josh pincus is crying

The weekly challenge word on sugarfrostedgoodness.com is “mechanical”.

It’s always tough finding a spot at the bar at the Piston My Brake Shoes Pub.

The sugarfrostedgoodness.com weekly challenge is “bad idea”.

Not a good idea!

The challenge this week on sugarfrostedgoodness.com is “fire“.

Edward Slovik was arrested and served jail time for several incidents of petty theft, breaking and entering and disturbing the peace, between 1937 and 1939. Slovik was classified as unfit for duty in the U.S. military because of his criminal record.
He met Antoinette Wisniewski while working at a plumbing company in Dearborn, Michigan, and the two were married in 1942. The intensity of World War II forced the military to lower their standards in order to meet demands for replacement troops. As a result, Slovik’s draft classification was changed and he was drafted into the infantry in January 1944.
During training, Slovik earned the reputation of being a good-natured buddy and learned to fire a rifle (which he hated) and other weapons. He was assigned to the 28th Infantry Division, stationed in France.
En route to the front, when his group of replacements was fired on, they stopped and dug in. Slovik and a friend became separated from the others. The two men soon came upon a camp of Canadian infantry and “joined” it, remaining with them for six weeks. Slovik finally rejoined his division, but he deserted almost immediately upon returning, ignoring the pleas of a friend not to leave. Slovik informed his company commander that he was “too scared” to serve in a rifle company and asked to be reassigned to a rear area unit. Slovik told the commander that he would run away if he were assigned to a rifle unit and asked him if that would constitute desertion. The commander confirmed that it would and refused his request for reassignment, assigning him to a rifle platoon.
A day later, Slovik voluntarily surrendered to an officer of the 28th Infantry Division, handing him a signed confession of desertion. However, he firmly stated he would run away again if forced to go into combat. The officer warned Slovik that his written confession was damaging evidence and advised him to destroy it. Slovik refused and he was confined in the division stockade.
Just prior to trial, the division judge offered Slovik a deal under which the court-martial action would be dropped if he would go back to his unit. Slovik refused. As a result, Slovik was tried and convicted of desertion, although he pleaded not guilty at the trial. The sentence of death was voted unanimously.
Slovik wrote a letter to General Dwight D. Eisenhower pleading for clemency, but no basis for clemency was found. On December 23, in the midst of the Battle of the Bulge, Eisenhower confirmed the death sentence. It was held that he “directly challenged the authority” of the United States and that “future discipline depends upon a resolute reply to this challenge.” Slovik was to pay for his defiant attitude and he was to be made an example.
Slovik was executed by firing squad in January 1945. None of the riflemen so much as flinched, believing Slovik had gotten what he deserved. Slovik’s last words were “They’re not shooting me for deserting the United Stated Army - thousands of guys have done that. They’re shooting me for bread I stole when I was 12 years old.”
Although over twenty-one thousand soldiers were given varying sentences for desertion during World War II—including forty-nine death sentences—only Slovik’s death sentence was carried out. He remains the only American soldier to be executed for desertion since the Civil War.

The man didn’t refuse to serve, he refused to kill.

The challenge word on sugarfrostedgoodness.com this week is “joy”.
This is the second of two illustrations for the topic.

With his calm, patient nature, Bob Ross came to prominence as the creator and host of The Joy of Painting, a long-running instructional program braodcast on public television. The show continues in reruns, even after Ross’s death in 1995.
Ross spent twelve years keeping medical records for the U.S. Air Force, which is where he first started painting. After leaving the Air Force, he studied with William Alexander before becoming famous worldwide with his own television program, The Magic of Oil Painting, also a public television staple.
During each half-hour segment of The Joy of Painting, Ross would instruct viewers in the art of oil painting using a quick-study technique that kept colors to a minimum and broke paintings down into simple steps that anyone could follow. Ross acknowledged that the appearances of the landscapes he painted were strongly influenced by his years living in Alaska, where he was stationed for the majority of his Air Force career.
He repeatedly stated on the show his belief that everyone had artistic talent and could become accomplished artists given time, practice, and encouragement, and to this end was often fond of saying, “We don’t make mistakes, we just have happy little accidents.” When asked about his laid-back approach to painting and eternally calm and contented demeanor, he once commented: “I got a letter from somebody a while back, and they said, ‘Bob, everything in your world seems to be happy.’ That’s for sure. That’s why I paint. It’s because I can create the kind of world that I want, and I can make this world as happy as I want it. Shoot, if you want bad stuff, watch the news.”
Ross utilized the wet-on-wet oil painting technique, in which the painter continues adding paint on top of still wet paint rather than waiting a lengthy amount of time to allow each layer of paint to dry. Combining this method with the use of giant house-painting brushes, large painting knives and fan brushes allowed Ross to paint trees, water, clouds and mountains in a matter of seconds.
In many episodes of The Joy of Painting, Ross noted that one of his favorite parts of painting was cleaning the brush, specifically the act of drying off a brush, which he had dipped in cleaner, by rapping it against the easel frame. He would often smile and even laugh out loud regularly during this practice as he, in his words, “Beat the devil out of it”.

The challenge word on sugarfrostedgoodness.com this week is “joy”.
This is the first of two illustrations for the topic.

Joy Division were an English rock band formed in 1976 in Greater Manchester. The band consisted of Ian Curtis, Bernard Sumner, Peter Hook and Stephen Morris.
Joy Division rapidly evolved from their initial punk rock influences, developing a sound and style that helped pioneer the post-punk movement of the late 1970s. Joy Division’s debut album, Unknown Pleasures, was released in 1979 on independent record label Factory Records, and drew critical acclaim from the British press. Despite the band’s rapid success, vocalist Ian Curtis was beset with depression and personal difficulties, including a dissolving marriage and his diagnosis with epilepsy. Curtis found it increasingly difficult to perform at live concerts, and often had seizures during performances.
On the eve of the band’s first American tour, Curtis, overwhelmed with depression, committed suicide. Early on the morning of May 18, 1980, Curtis hanged himself in his kitchen. Curtis’s wife Deborah, discovered his body when she returned around midday.
Joy Division’s posthumously released second album, Closer, and the single “Love Will Tear Us Apart” became the band’s highest charting releases. After the death of Curtis, the remaining members reformed as New Order, achieving significant critical and commercial success.

The sugarfrostedgoodness.com weekly challenge is “round“.

What happened on the sunny afternoon of November 13, 1982, would change the lives of Ray “Boom Boom” Mancini and Duk Koo Kim and the future of boxing. By the time it was over, Kim lay in a coma from which he would never awaken, dying five days later at the Desert Springs Hospital in Las Vegas.

Ray Mancini inherited his nickname from his father, veteran boxer Lenny “Boom Boom” Mancini. The name perfectly suited the younger Mancini’s wild, “whirlwind” fighting style. After a failed attempt against Alexis Arguello, Mancini defeated Arturo Frias and became World Lightweight Champion. Mancini’s first defense of his title went easily with a 6th round knockout. But it was his next fight that would change boxing forever.
Duk Koo Kim was brave, but he was wrongly ranked No. 1 by the World Boxing Association. And while his record was 17-1-1, he had but one knockout and had never been tested on a big stage nor faced the kind of force Mancini was at the time. Kim had to labor mightily to get his weight down to the 135-pound limit in the final days leading up to their showdown. Kim made weight, but not without draining himself. Yet round after brutal round, his reaction to being hammered by Mancini was to do what real fighters do. He fought back. He fought back bravely despite obviously hopeless circumstances. He fought back enough that the referee could never justify leaping between them to end Mancini’s bombing raids even in the 13th round, when Mancini rocked Kim repeatedly with 40 unanswered shots. It was a fight filled with action, but Mancini had an easy time hitting Kim during the 14 rounds the fight lasted. Kim left the ring on a stretcher. He sustained brain injuries that led to his death five days later. Later, it was reported that taped to the mirror in Kim’s dressing room was a note that Kim had written to himself. It read: “Kill or be killed.”
Mancini went to the funeral in South Korea and fell into a deep depression afterwards. He said that the hardest moments came when people approached him and asked if he was the boxer who “killed” Duk Koo Kim. Mancini went through a period of reflection, as he blamed himself for Kim’s death. Kim’s mother committed suicide four months after the fight. The bout’s referee, Richard Green, committed suicide in July 1983.
As a result of this bout, the WBC took steps to shorten its title bouts to a distance of 12 rounds. The WBA and WBO followed in 1988 and the IBF did in 1989. Ray had one final fight in April 1992, against former lightweight champion Greg Haugen. Ray was just a mere shadow of his old self, having only 2 fights in seven years, and the fight was stopped in round seven.

Some years later, singer Warren Zevon wrote a song called “Boom Boom Mancini.” Among the lyrics are these lines:
When they asked him who was responsible/For the death of Duk Koo Kim
He said, “Someone should have stopped the fight,” and told me it was him.
They made hypocrite judgments after the fact/But the name of the game is be hit and hit back
In fact, Mancini had never said the fight should have been stopped, agreeing with most ringside observers that Kim’s refusal to retreat made that impossible until he was finally knocked to the floor.

The sugarfrostedgoodness.com challenge this week is “science fiction”

Michael Rennie was ill the day the earth stood still
But he told us where we stand
And Flash Gordon was there in silver underwear
Claude Rains was the invisible man
Then something went wrong for Fay Wray and King Kong
They got caught in a celluloid jam
Then at a deadly pace it came from outer space
And this is how the message ran:

Science Fiction - Double Feature
Dr. X will build a creature
See androids fighting Brad and Janet
Anne Francis stars in Forbidden Planet
Oh-oh at the late night, double feature, picture show.

I knew Leo G. Carroll was over a barrel
When Tarantula took to the hills
And I really got hot when I saw Janette Scott
Fight a Triffid that spits poison and kills
Dana Andrews said prunes gave him the runes
And passing them used lots of skills
But when worlds collide, said George Pal to his bride
I’m gonna give you some terrible thrills, like a:

Science Fiction - Double Feature
Dr. X will build a creature
See androids fighting Brad and Janet
Anne Francis stars in Forbidden Planet
Oh-oh at the late night, double feature, picture show.
I wanna go, oh-oh, to the late night double feature picture show.
By RKO, oh-oh, at the late night double feature picture show.
In the back row at the late night double feature picture show.

The challenge on sugar frosted goodness this week is “superhero“.

Don Diego de la Vega, the mild-mannered caballero who at night donned the black cape and hood and made his mark against evildoers as Zorro, first made his appearance in print in the All Story Weekly in Johnston McCulley’s five-part series entitled “The Curse of Capistrano,” on August 9, 1919. Douglas Fairbanks generated a sensation in 1920 with his silent film The Mark of Zorro, an adaptation of McCulley’s first Zorro story, which remains one of the great classics of that era. Two decades later Tyrone Power and Basil Rathbone starred in the successful 1940 sound remake of The Mark of Zorro.

The most notable character whose creation was highly influenced by Zorro is Batman, created by Bob Kane and Bill Finger in 1939. In the origin, the Wayne family actually attend The Mark of Zorro at the cinema the night Bruce’s parents are murdered, and the future Batman takes some inspiration from the masked hero. Zorro keeps his horse in the basement of his house, and Batman keeps his Batmobile in a similar hideout, the Batcave.

Two superheroes for the price of one.

I realized I did an illustration for “superhero” in January 2007, before I had this blog. You can see it HERE.

The challenge word on sugarfrostedgoodness.com for this week is “santa“, of course.

First of all, as you may have figured by now, I do not celebrate Christmas. When I was a kid, we didn’t decorate for Christmas either. No lights. No tree. We weren’t Christian. And we didn’t feel bad or slighted in the least. We happily dragged out our plastic, electric menorah and twisted a new orange bulb into each socket with each new night of Chanukah. My mom would give my brother and me a token Chaunkah gift, usually chocolate coins and underwear or a pair of socks. My parents were both in the retail business and Christmas was a convenient day-off for holiday gift-giving. And considering the haphazard arrival of Chanukah, we could always count on December 25 coming the same time every year. But, I knew that there was no Santa. My mom would take me with her when she shopped for gifts for my brother and me. She always used the same “present hiding place” every year, the back of her closet. And I looked there every year. One year, I even caught my mom and dad assembling some toys for my brother and me. Plus, we didn’t have a fireplace. Our chimney lead to a closet in the den that housed our furnace. But, I also knew it wasn’t “Christmas” and I knew weren’t celebrating Christmas.

When I was an kid, I sat on Santa’s lap and had my picture taken. Sure, I watched “Santa Claus is Coming to Town” and “Year Without a Santa Claus” and “A Charlie Brown Christmas” every year. All of my non-Christian friends watched these shows, too. And we enjoyed them. I always thought Winter Warlock was cool.
And, although I am not a fan of holidays, I have never been offended when someone wished me “Merry Christmas”.

The challenge word on sugarfrostedgoodness.com this week is “winter wonderland“.

I hate snow.

No wait, let me reconsider.

I REALLY hate snow.

As far as I can see, snow serves no purpose. It isn’t good for crops. It kills crops. It is dangerous for driving. Earlier this year, a snowstorm closed a large section of the Pennsylvania Turnpike and left hundreds of drivers stranded. Several years ago, my normal 50-minute commute home from work was increased to a tedious ten hours due to snow.

Snow causes inconvenience for workers and businesses. Shoppers, about to venture to the mall, are disouraged by TV weathermen. Instead, those same shoppers flock to the supermarket to stock up on milk, bread and eggs - fearing a lengthy snowstorm will trap them indoors for months without French toast.

I have no pleasant memories of snow. None. When I was a kid, I remember my father standing at the open front door, with a cigarette in one hand and a scowl on his face, watching the snow fall and muttering “Shit! Shit! Shit!” under his breath. Then, he would watch the evening weather forecast and curse even more as the weatherman predicted (as my father would put it) “plenty inches”.

I remember my one and only attempt at sledding. I banged the front of my sled against a large ice chunk buried in the snow, which in turn, banged into my mouth, which in turn, blew up like an innertube.

Years later, I remember having several co-workers who had grown up in Florida. During the night, six inches of snow had fallen. It made my drive to work slow and horrendous. When I finally arrived, my southern co-workers were out in the parking lot taking pictures and giggling.

Adults! Giggling like four-year-olds!

I have also spent many a weekend day shovelling snow from my sidewalk. I don’t like to shovel anything. Ever.

In addition, I have less than fond memories of sitting in the passenger seat, as my wife navigated the car through a blinding snowstorm on an eight-hour, white-knuckle trek across Pennsylvania on a return trip from Cleveland.

I hear a lot of people say, as the snow is falling, “Oh, look at the snow. It’s so pretty. It looks so nice up in the trees.” And then they are silent several days later, when the snowplows and car exhaust and dirty boots have turned the “crisp blanket of white” into a gray-black-brown, drippy, chunky sludge, piled into eight-foot high mountains in shopping center parking lots.

If Irving Berlin hadn’t have picked up a pen in 1940, no one would be dreaming of a white Christmas with every Christmas card they write.