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Friday, August 13, 2004

In defense of the middle ground. 

A transcription of a Q&A I found, on an old cassette tape. The Questioner sounds strangely like me, and the Answerer is simply an anonymous, faceless, unknown, certainly-not-a-known-comics-personality person.

This sort of shit is all the rage right now.

Q: For every meal, do you always eat something new? Never the same food twice, never the same ingredients twice, never the same dining experience twice?

A: What, are you crazy? Sure, maybe Wendy's isn't exactly filet mignon wrapped in cherubs' pubic hair, but it does the job, and I enjoy it. Sometimes making a big to-do about every meal is just a pain in the fucking ass, you know? I'm an animal, so I'm a creature of habit; habits keep people the fuck alive.

Q: Fair enough. And what's your movie-going habit? New movies all the time, always trying something different? Never the same director, or if so, only the Hipness Approved directors? Do you bother with genre movies or do you just want to see the latest weepy semi-autobiographical film about some guy struggling to be a gay Aborigine?

A: Nah, I mean, that's kind of a genre in and of itself, right?

Q: So you're not all about the art films.

A: They're cool. But sometimes I like kicking back and watching me some Die Hard, you know? Hans Gruber rocks.

Q: You make a valid point. It's a little easier to stomach repeat viewings of Animal House than it is Barton Fink.

A: Jesus, what kind of person wants to watch Barton Fink all the time? Be sure to tell me who they are, so I can completely fucking avoid them for the rest of my life.

Q: We're on the same page about a lot of things. I'd sooner shoot myself than live in an All Truffaut, All The Time world.

A: Yuck.

Q: Yuck indeed. What do you think of Chuck Austen?

A: Oh, fuck him and his mother. Twice. Sideways. With a forklift and a length of chain.

Q: Whoa. Where'd that come from?

A: He's mediocrity personified, a burden on the weight of the comics world. We will never ascend to the Nth Chakra of Morrison if we allow some Avatar of Sameness to pollute our collective waters.

Q: Uh...

A: Don't you see? We must be ALL genius, ALL the time, or we are failures!

Q: But Austen's stuff, for whatever reason, resonates with a hell of a lot of people. Isn't that special, or noteworthy? I understand the urge to strive for more, that's great, but --

A: WE MUST ALL BE MORRISONS AND MOORES! WE MUST HAVE NOTHING BUT 800 PAGE B&W COMIX-WITH-AN-X DISCUSSING NAVEL LINT AND SUMERIAN MYTHOLOGY, MAYBE WITH SOME ANALOGIES ABOUT WHY SUPERHEROES ARE MIND POLLUTANTS! WE ARE AS NOTHING UNTIL AUSTEN AND JOHNS AND WINICK BURN WITH THE CAPES THEY HAVE SULLIED!

Q: All Truffaut, All The Time.

A: I -- what?

Q: You heard me.

A: Oh.. oh my god. You're right. I'm such a hypocritical dick.

Q: No argument here.

A: I should totally burn in Hell.

Q: Pretty much.

A: I need to die right away. I think that'd be the right thing.

Q: Even brought a sword for you to fall on.

A: That's a pretty messy way to die.

Q: Like a stuck pig.

A: Thanks, man. Thanks for making me see the light.

Q: Shut the fuck up and die already.

A: No, really, I gotta thank you for --

(The rest of the interview tape is chaotic. The Questioner screams "DIE, FUCK!" over and over, punctuated by a sickening meaty thud. This carries on for approximately 45 minutes.

After that, a liquid gurgling, one presumes from the Answerer, while the Questioner tries to catch his breath.

Then the distinct sound of a zipper, lowering.

And then what can only be described as a continuous stream of water pouring onto something solid, ended with the Questioner's satisfied sigh, and another zipping sound.

The tape then ends.)

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