Normally I walk to work, but it was raining (well, drizzling) this morning, which required I get in my car in drive. Good thing I hadn’t had my morning bourbon yet! Did I type “bourbon”? I meant coffee. Coffee with bourbon.

Anyway, I got to work, and who should I see in the parking garage but my good buddy Christopher Lambert! (“Christopher Lambert” is not my friend’s real name, but I won’t presume it’s okay to just put his name on my widely read* blog without his permission… and I just don’t want to ask for his permission.)

He was sitting there with the car running, and my first thought was, “Oh crap… Christopher Lambert wants to go gently into the night, even though it’s the morning!”

I walked up to him and explained that the parking garage was way too large and ventilated for what he appeared to be doing to work. He explained that that was not what he was doing at all, but that he was instead getting an odometer reading for his car insurance since he moved and — oh shit, I need to change my address with MY insurance. Wait, where was I… ?

So, anyway, I tell him to hurry his ass up and get out of the car. How long does it take to write down a few numbers? And why did the car have to be on to do it? Christopher Lambert doesn’t make any sense half the time.

He gets out of the car to follow me to our awesome  day jobs, closing his door as — oh crap. “Did I really just do that?” Christopher Lambert asks, billy goat eyes wide, face full of terror.

I look at his car, headlights pointlessly on (really, why did he have those on to check his odometer?), engine humming. “Do you have a spare key?”

Christopher Lambert said he did… at his apartment… and his apartment keys were with his now trapped car key. I made some other dismissed suggestions as Dan Cortese (named, for the purposes of this story here, after the famed MTV SPORTS host in order to protect the real individual’s name à la Christopher Lambert) parked near us. I innocently asked Dan Cortese if he had “breaking into car skills,” which Christopher Lambert deemed racist. Whatever he was commenting on didn’t occur to me, as, to me, there is but one race: the human race. (And dolphins. So maybe two races.)

Anyway, Dan Cortese didn’t know about breaking into cars, and Christopher Lambert was freaking out. I felt guilty, as my talking to him had probably caused Christopher Lambert to stupidly close his locked door with his keys still in the ignition of his running car. It was all my fault, and soon Christopher Lambert would realize it and guilt me into having a terrible day. Just a terrible, awful day.

But then Christopher Lambert’s face changed from a look of despair to one of triumph! “I have a spare car key in my jacket in my cube upstairs!” This was a great moment and one deserving of a hi five even as Christopher Lambert needlessly elaborated that he was going to wear his hoodie but instead wore the jacket in which he always keeps a spare car key.

After he’d used his spare key to turn off his car, he came to the realization I knew he would: this whole fiasco was essentially my fault. Thinking fast, I lied that this had all been part of my plan. I came upon a man who looked broken and inept at suicide. Though this was not the case, I continued on as if it was, for to see the light, one must sometime travel to the depths of the dark… I knew he’d end up locking his key in his car! I knew it’d cause moments of panic and fear! BUT I ALSO KNEW that he had a spare key, which he’d realize hopefully before tears started welling up in his puppy dog eyes!

This day would now be the greatest day he’d ever known. A day that started with triumph out of adversity. And I’d insisted I’d knowingly given it to him.

Okay, now I have to call my car insurance company, a company I’ll call, oh, All State (not really, but I want to protect my insurance company’s name instead of asking it for permission to mention it here), to change my address.

*Untrue. Quite the opposite in fact. – Truth Police

Check it out, heroes:

D.J. Kirkbride is an editor on all four volumes of the Eisner and Harvey award winning POPGUN anthology from Image Comics. He also wrote “Soulless, Man Without A Soul” stories for POPGUN volumes 1 and 2 and with Adam P. Knave co-wrote “Agents of the W.T.F.” and “The Black Decahedron” for volumes 3 and 4. His book of ninja poetry, DO YOU BELIEVE IN NINJAS?, was recently released by Creative Guy Publishing.

I’m really looking forward to this, especially since I’ll be sharing my table with my friend and fellow POPGUN contributor, the amazingly talented Robert Love! We’ll also be around all sorts of other POPGUN pals, so it should be good times!

If you’re going to the con, please stop by our table. I’ll have copies of all four volumes of POPGUN, a bunch of DO YOU BELIEVE IN NINJAS?, and some friendly chatting!

Your pal… D.J.

If you answered “yes” to the three questions in the subject line, swing by Golden Apple Comics on Melrose. There are many terrific reasons to go there, but I’m posting this right now because they have copies of my ninja poetry book “Do You Believe In Ninjas?” from Creative Guy Publishing in stock. The book is a weird little thing — not a spoof or a goof, just kinda goofy and spoofy … not really spoofy. It also features delightful illustrations from Chris Moreno. Honestly, you should own it.

If you are not able to make it to Golden Apple, you can always order the book on the Amazons dot coms.

Why a review of The Adjustment Bureau when it’s been out for almost a month now? Because I just saw it and a smart person suggested I do a review of it when I was complaining I didn’t write enough, that’s why. As to why I saw it so late, well, I get these free movie passes from donating blood platelets, and they only get me into movies that have been out a while. It was between this and Rango, which I also would like to see, but The Adjustment Bureau‘s show time was more convenient for me.

So, with that kinda need to see and passion, I was in for a superlative movie-going time. But first I had to get popcorn. This is where they get me, because, yeah, the movie is free, but now I’m spending money on popping corn, and, oh, gotta get soda to wash that down. Now we’re at $9.50 for a movie I only kinda want to see, and only then if it’s free. Oh well. I like popcorn.

Actually, I did want to see The Adjustment Bureau when I first started adds and cool billboards for it started popping up everywhere. I like the title and the Twilight Zone feel the movie seemed to have. Plus, what a swell cast. Matt Damon is swell, even if I always hope he’ll whip out some Jason Bourne moves in movies even when it’s not appropriate, Emily Blunt is lovey (and talented, but I’m a superficial bastard), and, c’mon! It’s got not only Roger Sterling, but General Zod as members of the sharply dressed title characters! (Yes, the dashingly silver haired actors who play Sterling and Zod have real names. Yes, I know what they are. No, I don’t want to call them by anything other than Sterling and Zod.)

Look, so, this is a review, right? There are going to be some spoilers. Nothing major, but if you don’t want anything about a month-old movie ruined for you, stop reading. You have been warned.

Anyway, Damon is this smooth talking, earnest, genuinely decent though sometimes rough around the edges fella with a tragic past who wants to be a senator. Blunt is a pretty dancer lady. They meet cute after Damon loses an election, and her playfulness and love of life or whatever rubs off on him, inspiring him to give a candid concession speech that makes him more popular than ever and a shoo-in for the next election. That’s the last they’re supposed to see of each other. Then chance or whatever sets in, and they meet again. And again.

The Adjustment Bureau, who might be kinda angels (and their unseen boss, “The Chairman,” might as well be God), don’t want these two crazy kids to get together because it’s not part of the mysterious plan, which is cooly represented in their journals as some kinda animated maze-lick schematic or something. So, basically, this becomes a sci fi romance of “will they or won’t they”? shenanigans versus fate or God or whatever.

There are some great themes, nice performances, and a good visual style. Unfortunately, the film’s score and soundtrack seemed… inappropriate to me. The score, by Thomas Newton, had a vaguely 80s action movie or drama feel. I barely remember it now, but at the time it did get in the way of my viewing pleasure. And then, at the end, during this go for broke chase scene involving cool Adjustment Bureau-y secret modes of travel and hats and running, they have a remix of the song “Fever,” which was just… weird. To me, anyway. Maybe it’s a bold choice that I just don’t get.

Aside from this weird soundtrack hang up I have, the movie is pretty fun. Questions of free will versus fate are always intriguing to me, and they’re presented well here. There’s some real tension and interesting twists. Damon and Blunt’s relationship is mostly believable, though Blunt’s character sometimes falls into the manic pixie dream girl trap. She’s very poised and smart, but at one point she drops Damon’s phone in a cup of coffee, and then later she “cutely” punches him in the stomach to win a playful race. Ladies, please don’t get ideas here. No matter how cute you are, most fellas will get justifiably pissed if you ruin their phones or gut check them.

The Adjustment Bureau folks themselves are all snazzy dressers who work out of a very nice office built with fine mahogany. They’re very similar to The Watchers on Fringe, but with hair and more personality, so they’re cool in different ways. Proceedings get kinda corny at various points right up to the end when it, but, all in all, it’s worth a viewing.

This has been D.J.’s just writing for the sake of writing something review of… The Adjustment Bureau!

I like to sometimes pretend I know karate. No, I don’t go doing karate moves or breaking bricks with a chop of my hand or kicking things. I just like to tell people I know karate.

Looking at me, one does not normally think, “Whoa. I am talking to a karate master. This big, doughy, pale yet red-nosed fellow is a master of karate. I should tread lightly.” The most common thought is more like, “This guy clearly enjoys fried foods and cheese. He should take better care of his insides.”

When that type of thinking, true as it may be, fills my brain, I decide I’d like to pretend I’m learning karate. It’s a subtle difference, but it’s a smaller kind of lie or, if I don’t blatantly say it aloud, gentle self-delusion.

Fooling myself into thinking I’m the kind of guy who is taking it upon himself to learn the ancient and understandably feared art of karate helps me walk a little taller. At 6’3″ walking taller might seem a bit excessive, but it helps my posture. And I look like a goon when I slouch, which is unfortunately often.

Yes, like millions (thousands?) of people on this earth, I could actually learn karate. The only thing stopping me from doing so is my own laziness. But that laziness makes me who I am. And who I am is a big lazy guy who thinks it’d be cool to know karate even if I’m too lazy to actually study karate and… try.

The ending doesn’t read as positive as I’d hoped.