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Infamy, thy name is White Sox. We’re past the point of embarrassment here

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Infamy, thy name is White Sox. We’re past the point of embarrassment here

It was another day and another loss for the Chicago White Sox, but there was something extra special about Sunday’s defeat.

Sunday’s loss, a standard 13-7 defeat at the hands of the Minnesota Twins, marked their 20th in a row — a nice round number to give this franchise the national stage it deserves. No team had lost 20 in a row since the 1988 Baltimore Orioles, who lost 21 times in succession.

In Chicago, we’re used to the White Sox losing. It’s kind of their thing. But 20 in a row? We’re past the point of embarrassment here.

In Chicago, we’ve been laser-focused on the Sox being on track to break the 1962 Mets’ modern-day record of 120 losses, but now we’re at the point where they could surpass the 1961 Philadelphia Phillies’ record of 23 straight defeats.

Infamy, thy name is White Sox.

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On NBC Sports Chicago’s beloved, painfully honest postgame show Sunday, host Chuck Garfien was rattling off some familiar insult statistics.

“Twentieth loss in a row, 40 games back, 1-12 against Minnesota,” he said. “I could go all day on this, 1-12 against Kansas City …”

That’s when Frank Thomas interrupted him. Thomas is, of course, the greatest player in franchise history and a semi-regular co-host on the show. As a hitter, Thomas was a stickler for details. On this show, too, he wanted it to be accurate.

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“Sixty games under .500,” he said. “Under. Sixty games.”

That’s when Garfien realized his mistake. With the loss, the White Sox had dropped to 27-87. Talk about a Big Hurt.

“Sixty games,” he said. “I said they were 40 games under .500.”

With a little theatrical flourish, he slammed his stack of papers on the carpet.

“They’re 60 games under .500!” Garfien yelled, before settling back in his chair.

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GO DEEPER

Chicago White Sox reach new level of futility, extend losing streak to 20 games

That’s when Ozzie Guillen, Garfien’s everyday co-host and the team’s World Series-winning manager, brought up the stat that I came up with recently: If you take out the Sox’s two franchise-record losing streaks, they still have the worst record in baseball.

See, it’s one thing to be the worst team in baseball in a singular season. Someone has to do it, after all. But add to that a 14-game losing streak and a 20-game (and counting) losing streak, and it makes them a contender for the worst baseball team in modern history. A laughingstock for the ages.

The ’62 Mets were an expansion team with a certain sense of whimsy. They had Marvelous Marv Throneberry and Casey Stengel. Jimmy Breslin’s book, “Can’t Anybody Here Play This Game?” was a classic, and seven years later, the Amazin’ Mets were world champs.

But the White Sox have been around since 1901. Their franchise record for losses is 106, which should be eclipsed before Labor Day. It’s been a long way down from the rebuild that was supposed to bring multiple championship parades to Chicago.

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Two years after the Sox won 93 games and the AL Central, they hit what we thought was rock bottom. That was last year when they lost 101 games and Sox chairman Jerry Reinsdorf made the move none of us saw coming by firing his longtime front-office duo of Kenny Williams and Rick Hahn. Reinsdorf promised a quick turnaround behind new general manager Chris Getz. No one believed Jerry then because why would they? He has no trust left with the fans, not after all these years.

For some reason — OK, money — the team kept manager Pedro Grifol, whose managing record is currently 88-188. But he’s been a dead manager walking all season, and after the trade deadline passed, the focus quickly turned to his job status. It almost seems cruel that Getz and Reinsdorf haven’t fired Grifol yet. Maybe they’re waiting for him to win a game so he can go out on a high note.

“That means Pedro is 100 games under .500 since he got the job,” Guillen said. “Hoo, hoo boy.”

Guillen, who led the Sox to their World Series victory in 2005, said he needs to see a psychologist because he’s been more angry and sad than usual lately. The reason?

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“I don’t think I was that bad a manager, but they picked Pedro in front of me,” Guillen said to laughter on the show.

After Tony La Russa stepped down following health issues in 2022, Guillen was given a token interview for the open job, the one that he gave away in 2011. Guillen has wanted this job back for years, but the previous regime of Williams and Hahn didn’t want him back and they had no intention of hiring him two years ago. I agreed with them but only because the organization needs to move forward, not backward.

Guillen added: “I swear to God on this, when Rick Hahn called me and said I don’t have the job, he said, ‘We found the next Ozzie Guillen.’”

While Hahn was trying to compliment Grifol, Guillen, who went 678-617 (.524) in eight seasons, sure doesn’t appreciate the comparison now. But I bet he’s getting a kick out of how bad the Sox are without him.

A lot of fans want Guillen to immediately replace Grifol if and when the team fires him, but why would he want that headache? If I were any of the coaches on Grifol’s staff, I wouldn’t want to take the job, either. You don’t want to have to answer questions about this team, this season, twice a day.

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Now, in what could be his waning days in the job, Grifol took some time to do what a lot of failed coaches and managers do in a Reinsdorf regime: kiss up to the boss.

“I’ve said this before and I’m going to say it again,” Grifol said according to the Sun-Times and Chicago Tribune. “This gets taken out of context and somehow it gets turned around over and over again, how people want to perceive it. Jerry’s a winner, OK? He’s an absolute winner. He’s a competitor. No, he’s not content. Who is?”

People have funny definitions of what makes someone a winner, especially when they work for a perennial loser.

The Bulls are under .500 since their actual, absolute winner, Michael Jordan, retired in 1998. The Sox have made the postseason just seven times in Reinsdorf’s 44 years of ownership. The 2005 playoffs were the only time they won a series, and 2020 and 2021 were the only years they reached the playoffs in back-to-back seasons.

But Grifol is speaking to an audience of one, even as he’s left dangling.

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If the Sox get swept in Oakland this week, they could break the ’61 Phillies record at home Friday against the Cubs. The atmosphere will be somewhere between funereal and riotous.

I can’t imagine Grifol is on the top step for that one. How could you do that to him? How could you insult the fans’ intelligence by keeping him around?

It’s an awful situation for everyone, but this isn’t just on Grifol, though he’s certainly culpable for making a bad situation worse.

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What we learned from this MLB trade deadline and the execs who drove the market

While he’s focused on building up the farm system, Getz tried to add some defense to last year’s slapdash fielding team to make the major-league product more palatable, but he failed in a very public fashion. The core hitters who are always hurt were, surprise, injured again early in the season (Yoán Moncada has played only 11 games and is in the team’s top 10 for bWAR), and the season fell off the rails with a 3-22 start. The starting pitching, at least, has been solid, and Getz and his staff have bolstered the organization’s pitching outlook.

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That’s all part of the upside to losing: It allows a front office the runway to improve an organization, sometimes fairly quickly. That was the plan after the 2016 season, and it worked until it didn’t. But in his first trade deadline, Getz’s moves were widely panned, and new baseball rules are limiting the Sox to the 10th pick in next year’s draft.

Money is going to be an issue. The Sox are having another attendance decline, and their TV broadcasts, which were a highlight for the team, are now thought of as the worst in baseball. The team’s deal with NBC Sports Chicago is ending and a new RSN (in partnership with the Bulls and Blackhawks) will debut this fall.

It’s going to be a long road back to respectability. At least there’s still the TV pre- and postgame shows, which were as unfailingly honest and critical as ever Sunday. Those shows, the Campfire Milkshake and the pitching in the minors are the only things the organization has going for it.

The White Sox lose and lose and lose, and they’ve gotten so much practice, they now might be the best to ever do it.

(Photo of Nicky Lopez reacting to Sunday’s loss: David Berding / Getty Images)

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What Happens When We Die? This Wallace Stevens Poem Has Thoughts.

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What Happens When We Die? This Wallace Stevens Poem Has Thoughts.

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Whatever you do, don’t think of a bird.

Now: What kind of bird are you not thinking about? A pigeon? A bald eagle? Something more poetic, like a skylark or a nightingale? In any case, would you say that this bird you aren’t thinking about is real?

Before you answer, read this poem, which is quite literally about not thinking of a bird.

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Human consciousness is full of riddles. Neuroscientists, philosophers and dorm-room stoners argue continually about what it is and whether it even exists. For Wallace Stevens, the experience of having a mind was a perpetual source of wonder, puzzlement and delight — perfectly ordinary and utterly transcendent at the same time. He explored the mysteries and pleasures of consciousness in countless poems over the course of his long poetic career. It was arguably his great theme.

Stevens was born in 1879 and published his first book, “Harmonium,” in 1923, making him something of a late bloomer among American modernists. For much of his adult life, he worked as an executive for the Hartford Accident and Indemnity Company, rising to the rank of vice president. He viewed insurance less as a day job to support his poetry than as a parallel vocation. He pursued both activities with quiet diligence, spending his days at the office and composing poems in his head as he walked to and from work.

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Wallace Stevens in 1950.

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Walter Sanders/The LIFE Picture Collection, via Shutterstock

As a young man, Stevens dreamed of traveling to Europe, though he never crossed the Atlantic. In middle age he made regular trips to Florida, and his poems are frequently infused with ideas of Paris and Rome and memories of Key West. Others partake of the stringent beauty of New England. But the landscapes he explores, wintry or tropical, provincial or cosmopolitan, are above all mental landscapes, created by and in the imagination.

Are those worlds real?

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Let’s return to the palm tree and its avian inhabitant, in that tranquil Key West sunset of the mind.

Until then, we find consolation in fangles.

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Wil Wheaton Discusses ‘Stand By Me’ and Narrating ‘The Body’ Audiobook

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Wil Wheaton Discusses ‘Stand By Me’ and Narrating ‘The Body’ Audiobook

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When the director Rob Reiner cast his leads in the 1986 film “Stand by Me,” he looked for young actors who were as close as possible to the personalities of the four children they’d be playing. There was the wise beyond his years kid from a rough family (River Phoenix), the slightly dim worrywart (Jerry O’Connell), the cutup with a temper (Corey Feldman) and the sensitive, bookish boy.

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Wil Wheaton was perfect for that last one, Gordie Lachance, a doe-eyed child who is ignored by his family in favor of his late older brother. Now, 40 years later, he’s traveling the country to attend anniversary screenings of the film, alongside O’Connell and Feldman, which has thrown him back into the turmoil that he felt as an adolescent.

Wheaton has channeled those emotions and his on-set memories into his latest project: narrating a new audiobook version of “The Body,” the 1982 Stephen King novella on which the film was based.

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“I like there to be a freshness, a discovery and an immediacy to my narration,” Wheaton said. He recorded “The Body” in his home studio in California. Alex Welsh for The New York Times

A few years ago, Wheaton started to float the idea of returning to the story that gave him his big break — that of a quartet of boys in 1959 Oregon, in their last days before high school, setting out to find a classmate’s dead body. “I’ve been telling the story of ‘Stand By Me’ since I was 12 years old,” he said.

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But this time was different. Wheaton, who has narrated dozens of audiobooks, including Andy Weir’s “The Martian” and Ernest Cline’s “Ready Player One,” says he has come to enjoy narration more than screen acting. “I’m safe, I’m in the booth, nobody’s looking at me and I can just tell you a story.”

The fact that he, an older man looking back on his younger years, is narrating a story about an older man looking back on his younger years, is not lost on Wheaton. King’s original story is bathed in nostalgia. Coming to terms with death and loss is one of its primary themes.

Two days after appearing on stage at the Academy Awards as part of a tribute to Reiner — who was murdered in 2025 alongside his wife, Michele — Wheaton got on the phone to talk about recording the audiobook, reliving his favorite scenes from the film and reexamining a quintessential story of childhood loss through the lens of his own.

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This interview has been edited and condensed.

“I felt really close to him, and my memory of him.”

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Wheaton on channeling a co-star’s performance.

There’s this wonderful scene in “Stand By Me.” Gordie and Chris are walking down the tracks talking about junior high. Chris is telling Gordie, “I wish to hell I was your dad, because I care about you, and he obviously doesn’t.”

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It’s just so honest and direct, in a way that kids talk to each other that adults don’t. And I think that one of the reasons that really sticks with people, and that piece really lands on a lot of audiences, and has for 40 years, is, just too many people have been Gordie in that scene.

That scene is virtually word for word taken from the text of the book. And when I was narrating that, I made a deliberate choice to do my best to recreate what River did in that scene.

“The Body” Read by Wil Wheaton

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“You’re just a kid,

Gordie–”

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“I wish to fuck

I was your father!”

he said angrily.

“You wouldn’t go around

talking about takin those stupid shop courses

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if I was!

It’s like

God gave you something,

all those stories

you can make up,

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and He said:

This is what we got for you, kid.

Try not to lose it.

But kids lose everything

unless somebody looks out for them

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and if your folks

are too fucked up to do it

then maybe I ought to.”

I watched that scene a couple of times because I really wanted — I don’t know why it was so important to me to — well, I know: because I loved him, and I miss him. And I wanted to bring him into this as best as I could, right?

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So I was reading that scene, and the words are identical to the script. And I had this very powerful flashback to being on the train tracks that day in Cottage Grove, Oregon. And I could see River standing next to them. They’re shooting my side of the scene and there’s River, right next to the camera, doing his off-camera dialogue, and there’s the sound guy, and there’s the boom operator. There’s my key light.

I could hear and feel it. It was the weirdest thing. It’s like I was right back there.

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I was able to really take in the emotional memory of being Gordie in all of those scenes. So when I was narrating him and I’m me and I’m old with all of this experience, I just drew on what I remembered from being that little boy and what I remember of those friendships and what they meant to me and what they mean to me today.

“Rob gave me a gift. Rob gave me a career.”

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Wheaton recalls the “Stand By Me” director’s way with kids on set, as well as his recent Oscars tribute.

Rob really encouraged us to be kids.

Jerry tells the most amazing story about that scene, where we were all sitting around, and doing our bit, and he improvised. He was just goofing around — we were just playing — and he said something about spitting water at the fat kid.

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We get to the end of the scene, and he hears Rob. Rob comes around from behind the thing, and he goes, “Jerry!” And Jerry thinks, “Oh no, I’m in trouble. I’m in trouble because I improvised, and I’m not supposed to improvise.”

The context for Jerry is that he had been told by the adults in his life, “Sit on your hands and shut up. Stop trying to be a cutup. Stop trying to be funny. Stop disrupting people. Just be quiet.” And Jerry thinks, “Oh my God. I didn’t shut up. I’m in trouble. I’m gonna get fired.”

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Rob leans in to all of us, and Rob says, “Hey, guys, do you see that? More of that. Do that!”

Rob Reiner in 1985, directing the child actors of “Stand By Me,” including Wil Wheaton, at left. Columbia/Kobal, via Shutterstock

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The whole time when you’re a kid actor, you’re just around all these adults who are constantly telling you to grow up. They’re mad that you’re being a kid. Rob just created an environment where not only was it supported that we would be kids — and have fun, and follow those kid instincts and do what was natural — it was expected. It was encouraged. We were supposed to do it.

“The Body” Read by Wil Wheaton

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They chanted together:

“I don’t shut up,

I grow up.

And when I look at you

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I throw up.”

“Then your mother goes around the corner

and licks it up,”

I said,

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and hauled ass out of there,

giving them the finger over my shoulder as I went.

I never had any friends later on

like the ones I had when I was twelve.

Jesus,

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did you?

When we were at the Oscars, I looked at Jerry. And we looked at this remarkable assemblage of the most amazingly talented, beautiful artists and storytellers. We looked around, and Jerry leans down, and he said, “We all got our start with Rob Reiner. He trusted every single one of us.”

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Jerry O’Connell and Wheaton joined more than a dozen actors from Reiner’s films to honor the slain director at the Academy Awards on March 15, 2026. Kevin Winter/Getty Images

And to stand there for him, when I really thought that I would be standing with him to talk about this stuff — it was a lot.

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“I was really really really excited — like jumping up and down.”

The scene Wheaton was most looking forward to narrating: the tale of Lard Ass Hogan.

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I was so excited to narrate it. It’s a great story! It’s a funny story. It’s such a lovely break — it’s an emotional and tonal shift from what’s happening in the movie.

I know this as a writer: You work to increase and release tension throughout a narrative, and Stephen King uses humor really effectively to release that tension. But it also raises the stakes, because we have these moments of joy and these moments of things being very silly in the midst of a lot of intensity. ​​

That’s why the story of Lard Ass Hogan is so fun for me to tell. Because in the middle of that, we stop to do something that’s very, very fun, and very silly and very celebratory.

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“The Body” Read by Wil Wheaton

“Will you shut up

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and let him tell it?”

Teddy hollered.

Vern blinked.

“Sure.

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Yeah.

Okay.”

“Go on, Gordie,”

Chris said.

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“It’s not really much—”

“Naw,

we don’t expect much

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from a wet end like you,”

Teddy said,

“but tell it anyway.”

I cleared my throat.

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“So anyway.

It’s Pioneer Days,

and on the last night

they have these three big events.

There’s an egg-roll for the little kids

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and a sack-race for kids that are like eight or nine,

and then there’s the pie-eating contest.

And the main guy of the story

is this fat kid nobody likes

named Davie Hogan.”

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When I narrate this story — whenever there is a moment of levity or humor, whenever there are those brief little moments that are the seasoning of the meal that makes it all so real and relatable — yes, it was very important to me to capture those moments.

I’m shifting in my chair, so I can feel each of those characters. It’s something that doesn’t exist in live action. It doesn’t exist in any other media.

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“I feel the loss.”

Wheaton remembers River Phoenix.

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The novella “The Body” is very much about Gordie remembering Chris. It’s darker, and it’s more painful, than the movie is.

I’ve been watching the movie on this tour and seeing River a lot. I remember him as a 14- and 15-year-old kid who just seemed so much older, and so much more experienced and so much wiser than me, and I’m only a year younger than him.

What hurts me now, and what I really felt when I was narrating this, is knowing what River was going through then. We didn’t know. I still don’t know the extent of how he was mistreated, but I know that he was. I know that adults failed him. That he should have been protected in every way that matters. And he just wasn’t.

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And I, like Gordie, remember a boy who was loving. So loving, and generous and cared deeply about everyone around him, all the time. Who deserved to live a full life. Who had so much to offer the world. And it’s so unfair that he’s gone and taken from us. I had to go through a decades-long grieving process to come to terms with him dying.

“The Body” Read by Wil Wheaton

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Near the end

of 1971,

Chris

went into a Chicken Delight

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in Portland

to get a three-piece Snack Bucket.

Just ahead of him,

two men started arguing

about which one had been first in line.

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One of them pulled a knife.

Chris,

who had always been the best of us

at making peace,

stepped between them

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and was stabbed in the throat.

The man with the knife had spent time in four different institutions;

he had been released from Shawshank State Prison

only the week before.

Chris died almost instantly.

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It is a privilege that I was allowed to tell this story. I get to tell Gordie Lachance’s story as originally imagined by Stephen King, with all of the experience of having lived my whole adult life with the memory of spending three months in Gordie Lachance’s skin.

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Do You Know the Comics That Inspired These TV Adventures?

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Do You Know the Comics That Inspired These TV Adventures?

Welcome to Great Adaptations, the Book Review’s regular multiple-choice quiz about printed works that have gone on to find new life as movies, television shows, theatrical productions and more. This week’s challenge highlights offbeat television shows that began as comic books. Just tap or click your answers to the five questions below. And scroll down after you finish the last question for links to the comics and their screen versions.

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