BATMAN: BEYOND THE WHITE KNIGHT #8 - Review

 

Uggh, I’ve been holding off on reading this one since it’s the final White Knight book. I mean, it is DC so they’ll probably bring it back at some point. One underachieving exec at an Editor’s meeting years from now will say ‘Hey, why don’t we do another White Knight story’ and everyone will go bananas for the idea, call the meeting over and jump in piles of cocaine while underage hookers and Drag performers are shipped in from Echo Park for entertainment. But that might not happen until, oh I dunno, December. But for now we have to assume this is the last one for a while and my goodness what a majestic run this has been.

 

Granted, nothing has been as great as that first series but all the subsequent runs have been good enough to stay atop all the other Batman offerings in that timeframe. Make no mistake, this has been the crown jewel of the Batman universe since it’s inception; nothing has come close. So, once I close the cover of this issue and toss it on my ‘yeah I read that pile’ I won’t have any active Bat Books on my pull and I don’t see anything coming down the pike either to change that. Of course DC could release 25 new Bat Titles next week, so ya never know with Bats.

 

I do feel that they missed the boat with this series a bit by not making it into a Prestige Large Sized format. What, Sean Murphy ain’t prestigious enough for you DC? Dude has got accolades! His art is also extremely detail oriented so a larger size would really bring his world to life. I say that because the opening offensive by the Bat Team in this issue gets kinda lost with all the small details in the panels. Honestly, it was a bit confusing to follow what was going on. I knew that shit was being blown up and that the Batmobile turned from speedboat into a car which was cool.

 

I’m waiting for the moment when Batman makes an appearance somehow in the Chicken Devils series where his Batmobile turns into a Bat Food Truck. Waddya think Bats would sell from his Bat Truck? Batties Jamaican Patties? Swing BATter BATter (pancake/crepe truck)? Bats Batty Burgers? You know if campy 1966 Adam West Batman was still doing it to death he’d roll up in a Bat Food Truck for realz.

 

So the opening was a bit all over the place for me. Also, this Gan chick, who I’m not a fan of, is now all of a sudden a former Special Ops Bad Ass from Afghanistan and is shooting arrows like Erroll Flynn in tights? Wasn’t she like a bumbling nitwit when she was being trained by the Red Hood in the mini series of this Universe? I could be wrong but I remember her as being shy and not very agile. The whole Gan Robin thing irks me, not sure why, just feels pushed in by a frothing at the mouth editor to get a diversity point rather than an organic development of the story.

 

What has set Murphy’s Batverse apart from all of the others is the emotional core that he’s found with the relationships of all of his characters. He’s infused love, regret, envy and deep flaws within this cast which has taken us as readers on a real rollercoaster ride. The one thing you learn first about screenwriting or writing of any kind is that ‘Story’ is all about your characters. If you just have a plot and two dimensional mannequins nobody’s gonna give a shit. I mean, they may for a second but then they’ll forget everything about your plot except the explosions and shocks. This is exactly how the dating scene in LA goes, you don’t remember names or job titles just property damage, ego damage and social media ruin; it’s fun out here!

 

Eventually the Bat Team gets their act together, the attack on the Bad Guys is moving along and then we get this moment: Bats, who has been running around without his mask since getting out of jail, puts his cowl back on:

 

 

I mean, cmon, Murph just gets it. If you’re a Bat Fan and you didn’t think or emit some sort of ‘Fuck Yeah’ when you saw this then you’re not a Bat Fan you’re a depressed comic geek and you need to get outside and get some sun, maybe take a break from those Ramen packets for a week or two.

 

As the pages winded down and Bats and the unfrikkinbelievable holographic Jack Napier/Joker character worked their way to their inevitable conclusion I began to feel appreciative and nostalgic for how great this run has been and how there’s nothing like sitting down to a great Bat Story…until…I read the last page…and

 

NO

 

FUKCIN

 

WAY

 

You’re kidding me. You’re continuing the White Knight story??? WHAT? With who? WHAT? Mirka Andolfo is doing a Joker Daughter/Daddy story??? Mirka Andolfo of ‘Unnatural’ fame? The chick who draws Pig Porn??? I mean she’s really good but, my goodness, her anthropomorphic books are seriously naughty. Like, I had to stop myself and think for a second as I bought a variant cover from her Unnatural Series which was a cover of her main pig character on the cover half nekkid with her big pig tits and pig ass hanging out.

 

 

 

‘Umm is this Kosher?’ I could feel Rabbi Shapiro from my Bar Mitzvah days looking over my shoulder, glaring at me with his scraggly nose and beady eyes, sorry Rebbe, I’d never date Pig Babe but, I mean, I might like her on a dating app but no way she’d like me back. I’d need a bunch of tats, a drug habit and a complete lack of empathy; probably a few guns in my night stand too.

 

Ha, and now they got Murph taking on Supes and Double Dub Babe in a Whitey Knighty Knight way as well??? And JLA? Wow. They couldn’t even wait a few months. I bet Murphy was picking up his last check from DC and they called him into their Bigwig Editor’s meeting. He walked in and they all had these big grins on their faces. Unbeknownst to Murph all the editors were scratching each other’s eyes out before he walked in because all the Bat Books they currently had on the stands sucked, and the crown jewel of their Alt Uni was about to walk and start his Zorro Book.

 

DC: Seanie Love, have a seat.

 

Murph: Hey guys, yeah, I gotta go, Zorro beckons. Thanks for the opportunity, had a blast.

 

Murphy turns to go

 

DC: Superman and Wonder Woman! Anything you want! Draw Plastic Man! Mr Mxyzptlk! They’re all yours! White Knight them all!

 

Murph: Wait, what? You want me –

 

DC: (bawling on their knees) Please don’t go, please, we – we’re nothing, we –

 

Murph: But I can’t right now, I have a Zorro -

 

DC: It’s okay we got Mirka doing the next one, Joker’s Daughter and Jack –

 

Murph: The Naughty Pig Chick? Is drawing Joker?

 

DC: Her contract clearly stipulates no Pig Tits, we swear.

 

Murph: Okay. Hmm. Chippy Z’s Batman run sucks saggy donkey scrotum. Say it.

 

DC: What?

 

Murph: Chippy Z’s Batman run sucks saggy donkey scrotum. Say it.

 

DC: Zdarsky? Well, the numbers are down but he’s doing a swell –

 

Murph: Chippy Z’s Batman run sucks saggy donkey scrotum. Say it or I walk.

 

DC: -

 

The editors huddle over the pile of coke in the middle of their boardroom table, they snort and bicker for several moments.

 

DC: Chippy Z’s Batman run sucks saggy donkey scrotum.

 

Murph: Louder.

 

DC: Chippy Z’s Batman run sucks saggy donkey scrotum.

 

Murph: Wonder Woman here I come. No pun intended.

 

The DC Editors erupt in jubilant cheers as they all swiftly make a conference call to their fave escort service in Echo Park

 

DC: WE WANT ALL DEM VEGAN TAT HOES! Murph’s doing Supe & Dub!

 

Well, I guess I’m happy. I mean, that White Knight JLA Verse is going to be amazing. I guess I feel a little cheated. It’s like it’s the last day of Jew kid summer camp and you’re weepy and hugging all your tiny Jew friends that you’ll probably never see again and all of sudden the Camp Director goes ‘Psych! We’re adding another month! Schools across the country aren’t starting until October this year!’ It’s cool, but weird, ya know.

 

Whatever happens, let’s just be clear, this was a genius alt Bat Verse and if he can do to JLA what he did to Bats we may need him to take over DC…and yes Chippy Z’s Bat run does suck on animal genitalia. Hey Andolfo, don’t get any ideas mmkay?

 

Rating: 9.2

Verdict: 60% chance a naughty pig babe makes it into Mirka’s run.

 

 

 

 

ALL NIGHT & EVERY DAY - Review

 

And the winner of the award for Sexiest Cover of the past several years goes to…this cover! Mwwrawarrr. Yet like most sexy covers in La La Land once you peel it open you realize it’s a whole different ballgame:

 

Mmm, who’s that scintillating brunette in the black dress?

 

Several hours later you’re on the phone with your bestie:

 

‘Dude, this Daddy Issue Chick won’t leave my house and she’s drinking all my expensive almond milk!’

 

What I thought was going to be a sizzling steamy book of smooching and romance turned out to be some type of horror thingamajig. WTF? This is a horror book??? All Night. Every Day??? That’s like putting two Rabbis on a cover and then you open it up and it’s a story about Piglet’s new adventures. It’s like putting the Kardashians on the cover and opening it up to find a discourse on quantum mechanics. It’s like putting a Marvel Character on the cover and then you open it up and find out it’s a story that’s actually engaging. We have a serious disconnect here people!

 

If you saw this title on an R&B Music Chart wouldn’t you assume it’s about knocking dem boots (let’s bring that saying back mmkay). Oy, Aftershock, I’m shocked! Real quick, is it me or do the liquor bottles on the cover look as big as this dude’s leg. Like, either the perspective is out of whack or the party that they’re at has 3 gallon beer bottles.  

 

Sooo this comic is not about the stamina you’ll need between the sheets with a Red Head? Where’s Neil Gaiman? He thinks all Redheads are slutty nymphos. Maybe he bankrolled this project and insisted on the slutty redhead cover.

 

Shock: But it’s a horror book Neil.

 

Neil: But she’s a redhead. She’s randy, she’s ready to go. People need to be reminded.

 

Shock: It’s supposed to be a dangerous party where –

 

Neil: All Redheads know where the 4 foot Bottles of Cognac are. You know how dangerous a 4 foot bottle of Cognac is? She’s a randy naughty bird who’s deeply horrifying. Look at her!

 

 

Aftershock is calling it their ‘Aftershock One Shock’; since it’s a one-shot. Get it? Shot. Shock. Doy doy doy doy. Give the marketing guy a handy in the men’s room for his stroke of genius. Get it? Handy. Stroke of Genius? Doy Doy Doy. I can work at Aftershock’s marketing department. Looks like these guys have an office in Sherman Oaks. Maybe their new horror line is being inspired by the psycho homeless apocalypse that is now spilling over into Sherman Oaks from Studio City. Before you know it it’s going to be a human fecal museum on Ventura Blvd. Sherman Oaks was like the last stop in the valley on the way to ‘Dude it’s way too fucking hot to live here’ now it’s on it’s way to being Downtown LA North.

 

So the premise of this book is that the Randy Redhead had her boyfriend/fiancé skip out on her wedding; like he didn’t show up and disappeared. She hasn’t seen him since. R.R and her pretentious unlikable fuckwit friends decide to go to a party. The party turns out to be some Twilight Zone alternate dimension thing where people have been partying here for decades and haven’t been able to leave. You mean like, Hotel California? This is your horror book? Dude. Almost all the parties in LA feel like people have been partying at it for decades, especially the ones in the fancy houses. I literally get lost in Mansion parties or at houses in the Hills for hours. Every room is just another room of attractive uninterested plastic people that make you feel like you need to go to the gym or to a sweat lodge to purge the toxins that you inhaled from their exhales.

 

Anyway, so Red finds her dude, they bang near a bunch of skyscrapers that look like liquor bottles. They then decide to escape and every room they end up in is creepier and more debaucherous than the next one. They eventually end up in a room with Nazis! 

 

 

Well, that’s where they go wrong here. You may find deviant sick perverted dimwits in every party in La La Land but you won’t find Nazis. Nazis are never invited to fancy parties. You might find a few Nazis in a Van Nuys or Encino party, maybe one or two will be lurking in a Glendale party but in general they’re too busy torturing local politicians to be bothered with hitting on all the Michaelas and Amandas of the world.

Finally the couple ends up in a room where there’s some old guy with antlers on his head and a bunch of half naked muscular dudes with Cow Skulls on their heads. Things don’t end well for the wedding skipping boyfriend. 

 

This wacko with the antlers is like the Grand Architect of the party that never ends. Dude. There's like a dozen old wackos with antlers on their heads wandering around Mann's Chinese Theater and Venice Beach right now as I type this. It's a thing. I see about 10-20 posts on Next Door a week about some wacko Antler Guy stealing mail, wandering around naked in backyards, pooping on luxury vehicles; it's a thing.

So that’s your Horror? Dude who gets cold feet ends up in an endless party where he gets tortured by men with cow skulls on their heads? Really? What about women who skip out on weddings? My ex-fiance gave me back my engagement ring, twice! So should she end up at one of these places? I would hope not. You know what would be truly terrifying, especially here in LA? If your curse was that every time you showed up to a party everyone left. How about that? That would be waaaay worse. 

 

You want to curse me and my not responding to you as a match on my dating app after I scrutinized your Insta page and realized you had way too many tats and pictures of you in face diapers for my liking? The most horrifying curse for me would be having to always wait three lights for only two cars in front of me to take a left turn in the left turn lane. How about that AfterShockaLocka? Let’s call it ‘All Left Lanes. Every Yellow Light’ Put that out from your Poop Castle in Shoaks. That story will send half the people in LA to a therapy session in minutes!

 

Ray Fawkes, the Writer, said in an interview that this isn’t just a comic, “It’s an Escape Manual”. An escape from what Ray? An LA Party? If you wanna escape an LA Party all you have to do is say ‘I’m looking for representation’ you’ll find your way outside on the curb quicker than you can say ‘Thirsty’.

 

I appreciate the fact that the creators of this book were trying to incorporate a complicated love relationship gone bad into a vortex of an endless party disaster. It’s not a wholly bad idea it’s just that I didn’t give two shites about any of these characters. So the dude is an asshole but is the chick that much better? Like why does she get out alive and he doesn’t? Maybe he had a good reason to not marry this girl?

 

Neil: Well of course he had a reason! She’s a randy Redhead! She’s an insufferable insatiable ninny who will haunt your afterlife! MiracleMan won’t even bang a RedHead, he knows better!

 

Okay Neil, we get it. No more One Shockadelicas for me. You want to shock the world Aftershock? Walk outside of your offices on Ventura Blvd and start filming. Don’t stop until you’ve walked all the way into Studio City and then lift up both of your shoes to see how much poop you’ve picked up. Now that will shock the world.

 

Rating: 6.1

Verdict: Knockin’ Dem Boots is still a sexy phrase

RED ZONE #1 - Review

 

I’ve been flailing about the comic book solicitations like a thirsty dater who just paid for a premium membership in a second rate dating app; I’m just wanting something, anything to be worth my time. I’m looking at you OkCupid. Yeesh, what a disaster that site is. You’re just scrolling through trolls and old maids until you find a couple of cuties that match but never respond. Just like any other app you either delete or decide that you’re going to take your dating life by the horns and upgrade your membership, woo hoo! You convince yourself, hey you gotta spend money to make money which means you gotta spend money to date honeys! That, my friends, is a maxim that one should neverrrr believe in.

 

See, once you upgrade now you’ve got skin in the game so you have to find dates to justify your investment. It doesn’t matter if it’s only 20 or 30 bux, who in their right mind would pay for something and not get anything??? Even a sociopathic degenerate gambler gets the thrill of that moment when they could win all their losses back. You don’t even get that on a derelict dating app, you get an hourglass where the sand is sifting through to the bottom at ten times the speed of normal. Eventually you will match and you will chat with someone who seems cool enough and after oodles and noodles of your time plying and prying this ‘ehhh, she’s okay, she seems cute’ kinda girl you’ll meet up with her only to wonder ‘Wait, when the hell were these pictures of her taken that she’s got on her profile ,1992???’. At that point you’ll look at the menu and pray to the Dating Gods that she does not choose the 36oz Egyptian tomb aged steak with duck confit and roe from a salmon that could play chess.

 

You know, single men and women ten to twenty years from now are going to look back on all those who did the dating app thing and they’re going to think of the dating app trend in the same way that we look at doctors who thought putting leeches on a sick person to suck out the bad blood was a good idea.

 

So, as my pull list dwindles and dwindles due to the considerable plop plop of drivel that the comic book industry seems to be mired in, I’m just sending likes to new offerings that I may not necessarily have sent in previous years as a means to and end of hopefully finding a hidden gem. I’m not a big fan of Cullen Bunn. His name sounds like a name that the French were going to give to a pastry until they decided not to:

 

‘Let’s call this thees Le Cullen Bunn’

 

‘Mais non, c’est ordinaire. We shall call eet, Le Croissant!’

 

‘Ahhh, Le Croissant, oui! C’est magnifique!

 

And the Cullen Bunn was never to be heard of again until a descendant of this aborted pastry starting dropping middling horror series for brain addled comic book fans. Bad Bunny Bunn also had a run on Marvel’s recent ‘Conan the Barbarian’ catastrophe that rankles me to no end. I don’t get the fascination with this guy but hey, lots of people are fascinated by ordinary these days. SI saw that he was tasked to write this Indie Russian Spy type tale and I was intrigued. I’m always down for a good spy thingamajig and since I’m flailing for adds to my pulls I gave this a shot. Well, oy vey. Oy to the emm oh eff oh vey.

 

I’m going to take apart this story right now so if you want to read this comic don’t keep reading. In other words, spoiler alert although I would say these pages have already been spoiled. First, the art by Mike Deodato Jr. was fantastic, let’s just get that out of the way. Mike, you’re amazing, per usual. Okay, so some old Russian Teacher Dude at a College is approached by some young blonde Army Dude who swiftly convinces him to join their ‘extraction team’ to get his former Russian flame babe out of Russia on an extraction mission. He meets the team and they’re all straight out of a Call of Duty game. They go to Russia, all the special op bad ass dudes post up all around this restaurant where Teacher Dude’s Russian Babe is waiting at a table. They meet and she goes ‘Oh, you’re not just taking me you’re taking my hot daughter as well’. Hot daughter in a skimpy dress and six inch heels walks up like she’s meeting her new sugar daddy, there’s zero tension or stakes for what supposedly is a dangerous mission.

 

All of a sudden all hell breaks loose! The Russians! The Evil Russians! They blow everything up! Oh those dastardly Russians! Rat a Tat Tat Tat! Oh no! They killed the Call of Doody Dudes! All of them! In like one fell swoop, well, that was easy. Old Momma Russia Flame pulls out a Gat (I wish people would keep using this slang term that was popularized by Old School Hip Hoppers back in the day, it’s my fave) she pulls out the Jammy (I love that one too, c’mon, a Jammy??? Wuttttt!) pulls out the Jammy and lets it fly. Now scruffy old Rusky Teach and his Hot Babe in Heels are on the run.

 

Yeesh, ya think Cruller Bunns watched Indiana Jones before writing this. Should we change the title of this to Indiana Jonesanovich and the Babushka? Are you frikkin kidding me with this Honey Buns??? So let me get this straight. You got a special ops bad ass group of Army dudes who have to extract some old Russian chick. Rather than contacting her themselves and meeting her in a, oh I dunno, a garage, an apartment, a Dunkin Donutsky, they drag some old dude with them ‘cause she requests it and they meet in a nice restaurant. They couldn’t meet in a garage, apartment or at a Dunkin Donutsky and get a Cruller Bunn together??? Not only that, her hot daughter wants out too, so she dresses like she’s auditioning for Moscow’s Housewives or The Bachelorusky for her extraction. Let me guess, while she was deciding which outfit showed her tits off better she was on TikTok telling the CCP and her millions of fans about her Hawt X-Tract.

 

Look here Pullen Ho Doughnuts, if you wanted a half naked chick running around Russia with an old Lolita Express Teacher and gun just cut to the chase and have them running from the restaurant; lose all the exposition. Clearly that was your pitch: Russian Club Chick from the 90s and Indiana Jonesanovich. Gee, lemme guess, Indianov is great with guns and has a few tricks up his sleeves and down his pants and he makes it out alive while killing all the evil Russians, eff you dude and your lame plot.

 

Lemme guess, you and Axel Axelrod Foley the EIC of AWA have the Ukrainian Flag in your profile pic and jerk off to Zelensky like he’s a Farrah Fawcett poster from 1977. Axel Foley in his little spiel at the end of the comic even goes so far to compare Putin to Drago from the Rocky IV movie. Oh fer goodness sake. Is that it, you watch the lametsream news and believe all the BS that spews from the pathological liars that call themselves newscasters and now you’re all ‘Russia is Evil and Sucks?’ I know that the war over there is waaaay more complicated and more nuanced than the pathetically reductive lens of  good vs evil. Anyone with a brain who understands history and who objectively considers the myriad of implications and levers that have caused this conflict understands how complex this situation is. I’m gonna go out on a limb here and say that Culler Bunn and Ahmed Foley don’t know jack about jack. So you can keep your canned plot and myopic simplistic world view off my golden pull list that only allows intelligent beautiful geniuses on it.

 

This comic is not in the Red Zone. It’s sitting on a tee at the 35 yard line and it should just be kicked off into the stands rather than into the endzone. Blecchh. What a waste. Man, all this talk of pastries has me hungry. I’m gonna go grab a Russian Bear Claw from the KGB-odega up the street.

 

Rating: 4.4

Verdict: Drop

PHANTOM ROAD #1 - Review

 

Hmm, well, okay, that was interesting… and quick! Seems like I got through the issue in less than 5 minutes. That’s all you need if you’re Jeff Lemire. That’s probably written on his ‘Comic Book Titan of the Industry’ laminated business card: Give me five minutes and I’ll sell you a 5-6 issue mini-series like I’m a Michelin Star Rated Taco Truck on the Santa Monica Pier.

 

I bet you Jeff Lemire just pops out comic book premises like he’s coming up with random wacky recipes on a Food Network Chef Competition Show. He could be sitting in traffic as the third car in the left lane waiting to make a left turn in LA Rush Hour traffic and he could come up with two alien abduction story lines, an Incan Murder Mystery set in an underground city and a tearjerker about a dog who can fly that finds his long lost owner on an island and then defeats the Chinese Communist Party with his owner by using their laser eyes…and still make the left turn even though he was third.

 

That’s when you know you’re a real driver and someone who doesn’t take shit in your life, when you’re third and you still insist on making that left. You can tell a lot about someone on how they take left turns. If a woman is third and takes a left turn and she’s third, you got a winner. If a woman is fourth and still takes a left turn get out of the car and run the moment you come to a complete stop. Also, if a woman is second and doesn’t take the light when it’s clear that she could have made it get out of the car right then and there and use the crosswalk to escape from her mind boggling life decisions that are waiting to haunt you and your blooming relationship of fire and brimstone.

 

Anyway, Jeff you’ve hooked me again you bastard! With something so simple and so easily laid out; it’s a master class in the simplicity of a plot device grabbing a reader’s attention. Yeah, anyone could have come up with this plot device, it’s not like he’s reinventing literature with it. But it’s the execution and the way it makes you furrow your brow and go ‘hmm, what the hell is that, that was weird, hmm’ as you think about it at random moments of your day.

 

Like you’ll be on a date and your eyes will wander and the babbling insecure actress in front of you with the three pounds of make-up that attempts to cover up her pockmarked skin will ask ‘Hey, where did you just go?’ If you’re interested in her you’ll say ‘Ah, your story of being robbed at the WeHo Whole Foods by a naked homeless person in the prepared foods aisle made me think of a time in my life when I felt helpless and violated’. If you’re not interested in her you’ll say ‘Yeah, this new Jeff Lemire book has me fucking hooked and spooked, like for realzy’.

 

I’m not even going to reveal the premise of the basic mechanics of the plot and the world he’s created here. All I will say is that there’s this thing, some object, in the middle of a highway that you’re going to spend your disposable income on in order to find out what it is. If you purchase this comic you’re going to be at the mercy of Jeffy M for as long as he wants to drain you of 4 bux a month. It’s not like you’ll be able to cancel halfway like you’re cancelling a Peacock TV subscription (my goodness I don’t remember signing up for $5 a month with them and my goodness they make it unbelievable hard to navigate to the page where you can cancel your phantom subscription), no, this book will automatically be added to your pull list as if AI had taken over your local comic book shop; which it probably has at this point.

 

Look, this isn’t a world breaker or a game changer of the industry type of comic. It’s a drop from a dude who’s on a roll unlike any other writer in the Comic Book Universe right now. So don’t even question why, just get it and let Jizzle LeMizzle do whatever the hell he wants to do with the part of your comic book brain until he’s had enough and the ideas that he came up with while waiting for ten minutes outside of his hot yoga class with his gaia yoga mat in hand  make it onto your pull list.

 

Rating: 7.9

Verdict: Pull

February '23 Reading Round Up

 

It's raining uhhhgain tonight in La La Land. Unbelievable. It says this is the last one for a while but my goodness it's been a muddy floody soak fest here. I saw a funny post by someone where it said something to the effect that he's paying SoCal rent prices for SoCal weather not Midwest winter weather, amen brotha, amen. It does make for cozy comic reading and this month was a lot of hit or miss. Here's a couple that won't be getting yanked by me anymore:

Once Upon at the End of the World has become a "Once Again I’m Dropping a Boom Book". My goodness this series turned to drivel with a quickness after such a promising first issue. I don’t think Jason Aaron has a grasp on what the tone of his story is: gruesome, cutesy, rugged, dark, violent, coming of age, terrifying, apocalyptic. Yeah, all these elements don’t really work well together, it’s a jumbo gumbo of no yumbo. Also, the love that is supposedly burgeoning between our two main characters seems placed in the wrong story. That and I just took in a few panels of rats devouring a kid and his dog which was followed up by these wackos in gas masks carrying some elderly chick in a veil in a palanquin who then skinned the puppy for its pelt. Yeah, I’m done. Also, the whole logistics of this pre pubescent weak teen carrying a back pack three times his height filled with scads of electronics and doo dads while casually walking through miles and miles of seared garbage earth rankles the very core of my ‘that shit is not feasible nor possible’ sensibility. Buh bye.

 

The third installment of Kroma was a sight to behold. Lorenzo De Felici drew the hell out of this issue and the color palettes are beautiful. The story also became more focused after it muddled through the second issue. One issue left in this mini-series (isn’t everything these days technically a mini series?) and I’m really looking forward to it. Old Dog by Declan Salvey has gotten…mnyeh. It looks astounding but the story is a little rag tag. It's basically just an old dad running around with his daughter killing people with no real threat to their lives. There’s an intel outfit called ‘The Black Circle’ which is whatever whatever. Next issue doesn’t come out until May so we’ll see where I’m at but right now I’m letting that Old Dog Beat drrrropppp!

 

Here's what I got into this past month:

 

It's Lonely at the Centre of the Earth (TP) 

Chicken Devils #2

Monstress #42

 

Saga #61 

Black Cloak #1

Parker Girls #3-4

 

Avengers: War Across Time #1 

Spy Superb #1

I only pulled eleven comics in February! That's my lowest pull since there were no comics at all back in April and May of 2020 and my lowest pull of an actual month since 2011; that's 12 years ago! March has a bunch of new #1s coming out including a Jeff Lemire offering and another Scott Snyder 3 issue drop which I hate to admit looks really good. I want to love more of you Comic Book Universe, let's get back on the horse and pop out the genius! Anyway, I've gotta do a bunch of stretches before I get in my rowboat to go to the gym. If I don't my shoulders get sore and I've got to whack at least a dozen homeless zombies on the way there which takes a lot of energy.

Happy Reading!

IT'S LONELY AT THE CENTRE OF THE EARTH - Review

 

As my pull list dwindles due to the continuous onslaught of less than palatable monthly offerings by the comic book industry these days I’ve been forced to expand my view into the trade market with the hopes that I can find suitable enough replacements for my sequential art and text bubbles fix. I’ve been grabbing those ‘Reckless’ books by Brubaker and Phillips which have predictably been fucking fantastic. If you haven’t checked out their ‘Reckless’ trade series yet get thee to thy LCS and grab them all with a quickness you ninnies. I still wish they’d be dropping monthlies rather than only dropping trades but I’ll take them anyway they give them. If Brubaker and Phillips started an old timey comic strip in a newspaper I’d inhale those too.

 

It’s an interesting debate, why not just purchase trades rather than monthlies? Well, trades are a full blown relationship while monthlies are like dating. I can take a monthly out for a spin or two and ghost them without fair warning. A monthly could make a great first impression and then fall off a cliff on their second go round to which you must assume the monthly has revealed its true colors and must be punished by the absence of your interest. A trade is like meeting someone at a wedding in a resort or on a cruise and then hooking up with them. You’re not really going to be able to avoid them should things turn psycho. Like if you wake up in the morning after a night bang and she’s naked on the floor in the middle of a pentagram drawn with Coppertone tanning lotion and she asks you to help her sacrifice the turkey bacon from your room service breakfast as an offering to Moloch, that’s pretty much your girl until you get on your flight back home; enjoy!

 

At any rate, I blindly grabbed this ‘Center of the Earth’ book due to its critical darling status to see what all the hubbub was about. Well, bottom line, it deserves all the hubbub and a little bit of hullabaloo with a dash of brouhaha. Zoe Thorogood is a revelation and this book may very well be her ‘Baby I’m a Star’ moment into the world of comicdom. Oddly enough, it’s not the kind of book you read as much as it is one that you take in. The descriptive calls it metanarrative which I’m not so sure is accurate. It’s more like a diary written by the id of the mind the angst of the heart and the wisdom of the soul which is quite extraordinary considering the fact that Zoe is not even a quarter of a century old.

 

This very well may be the graphic novel gold standard of what it feels like on the outside and inside to struggle with anxiety and depression through the lens of an evolving artist. The devices that she uses to articulate the various aspects of her personality are the true backbone of the book and as you get to know them you get to know her more. This evolving discovery allows the linear narrative to slowly melt away into this pastiche of awkward emotions and an incessant need to comprehend one’s own inner mechanisms. That may be the trap here, you’re looking for a story when what you should really be looking for is how the pages land on you on a deeper level. The fact that she’s already achieved this nuance at such an early stage of her career is an amazing feat.

 

I totally crush on broken artist babes, something about them, their vulnerability, their passion, their need to overcome despite their illogical approaches; it’s so deeply human and magical. I probably would end up in the friend zone with Zoe which would be totally fine with me; not like she frikkin’ cares but there’s a familiarity here that’s strangely comforting for me and perhaps for so many of us who have boldly taken up the path of being a creative being in this wacky world.

 

Being an artist is tough. Being a writer is tough. Being anything creative that forces you to find that elusive muted solitude to expand and mine oneself for a flow of art that seems to come from the prick of pin inside of you is as taxing and as rewarding as anything you could possibly imagine. I like to think of it as a ‘Selfless Selfishness’. You have to be maniacally obsessed with yourself while connecting to a wider consciousness at the same time. I get Zoe’s predicament. All I can say to her or to anybody who may be going through the throes of these anxious artistic developments is that if you can somehow find a way to detach yourself where you become the observer of your emotions and your process rather than the reaction of them, you’ll find your way home. Whether she knows it or not that’s what Zoe was doing with this book.

 

Zoe laments the terms ‘The Future of Comics’ and 'Relatable' that apparently made its way to her at a point in her career. I would say that she’s not necessarily the future of comics but rather a part of  the future of comics. As for relatable, I'd replace that with 'connective' as her art truly connected and resonated with many who have experienced similar hurdles in their lives. Her heroic work here is a triumph and while it’s certainly reasonable to assume that she may stumble along as she unravels more and more about herself and her creative process I think it’s safe to say that if she stays the course we’ll be looking back on this book as the one that launched it all many many years from now. To all the loners out there at the center of your worlds, you’re not alone. We’re all alone in this journey together. 

 

Rating: 9.5

CHICKEN DEVILS #2 - Review

It’s fuh-reezing here in LA. Yeah, yeah I don’t wanna hear from you bozos where it’s snowing and negative etcetera degrees. You signed up for that shit. You secretly enjoy it as it you mutter in smoky exhales of sub zero breath that it ‘builds your character’ as the cold freezes your face that’s forgone the use of skin care products for the past decade plus. You revel in the combative elements of a rough winter as you feel it steels your soul and your resolve to face not only the gusty winds outside of your doors but the winds that whip your thoughts of a better life in a frenzy. ‘Ha Ha!’ you guffaw lustily to the Freeze Meister, those pansy ass Angelenos wouldn’t last a lick in these frigid climes; what a bunch of pussies. You would be correct in that assertion. I wouldn’t last because I wouldn’t be there in the first place.

 

See I opted for 70 in January with the option of a scarf should it dip down to 65 at night. I traded in my snow shovel for a blue corn chip shoveling freshly made guac in between my moistened un-chapped lips. I traded in my space heater for a hummingbird feeder. I traded in my ‘You survived the elements’ badge of honor for ‘You found a parking spot at the Whole Foods in Weho between 1-2pm’ badge of honor. While you’re scraping ice off of your car I’m sitting on my steps in 77 degree weather with my hand down my loose sweatpants fondling my balls as I yell to my doggie to stop shitting on the neighbors freshly manicured lawn that has sprinklers running 24/7. What I did not sign up for is blizzard warnings, 45 degrees at noon and the possibility of flash floods over the weekend. But that’s what we’re getting.

 

What all this means is that after a hearty week of maniacally running around this expansive sprawl I finally have time to nestle in and catch up on some reading and what better comic to dive back in first with than a title from my Top 10 of 2022: Chicken Devil. Well, now it’s called Chicken Devils although it should just be Chicken Devil #6 but you know the drill, look at this fresh new #1 issue we have for this hot new series, oooh. Can you imagine if Stan Lee back in the 60s was bit by this ridiculous idea that ‘people buying comics only want #1 issues’ We’d have a gazillion stops and starts of amazing story lines from the great Marvel Heroes. It would be impossible to develop their mythos amidst such insanity and yet here we are dropping #1 issues like Taylor Swift drops corny AF commercial spots every 15 minutes.

 

Anyway, the story has pivoted to where the cops, who were tracking down the mob murders of our Hot Chicken Makin’ Russian Gang Bakin’ Hero, are now teamed up with the reluctant Chicken Man to go full out vigilante and eradicate the Gangs of LA. This is all well and good if there were actual gangs in LA that were wreaking havoc everywhere you looked. Fact of the matter is it’s not the 90s anymore where the color of your shirt can get you offed, now LA is basically run by the Mob or The Cartel so all the rival biker gangs or ethnic scummy gangs depicted in this book really aren’t a thing; but they make for a fun chicken wing a ding ding.

 

The best part of the issue is when the cops and the Chicken go to ‘Haute Yoga’ to take out two rival gangs that are using the space as a meetup. First of all, I would love to go to a yoga studio called Haute Yoga! Where is it? Dude, you guys not only need to make a pop-up for this Chicken Spot in this comic but a Haute Yoga spot as well. I feel like Yoga Studios in LA have gotten grungier and less bougie. People are now just wandering in as if they woke up from a nap or are about to crawl into bed after a long day. Used to be you got, well women got, a little dressed up for a yoga class. There’d be cute little yoga outfits and accoutrements and cute little yoga hair ties and yoga footwear. Even the yoga mats were all sexily patterned or they’d have psychedelic kombucha recipes written on the mat in Sanskrit. So yeah, hook that up Aftershock.

 

Look, this comic isn’t breaking down walls or transforming the industry but as stated before, the tone and execution is being masterfully crafted by Bucellatto and company. It’s wacky and yet somehow grounded at the same time which is a tough feat to accomplish. If I could place a bet in Vegas on which current comic will make it first to a streaming platform I would say this one. It already takes place in LA, the locations are easy peasy and the casting is diverse enough to satisfy the pokiest of the wokiest.

 

I mean, it would be nice if I could just binge the first season of Chicken Devil right now since I’m clearly going nowhere this weekend due to all that wet stuffy chill thing that’s happening outside. What do you nimrods who enjoy shoveling snow while your nuts climb into your rectum to stay warm call it? Wehhh, something, wehh dirt, no, wehh, umm oh, Weather! Yeah, fuck that weather thing, please take back your ‘character’ and leave me and my pussified blood alone.

 

Rating: 8.5

Verdict: Pull

MONSTRESS #42 - Review

 

I’m lost. I have no idea what the hell is going on in this wackadoodle book anymore. Look, you can take your little six month hiatus if you want to but it doesn’t mean it’s gonna work. It works for Saga, they have a clear story line. I can flip through their previous issue on my comic rack and within seconds go ‘Oh yeah, that’s where they left off’. I’m flipping through issue 41 of this jumblethon and my head is spinning. Liu! WTF? This ain’t a novel it’s a comic book. You’re not Ursula K. Le Guin or Piers Anthony mmkay? You’ve got a bazillion different story lines, plot devices, character arcs, mythologies and locales and I officially cannot keep up anymore.

 

There’s the Dusk Court, Evening Court, Midday Bangeroo Court, The Welcome 2 The Dawn Purple Court and probably Rucker Park and all these courts are run by God knows who and they’re all drawn with intricately detailed armor by the wonderful Sana Takeda so whomever is leading them is hard to make out half the time. Everyone betrays everyone. The foxes are being hunted by the, I don’t know anymore, Matt Fraction on acid? There’s Goths and Lesbo Loving and a Dad who hires an anthropomorphic cast of Sea Pirates. The Anime Fox is now traveling in the dreamworld to rescue the main character while she’s being swallowed whole in the real world on a lab table by a snake that James Earl Jones turned into as Thulsa Doom in the Conan the Barbarian movie. Now there’s robots and mechanical arms being welded onto humans and is that Michael Caine in a robe with a glowing orb? Yeesh, he’s in everything.

 

This all comes on the heels of a slew issues that dealt with the war between everybody and nobody. There were pages and pages of military strategy and envoys between Sharks with Dicks and Wolves with Tits who are about to be ambushed by flying pirate cats with swords. It got to the point where I didn’t know who was fighting who and why other than the fact that lots of Lion Headed Dudes and Screechy Witches were angry about it. I’m really starting to think Marjorie Liu takes these hiatuses as a way to keep her series going.

 

 

Image: Hey Marjorie, thanks for coming in. So, we’re thinking we want to wind down this –

 

Marjorie: Oh emm gee, I totally spaced, my flight to Mongolia leaves in an hour not three hours. Yikes! Gotta go! I’m going to be churning butter in a farm two four seven, zero reception. Ta!

 

 

The tragedy in all of this is that this began as an amazing series. Add in the fact that Sana Takeda’s art never fails to amaze or disappoint and it’s hard to want to put this comic in the ‘see ya’ pile. I mean, does Marjorie have an expensive shopping addiction? Is she on Wayfair buying endtables and spice racks all day long? Does she have a Dom in a Dungeon that she goes to who charges her a cigarette on the arm a bruised leg and a thwack to the thighs? Does she need to keep extending this series as long as possible to fund said addictions?

 

The most integral relationship of this series is that of Maika and the ravenous mystical ancient God that lives inside of her. That and how it ties in to Mommy’s blind ambition for power. Everything else is fancy window dressing and the b,c,d,e etc. stories. There was a major revelation that took place in issue 40 but now we’re on the astral plane where anything can happen and I mean anything.

 

Here's why there's no way I can ever give this series up notwithstanding the fact that I've been in the ride since day one so I've dropped about $150 so far trying to keep up: This book is full on straight jacket bonkers but in a good way. Look, the imagination and world building of Monstress has always been off the charts and now in this issue we get the main characters floating on an asteroid made up of the ancient God in a dreamworld where Maika's inner child is there along with her decapitated talking head from the real world. The Anime Fox is there along with the main Cat character as well. All of a sudden a gi-normous Cat Monolith appears in space with a wide burning opening in its stomach and after some trepidation all the characters jump in the burning cat stomach. Dude. 

 

Wasn't there an article that came out that said having a lot of cats around you makes you crazy? Like there's some hormone or toxin they release in the air that affects your mind? I think it's safe to say that Marjorie Liu probably has two to three dozen cats where she lives and they're in essence writing this entire epic tale. They probably let her sleep, have a cup of coffee in the morning and then command her to her laptop where she's taken over by an Abyssinian and a Maine Coon who take turns writing scene descriptives and dialogue. So, I gotta give it up to the cats for the flat out chutzpah and wildly out of this world plot developments they come up with. They must be digging on some serious high potency nip.

There never has been a jumping on point for this book. There also never really has been a jumping off point. There's only been a 'jump through this hoop of insanity and join us on this feline journey where it may not be coherent but it will certainly crawl into your soul'. Damn you Monstress. You're like that crazy lying ballerina chick I used to date who did releves and demi plies while stripping to 'Pour Some Sugar on Me'. Sometimes you gotta stick with the crazy cuz it'd be fucking crazy not to.

 

Rating: 7.4

Verdict: Pull