Strolling Through Southwark...

As I mentioned yesterday, I really plan to make the most out of my remaining time here—apparently, I was determined to prove that point by going all out today! And what an amazing time I had!

I kicked off today by meeting my friend BC for coffee at LJ’s. She and I first met during my trip to Morocco and, like me, she’s an American studying abroad (in Ireland). We spent about 2 hours, just catching up and chatting about the similarities of our experience over caffeinated beverages and ginger bread.

Eventually it was time to part ways and so, after bidding one another adieu, I set off on the rest of my adventure. I’ve been meaning to spend some time in the Southwark area since arriving, but time and energy have simply not been on my side. Determined to rectify this situation, I started walking in that direction from Soho. En route, I made a brief stop at Forbidden Planet, a comic shop I had spotted earlier but hadn’t had time to check out.

Oh. My. Stan. Lee!

In the first few minutes of being there, I had multiple nerdgasms! They had absolutely everything this geek could want: there was a diorama of Yoda’s hut (inside and out, and perfectly sized for the Star Wars toys); statues of various action heroes and villains; a wall of everything Doctor Who related; plush comic book characters and action figures; loads of Star Trek stuff; and, of course, actual comics, books, and related films. 

Being on a tight budget, I restricted myself to two items. One of these was the first book from the Game of Thrones series—I’ve caught up on the television adaptation, and cannot wait to find out what happens, so I’m going to read ahead. The second item I bought was a two-disk She-Ra, Princess of Power DVD set. It’s basically the same ‘Secret of the Sword / Best of…’ set that we got in the states, but what caught my attention was the cover artwork: the Sorceress of Castle Grayskull was on there. Based on that alone (well, that and the £4 pricetag), I knew I had to have it! Imagine my further delighted surprise then, when I opened the pack and found that the disk images were the Sorceress and Shadow Weaver—my two favorite POP characters! #YAY!

Eventually I pulled myself away from Forbidden Planet, and resumed my journey to Southwark. 

Ultimately, I decided to go by the Tate Modern finally. Now, I should preface all of this by saying that I’m not the world’s biggest modern art fan. In fact, I’m not even the world’s biggest tepid modern art fan. Bottom line: I’m not a fan. But, I knew that I had to give it a shot, as the Tate Modern is one of the most famous art museums in existence. 

Gettin' my modern on...

I confess to enjoying it more than I expected to. The Powers that Be do a really good job of curetting the exhibits—for the most part, it’s really accessible, and ‘they’ provide the necessary historical and artistic insights that make these works of arts understandable to a wider audience. In doing so, they challenge the typical, alienating sense of religiosity and awe contained in most museum settings. I'm a huge fan of this demystification process!

The only downside is that this encourages people to bring their children. Not only is this inconvenient due to their sticky fingers and high-pitched squeals but, also, there’s nothing quite as awkward as realizing that a three year old is staring at you as you admire Paul Delvaux’s ‘Sleeping Venus’ in all her naked glory—‘cause you just know that little brat thinks you’re looking at Venus’ prominently displayed no-no parts when, in fact, you’re attention is drawn to the chick with the fierce red hair who looks like she just stepped out of a Tim Burton film about drag queens. 

But I digress…

There were a couple of pieces I enjoyed, the aforementioned being one of them. Another was Do Ho Suh’s Staircase-III. I was amazed at how detailed it was—including ‘simple’ details like light switches made out of fabric—and how this piece made me feel like I was in some weird dreamlike state. In hindsight, I really regret not getting a photo of it. (A second trip might be required at some point solely for that reason.)

Another work I want to mention, which I enjoyed seeing mostly for the spectacle, was the notorious Damian Hirst’s ‘For the Love of God’ (a.k.a. the crystal skull piece). For those who aren’t familiar, 

For the Love of God is a life-size platinum cast of an eighteenth century human skull, covered by 8,601 flawless diamonds, inset with the original skull’s teeth. At the front of the cranium is a 52.4 carat pink diamond. Since it was first exhibited in 2007, For the Love of God has become one of the most widely recognised works of contemporary art. It represents the artist’s continued interest in mortality and notions of value. Alluding to the iconography of the skull in art as a memento mori—a reminder of the fragility of life—the work can be viewed alternatively as a glorious, devotional, defiant or provocative gesture in the face of death itself. (Tate Modern website)

'For the Love of God' [NB: This image is not mine!]

 

 Now, I’m not here to get into a whole debate about Hirst and his art—I don’t know enough about the man or the topic to do so. That being said, I confess to liking this piece. And it’s for the same reason I like some of his other work that I’ve seen photos of, and even the earlier-mentioned ‘Sleeping Venus’: 

I like my modern art grim. 

You see, I realized today that I’m much more willing to give modern art a chance if it’s filled with dark colors and abject(ified), Gothic imagery. If it’s all simple geometric shapes with no purpose, pained in neon oranges and pinks and yellows, then I want nothing to do with it. Give me depictions that tell a story—about death, or about how shit this life can be sometimes—with dark blacks, and blues, and purples. That, I can appreciate.

But I’ve gone on enough about art. I did a lot more today than just that!

After leaving the Tate, I continued eastward along the Thames, passing the (rebuilt) Globe Theatre along the way. Eventually, I reached the Clink Prison Museum. Nic and I caught a glimpse of this place when we were here back in 2008, but we weren’t able to go in for one reason or another (I think we had tickets to do something that night). I knew that I just had to go there this time.

The Clink is a subterranean prison that was in operation from c.12th Century until 1780. The origins of its name have been lost to time, but it has been speculated that the sound comes from sounds of chains being affixed to prisoners—furthermore, it is from this notorious gaol (jail) that the slang term ‘the clink’ came to symbolize modern jails.

Undoubtedly arrested for public drunkenness...

It’s reputed to be haunted, though I didn’t see any ghosts. Honestly, I was kind of underwhelmed. However, it was pretty interactive—I was able to handle actual (reproductions) of torture devices that were used—and I did learn some new things, too. 

For instance, another common prison-related term used today—‘the hole’—can be linked back to the Clink. Except, rather than being solitary confinement (as we might understand it today), this was literally a hole that prisoners were shoved into and forgotten about. 

At high tide, the polluted water from the Thames would fill the hole almost completely, but not enough to drown (most of) the prisoners—instead, they succumbed to either hunger or various diseases they contracted from the water (e.g., Dysentery). It was also not uncommon for prisoners in the hole to become so waterlogged that their skin would literally begin to rot while they were still living. Terrifying!

The Hole! (You can't see it here, but the pit is filled with water.)

After touring the Clink, I climbed back up to the street level and started toward my next destination. I wrapped around the Golden Hinde, crossed London Bridge (which thankfully did not fall), passed the Monument to the Great London Fire of 1666, and finally arrived at St Paul’s Cathedral.

I arrived in time for the Evensong Service, which meant that I didn’t have to pay to get in (the main reason I hadn’t visited prior). I was able to go in and look around a bit, but there wasn’t really anything interesting that caught my attention. 

Don’t get me wrong: it’s absolutely gorgeous inside, and reminded me of so many pictures of the Vatican that I’ve seen over the years. Everything was a crisp white, glistening gold, or polished onyx—a far cry from the stony interior of Westminster Abbey, for instance. Nonetheless, I just didn’t have a desire to stay, and so I sneaked out before the service started.

St Paul's Interior

 From there I made my way through Trafalgar Square—passing the Royal Courts of Justice en route—and down to the Horse Guards Parade and Whitehall / 10 Downing Street. 

Regarding the former, today this is where the annual Trooping the Colour ceremony—which officially marks the Sovereign’s birthday—takes place, but in the past it was used for other events as well (e.g., jousts held for King Henry VIII). 

The latter site is the home of Britain’s Prime Minister. Sadly, you cannot see his exact residence from the road—the gate at the edge of the street is as close as you can get.

And, finally, I concluded my day by taking a brief stroll through St James’s Park, where I once again snapped lots of bird photos. But I also did this for another reason: for myriad reasons, I’ve found myself in St James’s Park about once a month throughout my stay. The photos I’ve taken there somewhat show the changing of the seasons, and will serve as a nice, overarching reminder of my time here.

St James's Park with Buckingham Palace

Okay, it’s late and I’m exhausted—and no wonder: GoogleMaps tells me I walked over 8 miles today—time to wrap this up! 

Today's Trip

Until next time…

All Sorts of Easter Goodness...

Just a super-quick blurb about this past Easter weekend.

I’m still dealing with the residuals of my recent illness (seriously, WTF?), but it was Easter weekend and so some pretense of ‘doing something’ was in order.

Saturday morning (7 April) was cold, gray, and raining, but I forced myself out of bed relatively early nonetheless. This was so I could meet EN at nearby Stratford Center and get my eyebrows threaded—she found a place there that would do it for £2, which is a heck of a lot cheaper than what I paid before. 

Well, let me tell you: there’s a reason why it was so cheap! 

The first time I underwent this process it was a breeze…this time it was a hurricane. I seriously thought she had drawn blood on more than one occasion. I think in the future I’ll stick to my hot, albeit more expensive Middle Eastern stylist.

As an aside, it was also during this trip that I realized that the God-awful, red, twisted-metal thing that I can see from my kitchen window is actually part of the Olympic Park! (In other words, all those times I said I hadn’t seen any of the Olympic junk firsthand I was totally wrong!) 

The monstrosity is called the ‘ArcelorMittal Orbit Sculpture,’ and is the tallest sculpture in the UK—taller, even, than New York’s own Statue of Liberty…

But, seriously, isn’t this the most hideous thing you’ve ever seen?

The sculpture and stadium where the Olympics will be held. [NB: This image is not mine!]

At any rate, having de-caterpillared my eyebrows I headed back home and spent the rest of the afternoon attempting (and failing) to start on my final essays for my three UEL classes—as crazy as it is to believe, we only have one class session left, and then one week after that to work on our essays…and then the semester is over!!!

That night, I decided to reward my…lack of progress with another trip out. 

EN and I met up again in Soho, determined to have a night of fun and dancing. And we succeeded this time! We met at Village at around 10:30 PM, and didn’t leave until they closed—and most of that time was spent up on the ‘stage’ downstairs, jumping around like crazy people. 

(At one point we got down, but I was prompted to get back up by some random guy who told me I was a good dancer. I don’t know if he was just drunk, or if he meant it, but it gave me an ego boost and so I climbed back up—EN was right on my heels, LOL!)

Where it all goes down... (This photo was taken on a different day when I was in the gaybourhood.)

Sweaty dancing queens...in bad lighting...

As another aside: since the tube stops running at around midnight, after my nights out I’ve been frequently forced to take a bus (which everyone knows I hate). In particular, I take the 25 bus to get to my place on the eastside of London. 

I bring this up because some of my readers who are also my Facebook friends may recall that I posted a comment Saturday night/Sunday morning complaining that there’s always some form of drama on the bus on my way home. (In that particular instance it was three young, drunk, straight guys harassing a lesbian couple, and then everyone who tried to intervene.) 

So, I did a bit of research today…only to discover that “Route 25 from Ilford [basically where I live] to Oxford Circus [which is where Soho is] has been revealed as London's most dangerous bus route with 471 code red emergency calls…” Now, admittedly, this statistic is from 2006—but still…not overly comforting.

Moving on...

Despite the fact that I only had one beer Saturday night—far less than I’ve had any other time I’ve gone out during this trip—I didn’t wake up on Easter Sunday until almost 2 PM. I guess I was just depressed that the Easter Bunny couldn’t leave me his/her usual basket of goodies (though she did send me an e-basket with money which was greatly appreciated). 

Regardless, this meant that my day was pretty much over before it even began, because I needed to leave shortly thereafter to go to church.

Yes, church. (I’m not a total heathen…I just play one on TV and the interwebs.)

Since arriving in London, one of my goals has been to go to the Easter service at Westminster Abbey. Well, I made it! Fortunately, their main service for the day wasn’t until 6:30 PM, so my extra-long sleep didn’t totally mess up plans.

I arrived at around 5:45, and we were finally allowed into the abbey at around 6:15. I took an aisle seat to the right of the High Altar, in the area known as ‘Poet’s Corner’—near where Queen Elizabeth and Prince Philip sat during Prince William and Catherine’s wedding service.

Eyebrows Threaded and Ready for Easter

[NB: Obviously, I was not at the wedding, nor is the image mine (other than the arrow and text).]

What I did not realize going in, and which came as a welcomed surprise, was that the official delivering the service was the brother of my friend AH. (I knew that AH’s brother was a reverend at Westminster, but I had no idea I would ever actually sit through a service delivered by him.) 

Another welcomed surprise was that the first song was ‘Jesus Christ is Risen Today.’ By itself this was not a surprise—it is, after all, a traditional Easter song—but this particular song is a favorite at my parents’ church, and so it made me feel somewhat connected to them to hear it. 

Also, while I’m on the subject of music at the service: I was standing near a woman whose voice was…well, bless her heart, I’m sure it sounded lovely to the good Lord’s ears. But, though off-key, it was also kind of sweet to mine because it reminded me of my paternal grandmother. My grandmother was the epitome of a good Christian woman (the real kind), and I have so many fond memories of standing beside her at Sheppard Park, listening to her joyfully warbling along with the hymns. 

So, in a way, the service not only reached me on a spiritual level, but it also made me feel more closely connected to my friends and family (both here on Earth and beyond). Aww…

Finally, I just want to share striking bit of text that was included in the service’s program. This excerpt comes from an Easter sermon attributed to St John Chrysostom (c. 347-407):

If any be lovers of God, let them rejoice in this beautiful, radiant Feast. If any be faithful servants let them gladly enter the joy of their Lord. If any have arrived only at the last minute let them not be ashamed because they have arrived so late. For the Master is gracious and welcomes the last no less than the first. Enter then, all of you, into the joy of your Master. First and last receive alike your reward. Rich and poor dance together. You have fasted in Lent and you who have not, rejoice together today. Come, all of you, to share in this banquet of faith; draw on the wealth of God’s mercy and love. Let no one lament their poverty; for the universal kingdom has been revealed. Let no one weep for their sins, for the light of forgiveness has risen from the grave. Let no one fear death; for the death of our Savior has set us free. He has destroyed death by undergoing death. He has despoiled hell by going into hell.

Though it may come across as a bit preachy, I share this bit of text because, for me, it encapsulates the true meaning of Christ’s teachings: love and forgiveness, regardless of your socioeconomic class or potential moral failings. In essence, none of that matters because we are all equal (meaning it is none of our places to judge another). 

This is the ideology behind my understanding and practice of Christianity, and it is this understanding which allows me to continue calling myself a Christian despite the fact that men like James Dobson and the Pope have tried to pervert what it means to be a Christian.

And so, I leave you with that happy thought—now, if anyone wants to send me some of their extra jellybeans and/or chocolate bunnies (even if you’ve already bitten off the ears), let me know and I’ll give you my address!

Casual Over-Drinks Topics...

There’s not too much to talk about at the moment, but I figured I should do a quick entry just to highlight a couple of things that I’ve done over the last week.

Tuesday night (20 March) I traveled to Leytonstone—birthplace of Sirs Alfred Hitchcock and Derek Jacobi—in order to meet-up with two UEL students, JA and GC, for drinks. The peers in question are both thesis-level Cultural Studies students who occasionally pop into my horrid ‘Culture, Power and Resistance in the Twenty-First Century’ class. One of them (JA) also happens to be the UEL student that came to Columbia last year. We met up at the Red Lion (which I think might be affiliated with the pub I went to with K&M on my second night here), and spent a lovely couple of hours catching up over beer and cider. We chatted about everything from white privilege and racism in Europe, to the failings of abstinence-only education in the U.S., to the attempted privitization of England’s healthcare system. You know, casual over-drinks topics…for Cultural Studies students at least.

Tuesday night wasn’t my only stab at being social this week. Last night (23 March) I happened to catch a Facebook update from another friend, AH, that he was stuck at Victoria Station, waiting for a train to take him back home (which is about an hour away). Now, I’ve ‘known’ AH online for around 13 years—we’ve been part of the same He-Man/She-Ra community since the mid- to late-1990s—but we’ve never actually met before. (Namely because of the ocean which separates us.) So, upon spotting this update, a hurried flurry of messages were exchanged, and plans were made to finally meet up in person while he waited for his rescheduled train. A short while later, and we were finally greeting one another face-to-face.

Me and AH at Victoria Station

Since AH had a couple of hours before his train was scheduled to depart, we nipped over to the Duke of York, a pub not far from the station. This was actually my first experience meeting another He-Fan/She-Raver in person—everyone’s so spread out in the States that it’s hard to do so—and I loved every second of it. It was so surreal: two grown, 30(ish) year-old men—in a dark, noisy bar surrounded by stumbling heterosexuals trying to dance to ‘Hot in Here’ (and the men suggestively removing their suitcoats)—talking about everything from the father/daughter relationship between Hordak and She-Ra, to what kinds of material the Four Horsemen will use to design Scorpia’s tail, to the role of the Filmation series in producing a generation of really swell, inclusivity-minded people. You know, casual over-drinks topics…for He-Fans/She-Ravers at least.

Beyond those two bits of excitement, there’s really not too much else to tell. This week’s kind of flown by (and, honestly, I wish it would slow down)! I’m housesitting for K&M at the moment, and keeping their delightful dog Bowmar company. I’m loving every second of the peace and quiet here. I hadn't realize how stressed out I’d become living in the other house until I came here, but I suddenly find myself very relaxed.

Of course, part of the stress I’m feeling might have more to do with midterms than the constant thumpa-thumpa at my flat. Basically, our entire grade comes down to two grades: our final (60%) and our midterm (40%). Oh, and they do not award 100% over here, the rationale being that if your work warrants 100% then you should already be a teacher. Realistically, the highest score most students earn is about 75%. So, basically, my midterms have to be spot-on if I want to try to maintain my 4.0!

Fortunately, midterm madness is almost over. One of them (‘Realism, Fantasy & Utopia’) was due last week, and the other two are due this week—followed by two glorious weeks of Easter Break (yes, it's called Easter Break here), during which time I hope to visit Scotland!!!! 

And then we go straight into working on our finals, because there's only like 5 weeks left of the actual semester following Easter Break.

Two final things I want to mention, but which don’t really fit anywhere else:

First, yesterday was a gorgeous day! Mind you, this is still London, so of course there was a curtain of smog blanketing the skyline—I have yet to see a day that is both sunny and clear—but I’ll take what I can get! It was simply too nice restrict myself to the indoors all day, so after class I ran to K&M’s house, spent some time with Bowmar, grabbed the laptop, and headed to a coffee shop in Soho. The place was called LJ’s CoffeeHouse, and my choice to go there was pretty random: I simply wanted somewhere that was open-air and had free wifi, and this is where Google directed me. After visiting their website, however, I also became smitten with LJ’s through the following ‘prayer’ posted on their site (and which I can totes relate to):

Caffeine is my shepherd; I shall not doze.
It maketh me to wake in green pastures:
It leadeth me beyond the sleeping masses.
It restoreth my buzz:
It leadeth me in the path of conciousness for its name's sake.
Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of addiction,
I will fear no equal.
For thou art with me, thy sweetness and thy crema they comfort me.
Thou preparest a carafe before me in the presence of my barista:
Thou anointest my day with pep; my mug runneth over.
Surely richness and taste shall follow me all the days of my life:
And I will dwell in the house of LJ's forever.

The service was only decent (though very friendly), but the coffee and the atmosphere as a whole were excellent. The gay Sohoians seemed to come alive, renewed by the sun’s warmth. People were so happy and pleasant, and it all jived perfectly with the mood I was in. (It was not, however, conducive to working—I spent 90% of my time there just chatting with Nic over the interwebs.)

Secondly—and containing spoilers (consider yourself warned)—I was saddened to learn on Thursday night that ‘Eastenders’ had killed off one of my favorite characters, George-Michael-obsessive Heather Trott (Cheryl Fergison). Alongside the Dot, Kim, and Shirley characters, Heather was one of my favorites. And the way in which she died—and the status of her relationships with best-friend Shirley and her murderer at the time—is just too sad. And sadly, it seems as if the U.K. soaps don’t bring back characters from the dead in the way the U.S. soaps do. Ah, well—I’ll miss you, Heather, but at least I can find some of your shenanigans on YouTube still: 

  

Until next time…

Yesterday in Culture: US Edition

So, yesterday was the annual US American tradition of gathering around yon television to watch commercials.

Don’t get me wrong, there’s a bit more to it than that: some viewers—namely of the heterosexual male breed—tune in to watch a bunch of savage barbarians beat the tar out of one another. They call this event a ‘Super Bowl.’ Being a slightly more intelligent and civilized chap, I don’t quite get the appeal. From what I gather, however, the objective is to chase down a black-and-white checked pig, kick it through a hoop or net of some type, and then run around the bases before the opposing team’s mascot gives you a strike. At some point while this is all going on, spectators are supposed to divert their attention to a bunch of adorable puppies yapping about which is better: beer that has more taste, or less filling? 

As I said, though, the main purpose of this sporting…spectacle is to celebrate America’s status as a consumerist, capitalistic culture that supports 1% of the population while ensuring that the other 99% of us can’t even afford basic human rights like, y’know, healthcare!

Of course, none of that matters as long as we don’t actually think about it, right? 

As long as we just sit back, and mindlessly consume approximately 60 full minutes of audience-directed marketing, then we’ll all be happy because we don’t have to consider pesky ethical details like the fact that last night's MVP, Eli Manning, earns approximately $16,000,000 (USD) per year for being able to throw a fucking ball, whereas the average citizen of the Democratic Republic of Congo earns just $120 (USD) per year.

But I digress…

The ‘Super Bowl’ has admittedly given us some pretty memorable commercials over the years. For instance, who could forget Apple’s Macintosh ad that riffed on Orwell's 1984? Or Snickers’ humorageist Betty White and hysexistcal Aretha Franklin commercials?

I surely couldn’t!

And last night, they did it again, this time courtesy of MetLife Insurance. (See what I did there? I brought it back ’round to the whole healthcare thing.) 

Now, as you can see, this particular advertisement features some pretty well-known animated figures owned by Warner Brothers (either directly or through subsidiaries)... 

But then there’s also these two:

Captures Courtesy of James Eatock

Now, the question becomes, why are they featured in this advertisement? Is it just good ol’ fun, meant to bring a knowing smile to former fans of He-Man and his fearless friend, Battle-Cat? Or is there more to it?

Let me back up a moment and explain some things—and, no, this has nothing to do with my time abroad, but since I have the platform I’m going to use it to talk about a topic near and dear to my heart: Masters of the Universe (MOTU).

In 1982, Mattel—the makers of Barbie and Hot Wheels—introduced a new 6” toyline called “Masters of the Universe.” The minicomics that came with the original series told of a medieval world (Eternia) wherein science and sorcery merged seamlessly. At the center of this world stood an ancient fortress called Castle Grayskull; and, according to Eternian mythology, (s)he who rules Grayskull also rules Eternia. 

Enter: Skeletor, an extra-dimensional warlord from Infinitia determined to claim that castle as his own (with the added benefit of taking Tee-La, the warrior goddess, as his bride). Also enter: He-Man, a barbarian jungle warrior entrusted with a magical sword and harness by an (occasionally) different goddess figure, and fated to be Eternia’s true king one day. (And husband of Tee-La—duh!) 

From "The Vengeance of Skeletor," courtesy of He-Man.Org

From "He-Man and the Power Sword," courtesy of He-Man.Org

As a rule, the Eternians were safe thanks to He-Man and his friends. But something was happening here on Earth that muddied the waters a little. (And, no, I’m not talking about the controversial fact that DC Comics decided to position He-Man as a bi-terrestrial character—his mother, now Eternia’s queen, was apparently from Earth.)

"To Tempt The Gods" (DC Comics' MOTU Series, Part 1 of 3, p. 4)

No, the real danger was US President Ronald Reagan's neoliberal policies. With help from Mark S. Fowler—his flunky at the FCC—Reagan started dismantling the FCC’s power to regulate certain types of marketing.

Suddenly, Mattel—and others, to be sure—found itself able to market directly to children in ways that it had never been able to do before. Enter: the half-hour toy commercial (a.k.a. modern cartoons), ensuring that He-Man and his friends would be duking-it-out with the forces of evil five days a week!

Image Courtesy of He-Man.Org

From 1983-1985 (and then afterward courtesy of repeats), Mattel—through Filmation—brought the adventures of He-Man and the Masters of the Universe into the homes of boys and girls across the Western world. But, being capitalists at heart, the big bosses at Mattel realized there was more to the children’s market than just little boys!

Enter: She-Ra, the Princess of Power (POP) and He-Man’s twin sister—and a toyline that was, from the bosses’ perspective, aimed at girls. (This latter fact is highly debatable, as there are many boys who collected the POP toys, just as there were girls who collected the MOTU toys.) The initial She-Ra series ran from 1985-1987, but, like its sibling-show, continued afterwards through repeats.

The MOTU mythos relaunched itself again—accompanied by fresh toylines—in 1990(-1991) and 2002(-2004), and the property even saw a live-action movie produced in 1987 courtesy of Warner Brothers.

Supported by an active fan-community (and yet another toyline, now in its fourth year), the MOTU property has been with fans almost constantly for the last 30 years. And, rumor has it, that Mattel plans to make the property’s 30^th spectacular.

Not only is there brand new artwork and other collectibles, but references by Mattel officials to big and exciting things down the road  Could that include a new MOTU cartoon, which what we see in the MetLife commercial is a preview of? Fans like myself are certainly hoping so! 

Now I want to move on to the other big story from yesterday’s baseball match, or whatever it was: the half-time show.

One word: Madonna.

Another word: Awesome.

Rumor has it, the Material Girl pulled her hamstring right before the show, but that didn’t stop her from putting on a great performance, which included bits from fan-favorites “Vogue,” “Music,” and “Like a Prayer.” (NB: Those individual links take you to my favorite versions of each song!)

Yet, as much as I love Madge (excepting her acting ‘abilities’), I’m not here to talk about her performance. Rather, I want to talk about her wardrobe choice.

For your convenience, I’ve embedded her performance last night. You don’t have to watch the whole thing, but, at the very least, watch her during the opening (“Vogue”) segment, and pay special attention to her ensemble:

It didn’t take long for me—and numerous others—to drop our jaws when we saw her. “What’re you lookin’ at?” you may join the immaculate Madonna in asking. The answer is, first and foremost, her headdress. Next it’s her golden cape. And then the rest.

Almost immediately, my stateside MOTU/POP-friends went to the Facebook store and started posting comparison images like the one seen here:

The Material Princess?

That’s right: we were comparing her to She-Ra. (See, I really do try to make these posts come full-circle!) 

And I agreed initially, but it didn't take long for me (and others, to be fair) to realize that the comparison was close but still a touch off…

And then I (we) remembered the Bubble-Power She-Ra variant from the original and MOTUC toylines:

Image Courtesy of Fwoosh

Left: Original Bubble-Power She-Ra Art by Nightwing / Right: Bubble-Power Madonna?

 Perfect comparison!

Now, do I think the homage was intentional? No. 

Would I love to find out that She-Who-Must-Not-Act-Again and Mattel planned this whole thing out as part of the MOTU 30^th Anniversary celebration? Abso-freakin-lutely!

All right, kiddies, I think I’ve blathered on enough about all of this. I could go on and on—I haven’t even touched upon the various ideologies MOTU and POP viewers were inculcated with over the last three decades!—but I won’t.

Besides, I need to start writing my next entry, which is a look at part of the UK’s culture happening this very day…