I’m an American. I didn’t choose to be one, nor do I hate being one. But since my parents boned on this side of the Atlantic, I’m an American. As such, I’m required to uphold certain traditions. I always watch the Superbowl. I gorge on buffalo wings until I can’t stand. And I perpetuate a friendly rivalry with the British.

Ah, England — our kooky sister country right across the pond. The nation has exported so many wonders that have improved the quality of my little vacation on planet Earth. Iron Maiden hails from England. So does Mr. Bean. And Love Actually takes place in London. So there’s more than enough reason for us to be chums.

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Jonah Hex is a comics bad ass. He’s a cowboy macabre, an anti-hero that walks not with the law of the land but the law of his conscience. A man of the Wild West, Hex has found himself dealing with thieves, Natives, jailbirds and the goddamn Civil War. Hell, he was even initiated into the Black Lanterns!

Needless to say, dude’s been around the block.

Other than his adventures, Hex is probably best known for his face…or lack thereof. Maybe it was an Apache attack. Maybe he was double-crossed. Or maybe he should’ve used ProActiv and now has to deal with pesky pockmarks. In any case, he’s got a face that only a mother could love.

And that’s where you come in.

To celebrate the release of the Jonah Hex movie (June 18^th), OL is teaming up with the good folks at 43KixBoston. The first five readers to email us photos of themselves doing their best Jonah Hex impressions will win prize packs for the movie. So put on a grimace, toss on a cowboy hat, throw up your best finger-gun, maybe spread some mulch on your face, and send those photos in! Make sure you put “Jonah Hex Contest” in the subject line and include your address in the body so that we can hook up the swag!

We’ll announce the winners by posting their photos right here on OL! Free stuff and exposure on the `Net? It’s almost too good to be true!

Send submissions here: [email protected]

And again, many thanks to 43KixBoston for sponsoring this contest!

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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]

COWBOY NINJA VIKING has finally made its triumphant return! I caught wind of this series back in early April and have been eagerly anticipating this sixth issue ever since. Fortunately, the wait has paid off as the comic delivers.

Plot-wise, the reader follows Duncan as he struggles with two different dilemmas. Stemming from the turmoil of daily life, most readers will be able to relate to the first of these predicaments; being torn between two lovers. On one hand, the protagonist is quite interested in Grear as he and her “have industrial amounts of sex that’s like, porn star awesome.” On the other hand, Duncan finds Nix “God-damn alluring in a completely non-threatening manner, which makes [him] incapable of forming coherent thoughts…” With the skill of an excellent TV drama, COWBOY NINJA VIKING takes the reader through the process of selecting a mate.

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Dave Mustaine has got to have a million amazing stories. Unfortunately, he’s got a new best friend that discourages the glorification of senseless mayhem. Not that I’m a fan of it either, but it makes for a good stories. And since Dave Mustaine is one of metal’s most influential figures, a former junkie, a karate kid (see above), and a shit-talker, he’s got to have a few narrative aces up his sleeve.

Luckily, the Internet has all sorts of gems hidden in its crevices. Check out this interview of Dave Mustaine from the early 1990’s.   Highlights include his explanation of the cryogenic chambers from the Hangar 18 video and his referring to a brothel as butt-city.

Also, it’s pretty obvious that he’s hopped up on goofballs.

The first promos for the Green Lantern movie are starting to make their way onto the web. As far unrevealing one-sheets go, they’re pretty cool. I guess.

But what I’m curious about is the tagline Anyone Can Be Chosen. I know that it’s a marketing ploy aimed at pumping some excitement into every slob with dirty Zatanna fan fiction hidden in their sock drawer. But I don’t want to think that anyone is eligible to be a Green Lantern – surely there has to be some sort of application process. Doesn’t a GL have to have some worthwhile quality? I mean, didn’t Hal Jordan get a ring because he’s a fearless motherfucker with unshakable will power?

Moreover, isn’t part of what makes superheroes cool the fact that they’re unique individuals, one-of-a-kind beings endowed with special powers? There’s only one Superman. There’s only one Wolverine. There’s only one Green Lantern.

Oh shit.

Fuck it, I’m in. I asked my mom really nicely and she said I can go to Green Lantern Camp next summer! Woo-hoo!

I’ve often wondered if I could survive with no other liquid than beer. Usually, these deep thoughts come after I’ve had about six or seven. I just think about beer’s amazing flavor, and its ability to make me feel like a hero, and how funny it makes everything seem. Even shit I shouldn’t be laughing at. Ah, if I could drink beer all the time then I might experience actual heaven on earth!

But lo and behold, there is no heaven at all! And, there might not even be an earth! What the fuck does that mean? I DON’T KNOW!

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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]

iZombie is the story of Gwen Dylan, a zombie with a heart of gold. She doesn’t particularly like the fact that she’s undead, nor does she revel in having to eat a human brain every month. In fact, she says that the fleshy snack “tastes awful. Combine the two most horrible tastes you can imagine — like motor oil and someone else’s vomit — and you   won’t even come close to this level of nasty.” But Gwen chomps on brains as it prevents her from having a really bad hair day.

To atone for her less-than-delicious sins, Gwen solves crimes using the powers endowed to her. Specifically, every time that a brain is consumed, memories of the once-living individual are accessible. Since this is a comic book Gwen just so happens to eat the brains of people murdered in mysterious ways, thereby leading her on strange adventures!

In addition to Gwen, iZombie features a slew of supernatural characters. There’s Scott, the werewolf-computer-nerd who is pining for the pallid protagonist. There’s Ellie, the   ghost of a best friend who resides in the cemetery Gwen works at as a gravedigger. Nemia’s a man-hating vampire living in a virtual vamp sorority, encouraging her roommates to seduce men to their deaths. And the list goes on, including vampire hunters and maybe even an incarnation of the Invisible Man (or is he a mummy?!).

On paper, iZombie may just seem like another cash grab at one of the newest trends of fiction –   the saccharine supernatural. Yeah, we’ve had plenty of wannabe vampire-studs (this is a hunky vampire) and lighthearted romps through post-apocalyptic zombie-lands. So the territory is familiar. But in this instance, the comic succeeds more because of execution than the premise.

Through the course of the first two issues (okay, I admit it — I picked up the first issue of iZombie today as well) writer Chris Roberson manages to make the reader care about the characters and the conflict at hand. With concise exposition, Roberson expresses just how bummed out Gwen is about her whole not-alive-but-not-dead disposition. The reader feels for the first victim whose murder the protagonist investigates after reliving his final moments through memory. And humor runs abound, such as with the inclusion of Scott’s video game-lovin’ coworkers who just don’t understand why he never hangs out on full moons (DUH!).

Most important to iZombie’s success, however, is the stunning art of Mike Allred. I’m not going to waste your time with my half-accurate, feeble minded descriptions. Instead, I want you to feast your eyes:

iZombie was an impulse purchase, an attempt to make up for the fact that this was a relatively light week at the comics shop. But it paid off, and I was presented with a solid tale of horror supported by the authentic work of an enthralling artist. Buy this book.

It’s Memorial Day weekend. Please don’t forget that even veterans of fictional, intergalactic wars need our support.

Perhaps more than ever.

Sometimes the Friday Brew Review can get a little out of control. During the process of tasting new beers, I often find myself inspired creatively. Sometimes the inspiration gets into the review’s bloodstream, transforming it into a short story. Other times, the alcohol seeps into my brain-bone and I have to comment on cinema to get it out. Yes, this place can turn into a real monkeyhouse.

If you come to the Friday Brew Review looking for beer advice, this week’s for you.

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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]

Spoilers Ahead. Forreal.

Images & Words is once again taking a stroll through the streets of Shotgun City. It’s a futuristic slum, a place where even impressive technological advances cannot push against the tide of mediocrity known as the human condition. A diseased corpse wrapped in LED lights. It is a sociological ecotone, a convergence of possibility and failure that is bound to bewilder any visitor.

And it couldn’t be any more beautiful.

This is might be why I love Choker so much. It seems to be that the stories I become most invested incorporate the setting as an integral component of the narrative structure, as opposed to arbitrarily settling for any location. Sometimes the setting is so important that it becomes the crux of the story, such as with the island in LOST or the eponymous ship of Battlestar Galactica. Other times, settings make subtle suggestions that readers pick up on without even knowing it; the barren dunes of Tattooine reflect Luke Skywalker’s inexperience, whereas Death Star 2 represents the chipping away at Darth Vader’s once impenetrable heart of darkness.

So as I walk through Shotgun City, my visitor’s map is pissed on from a fourth-story fire escape, I just laugh. “Wow, that old lady’s got great aim!” And then I notice that her impeccable shot can be chalked up to night vision goggles and a laser-guided rocket-catheter. What a fucking world this is!

To be fair, maybe it’s inappropriate of me to pass off my hallucinations, my romps through fictional elseworlds, as a comic book review. But once you’ve consumed enough caffeine to reach Omega Level, reality and fiction become interchangeable terms, travel guides and reviews become synonymous, and definitive concepts are forfeited in favor of the indefinite but undeniable. And so, I pour more Rockstar Recovery into my system, gaze up at toppling skyscrapers of Shotgun City, and continue my trek.

Making my way through the dense concrete jungle, I learn all sorts of tidbits about its inhabitants. For instance, it turns out that some employees of the Shotgun City Police Department are eligible for Man Plus, a procedure that endows participants with superhuman strength. That is, of course, when it goes according to plan.

Unfortunately, Detective Johnny Jackson’s operation did not go quite so smoothly. As he was informed after awaking from surgery,

Those impervious to the enhancement properties have instead cultivated some very undesirable results. Manifestations of pre-existing conditions I’ve seen before, though not to this extent…But then I’ve never before encountered a genuine case of alien hand syndrome, let alone a transmutation of it.

Ah, so I see…that’s why Jackson’s left hand occasionally tries to shoot him in his sleep or choke him to death. It’s all making sense!

My daytrip also finds me overhearing explanations for the misandry of Flynn Walker, Jackson’s surly partner. Jackson’s associate Royce Davies provides some gory details;

I mean, you heard about her husband, right? Catching him in bed with her sister and best pal…? There’s even rumors that her mother was in on it. Pretty fucked up, huh?

With that being said, Walker’s rage comes in handy from time to time. Combined with her Man Plus, this unadulterated aggression helps her fend off a bunch of Marilyn Manson-looking teenage attackers…who can fly. I see her take out these gothic avengers, these outsiders who declare that “It’s all different now: the bullied have become the bullies. And we’re really, really in the mood to hurt people.”

Right before I board my bus outta Shotgun City, I see a fucking freakazoid tearing people limb from limb at the police department. Hell, even Walker and her aforementioned abilities can’t lay the fucker out. I suppose Johnny Jackson might have to step up to plate, so hopefully I can see him do something wonderful during my next visit.

Choker #3 is entitled Down These Mean Streets a Bastard Must Go. I agree. If you like comic books and have yet to visit Shotgun City, consider yourself at a disadvantage. Go buy this goddamn comic.