Looking for me?

Welcome to you if you have arrived at this site from the link on the Affiliate Marketing Forum. I believe the item you are looking for is this one. To get the background and the full story, you might need to read this entry too.

Seeing as you have arrived here to see a specific example, I should tell you that I am not that determined in my efforts to combat SPAM. The real experts are here.

However, I will take this opportunity to state that if there is any way in which the members of the Affiliate Marketing Forum can work together as an industry force against the scourge of the internet called SPAM, then I think the entire web-using world will be most grateful.

You want to call it what!?!?!

There is a saying that goes "to the pure , all things are pure". Those amongst you who are pure in thought, word and deed, may find yourselves puzzled by this story, which never quite gets to the point as to why Manchester City football club is going against the results of a public vote to name the new West stand at their stadium after highly decorated player and captain Colin Bell.

It seems that in order to save the club from embarrassment, the management has massaged the results of the ballot and the name which came in second place will be used instead. This is so the newly named stand might be referred to as the Mercer End instead of something which they fear would be far worse.

Gappy

I have just managed to dislodge a huge filling from one of my back teeth. Bugger!

Fortunately it isn't in the least bit painful, but it now means I need to book an emergency appointment with the dentist.

Since I am not a frequent dental visitor it is going to be a bit like a Diabolist trying to arrange an audience with the Pope.

Webcam is Working Again!

Yipeee! Thanks to a new USB Hub I have finally managed to get the webcam working and so you should now see a new image in the top right of this blog (under the word "Seeing").

At the moment the view is not particularly inspiring. It is the view from my office window and shows the security gates on the drive. From time to time they open to admit visitors. - I am allowed them you know!

At least the cam is working again, and is better than that awful frozen image of Oxford High Street.

That Homely Smell

Yesterday evening, and in accordance with family tradition, I baked my Christmas cake. Now the entire house is rich with the warm aroma of recently cooked cake. It's the sort of smell that makes a house like a home.

The cake is prepared so far in advance because, over the weeks to come, and like some kind of temporary family pet, it must be fed every other week with 1 tablespoon of brandy and 1 tablespoon of rum. By the time the days roll around to 25th December this traditional fruitcake will be so laced with alcohol that those eating it will be met with a heady miasma as they take their first succulent bite. No wonder Christmas is a time of such good cheer!

Between feedings it is kept wrapped in greaseproof paper and tinfoil at the bottom of a cool dark cupboard. It will only see the light of day again 48 hours before eating when I will ice and dress it with festive foliage and candles.

How Unique?

I have just finished completing an online application form to receive an industry publication. The last question on the form was:

In order to verify your request you must supply a unique identifier which is currently: What is your month of Birth?

Now surely, in order from my month of birth to be unique there would have to be no more than 12 subscribers to this particular publication. Or does it just mean that I am one of the first 12 people to apply, and that this unique identifier will change for the subsequent subscribers as soon as all the months of the year are used up?

Spam-a-likee

Is it just me, or is everybody else starting to receive spam mail from people who are almost celebrities? I don't mean that they are almost famous, but their names are only one or two letters different from real stars.

This week's avalanche of unwanted e-mail included senders with a curious names of: Macey Cray (inkjet printer refills), Brad Pritt (home loans), Keith Richardson (diet pharmaceuticals), Lucille Bell (adult videos), Rob Dillon (inkjet refills again), Hilario Clinton (male organ enhancement patches), Niall Young (making a fortune on auction sites), Kent Clarke (slimming pills again) and most bizarrely of all , Riccardo Burton who seems to have a close personal relationship with Ellie May, the farmer's daughter, and has been making some home videos he thinks I need to see!

There also appears to be somebody who is constantly setting me up on a blind date with buxom beauties. Since all these assignations appear to be taking place in the USA, and I have no current plans to go there, I think the delicate sensibilities of the little ladies are being needlessly tortured with the unfulfilled promise of my arrival.

Lastly on this topic, and it is a while since I did this last, but I have been getting spam sent on behalf of what I had hitherto thought of as reputable companies. The latest, and worst, offender is the Britannia Music and Book club. Working on the same principles as last time, their reward for constantly bombarding me with unwanted special offers is that I publish their email address (services@bclub.co.uk) so the spam crawlers can find it too.

[Added: 27th Oct 2003] I have just discovered that many of the spam-mails coming from what I thought were reputable companies are in fact being generated by a singe company called Bess Deals. I have never knowingly subscribed to their service, and yet they have sent me over 10 e-mails in the past seven days. Therefore, they deserve a similar award to all generators of unwelcome spam. advertisers@bessdeals.co.uk partner_opportunities@bessdeals.co.uk info@bessdeals.co.uk.

Fly Virgin Concord

I bet, like me, you thought your chance to fly Concorde was gone forever.

Imagine my delight and surprise when, in today's e-mail, there was a message from Mr Branson's company entitled "Fly Virgin Atlantic's Concorde".

Hastily I opened the e-mail to find that, yes indeed, there is a chance to say goodbye to Concorde in a very special way.

You too can be flying Virgin Atlantic's Concorde in commemoration.

Outraged

Britain's aviation heritage is being sold overseas.

I have just read on this site that the majority of Concord planes are due for retirement to museums in America.

One of the reasons Concord is now passing into history is because it was never a commercial success, not helped by the fact that so few of them were built. Had there been more of them flying worldwide the cost of ongoing maintenance would be much lower thus keeping it viable for longer.

Oh sure they want them now, but where were the American Airlines with their chequebooks when the aircraft was being built?

I hope these relics will be a constant reminder, to the millions of US citizens who see them, that Great Britain held a 27 year term of supremacy in commercial aviation and, that for all their bravado and ballyhoo, the USA has never come close to matching this achievement.

Farewell To Concord

At 4 p.m. this afternoon, Concorde will touch down at the completion of its last ever commercial flight.

Few people have ever had the chance to enjoy the luxury that is the Concorde experience, and none will ever again.

When I was young I used to dream of flying on Concorde, but it was always the preserve of the fabulously rich or internationally famous. I never believed that I would one day have the chance to fly at twice the speed of sound on the world's only commercial supersonic aircraft.

In January 1976, on the morning of Concorde's first commercial flight to Bahrain, I had convinced my mother that I was sick, and so I had to take the day off school. This meant I could watch the coverage on television, and I can still remember Raymond Baxter’s earnest commentary accompanying the fuzzy black-and-white pictures of Concorde leaving Heathrow and landing in the Middle Eastern sun. You can be sure that four o'clock this afternoon I will be glued to my television set as BBC2 provides coverage of its final landings.

Over on his blog DiamondGeezer has given a typical timeline of a flight on Concorde. I am fortunate that I can go one better as, earlier this year, and not a moment too soon, I achieved a 27 year old ambition.

What follows is a personal account of a flight I made on Concorde on March 14, 2003.

The Concorde experience is so much more than just a seat on a very fast aircraft. Anyone who has ever flown will know how difficult it is to get through an airport. First queuing to check-in and then hanging around walking to the gate and getting sat down after jostling with other passengers for overhead luggage space. All of this can take up to two hours prior to take off.

On the morning of my flight I arrived at Heathrow Airport in crisp bright sunlight, an our early. I was whisked straight to the Concorde check-in desk, where I said goodbye to my bags and was given my boarding pass and instructions on how to get to the Concorde lounge.












My Concorde boarding pass gave me rapid passage through the security and passport control areas of London's busiest airport, and I made my way directly to the lounge. On entering this arbour of plush opulence, my coat was taken from me, hung on a hangar and placed in a wardrobe. (This was the last time I was to see my coat until we landed at JFK). I selected myself a deep leather armchair facing out of the window overlooking two clean Concordes one of which was preparing to take us to America. As I looked out and admired the shape of aviation's most famous icon, the murmur of conversation was punctuated with the sound of champagne corks popping. As I tried desperately not to seem overexcited I snacked on canapés and downed a Bucks Fizz. Already I was seeing what Concorde service truly meant as my plate was cleared as soon as I had emptied it.

Since the fatal crash in July 2000 the operation of Concorde had been extremely safety conscious, and I had heard stories are Concorde flights could be postponed or even cancelled for the slightest of reasons. It was that thought that was playing through my mind as I sat waiting for the flight to be called. It would have been too cruel, that after a 27 year wait, and a significant financial investment to purchase my ticket, that my dream flight would be cancelled and I would have to slum it in first-class onboard a plain and slow 747 for my journey to New York. All fears of this kind melted away as I was invited to board the plane.

On entering the door of Concorde, I was so excited I nearly forgot my own personal ritual of glancing at the aircraft registration plate. I am not a plane spotter but I do like to make a note of the registration of each aircraft on which I fly. I was extremely pleased to see that the registration mark of this Concorde was G-BOAC! I couldn't have wished for better.

The first thing I noticed on entering the cabin of Concorde was just how small it was. Carrying only 100 passengers, the seat formation was 2/2. That is two seats on either side of a central aisle. My seat was 6D, a window seat on the right-hand side of the plane. Unlike the standard aircraft seat this was a firm leather and chrome armchair, the sort you find in executive offices. The other noticeable difference over standard aircraft was the tiny window through which I could see the ground engineers making final preparations for our departure.

Once all passengers were seated Captain Paul Douglas spoke to us over the intercom and told us a few details about the flight to come. We would be travelling at cruising altitude of 59,000 ft. with an anticipated journey time of three hours 30 minutes. He followed this little fact that the smug comparison that a Boeing 747 averages more than seven hours for the same journey. As well is the 100 passengers, the 203 foot long, 37 foot high aircraft would also be carrying 9 crew and 1,300 pounds of cargo up to 3,740 miles at a cruising speed of 1,336 mph. On takeoff we would be carrying 26,286 gallons of fuel, consuming an average of 5,638 gallons of fuel per hour, and the efficiency of the engines were not reach optimum until we were above 50,000 ft.

As I made myself comfortable and prepared for the awsome flight ahead I was asked what I would like to drink before takeoff. Without missing a beat I replied "Champagne, of course!" Whereupon I was handed a sparkling flute of Pol Roger, Cuvee Sir Winston Churchill 1986.

I was still sipping my 'poo when the aircraft pushed back away from the gate. This was like any other aircraft departure other than the fact that it was exactly on-time. We had a long, and rather firm ride to our takeoff runway (09 Left) and we were held for just a few moments , while we waited for an incoming SAS flight to land. In gleaming sunlight, and exactly as I had imagined it for many years previously, Flight BA001 turned onto the runway and began final preparations to takeoff.

At 11 a.m. precisely, Captain Douglas unleashed all 150,000lbs of thrust from the Rolls-Royce engines and we accelerated down the runway towards our takeoff speed of 250mph. During this race into the air my attention was split between gazing out of my tiny porthole and watching the figures on the warm yellow digital display board at the front of the cabin. This display showed direction, airspeed, altitude, external temperature and flight time remaining.

Immediately after takeoff Captain Douglas came on the intercom to tell us that we would be making a right hand turn which would commence 63 seconds after takeoff and at this moment he would also switch off the reheat technology which is what gives Concorde in super thrust. This power-back is part of the noise abatement practice. The turn completed, we were headed due west.

By the time we were overhead Reading in Berkshire we were already travelling at 570mph (mach 0.76), and at our altitude of 15,000ft.the outside air temperature was -12 degrees Celcius. We passed over RAF Lakenheath at 23,000ft., and as our country was at the time preparing to go to war with Iraq I saw the bombers parked on the tarmac like little dark moths. We then continued to climb and accelerate and by the time we reached the Bristol Channel we were at 26,000 ft. and accelerating through Mach 0.95.

It is only once we reached the far western tip of Wales that Captain Douglas reapplied full thrust and we accelerated through Mach One, thus breaking the sound barrier. We, now supersonic, passengers hear nothing to mark this achievement but Captain Douglas assures us that our passage is all too audible to those down below. I celebrated this rite of passage with more canapés and another glass of champagne which arrived as we reached 44,000ft . The gentle but noticeable pressure in my lower back was the only physical indication that we were now accelerating through Mach 1.72. A quick glance at the display board, told me that external to the plane was now a chilly -61 Celsius. The distance to go counter is showing 3460 miles and was counting down in 20 mile steps.

At 11:50am and we were travelling at 1,310mph, Mach 2, twice the speed of sound. Our altitude of 55,000ft was above the weather and the running was as smooth as silk. We continued to climb, but the outside temperature was now rising, but only slightly.

Admittedly with all this speed and the powerful engines outside the cabin noise was slightly louder than your average passenger jet. However, I passed the time listening to the in-flight entertainment, which was pumping Beatles tracks through the complimentary noise cancelling Sennheiser headphones.

Here we were at -55c outside and yet my little window was hot to the touch - not warm, hot! I guess that passing through the air at 1,310 mph causes a lot of friction and friction causes heat. It is at this altitude that one can truly see that the sky above is almost black and on the horizon you can see the curvature of the earth. I remember thinking that this is the closest I will ever get to being an astronaut.

With lunch comes the only disappointment of this entire journey. As a reminder we are now living in a post 9/11 world my choice of lobster medallions, followed by roast guinea fowl with goats cheese, and topped off with mulled berry pudding, all served on beautiful bone china, has to be eaten with cheap plastic cutlery. Thanks also to the terrorists, any trip to the flight deck was absolutely impossible.

There was no movie to watch on Concorde, and there were two reasons that this. Firstly, there really wasn't time, and secondly, the increased weight of all the movie projection equipment would mean that the aircraft would have to carry less people or less baggage.

I finished my lunch at 1.50 pm (GMT) two hours and 50 minutes into our flight. Shortly after we decelerated noticeably and within seconds we are back down to Mach 1.68 (1,050mph) and we descended to 38,500ft down from our cruise altitude of 55,500ft. We were back in the weather and back at the altitude of standard international airliners.

Captain Douglas announced the time at JFK Airport was 2 minutes to Nine and looking out of my window I could already see the coast of the USA. Runway 31 Right was the preferred arrival runway for Concorde and the Captain told us we had been granted this approach.

Just minutes before we touch down I was handed my coat. As I looked out of the window, seeing the skyline of New York, I reflected on all of the famous passengers which Concorde has brought to this city. Phil Collins (who used Concorde in order to play both the London and Philadelphia Live Aid concerts in 1985), Jay Kay, Victoria Beckham (she needed to get to New York for 3 wedding dress fittings), Robbie Williams (who dashed back to London in 2000 to accept 2 Brit awards in person), Diana Ross (who was arrested on Concorde back in 1999 after she reportedly assaulted a female security officer trying to search her), Sir Elton John, Sir Mick Jagger, Robert Redford, Luciano Pavarotti, Sir Sean Connery, Dame Elizabeth Taylor, Rod Stewart, Joan Collins and now me!

Not Impressed!

It seems there is another UK blogger who is lifting my content wholesale and using it for himself like he was the originator. The latest example is the publication of the Nemo picture - where he even had the audacity to use the same blog heading as me. He didn't even have the wit to change the file name of the image - now how stooopid is that!?

I am not about to give his URI here as I don't think he deserves the publicity. However, you know who you are and I am watching you sunny-boy!

The Results of Dogged Research

Very often Google can give you exactly what you want, sometimes considerably more than you bargain for!

One of my activities is to collate, edit and produce a newsletter for a UK mobile phone industry Trade Association. I often get lots of stories for inclusion, and sometimes I need to do a bit of online research to flesh out a particularly thin lead.

For the current edition, which should be distributed early next week, I had been told about the use of text messaging in health and fitness. I went on to Google and tried several searches. I did find the article I was looking for, but I also found something quite disturbing.

Brings a whole new meaning to the phrase "dogged by bad luck".

Nemo Found!

For those who want to cut to the chase and find out how the new film ends click here!

Caution, not suitable for kids or those who are about to have a fish supper!

Going Down to Rio

I don't like to pass on gossip, but then what else is one to do with it?

Yesterday as I spoke on the phone to a friend about the day's news events he happened to mention that he had met suspended England footballer Rio Ferdinand. This fact in itself was not surprising as my friend moves in very elevated circles as a result of his profession. What was surprising was the context in which he met him.

What are we to make of my friend's allegation that he met Mr Ferdinand earlier this year at an intimate, male only party hosted by, and held at the home of, the UK's most famous gay showbiz couple?

National Poetry Day

Unless one is a really talented poet, I think one of the most selfish things a person can do is publish their own attempts at personal expression in the form of verse. However, today is a special day and I am going to claim it as justification to waive all rules of common sense and decorum. This is an established behaviour and I equate it to Red Nose Day, when men dress up in women's underwear and wig claiming that is it "for charridee"; or any day in December, when pretty much all kinds of bad or unusual behaviour short of beastiality and incest are excused with a cheery "its Christmas".

I have decided to use the fact that today is National Poetry Day to inflict upon share with the world the first verse of a poem I wrote to an ex-lover during a period when I was frequently travelling abroad. The aim of the poem was to try and explain how I felt when we were apart. They say the true mark of artistry is when you give something of yourself. Well, the poem from which this comes was me attempting to do just that.

Sometimes I have to travel far
away by plane, by boat, by car
to work with folks you'll never know
how much I miss you when I go....

It went on in a similar vein for several verses and got quite sloppy towards the end. At the time I was rather proud of my Opus. Now it just reminds me of a time when I made many mistakes in my personal priorities and tried to justify them to myself and my significant other in ever more creative ways.

The Governator

Today I awoke to the news that, once again, the cult of celebrity is fundamentally changing the way of our world. Being a somewhat distant observer I am not totally up to date with the good political works of Govenor Schwarzenegger but unless I have missed out on some particulalry impressive parts of his resume, I am not aware that he has a history of performing beneficial civic duties, being a spokesman for social reform, defending human rights or coming up with a new and creative way to solve California's energy and water shortage issues.

OK, I go along with the fact that his predecessor, Gray Davis, didn't exactly do a great job and it is the $38bn budget deficit, high levels of unemployment and struggling schools which led to this mid-term election, but given that the state, the largest single economy in America, is in such a pickle, is an ex-bodybuilder, filmstar and triple heart-bypass patient really the best man to lead them out of the mire?

I can only hope that what I said in yesterday's blog entry is true. Power is not vested in the elected figurehead but in the influencers who work behind the scenes. The figurehead is only there to deflect attention away from the focus of power - the people who really run things. Now that is a job at which I am sure Arnie can exceed expectations.

Movers and Shakers

Some of the work I am doing at the moment is involving some pretty high-powered people. I used to work in Government but was never really that close to the action and always in a role of policy deployment as opposed to its formulation.

I am now being exposed to, and participating in, the game politic on a first hand and daily basis. This has shown me that real power does not sit where one might at first expect. Real power is not with the figureheads who make the decision, but with the people who are trusted advisors, and credible authorities on their particular topic.

Fascinating to me is how, with simply a good idea, a track record of knowledge in my area and the support of a couple of other respected individuals I am suddenly in a position of significant influence. My name is being bandied about and suddenly people who a month ago had never heard of me are not just taking my phone calls but are calling me back!

One small but illustrative example. I needed to persuade a multi-national blue-chip company to fund part of a project. The person I have to deal with was undecided but was to attend an industry dinner at which he intended to ask the advice of some colleagues. Having advance notice of this dinner meeting I used my contacts to obtain the invitation list, identify the key influencers, called them, and secured their agreement of the view that my project is a worthy activity and deserves funding. The outcome was positive, but even if it were not, the way I was able to set the agenda of the meeting and ensure there would be agreement around the table without my even being present has me awestruck. That, I consider to be real power.

Who am I? Just a guy who has had an idea which seems to be timely and has captured the imagination of a couple of influential people.

I am beginning to see how some of our world leaders got where they are today.

Immaterial World

It has to be said that I live quite well. I have been fortunate to gain and use an education to secure what might be called a "comfortable" lifestyle. This is nothing to brag about, and I am not unusual in Western Europe where I might be considered Mr Average. I am white, middle class and (gulp!) middle age.

This weekend I was at a social function outside my normal circle of friends. As the new entrant to an established "community" I found myself the centre of attention. This is quite normal behaviour. Members of a group need to classify, to understand where an outsider stands in the pecking order. In older generations this was based on such establishment factors of where one was educated (Eton and Oxford or Comprehensive and Redbrick). In modern society, or maybe just this particular sector, one's label of what you are seems to be defined by the labels you wear, the car you drive, the games you play. Success in this environment seemed to be measured not be a factor of where you are, but of how far you have come and the trophies you have collected along your way. Their obsession with "success" seems to be based on a very limited definition of that word.

Looking around my house I seem to have managed to get to this stage in my life without accruing a whole heap of material things. I don't wear labels - in fact I make a point of not purchasing anything with a visible label on it. My thoughts are that is someone has to see a label to know that something is good quality (and that isn't always a guarantee) then I believe it says more about their values than mine. I buy the stuff I want or need, but I don't shop to impress others.

However, where I have spent my money and, I believe, been extremely successful is on gaining experiences and in achieving ambitions. I have spent ridiculous amounts of money travelling to all parts of the globe, I have performed on the stages of London's premiere venues, worked in close proximity with people who weald significant power, read some of the world's greatest literature, but most importantly I have met and made friends with people the world over. I visit with them as often as I can, but in the mean time we keep in touch by phone, email and instant messenger.

When we add up how rich we are as individuals there are two sides to our "wealth" spiritual and material. I believe it is the things I have done and the people I have met which have contributed the most to my life's riches. The material things could all disappear tomorrow and those that couldn't be replaced by insurance are probably the items of sentimental value, which while useful markers of memory, are at the end of the day just that. They are a physical token of something which resides deep in my memory. The collective whole of which have all contributed to making me the person I am today, and the person I will continue to become.

At the party I found myself becoming resistant to the clumsy questioning as these social auditors seemed intent on examining only the material side of my balance sheet. I found myself becoming economical with the truth. I didn't lie, I just didn't tell them everything. I took a perverse pleasure in telling them that I drive 12 year old car with 120,000 miles on the clock, that I live in a two year old terraced house, that I only own one suit, that I bought my used stereo system from e-bay.

On the polished rungs of their social ladder I am probably the guy at the bottom holding it still so it doest slip and spill those climbing their way eagerly to the top. Who cares? Let them form whatever opinions they wish. I found that we have so little in common a week from now I doubt I will remember any of their names. I am sure they have forgotten mine already!

I do however wonder how I would have been perceived if I had told them the whole truth. But then again, would any of them really have had the intellect to appreciate it? They certainly didn't ask any of the questions which would have given me an opening to tell them.

I measure the worth of an individual against a completely different index. One that values character, honesty, generosity, humanity, humility and social responsibility. Am I right, are they right? Does either view have the greater merit?

LXG - NVG

Yesterday evening I was invited to a private showing of the new Sean Connery film. The League of Extraordiary Gentlemen is the latest in the series of ‘comic books made celluloid’ which seems to be the latest meme within Hollywood. The film is not due for UK theatre release until later this month and so here is the Sapientum review for your delectation.

The story centre's around Connery’s fictional character of Allan Quatermain, the hero of H. Rider Haggard’s King Solomon's mines. As a dastardly plot from an uber-criminal, known only as The Phantom, threatens to engulf the Victorian era in global warfare Quatermain is recalled from self-imposed exile in Africa (we assume Kenya) and, together with a handful of other fictional heroes, similarly gathered by the British Government is asked to work as in league to save the day. Those heroe's include Dorian Gray (Oscar Wilde) Mrs Harker (Bram Stoker) Captain Nemo (Jules Verne) Invisible Man (H. G. Wells). and Dr Jekyll/Mr Hyde (Robert Louis Stevenson). This group is then infiltrated by an American called Agent Sawyer. He is not fully named, presumably because the copyright of Mark Twain's character has not yet expired, but from his Missouri accent and wholesome American appearance we can assume that his unspoken given-name must surely be Tom. I also guess that his anachronistic insertion into this film, and his "heroic" actions to save everyone else’s skin is a sop to American audiences. In fact the longer the film went on, the more I saw the tale and its telling as an allegory of the relationship the USA has to the rest of the world in modern times. Certainly Sawyer’s habit of firing many, many rounds in the hope of hitting something, anything, while the British character felled his man with only one shot is an entirely accurate portrayal of the "shoot first and ask questions later" behaviour we continue to see from America's involvement in the Iraqi situation.

As a whole, the film was a fantasy romp. The story line was minimal, character development non-existent to the point where I didn’t care if any of the characters lived or died (or became undead) as what passed for a story progressed. The whole mess could not be saved by the huge contribution of the CGI animators. Their work only served to make the visual effect dazzling and even more confusing.

I think you can tell that I was not impressed by the movie, and if I had actually paid to see it, I would have felt cheated. Connery does his best with the lines he is given and even manages flashed of humour, but this film is certainly not up to his status as an actor.

Sapientum Sixty Second Summary
World threatened by masked megalomaniac, fictional heroes assemble, provide adequate demonstrations of special powers, plan to save the world is hatched, traitor suspected, plan executed, lots of explosions, traitor uncovered, confronted and confounded, world saved, baddie dies, so does one of the heroes (or does he?) American takes all the credit! Verdict: Save your money and have a much better time reading all the books in which the characters originally appeared.