Check it out! We finally have footage of the Devin Townsend Project recording Deconstruction, the final entry in the four-album sequence. As promised, this material seems absolutely epic, technical, and brutal. Watch the video for insights!

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[images & words is the comic book pick-of-the-week at OL. equal parts review and diatribe, the post highlights the most memorable/infuriating/entertaining book released that wednesday]

Why is Batman successful? Is it because of a physique that pushes the limits of the human anatomy, an absolute mastery of sensory perception, an above-genius IQ, and billions of dollars? Yes.

And no.

In the internal logic of the comics-world, Batman truly succeeds not as a man but as an idea. More important than a single super-stud willing to risk his life in the name of crime-fighting is the very notion that such individuals exist. Criminals and evil-doers simply cannot run amok; doing so generates the very real possibility of being put in traction by a masked vigilante with emotional issues.

For the past seventy-one years, Batman has protected Gotham City. Now, the persona is being franchised globally as this week sees the premiere of Batman Incorporated.

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Boarding Spaceship Earth during the Reagan administration, my childhood occurred in the early 1990s – an era fortunate enough to be blessed with some wonderful pop culture. Mark-Paul Gosselaar set the standard for high school hipness. Macaulay Culkin was bustin’ our guts with displays of suburban terror. And Metallica was reaching the masses while still saying something worthwhile.

But the best pop culture phenomenon was undoubtedly the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. In my day, these anthropomorphic creatures battled the forces of evil in cartoons, movies, comics, and video games – and it all kicked ass! We couldn’t get enough of these guys and their fun-loving ways.

Eventually, however, the TMNT love faded away. And this would have been fine. There’s nothing wrong with taking a backseat and being fawned upon by nostalgic nerds from time to time. But the problem is that the turtles were forced (no doubt against their will) to return to the spotlight in some straight-up bobo renditions.

The most offensive of all the later-day TMNT cash-grabs is Ninja Turtles: The Next Mutation. Long story short, this late 90s (*shudder*) live action series hoped to revitalize the franchise by introducing a female turtle. Ugh. Check out the press video below:

The worst part of the video comes as Dan Clark, executive creative consultant, attempts to justify the inclusion of Venus:

She brings balance to the boys’ lives — she brings a feminine influence into the house.

Wait, what the fugg is this guy talking about? Doesn’t he understand a damn thing about Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles? My generation didn’t love the heroes in a half-shell because they used the martial arts as a means of attaining spiritual enlightenment or holistic balance. No, we loved the turtles because they didn’t embark upon such bogus journeys. Instead, they used karate to beat the shit out of bad guys and impress hot newscasters.

And what did they do when they weren’t beating ass? They ate pizza, went clubbing, and skateboarded. In other words, it was a total bro-fest.

And it was glorious.

Get out of my face with that Venus de Milo shit.

[DEFEAT. is Rendar Frankenstein’s truest attempt at fiction.   Presented in weekly episodes, the novella tells the tale of Daryl Millar – a hero who dies at the intersection of pop culture, science-fiction, war epic, and fantasy]

“The machine-guns were screaming at us and we knew that we’d have to make a move. I mean, the Japanese were relentless and there ain’t no way that a couple of pie-eyed American twenty-somethings were going to stand a chance. I looked at Bill and I said ‘Bill, when the hell should we get out of this God-forsaken trench?’

“Well, I’ll tell ya what he said, Daryl, I’ll tell ya. Even with our good buddy James’ guts plastered all over the front of his uniform, Bill flashed me a smile and said ‘Yesterday.’

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So The Return of Bruce Wayne just concluded, bringing Gotham’s first son back into the DC Universe. But other than returning the original caped crusader, not much in the series is explicitly described. There’s time travel and hunter-killer metaphors and self-aware concepts and even Satanic rituals. There’s more room for interpretation in this miniseries than most event-books I’m come across recently.

Hoping to find some answers, I stumbled upon a post by geraldthesloth at the Comic Vine forums. If I’m not mistaken, his theory (which was posted back in May) is as such: Barbatos/Thomas Wayne/Dr. Hurt is Darkseid reborn and Batman is Orion reborn.

In other words, Batman is a Fifth World God.

Six months later, geraldthesloth‘s theory only makes more sense. If you’re at all interested in the cross-section of comics and mythology and the ever-evolving use of narrative to understand the world around us, give the guy’s ideas a read.

[source]

I don’t know much about hip-hop, but I know that Aesop Rock is a wordslinger like no other. In the same week that another artist dropped an album with some shockingly self-indulgent tracks, Aesop Rock tossed a new video onto 900Bats that proves creative word play isn’t dead…it’s just cruisin’ around in a shady van.

Check out the video and be reminded of the fact that language-arts entertainment isn’t as static as the major labels would like you to believe.

Narrative is the most powerful tool on the planet.

From personal anecdotes to sprawling epics of adventure, storytelling is the means by which the human race has made sense of existence. Which is important, because the human condition, when one takes the time to really break it down, is nothing short of baffling. We are evolved primates, cruising around the sun on a space-rock that hits 67,000 mile per hour, using technology we don’t even understand, and participating in societies founded by our ancestors. It’s goddamn insanity.

And I love it.

But what really gets me amped is the idea that art can help dispel the notion that the universe is nothing more than a giant abyss of nothingness and meaninglessness. It might be — I don’t know, I’m neither a philosopher nor an astrophysicist. But as I get older, I can’t kill the feeling that there are greater forces at play than I can ever possibly conceptualize or articulate.

Before words are put in my mouth, let me forewarn: I’m not declaring a newfound belief in God or revelation about the afterlife or some shit. My agnosticism is strong. What I am saying is that it’s pretty heavy to think of how much our lives can be changed, directed, and enlightened by stories. And what’s even heavier is the fact that, whether by clandestine design or sheer coincidence, there are connections amongst the storytellers, the viewers, and the content.

I have ascended The Holy Mountain and can attest that it is a strange, wonderful place.

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[images & words is the comic book pick-of-the-week at OL. equal parts review and diatribe, the post highlights the most memorable/infuriating/entertaining book released that wednesday]

Just look at the title of this comic book – COWBOY NINJA VIKING.

Now try to convince me that you’re not interested. What’s that, you say it’s impossible? That’s right. Cowboys, ninjas, and vikings are all bad-ass in their own right and an unholy alliance of the three is nearly flabbergasting. In fact, I’m pretty sure that combining such potent staples of fiction is still illegal in the more fearful states of our union.

But I’m a bit of a narrative daredevil. As such, I look forward to partying with the COWBOY NINJA VIKING.

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[DEFEAT. is Rendar Frankenstein’s truest attempt at fiction.   Presented in weekly episodes, the novella tells the tale of Daryl Millar – a hero who dies at the intersection of pop culture, science-fiction, war epic, and fantasy]

Hours Later.

Sweating. Crying. Bleeding. It was at this moment that Riff began to reconsider the value of having stood up against the tyranny of Brady Moore.

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Brunch is the most elusive member of la Famiglia Meal, leaving the house at the age of seventeen to follow Tesla on the road. A couple times a year, Brunch returns to do his laundry and borrow some cash. Without question, he’s the epitome of the prodigal son.

Today I was blessed by a visit from Brunch. Not only did he give me a big hug and recount his misadventures as a roadie, but he showed me his new tattoo. I never would have thought that Brunch would be blazoned with such a work of skin-art, but now I can’t picture him without it. Brunch has changed, irrevocably and for the better.

Brunch, as I learned today, is so much better when accompanied by a cold brew. Specifically, while eating my food I sipped on Clementine from the kind souls at the Clown Shoes Brewery.

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