Funny thing; I never much cottoned to the relentlessly influential Bauhaus, but I really love Peter Murphy’s solo music.

From NIN.com: Peter Murphy, Trent Reznor, & company performing a classic of Murphy’s back catalogue.

Considering that Marvel seemed mortally wounded at the beginning of the decade, it’s amazing that they managed to turn their fortunes around such a short time. Their success in movie and direct-to-video markets certainly made them an attractive acquisition.

I’m curious to know if Disney has actually read any Marvel comics lately. Sure, Disney doesn’t limit themselves to family fare, but they may be surprised at what their new subsidary actually puts out month after month.

Now that we’ve had time to process Michael Jackson’s death, I’ve noticed that the image of him I see the most is from his Thriller years. I can’t help but think of Elvis Presley and how whenever we want to remember the King of Rock and Roll fondly, without snark or snideness, we remember his youthful years when he still seemed like a nice, polite Southern kid who would sing and make back-to-back movies. I understand the temptation to make Jackson seem eternally young (and at the very least, less ghoulish) but I find it interesting as he ascends to pop-cultural demi-godhood that we would like to remember Jackson as the very image he tried to scrub away with plastic surgery.

However, health insurance premiums are no longer affordable; health insurance policies aren’t reliable; patients (all of us) are paying more and more of these exorbitant healthcare costs out of pocket; coverage is being flat-out denied; and health insurance corporations are making larger profits and executives are raking in larger salaries.

Bob Cesca makes an apt comparison between insurance companies and a different organization.

I’ve really wanted to comment more on the ongoing healthcare debate, but I’ve managed to hold back ever time I attempt to post. Some great commentary can be found with Bob Cesca and Matt Taibbi, so I often feel like I’m just doing a “Yeah, what they said!” post. But what I really think is making me hesitant is that I am starting to feel like the craziness is contagious.

I work for a large corporation, so my health care seems decent, although it’s tough to know for sure because I’ve stayed largely healthy (I can vouch for my vision plan, which has been great to someone with bad eyes). My self-employed friends, by contrast, have been wringing their hands and praying that they can get through the year. The healthcare issue is volatile because a lot of people, on both sides of the political aisle, feel unsafe. There is a lot of fear going around and most of the news is simply throwing more gasoline on the fire.

With fully armed protesters showing up to town hall meetings, something is bound to explode.

Perhaps that is why Obama and the Democrat-controlled Congress are pulling the teeth out of reform before something tragic happens. The problem is, the tragedy has already struck, with millions lacking any sort of health coverage at all and many others having private coverage that is completely inadequate. People are dying, just not in bloody revolution on the streets.

From The Atlantic’s web site (with a tip of the hat to Metafilter); a lengthy essay by David Goldhill that is measured and personal called How American Health Care Killed My Father.

A Korean designer presents a proof-of-concept design of a pen that mimics Photoshop’s eyedropper tool.

Life, meet art.

I didn’t love Penny Arcade at first. I’m definitely not the target audience regarding video games and I was put off by the off-kilter pacing and abrasive humor. The strip eventually grew on me as the artwork got more polished and the writing went from a surly mess to a biting wit. I’m still a bit lost regarding the gaming references, but I’m past caring at this point. The strip is a winner (and remains one of many examples why webcomics are beating the tar out of newspaper strips in both craft and relevancy).

Then creators Jerry Holkins and Mike Krahulik (under the respective pseudonyms Tycho Brahe and John Gabriel, also the names of their protagonists) brought their A-game.

Holkins and Krahulik have been know to interrupt their strip before. Although Penny Arcade eschews continuity, the strips are thematically similar, yet  once in a while, the normal acidic satire is replaced by something quiet and contemplative. Such jumps are rare in the newspaper-strip world, but Holkins and Krahulik like to shake things up on occasion. Witness a recent contest staged between three potential new strips not tied in to the regular Penny Arcade feature. The fans voted and the winner was the retro sci-fi Automata, a meditation on racism wrapped in the  stylings of noir and jazz.

Page One starts here, while Page Two is here, with the following four pages accessible by hitting the NEXT button.

If you aren’t careful, you might miss it. John Hughes made sure he didn’t miss a thing before he passed away.

John Hughes has his biggest success with the Home Alone series of movies but let’s be honest here. He will be best known as the premier director of many of the movies starring the Brat Pack, the crop of talented young actors coming into their careers during the Eighties.

Hughes’ movies are a staple of my generation, capturing their time in amber. He nailed the adolescent mindset, sometimes coming off as wish-fulfillment (as in most of the antics in Ferris Bueller’s Day Off) but often showing a deft touch in characterization (Charlie Sheen’s wisdom-dispensing, drug-addled punk from the same movie) and an ear for a complementary soundtrack. Many of the artists on Hughes’ soundtracks riddle my iPod’s playlists.

Methinks a number of Gen-Xers will be holding The Breakfast Club marathons in the near future.

Without giving away the ending of The Next Food Network Star, there may be a winner who looks to have an excellent cooking show debuting soon, but the runner-up is also a prize. Fine Living Channel, it’s your move.

Jon Stewart has been named the most trusted man in news and I’m a little depressed over this.

As a fan of The Daily Show and its faux-O’Reilly offspring The Colbert Report, I should be cheering Stewart and his ability to come across as a voice of reason amidst his barely disguised comedic outrage. Stewart and his talented pool of writers and performers have served the belly laughs like a teetering flapjack breakfast, jokes and zingers piled high, one atop the other. But as I’ve laughed away, I’ve come to a realization.

There is no right to information.

The choices on television are maddening: either the ranting of a badly informed foaming-at-the-mouth pundit with more opinion than common sense, or the chirpy patter of today’s Barbie-and-Ken newscasters. Network to network, it’s the same demented coin toss. They spill out, thanks to media consolidation, onto radio and print. The reasonable ones are rare and when you find one, you latch on to them like a lifeboat.

The waters have been successfully muddied. President Obama’s citizenship keeps getting questioned despite a thorough debunking. The public option for medical insurance, between insurance lobbyists and sympathetic lawmakers, is getting mugged in a DC alleyway. And the Wall Street bailout recipients simply gave themselves huge bonuses once the taxpayers rescued their foundering businesses. Despite the skullduggery, a good chunk of the population has still been convinced to slit their own throats.

This brings us back to Stewart and the amazing level of trust he inspires. The laughter is a relief for sure, but perhaps even better is someone simply saying:

This is happening now.