Swine
flu. Economic recessions. Global warming. The impending zombie apocalypse. That’s not something that anyone wants to
wake up to in the morning, but it’s a cruel reality – the world doesn’t like
humans (probably because humans are so keen on messing it up in the first
place, but oh well). Nobody likes having to deal with this stuff,
either; some people try to work against it, some try to ignore it, some make it
worse – the point is, it’s enough to make people edgy, fearful, depressed, you
name it. I suspect that there are still
others who retreat to the safety of the days of youth, with nap time, plastic
slides, schoolyard crushes…actually, that sounds pretty cool right now. I’m going to go grab a time machine.
AFTER
I make my peace, of course. See, it’s
the past that makes us who we are, and the past, for better or worse, has some
ideas that we can take to heart. And
what better exemplar of this fact than my favorite cartoon (and merchandising vehicle) The Centurions?
For
the uninitiated, The Centurions was a
cartoon in the late 1980s (and re-aired
in the 90s) that explored the adventures of a trio of manly soldiers as they
faced off against the evil cyborg leader Doc Terror and his army of
machines. The catch? These three men had friends in high places:
if trouble brewed, all they had to do was talk into their watches to contact
the space station Sky Vault, which
would provide them with weapons and armor to fight against the mechanical
menace. It’s a simple premise, really;
evil machines show up, good guys become part machine, good guys fire round
after round of bullets, missiles, and rockets until evil machines explode –
fight fire with fire, if you will.
And
yet, underneath that simple premise lies the beauty, the absolute nirvana of
the cartoon: happiness is always within our grasp, regardless of what’s going
on in the world. You can’t live your
life in fear – and all it takes to realize that is a few animated explosions.
So
what can The Centurions teach YOU,
good sir? How about…
Keep it Simple!
When
I was in second grade, our teacher wanted each of us to come up with a “how-to”
picture book – a little project telling someone how to make something,
presumably someone with less than a second grade education…like first
graders. As a wide-eyed idealist, my
first thought was, “Dude! I’m gonna show
everyone how to make the fastest, coolest, screaming metal death trap of a
soap-box racer EVER!”
And
I would have, if I knew how the hell to make a soap-box racer.
I
found that out the hard way. How do you
make it turn? What materials do you need
(soap boxes? How naïve)? How do you make the wheels? Are proper welding skills a necessity, or
optional? Being a rational, emotionally
stable young chap, I bawled like crazy, then forced myself to start over – and
ultimately, I wrote “How to make a Rubber Egg”.
It was a piece of cake; I wondered to myself what possessed me to take
on such a complicated project.
Then
I remembered that screaming metal death traps are awesome. Don’t judge me, I was eight.
The
Centurions faced the same problem nearly every day of their careers. Imagine, if you will, the average man,
minding his own business. Now imagine
that same man, equipped with the Centurion’s standard suit, the “Exo-Frame”: a ridiculously
colored jumpsuit covered in holes. These
holes would, much like Legos, allow for the parts beamed down from Sky Vault to snap in place, thereby
turning the suit into a receptor for the interchangeable parts. It’s a little nerve-racking to think that
military funding might one day go towards a project like this.
Once
they were suited up with armor, the advertisements for the toy line – er, the
brave men of the Sky Vault branch –
would mobilize and generally lay waste to any and all villains in the
area. So time and time again, you’d see
Ace McCloud, the aerial specialist, equipping “Sky Knight,” which was basically
a winged jetpack with a few authority-demanding missiles attached for good
measure. For the longest time, this
didn’t sit well with me as I watched the show with glee; out of all the armor
sets that Ace could have worn, time
and time again he’d say, “Beam down Sky Knight” and be on his way.
Really. He put on a little jetpack with missiles when
he could have become some unstoppable hybrid of man and fighter jet. Case in point: the “Orbital Interceptor”
system, which could turn Ace into a literal space shuttle.
The
transmissions probably went something like this:
“We’ve
got enemy aircraft spotted! Beam down
Sky Knight!”
“Ace,
they’re moving fairly quickly, and they’ve got heavy armaments. I recommend using something with a bit more armo-”
“Nope,
just beam down Sky Knight.”
“A-are
you sure? Because Sky Knight doesn’t
have a lot of armor – and that Exo-Frame really isn’t –”
“Don’t
really see where you’re goin’ with this.”
“Ace,
think about this. Those guns will tear
your skin to shre-”
“This
is time that could’ve been spent just beaming down Sky Knight you know.”
Of
course, as a boy I wasn’t able to grasp the Aristotelian complexities of an
American-conceived, Japanese labor-produced cartoon. It occurs to me now, as a marginally wiser
man, that Orbital Interceptor really shouldn’t have been used that much – only
for the most extreme of missions. Why,
you ask?
G-force. Orbital Interceptor is armor capable of, and
best suited for, going into space. The
sheer act of Ace accelerating fast enough to escape Earth’s gravity, break
through the atmosphere, survive with limited oxygen reserves, re-enter Earth by
passing through that atmosphere at superheated temperatures, and somehow
decelerate enough to make it back on his feet is something only possible in a
cartoon. Not to mention that in his
billion-dollar Halloween costume, Ace would rocket past anything he set his
sights on, liquefying his organs in the process. Repairing both the pilot and every last sheet
of metal on the system –and that’s excluding refueling – would be an
astronomical cost.
Oh,
and the weapon of choice? The
“Multiparticle Missile”. Yeah, that’s
probably going to be overkill.
Moral
of the story? Keep it simple, or you’ll
turn your guts to gravy.
Moderation is a virtue!
Have
you ever tried one of those sausages wrapped in bread? Some call them pigs in a blanket, others call
them kolaches (even though, according to Wikipedia, they’re two completely
different foods); the point is, they’re pretty good. And my brother should know: one fateful
Saturday afternoon, he woke up to find more than a dozen of the pigs in the
oven, just itching to be devoured. And devour he did. Before the day was done, he had consumed
eighteen of the meat logs; the next day, he was throwing up like crazy.
Ignoring
the fact that he could have enjoyed those pigs for days if he’d decided against
inhaling them, there’s a lot to be had from moderation. Greek philosophers knew it well, and valued
the virtue above the rest – and of course, The
Centurions is there to help us remember (lest we seek a trip to the doctor
to have our stomachs pumped).
The
villain of the Centuriverse is Doc Terror, a particularly nightmarish,
half-human, half-Lego block cyborg with a face that not even a mother could love
(same goes for his bald sidekick, Hacker).
As expected – nay, required, of an 80’s cartoon super villain, Terror’s
goal is to take over the world and thereby inherit virtually every country’s
problems…including, I assume, the ones he directly caused.
Lack
of foresight aside, Doc Terror is a pretty convincing villain. He’s given up his humanity, and would like
nothing more than to be rid of those pesky Centurions; he commands a robot
army, and I bet is willing to swear of the human race; he’s part-machine
himself, so he’d need a half-woman, half-machine if he ever got lonely.
Now
do me a favor, and count how many times I referenced “machines” or “cyborgs” in
that last part. If it’s anything more
than one, you win a cookie.
Let’s
break down the premise: men who don machine costumes fight men who ARE machine
costumes. There’s a tiny, yet
ever-important divide that separates the two – men who keep themselves separate
from mechanical control against men who have been consumed by a need to remove
their fleshy parts. Even a child could
see the difference (unless he spent all his time screaming “BEAM DOWN ORBITAL
INTERCEPTOR!”) and come to the conclusion that humans are human for a reason:
we shouldn’t be robots, but accept ourselves the way we are. More to the point, we shouldn’t let our desire
for pneumatic man-parts make us think that it’s a good idea to go overboard
with the cybernetics.
Even
fancy-pants scientists are well aware of the risks. Ever heard of Ray Kurzweil? He’s one of the experts in the field when it
comes to cybernetics, and the (near-inevitable) integration of man and machine. In his words, “We are beginning to see
intimations of this in the implantation of computer devices into the human
body.” Fair enough; my only hope, and
undoubtedly the hope of countless others, is that we don’t turn into heartless
machines that all want to conquer the
world – just imagine the mess that would cause!
Everyone wanting to be the boss, everybody looking out for number one,
everybody building robot armies…there’s not enough metal in the world for that!
Well, unless you count
Metallica, Iron Maiden, Judas Priest, Anthrax, Pantera, Slayer, Venom,
Testament, Gamma Ray...hey, maybe we do have enough metal after all.
If you’re happy, don’t be afraid to
show it!
No
doubt you’ve heard the song “I’m So Excited” by the Pointer Sisters –
particularly if you’re a fan of the movie Hot
Shots Part Deux. You know the
lyrics:
I'm
so excited and I just can't hide it
I'm about to lose control and I think I like it
I'm so excited and I just can't hide it
And I know I know I know I know I know I want you
I'm about to lose control and I think I like it
I'm so excited and I just can't hide it
And I know I know I know I know I know I want you
Er…okay,
so I guess that means…uh…the Centurions want someone? Come to think of it, there WAS a woman at the
helm of Sky Vault…
Actually,
this life lesson is a product of the show’s creators, not necessarily the brave
men who walk around in brightly-colored long johns in public. See, whenever trouble arose, the Centurions
would have to call upon Sky Vault for
help; the weapons systems would be beamed down not long after. However, what ensued in the seconds after
that was what animation prodigies call “stock footage”.
Ah,
stock footage. What a brilliant
invention: rather than re-animate the same sequence a thousand times, the
animation studio creates the scene once – typically at a higher quality than
the rest of the show – and uses that one scene for the duration of the
series. Granted, thanks to the different
types of weapon loadouts in the show, there was a bit of variation. But once you saw Sky Knight beamed down once,
you could go to the kitchen, grab a snack, and be back in time to resume the
plot.
So
why so much focus on this cheap shortcut?
Well for starters, it was only about thirty seconds long, and well worth
it to grab a tasty, tasty snack. And,
more importantly, it was the most stimulating thirty seconds a child (read: me)
could ever hope for.
For
the uninitiated, I – through largely unscrupulous means, barely-legal
infiltration of NASA databases, and a few all-nighters pulled with the
assistance of my home-brewed Elixir of Life – have acquired rare footage.
Notice
how the Centurions scream “Power EXTREME!” before they put their armor on. It goes beyond mere training to brainwash
children into buying Centurion toys; it shows that the Centurions (in-universe)
are happy to receive their armor – so they can go forth, and blow the hell out
of some evil robots! And did you hear
the music? They’re so ready for it, too,
you can tell by the way it went Ba-ZAM!
And the colors, they were all like, WHOOSH! And then that guy with the mustache, he was
sayin’, “Time to blow up some robots…with these TORPEDOES grafted to my arms!”
The
word of the day is officially “Power EXTREME!”
Proclaim it to your friends, and they’ll know you’re happy – that you’re
ready to seize the day…by the throat.
Proclaiming your joy to your friends brings misery to your enemies;
you’re at the top of your game, ready for anything, and no force on Earth can
stop you. Not to mention you’ll be taken
a lot more seriously – in this day and age, if you get called emo (a stigma for
particularly…depressing people), you might as well hide your face under a paper
bag. And it’s just too damn cathartic to
NOT shout “Power EXTREME!” (Yes, you must always
use capital letters when you say or write EXTREME). I have scientific proof that shouting such a
glorious phrase will boost your esteem to Roaring Twenties-era highs.
Do
it. Shout “Power EXTREME!” right
now. Go ahead, I don’t mind; I can wait;
I’ve got all the time in the world. Here,
I’ll even give you some ellipses.
…………………………………
Did
you do it?
Ha
ha! So gullible...
It’s okay to be different!
Quick! Name the other Centurions, or that creepy
clown guy from the Saw movies is
going to fill the room with poison gas!
Hurry, hurry, time’s running out!
Okay,
so there’s Ace McCloud…and, uh…Sky Vault lady…um…
Unfortunately,
the clown guy has already caught you in his trap – so much so that he can reach
into my brain and tell my fingers to type exactly
what you’re thinking. And now you’re
dead – you just don’t know it yet, because that gas was super-invisible and you
didn’t even know you were breathing it in.
That’s just how far he plans ahead.
In
all fairness to The Centurions, they
certainly know how to cover their bases.
In addition to Ace McCloud, who is touted as the team’s “daring air
operations expert” and clad in a blue and white Exo-Frame, there are two more
members of the regular team. Among them
is my personal favorite, Max Ray, the “brilliant sea operations commander” in
the green and black suit (and sporting a sweet ‘stache), and Jake Rockwell, the
“rugged land operations specialist”.
Wait. Ace McCloud? Jake Rockwell? Max Ray? Oh, that finally makes sense to me now! Because one of them covers the air, one of
them is on land, and one of them is in the ocean! It’s all coming together!
Despite
its drug-fueled premise, there’s a lot to be learned from The Centurions’ example.
After all, in the real world we have things like specialization and
division of labor – people should develop their skills, stick to what they do
best, and contribute those skills to the greater good. The economy is just one of many examples;
that’s why oranges come from Florida, cows come from Texas, and offensive
stereotypes come from New York. The Centurions is just a natural
extension of that; imagine how effective Ace would be if he suddenly had to
dive into an ocean with hundreds of pounds of pressure crushing his puny little
jetpack into a cube. Time to call in Max
for a job that big!
Although,
one can’t help but wonder just how much action Max got. Sure, he’s in business if there’s a giant
squid wreaking havoc on a submarine, or if some robotic hooligans are dumping
chemicals into a river, but you can’t help but wonder how effective he’d be if he
had to take on some bad robots downtown.
On the other hand, one of his assault systems turned him into a
hovercraft (with fully-functional weapons, at that), so water or not you don’t
want to face him and his awesome mustache in the streets. Chances are, you’re gonna get blown up.
So
at their worst, the Centurions – by way of specialization of powers – are like
Aquaman with a machine gun: not his forte, but he’ll still take names. At best…well, now would be a good time to mention
that the rugged Jake Rockwell has suits that turn him into a tank, the huge
walking robots from Star Wars, and a
motorcycle, all of which are equipped with some sort of rocket, machine gun,
massive missiles, chest-mounted Gatling gun, or some combination of those.
God
bless America.
COURAGE!
I
don’t like bugs.
Let
me make that as clear as possible; no matter what the shape, no matter what the
size, no matter how lethal, or how much pain they could cause, or whether they
crawl along the ground or fly in my face, I don’t like bugs. The sight of one from a distance is enough to
make me cringe; the buzz, enough to make me leap three feet to my right. The touch…well, we’re looking at a complete
nuclear meltdown. It probably has something
to do with my brother – innocent little angel that he is – shooting me in the
face with a Nerf gun dart covered with ants when I was six. Though my recollection of that day is a
little hazy (for obvious reasons), I do remember him tasting the swift,
palm-based justice of an indignant grandmother.
I
slept like a baby that night. At least,
when I wasn’t dreaming of ants.
I
imagine that it takes an iron will (among other hardened body parts) to get
over one’s fears. To that end, it’s easy
to see why people admire courageous men and women like police officers,
firemen, paramedics, and of course soldiers.
They’re heroes, plain and simple; whether or not they know fear, they
suck it up and save the day – because it’s all in a day’s work.
Now
– say it with me now! – let’s apply that to the Centuriverse (a universe so
nerdy, it needs a suffix just to prevent it from swallowing all life into its
gaping, abyssal maw). Think about it for
a minute: men who put on armor, arguably half-ton engines of death, who then
proceed to face off with an army of cold, unfeeling murder machines (and the
occasional zombie). It gets worse when
you consider each Centurion’s mode of transport; Ace, the flyboy, hurtles
through the air at hundreds of miles per hour in what typically equates to
metal pajamas, slapping against birds, lacking any form of seatbelt or airbags,
and squaring off with evil jet robots.
Max – hereafter known as Aquastache – dives into the ocean. Ignoring the crushing pressure and the
hellish darkness, there are things under the sea that no man was meant to see:
angler fish, eels, squid, and the perennial favorite of our loving God, the
Portuguese man o’ war…which is just a fancy way of saying “huge ass jellyfish
made of smaller jellyfish”. And Jake? Well, remember the motorcycle armor? Try doing that while your face, by some poor
engineering choices, is just centimeters away from pavement moving at sixty
miles an hour. Although, to be fair, he
did have a faceplate.
They
knew all the risks. They knew the
dangers, the threats, the stakes of their tireless battle. They knew that they would be engaging in
life-or-death encounters, precariously grafted to gun barrels as long as tree
trunks, in which the slightest malfunction in their loadouts could leave them
as sitting ducks in harsh conditions and under harsher fire. But, day in and day out, episode by episode,
they put up the best damn fight they could.
For peace. For justice. For the sake of putting smiles on the faces
of children everywhere who were too lame to ride bikes without training wheels.
America,
we have our new heroes – our new role models, philosophers, men above men, from
which we can learn many great and wondrous things. We can learn to accept ourselves, to roar
triumphantly at the heavens, to learn from our mistakes and be better for
it! We can make the push to make
Centurion technology a reality, so that we can ALL have jetpacks beamed down
from space stations! We can make our
dreams a reality! And all you need is a
little courage.
And
of course, the magic words: Power…EXTREME!
Wow,
how inspiring. I feel like I can take on
my own arch nemesis: the wasp that keeps buzzing around my patio. He’ll get his as soon as I get some
wrist-mounted rockets.
My face when I realized the wasp had reinforcements. I had to make a "tactical retreat."
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