Texts from Superheroes – Happy Halloween



Doctor Who Challenge – Describe All The Doctors

Oscar Watch: ‘Captain America’ For Best Picture? Why Its Directors Think The Academy Should Take Comic Book Movies Seriously

Oscar Watch: ‘Captain America’ For Best Picture? Why Its Directors Think The Academy Should Take Comic Book Movies Seriously


Southwest Airlines TV Spot, ‘Wedding Season Dance Party’ Song by Young MC



Occult of Personality: 8 Memorable Constantine Cases By Mark Ginocchio



The Secret History and Uncertain Future of Comics Character John Constantine By Abraham Riesman



U2 – Songs Of Innocence [FULL ALBUM] [HD with all LYRICS]


Energies of the Day

“Iron is full of impurities that weaken it: through forging, it becomes steel and is transformed into a razor-sharp sword. Human beings develop in the same fashion.” – Morihei Ueshiba

Speaking of impurities, I contracted Shingles this week.

Yes, shingles. I am only 33 not 53 or older.

I know right?!

What in the blue hell is my body trying to tell me?

Maybe that I NEED to change my life.

Without understanding the intricacies of how I live now, I can only say it makes sense.

I have lived in the same apartment for half a decade (not that I’m complaining whereas some people don’t have anywhere to rest their weary heads). My roommate is family and we get along swimmingly.

For a little background, my symptoms started out as a simple rash which I incorrectly attributed to stress i.e. hives. So my train of thought ran through possible stressors and the majority of them led back to my current job.

Mainly due to my employer and the duties which have been shoehorned onto my shoulders, my stress level and overall tension towards the workplace have increased.

In my ongoing study (of myself and how I can improve), my coping mechanism predominately relies on the past; whether it’s friends, hobbies, or possible avenues, my go to is the throwback: something I have tried before (school, writing, impromptu trips, teaching nostalgia,  communication with old friends, etc.).

The difference now is that I see my “insanity” and choose to respond in a way not executed in my past. When I have a clue of what it is, I’ll let you know.

Most positively, I have absolutely NO doubts about who I am. My trepidation comes from a lack of knowledge…of how to utilize myself and arrive at a position where I can be my best self.

Believe it or not, this blog reminds me of what’s brimming inside…the “P” word, potential.

Shudder the thought… lol.

In the meantime, I’ll give this one to God. I don’t say that often…but I’m at a point where divine intervention would be welcomed.

Bye for now, KS.




Doctor Who: The Caretaker (2014)

Arcadia Pod

Doctor Who (series 8) Ep6

The Russell T. Davies era of Doctor Who was largely characterized by merging the sci-fi tropes of the classic show with a more modern soap opera veneer that seemingly originated from a handful of Joss Whedon-penned shows i.e. Buffy. What this usually meant is that most episodes veered into the realm of the common soap opera more times than not, and anything other than the tension between the characters played “second fiddle” when it was all over. Gareth Roberts seems to be harkening back to these times with his new episode, The Caretaker, a fact that is no surprise since he worked with Davies for years on both Doctor Who and The Sarah Jane Adventures. So let’s take a trip back in time for a retro episode of “new-Who” if there ever could be such a thing!

The Caretaker is more of a character…

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The Tyger by William Blake

Tyger, Tyger, burning bright,
In the forests of the night;
What immortal hand or eye,
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?


In what distant deeps or skies.
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand, dare seize the fire?


And what shoulder, & what art,
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And when thy heart began to beat,
What dread hand? & what dread feet?


What the hammer? what the chain,
In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil? what dread grasp,
Dare its deadly terrors clasp!


When the stars threw down their spears
And water’d heaven with their tears:
Did he smile his work to see?
Did he who made the Lamb make thee?


Tyger, Tyger, burning bright,
In the forests of the night:
What immortal hand or eye,
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?