Part II: Joycore & the (New) Mainstream

(Blogger ate the first two tries at this post. Luckily I keep a back-up. Trying this again.)

Welcome back to the second part of our adventures with pop comics and the mainstream, new or otherwise. I'll be sprinkling in a few more fun panels from Kill Your Boyfriend, because images are cool. I suppose I should disclaim and all that, and mention that they're all copyrighted by Grant Morrison, Philip Bond, DC/Vertigo, or some combination thereof, or whatever.

I think, in yesterday's post, I called KYB "joycore." I could be wrong. Either way, I believe it to be so. Now, I get mocked a lot for talking about this "joycore" thing, but it's a philosophy that became completely apparent to me as soon as I heard the word. What is it, you ask? Well, the term originated via a Barbelith regular who needed a word to describe a specific feeling, that innate feeling of fist-pumping joy and awesomeness. And so joycore was born. There are numerous Barbelith threads on it. An explanatory one is here. Have some quotage, from 'Saveloy':

The word 'joycore' was invented by a Barbelith regular who most of the people here will know as Flux. He first used the term in his blog when, commenting upon a song by The Danielson Famile, he said something along these lines: "this is the most joyful tune ever made. Somebody should invent a movement for this sort of thing, and they should call it JOYCORE." A week or two later, the first joycore threads appeared on Barbelith.
As I understand it, joycore is pro things that make you go "woo-hoo!" and "yay!", and anti things that say "bah!" and "feh..." and "Pah!"

The opposite of 'joycore' is 'borecore,' which I suppose you can now figure out.

Flux: "Joycore is fairly self explanatory. It's a pro-fun, pro-imagination, self-empowering, anti-borecore philosophy. Nick's fixation on the image threads misses the point quite a bit - the threads on Barbelith give a lot of hints and clues as to what Joycore is (and a lot of its meaning is ultimately up to you, should you embrace it), but those threads are only a manifestation of the Joycore spirit, not by any means the totality of what it's all about. Ideally, Joycore and Borecore should be used as adjectives."

Personal examples of things that I find joycore include: Amazing Spider-Man Annual 1, by Stan Lee and Steve Ditko, featuring Spidey vs. the Sinister Six; Fantastic Four #5, by Stan Lee and Jack Kirby, introducing Dr. Doom and involving time-travel and pirates; Batman: The Movie, starring Adam West and Burt Ward in 1966, which I just rewatched today for the first time since I was a wee lad, and found to be absolutely awesome in its glorious and campy joycoreity (exploding sharks! pirates! engines to power! turbines to speed!); Jack Kirby’s DC work in the 1970’s, especially OMAC; Kill Your Boyfriend.

The concepts of "joycore" and "pop comics" don't necessarily go hand-in-hand, but they easily can. Most of my ideas for pop comics could be considered joycore by the right people, and I hope such a thing occurs. Who are these people? Well, I equally hope that they are members of the "New Mainstream," which is a bit of a silly term, but important nonetheless.

Now, there's a book by the name, but that's something else entirely. No, my idea of the New Mainstream has everything to do with, you guessed it, comic books. In the comic book industry, the word "mainstream" is distinctly opposite what the word means in every other form of pop culture. There, mainstream is anything that'll appeal to mass audiences. In comics, mainstream is anything that'll appeal to, sadly, hardcore comic nerds. This means one thing: Comic mainstream = Superheroes.

Now, I love superheroes, don't get me wrong. They really *are* the greatest literary invention of the 20th century like me pal Andy "The Dean" Dean says. When done right, they rock. When done wrong, which is much more frequent, they suck arse. Still. Fans (and fanboys) love their superheroes. There's nothing inherently wrong with that, it's just that that's all the comic industry seems to be, at least to an outside observer.

When one looks outside Marvel and DC, one sees much more new and diverse material. These independent publishers dabble in every genre imaginable, and some contribute very nicely to the comics medium as an art form. It's here where the *true* mainsteam lies, and where I think we can find a "New Mainstream" if we try hard enough. More and more independents are getting noticed in the media, even by high-falutin' book reviewers and the like. Art Spiegleman and Dan Clowes and friends are on bookstore shelves and on NPR and in the New York Times Book Review and all that, and they're given their proper due. Real people, intelligent people, are reading and liking comics... just not the ones with superheroes.

Comics need much more diversification in order to capture this new audience. The independents are doing pretty well, but DC and Marvel comics need to stop mollycoddling the fanboys and appeasing the hardcore nerds (yes, including myself, at times), and publish something other than superheroes. Superheroes aren’t bringing in new readers. The Big Two is preaching to the choir, no matter how hard they try not to. They need to experiment, to do new and different things and try new and different genres. Yes, they’ll fail at times, they might not make a lot of profit in the beginning... but in the long run, they may get a much larger audience interested in them.

I have lots of ideas for pop comics. I hope to write these and get them published. I want to share them with the world. Pop comics are the perfect tool to get new audiences interested in the comic medium, and hopefully I can contribute to this movement, and help find this new, important audience.

There’s a whole new mainstream out there. Find it, chase it, cuddle it, make love to it. It wants what we’re selling, it just doesn’t know it yet.

Bonzai, mofos.

Pop Comics & the (New) Mainstream

It's come to my attention that adding images to these blog posts is easier than ever! So I've updated yesterday's extra-long post with some neat images. Go have a look, and then scroll back up here. I'll wait. I've got some muzak to tide me over. (doot doo dizz-app-bop-doodly-yeah!) Welcome back. Our top story tonight? Pop comics! The new mainstream! And... wait a tick!

This just in: Top hats are sexy. If I had some kind of weird kink, it would be top hats. They make anything sexier! Look at our friend Zatanna here, from the cover of Seven Soldiers: Zatanna #2:

Now look at this weird old man. Sexy as pie, eh? Well... maybe moldy lemon meringue. Does that get moldy? It does now!

Anyway, what does this have to do with pop comics and the (new) mainstream, you ask? Why, nothing! I shall get to that now. As I mentioned yesterday, Warren Ellis wrote a 'Pop Comics Manifesto' back in '99. I know I've read it before, but it has apparently vanished from the internet. After ages of Googling, I came across an important excerpt on an old Article 10 at Ninth Art, by neat-o-keen Brit comics commentator Paul O'Brien. Here's the excerpt, from Ellis:

"The basic definition of the Pop Comic is a finite, commercially accessible, inventive and intelligent modern comics work. A cultural handgrenade, short, bright and inexpensive. An art bomb, cheap as a single and demanding as much of your time. Three or four issues, or a short original graphic novel... And the Pop Comic is creator owned."

Warren and I seem to share the same ideas, as I was very much interested in writing some of these "pop comics," when I discovered a term had been invented for them. Basically, the ideal format for a pop comics is a "graphic novella." It shouldn't be overly long, no longer than 96 pages, and hopefully it's relatively cheap. If one could produce 80-page pop comics for five or six bucks, that'd be perfect. It's, as Warren says, like a pop music single. People seem to like them, and it's a relatively inexpensive and hopefully totally awesome experience. Ellis has done some pop comics like Ministry in Space, Mek, Toyko Storm Warning, Reload, Two-Step, and Red. I, unfortunately, have read none of these. I hear they were good, though! Look for them in trade paperback format.

A perfect example of a pop comic, and an early one, is Grant Morrison and Philip Bond's Kill Your Boyfriend. Other earlier Morrison works may qualify as 'pop comics' as well: Sebastian O? St. Swithin's Day? The Mystery Play? How about his newer stuff, like the "Seagull Trilogy:" Seaguy, We3, Vimanarama!? Peter Milligan's Rogan Gosh might be a pop comic, too. Anyway, I'm sure all of those are fabulous (I've only managed to read Swithin's, which is like a kooky modern version of Catcher in the Rye, and the "Seagull Trilogy," which you've already heard my thoughts about), but this is about Kill Your Boyfriend, which I shall shorten to KYB, like all the cool kids.

KYB is a terrific dark comedy and pop art masterpiece. The official synopsis is this: "Boy meets Girl. Girl falls for Boy. Boy takes Girl on violent rampage through English suburb. Murder, sex, drugs, and anarchy follow." It's very hard to find for purchase, though, as it's out of print for both printings. I suppose you could download it on BitTorrent, where it was available at one time, but that would be "evil," wouldn't it? Apparently, it was written while Grant was on Ecstacy. This does not surprise me. And just for kicks, here is a Random Quote Generator from the comic. It's filled with great and funny quotes.

I suppose I should give this some kind of review. Okay. It's from the creative team and publishing house that brought you Vimanarama!, only this is even better. I know someone on Barbelith said it was the first thing they'd save in case of a fire. Hence, greatness. The book really has to be experienced to be fully appreciated, but I'll tell you a few things. For one thing, the script is sharp, witty, and loaded with sarcastic commentary on teenagers, society, anarchism, and all of that good stuff. There's even a riff on Grant's own Invisibles, although I think this book is pre-Invisibles. Still... then it's a humorous precursor! Whatever. The art, by Bond, is lovely and sharp and pop-y and Girl is very pretty, considering she's made of lines and color. Oh, hell, I'm not doing very well with this, am I? The book is... it's *joycore,* is what it is. I suppose we'll have to settle for a small barrage of panels from the book. Here we go!


I could go on. There are dozens of panels and pages that are beautiful and inspired and filled with love, lunacy, and sheer brilliance. I skipped a lot. Alas, I can't put the entire book on here. You'll have to track it down somehow. I give Kill Your Boyfriend a 9/10, because it warms the devious, twisted cockles.

There are also pop *webcomics,* at least, according to my definition. You can find a couple fantastic ones with the open-source character of Jenny Everywhere (speaking of which, I should write a short Jenny script one of these days). My absolutely favorite Jenny strips, which I believe are truly short little pop webcomics, are by fellow 'Lithers Joe Macare and Nelson Evergreen, and they can be found here, here, and here. They're only a few pages each, and they're brilliant. Well worth your time.

So, right. Pop comics. Awesome little art bombs, medium-sized page count, comics with spines (and I mean that both figuratively and literally... it's not a pamphlet, it's a book with an actual spine!), filled with wonderful ideas. They are meant to be devoured, savored, digested, enjoyed, pored over, reread constantly until they fall apart. They are that amazing musical single you just can't stop listening to. They're somewhere between comic singles (or monthlies, floppies, pamphlets, whatever) and TPBs or graphic novels. I've got ideas for a zillion of 'em. About houseboats, hobos, popes, rock bands, living moons, pirates, ninjas, robots, monkeys, mariachis, pet fire hydrants, love, life, and imagination. Pop comics are new, they're interesting, they're experimental, and most of all, they're hella fun. I want to see more of them in the future, and I may just get my wish.

It seems I've run out of time and space, so in our next episode, we'll get to the actual "New Mainstream" part of this column. Stay tuned, same Bill-time, same Bill-channel!

Jeezum Crow! New Content?!?

(I had a good post going, and then Firefox froze on me. So I’ll try to rewrite it the best I can.)

So it’s come to my attention that three or so people peruse this blog on occasion, and I’ve let it fall by the wayside, which might disappoint them. Then again, I may have hallucinated them when I was on the Vicodin. (I had a prescription, dammit! Don’t hound me, varlets!)

Anyway, let’s get up to date: It’s been a helluva month, from late May through June! But I’ve survived, and hopefully have a good month-and-a-half of boredom ahead of me. So I’ll do some writing, I guess, which may include this little bloggy-type dealy, though if certain events spring into motion, I may fold this into another website which will have much better content, commentary, and, perhaps, webcomics. Of course, places like Comic Book Galaxy and Millarworld are doing fantastic comics/pop culture commentary right now, so maybe there is no longer a place for my dream. Still, I’d like to give it a go. Also, I’ve got plenty of ideas for a few little Parodyverse ditties, as well, as several premises for pop comics (Warren Ellis originated the term, and I’d link to where I read about it, only I just searched for fifteen minutes and couldn’t find a damn thing. So do your own research, sorry!) that I’d like to write pitches and/or scripts for, sometime. So I’ve a lot to do, and not much time to do it! Which generally means I’ll get nothing done. Go me!

To sum up what’s happened during my long absence, ‘cause I haven’t been around on here since March, unless you count that quick post in May, it all fits into one sentence: “I hate my life.” Naturally, there’s more to it. Let’s see... School ended, stuff happened, I went to social events, I took a vacation with friends, I’ve had my heart broken and my spirit crushed and neither of them are mended yet (let’s put it this way: I can’t listen to Billy Joel music anymore, without getting utterly depressed), and, oh yes, I’m deathly afraid of life and the future. I think that about does it right there, don’t you? Let’s move on.

My God, I just checked: this blog is nearly a year old! That was fast. I’m not so sure “The Lithium Age” is a good name for this one-sided forum anymore, but I don’t care! So it stays, for now, until I start a new, hopefully more regular column somewhere else, where I may come up with something better. It’s not that I don’t believe in the message of the Lithium Age (check the archives, dammit!) but it’s not like I’ve focused on it much.

Let’s do that now, then. What are good comics that are following the standards of the Lithium Age? What’s bringing us into a new age of imagination and quality? I’ll tell you.

1. Grant Morrison’s Seven Soldiers: I could rave about this, and go on and on and on, but I think this column here says everything I want to, only better. It’s good, quality comics, done in a way no other comics have been done before. It’s a huge pile of material, and it’s all new and different. So far I’d say Shining Knight and Zatanna have been the best mini-series (the others being Manhattan Guardian and Klarion the Witch Boy, both of which are very good) so far. Morrison is a pioneer in the comics medium, and he’s the best and most imaginative author working in the field today.

2. Desolation Jones: This is a new book by Warren Ellis and JH Williams III and friends, and it’s a detective book starring a strange, gray-toned man with a trenchcoat, blanket, and gas mask, who lives in LA, which is actually an open prison for ex-spies and the like, and a very weird place indeed. I hope you don’t mind if I basically copy and paste some material I posted over at Barbelith here.

“I found this fresh and fun, in that frightening, dirty way. Heh.
I quite like the premise (and the plot: Hitler porn? Awesome), and Jones himself is an interesting character. The book reads like Marlowe stepped into the maddening horror and perversion of contemporary America. So yes, the writing was pretty good (I was sold halfway through the first page), but that's hardly the major selling point of the book. Rather...
The art: Fantastic. JH Williams III (great name, too) keeps cranking out beautiful comics. The guy's an artiste. The page layouts are always well-done (the two-page spread of the eye-gouging... I mean, it's gloriously violent), and the linework is, of course, superb.
The lettering: My God, the LETTERING! The lettering is what basically convinced me to pick up the book, and it's marvelous, in the vein of old 50's EC comics.
So, yeah, it's a good comic. I'll be there for #2.”

I’d give the first issue of Desolation Jones a 9/10, because I’m feeling particularly nice. (The image is borrowed from Pipeline at Comic Book Resources. Look at that lettering!)

That’s aboot it, in the true Lithium area. Other comics I’ve picked up lately include Vimanarama (which concluded better than it began, and, while I didn’t fall in love with it, wasn’t really that bad. In fact, I could write a bloody paper on it. I’ll give it a 7/10 overall), Gotham Central (it’s solid as always, but I wish Rucka would write about someone other than Montoya for a change; 7/10), and JLA Classified (Giffen and DeMatteis wrapped up their arc, and it was filled with comedy, drama, heartache, love, action, more comedy, and plenty of irony. Also a 7/10.) Human Target, sadly, has ended, but it was very good (8/10), I dropped Fantastic Four after Waid left (6/10), and Astonishing X-Men gets worse and worse (3.5/10, because I'm mean. Sorry, Joss).

I’m not really a fan of either of the Big Two’s directions right now. Marvel has reached new levels of banality, and the DCU is now a mostly inbred mess of crossovers, with plots that piss me off. I’m sticking to the peripheral stuff, and you should, too.

As for the realm of television, I’ve become addicted to medical dramas now, as I’ve been watching Grey’s Anatomy, House, and ER reruns nonstop. I’m also watching the FBI drama ‘The Inside,’ mainly because a lot of Buffy crew are involved, and it’s not bad, but the ratings are abysmal, so surely it’s doomed. Alas. (I’m surely watching other stuff, but I can’t think of ‘em right now! Haha!)

As for movies, Sin City rocked, Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy was alright, but the books are better, and Batman Begins is incredibly awesome. Go see it.

And the Celebrity of the Moment (#3 in a series) is... um... oh, let’s make it Clint Howard. I’ll let the unfamiliar among you do your own homework on this one, but basically he’s Ron Howard’s less famous and uglier brother. And yet he’s still cooler than you. Glavin! (Fear him!)

That’s *plenty* for now. Catch you later. (You know who you are. At least, I hope so. If you’re suffering from amnesia, e-mail me! I’ll be glad to help.)

Support Rann!

Rann can kick Thanagar's ass any day. I mean, they've got wings, sure, but we've got jetpacks and kickassery.

Go Rann!

(Thanks to Dial B for Blog for the image.)

Oh, right, and I'm still alive, dammit!

This Bill-- This Blogger! (Comics Review Revue strikes again!)

I'm not a fan of blogs. And I'm not your typical "blogger." And I really should be studying, or writing this history paper, rather than silly comic reviews, but I'm bored and I'm procrastinating. So I'ma gonna talk about the fact that I spent thirty-three dollars at the comic shop and walked out with eleven comics, which may seem crazy to you, and yes, it's true, comics are too damn expensive these days. But there was some damn good material hidden within, and I'll babble on about it until my brain leaks out my ears. This episode of Comics Revue is accompanied by the unofficial Comics Review Revue Showgirls, and I'm sure you'll be entranced by their leggy boogies. Also, aside from the usual numerical review notation, I'll steal from the Savage Critic review scale. On with the show.

Astonishing X-Men #7-8: So I tracked down the issues anyway. These two issues are better than the last few have been (though if you read the first arc straight through with an open mind, it isn't really that bad). Sure, there's still some fanwank and a thoroughly pointless Fantastic Four guest appearance, but the pacing's really good and the plot's intriguing. I'ma give it a 7/10, I suppose. This merits a Good on the SavCrit scale.

Fantastic Four #523: Hmm, I dunno. I read this last, as, well, it's probably my least-favorite comic on my pull list anymore (only one issue to go after this one), and this issue was pretty lackluster, although I liked the previous couple episodes. Some decent bits, but otherwise pretty lame. 5.5/10. This is what we in the business call Okay.

Gotham Central #28-29: I'm liking the better production values of this book (and the price hasn't gone up yet!). This is the first half or so of a new arc which starts off from the perspective of a beat cop, something we don't normally see. The best parts are the character bits, however, and although I think Montoya's a little overused (she's Rucka's pet character), she's probably the most popular character in the book, and I really liked the developments occurring in this story (plus: lesbians! Well, for those of you who are enticed by that sorta thing). The crossover with the cops from Flash is handled well, even though I dislike that book. I'm not so into the whole "cop transformed into monster!" angle, though. It's also pretty hard to tell that Michael Lark left the book, because the former inker is pencilling this arc, and it's pretty damn good. 8.5/10, or Very Good.

Human Target #19: This is part one of the final storyarc of this title, and it's mostly set-up. Tom McFadden, the apprentice to Christopher Chance from the original Vertigo mini-series returns, and he's even more screwed-up than ever, and seems to have some kind of "evil plan" in the works. I hope the book wraps up well, but this issue wasn't necessarily anything exciting. 6/10. High OK, low Good, whatever.

JLA Classified #4: This is part one of the "I Can't Believe It's Not the Justice League" arc, which was held back because Identity Crisis bollocksed with the cast, etc, but it's okay! It's here! We've got it! For the uneducated, this is the sequel to "Formerly Known as the Justice League," which reunited the comedy team of Keith Giffen, JM DeMatteis, and Kevin Maguire, the original creative team of the *funny* Justice League comics from the late 80's and early 90's. It's got my favorite character in it (Elongated Man), and his wife isn't dead in this, so, heh, yay! This one's loaded with quite a few chuckles, and it's all just character interaction, with an old favorite returning on the very last page. Sure, it's nostalgia, but this is one nostalgia train that I'm glad to hop onto. Maguire has a great gift for facial expression and figurework. 8/10, Very Good.

Seven Soldiers #0: Okay, here's where we make Lithium Age Comics Review Revue history. Let me start off by saying this is an absolutely fantastic comic by two creators who are on top of their respective games: Writer Grant Morrison and artist JH Williams III. Plus, this issue is a great deal, with 38 pages of story for a mere three bucks (usually you'd just be getting 22 or 23 pages with that). It starts off the huge Seven Soldiers mega-series with a bang, and I know I'll have to buy every single issue.
The story's a wild romp of triumph and tragedy. The plot: An old hero, rather than head for the retirement home, rounds up a posse of other super-heroes to battle a spider monster that he thought he killed over a hundred years ago. He's the cowboy hero called Vigilante. The Whip, granddaughter of the original Whip, tags along because she's become obsessed with her role as a super-hero, and it writing a book about it. Joining them are Boy Blue, Dan the Dyna-Mite, Gimmix, and I, Spyder.
The design of this comic is just fabulous. The panelwork and layout of the pages is beautiful in itself, and the artwork is absolutely brilliant. The best bit is how each member of the "Seven" Soldiers represents a different era of comics, and is each drawn a different way to emphasize that. Vigilante is an old 30's/40's comic, Gimmix is a 50's pin-up, Dan (the "hero-vestite") turns into a Kirby drawing, I, Spyder becomes an "Ultimate" version of himself... The art is breathtaking, and loaded with detail. It's a thing of beauty to behold.
I love how Grant Morrison makes me care about all these characters within a few pages, with just a few lines of dialogue, and I love how the characters reflect different periods of comics history. As someone else said, it's like taking a bunch of super-heroes and throwing them into the Big Brother house. Their interaction is fab.
Anyway, I'm gushing. Nevertheless, this is the best comic of the year so far, and it reminds me of why I love the medium so much. Truly an awesome achievement, and deserves an Excellent grading, and also is the very first comic I've reviewed in this column that's ever gotten a 10/10.

Seven Soldiers: Shining Knight #1: This is the first issue of the first Seven Soldiers mini-series, and it's really good stuff. It starts off in the midst of a huge Arthurian legend, with the Knights of the Broken Table getting their butts handed to them by mystical faerie villains the Sheeda. Only young 16-year-old knight Sir Justin can save the day. It's here we get our first glimpse of the main villainess of the mega-series, Gloriana Tenebrae, the queen of darkness. She's every evil woman or witch from every myth or fairy tale wrapped into one imposing figure.
I'm no fan of the fantasy genre, but this issue works for me. It's got knights and monsters and talking winged horses, but it works. It also ties into Arthurian and Celtic myth, and I am a fan of mythology. Of course, by the end of the issue it's taking place in modern day. I look forward to see where it's heading...
Okay, so we know the story's good (it's Grant Morrison, remember), but the art's from someone hardly anyone's heard of (Simone Bianchi) but it's really damn good stuff. It's like a cross between the styles of Gil Kane and Barry Windsor-Smith, filtered through the European school of comic art.
It's a fine comic, and I love it more each time I look at it. 9/10, Very (Very) Good.

Vimanarama! #1-2: This is the third and last of Grant Morrison's wave of three Vertigo mini-series, and it's also my least favorite, so far. Granted, there's one more issue after this, but these first two leave me a bit cold. It's probably my least-favorite Morrison work since Zenith (which came out ages ago).
It's about two Pakistani teenagers in England who are arranged to be married and end up unleashing an ancient evil, as well as an ancient good. It's apparently a big Bollywood epic through the eyes of a Jack Kirby comic, and that sure sounds good, but I'm unsure about the execution. There's plenty of good moments (the evil guy drinking a Molotov cocktail; "My knee... grazed beyond redemption!") but I'm just not feeling the apparent joycore-ness of it. The characters are alright but not spectacular, the mythological background is muddled, and the plot's kinda thin. The art (by Philip Bond, who previously teamed with Morrison on the very good 'Kill Your Boyfriend') is pretty good, but not up to his usual caliber.
As far as I can tell, there's some kind of industrialization vs. mysticism theme going on. Also, I see, as I said on the Barbelith thread devoted to it, the ramifications of ancient religious figures showing up in modern day, where no one cares about them anymore. It's shown most clearly in the scene where these new gods are "restoring the fallen world to glory," but it's really just turning into a frightening science-magic place where the regular humans feel quite uneasy. Perhaps it's about modern society realizing it doesn't need the ancient gods helping it, anymore. It could be some kind of pro-atheist thing, though more than likely it just means that humanity needs to find its own strength, and shouldn't rely on the direct actions of the gods, that humanity can find its own way.
So, yeah, it's alright, but nothing spectacular, and I think it's pretty predictable (I've got the next issue figured out, I think, and I'm not sure if I'll be glad to be wrong or if it *should* go in my predicted direction). Lots of people seem to like, it, though, but others seem to be a bit indifferent, like me. I'll give it a 6/10, so it's just OK.

I see I've finished, and so have the dancers. We all need a break, and hopefully I've honed my review skills enough to tackle this history dealy. So I guess that means I'm off. ...but wait! I've forgotten! We need a...

Celebrity of the Moment (#2): Bill Pullman, ladies and gents! Yeah, the president from Independence Day, or that dude that made me mock The Grudge relentlessly. Basically, he's just like Jeff Daniels, but lamer. I... don't have much to say about him. But he's Bill freakin' Pullman!

Why I Hate Valentine's Day

Here's an oldie, but a goodie. Wrote this last year. My opinion hasn't changed.

***

The extremely popular comedian Lewis Black has summed it up excellently in one of his more familiar routines. In this routine the angry comic goes on to explain how winter is a horribly gray period of life, and how each day gets grayer and grayer still until it’s the grayest day you’ve ever seen…and then it gets even grayer. And then, finally, everything is so gray you slit your wrists just to see color...and this day happens to be Valentine’s Day. Quite frankly, this is an excellent summation of how things seem to work.

What is Valentine’s Day supposed to be about? Well, it seems it was named after a St. Valentine, who was a nice guy and priest who was put to death on February 14^th for marrying people secretly or some such. He left a note to someone saying “from your Valentine,” and this, combined with a Juno-worshipping Roman ceremony from times past involving something about couples, gave us our concept of Valentine’s Day. I’m too lazy to do a whole lot of research about it, but it seems more than a bit morbid to me.

This is sure to bring me to my point eventually. The point is, of course, that my cynical self cannot seem to appreciate or find value in Valentine’s Day, which is, after all, the most depressing day of the year, usually. Why, you ask? Well, let’s pose a question to all of you gentle readers who like the old Valentine’s Day. Why do you enjoy it? I implore you to send fan/hate mail through some means or other and let us at this fine newspapering establishment know.

Perhaps, though, I can beat you to it. Let’s think; there’s this “love” thing going around these days, like some kind of epidemic. Methinks that’s why people enjoy Feb. 14^th. After all, the entire world can’t be celebrating your favorite Spanish teacher’s birthday; there’s got to be some other reason! All the happy couples seem to like it, what with all this “love” stuff going around, and the flowers and candy and cute small fuzzy animals and whatnot. While this may seem perfectly natural to some of you out there, you people are obviously forgetting about a large group of others who aren’t having the time of their lives; the lonely people.

Therefore, I suggest some kind of day for the lonely people, too. Perhaps on Feb. 15^th, just to spite the happy people. I’d name it after a depressed and lonesome Saint, but I don’t know any offhand, unless you count the football team. However, I do know my Beatles. Henceforth, I declare Feb. 15^th to be Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Day, from here on out. I doubt I’ll be throwing candy and furry animals around or wearing a party hat, but I think maybe I can take a few moments out of my daily moping/brooding/sulking ritual to somberly acknowledge good ol’ Sgt. Pepper, who for so long sought the tender embrace of companionship, that from which he was forever forsaken. Or possibly forsook.

So you could call me a pessimist. Frankly, I think I’m sometimes too much of an optimist, which scares me. I’ve become a sad, lonely old man a few decades early. Just because I listen to depressing music, talk with depressed people, watch depressing TV, write a few depressing stories, and hide from society all the time doesn’t mean I’m some kind of crazy depressing hermit. Maybe one day, but not now! No, but I’m not a shiny happy ball of sunshine like some of you, either. I’ve seen my share of enjoyable moments, but I’ve seen a lot more depressing breakdowns. Believe you me, I understand the depressed and lonely. And it’s from experience.

Now, this article had its fair share of levity, but it also might’ve shown you that not everyone has a fun Valentine’s Day, or enjoys it too much. God knows I’ve tried, sometimes, but maybe it’s just a few traumatic memories that spoil it. Here’s my advice to you; find the nearest lonely fellow or downtrodden fellowette and give ‘em a good ol’ hug. Maybe you can help someone have a decent Valentine’s Day. Or maybe you’ll just get a restraining order. Either way, I’ll lift my glass in a toast on Sgt. Pepper’s Day. Now if you’ll excuse me, it’s time for my six o’clock moping period, so I’m afraid I’ll have to draw this article to a close.

Doom Patois

As the more astute readers in our little imaginary audience here know, I'm a big fan of Grant Morrison's writing, heralding him as "the best comics writer ever," yes, better than Alan Moore (in my not-fully-defined list of the Top Ten Best Comics Ever, Grant Morrison and Frank Quitely's obscure "Flex Mentallo" beats out the highly-touted "Watchmen" by Alan Moore and Dave Gibbons. Flex is #1. Watchmen's #2. Also on the list somewhere is Walt Simonson's run on "Orion" as well as Frank Miller's "The Dark Knight Returns" and a few other things. I haven't really given it a lot of thought, but you can imagine that Morrison, Moore, and maybe even Miller get a couple of spots on the list. Maybe one day I'll do a column. Oh no, look out, here comes the end parenthesis!). Today we'll look at one specific Morrison work, and that, unfortunately, still isn't that Seaguy thesis I promised. Boo hoo. No, I'm talking about Doom Patrol, and more specifically, the first trade paperback, entitled Crawling from the Wreckage, collecting Morrison's first seven issues in his really freakin' long run on the title (he lasted from #19 to #63.)

Now, I'd never read any of his Doom Patrol before, but I knew that Morrison aficionados proclaimed it to be one of his all-time best works. I also knew that the glorious Flex Mentallo sprung from Doom Patrol's pages. I assumed it'd be one of the best reads out there. Alas, that wasn't entirely true; this trade is good, but it's not great. I'll still pick up the second trade, though, and I hope they put the rest of the series out in book form, as the original issues are hard to track down (Grant began his run in 1989). Still, this is early in the run, and I assume it gets better as it goes on, as all of his longer works do (which is why I haven't totally written off The Invisibles yet; one day, I'll pick up the rest of the series). I can see that quite a few themes that are prevalent in most of his works spring up here. The book also has decent, serviceable art, but it's not spectacular.

Before I go on, though, I'm sure my imaginary audience wants to know who the hell the Doom Patrol are, and why they should care. The original Doom Patrol was billed as "the world's strangest heroes!" back when they first appeared in the early 60's (a few months before the X-Men, who, coincidentally, share an awful lot of odd similarities with the Doom Patrol, including wheelchairs and evil brotherhoods). In fact, they were. The Doom Patrol weren't super-heroes; they were just a bunch of odd, slightly-scary, and handicapped people trying to do the right thing. There was Robotman, a brain in a robot body; Negative Man, a radioactive guy wrapped in bandages with a "negative spirit" that jumped out of his body and handled the action for him; and Elasti-Girl, a former starlet who shrank and grew and expanded random body parts. Yes, she got off easy. And they were led by a bearded chap in a wheelchair, The Chief. They had some thrilling, weird, and smart adventures before they were all killed off abruptly when their series was suddenly cancelled.

The Doom Patrol concept was brought back in a major way in the 80's, when DC Comics resurrected the title. Robotman was back, but the others were dead, and then a bunch of lame no-name characters filled in the rest of the ranks. By the end of that run, The Chief and Negative Man were alive again, but poor Elasti-Girl was still dead (and she stayed that way until madman John Byrne rebooted the whole DP timeline last year). It was a boring and generic super-hero comic.

And then, Grant Morrison came in.

Immediately the book re-embraced its weird and spooky roots. The Doom Patrol was once again strange. Robotman was still around (though he'd prefer you call him Cliff, as it's his name), and so was The Chief (though he was a bit more eccentric), but new characters were brought in, a few old ones were reinvigorated, and then there was what happened to poor Negative Man. You see, Larry Trainor was merged with Dr. Eleanor Poole by the negative spirit into a hermaphrodite wrapped in bandages and sporting a trenchcoat. S/he chose the name "Rebis" for his/her new self. Yes, it's that weird. There was also Crazy Jane, a schizophrenic whose different personalities each had a different super-power; Joshua Clay, a normal guy with some basic energy-blasts and flight and stuff who's too weirded out to really be any sort of super-hero, and so decides to help out in medical and scientific capacities only; and Dorothy Spinner, the young girl with an ape's face who had imaginary friends that had the tendency to spring to life. Also making appearance is Rhea Jones, a comotose woman sleeping her way to a new destiny.

The first big story in this volume is about a fictitious, unreal world that's becoming realer by the second, with only the Doom Patrol able to stop it, by journeying to said unreal world and unraveling the contradiction upon which its built. It starts out in a mental hospital and ends up in the new Doom Patrol headquarters, which used to be the old Justice League headquarters. Along for the ride are the classic and creepy Scissormen, sci-fi updates to an old fairy tale. The best moment is a little sidenote, where a priest sees what he believes to be a sign from God to have faith (but the curvy bit of the G is obscured) when it suddenly begins to rain every kind of fish ("No cod, though.") Then, suddenly, the poor priest is crushed by a refrigerator.

The second, and best, story in the book, focuses on Red Jack, a strange and frightening villain for another dimension, who is seemingly omnipotent and claims to be both Jack the Ripper and God (and who's to say for sure he's lying?). He collects Rhea and goes back to his home dimension, but the Doom Patrol follow him to get her back. The best issue in the whole thing is #24, "The House that Jack Built," where the DP journey to Jack's world and confront him. Poor Cliff gets his face bashed in and an arm ripped off, but the heroes triumph by freeing all the poor butterflies that Jack tortures constantly in order to maintain his existence. As Red Jack withers away to nothing, he says "I... I thought I was part of the grand story... the story that... that would at last give meaning to this senseless trajectory... the loop and spin of being... Instead... instread I have learned a horrible truth about existence... Some story have no meaning. Oh, bugger..." The DP are left wondering how the hell they're going to get home. (My other favorite moment in the issue is the opening, which takes place entirely in the dark. Two people are talking to each other, and you don't realize till the lights come on that it's only Rebis.)

The final story is a one-off about Dorothy's imaginary friends coming back to get revenge, with only Joshua around to save her. It's a pretty nice little tale that combines the Wizard of Oz with menstruation metaphors. The book also ends with little scenes that lead up to cliffhangers, as it seems a new and even-odder Brotherhood of Evil is forming.

All in all it's a pretty good book, but it's also lacking a bit. One can already see Morrison repeating himself (The DP travel to a weird, possibly-imaginary dimension, and fight weird enemies. Meanwhile, other weird stuff happens. Wash, rinse, repeat ad infinitum). However, the formula appears to work quite well. And by the end of the book you can already see Richard Case's art improving (although the Joshua/Dorothy story is a fill-in by Doug Braithwaite). Morrison, as usual, fills the thing with wild and brilliant ideas, and occasionally his characterization suffers for it. Crazy Jane is pretty well mapped-out, but some of her super-powered personalities come off like Deus Ex Machinas (well, actually, pretty much all of them do. I think that's the point). Cliff, aka Robotman, works well as the central character, as he's the perfect everyman, but sometimes he comes off like a "tin-plated Arthur Dent," as I think I once read somewhere ("What? What? What's going on?" "What?") The Chief, however, exudes a nice badass demeanor every once in a while, and Rebis is verrrry interesting (Rebis visits Eleanor's fiance and he pretty much undergoes an emotional breakdown, but Rebis just can't feel the same way, coming out with hilarious lines like "Don't get blood on the coat" at inopportune moments. The interplay between both halves of Rebis is a fun thing to watch... and just what's the deal with the negative spirit?). Josh is still a bit of a cipher, however, and Dorothy is nice and all, but at times annoying. There's also weak spots when it comes to pacing, plotting, and dialogue, but there's also a lot of good stuff to make up for it, especially in the thematic and metaphorical arenas, as well as some cool imagery and even cooler moments, whether they're humorous, emotional, or dynamically action-packed.

Still, however, I recommend the trade, and I'm definitely going to buy the second one (it's called The Painting That Ate Paris, in case you were wondering). As it stands, I'm giving this book a 7.5/10. I think later volumes will get even better.

There. I think that covered everything. If not, well, I'll be back. (Look for a second Celebrity of the Moment in an upcoming, and hopefully shorter, episode of The Lithium Age. This one's long enough.)

(Okay, now I'm done with the overuse of parentheses (I really mean it! (No, really.)) ...right.... (wait for it...) now!)

Hodgerton McPodgery

"Oh Bill," say the ladies (and some of the more flamboyant chaps), "you're so zany and irreverent!" Ahh, how true you are, ladies. But you missed the part where I'm socially relevant and just damn incredibly sexy. ...maybe not that last one, but I'm sure I can improve with copious amounts of plastic surgery. Yes. Copious amounts. I bet you're excited now.
Anyhoo, this episode of our irregularly-scheduled program is, as the name implies, both wacky and a mix of miscellany. We'll have the usual raves, reviews, and ramblings and all that other swill I keep feeding my imaginary audience. You know, the usual.

Starting off, I'll mention that I just purchased the film Shaun of the Dead, though I purchased it used, and I haven't put it in the machine yet, so God knows if it actually works. I rented this a few weeks back and thought it was just like me: zany, irreverent, and oh-so damn incredibly sexy, or would be with copious amounts of plastic surgery. And this makes sense, as it is a romantic zombie comedy that is written by, directed by, and starring some comics/movies/video game geeks who say "bollocks" a lot. I'm sure I'd get along great with these chaps. And yes, it's bloody (and bloody great) film. You won't even mind the gore and strong language because it's all in good fun and everyone's got a British accent. I give it a 9/10. It makes an excellent addition to my growing collection of horror comedies. It's right up there with the Evil Deads and Bubba Ho-Tep and the like. (By the by: Best line in the film? This one's a toughie, but I'll give it to "Oh, he's got an arm off!")

Mental note: Buy the Sky Captain DVD.

It's also a good time to read comics. Picked up nine books from the shop the other day, considering I'd been MIA since November or so. I would've/could've/should've bought more, but I don't want to bankrupt m'self. Also didn't even notice till I'd left that AXM #7 hadn't appeared in my pull box. Not sure if I actually care yet, as I wasn't in love with the title.
To be a bit different this time, I've decided to relate the comics I've read to different colors, from which you'll attempt to discern some type of meaning. Plus maybe I'll be nice and throw in a few words of actual content. Go!

Fantastic Four #521-522: Aquamarine. 7/10. (The book's back on track, but a little too late for that.)
Gotham Central #26-27: Periwinkle. 9/10. (Spectacular set of issues, here. Also, note the improved paper stock that accompanies #27. Will this be soon joined by an increased price?)
Human Target #17-18: Burnt sienna. 7/10 & 9/10, respectively. (It's a shame this has been cancelled. I love it. Note the guest-art by Seaguy's (and Barbelith's) Cameron Stewart in #17. Also, #18 is the best issue since, oh, somewhere around #9 or 11.)
JLA Classified #2-3: Day-glo orange with neon pink polka dots. 9/10. (This is pure comics magic, baby! Joycore pop, and a bunch of other fun buzz words. Super-hero fantastico!)
We3 #3: The color of heartbreak! Of rain! Of tears! Of sorrow and joy and hope and misery and life! Life itself, baby! ...so I guess that's battleship gray, or cadet blue, or off-white or something. Beats me. We3 is easily the best comic I've read since Seaguy though, which is fitting, as the same guy wrote them. We3 is what comics are all about, kids. 9.2365/10.

You'll notice I've never given anything a 10/10 in a review yet. I'm saving that for the perfectest thing in the world, and I haven't found it yet. A 10 is perfect, and I don't want to throw out too many perfect grades. Hell, Flex Mentallo's my favorite comic ever, and sure, I'll give it a 10, but I'd be tempted to give it a 9. I think Watchmen deserves a 10 as well. And a good six or seven episodes of Buffy. Not sure if I've ever seen a 10 movie, though. Maybe one day.

Monk's on tonight. Give it a watch. Sure, Sharona's gone, but the new girl... Natalie, or whatever, played by Traylor Howard from Two Guys and a Girl, my officially favorite sitcom (MASH is not a sitcom, dammit!), is the new assitant, and I'm interested to see where it's going to go. It probably won't be the same... maybe it shouldn't be.

Celebrity of the Moment (#1): A new feature here at Lithium Age, which may not continue from this installment, but, what the hell... LeVar Burton, ladies and gentlemen. The guy from stuff like Star Trek and Reading Rainbow, and, yes, Roots, where he got whipped, and stuff. If I ever meet the fellow I'll have to apologize. He won't understand why, but I will. So many whipping jokes... but it's all in good fun. So thanks, LeVar. You made me read! You wore that cool visor-thingy! And you got whipped. Kunta Kinte!

I bet you Bill fanboys and fangirls will be able to predict who future CotMs will be. So we'll see if you're right! You probably will be. I'm quite predictable. Ahh, well. Too bad.

Until next time, you groovy cats and kittens. Over and oot.

2005: A Preview Prevue

So we're not even one entire month into 2005, and already it sucks. And here I thought things couldn't get any worse, but clearly reality hates me. Anyway... 2005 might break its promises, but to me, it looks like a good year for pop culture. There's a couple decent TV shows on the air, some interesting movies on the horizon, and a mountain of good comics that look worth reading. Let's leap into the fray and talk about what we know.

Film:
TV: Yeah, so, in the film arena, there's more episodes of Boston Legal coming. Yay! And Arrested Development. Yay! And Family Guy's coming back. Yay! And Seth McFarlane's other show, American Dad. I'll at least check that out. There's also Monk, which just came back yesterday. The new cast member, Traylor Howard (the girl from Two Guys and a Girl) is alright, but she's no Sharona, at least not yet. Yes, I'm still bitter about that.

Movies: Lots of good stuff. I'll go see Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, Batman Begins, and Serenity (Joss Whedon's Firefly movie), at least. Tim Burton will have a nice year, with him and Johnny Depp teaming up for Charlie and the Chocolate Factory as well as the Corpse Bride, a feature animated the same way Nightmare Before Christmas was. There's Sin City, which looks amazing but might not be amazing, but it's got help from Rodriguez, Tarantino, and Frank Miller himself. Um... there's also... well, a lot of stuff that's not jumping to memory right now. ...Fantastic Four! Yeah. But the trailer sucked. Um... never mind.

Comics:
Now for the stuff I actually know a lot about. The comics. I'm seriously going to go broke this year, and that's just from buying Grant Morrison comics. There's Vimanarama!, there's the massive 30-something issues of Seven Soldiers, and there's All-Star Superman with Frank Quitely. And I'll be buying all of it.
Then we've got some nice JLA Classified with Giffen and DeMatteis returning, as well as the same team's take on Marvel's Defenders. Warren Ellis and JH Williams bring us Desolation Jones, which sounds good enough for me to check out. Frank Miller and Jim Lee will sell, probably, 300 thousand copies of All-Star Batman & Robin, but I probably won't be buying it.
Unfortunately, Human Target has been cancelled... but Gotham Central is still alive.
You'll notice everything mentioned here is DC, except for Defenders. I'm apparently falling away with Marvel, due to them pumping out a zillion crappy books, none of them with any imagination or good stories in them. Just a few years ago, Marvel was a smart and experimental company, and now it's watered-down fanwank crap.

Er... anyway, there's 2005 for you. I'm kinda tired of writing this now, as I only wrote this one just to update the damned site, and because I'm bored to death. You'll notice the get-to-the-point-iness of all of it, majorly lacking my trademark wit. Ugh.

2004: A Space Blogyssey (The Year in Review Revue!)

So that's the end of that chapter. Hi. I'm back, again, and, like everyone else who has one of these talky-boxes, am going to talk about the year that has just passed, 2004. It was the best of times (well, not really), it was the worst of times (like always). As far as I can remember, and I have a very spotty memory, 2004 sucked. A lot of crappy stuff happened, and once again, I let the year end with regret. But I've forgotten everything before September, anyway. Still, let's discuss the ups of the year, and then maybe I'll throw in a few downs if I don't forget by the time I finish typing this baby up.
Cutting to the chase, this is my own personal awards show, for everything I can think of at the moment. So we'll talk all of pop culture, and jam to the Lithium Age beat, you crazy cats and kittens.

Movie of the year: Sky Captain and the World of Tomorrow
This was a very close call, actually; I was going to give it to Spider-Man 2, but... well, I really loved that movie too, and it was very much neo-silver-age-y, but I'm giving this to the Captain anyway. In case you missed it, it was a little film with Jude Law (Sexiest Man Alive, or so says some magazine or whatever) and Gwyneth Paltrow (who likes fruit so much she named her kid after one), with quick appearances by Angelina Jolie and Sir Laurence Olivier, who, yes, has been dead for years. It's got giant robots, dogfights in the sky and underwater, sci-fi kung-fu, and everything else you can think of, except, unfortunately, monkeys. The reason I've given it top honors is because it was one of the two movies I actually saw in the theater this year, and because it was just flipping great. The whole thing, sans most of the actors, was done with CGI, yet it retains a brilliant 30's/40's sepia-toned joycore pulpy movie serial feel. It was, in fact, neo-golden-age, and it pulled it off excellently. Sure, it's cheesy and a bit popcorn, but baby, it's great that way. And it's also chock full of old movie references. The DVD comes out sometime this month (January, in case you've been asleep), I'm thinking the 25th or so... Check it out.

Comic Book of the year: Seaguy
You've probably heard me prattle on about this three-issue mini-series from DC's Vertigo imprint that came out over the summer, by Grant Morrison and Cameron Stewart. I'll just skip all the formalities and tell you that those two gents win Best Writer and Best Artist, respectively, and that Seaguy #1 ties with We3 #1 for Best Single Issue of the year. Seaguy was a story about a world that doesn't need heroes anymore... but Seaguy needs to prove the world wrong, but that world, run by an all-seeing corporation called Mickey Eye, doesn't want that to happen. It's a wild, wacky, surreal and fugue-like comic, and it's very good. The trade paperback collection should be out this month (once again, it's January, dammit!) so you should all go buy that so we can get the sequel.

TV Show of the year: Angel
You all saw this coming, too. Sure, Angel was cancelled this year by those WB gits, but it had never been better. The final run, what with the puppets and the regular cast members dying and the ancient demon goddesses and all of the fascinating characters, plus the almost-perfect finale made it the show's best season. It's out on DVD in February. Buy it, damn you!

Album of the year: Has Been
Yes. This *is* William Shatner's album I'm talking about. I know hardly anything about music, and I wasn't going to add this, but hey, Shatner's getting Best Actor honors too, here, kiddies, mostly for the excellent Boston Legal. But this album of his is mostly spoken word, and ranges from hilarious (like the title track) to sombre and poignant (like the track about his late wife). And you should never ever ever pass up the chance to hear a Shatner rendition of a classic Pulp song.

Video Game of the year: Halo 2
What did you expect? Even mildly disappointing as it was, it was still very good. Only on Xbox.

Anyway, let's just wrap this up...
Best Actress: Amy Acker (The characters of Fred and Illyria on Angel)
Best Director: Sam Raimi (Spider-Man 2)
Best Politician: Barack Obama
Website of the year: Barbelith (link over in the sidebar thingie)

That's all for now, as my mind's starting to draw some blanks. I'd list stuff like "Best Novel" and "Best Screenplay/Teleplay" but I can't even remember a single book I read, and I'd probably end up repeating myself with the script stuff. True, I missed a lot of good movies this year, and, well, I would do a "Worst of" list, but I blocked most of the crap from my memory.
Until next time, I'm Bill Reed! Stay cynical, San Diego... and San Demas... and all the Sans and Sans-Sans.

Poly-verbal comics review revue!

Haven't done one of these in a while. Of course, I've hardly done anything on here in a while, I suppose... Anyway, here is the space where I talk about some of me latest purchases at the ol' comic book emporium. Naturally my imaginary audience will want to read this. Any of you that are part of my real audience probably aren't very interested. Well, says I, too damn bad. Now, let's do this...erm... alphabetically!

Astonishing X-Men #6: Joss Whedon (Buffy? Angel? Firefly?) and John Cassaday (Planetary, Captain America) finish up their first arc here. My opinion of this comic changes with every issue. The first one was poor, the second and third were amazing, the fourth was alright, the fifth was a little better, and this one is a mix of all of those. It starts off great, with some fun exposition scenes, until that's interrupted with an out-of-nowhere bit that derails the plot. Then there's some stupid exposition (and Joss trying to shoehorn a 'prophecy' into a sci-fi book) followed by a rapid-fire ending which seems to go way too quickly but has a nice moment tucked into it. It wraps up too neatly, but there's some good character stuff at the end, and then a cliched cliffhanger.
As for how I feel about the return of Colossus from the dead, I dunno. Comics are riddled with pointless resurrections, and frankly I've never had any interest in this character. But Joss is the master of bringing characters back from the dead, and aside from the complete implausibility of this, the emotions ring true. We'll see where the book goes. I'll buy to #12, when Joss and John are apparently exiting the book. If they leave then, so will I... and if they stay, I'll think about it.
Anyway, I'll be nice and give this issue a 7/10. The art was pretty. And, hey, there was a letters page!

Fantastic Four #520: So now Johnny Storm, the former Human Torch, has the Invisible Woman's powers, and vice versa. Oh, and Johnny's the herald of Galactus, the gigantic alien being who eats planets. So it's a nice set-up, and all, but I think it would've been better just to have Sue be the herald. Anyway, this is the best issue since #513, and that's because of some excellent character moments in the two flashbacks that occur here. This, however, doesn't mean that there aren't lame bits. I'm reeeally tired of this book being stuffed to the gills with characters from other planets who still speak freakin' English. I just can't suspend my disbelief with that anymore... I can take an explanation, sure. Throw in a babelfish or something! Maybe Johnny's cosmic powers translate for him, now (which doesn't explain Zius and crew from the last few issues, though). Whatever. This issue's also got some goofy high-tech and a surprise guest star that probably no one expected to see again. And it ends a bit abruptly. Still, there's some really good bits, as well. I was planning to drop this title, and now it looks like I'll have to, as Waid and 'Ringo are leaving the book, anyway. So I'll ride out the arc and bid adieu to the book. 6.5/10

Gotham Central #25: This marks Michael Lark's final issue on this book as artist, as he's moving to Marvel. It's a damn shame, as the guy defined the style for this book, and I'm not sure if anyone can replace him on a regular basis. I guess we'll find out sometime in the early 30's when the new guy comes on. Anyway, it's also a shame, because the art seemed rushed and sloppy in this issue as compared to previous ones, but it still fits the mood. In this episode, scripted by Greg Rucka, the Commissioner of Gotham City (not Gordon, anymore, but the new guy, Akins), due to some Bat-crossover I never read, has severed the GCPD's ties with Batman, and removes the Bat-signal (which gets all smashed up). We see the cops' reactions to this, the mayor's reaction, and Batman's. All good stuff, and this book deserves all the awards it's been winning. I only wish more people were reading it, is all. 7.5/10.

Human Target #16: It's the end of the "Christopher Chance impersonates the supposed new messiah" arc, and, in the Peter Milligan tradition, new plot points pop up, some characters are shoved to the background, and everything's resolved with painful death. There's so much tragedy in this issue that one gets tired of it. Throw in some art inconsistencies (not that the art isn't still great-- Cliff Chiang is a wonder, and perfect for this book) and it's the weakest one in a few months. The first two parts were better. This comic, however, remains one of my absolute favorites, and it desperately needs sales. This issue gets a 6.5/10. Future issues bring back some neat old characters and also include guest art from Cameron Stewart, of Seaguy fame. Buy it, damn you.

JLA: Classified #1: Grant Morrison teams up with Ed McGuinness for the first three issues of this new Justice League anthology series. One would naturally assume that the Justice League would appear in the first issue of their new series, but they do not; only Batman shows up in this one. The real stars of this issue are the Ultramarines, the "nu-edgy kewl" super-heroes who spout cool one-liners and kick ass and take names... that is, until they start getting asses kicked, at which point one of them calls in Batman. Then the book gets really good.
At first, I didn't really care for this issue, and I thought it wasn't up to Grant's usual snuff. Rereading it, however, and reading the Barbelith commentary, gave me a renewed appreciation of the issue. It seems like it lacks substance, but one finds here is a delicious pop comic dripping with new and weird ideas: jet apes, Gorilla Grodd, infant universes, cosmic keyboards, floating cities, sci-fi closets, flying saucers, secret Pluto bases, and nuclear-sumo-engines-of-destruction-that-speak-in-haiku, just to name a few. Throw in hilarious kitsch like the Batphone and you've got yourself one helluva joycore book. The dialogue is also excellent in that regard, especially Batman's: "No, I'm Goldfish Man. Can't you tell?"
The art is slick and wonderful, with some absolute brilliant page designs and panel formations. The writing is equally as fabulous-- this is where comics are heading, and I'm happy for quite a bit of that. This also reads like it's a prelude to Grant's upcoming Seven Soldiers event next year, which I'll also be getting. The guy's a maniacal bastard, and a genius. 8/10.

We3 #2: This here's the other Grant Morrison comic I picked up, and it packs all the energy of an atomic bomb. It's full of ultra-violence and explosions and stuff, but what it really is is a story of three lonely and confused animals looking for their place in the world, and only finding tragedy. Basically, our dog, cat, and bunny, who are also cyborg killing machines, fight back against the army and We2. Until a tragic fate befalls one of them, that is.
This issue packs plenty of emotion, but the real star of the show is the artwork. This is easily the best art I've ever seen in a comic book. It's incredibly dense yet flows perfectly, each panel trapped in time but portraying a sense of movement. The panel layouts are incredible, with quite a few things I've never seen before. Never have I seen violence so brutal and terrible yet so utterly beautiful to behold. Frank Quitely is a master.
There's one more issue of this, and it comes out in January. I seriously cannot wait. If you've ever said "Why can't someone take The Incredible Journey and add cyborg death machines?" then this comic is for you. It's got stunning artwork, brilliant writing, and tugs at the heartstrings just moments after it's shocking you with brutal violence. This comic is literally redefining the medium. My only question is, is anyone listening? Easily one of the best comics of the year. 9/10.

That's it for this installment. Join us next month for another Review Revue, won't you?

Role models are for brainless mooks, and here's why!

There was once a time when a young lad or lassie would aspire to great heights. "I want to be just like Jackie Kennedy," said the lassies (and a few of the more flamboyant lads). Alas, the time has come to put away this foolish practice of "role models," and I will tell you why.
I don't have any role models. Surely, I have influences (Grant Morrison, Joss Whedon, Douglas Adams, Sam Raimi, Bruce Campbell, the Barenaked Ladies) but no person I aspire to be like, because, frankly, I don't want to be just like someone else, I want to be just like me, and the best me I can be. I don't want to assume someone else's role, I want to fill my role.
When our society prized itself on conformity, well, we had role models. But conformity is for idiots and Republicans (badum-bum!) and we don't need that crap anymore. Everyone should prize themselves on individuality.
For God's sake, don't be like me. Be like yourself.

Cutting a swath of glimmering gleam

Take this, Imaginary Readership!
The world doesn't make as much sense as it does on the tee-vee. You can hope and pray that all your problems will resolve themselves in comic fashion within thirty to sixty minutes (if you count commercials), but the truth is, they just don't... unless you're very lucky.
Ahh, to be four again. No worries. No responsibilities. No languishing depression or obsessive compulsion or deranged paranoia or hopelessly doomed romance. Just a limitless imagination, the undying urge to create, and the Godzilla animated series, every day on channel 83. Life goes on, though, and when you come to be a certain age, you realize one terrible fact: Godzooky can't solve all of your problems anymore. And it's here that we pick up, in a life filled with languishing depression, obsessive compulsion, deranged paranoia, and hopelessly doomed romance.
Love is literally the scariest thing in the world. And I imagine that, if it doesn't scare the crap out of you, and nearly give you a heart attack, well, it's probably not worth it. But it's crossing that threshold that's the hardest thing to do... Lord knows how many times I've completely ucked it all fup. And the truth is... maybe somewhere I wanted to. I'm frightened, you see, frightened to death of... of...
It's incredibly hard for me to write about this, you know. I hate discussing my feelings, and I can rarely manage to put them into words... especially if there's an audience. You out there are my imaginary audience, and as unreal as you may be, you're still listening. The walls have ears. Or the corn has ears. One of those.
This story starts where all stories start: It starts with a girl. Now, this wasn't just any girl. This was the filet mignon of girls. So beautiful she could melt your heart, and your eyes, from thirty paces. Which is just what happened. And so I fell, and at first, it was just a minor crush, and that was satisfying enough. But I was unfulfilled, and wanted desperately to pursue it. This was where the fear came in; I was way out of my league, here, and desperately, maddeningly afraid of rejection... like I am in most things. Which is why I seemed perfectly calm to simply sit there and shut up, and step to the side if necessary... which I did, in fact, a few times. I was depressed, majorly, and I retreated... and her discovering how I felt didn't help matters, and that's not mentioning how much I made a complete and foolish ass out of myself numerous times during the course of these shenanigans. I really have no idea how to handle relationships with people, and I completely screwed everything up. And yet I still couldn't shake my feelings.
Cut to the present: she's seeing somebody and I'm still a lonely and depressed weasel. I am, quite possibly, over this whole thing. Or perhaps I'm just trying to convince myself of such; I feel that I want to be, as I know it's an entirely pointless endeavor. And yet... it still hurts a little every time I see her. And I still feel regret. But I'm working to develop a new infatuation. But are they real feelings or just an excuse to get away from things? Even I don't know.
But what I have done is possibly screwed stuff up more. Just a small , supposedly witty but sappy note scrawled down relatively quickly... a chance to sum up the world. But there are no magic words, and I'm afraid I chose my words incorrectly. I'm afraid, now, that it says "Hey! I'm obsessed with you!" when what I really wanted to say was... "Listen. I was utterly in love with you, and I still think you're a charming and beautiful young woman who will actually have a fulfilling and enjoyable life. And I invite you to. And hey, one day, fifty years from now, if I turn the corner in Tibet and see you standing there, I won't even be surprised. I still care about you, yes, and that's why I want to see you have the greatest life possible. And dammit, one day, I expect an invitation to your wedding... and I'll do my best to forever hold my peace. I'll be waiting... see you around." Actually, there's probably more to that, but I can't remember it right now... and that seems good enough.
Not all of us can press a button and have a gigantic lizard come to our rescue. And hey... maybe some of us don't need it.
I'm out.

The Land of "Where-You-Get-Your-Ideas."

Y'know, as a writer, I find that people always ask me the same question over and over: "Where do you get your ideas?" Well, alright, no one's ever asked me that, but I expect them to one day, dammit, and I will tell them the same thing I tell everyone: "I get them from the same place you get your ideas... you know, that tiny little leprechaun that lives in your ear canal and whispers sweet somethings to you when you least expect it! Now, I'd filed to get a new leprechaun... the one responsible for stuff like the light bulb, the spork, Abbey Road, and Bob Dole, but instead I'm saddled with the one that came up with the Macarena, Donald Trump's Hairstyle, and that abomination known only as 'tofurkey'..."
But c'mon, everyone has ideas. Just because I label myself as a writer doesn't mean my ideas are more important than yours (even though we all know they are) or more pronounced, or bigger, or anything... I mean, when you think to feed the fish so they don't turn upside down and float about for a week until your neighbor's cat manages to sneak in at night and eat them, well, that's an idea, the same as Grant Morrison's idea to update the Scissorman from a fairy tale as a cadre of dark science-fantasy characters in Doom Patrol (more on that someday, probably).
Ideas come, of course, when you least expect them to, so you should try to expect the unexpected at all times. The slightest idea from an English lecture, a nuance from a line of dialogue, random words being thrown together on the wall like they were spaghetti... any of those can produce a new and intriguing idea in my head. No one's quite sure how the brain works. At least, I'm not sure how it works, and no one's told me, so therefore I deduce that no one knows. It's an amazing yet terrible (in the scary Biblical sense) device, isn't it? Each of us with a portal to the fifth dimension just lounging about in our skulls. Makes you wonder...
Now if you'll excuse me, there's something gnawing on my eardrum, and I'm fairly certain my hair will never be the same again.

I shall leave you with the thought of the day:
"Boogers are like pearls, except in your nose."

Wearing the electric pants of the future!

It has come to my attention that I haven't updated this in a short while, but that is because:
a.) I'm a lazy git.
b.) I forgot.
c.) No one reads the damned thing anyway.

Yet, however, I shall persevere, simply to spite the universe.
Frankly, I've got nothing to talk about. Certainly my imaginary audience doesn't give a damn about comics, unless, that is, they do, yet they don't tell me, because, after all, they're imaginary, and I certainly enjoy commas. I could talk about life, and whatnot, but I'm a very guarded person who doesn't talk about how I feel because then I get all choked up and have to listen to depressing music and watch Buffy DVDs before I resume my default cynical and sardonic persona. Besides, there's the off chance that my audience isn't imaginary and people I know are reading this and my horrible secret that I'm really the illegitimate son of Bigfoot and Prince Charles will come to light.

However, I've come to talk to you about something all near and dear to our hearts, and that's television. I hate TV. It sucks. Joss Whedon has left the medium, and I went with him, only to come crawling back because I am so indescribably bored. And I've been watching several things recently, which amazes me, as it's the most TV I've watched in years, and it's nearly all on Sunday nights, which is fine with me.
The best new show this year is quite clearly Boston Legal, for three reasons: Shatner, Shatner, Shatner. Okay, that's a lie, Shatner's just one reason three times, and the other two are Spader and David E. Kelley. The dialogue is sharp, the acting is sharper, and the show is just damn hilarious, but can do an about-face and become a drama on a dime, just like our favorite TV shows, Buffy and MASH. I love genre-benders.
I've also been watching Desperate Housewives, first out of morbid curiousity and now out of some kind of addiction. I'm not quite sure, but I just want to know where the damn plot is going.
Also on the list is the Simpsons (one episode's out so far, and, well, it sucked so much more than the last five years, which have really sucked), which I keep meaning to stop watching, and Smallville, which is utter trash, but like watching a train wreck, in that I can't turn away.
In fact, there's only one other decent show, unless I'm forgetting something, which I probably am, and that's Arrested Development, which is simply hilarious.

That was one helluva twelve-minute power writing session, and I'm almost sad that it's over. Farewell, my imaginary audience; I bid you adieu, adieu, adieu, and thank you, no, thank you, yes yes, no no, indeed, quite so!

Some blogs are bigger than others

Well, crikey, kids, no one reads this damn thing. And if they do, they don't tell me, which is twice as worse and will surely get you a nice caning by a thick-wristed nun, or thereabouts.

Now, several of my other fictional split personalities, or perhaps my imaginary friends, have asked me what a 'pop comic' necessarily is. Well, then, says I, what is a pop song? Take that and cross out song and scribble 'comic' on the end, and there you go. But as for an example...

Go Here and Here and Here. Deliciously smart pop comics.

As to what the subject matter is, well, Jenny Everywhere is an open source character, meaning nobody owns the copyright, so anyone is free to use her. Hence, there's lots of comics around starring the character in all sorts of situations, as she adapts to all genres. So there's everything from action stories to Tijuana Bibles about her. I've provided you here with a few by a really good creative team.

One of these days, I'll have to script a little Jenny story. But it'd be best to start with an idea, first. Hmm...

Oh. And it comes to my attention that Todaybor Day is Labor Day. Boy howdy.