPN's coverage of the U.S. Open used it for intro and outro bumpers in August through this week's NFL coverage, maybe there is such a thing as overexposure.

I'm not alone in thinking that. There is, Google assure me, a pretty sizable backlash to the rapid, overt commercialization of Mr. Boone's music. Selling out is fine in America; greed, not so much. The singer and his team are aware of this, and his music video for "Mr. Electric Blue" makes a good-natured joke of it by removing any hint of the hypocrisy that pollutes the modern zeitgeist. (Yes, despite being an old fogey who doesn't really care for music, I do watch music videos on YouTube as the Internet Gods intended. The old-school media's widely reported recent death of Music Television has been greatly exaggerated; music videos are not dead, linear television is.)

It's kind of a funny thing to say that you could hear any piece of music "too much." Despite the tendency of human beings (at least American human being) to resent the familiar, there are a bunch of songs I just never get tired of hearing. Back in the day when I was a waiter at Chili's, the chain played tapes of licensed music over and over until the entire wait staff would gather around the back office cassette player and argue over which tapes management was NOT allowed to play again that day. (No tapes were ever destroyed, but some were occasionally hidden. I hope they still haven't been found.) Despite the repetition, there was one song on those tapes that I could never get sick of. I bet you'd never guess that it was "Silly Love Songs" by Wings. Live and let die, indeed.

Several Paul McCartney songs, both with and without co-writer John Lennon, are high on my list of endless listening, which probably demonstrates that I have a high tolerance for what McCartney is interested in writing: the poppiest of pop music. Fizzy, friendly, sugary pop music. Overproduced sounds that have a good beat and you can dance to, lyrics that really shouldn't be thought about too hard. That's my jam. Music crafted to please the widest possible music-illiterate crowd, "Moonbeam ice cream" sort of stuff, like Dua Lipa, Katie Perry, Madonna, Michael Jackson, or, say, Olivia Newton John.

And please crowds they do. Why else would Madison Avenue adapt catchy tunes for advertising in Apple product ads or the memorable '90s Philips campaign that used the Beatles "Getting Better" (somehow always fading out just before the "it can't get no worse" refrain) or this year's sanitized-for-Christmas "Greased Lightnin'" (with zero creaming girls) or Target's 2025 commercials of their animated Get-Ready Yeti dancing to "Mystical Magical."

Okay, fine. I'm not sick of moonbeam ice cream just yet. 'Cause once you know, once you know...

Comments (0) | Leave a Comment | Permalink | Tags: advertising dear diary music

In an apt metaphor for America in 2025,¹ I'm ending the year trying to find a bandage that will stick and cover the self-inflicted wound to my scrotum.²

¹ You know what I mean. I have actively tried to avoid posting about current events this year because I've been trying to keep my attention on things that don't make me miserable. The results have been mixed. I've been through four 1.75 liter bottles of Kaluha.

² It's not what you think, unless you think I intentionally stabbed myself with a pointy object. I nicked a tiny skin tag with scissors. Maybe I *should* shave; band-aids would adhere better.

Comments (0) | Leave a Comment | Permalink | Tags: fuck you america holidays new years walter

In the Year of the Pandemic, 2020, "friend" Keith gifted me a copy of the video game The Witcher 3: Wild Hunt for PC. Keith likes it very, very much. I did not like either the first or second Witcher games, and after playing for a grand total of 6 hours, I decided I liked The Witcher 3 just as little. This is how I summed up that first experience for him back then:

So far there's only 1) a lot of talking with a bunch of characters who are all fucking assholes I want to kill (especially protagonist Geralt), and 2) me getting my ass handed to me (which isn't entirely unsatisfying because it means Gerald has died too).

Sounds like I had fun, no? But for various reasons, including a new and deep appreciation for another game from the same studio, Cyberpunk 2077, and the lingering doubt that I hadn't given it a fair enough shake the first time around, I decided I'd try Witcher 3 again on the Xbox this past week. My mistake. I made it a full 8 hours this time.

If you're unfamiliar, the game is 33% guiding your obtuse horse through bleak war-ravaged countryside modeled on the original Grimm brothers fairy tales (you know, the ones where witches pick their teeth with the bones of sugar-glazed abandoned children), 33% talking to assholes, and 33% being ambushed combat. I'll admit up front that even on the console I'm still bad at the combat. Very bad. Literally every type of enemy I have encountered in the game has killed me at least once. Some of them have killed me three, four, or more times. I'd finally had enough when the game sent me to a cave to be ambushed by a little goblin and his evil magic shadow... who together proceeded to kill me eight times in a row. With enough effort, I'm sure I could find the right tactics to eventually kill him (just like I eventually survived the mob of bandits who ambushed and killed me nine times in a row) and be rewarded with information on how to make killing him easier in future encounters. But I could get as much enjoyment from slamming my fingers in a car door, and I certainly don't look forward to whatever trick the game is planning to use to kill me next.

The only up side to this is that it appears to be a shared experience; if you Google reviews of this game, they will universally mention the lackluster and frustrating combat mechanics. That's definitely a feature, not a bug.

So if you're not supposed to play this "adventure" game for the killing, what's left? Those same reviews, including Keith's, universally applaud the storytelling. I cannot agree. Maybe I've never gotten deep enough into Geralt's quest to piss off everyone he meets, but I cannot buy in. Granted, this is a common Walter problem, especially with movies; I don't like spending any time with unpleasant characters. Does the story get great if I make it to the end? Sadly, like the number of licks it takes to get to the center of a Tootsie Pop, I'll never know.

Related side note: The characters most relevant to the story are all physically attractive (compared to most NPCs, who look like lepers who bathe in pig shit). And the cutscenes are frequently constructed with a pornographer's eye for finding ways to show these attractive characters naked. (I've never seen so many bare breasts in a video game that wasn't specifically about bare breasts.) Therefore, I'm suspicious that many of these glowing story reviews are influenced by something other than shallow characterization and the repetitive "fetch quest" plotting.

Now, I've been playing video games since before the country's first pandemic (1981's "Pac-Man Fever") which means I've played a lot of games. Maybe I'm getting soft in my old age, but with so many games available, I don't understand why anyone would spend the time to get better at this one. Keith, I don't know who hurt you badly enough that you find this kind of torture entertaining (you do know that the Internet is full of naked tits on demand, right?), but I'm done with The Witcher no matter how many they make.

Comments (0) | Leave a Comment | Permalink | Tags: friends keith video games

Following up on yesterday's post about the S-shield on Superman's cape: it has never appeared on any of the Superman balloons in the Macy's Thanksgiving Parade.

I previously posted about the very first Superman parade balloon from 1940 back in November 2008. That original balloon, used for only one year and record holder as the tallest balloon until 1982, had a loose red cape that came down just to the seat of its pants. The second Superman balloon (a particularly ugly one with a round chest) debuted in 1966, and its cape was a little longer but just as solid red. The third Superman balloon, the largest balloon since WWII and the one I painted in 2020, entered the parade in 1980, and despite several mishaps, flew each year until 1987. This last one also had a solid red cape, though it was a horizontal "flying" pose, so the back was never seen from street level.

The parade balloons are expensive to create and fill with helium (though the people who walk them through downtown Manhattan are all unpaid volunteers), so it shouldn't come as a surprise that the balloons that make the annual cut are the ones that Macy's can make money on. That was true even in 1940, when Macy's had a sponsorship deal with National Periodicals to produce exclusive Superman merchandise, as you can see from this advertisement from page 21 of the May 16, 1940, edition of the New York Daily News:

If you look at those illustrations of Superman, the S-shield is clearly visible on his cape. However, the "playsuit" that Macy's sold to kids, not so much. It was just a solid red sheet with a comics-inaccurate blue drawstring. (The pants featured pictures of Superman around the waist, so comics accuracy was clearly not a big concern.)

For the record, the very first Superman to ever appear in a parade was Ray Middleton, who dressed the part as the Metropolis Marvel for "Superman Day" on July 3 at the 1940 New York World's Fair. The event was created to promote the New York World's Fair Comic 1940 Issue featuring Superman (and Batman and Robin!). In the comic, Superman very clearly has a shield on his cape, but Middleton's costume didn't. If the "real" Superman had a solid red cape, the kids at Macy's couldn't be too disappointed.

Comments (0) | Leave a Comment | Permalink | Tags: comic books history holidays superman thanksgiving worlds fair

As I usually find when I already have an inkling of the correct answer, Google's AI response is wrong. (Is it ever right? What's the point of having access to the accrued knowledge of the human race if you never actually read it?)

I've read a lot of Superman comics, and I know that Superman has a yellow S-shield on a cape. However, I'll grant that not a lot of people actually read comic books anymore, Google apparently included. I'll also grant that Superman's cape in the influential 1940s animated Fleisher Studio cartoons was solid red (to make the animation easier and less costly), a trend that has been followed often in animated adaptations for similar reasons. But every live-action adaptation since Kirk Alyn's 15-part 1948 Superman serial has an S-shield on his cape. Maybe Google needs to watch more television.

Google's obviously wrong answer sent me looking through old comics for the real answer to my question of its first appearance, and the earliest I could find the cape shield in my copies of The Superman Chronicles reprints was in the historically significant¹ untitled Superman story² in Action Comics #13, cover dated June 1939, published on April 14, 1939.

Here's a sample panel, easily found in a Google Search™ (once I knew what I was looking for):

And, as if I needed any further confirmation, here are the issue's indexer notes from the fantastic (and Google-able) Grand Comics Database (GCD), online at comics.org since 1994:

The "S" symbol first appears on Superman's cape. ... Paul Cassidy is credited with adding the "S" symbol to the cape (but it only appears in some panels and not others), and the pencils and inks here look like his work. Note in particular the odd flying poses of Superman in panels one and five of the final page, which are characteristic of Cassidy. He claimed that [Superman creators Jerry] Siegel and [Joe] Shuster gave both he and Wayne Boring free reign to interpret the scripts as they liked.

Old school library for the win. Why did you make that so hard, Google?

¹ Action Comics #13 is most famous for being the first appearance of Superman's first recurring super villain: a bald criminal mastermind who vowed to "use this great intellect for crime" who called himself The Ultra-Humanite. (What, did you think it was Lex Luthor? That second-rate knock-off wouldn't show up for another 12 months.)

² The original publication has no printed title, which is not uncommon at the time. Modern reprints often refer this story as "Superman vs. the Cab Protective League," named for a protection racket organized by, you guessed it, the Ultra-Humanite. His criminal genius obviously didn't extend to naming things.

Comments (0) | Leave a Comment | Permalink | Tags: comic books google superman