There are some creepy Sgt Rock covers, and that one is right up there. Those things get warped in the minds of young boys, or the other way around. There is something perverse about every one of them. What is weird is that this cover made me think of the one Sgt. Rock I have in a box somewhere and haven't looked at for years. I can't remember what it's about even, but I get the same sick feeling from it.
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Welcome to The Moss Problem! What is it? Rather than laying out a mission statement, or some kind of lofty proposal of intent, I think it would be best to just let The Moss Problem define itself as time goes on. We admittedly have some ridiculously ambitious speculations for ourselves. I have, however, found that laying the groundwork for a spectacularly embarrassing failure is no way to guarantee success. Three tragic weddings have convinced me of that. No, I firmly believe that success or lack of success have more to do with the present-- the day to day battles, or crushing defeats, or comebacks, or losses, or breakthroughs-- than it does with any plans for the future (or dwellings on the past).
Back in Los Angeles, editing a new "magazine" published by my friends Randy and Kate Moss, a couple of real troublemakers who kind of picture themselves as... well, I'd better not say it. But they don't want this to be about them, not at all. I shouldn't have even mentioned them, but they did say it was okay to use their names (but no pictures) as the backers of this venture. Anyway, as far as "magazine" goes, all they told me is that they want to be wide open to what that means. It could be like a quarterly, a literary journal, a tabloid or a glossy newsstand publication, or a "zine" or a phonograph record. The only thing they are discouraging, at least at the outset, is any kind of compact disc, CD or DVD, and any comparison to Mr. Unmentionable and his Unmentionable Unmentionables. I'm sorry to be vague, but those are the rules. Other than that-- no rules. No ideas about frequency or size, content or format-- and what really excites me is the possibility of coming up with some format, technique, INVENTION that has yet to be invented, thought of, or even imagined.
If all of that sounds a little INSANE, well, you probably don't know the Moss family. This is actually fairly grounded and concrete for the Mosses. And even more so because what we are starting with, HERE, is an online journal, and that's a nice place to start. Something you can find, access, and read, for free, and something that we are able to create or destroy at a moment's notice.
The Mosses and I decided this would be a very good place to start, because it is our shared position that we are now witnessing the death of cinema, rock'n'roll, and books. And with every death comes a (re)birth-- but of what? (As far as I can tell right now, maybe only more ways to spend more on less.) I know it sounds absurd, and this is the last time I'll state it in such simplistic terms, choosing to create an ongoing body of evidence instead in these very pages-- but not just an argument, or a declaration-- hopefully, as well, a celebration, a wake, a condemnation, and a call to arms (well, maybe not arms).
2 comments:
There are some creepy Sgt Rock covers, and that one is right up there. Those things get warped in the minds of young boys, or the other way around. There is something perverse about every one of them. What is weird is that this cover made me think of the one Sgt. Rock I have in a box somewhere and haven't looked at for years. I can't remember what it's about even, but I get the same sick feeling from it.
Ditto the creepiness. But I loved SR when I was 10. Especially because of the creepiness!
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