So I've got sort of a mini-internship thing going on, heading out today, back a week from Monday. Flying off to beeeee-YOO-tiful Birmingham, Alabama to spend some time on the newspaper stuff there, doing all kinds of fun "I'm a big kid now" stuff.

So in other words I'll be gone for a week.

And how will you entertain yourselves? Well, I've got an idea.

You could visit...

BLOGS BY PEOPLE WHO ARE FUNNIER THAN ME

Eat More People - Rick is a unique, one-of-a-kind soul, and there's plenty of people who are very thankful for that. His blog's sort of an all-purpose writing one, dealing with fiction at large instead of just comics, and it's a good, fun, funny read. Go there or die. Choose wisely.

The Unofficial John Westmoreland Memorial Tribute Webring - Milo, in all of his EISNER NOMINATED glory, seems to be reporting from the very fringes of sanity on a daily basis. The money posts seem to be Gojira, though I like the "regular" stuff (insofar as such a word can be applied) just as well.

Progressive Ruin - Mike has a nose for the weirdest, funniest covers and stories in the days of comic yesteryear, and unlike the rest of these bastards, happens to be a class act. Whenever I comment on a post of his, I sorta feel like the asshole half-brother with no teeth that shows up and makes everyone smile and nod and squirm. It's great!

ChaosMonkey's Abysmal Pit - Mark comments regularly 'round these parts, so you're familiar with him. He had that stellar Comics I Shouldn't Own series going for awhile, and for that alone he'll die first when the revolution comes.

MORE INFORMATIVE BLOGS THAN MINE

Thought Balloons - Duh. Kevin patrols the border between comics and mainstream media like no one else can even come close to, and he's just such a nice young man, too. Chances are you already know about this place, but by plugging Kevin I hope he can mention my name to the Dark Lord the next time he sacrifices a few virgins to maintain his blogging vigilance.

Near Mint Heroes - If Kevin covers the media, Shane covers.. absolutely everything else that could be of interest, ever. His internet prowess is sort of humbling, and I'm convinced he's actually just a netspider turned sentient that likes Booster Gold comics. Well, we all have our pet theories.

Polite Dissent - Scott's a frickin' military MD or something, so it's perverse that I should even be allowed to mention him, as if I were some kind of equal. His main focus is exploring the correct (and frequently incorrect) usage of the medical arts in comics. It doesn't read like a dry textbook, either; check out how upset he got about a particular issue of X-Treme X-Men for a great, great time. I love it when people get really pissed about something they know a lot about. It's edutainment!

Cognitive Dissonance - Johanna quite frankly has her shit together. She talks about comics that never get discussed anywhere else in the blogo-mart, and frequently cites articles and studies in other fields of entertainment for analysis and comparison to the world of comics. Never a meaningless post, unlike, say, every single one of mine.

A COMIC STRIP THAT'LL DO YOU RIGHT

Suburban Tribe - Just discovered this one. Two guys and two girls that know each other via work, and their (mostly) plausible lives. There's a fair amount of absolute laugh-out-loud moments, and the rather distinctive cartooning style is quite effective. This guy could get syndicated if he wanted. As always, you do yourself a disservice if you don't start at the beginning and work your way forward.

Well, that's enough pimping for now, isn't it?

Back in 8 days.

(Jeff's done his part in this, too. As has Kevin, much as he resisted it.)

Here's what you do.

First, you construct a time machine and go back in time. Not that far, let's just say... oh... to the gestation of the Ultimate universe at Marvel.

Then you let me go into the boardroom and kill everyone and take over, and here's what I do.

I don't let this new universe idea become just an area to rehash the Same Fucking Stories, but everyone's wearing leather this time. No.

I stage the British Invasion. (Okay, the UK Invasion, but "British Invasion" is sexier and has pre-existing connotations.)

I hire in just a few folks to kick off a new Marvel U, call it 617 because I'm fucking clever, and I hand it over to the lads from the UK.

Alan Moore gets named Chief Creative Officer of 617. He's the big cheese, the head honcho, who guides the general direction of all the titles under him and keeps things fresh and invigorating. The writers who handle the titles under him don't follow his orders, per se, but he keeps them all in line and makes sure things are going smoothly.

He also gets writing duties on The Fantastic Four. Why? Because 617 is going to be Moore's baby, and the FF kick it all off. Cassaday gets art duties. I don't care that Cassaday's not from the UK; shut up.

Warren Ellis gets control of the X-Men. Why? Because what they are by all rights embodies everything that Ellis is about: science fiction, specifically the evolution of man beyond his normal qualities, by will or by accident. Art goes to, of course, Darick Robertson.

Grant Morrison gets control of Dr. Strange and the various magical and magic-oriented characters in 617. This one's pretty obvious. Magic has lost its importance in the Marvel U to the point of nonexistence, and there's no one else I'd trust more to make it the vital, truly mind-bending sector of 617 that it needs to be. Magic should be transforming, baffling, frightening, and fascinating. Morrison does that better than just about anyone (okay, except maybe Moore, but he's already busy.) He gets Glenn Fabry, because I like that guy, dammit.

Garth Ennis gets control of Nick Fury, Black Widow, the Punisher, and other various military and military-related characters. So far, the Marvel U has treated the military presence to be either Hulk's punching bags, a collective of James Bonds, or G.I. Joe clones. Ennis is the man to correct this, and correct it properly. I can't decide if the artist should be Steve Dillon or Carlos Ezquerra. I'm leaning toward the former for sentimental reasons.

Who gets the Avengers, you might ask? Or Spider-Man?

Ah, fuck 'em. Who needs 'em?

RULE NUMBER ONE: for six issues, these guys more or less have to play ball. Set up the origins, define the team line-ups, keep the same basic powers and whatever personality traits they want (and throw out the rest), and get the ball rolling.

RULE NUMBER TWO: Keep it basic. We don't really need to see the 617 Owl... ever. No franchise (FF, mutant, military, magic) gets more than three titles per. Crossovers are restricted to three issues a year, and you better have a fucking good reason for it. Make it truly make sense and add to the story, not a ploy to drive up sales.

After that... FREE FOR ALL!

No holds barred. Nothing is sacred. Anyone can die. Anyone can turn. Think Cyclops would be much more interesting starting off as and remaining a villain, maybe as Magneto's trusted lieutenant? Go ahead. You want Mephisto claiming dominion over half the United States -- and succeed in keeping it? Go ahead. You want Jean Grey to die and stay fucking dead? Shit, I'll give you a bonus.

Anything at all. Go wild. Kill whoever you like, just make it worthy of a story. No holds barred, no need to adhere to the regular 616 storylines. Make up new characters. Fuck the status quo square in the pooper. I'm all for it.

Oh, but wouldn't that be wonderful?

(To any of you who might chime in with crap like "oh, why would these artists want to work on someone else's property? only when all of us are doing creator-owned projects will we all be free...", you get a pre-emptive "Shut the fuck up." This is the comic book world equivalent of Fantasy Football, and I'm going to revel in it for a couple days.)

That is all.

Well, everybody's doing it, and who am I to ignore the trends of the blog-hive?

MY AWESOME DREAM TEAMS

Frank Miller and Lynn Varley, on Power Girl: Because that'd be really fucked up, don't you think?

Jeff Parker, on Black Widow: Well, he likes the international espionage, doesn't he? And the parallels between a relatively free-agent Black Widow and his Interman are pretty obvious. Make her ditch the cat suit and stick to something a bit more traditional, and you've got yourselves a solid book.

Jeph Loeb and, I dunno, Michael Turner or something, on West Coast Avengers: Because they deserve no better. Fucking hacks. The fanboys would probably make this a 150,000-sales-per-issue title, though.

Steven Grant and Charlie Adlard, on The Punisher: Why Steven Grant on that title? If you're asking that question, please leave my blog right the fuck now. Why Charlie Adlard? Because though he keeps a consistent style, he's still very much a chameleon of an artist: witness the relatively cleaned-up fun of Astronauts in Trouble or the pavement-tough edge of Codeflesh. The latter will be called for. Keep it B&W, too, and no grayscale either. Fits with Monsieur Castle's worldview.

Chris Claremont and John Byrne on Uncanny Wolverine: Here's my brainstorm: instead of having Wolverine appear in half the books that Marvel puts out every month, why not just condense all those appearances into one all-new book? Follow the exploits of like 15 Wolverines on one team as they wear eyepatches, say smug things at each other, and pop claws threateningly at half the Western Hemisphere whenever they run into the slightest bit of resistance. Sadly, I see this book making about a billion dollars.

Mike Mignola, Ghost Rider: So long as he gives GR a brain. I wouldn't mind seeing a big flaming skull done up Mignola-style for 100+ panels an issue.

Brian Azzarrello and Eduardo Risso, on Kingpin: Duh. No capes or masks, though. Just Kingpin, his crime cartel, and the streets.

Michael Lark, on Hellblazer: Okay, any writer I can think of to go with Lark has already been on the title. Hellblazer is like the farm team for Ken's Favorite Writers. As has been established in Gotham Central, though, Lark is pretty comfortable drawing trenchcoats, rain, and smoking. Write that man a check!

Denis Leary and Frank Quitely, on Green Arrow: So I'm watching The Ref the other night, and Leary's got this pointy goatee and mustache thing going on... and he's ranting, right? At Kevin Spacey, about why he hates upper-middle class types. And it clicks, baby. This guy is the Green fucking Arrow. Marvel gets "Hollywood" writers all the time, why can't I? Imagine the piss and vinegar, imagine the humor, imagine slyness inserted in the cracks between huge dialogue balloons by Quitely. It'd be a thing of beauty.

Angelina Jolie and Rosario Dawson, on My Bed: That would rule.

Garth Ennis and Joe Kubert, on Captain America: Stick with me, here. I'm not talking about modern Cap. I'm talking about WW2 Cap, and without the fucking uniform already (maybe the mask, but that's it.) Make Cap a prisoner of war, give him a German counterpart to fight, whatever; just fuck with his head while taking him seriously. At that point in his career Cap is a guy hepped up as a PR move and not "the embodiement of an ideal," so he can still be quite human. Me, I'd love to see Cap with a goddamn Thompson and a five o'clock shadow, kicking ass all through the Western Front.

Andy Diggle and Jock, on Nick Fury: Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D.: Retrograded as well, to the 1960's. The title would require both humor and intense action, along with a highly distinctive visual style, and this pairing have got all that and then some.

More to come, on my next post, titled "Dream Teams: The Big Idea." It's big, baby. Big like my johnson.

This is fun, I gotta admit, even if it's totally fanboyish.

Hmm. This looks like a slight deviation from previous covers. Everyone seems relatively... okay with things. Even if they could use new pants.

Hmm.

Courtesy Fedx:

(So, no blogging today. I had a lot to do! Leave me alone.)

I remembered, once upon a time, that I used to live with a guy who was going through one of those three-week bartending schools. He'd try out new concoctions all the time, and he had a knack for great drink names. My two favorites were the

SCORCHING CASE OF HERPES

or the

RAGING LESBIAN ORGY

...both of which are great drink names.

Random Schmo: "Hey, barkeep, I'd like a Raging Lesbian Orgy."

Barkeep: "Wouldn't we all."

Rick had a pretty good one too.

Random Schmo: "Hey, barkeep, I'd like a Blowjob from Steve Guttenberg."

Barkeep: "Wouldn't we... wait, what? Fuck off!"

So come on. Hit me up with some good drink names.

(I suppose I should do some actual comics blogging soon, huh? It's cool. I got another one of those whopper posts germinating inside the carcass of an ex-girlfriend even as we speak.)

First, a huge shout-out to Annie Carlson of I'm Blue, because she's hooking me up with a cornucopia of E3 swag for no other reason than she is filled, as a particular publisher might say, with the milk of human kindness. Remember Annie? She of the awesome Batman open mike thingy?

(I also secretly suspect she's giving me stuff because I rule.)

So go hit up her strip. If you do tabletop RPGs, or computer games, or console games, or you like The Funny, then you're in good hands.

Now. Manga. Because I have ruled that I don't have enough shit draining my already laughable disposable income, I've decided to expand my horizons a bit and get in on this whole "dancing circles around Western comics" thing. But I don't really know where to start.

I picked up the first volume of Lone Wolf & Cub, because duh, and THE ROOMMATE has lent me a copy of the first Trigun volume (that I have not read yet)...

Quick question:

If the manga is done in what we would call back-to-front order, does that mean my eye should flow right to left on big two-page splashes?

Anyway. I need some guidance, here. I've already heard some stuff mentioned on the blogo-mart (Iron Wok Jan, GTO, Battle Royale), but I figure the regular readers of my blog might know my tastes fairly well, and assign titles accordingly.

Any ideas? Or do you want me to get specific about what I like?

Well, okay, you probably know this already. But.

Journalista is officially dead.

Long live Thought Balloons.

David wishes to know:

I'm running an RPG based on charaters like the Shadow. I've been running the campaign for a while, but I want to make sure I'm doing stuff right. Or at least, close to it. The characters are based in 1923 Chicago, but the "Golden Age of Heroes" is obviously right around the corner. Some have powers, but none that really throw things off. Any recommendations for comic books to read?

You have your assignments, Viewers At Home. Answer in the Comments section if you could.

Creed breaks up.

(Will's response: "So I guess there is a god. What a great day to be alive.")

Which I find via Shane. Who finds it via Augie.

The article in italics, my response in ... regularese:

"The biggest rock band of the past decade has broken up."

FUCK. YOU. Biggest rock band of the past decade? According to who? Balding, ponytailed record exec's in their early 40's? Note to idiots: record sales do not properly represent a band's importance.

""We had gotten together two or three times and nothing happened," Tremonti explained. "We got our instruments and played, but neither of us was taking it seriously. We were just running in circles. There wasn't a vibe like on the previous records. It felt very joblike. We knew that it would take us years to get a record out.""

Translation: We realized we are FUCKING HACKS producing the same tired, uninspired, let's-rock-out-but-bear-a-positive-message "rock."

Fuck you, Tremonti. Rock isn't positive. Rock isn't about holding arms wide open, or bringing your baby daughter out on stage. That shit may sell with the Disney FM crowd, but the rest of us want to string you up by your quasi-mullet and take potshots at you with flaming scalpels.

Rock is about snorting coke off a dead underage hooker's nipple while your guitarist glues the maid to the ceiling in your fucking hotel room.

"The animosity apparently began to churn two years ago, while Creed were promoting 2001's Weathered on a tour that Tremonti and drummer Scott Phillips described as long and grueling."

Cry me a fucking river, Phillips. There are a hundred thousand bands who would sacrifice their mothers to Satan to get the kind of deal handed to them that you guys did. Those people will work half their lives and scrape the money together month after month for the privilege of doing what some record exec handed to you, because you happened to fit the Trend of the Week and were unthreatening enough to appeal to a wide audience (of morons who want unthreatening rock.)

"Among the ventures that Stapp was exploring was a clothing line called Screamline and forays into acting."

No comment necessary.

"The pinnacle of Creed's problems took place in Chicago in December 2002. Whether Stapp was inebriated or simply sick, as he had claimed, his performance was so terrible that some members of the crowd sued the band for sucking."

I never quite figured out how to feel about that particular lawsuit. I mean sure, it was funny. If I were the judge I would've laughed. Probably if I was the lawyer who got chosen to prosecute, I'd giggle and say "sure, fuck it, why not?"

On the other hand, these people paid money to go to a Creed concert, and then bitched about it sucking. That's kinda like going to a Jimmy Buffett concert and complaining about how you kept running into your dad's friends all night, isn't it?

Maybe these people finally figured out, that fateful night in 2-oh-oh-2, that they'd been paying a lot of money and devoting a lot of time to really shitty music. They were confused. They were angry. They were perhaps a little scared. They wanted their goddamn money back for being brainwashed.

At the same time: fuck 'em. What do you want, a disclaimer on Creed tickets that says "WARNING: WILL GRANT ADMISSION TO A CREED CONCERT"?

"To the workaholic Tremonti this wasn't acceptable, so he figured he'd vent his creative juices in a side project.

Although the speed-metal-minded Downshifter never got off the ground (Tremonti had envisioned working with Hatebreed's Jamey Jasta and Slipknot's Joey Jordison), just the mere thought that his songwriting partner would apply his talents elsewhere bothered Stapp."

Oh, man, we completely missed the comedic album of the year right there.

"Whether you loved them or hated them, Creed had always inspired strong sentiments in anyone who heard their music. Tremonti and Phillips just want the band's contributions to be recognized.

"When Creed came out on the radio seven years ago, there was a lot of poppy radio music," Tremonti said. "I think 'My Own Prison' was the first song [in a long time] with a serious tone and a message behind it. After that, a lot of radio programmers started programming more serious-sounding rock and roll, and I think that's what I'm most proud of. Creed perhaps opened the doors for some other bands who may have had a message.""

I'd comment on this, but I'm afraid I might break my keyboard in anger. There's so much being said here that's TOTALLY AND COMPLETELY FALSE I wouldn't know where to begin, just... RRRRRRRRRRRRR!

FUCK!

Breathe, Ken. Breathe.

""Even if you loved us or hated us," Phillips emphasized, "remember us.""

No. Fuck you. I will not succumb to what you and I both know is your last stab at immortality. You're goddamn right I hated you, you and everything you stood for, you and everything you ushered in and allowed, and the ability to write you off completely (after already ignoring your increasingly even-by-your-standards poor ejecta) is a welcome one. Languish in obscurity, asshole.

Anyway. This would have been better if it had happened at the height of their career, but... one horribly shitty overinflated worthless drivel-merchant band down, 700,000 to go.

I was going to refrain from making any comments about Reagan's death, because yes, it sucks when someone much beloved dies. Even if he's not much beloved by me. Yeah, I think he did horrible things for this country and sculpted its psyche in such a way that we could feasibly fuck up our earned sympathy after 9/11 in precisely the way we did without feeling a pinge of guilt about it. "Trickle-down economics" is code for "Grab your ankles and lube up, bucky, because this is going to hurt."

But calling him "the devil"? Okay, let's try to get a grip, here. That's the same kind of unattractive, polarizing rhetoric that makes the rabid right look so bad. After you say something like that, the only difference between you and Ann Coulter is that she has much nicer legs.

It also implies a willing, knowing evil. Reagan didn't fit that description. Sure, he was willfully ignorant on a lot of topics... but that's not the same as being actively complicit. Being a stupid man is not the same as being a bad man.

Milo George said all that had to be said in one sentence, thankfully:

"It's quite refreshing to see a flag-draped coffin on the mainstream media, isn't it?"

ZING!

This is about the greatest thing ever, this is.

Frank Miller and Will Eisner talking at each other for 250 pages. Yeah, I know it was announced awhile ago, but no release date ever seemed all that official... till now. I understand Eisner and Miller don't always see eye to eye on anything, either. That can only make things more interesting.

July 14th. Mark your calendars.

(I have no funny comments to add.)

ITEM!

Rick at Eat More People confesses: "I truly am a woman in a man’s body"!

Read the rest here!

Exclamation point!

(Yeah, it's cover/poster madness here at Ringwood Ragefuck. I owe this one to disobey.com's rather massive collection of horror movie poster scans.)

Boy, nothing quite screams "BUY ME FOR YOUR CHILD, PARENTS OF AMERICA!" like hands reaching out of a comic book to throttle a kid, eh?

Goddammit, I love EC Comics.

(More EC cover greatness can be found here.)

This is for me, so I don't forget. The rest of you can move along now, maybe comment on what you think horror is.

Newsarama article talking with retailers about small press books.

Johanna Draper Carlson asks, "What is horror?"

John Jakala says, "Hmm. If only there were a comics blogger knowledgeable about the horror genre who could stop by and help us out."

(The cow says, "moo!")

Jakala was probably talking about Rick, but when has that ever stopped me from sticking my nose in?

My overly verbose post:

Matt Maxwell: Horror is Science Fiction without the science. For instance, if "Walking Dead" had a story turn where the zombies were revealed to be the byproduct of a virus from outer space and that there was a team of researchers who'd found a vaccine in time to save humanity, then it would seem far more science fiction than horror.

Me: I can't buy that, because that can just as easily be turned around on sci-fi. For instance, in Night of the Living Dead, the reasoning for the dead rising up to consume the living is explained as radiation trailed into the atmosphere by a falling satellite. In Day of the Dead, much of the movie is spent on the debate between the half-mad scientific mind in the Last Bunker, Dr. Logan, and the half-mad military wing. Dr. Logan is intent on training the zombies and figuring out what makes them tick. He even gives some passable explanations for the zombies' peculiar nature (the impulse to eat flesh, etc) to the main character and, by extension, to the audience.

Does that make NotLD or DotD sci-fi? HELL no. It just gives the audience a quickie reason, some back story, and gets right back to the horror. Being horror has nothing to do with explanation or premise or McGuffin and everything to do with mood and underlying theme.

(For a long time I thought sci-fi was just fantasy or horror with scientific trappings -- witness Star Wars or Aliens, as you cited, respectively -- but that's nonsense. Each of these genres may borrow from the other, since the three are more closely related than any other genre is, but they are all seperate and distinct entities.)

Sure, a lot of horror doesn't rise above genre conventions; the bad horror crap prefers to wallow in the conventions rather than utilize them as tools to get to something deeper. TWD does a great job of going farther and deeper, using horror conventions to highlight the beast in men and women; crap like the Scream trilogy is all ABOUT the conventions and navel gazing, and as an example of the genre is completely worthless.

What really, really, REALLY ticks me off in the discussion of any genre fiction (and this is not pointing fingers here, I'm just chatting), but especially those of horror and superhero, is when someone looks at an exemplary piece of work from either one -- say, Silence of the Lambs or Dark Knight Returns -- and says "oh, that's not just some HORROR film, that's a good psychological thriller," or "that's not a superhero comic! That's a commentary on blah blah blah blah." These people apparently refuse to recognize that horror (or superhero) works produce a hell of a lot of crap, JUST LIKE ANY OTHER GENRE, but the genre itself CAN be deep and CAN explore meaningful themes, in the right hands. Yes, those "surpass the genre" stories are rare, but that's what makes them special. If excellent storytelling were easy, everyone would be doing it.

[ /rant ]

Nor can I buy that horror is defined by its ability to inspire fear, as... another person said and I forget who it was. Sorry. :)

Yeah, a lot of horror exists specifically to illicit primal fear reactions (Texas Chainsaw Massacre is pretty much an onslaught, so relentless that the viewers' nerves are entirely frayed by the time credits roll, and Halloween is a much more subtle exercise in evoking fear), but there's plenty of room for dread, misery, and introspection. Pretty much no direct fear is inspired in Anne River Siddon's (I'm almost positive I spelled her name wrong) House Next Door; the book's overwhelming mood is impending dread, worked up to gothic proportions.

I think horror is, at its root, an exploration and examination of the baser side of humanity. Selfishness, greed, arrogance, and man's basic inhumanity to man (to bring out the eldest of chestnunts.) What's a vampire or a cannibal but a person who benefits off the misery and pain of others, and does so willingly? What's a werewolf but an unchained id let loose to wreak all the damage societal and moral restraints keep locked down? What's a ghost but lingering guilt, or rage, or regret, or sorrow, that a person just simply CANNOT let go? What's a zombie apocalypse scenario but an interesting and colorful way to strip away the excess garbage of everyday life to show how people TRULY interact with one another?

(People eat the latter up by the truckload, by the way. What else do you think the TV show Survivor is?)

So, ah. That's what horror is, to me. I hope that answers the question posed.

From THE ROOMMATE, I get a link to see exactly how long it would take before I got cornered in the showers were I to end up in the Big House.

And I quote:

It would take you 11 days to become Bubba's bitch!

You are worth 3 cartons of cigarettes and 2 porno mags!

I don't even last two weeks, man. Also, they don't specify what kind of porn the magazines contain. I figure I'm worth maybe 2 issues of Juggs, and about 1.5 issues of Hustler. But, you know. I'm not an expert.

How about you?

Well, Greg Gatlin said, and Greg Gatlin delivered. There's some sneak preview pages up, along with some plot summaries, for the Dead@17: Rough Cut special thingy.

Like so.

Couriers 3: The Ballad of Johnny Funwrecker.

Nuff said.

So I'm engaging in a little illegal software pirating with my buddy Wil, exchanging a WAD file from Final Doom because his is corrupt. The download's going slow, so he checks around online on pir8 sites (or whatever the kids call them these days on their "inter-net") for the file, and he finds...

The Aryan Network games.

There's a part of me that has to laugh because, I mean, come on. If I felt better about humanity as a race, I'd say all of this was a joke.

But of course it's not. Which makes me want to take something blunt and apply it, harshly, to a large segment of my fellow white brethern. Motherfuckers can't even spell, and the page is littered with broken image links, so... I'm pretty sure we have nothing to fear.

"Words in Germen Only" indeed.

Hey, jackass: Do you think the "master race" has any room for complete and total fucktards?

(BEST PART: Check out that link on the bottom, to vote for this site on the Top 100 in Nationalism! Quasi-Nazis have webrings? That's fucking adorable.)

HOUSTON, WE HAVE NO PANTS.

Via Shane, in his typically surly fashion:

Western Tales of Terror is a brand new comic anthology featuring some the biggest and brightest talents in the comics industry, come together for an Old West blood-n-guts filled good time.

That sort of has "Ken Lowery Must Give Us All His Money" written all over it.

Bastards.

For that inimitable title featuring ex-Menudians in peril, Scurvy Dogs:

"Have you ever been on a ship at sea? Ridden the tall waves and smelled the crisp sea air, with the wind blowing on your face? Well, neither have the guys who made SCURVY DOGS, but it's still pretty funny." - Some Asshole at the Mall (actually me)

"SCURVY DOGS is a suitable replacement for local anesthetic if you ever get a root canal." - A Dentist You Never Want to Visit (still me)

"Every time you buy an issue of SCURVY DOGS, an angel loses its cherry." - Jesus Christ (me again!)

A sequence of questions I snapped up from Herr Bacardi:

1. Do you tend to go to the nearest store, the best store, any store, or does it matter?

Best store, which is NOT the nearest one. There's like five comic book shops between me and Zeus, but Zeus is the only one around offering a 15% discount... and they bag ALL comics you buy, pull list or no.

2. Ladies, what books do you tend to purchase, or what kind would you like to purchase (if you are a male please leave blank or supply what a girlfriend reads)?

Sadly, Mrs. Ringwood is dead. But I made a lovely suitcase out of her.

3. What one thing would you add or change about your most frequented store (i.e. What is the worst thing about the store)?

It's hard to get them to remember to order me stuff. They stock a great, vast selection of TPBs, from Ultimate titles to AiT/PlanetLar to Slave Labor, and it's in a relatively cosmopolitan section of town, so they have by necessity a very wide variety of selection... but shit, man, how many times I gotta ask for the second Nocturnals TPB before it shows up?

4. What one thing would you not change (i.e. What is the best thing about the store)?

Oh, the staff. I get baffled every time someone talks about elitist, snobby, unhelpful staff, because these guys (and gal) are just about the most helpful people around. They know their shit, they're accessible, they're funny, they're good with recommendations (they got me started on Demo and Y the Last Man), they kept me informed on what my favorite writers were doing before I discovered the blogo-mart, etc, etc. Good folks.

5. Do you read any small press comic books currently? Which one(s)? (examples: Lone Star Press, Avatar)

Sure. If you write a good story I'll give it a shot, I don't care who you are. DC and its imprints probably make up the largest percentage of my purchases, but I buy AiT/PlanetLar, Avatar, Rocket, SLG, and a pretty hefty amount of Oni TPBs. See? People can like superhero comics and B&W indie books. It's madness!

6. What back issues do you buy?

Uh, none of the above. Only time I did this was when my store had its annual 75% off all backstock sale... then I go fucking mad, trying to catch obscure works by writers I like, and getting the last parts of the Hitman series not collected in TPB (WHY, DC, WHY!) So that's where I get my Jenny Sparks mini, or Adventures in the Rifle Brigade, and so on and so forth.

7. How do you decide what comic book to buy? Writer, artist, character, word of mouth, etc?

All of the above, as J.B. said. Writer gets precedent over all other factors, because I come to a comic book for story first and everything else second. (If something was written by Chuck Austen but the art was, in this bizarro hypothetical, Eduardo Risso, I'd be seriously torn about buying it.) I don't generally follow characters unless someone good's writing them. Word of mouth can go a long way -- it's why I'm on 75% of the series I'm on now.

8. Do you buy strictly current age comic books or do you buy older comic books? What kinds?

All shapes and colors, brother. Older comic books are necessarily more expensive, so I don't deal with them as much -- and their collections are hardly less so. As it stands, I'm setting aside $100 for some of those EC slipcase collections.

9. How do you feel about graded comic books?

To be blunt: they're for fools. Do you buy these comics to enjoy them, or what? That's like buying a toy and keeping it in the packaging. Oh wait... you probably do that too, don't you?

10. What comic book related merchandise do you buy?

Hmm. I bought a Viper Comics hat. A Punisher skull cap I won at the premiere. I have the odd action figure, almost all given to me as gifts. Some posters. A neat bust of the Pilgrim from Just a Pilgrim I bought in a moment of weakness ("but it was on SALE!"). The PVC figure set from Dark Knight Strikes Again. A mug with the Punisher skull on it.

11. What do you read if you are not reading comic books?

Name it. I read Entertainment Weekly and Premiere on a regular basis, as far as magazines go. Nonfiction, biography, autobiography, fiction... just got done reading that Inner Views: Filmmakers in Conversation book, read Fast Food Nation not so long ago, now I'm reading an anthology of Victorian ghost stories.

12. What do you buy at comic book conventions?

Not a lot. I got a signed print from Michael Lark at the last one I went to (I've been to two, so far), plus his book of sketches... the aforementioned mug, Viper Comics hat, and a fair portion of posters were gotten at the two cons I've been to... and that's it. I don't go there to buy shit. Well, okay, I do... but that's secondary to meeting the pro's. That's the real con payoff, for me.

Scryptic Studios.

Kevin Melrose is trying to be all stealthy about it, not talking about it on his blog or anything, but he's got a hand in this. It's an all-purpose writer's resource for the comic book scene (and beyond), and by god if this wasn't sorely needed. Larry observes rightly that there'll be the usual critics with their stupid snark bullshit, but I dunno how this can be anything but positive.

So the post isn't "new," in the sense that I can be slow to get to things, but I just now sat down and really read it. And it's fucking fascinating.

From Ezrael's fantabulous blog, Once I noticed I was on fire, I decided to relax and enjoy the fall:

Well, let us consider. First off, it's probably untrue that the artist is wholly without influence on what he or she creates... anyone who has read a few books by Samuel Clemens knows there is a similarity to them that indicates co-authorship. Likewise, an examination of works by Picasso or Brughel tells you who made them: the author is stamped onto his or her work, the painter or sculptor shows through in the art itself. This goes for almost any creative endeavour. However, consider the possibility that no one, be she artist or lab technician or politician, really resides wholly and separately within the self. Julian Jaynes theorized that humanity evolved the self fairly recently, no later than the Bronze Age, and that the presence of gods and so on in ancient Homeric epics was an example of the mind's evolution... that before a certain point, when a man wanted to make war he would go and consult the oracles and his own fragmented psyche would speak to him and he would consider it the promptings of a god. Imagine that Jaynes was wholly incorrect. What if it isn't that we had to create a single self out of many selves at all... what if our intellect, our vaunted creativity, our human individuality and inventiveness is the result of our brains learning to tune in to a higher existence? In essence, what makes us human does not reside in our brains at all... we draw from outside the 'divine spark', the inspiration (from the Latin for 'breathing in' as they believed that we drew in such with every breath we took) that allows us to create a work of art, a book of mysterious insight, or even a powerful new weapon that drives small spears into the breasts of charging enemies or fleeing prey.

An interesting idea, and one I entertain from time to time. I'm not sure I agree; or, at least, I don't agree exactly. It's kind of late, my brain's tired, so I'm going to try to do this point by point... and most likely it'll just come off like a random scattering of thoughts. Well: cope.

1) This sounds vaguely similar to Alan Moore's concept of "ideaspace" (or whatever it was he called it.) I've only read about this concept secondhand, so... apologies all around if I get the details wrong. The basic concept is that there's a sort of, well, an "ideaspace," a realm of human experience and knowledge and creativity that all humans, but especially artistic, mathematical, and scientific types, are in tune with. This is why you might see general ideas, catchphrases, pop culture trends, and similar stories ("memes," though I'm coming to loathe that term) pop up all over the place at relatively the same time, with no previous interconnection between the sources. The idea is that humans all over the globe are tapping into the same parts of "ideaspace" all at the same time.

Me, I think calling this phenomenon "ideaspace" and assigning it metaphysical baggage is a way of putting shiny rims on the really shitty Pontiac that is "social trend." It's unnecessary and gaudy. I am an absolute believer in the butterfly effect, that all occurences are a product of incalculable number of previous elements, from individual psychology to what the weather was like 100 years and 5 days ago; I get plenty a hairy eyeball when I suggest that humans are essentially robots, whose output is nothing more than what input is received by the world (nurture) processed through random genetic make-up (nature). We are, in short, fabulously sexy computers who wear socks.

In short (too late, ha ha), I believe free will is an illusion, a label slapped over unfathomable number of causes-and-effects that our minds simply aren't big enough to grasp. It's easier (and more romantic) to say we have souls and real, true, personal identities, than it is to actually figure out what drives us.

2) "Julian Jaynes theorized that humanity evolved the self fairly recently, no later than the Bronze Age, and that the presence of gods and so on in ancient Homeric epics was an example of the mind's evolution... that before a certain point, when a man wanted to make war he would go and consult the oracles and his own fragmented psyche would speak to him and he would consider it the promptings of a god."

Eh, all right, but I think this is fancifying a pretty pedestrian occurence, as with the "ideaspace" bit above. One of the most brilliant things I've ever heard was when an english teacher of mine said that a society's complexity could be measured by its popular fiction. And what were stories of Greek god debaucheries and demi-god heroes slaying monsters but their time and place's popular fiction? They might not have called it fiction, but it was certainly entertainment.

Relatively simple civilizations would produce something as morally straightforward as Beowulf, while a more complex society might produce, I don't know, Dude, Where's My Car?

(Har har, but you get my point.)

So I'm not seeing the evolution of self where Jaynes is, enamored as I am with the idea of a person going to the Oracles at Delphi or some such to consult their fractured psyche. I'm seeing the evolution of society.

Hmm. I'm sure I had more, but I've lost my thread.

Talk amongst yourselves.

R	Rich
I	Industrious
N	Noisy
G	Great
W	Worldly
O	Odd
O	Orderly
D	Dainty
R	Relaxed
A	Appealing
G	Graceful
E	Enjoyable
F	Fast
U	Unforgettable
C	Crazy
K	Keen

Name / Username:

Name Acronym Generator
From Go-Quiz.com


Courtesy of Johnny, who is, apparently, "yum."

I know some of you have had trouble finding copies of Demo or Scurvy Dogs lately (I'm looking at you, Johnny), and as it so happens I've been told (by a little bird, of course, with a beard) that by god, Brave New World Comics is going to help you the hell out. In short:

From now until I say different, anybody here who can't find a copy of their favorite AiT release at their local shop is invited to call me (661-259-4745) or drop me an email (atom@bravenewworldcomics.com) and with your credit card, not only will I send it out to you within 48 hours, but I'll pay for the shipping (international guys, I reserve the right to split it with you) and even throw in one AiT/PlanetLar floppie of your choosing. So far, by my count, that means one of the following DEMO #1-5 or Scurvy Dogs #1-4.

That's actually pretty great. The store I go to stocks the AiT/PlanetLar books pretty well, but I realize we cannot all know the glory that is Zeus. Mosey over to Delphi to get the rest o' the details.

My personal recommendations? If you like the superhero concept with a side order of smarts, then it's Codeflesh. If you want some genuinely fascinating and original fantasy, then y'all want some Jax Epoch and the Quicken Forbidden. And it is completely impossible to go wrong with the publisher's flagship title, Astronauts in Trouble. (You want the hardcover with all the stories.)

As for the free floppies, I'd say try out Demo #6 or Scurvy Dogs #1. Seriously. Great stuff.

Metallica: Some Kind of Monster -- Cool. One of hard rock's most famously tense bands, and studying tense bands is always fascinating stuff. Look at Guns N' Roses. Faith No More, one of the All Time Greatest Bands of All Time, pretty much actively hated each other; and in that tension some of the best albums of the last 20 years were made. I believe it was Spin, in a very rare moment of non-fuckheadedness, that said FNM's Angel Dust was like listening to a band self-destruct on CD. Yeah, this'll be an interesting one. "You don't have to be a fan..." etc.

Stander -- The trailer does a great job of setting mood and a piss-poor job of telling you what the hell the movie's about. From what I understand, this is a movie based on the life of a cop in South Africa who robbed banks on his lunch hour, then came back with his badge on and attempted to "solve" the robberies himself. He got busted, got loose, and became a full-time criminal. The concept of a cop robbing banks on his lunch hour alone is enough to get me in.

Open Water -- Eek. It's like these guys dug into the reptilian segment of my brain to find one of my basest fears, and made a goddamn movie out of it. I'll probably see it for just that reason.

“Hold the Foley in one hand,” she said. “Now, take that other hand and just choke that chicken, son. Just choke that chicken!” All the other nurses joined in, laughing, “Choke that chicken! Choke that chicken!”

Yeah, you need to read the rest. I hope stories like that are a regular feature on Polite Dissent.

Everyone always uses the phrase "anal retentive" or "anal" in conversation to signify a person who is meticulously clean, neat, orderly, or whatever about something. It's used so casually that no one bats an eye.

But why doesn't anyone ever use the Freudian opposite in conversation: "Anal expulsive"? That's so much more... vivid, don't you think?

No justice in this world.

You mean to tell me nothing has happened in the past two days worth talking about?

Okay, Steve Dillon doing some art on Hellblazer #200... that's pretty cool. Anyone else know what Dillon's up to lately?

The discussion about relative nerdity in comics, plus a call to tell Jeff about how YOU got back into comics... well that's pretty fun so far. I typed up a horrendously lengthy reply, surprise surprise.

In fact, Jeff's just got his shit together, lately.

EISNER-NOMINATED (wanted to say it) Milo George has uncovered what Evil's theme song is like. So there's that.

Also, I guess, Jakala is now the blogo-mart's Unintentional Porn Spotter. That's always fun, and damn if we haven't needed that position filled (heh heh) for awhile.

I've found that only very few people have the right to call Larry a "beautiful man." Am I one of those people? Probably not, but when has that ever stopped me?

Rick is too busy eating people to post. That makes me a sad panda.

This is pretty unfortunate... unfortunately funny!

So I guess there's all that.

(Holy shit, did I just linkblog? And badly, too. That'll teach me.)

So, Dead@17. You've been hearing about it everywhere. It's an indie publisher success story unlike any other right now. You like the series, and you want more.

Turns out you can get more. I'm actually intrigued as shit by that; there's enough hints in the two "canon" series at a whole wide world of weirdness lurking behind the scenes, and I want to know more. And I want to see writers take a spin in someone else's brainchild, because if it goes far enough, hey, what's this? A new shared universe, centered around the occult? Well, that's just fine and dandy by me.

The ad copy says four writers and four artists providing original takes in the D@17 universe, which makes no sense, since there appear to be five stories, each with a different set of writers and artists (Josh Howard, series auteur, has duties on one of them.)

It's in the June Previews and it hits in August. Get it.

You hear it all the time in the blogosphere: Such-and-such writer or artist would be so much better off just doing their own original works all the time, working for DC or Marvel on shared intellectual property is a sign of creative bankruptcy, etc etc. Me, I do not doubt the wonders of writing only self-created stuff -- it sounds like a little slice of heaven. But I don't discount working on established titles, either. I recently had a discussion (with an unsatisfying conclusion) on just this very topic, in regard to Mike Carey writing Ultimate Elektra.

So it felt like serendipity when, while reading the interview compilation Inner Views: Filmmakers in Conversation, the interviewer (David Breskin) asked David Cronenberg about the arc of his career -- moving from largely self-written material to adaptations. I believe this snippet is suitable food for thought:

Q: Your works from Stereo in 1969 to Videodrome in 1983, with the small exception of Fast Company, were all from your original screenplays. But since Videodrome, all four films have been collaborations and adaptations, no original screenplays, and your next will be based on the play "M. Butterfly." Do you make any sense of this?

Cronenberg: Not really. I can't find anything in me that has any recognition response to this. In the Middle Ages, you know, you got no points for originality. In fact, it was just about proscribed. You always built from the past, and you elaborated that into your own unique version. When you're young, I suppose there's a great ego necessity to say, "Hey, it's all original, I did it all myself!" It might simply be that. Even then, I knew that where the material comes from is almost irrelevant. Does it matter that it's [from] a newspaper article?

Q: There's a kind of friction that comes with adaptation and collaboration, which you don't get from your own original work. [...] I don't mean friction in a negative sense, I mean friction in terms of heat -- your consciousness is up against the consciousness of someone else.

Cronenberg: Yeah. There's a Hollywood version of collaboration, which can also be positive.

[Some tangential stuff about Sydney Pollack...]

But you run up against other things anyway, which is why I don't think it's that different from an original script. As soon as you start to introduce characters that fight back -- you want to get rid of them and they won't go! -- you're always collaborating with yourself, with projections of yourself. That's why I feel the metaphor of [Naked Lunch's] Bill Lee's typewriter -- giving him orders, pushing him around, telling him what to write -- is like normal writing to me. Whether there is another human being in the room or not, it feels the same.

I don't think I'm trying to rationalize anything here. As time goes on, it doesn't matter whether it's a dream I start with, or a newspaper article, or a story someone told me, or a story someone said actually happened, or a biographical incident, or somebody else's fictional work. It all seems like intake; it's narrative and conceptual intake and then you do something with it. Now, when you're starting out and you really have a lot to prove, and you have not yet necessarily found your cinema voice, and you are desperate not to dilute that, because it's so fragile, there might be a real pressure not to collaborate. "I'm the only guy who wrote this, I made it up, I didn't get it anywhere else." But what I'm doing now might be more pure and honest and straightforward than what I did then.

This isn't me (or Cronenberg) saying that the natural progression of the artist in any field, in our case comics and in his movies, is to go from self-created to company-owned. It's that there is no shame in doing either, that no matter what, whether it's Batman or your own super-cool character, "it's all intake."

The artist has no need for drawing lines in the sand when it comes to his raw materials. Self-imposed limits are strictly that: self-imposed. And they most certainly are limits.

(This whole book is a fantastic read, by the way. The interviewed subjects are Francis Ford Coppola, David Lynch, Oliver Stone, Spike Lee, David Cronenberg, Robert Altman, Tim Burton, and Clint Eastwood. Each of the interviews was conducted circa 1992-1993, right on the eve or dawn of some of these director's most pivotal works: JFK, Bram Stoker's Dracula, Malcolm X, The Player, and Unforgiven, just to name a few. Every interview is intimately in-depth, none of them clocking in under 46 pages. It's worth a browse, and even better if you can get it for $8 at a Half Price Books like I did.)

I don't know if I can call these reviews or impressions or assessments or what, because I'm afraid I'll set off some blogmines or something.

By my own definition, these are impressions of today's comics, since I just got done reading them, and my brain is still assessing them in cold, laboratory-like logic.

The Authority: More Kev #1 of 4 - This is Garth Ennis, so don't expect me to give it any rational kind of discussion. I don't really know anything about this Kev character -- my knowledge of the Authority extends to the first four TPBs, and I have zero interest in reading more -- but I can already tell that I like him. Kev's SAS, because this is Ennis we're talking about here, and some super-powerful aliens want him for unknown reasons or they'll Destroy The Planet. Kev's going to bring some loser charm to the infinitely lovable duo of Apollo and the Midnighter, and nobody writes a grizzled, what-the-fuck-am-I-doing-here-with-these-fucking-people vet like Ennis. Fabry's art is tighter than it has been in series past, and for that I am thankful.

Rating: Barkeep, I'll have another.

The Losers #12 - What, you aren't buying this yet? Why the fuck not? This is a great capper to a somewhat uneven arc, and contains one of the funniest goddamn scenes/lines I've ever read ("Remember where we parked.") What most people might miss is that there's an underlying intelligence to the slam-bang action, a certain informed, cynical glee that makes the book not only a blast to read but damned intriguing. Pick it up. New TPB in November.

Rating: Always a tasty beverage.

Batman #628 - I was very, very skeptical about this run. Winick has absolutely failed to impress me on everything else of his I've read (okay, I've only read one title of his, The Outsiders, which is a cliché-ridden mess of a book) but dammit if this isn't fun. Who would have thought the Penguin could still be so formidable? Who would have thought a straight-up adventure story, with all the taste and none of the nutrition, could still be so fun? Dustin Nguyen's art is well suited, too; the way he makes everyone's face a virtual landscape lends weight to the story.

Rating: Great taste, less filling.

Para #1 - Stuart Moore's (believe it or not) semi-autobiographical story about family legacy, a superconducting super collider, and Science vs... Something Else. I know, I know; took me awhile to get around to this, as #3 just hit the stands today. So far the premise is intriguing, but even in a 6-part arc this first issue feels rushed. Suddenly there's this grad student guy the protagonist apparently has a history with? It's odd. I'm also a little hesitant on the obvious pitting of "Science vs..." as if science were a monolithic entity that did not, in fact, include all occuring phenomenon, whether catalogued or not. Whatever. It's a very, very pretty book, and it looks like it could go somewhere fascinating very fast.

Rating: Needs a bit more aging, but worth a second shot.

DC: The New Frontier #4 - Reading this book in one sitting is the comic book equivalent of running a marathon. Cooke writes a completely immersive world, and his subtle and complete grasp of the setting and style of the times only reinforces that. Seriously, though: Is anything else that goes on in this book even half as fascinating as the Martian Manhunter and John Henry stuff? Hal Jordan's getting boring, Batman's got tantalizing glimpses (and that looks like that's all Cooke'll give us), and I know approximinately nil about the Challengers of the Unknown and the Suicide Squad, so this one lost steam by the last 15 pages or so. Sure is purty, though.

Rating: A fine wine, a little too dense in flavor.

Supreme Power #10 - I really like this series. I really didn't care for this issue. I didn't not like it... it just failed to provoke any kind of response other than mild disappointment. Every other issue, even in exposition scene after exposition scene, felt to be moving at a breakneck pace -- and something was always happening. This issue felt like treading water. And hey, look, I realize it's a MAX title... but do we have to make every female in the issue stark friggin' naked?

Rating: Ah. Right. Moving on.

The Punisher #6 - Two "holy SHIT!" moments, meaning I said "holy SHIT!" out loud twice while reading. (That, to me, should be the by-line of comic book ratings. If you're not consistently enthralled, inspired, or surprised by a book, why the hell are you reading it?) If you had any doubts about Ennis taking the kid gloves off, look no further than this issue. Frank Castle hasn't felt this dangerous in awhile, and I think I know why: previous Punisher series, from Ennis all the way back to Steven Grant, have always been told in narration from Castle himself... I guess so we can empathize, or at least regard him as the de facto protagonist. Beyond issue 1, this entire arc has been told from outside Castle, with almost no interior monologue or narration, so we have no idea what he's thinking or plotting or planning. It's a subtle move, and incredibly effective. I'll miss LaRosa when he's gone, too -- that guy has the grungey world of Frank Castle down pat.

Rating: Now there is a drink with some kick.

Yeah.

I'm there.

It's Oliver Goddamn Stone, people.

Also... ahem... Angelina Jolie and Rosario Dawson. Throw in a jedi and a talking pig and it would be physically impossible to go wrong.

(Of course, now that I've said that, there'll probably be a musical number with Muppets that comprises the entire second act.

...On second thought, that would rule. Get on the phone to the Henson people ASAP, Ollie.)

(Yup, swiped that headline right from Thought Balloons.)

Kevin Melrose's next piece of comic fiction is set to be published in Digital Webbing Presents #17, coming out in August, and it's called "Bad Elements: Good For the Soul." I read Kevin's last "Bad Elements" story in DWP #11, and the man is a natural storyteller. (And how could you not like a story wherein criminals use occult powers for the most pragmatic purposes?) The Diamond order code in the June Previews is JUN04 2442.

Check out that fucking artwork by Brian Churilla.

40 pages, no ads, $2.95. And you get a heaping helping of new talent in comics. Get your damn store to order it for you right now. I got my DM to put DWP on my pull list.

I stumbled across this archive of crime and horror comic covers over at Ben Samuels' Classic Golden Age Comic Book Cover Gallery... that's a hell of a title, there. I'll just call it the BSCGACBCG for.. uh.. brevity.

This comic book cover cracks me the fuck up:

I'll teach you to nag, motherfucker.

Seriously, this guy has problems way beyond "efficient anger management." You gotta wonder how he disciplines the people who work for him, or maybe his kids. Or if his kids made it out of infancy.

"Teach YOU to cry for your goddamn NIPPLE MILK at goddamn 3 AM when goddamn DADDY is trying to goddamn SLEEP."

Ultimate comic book cover artists, take note. You could learn something from these. That is issue motherfucking NUMBER ONE, and that is a great way to kick off a series.

(Yes, I know it should be "Mic," but that looks bad in print.)

This is spoken word, and I decided to go ahead and identify the author (not sure if she wanted that):

Batman’s Soliloquy

3 AM and I’m tired as fuck,
perched on the edge of a building like always,
watching the dockworkers move lazily about,
sleepwalking, really,
dreaming in their minds of booze
and sex with their drowsy wives when they come home.
God, but I hate stakeouts.

3 AM and it seems like routine:
staring through binoculars for the ship to come in,
the ship that always comes, laden
with guns or drugs or something for me to bust –
a ship whose When and Where I got
the same old way: hanging some mook
from off a balcony, thirty stories up, and shake him
until he cries, wets his pants, and blabs.
When I do that some part of me wants
to drop him. The other part cries.
Another part just wants to go home.

Home not to the Bat Cave, but a warm bed –
bed, and the calm certainty of a boring meeting tomorrow,
eyeing the secretary to plan a quick lay –
but this never happens. I have pictures
of the dead parents I never got a chance to know
hanging all over my mansion. I can’t escape them.
I live in a world framed by their eyes.

It’s 3 AM and the ship arrives
and I go about my business. Knockout gas
downs the dockworkers temporarily –
half-dreaming of liquor and coitus become
full dreaming for now, the lucky bastards –
Now come the guards with guns, who
suspect (as they always do) that Something Is Up,
come wheeling blindly around corners of crates
and I introduce their faces effortlessly
to the bottoms of my feet. I sigh as they collapse
and go about looking for the One In Charge.
Mook told me who before he fainted.

Robin always loved this – “the thrill of the chase”
he called it – all full of hormones and testosterone
and too much energy. He tried to stop me once
from hitting a woman, a murderess who had offed
four people, one in their sleep, all with a letter opener…
“It isn’t right,” he complained, that look
on his face that I hated. “You’re the Dark Knight”
he tried to say. I stopped him with a glare.
Almost wish I hadn’t. Things changed
after Poison Ivy once impaled him
on a three-foot long thorn and laughed.
Took his body four weeks to recover. His mind
never did. I see him as Nightwing now,
flitting about the city, full of quiet anger
and no answers.
He reminds me too much of myself.

The Boss is on the ship – I scale the side,
needing the exercise to keep me awake,
and find machine guns waiting for me at the top.
Nice but unoriginal. Another smoke grenade.
The fog is full of shapes and I attack them all,
an approach that works all too well in the midnight world –
Boss is below decks. I hear him shouting
for backup, for help, his heavy footsteps
pounding the metal floors. Easy to follow.

Were I Superman I would lift the ship
up out of the water, peel back the top
like a can of soup, shake the offenders out
onto the dock. I would – were I he –
wag my finger at them, and it would be enough…
admonished by a god. The public would love it.
They love him well enough.
Even when he gets fucked up on red kryptonite
and tears up half Metropolis they adore him still,
their savior more times than they can count.
He’s a public man, he owns the day.
Went drinking with him once (damn Kryotonians
never seem to get drunk, nor get hangovers)
and asked him why he does what he does.
The fucker just shrugged and said he had to.
The man who can lift battleships clean
out of the water said he HAD to.
He doesn’t know the meaning of the word.
What he fights against now didn’t kill his planet,
didn't steal the lives of the parents he never knew.
Who has it better, I wondered once, the man
who doesn’t know why he does what he does
and is loved for it, or the man who knows only
too well and is merely feared?

Back to the boat (the one
that always comes): Boss, it seems,
has locked himself inside the engine room –
Fool. This is the Boat that Always Comes,
wouldn't he think I’d know the schematics?
I take him unaware. Battle is anticlimactic.
He is fat, and slow, and though he is armed he goes down quick,
two solid punches and he’s laid out cold –
bundles of cocaine hemorrhage white gold
from his pockets. He saw the end coming, at least.

Some time later, and the glow
of cops’ cherries from the docks –
they arrived right on time. Commissioner
knows me well, or well enough.
Four blocks away is the Batmobile,
and my body thinks its time to call it a night.
(nights for me are getting shorter, I notice,
and try not to think of what will happen
when I am too old for the night to accept)
I will go home and shower, and change,
and collapse into a wide bed with expensive sheets
and envy the dockworkers their wives, and their dreams.

-Annie Carlson
5/24/04

It's Open Mike Night, and the Dark Knight has some choice things to say in the language of the poets.

Now it's up to you. What's the Dark Knight going to say? How's he going to say it, in a smoke-filled bar, under the spotlight, accompanied by some light jazz?

Entertain me, please. Since it's pretentious Open Mike poetry, it doesn't have to rhyme. Probably prefer it not to be. Bonus points for haiku.

Lay it on me.

(Image created with the Lego thingy.)

So there's that Constantine trailer up.

I'm no expert on the character. (I've read two TPBs so far: Original Sins and Dangerous Habits.) And yes, I think making Constantine an American instead of British is such a central fuck-up of the character it's like.. it's like.. it's like making Firestorm black or something.

(Joke.)

But hey. It's not as bad as all that. People can say what they want about Reeves' acting ability -- those who comment that he's a bad actor apparently have never seen Dangerous Liasons, Point Break, My Own Private Idaho, Little Buddha, Devil's Advocate, or The Gift -- but I think I finally have to concede my assholeness on this and just say, if I go into this movie not at all expecting the Constantine I know from the books, I'll probably have a good time.

This swears the Ringwood.

Uh?

THE ROOMMATE: "Does he come with opium smoking action?"

Me: "Or 'dies in a gutter somewhere, poor and unloved' kung fu grip?"

Also, anyone who might want to buy me the Varney the Vampire or Zombie t-shirt would be my best friend for-fucking-ever. I am not even close to kidding.

Dial-up is hell.

I have no idea how in the hell I ended up on Polite Dissent's blogroll. That guy's an MD and shit, and I'm this journalism student who knows what a "hot karl" is. Does not compute.

But I am a teensy bit honored. If you're not familiar, PD offers up suspiciously lucid and rational comics commentary along with critiques on how medicine and general doctory are handled in comics, where they go wrong and where they go right. I gotta say it's pretty damn fascinating.

I know, I know... everyone already talked about this blog like two weeks ago, so sue me...

The fourth and final installment.

ACT III BEFORE - FROM THE NOTES OF LARRY YOUNG

The heroes are all briefly discombobulated and disoriented. Schaff is bent over the still and possibly lifeless form of Kastra, Justice Hall is hung suspended by his cape nearly ten feet off the ground in a tree branch... The Grand is face down in the dirt.

It is slowly revealed that this accident has brought them to OUR EARTH, where there are no superheroes. At first, they are the toast of the town. We'll show a few pages of crime-stopping montages; The Grand stopping a bank robbery; Kastra talking someone off a bridge; Schaff frantically digging out some trapped contruction workers.

We'll even show Justice Hall getting a cat out of a tree for a little girl. He might even look into "the camera" and give a little shrug and wink to the audience.

They are all revered here on our Earth, having inadvertently left The Planet of the Capes...

...but it soon all starts to go bad. The Grand starts showing some attitude. He sets up shop sunny Hollywood, which has the dual distinction of being a town all wrapped up in looks and power (which The Grand represents and exhibits, superficially), as well as being the, if you'll forgive me, the POLAR opposite of the Arctic, and the secret headquarters of Superman and his Fortress of Solitude. The Grand has gone the other way, not separating himself from humanity to pause and reflect on his deeds and responsibilities, but to swim in the wretched excesses of sex and drugs and rock-and-roll... and he is their king.

When this situation finally becomes overt, Hall contacts Kastra and Schaff, who have secreted themselves outside of society and now are living in a cabin on the shore of a tranquil pond deep in the hills of central Vermont. They are coaxed out of "retirement" by Justice Hall, who convinces them that they need to go and have an intervention with The Grand. They make it to Hollywood where they are finally granted an audience with The King, "for old times' sake," where Hall and The Grand show they're at opposite ends of the philosophical spectrum now.

The Grand is all about excess and might makes right and winner take all and is basically a superpowered version of Gordon Gecko from WALL STREET. Justice Hall is humanity's last champion, and is being run ragged.

"I need your help, like I did back home. I can't handle it all."

"You don't need me," says The Grand. "You need us all."

"Sure; yes, I need you all," admits Hall, not knowing where this is going.

"Well, if you don't have us all, you'll have to give up this silly plan to save these weaklings from themselves."

"The fact that we are more powerful, more resourceful, more intelligent, more savvy and more whatever means that we have to be more responsible, too. We all do."

"So, you can't do it without all of us?"

"No, I need you all."

So then The Grand snaps Kastra's neck, and looks at Justice Hall expectantly. As if to say, OK, well, you need us all to save these pathetic fools, so you can't do it, because I've killed one of us. Need us all? Give it up.

Of course, Schaff loses his mind in an unparalleled rage in the history of rages. He knows in one half of his body that his daughter has been murdered right in front of him, and in the other half of his body, he knows that a former comrade and present fighting partner has murdered another friend. No matter how you look at that one, Schaff is pissed.

He lunges at The Grand and blows the both of them out of the side of The Grand's Hollywood palace. Atop the Hollywood Hills, it no longer says "Hollywood" on top of the famous sign, but rather "Grandscape." He's been remaking the surroundings into a big lovefest for himself.

After a protracted battle, where Schaff just beats on The Grand with no effect, yelling his signature phrase, "Geed! Geed! GEED! GEED! geed." Over and over as he pummels away at The Grand... he eventually tires enough so that The Grand systematically dismembers him. Pulling off first one arm, then another, then ANOTHER... squishing legs and twisting protruberances until there is just a mass of quivering jelly on the ground. It's not possible that Schaff could still be alive under all that mess... but it still seems as though he's still struggling...

This battle has taken then into Death Valley, and Justice Hall has followed them in the quinjet. Now, on the page, all of the color, all of the features around them are blown out and overexposed, as if a photograph had been misdeveloped.

It is here we have the big philosophical debate between the two sides of this issue. The Grand, representing wretched excess and absolute power that has been corrupted absolutely can't possibly fear a guy dressed up as a raven. He's a regular Joe... sure; he's been trained to the gills, he's the Federated States' super-soldier... but he's got nothing to with which to go up against a strange visitor from another planet.

And they both know it.

Of course, after their verbal battle degenerates, Hall takes a swing at him. Useless blow after unfeeling blow rains on the laughing, maniacally twisted face of The Grand. Go ahead, beat yourself silly, until I kill you as I killed poor Schaff. I let him beat his rage out against me until he couldn't swing another punch. You do the same, old friend, It's the least I can do for you, Beat me until you break every bone in your
hands.

Of course, The Grand doesn't fear Justice Hall, although he should... as The Grand is is parrying every blow with "lovetaps" of his own, gradually whittling away at the strength of Justicve Hall.

And Hall knows it. He's weakening... The Grand is just toying with him like a cat before finally killing the mouse.

"I'm going to play with you until you're just not fun anymore," The Grand says.

In one last defiant gesture, Hall activates his personal phasing tech with the bloody stumps of what's left of his fingers. He stands up, shakily at first, then confidently, finally proudly erect as all of the patriots and ancestors and signers of the Declaration of the Independence all are summoned up in one last defiant act against the
symbolic spectre of all oppressors everywhere...

...as Hall puts his phased hand right through a monumentally startled chest of The Grand.

There's one panel where the two of each other look into each other's eyes: one of those suspended-in-time moments that you can only really get in comics. One panel of both of them in profile, with Justice Hall looking up at The Grand with a bit of self-satisfaction. It's all over here, he seems to say. The Grand comes to that conclusion, too, and in impotent rage, backhands Justice Hall across the face, ripping the front of his face off.

Now, The Grand has a dead superhero affixed to his front, he's slowly dying, as even a strange visitor from another planet can't survive having a superhero's arm occupy the same space as his own vital organs without having some adverse effect...

In fact, The Grand is dying... he going to die in seconds... we pull out, and away from these two forms in the desert... One a dead hero and the other dying... Justice Hall hangs limply from the front of The Grand... The Grand sags under the weight of his friend literally impalement of him... we pull back, and back, and back until there is
nothing but white... nothingness on the last page, and on the inside back cover.

THE END

ACT III AFTER - STRAIGHT FROM THE HORSE'S MOUTH

Q: I'm pretty sad to see that this Hollywood sequence didn't make it into the final product. Apparently you've got a thing or two to say about comics going to Hollywood?

Larry: Well, it was just an example of wretched excess. I'd worked in LA for a few months and it wasn't my kinda town. I suppose if I'd spent in any time in Las Vegas, I would have set that bit there.

Q: But setting the Grand up in friggin' HOLLYWOOD seems... Serendipitous, at the least.

Larry: Hollywood versions of comics are usually pretty good, to my eyes. I always like seeing the adaptations to film. . More of the what-I-would-do of that part of the story, I think. You know LIVE FROM THE MOON isn't about Ishmael Hayes, rich guy? It's about Larry Young, rich guy?

Q: Let's make sure you never hit the lottery, then. All right. Oh yeah? Got a favorite?

Larry: I think it's safe to say the 1978 SUPERMAN is the best translation.

Q: In the original outline you've got the Grand actively killing off both self-publishers and indie publishers. Final product they die trying to stem off the flood. That's a considerably softer take on what exactly could be the demise of the Selfs and the Indies. Any reason you changed the tone of that?

Larry: That part of the plot was written at the height of Marvel's Heroes World debacle.

Q: Give me some elaboration on the Heroes World thing. I'm not too familiar with it.

Larry: Marvel bought its own distributor and caused everyone to choose upsides. With Marvel trying to self-distribute, DC arranged with Diamond to be 'exclusive'... All the other major publishers signed up with Diamond, leaving Diamond’s only other competitor, Capital City, with smaller-volume publishers and eventually going out of business. This is just my understanding as a guy who reads the Comics Journal of the time... and not as a comics historian. But when people talk about the "Death of the Direct Market," that's what they're talking about.

Q: In the first interview you said there are friends of yours who think this has already killed the DM, and the DM's just not aware of it yet.

Larry: Yeah, a lot of my retailer buddies point to that as the circling of the drain.

Q: Think the DM's days are numbered yourself?

Larry: Not as such, no.

Q: The most drastic change... well, one of many... from the original outline of Act III and the final product is the inclusion of the Fantastic Four stand-ins, and their part in the self-destruction of the superheroes. What got you to bring them in?

Larry: They're the opposite numbers to the fanboy Alec in Act I. You need a bookend to how the superheroes are perceived. Since the Superman analogue was going bad, I figured it might be fun to write unpowered FF analogues. Sort of an extension of the Marvel/DC schism, and also commentary on the "real-world" aspect of it.

Q: And it was a fun fanboy moment to realize whom you were emulating there, I have to admit.

Larry: Thanks!

Q: Which could brand me of the crime of being unsophisticated.

Larry: The fun thing is that it works on both levels.

Q: The Grand at the end seems to have some awareness of the self-destructiveness of his actions. He even quotes the book's money line: "Nobody learns anything, everybody dies." This seems to suggest some awareness, on some upper level of the Big Two, that they're aware that what they're doing is wrong. Or could go horribly wrong. You believe that's the case?

Larry: The Big Two know what they're doing. I wouldn't necessarily say it's WRONG, as companies have to do what's right for them. Sure. Got to turn a profit.

Q: What compels them to keep going? Beyond the obvious green answer.

Larry: Money is the answer, man.

Q: And a certain amount of... selfishness? That seems to be the Grand's thing. "My way or no way."

Larry: Companies aren't selfish. But, yeah; what's best for them.

Q: I'm thinking along the lines of the Big Two, though. That they do what they want because dammit, they're the Big Two, and they founded this business, and yadda yadda.... Maybe "self-righteousness" is a better description.

Larry: I don't think that's fair. Companies are storehouses of properties. They need to maximize their holdings.

Q: Well that, to me, is what the Grand is signifying. Not necessarily what the case is NOW, but what it COULD be.

Larry: The Grand is just doing what he thinks is best for him.

Q: And having a bit of fun with it, too.

Larry: When there are no limits, why stay imposed in some self-limitation?

Q: And "the good of the people" is just way too abstract if you have that much physical power in your hands. Now, that last fight between JH and the Grand... I couldn't not think of the climactic Superman/Batman battle in DARK KNIGHT RETURNS. The parallels seem... appropriate. Was this an intentional move?

Larry: Not a direct-line nod, but when two square-jaws are on opposite sides of a question, things happen.

Q: The results seem fairly symmetrical, too. You've got a supposedly dead Batman and an exposed Superman at the end of DKR. I guess your take is a bit more cynical in its result. Holy shit, Larry. You're more cynical than Frank Miller.

Larry: We both grew up in rural Vermont. Maybe those winters have something to do with it.

Q: That would explain Kastra and Schaff's hideout being in Vermont, then?

Larry: Yeah. I was just hoping people would slow down and READ the comic.

Q: Next up: Larry Young vs. Frank Miller in a Vermont brawl-for-it-all.

Larry: The one thing I'm a little dismayed with is that the people who don't get the analogue right way are the ones who admit they're reading too quickly. You’re paying 13 bucks for a graphic novel, yeah? Why not enjoy it?

Q: The pace of the story lends to a breakneck read. I know I had to read it fast one time and then go back through more slowly. And that's the beauty of OGNs: You can read them again and again. I just plain don't feel comfortable talking about something or reviewing something unless I've been through it a couple-few times.

Larry: OK, that's great! I was trying to do something that rewarded multiple reads.

Q: It gets more rewarding with each read. The light touches come into sharp focus. All right: You've given us the cautionary tale about the State of the Industry. Tell me, my man: who's got the juice to turn it all around?

Larry: Slow and steady wins the race.

Q: Here's the obligatory end question: what's next on the horizon for you? Got another book in the works?

Larry: Yep; I just wrote the first 19 pages of a big sprawling slam-bang and sent it off to the artist. Of course, we'll be announcing at San Diego. And then the PROOF OF CONCEPT book should be out around December.

Q: Anything you can tell me now? General subject matter, length, tentative release date? Or, say, who the artist might be?

Larry: Naw, it's too early. You guys are all the same.

Q: "Big sprawling slam-bang" it is, then. Good luck to you. I have a feeling PLANET's audience will grow with age.

Larry: Thanks very much. That'd be fine. Wouldn't mind that at all.

The winners have been announced.

Talk to CORN, baby!

Special thanks to Larry Young and Digital Webbing Presents for donating the prizes to this wonderlicious contest. Keep an eye on our blogs, people; we'll be making these contests a regular occurence.

Sorry for the delay. Life interference. Part 3...

ACT II BEFORE - FROM THE NOTES OF LARRY YOUNG

Deep space, wherein we find that the spaceship in trouble is one of a fleet of Kastra's people the Mykryl, who routinely patrol the space near Earth as a favor to their former captain and his daughter... keeping things in this part of the galaxy safe as a reward for the service of a former warrior and what's left of his family...

The Grand is concerned about the ship... seems it's lost computer control... The ships innards are organic; the circuitry and relays are made of synapses and dendrites. Pull open an access panel and you're more likely to find a few bags of blood and meat connected to an amorphous organ of some kind than you would the expected circuit breakers and fuses.

The ships controls are not responding, or, if they are, they are responding in unpredictable ways. It turns out that the organic material that makes up the innards and circuitry of the ship are the remains of accident victims and folks who have willed their bodies to science for some reason or another. The alien ship has gone through one of those wacky areas of space where weird shit happens. The phasing technology that the ship uses to shift between dimensions of time and space for travel (more on this later, as you shall see) has reanimated the meat on board and has alerted it to its former lives.

Oddly, the ship's innards are threaded with Lassie, Timmy, a grandmother, and a serial killer. You get what I'm saying, right? A family pet has been hit by a car? It's ability to play fetch is well used by its simple brain cells which search and locate data in the
ship's computer. Timmy drowned in the well? His healthy pink liver cells can filter toxins from engineering byproducts. Kindly grandmother gives up the ghost, on to her reward? Her tendons can still do useful work opening and closing doors on command. Serial killer executed by society as the ultimate punishment? Body willed to science by the government, a sick fuck now controls life support.

These four are now loose on the ship, floating sticks with two-dimensional representations of their former bodies electronically floating in air.

The Mykryl need Kastra and her pals to stop them and take control of the ship back before they drop into Earth's atmosphere and destroy Fremont.

Which, of course, they do, at the last second, using the phasing technology of the ships engines on a personal scale by bamfing the serial killer out into space and Timmy and Lassie and Grandma sacrificing themselves while exerting a last ditch effort to save the ship.

Of course, the plan can only work because they are working in concert with Justice Hall, who is revealed to be sporting a hand-held version of the phasing tech in his communication gauntlet, possibly against the day he may have to use it to stop Schaff permanently.

It's revealed in a flashback that, in fact, Justice Hall was the one inadvertently responsible for causing Schaff to be created in the first place, when he, The Grand, The Red Fez, and The Repairman (who's a woman, don't cha know) were first on this Mykryl ship in the mid Eighties. When trying to stop A Bad Guy who briefly gained control of the ship, The Red Fez and the ship's captain (Kastra's father) ended up fused into one mindless monster of rampaging destruction.

This sets up Justice Hall's fallibility and subsequent guilt, Kastra's maternal feelings with the parent-child roles reversed, why the Mykryl would still be hanging around Earth (because of a sense of duty to their mostly-fallen Captain), and Justice Hall's having the portable phasing tech in his souped-up communications gauntlet. Whew!

While the sacrifice of Timmy, Lassie, and Grandma are valiant and appreciated, the ship is now caught in the gravity well of Earth, and is going down. No way to stop it. Fremont is going to be vaporized, and probably most of the neighboring towns as well.

Only one thing to do: activate the phasing technology and hope the Mykryl can phase through the planet. Because Justice Hall, Kastra, The Grand, and Schaff are in the quinjet, trying to tow the crippled ship out of Earth's gravity, they're not going to be saved, even if the risky maneuver saves the Mykryl.

Justice Hall activate his personal phasing tech on the off chance the field of the Mykryl ship pulls them along and out of danger... but all that succeeds in doing is phasing them through to OUR EARTH.

ACT II AFTER - STRAIGHT FROM THE HORSE'S MOUTH

Q: Act II is the first place we see extreme differences between the original outline and the finished product. This act barely resembles the original outline form. What finally made you cut the rather brilliantly surreal ship personality bit?

Larry: Act II was supposed to be an adventure of the team, so we can see how they interact. For the allegory, we don't really need to know HOW they interact; it’s enough to know that they DO.

Q: And do they ever. That color sequence is memorable as hell and had to be satisfying to see in print. What gave genesis to that? In the original outline the flashback warrants one paragraph... and in the final product it dominates the whole Act.

Larry: Well, the structure of the book sees us romping through the Golden Age, the Silver Age, and the Modern Age... so it just seemed a natural to dummy the flexographic press look of the comics I enjoyed as a kid. Yeah, since the alien meatship stuff had to go, I figured I'd just replace it with the Red Fez/Dave Sim/Schaff/self-publisher flashback stuff.

Q: Is that what prompted you to make the flashback so dominant? Homage?

Larry: Naw, I just wanted to make the self-publisher stuff more central.

Q: "Alien meatship"... man, that is some seriously bizarre stuff right there.

Larry: It's a crazy place up in my head.

Q: That it is. The self-publisher stand-in Schaff does play a pretty big role in here, as does his relationship to Justice Hall. In the outline you place sole responsibility for Schaff's state on JH's shoulders.

Larry: Yeah.

Q: It changes a little in the final product. We've got this moment of tenderness or kinship or whatever you want to call it... Between JH and Schaff. Here's one of those questions you hate: Do you think there's any love like that between the Big Two and self-publishers?

Larry: The folks at DC always take my call. Patty Jeres is one of the best marketing people in comics, and has a fine editorial eye of her own.

Q: So you think there's still a good relationship there. I don't doubt that, just wanted to hear your take.

Larry: Paul Levitz always has time for Mimi or me if we have a question, and I’ve always had very good conversations with Karen Berger and mark Chiarello when I have the opportunity.

Q: Any chance they'll be seeing this book?

Larry: Jim Lee has seen it, I know.

Q: Nice. Have you gotten any feedback from professionals?

Larry: Sure; all the folks I talk to regularly loved it.

Q: Which in a roundabout way brings me to my next question. One of the major complaints floating around the blogo-mart -- before the allegorical nature became clear to a lot of the reviewers -- is that the story moves in an almost herky-jerky manner from place to place. The actions of the characters are arbitrary, but that's the fun of it; but a lot of folks had a tough time with the pace.

Larry: They didn't grow up reading comics in the 60s.

Q: Crap, my eldest sibling wasn't old enough to read comics in the 60's. You've made your statement that the pacing in PLANET is a middle finger to decompression, is that right?

Larry: I wouldn't go that far, but it's a valid observation.

Q: It's certainly a change from the 288-page epic you had originally planned.

Larry: Look at the first 50 issues of the FANTASTIC FOUR... Dr. Doom, the Mole Man, Galactus, the Silver Surfer, all sorts of stuff. The story in those issues would last 300 issues today. Stories evolve... making a point about decompressed storytelling was more fun.

Q: True. How long is it taking UFF to show us the origin of Dr. Doom?

Larry: What's the UFF?

Q: ULTIMATE FANTASTIC FOUR, sorry.

Larry: Oh, yeah... ummm... I don't know?

Q: There's a pretty heavy amount of grumbling because it's taking 6 issues to say what the original first issue did by itself.

Larry: Yeah, honestly, I don't know what to say about that. Some folks will bellyache about anything.

Q: Larry Young doesn't buy superhero comics? Now there's the shock story of the 21st century.

Larry: Naw, I get some stuff... I buy DEMO. I liked the ULTIMATES when it was coming out

Q: Don't you print DEMO?

Larry: Yeah, that just means I buy more than one copy.

Q: Give me the Larry Young shopping list.

Larry: Today I just picked up the SPIRIT volume 7, Planetes vol 3, and Back Issue #4.

Q: Any monthly series you follow besides the ones you publish?

Larry: Naw, not that I can think of. I don't read all that many comics, anymore. I'm about the trade paperbacks. Plus I read a lot of other things. Right now, I'm reading AMERICAN CARS, THE JOURNAL OF LEWIS AND CLARK, and the latest VICE and MACADDICT magazines. I have the last few Judge Dredd magazines, too.

Q: Uh oh. You wait for the trade? That makes you the anti-Christ in a lot of circles. A lot of people, I call them "whiners," talk like waiting for the trade is going to kill the business for good. I take it that argument holds no weight with you, considering you yourself are a publisher but you wait for the trades anyway.

Larry: Whiners whine, man. That's what they do.

Q: So it's not a concern for you.

Larry: It's not so black-and-white as all that. I read WALKING DEAD monthly... some stuff I just don't care about. I'm a busy guy, so I can hardly keep a monthly story straight...

Q: Your boy Adlard had a great first issue on WALKING DEAD, by the way.

Larry: Charlie's an incredible artist.

Q: The DEMO contest wraps up today, and you've heard the question floating around: Why no DEMO TPB? I know you've given an answer, but the one I saw was in a comments section, not in anything permanent.

Larry: Seriously, man, I answer this once a week. It's all over the Internet, in every interview I've done in the last six months. Here's what it says on Thought Balloons: "This is like asking a marathon runner on Mile Eleven when he's going to run another marathon."

Q: So basically back off till you've caught your wind. Last question's just one me and Shane were tossing around. We're kind of curious what you, Larry Young, comics visionary of the West Coast, see on the rise. The Next Big Thing, be it series, writing style, genre, writer, artist...

Larry: I NEVER answer this question. It's like asking a magician to explain his sleight-of-hand.

Q: Heh. "Keep an eye on the shelves," is that it?

Larry: I make my money by anticipating and then creating the Next Big Thing. Look at how many script collections are out now; look at the books that have copied the LAST OF THE INDEPENDENTS format...

Q: And damn if that isn't one pretty book, too.

Larry: "It's tough being the one with all the brains."

Q: Luckily "you're the one who's got the juice."

Larry: Just a clever mammal at the twilight of the dinosaurs.

(Stay tuned for the fourth and final installment, same time tomorrow.)

Continuing from Part 1...

ACT I BEFORE - FROM THE NOTES OF LARRY YOUNG

Introduce JUSTICE HALL, swinging in towards a scene of urban devastation. As he swings towards the carnage on his Batrope, he does a little pondering about who he is and why he does what he does. On page five, he's stopped by a kid who waves him down from on top of the building he's perched on. Sensing that there's a crime in progress that he's being alerted to, Hall swoops down.

"What is it? Have you been mugged? Where are your parents? This isn't a cat in a tree thing, is it? I don't do cats-in-trees."

No, it's just a fanboy, who wants his autograph. He pulls out a spiral-ring notebook from his knapsack and wants Hall's autograph. He's about fifteen. Old enough to be out by himself at ten o'clock at night, but young enough to not realize being out by yourself at that time is kinda silly.

Hall tells him, "Go home. You're asking for trouble."

This kid will be our audience stand-in. If The Grand represents DC, then Justice Hall represents Marvel. Two sides of an equation trying to do the same thing by competing means. Schaff, in his rampaging yet mindless power, represents self-publishers... wielding the power of the comic book form but only haphazardly and without conscious direction. It's an accident if something bad happens and it's an accident if something good happens. Kastra, the alien girl, represents the independent publishers, who may have the pluck and the wherewithal to hang with the big guys but have to survive on being quicker and more clever because the punches they throw don't bring down the house. Finesse beats power any day, anyway...

So our fifteen year old kid is our audience substitute. He'll be along for the ride... not exactly a B-story, but a throughline to the end of the act... Justice Hall initally tells him to piss off, but then relents, as there really is a human face under the mask. He's taken with the boy's naivete and relents. Signs a page in the kid's makeshift scrapbook (maybe a newspaper clipping about one of Justice Hall's exploits) and tells him to get off the streets. It's a good country... a damn fine country... but on a school night it's better to be home with the lights off.

Kastra arrives on the scene with her people's spaceship, which acts as a group quinjet a nd shuttles the four around the world, and, apparently, deep space, as well. She lands the honkin' thing outside of the carnage Schaff is creating and gets out with a flourish.

This kid then meets Kastra, who's quite flattered by the attention, and flirts with the kid mercilessly. He's got an 8 x 10 of her in his book, protected by a plastic sleeve. The intimation here is the kid spends some time alone with his scrapbook in general and Kastra's photo in particular.

After the out-of-control Schaff is made docile once more, and the two-year old he's been swinging around (representing the hope for the comic book fans of the future, natch), the kid even gets Schaff's autograph: "GEED!"

Just then, The Grand flies down, having missed all the brouhaha, and informs them that they've got to stop a crashing alien ship. There is some back and forth with the kid, as he tries to get The Grand's autograph. Even Justice Hall is a little put off when our Superman-analogue blows the kid off. Kastra, Hall, even the nearly-mindless Schaff all gave the kid the time of day... the intimation here is that The Grand is doing good works for a deifferent reason than the others. There is no altruism in him, apparently... if there is, it's a selfish altruism... not good for goodness' sake, but good because of desired effect is reached. What is the desired effect or outcome for The Grand? We do not yet know... all we know is what the kid knows, that the powerful Superman analogue is blowing him off and is not giving him his autograph. It's a small, simple thing, but telling to the audience that this guy isn't Superman. He's not crass, per se, he's just not all things to all people.

As far as the kid is concerned, though, the guy he idolizes the most might just as well have punched him in the stomach.

This act, remember, all takes place at night, with the inside front cover of the book being a solid black, and the main action of the first act all taking place in a dark, moody, atmospheric Gotham-City-of-sorts.

This is taken through to the second act, which takes place in the spaceship, and is all sort of neutrally lit. A transition between the black of the first act and the bright, washed-out day in the desert of the third act, which finishes with the all-white inside back cover. Black to white, ink to no ink, something, to nothing. Man, that's a bleak view of the comic book industry, isn't it?

"We've got things to do," The Grand says, blowing the kid off brusquely.

No autograph for him, and no joy for your regular comics fan as the stand-in for Marvel Comics blithely ignores the stand-in for the comic book reaading audience and flies off, literally abandoning his audience. The four of them head off into deep space...

ACT I AFTER - STRAIGHT FROM THE HORSE'S MOUTH

Q: Okay, first off, I'd just like to say... Brandon McKinney's art was pretty much pitch-perfect for the project. He made the Grand look like a world-class asshole from Panel One, and that's not easy. How'd you two hook up for this project?

Larry: Brandon and I have known each other for a while, and I set him up with Warren Ellis for SWITCHBLADE HONEY. I feared that Warren would be swamped with work and I didn't want Brandon to be waiting for script, so I pitched him the idea to work on PLANET while we waited for Warren. But W was right there with his script and so PLANET waited while B finished up that.

Q: How long ago was that?

Larry: Spring of 2001, I think.

Q: So you've been sitting on this script for a while. How many little tweaks and alterations did it undergo between the original outline and the finished product? Aside from drastic reduction in length.

Larry: Two major rebuilds. The first proposal would have been at least 288 pages long, and that didn't fit my "compression" idea... I don' really revisit and rewrite that much. Just tweak dialogue to fit space issues at the lettering stage. By the time I sit down to write, I've pretty much figured out the tale I want to tell.

Q: You didn't actually hack out 288 pages, did you?

Larry: No, that wouldn't be efficient.

Q: Make for a hell of a director's cut, though. Okay, I know you've stressed that none of the characters are one-to-one stand-ins for different aspects of the industry, but I have to wonder about the swap of Justice Hall and the Grand, and whom they represent. After the color sequence is done, their personalities seem to have solidified into pretty specific caricatures. So come on... level. Which is it for them, DC or Marvel?

Larry: Well, I think it's clear that they represent the Big Two, yeah?

Q: It's pretty clear, yeah.

Larry: So does it matter which is which? I swapped 'em around because that's what happens with Marvel and DC. Two horses, nose-to-nose.

Q: But if it's a cautionary tale, a warning of potential things to come, I'm curious on your exact take on what role each of the Big Two will take in it... if we don't change course.

Larry: Well, it's an allegory. There is no exact take.

Q: That's why I'm asking for yours.

Larry: I don't want to say what I think, because then that ruins the fun for the reader. It's like asking Dickens who he's riffing on in BLEAK HOUSE, man.

Q: Fair enough. Schaff's shown with tremendous power, wielded uncontrollably, sometimes doing as much harm as good. Do you think self-publishers still have that much influence in the field?

Larry: Yeah, I think self-publishers have the potential to wield that much power. But an interesting take is that Schaff represents the distribution aspect of the industry, as well.

Q: Specifically Diamond, or distribution overall?

Larry: Distribution, overall. Diamond, Cold Cut, FMI, the book trade... a many-limbed juggernaut. See? Allegory is fun, if you get into it.

Q: The interesting thing is, I went into reading PLANET cold. I didn't read your Cliff's Notes on it until afterwards, so I could take it in fresh. To me, Schaff came off as fanboys as much as the kid with the autograph book did. So much power to change things, with almost zero guidance on "doing the right thing."

Larry: "Just wanting you to care," "remembering when good people did good things"? Yeah, I can see that.

Q: Kastra giving the young autograph hound a kiss on the cheek and making his day... tell me that that is not a Larry Young moment in a nutshell. Convince me.

Larry: What's a "Larry Young moment"?

Q: Self-insertion. Which sounds kinda sexy.

Larry: The entire book is my take on things, so every main character says or does something I see that should be done or said, in comics. I think Justice Hall is probably closest to my personal worldview.

Q: Oh, I just meant a bit of self-insertion in that that's what you try to do with the fan base. Flirt, talk, get them intimately involved. So to speak.

Larry: I think every company has someone whose job that is. It's the nature of PR and marketing. But that's flattering that you think I'm the personification of good marketing.

Q: Well, some would say that DC and specifically Marvel do a pretty horrible job of relating to the fan base. Of course, that's precisely what the Grand does. So... you and Justice Hall? Elaborate.

Larry: He has a firm idea of what's acceptable and what's unacceptable, doesn't take any shit, is no-nonsense, is prepared for all the angles... has a strategy when things go wrong, and still has time to give a kid personal attention even while he's saying he doesn't have time. The "I don't do cats in trees" page is the one I bought from Brandon.

Q: And maybe the one guy who can stand up to the Grand?

Larry: Like I said these aren't one-to-one correlations. I have aspects of The Grand in my view of comics, too. People are complex cats, man.

Q: And decades of company history even more so. I'm with you. An interesting change from outline to TPB you have is the fanboy's reaction to the Grand blowing him off. In the TPB, the kid feels down, but Kastra cheers him right up again. In the original outline, you detail it as the kid feeling as if he "might as well have been punched in the stomach." What prompted the change?

Larry: A maturation of my view of the ephemeral nature of an audience.

Q: Since 2001 and the writing of the final script? What changed that?

Larry: I just realized that as our business grew, we'd have diehards and casual readers and new converts. I saw how Marvel fans, for example, keep reading Spidey no matter what Marvel does... but it's not the same audience; there's a turnover. So Marvel and DC, and us, even, do what's best for our companies, and not necessarily what’s best for an individual fan.

Q: So you don't see the audience for superheroes as largely static, like a lot of critics do.

Larry: If I did, I wouldn't have published PLANET OF THE CAPES and HENCH and the three FOOT SOLDIERS volumes. The middle chapter of ASTRONAUTS IN TROUBLE: SPACE 1959 is a rumination on the superhero.

Q: Well there's a pretty big sentiment rolling around that the only people buying Spider-Man, et al, these days are 35-year-old fanboys who've been buying the title all their lives. You think superheroes still have legs, then?

Larry: I wouldn't dismiss a good story just because of its format or subject matter. Super heroes, westerns, romance books, hot rod stories... if it's a good tale, well told, then I think there's an audience.

(Stay tuned for more.)

Okay, so this'll be the last post of the day. Dorian at postmodernbarney's got his list of what does -- and does not -- constitute our ideal middleground comic book journalism rag.

Here I shall quote wholesale, running the risk of his wrath:

Should feature:


* in-depth feature reviews and interviews

* coverage of multiple genres

* regular columns focused on specific issues/themes

* a style that is accessable to both the casual and the more discerning reader

* editorial independance



Should not feature:


* "breaking" news I read last week/month on-line

* vanity columns with no purpose other than to give a cherished old comics-pro a steady supplemental income

* an overly narrow idea of the types of comics that should be covered

* a style that is either too erudite or too frat-boy-ish

* reveiws that habitually miss the point of the material being covered

* an inability to criticize Marvel or DC or some other publisher for fear of loss of advertising income or access to creators

That's the most coherent answer I've seen so far, and man if I wouldn't buy that magazine every day it came out.

I'm doing some house-sitting duties at a house with a bad, bad internet connection, so my blogging this week (through next Sunday) is going to be pretty shoddy. I'm still going to continue with the "The Living Planet" interview series with Larry Young, so keep your panties on for that.

See ya tomorrow.

(Note: Supersize Me was pretty good. The guy oversells his point like fucking crazy -- does he really expect me to believe that one Big Mac meal made him vomit, on the very first day? -- but otherwise it's good stuff to know. The stuff about food in schools, especially, and the kinds of deals soft drink companies cut to get their product into kids' hands.)

Rick: I got on Jakala's permanent good side after I made funny little captions for all his vacation photos.

Rick: Not that it's hard to get on his good side. If Jakala doesn't like you, you must be an asshole.

Me: So he's a pretty nice guy overall?

Rick: Definitely.

Me: You guys are lovers, aren't you?

Rick: We are.

Me: Just checking.

Rick: Don't tell Melrose.

Me: Your secret's safe with me.

Mark's reliving some horrid Daredevil memories:

Daredevil's been around awhile and seems to mean something different to everyone who writes him. For Stan Lee he was a blind swashbuckler just this side of Spider-Man. To Frank Miller he was a tormented Catholic in love with a woman who was his opposite number in every way — he a lawyer, she an assassin, blah blah blah grievous chest wound. Karl Kesel, in a brief but exceptional run, brought Matt back into the courtroom and livened him up a bit after dour runs by guys like J.M. DeMatteis and D.G. Chichester. And what's up with the initials, huh? The point is, if these last two are any indication, if Brian Bendis went by B.M. Bendis not only would his run suck, the nutsacks on his forum would have a field day with the initials "B.M."

I love Frank Miller, you know. DKR got me back into comics in the first place, but man. I'd almost (almost) trade up Sin City just so we'd never have to deal with his imitators. I mean really...

"Life is horribly cheap in the big city... but someone's found a way of turning a profit by selling the parts wholesale. Inside, something tears loose at the tragedy of it all. Inside, something begins to twist and rage..."

One, no. Two, that shit about "selling the parts wholesale" doesn't even make sense, and that's true even after you find out the context (a serial killer who dresses in a super-outfit and cuts people up for organs.)

Anyway, go read it. It's a worthy substitute for Gone & Forgotten, especially since that worthy updates once per ice age.