October! October. It appears that October of 2013 is going to serve as the calendar month where all of the mythical projects we have been anticipating for a long minute will finally arrive. We’re not just getting Gravity, folks.In addition, Paul Pope will be gracing us with Battling Boy. I can only imagine how giddy this makes Rendar. I’m sort of excited, too. No, really! Look at my sweatpants. They’re dancing.
Welcome to Buy These Stinkin’ Comics!, the far too irregular/theoretically weekly comic book column. When this rotting husk of a column manifests, its intended use is to share the various comic titles that we are all interested in on a given week. Audience participation is requested – nay – required to make this monster’s heart beat. Should you not see a comic listed that you’re interested in (and you will, my taste generally is lacking), share it in the comments section. Let’s do this.
Transcender knew he was in for a world of shit.
He’d woken up from his Post-Lunar nap a bit early. Which wasn’t unusual. But rather than waiting for Larissa – the lab assistant with the big smile and bigger bust – to help him out of his pod, he crawled out on his own. Everyone on the Station knew that rule number one is that Transcender was never to be left to his own devices.
Especially after a nap.
Running a hand through his beard, Transcender gazed out the bay window and laughed to himself. “Sweet Man-Jesus, where’ve they sent me now? Is that Saturn? Oh, if Rodrigo could see this, he’d prolapse for sure!”
Had he studied the mission plans as thoroughly as he told Doc he would, Transcender would’ve known that they were far, far past Saturn.
Transcender Yonder’s attention was fully directed out the window, on the satellites and comets he’d soon be smashing to pieces, when a breeze of bitter wonder wafted into his nose. He immediately spun around, balancing best he could while his muscles readjusted to the artificial gravity, and began searching for the source of the smell. Other than his pod, all that was in the room was sterility – medical instruments, monitors, a vacuum.
And, much to Transcender’s delight, a coffee pot.
Fast as he could, the Meta-Man approached the coffee pot, threw back its lid, and poured the contents into unhinged gullet. Having never tasted coffee before, Transcender basked in the wonder of simply experiencing something new. Coffee! Aha! So this is what they drink when they wake up! A fine concoction! Chemically stimulating and socially facilitating!
But then Transcender’s hyper-sensitive neurons kicked into gear.
Larissa walked into the room just in time to see the six-foot-six ubermensch fall to his knees. He clutched at his left eye and screamed, “I have the pressure of a dying star within my skull! Sweet-mammaried Larissa, save me! I beg of you!”
Without hesitation, Larissa picked up the phone on the wall and dialed zero. “Doc? Yeah, it’s me. Looks like he got into the coffee. Yeah, Transcender’s having his first headache.”
Already knowing the answer, Transcender Yonder looked up and asked sheepishly, “Am I in trouble?”
This is the Monday Morning Commute. I’m going to run through the things I’ll be doing to entertain myself during the week. Then, you hit up the comments section and do the same. Hell, ain’t this the whole damn point of the Internet?
I hadn’t come across this riffage of Luke Skywalker by Paul Pope for Star Wars Art: Comics, despite the fact that I’m pretty sure Rendar owns the book. Oh well! Better later than never. God bless The Pope, and that intersection between talented artist and childhood staples.
In 1992 Dave Mustaine welcomed us to tomorrow. To be fair, this presentiment was most likely the product of combining hours of guitar-slingin’ with label deadlines and, of course, heroin. But the man wasn’t wrong. By the end of the 1990s, the world would be altered irrevocably, requiring us to adapt or perish.
A new Allegory of the Cave called The Matrix bullet-timed its way into our collective consciousness, reminding us that its of the utmost importance to wonder about the very nature of reality. The Internet skulked into our homes, providin’ us with unprecedented access to democracy and porn and free/stolen/whatever music. And then Star Wars fucking died.
Look around. Grandpa’s got a Bluetooth in his head, the teens use Twitter to goad one another into suicide, and SkyNet has invented a self-driving car in the hopes of obliterating human agency. So how do we survive the hustle in bustle of the post-cybernetic revolution?
We talk about the shit that makes us happy! Welcome to the Monday Morning Commute! This is the spot where I show you how I’ll be entertaining myself into the weekend. Your task is to hit up the comments section and share the wares you’ll be using. It’s really just show-and-tell with typing, but aren’t we all pretty much children these days anyways.
In my younger and more volatile years, I tried really hard to be smart. I read intelligent stuff, used big words, and analyzed movies more than I watched them. Hey, we all make mistakes. Anyways, per the requirements of a media theory class, I once found myself reading Scott Bukatman’s Terminal Penetration. At the time, I was simply enthralled by Bukatman’s examination of the postmodern relationship between technology, consciousness, narrative, and virtual reality.
This theorist’s words spoke to me, encouraging me to scrutinize reality and the ways I experience it. However, the class ended, so I went back to drinking beers and playing MarioKart: Double Dash!! instead of worrying about the inevitable collapsing of reality as its paper-thin foundation crumbles.
However, I have now learned that Paul Pope has contributed art for the 2nd edition of Scott Bukatman’s Blade Runner reader. As a diehard acolyte of the PULPHOPE, a fan of Harrison Ford’s most under-appreciated work, and a one-time student of media theory, I may just have to snag this book.
Punch it to hyperspace to see art, clips of the movie, and a video of Bukatman analyzing superheroes.
The name is the game! Welcome to Comics We’re Buying This Week, the communal comic book welcome wagon where we all share the hotness we’re snagging from the funny book farm on a given Wednesday. Per usual: my taste is shite, and I’m always looking to broaden my horizons. Don’t know what’s dropping? Behold ComicList.
For those of us in the United States, today is Presidents Day. If I’m not mistaken, the holiday came about by merging the observances of Washington’s Birthday and Lincoln’s Birthday, and then including every other dude to ever serve as commander-in-chief. Personally, I think that this inclusivity is a bunch of malarkey. I mean, Washington was pretty dope for setting the presidential precedents, so I get wanting to celebrate his life. And Lincoln? Hell, the dude freed the slaves and preserved the Union! Who doesn’t want to give Honest Abe a high-five?
So while there’ve definitely been a few president-studs, they’ve most certainly been outnumbered by the duds. As I sit around today, watching television and reading books and not doing an ounce of work, I’m going to pick and choose the presidents to whom I give thanks. It only seems right.
I’d like to start by giving mad props to Benjamin Harrison, known for serving a single term between President Grover Cleveland’s two terms! Truth!
Without further adieu, welcome to the MONDAY MORNING COMMUTE! This is the spot where I ramble about some rubbish, and then show you the various ways I’ll be entertaining myself over the course of the week. Your task is to hit up the comments section and show off your own strategies for surviving the workweek.
Okay, let’s go for it.