Can I be heretical for a moment? Cool, thanks.

I hate Wayne Gretzky.

Seriously, that guy bugs the heck out of me.

This isn’t a new development. He bugged me to death in the Sharks early years when they had to play him as a King all the time. If there was ever a player who lived off his superstar status, it was Wayne Gretzky. He would whine, he would moan, he would grumble and he would argue every little call, every minor mishap, every time anyone even looked at him funny. Finish a check against the “Great One”? Please, you’d grind the game to a halt for twenty minutes while ol’ whineypants took the refs to task for not ejecting the offending defenseman. That was, of course, if the refs didn’t give you a four minute hooking major for, like, brandishing the stick.

It would be nice if now that he’s all Mr. Face of Hockey that he seemed like a mellower kind of guy, humbled by his place in the pantheon of ice hockey.

Nope.

Now that he’s behind the bench he—I didn’t think this was actually possible—complains even more than he used to. Listen, the Sharks didn’t play magnificent hockey last night but they at least showed their usual discipline and managed to come out on top. The Coyotes played like their namesakes and cheated at just about every possible opportunity. The refs even let some calls go on them after a while because I’m sure they were tired of blowing their whistles (the game seemed to take forever). But you know who never got tired? Yep, The Great Crybaby never showed any signs of exhaustion as he screamed and griped and fired spittle on the backs of his players’ heads.

So since no one else seems to want to say it, allow me: “Hey Wayne! Shut up.”

Moore Weirdness

I’ve been on a graphic novel kick lately; probably because the lull of a moving train is too much for the car-sleeper/book-sleeper in me to resist. Confronted by the combination of a novel and engine noise during commute times I tend to nod off, drool on the pages and miss my stop. So I read less intellectually demanding stuff like comics to keep myself entertained while also awake.

Also, I really like comic books (Gasp! Something geeky that Paul likes! Say it ain’t so!) but that they have ramped up to $2.50 per monthly book is way more than I’m happy spending. Besides, comic books are like soap operas: They don’t end. Graphic novels, however, are usually complete narratives and are, comparatively, much cheaper. So I buy those.

The last two I’ve read were Alan Moore’s Watchmen and V For Vendetta. Of course I picked up V For Vendetta because the movie just came out and I wanted to read the source material first before seeing the film, especially since Moore has been so critical of the result.

After having read the two works he’s most famous for and reading a bunch of his interviews, I can say that I feel Moore may be a gifted writer but the man is just a flat-out weirdo. I mean, V For Vendetta is a pretty politically challenging story and I’m fairly impressed that the thing made it to the screen at all. If he expected them to accurately portray V as the full on nutcase anarchist that he is the books, he apparently has never bothered to cast even the most casually critical eye toward Hollywood. I mean, that’s just not how they work.

I get the indignation, but I think that generally speaking the whole “artistic integrity” thing is being blown out of proportion here. It’s perhaps one thing to say “This isn’t what I meant, if you want the real story, buy my book and throw me a couple bucks in the process.” If nothing else you can look at the movie as a perhaps effective if maybe misguided marketing vessel for the graphic novel (which I note comes in a hardcover version now). It’s another to say, “This isn’t what I meant, so I want my name taken off the book, I want to be distanced from the whole thing and I want you to act like I had nothing to do with any of it because my feelings are hurt.”

Whether Moore was tricked into signing away the rights to the story or not, he still signed them away. I can feel sorry for him but it becomes less so when he comes across as such a baby about it. Buck up, kid, us wistful aspiring writers should have such problems. I mean, I might cry for ten whole seconds if someone wanted to convert my writings into a movie so bad that they didn’t care whether I wanted it to be done or not. Sniff.

Of course, it isn’t just the grumpy compromised-vision interviewee that makes me realize the guy is bizarre, his stories are strong enough testament to that on their own. Not that they aren’t good; thought-provoking stories in a comic book format is something of a nerd holy grail and Moore definitely delivers there. But Moore is unique in that he seems to try to defy convention so much that he seems to try to have us sympathize with really vile individuals. Even V is clearly responsible for the deaths of hundreds of innocent people with his actions. His rationales are presented in abstract terms but Moore conveniently sidesteps any moral landmines by whitewashing over the fact that V’s bomb-happy master plot must logically involve substantial collateral damage.

Watchmen is a little different in that it is forced to deal openly with the problem of heroes (literal and literary in this case) who are merely human or even those who are anything but and therefore cannot sympathize with the human condition. This works on a level slightly above V For Vendetta but the examination needs some place to build to and when the curtain is lifted from the story bubbling beneath the intellectual and character examination it seems so farfetched and out from left field that it kind of feels like a grotesque kick in the head.

Which isn’t to say that either is ineffective: I enjoyed both very much. It’s a testament to the overall quality of the subplots that the major events are flawed but don’t make the ideas presented seem like foul-tasting medicine. Unlike watching Schindler’s List or Saving Private Ryan where the ideas and information presented are admirable but the exectution is so unpleasant as to prohibit any literal enjoyment or entertainment, Moore delicately walks the line and manages to stay just this side.

Still, I think my next graphic novel is going to be something even easier. Like a Plastic Man anthology or something.