Wednesday, June 16, 2004
Transmission from a place where they serve sweet tea.
(I fucking love sweet tea. I don't understand the point of unsweetened tea ordered by anyone but hardcore masochists.)
From The Straight Dope: When the zombies take over, how long till electricity fails?
In a dire, unprepared situation:
Bottom line? My guess is that within 4-6 hours there would be scattered blackouts and brownouts in numerous areas, within 12 hours much of the system would be unstable, and within 24 hours most portions of the United States and Canada, aside from a rare island of service in a rural area near a hydroelectric source, would be without power. Some installations served by wind farms and solar might continue, but they would be very small. By the end of a week, I'd be surprised if more than a few abandoned sites were still supplying power.
In a situation with a bit more prep time:
If the operators and utilities had sufficient advance warning they could take measures to keep the power going for a while. The first thing would be to isolate key portions of the grid, reducing the interties and connections, and then cease power delivery altogether to areas of highest zombie density. After all, it's not like the zombies need light to read or electricity to play Everquest. Whole blocks and zones would be purposely cut off to reduce the potential drains (and to cope with downed lines from zombies climbing poles or driving trucks into transformers). Operators would work to create islands of power plants wherever possible, so if a plant were overrun by zombies and went down it wouldn't drag others down with it. In cooperation with regional reliability coordinators, the plant operators would improve plant reliability by disabling or eliminating non-critical alarm systems that might otherwise shut down a power plant, and ignoring many safety and emissions issues.
Man, I love that shit.
From The Straight Dope: When the zombies take over, how long till electricity fails?
In a dire, unprepared situation:
Bottom line? My guess is that within 4-6 hours there would be scattered blackouts and brownouts in numerous areas, within 12 hours much of the system would be unstable, and within 24 hours most portions of the United States and Canada, aside from a rare island of service in a rural area near a hydroelectric source, would be without power. Some installations served by wind farms and solar might continue, but they would be very small. By the end of a week, I'd be surprised if more than a few abandoned sites were still supplying power.
In a situation with a bit more prep time:
If the operators and utilities had sufficient advance warning they could take measures to keep the power going for a while. The first thing would be to isolate key portions of the grid, reducing the interties and connections, and then cease power delivery altogether to areas of highest zombie density. After all, it's not like the zombies need light to read or electricity to play Everquest. Whole blocks and zones would be purposely cut off to reduce the potential drains (and to cope with downed lines from zombies climbing poles or driving trucks into transformers). Operators would work to create islands of power plants wherever possible, so if a plant were overrun by zombies and went down it wouldn't drag others down with it. In cooperation with regional reliability coordinators, the plant operators would improve plant reliability by disabling or eliminating non-critical alarm systems that might otherwise shut down a power plant, and ignoring many safety and emissions issues.
Man, I love that shit.
Sunday, June 13, 2004
Leaving, on a jet plane...
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.
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.
Saturday, June 12, 2004
The Dream Team: The Big Idea
(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.
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.
Friday, June 11, 2004
Dream Teams.
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.
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.
Just one of those days.
Hmm.
The Funny.
Wednesday, June 09, 2004
Funny drink names.
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.)
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.)
Tuesday, June 08, 2004
Calling all manga enthusiasts.
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?
(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?
Memento Mori
Well, okay, you probably know this already. But.
Journalista is officially dead.
Long live Thought Balloons.
Journalista is officially dead.
Long live Thought Balloons.
Monday, June 07, 2004
A question for the viewers at home.
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.
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.
A blow-by-blow account of the Best News of the Day.
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!
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.
(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.
Reaganomicizer.
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?"
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!
Meeting of the masters.
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.)
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.)
Sunday, June 06, 2004
Startling blogger confession!
ITEM!
Rick at Eat More People confesses: "I truly am a woman in a man’s body"!
Read the rest here!
Exclamation point!
Rick at Eat More People confesses: "I truly am a woman in a man’s body"!
Read the rest here!
Exclamation point!
Saturday, June 05, 2004
That's funny, I often scream that during sex.
(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.)
That's what you get for wearing a yellow sweater, junior.
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.)
Friday, June 04, 2004
For my personal reference.
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.
Newsarama article talking with retailers about small press books.
Thursday, June 03, 2004
"I never drink... wine."
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.
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.
Disturbing news.
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?
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?
Cutting, roughly.
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.
Like so.
Wednesday, June 02, 2004
Purty.
"Duck Hunt with a Nazi twist"?
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.)
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.)
PANTS STATUS = NEGATIVE
HOUSTON, WE HAVE NO PANTS.
Tuesday, June 01, 2004
Well. Son of a bitch.
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.
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.
Quote Fest 2004!
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!)
"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!)
Interrogation time, kids!
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.
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.
For ze writing of ze papers.
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.
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.
Oh, it's way too late to think this hard.
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.
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.
Monday, May 31, 2004
Insert peals of laughter here.
| 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 Acronym Generator
From Go-Quiz.com
Courtesy of Johnny, who is, apparently, "yum."
Sunday, May 30, 2004
Calling all AiT/PlanetLar fans.
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.
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.
Saturday, May 29, 2004
Trailers.
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.
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.
Memorable.
“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.
Yeah, you need to read the rest. I hope stories like that are a regular feature on Polite Dissent.
Friday, May 28, 2004
Quick thought.
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.
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.
Pitiful.
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.)
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.)
Thursday, May 27, 2004
You like-a the Viper?
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.
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.
Wednesday, May 26, 2004
A little something to add to the conversation.
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.)
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.)
Today's comic purchases at a glance.
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.
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.
Yes. Very yes. Very, very yes.
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.)
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.)
Tuesday, May 25, 2004
Local boy done good!
(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.
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.
How can you not love this shit?
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:
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.
This comic book cover cracks me the fuck up:
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.
Batman Open Mike submission.
(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
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
Monday, May 24, 2004
BATMAN POETRY CHALLENGE.
It's Open Mike Night, and the Dark Knight has some choice things to say in the language of the poets.
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.)
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.)
Constantly.. a source of aggravation.
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.
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.
Do WHAT?
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.
I'm bickity-back.
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...
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...
