[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]

Joe the Barbarian is a mindfuck. A powerful, yet sweet, mindfuck that leaves the reader gasping for breath and begging for more. I have no doubt that those readers who prefer the pump-and-dump style of narrative-coitus are going to dismiss Joe the Barbarian as just another example of Grant Morrison’s insanity.

Two issues in, I’m inclined to disagree. While starting a bit slow, Joe the Barbarian definitely feels as though it’s working towards something beautiful. Sure, it’s still incredibly unclear whether the protagonist is actually engaged in a cross-dimensional journey or if he’s just hallucinating/imagining the whole ordeal (I’d guess the latter), but that’s of little consequence at this point. All that matters is that Joe is genuinely invested in his quest, thereby capturing the readers’ attention.

Fuck, I’ve done it again — I’ve somehow started reviewing a comic book without even explaining its damn premise. Hell, maybe I should’ve taken a journalism course or some shit (see: poor excuse). Or, I could just delete these three sentences, but that would somehow seem dishonest.

Anyways, this second issue of Joe the Barbarian picks up right where the first left off, with Joe seeking refuge in his childhood action figures after a rough day. How rough was this day? Well, Joe was given the impression by his mom that their house might be on the brink of foreclosure, he was bullied by a pack of goons, and he spent a bit of time brooding about his dead father. Yikes. But with the help of the action figures in his attic, Joe is transported to an alternate reality. An alternate reality that, according to these toys, Joe must save from total destruction

Throughout the second issue, Joe (referred to as “The Dying Boy” by one especially ominous action figure) begins to make his journey out of the attic and towards the rest of the house. At times, the readers are given glimpses of what Joe is really doing –  this either  puts his epic journey in perspective or creates a greater contrast between the world as most see it and as it is seen by the hero. Again, this makes the reader ask some important questions; did Joe really break an anthropomorphic-rat-warrior named Chakk out of jail, or did he just let his pet rat Jack out of its cage? Is Lord Arc actually an outcast who once ruled a throne of light, or is Joe  talking to a lightning storm? Is Joe a chosen warrior, or is he just a hypoglycemic teen in desperate need of a candy bar?

Even if definitive answers are never delivered, the expedition from which they arise is worthwhile in its own right. Although I’m going to give writer/creator Grant Morrison his fair share of credit (yes, sometimes his madness is genius and not the other way around), I think Joe the Barbarian is truly successful because of artist Sean Murphy. As mundane and realistic as Murphy depicts Joe’s house, it’s Narnia-ified counterpart is twice as fantastic. Two-page spreads of life-size action figures in the midst of war are perfectly executed, as are skyscapes with impossible airships and  stunning crescent moons. I’m not familiar with Murphy’s body of work, but his performance on Joe the Barbarian is bound to etch a place in my (admittedly depleted) brain-bank.

And although it’s a damn shame I’m putting this individual last (and am too lazy to edit this post so that  he’s first), a big-ups is due to colorist Dave Stewart. As well as Murphy illustrates rat warriors and giant flaming skulls that hang ethereally, Stewart pounds on their chests and brings them to life. So while the night skies of Joe’s fantasy world  evoke a sense astonishment, it is  the faded purple hue  that enables them to breathe and live. I really think Stewart may be outdoing his best work with Joe the Barbarian.

Joe the Barbarian #2 is just wonderful. With the interplay between fantasy and reality (ala Wizard of Oz or Chronicle of Narnia), this is a book that can be enjoyed by all ages. It’s one of those rare finds, a  story that’s innocent enough for children but mature enough to entertain adults.

You’d be a fool to not give this comic a shot.

Good morning! To all the dudes and babes that stumble onto the den of iniquity that is OL — welcome to Wednesday. For some, this means that this cycle of  the forty-hour work-week is halfway finished. Hang in there. For others, Wednesday means the release of sweet, sweet paneled pages.

Me? I’m trying to enjoy February vacation. Unfortunately, I’ve risen before noon for the third day in a row. Damn my conditioning. Therefore, I’m pounding coffee like Bill Murray in Delirium (as seen above) and hoping something spectacular happens.

Now that you’ve woken up, what does Wednesday mean for you?

Happy Valentine’s Day

Don’t give me the standard “Uggh, Valentine’s Day, it’s completely made-up” argument. Yeah, it’s completely fabricated. As is every holiday (Wha? Jesus wasn’t born in snow-covered manger on December 25^th?!?).

If you’ve managed to fool someone into loving you, spend some time with `em today. If you don’t have anyone special in your life, go find someone.

And if you’re going to sit inside sulking all day, at least eat a heart-shaped box of chocolates. The shape makes the candy taste better (it’s been proven – by science).

To get you in the mood, a love song:

FRIDAY! FRIDAY! FRIDAY!

BEER! BEER! BEER!

TONIGHT WE DRINK AWAY THE HOLLOW NIGHTMARE, THE LINGERING WORK-WEEK GHOSTS! THE CONJURED DEMONS OF SOCIETY CRUMBLE AND DECAY UNDER DURESS OF THE FERMENTED NECTAR! THIS. IS. BREW REVIEW!!!

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Welcome to a special mid-week edition of the Friday Brew Review! As a high school teacher, my life seems to include a number of regularly-scheduled compromises — meager wages, hours spent on projects for students who couldn’t care less, the frustration of not being allowed to swear for eight hours a day, etc. But every now and then, an occupational perk seems to hop out of the shadows and give me a hug.

Today’s embrace comes in the form of a snow day.

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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]

I love comics — honestly and earnestly, at that. As such, I definitely spend more money on Wednesdays than I should. Not only do I pick up  titles that will be remembered for years to come, but some of their more timid brethren as well.

It is with this preface that I present OL’s comic of the week: Ultimate Armor Wars #4

As the final issue of a limited series taking place within the Ultimate universe, this book is hardly “mandatory reading.” In fact, I can’t even remember whether or not I’ve read all three of the preceding issues. Fortunately, this isn’t really of consequence and the comic could work fine as a one-shot about Tony Stark.

How can this be? Three word answer — Warren fucking Ellis.

While I’m sure that the story would’ve made more sense if I had carefully followed the entire Ultimate Armor Wars series, Ellis demonstrates his complete mastery of paneled images in a mere twenty-two pages. Unlike most comic book writers, Ellis can create works of legitimate merit (such as Doktor Sleepless and Transmetropolitan) and still triumphantly return to the world of capes and superpowers. So even though I can imagine Warren Ellis banging out the script for Ultimate Armor Wars in a thirty minute haze of Red Bull-induced freneticism, it’s still stronger than most of the garbage released on hump-day.

So, what’s the plot? Again, I’m not even completely sure. I know that it involves Tony Stark fighting people who wear knock-off Iron Man suits, having sex with a babe who double-crosses him and realizing that his grandfather is a cyborg. And not just any cyborg, but one that threatens his life in the hopes of learning the secret of some technological wonder. It’s chaotic, kooky and all over the place, but somehow it works.

Again, what makes the book work is the writer’s grasp of the Tony Stark character. While it seems easy for  creators to make  Stark either too much of a hero or too much of an arrogant playboy, Ellis has stumbled upon the perfect balance. Take note of the following bits of dialogue, muttered by Iron Man in the midst of battle;

“I quite literally cannot afford for you all to get killed. I’m not as rich as I used to be.”

“Dammit — everywhere I go, people in metal suits trying to turn me into dog food–”

Hell, Ellis even gives Stark a great line to describe his grandfather;

“Like Ernest Borgnine in an ill-advised love triangle with farming machinery and the wreckage of a Lincoln Continental.”

If you’re weary of spoilers and think you might  buy this book, stop reading right now. But Ultimate Armor Wars #4 gets the feature in Images & Words because it ends with one of the best monologues I’ve seen attributed to Tony Stark in awhile. Having saved the day, the billionaire-genius heads to a bar to toss back a few shots and shed a tear.  Below are the words of a man who realizes that his capacity for good is only rivaled  by his capacity for evil.

Here’s to killing things.

Here’s to stamping out evil. Heh.

Here’s to liars and cheats and what they deserve.

Here’s to the life of a bachelor and an orphan.

Here’s to saving the world.

From me.

Oh, God.

Ellis knows just which question to ask – Is Tony Stark a sad superhero or an inspiring drunk?

Fortunately (for the readers), he seems to be both.

For your enjoyment — Devin Townsend Project performing By Your Command

A few weeks ago I had the pleasure of seeing Devin Townsend in concert. To put it mildly, it was one of the most inspiring performances I’ve seen in a long time. Thanks to YouTube user superskum, you can sample the wonder that is the Great Canadian Metal/Nerd Hero.

While most of HevyDevy’s catalogue is worthwhile, Ziltoid the Omniscient is one of my all-time favorite records. At times, I think it may have been written just to suit my tastes –  a concept album about alien invasions, black coffee, metaphysics and puppets? What’s not to love?

Even without the skullet, Devin Townsend is a goddamn hero.

It was a fine afternoon in the autumn of 1946. The war was over and if you were a sailor you were guaranteed a piece of ass. Every night. These weren’t the worst of times, they were the goddamn best of `em. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.

Anyways, it was in a Brooklyn coffee shop that Socrates and Plato had their now infamous conversation about brewing beer. No, I won’t deny the fact that Aristotle was there too. But it’s important to remember that he was just tagging along. Had he not been Plato’s boyfriend, he would’ve never slimed his way into annals of the Drunken Kingdom. But the dude could smooch with the best of them, so he was there too.

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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]

The theme for this week’s Images & Words is blood and thunder. This is the phrase that I couldn’t stop thinking of as I read the second issue of Siege, the limited series that sees Norman Osborn and his cronies trying to trash Thor’s crib. Built upon the premise of gods and superheroes duking it out, the expectation is that Siege would be an action-packed fanboy wet dream.

So far, the expectations are being met. And then some.

Picking up where the first issue left off, Siege #2 takes the reader right into the middle of the battle for Asgard. As was to be expected, Ares (yes, the god of bloodlust exists in the Marvel Universe) realizes that Norman Osborn’s been playing him for a damn fool! Jumping ship, Ares has himself a slugfest with the Sentry.  And it’s this slugfest  that ends up stealing the show.

I don’t want to spoil anything, but I will say this – the fight ends with a fatality. Actually, it’s a two-page dismemberment, with entrails and blood and bodily fluids flying all over the damn place.

Yeah, it really is the artistic team of Coipel/Morales/Martin (pencils/inks/colors) that makes this comic especially worthwhile. Bendis’ scripting isn’t bad (in fact, it’s quite good) but the stunning visuals are what elevate the book. In addition to the aforementioned gorefest, even the more mundane sequences are sexy. Coipel’s pencils give Captain America a youthful sensibility which really shines through during his conversation with Steve Rogers.

Hell, the team even manages to make a snoozer of a meeting (between…well, some of Earth’s mightiest heroes) worthy being framed and hung poster-style.

I’m not going to waste time with one of my exhausting complaints about comics-events – but only because Siege is genuinely enjoyable. I think the series is pushing the Marvel universe in an interesting direction, and is doing so with guns and gods and explosions and all that other good shit. I’m sold.

If Ben Kenobi didn’t make his noble sacrifice, he’d be sensing an unprecedented disturbance in the Force right now – as though millions of geeks were crying out, only to be silenced.

Word started spreading today that Dan DiDio, Executive Douchebag of DC Comics, is going ahead with plans to publish multiple series and projects based on Watchmen. Apparently Paul Levitz, former Decent Publisher and Respectful Fellow of DC Comics, had repeatedly turned down proposals to create spin-offs based on Watchmen out of a respect for Alan Moore (the kook/genius responsible for writing the series).  Now that Levitz is  out of the picture, DiDio is willing to cash-in on the DC-owned property, with nary a regard for the wishes of its original creators.

I believe that Watchmen is the greatest fictional narrative I have ever experienced, a perfect work of unparalleled excellence. As such, I understand that any attempts to capitalize on its reputation  could never affect the power of the original series itself. But I can’t help get but pissed off when I think of schmohawks using my favorite piece of literature as means to sell bullshit crossover series, coffee mugs, and action figures. (Especially when the series lampoons such flagrant cash-grabs).

I dropped a post over at Warren Ellis’ Whitechapel forum, hoping to elicit response from the rare breed of nerd I call those whose opinions I value. To my delight, Warren offered his two cents:

Finding someone to work on it will be interesting. It’s not as cut and dried a thing as, say, working on an old Stan-and-Jack property.

And this got me thinking — What type of fucking asshole actually signs on to write/pencil/ink/color/letter/edit Watchmen 2? I’ve arrived at  two answers; 1) A greedy fuck who doesn’t care about besmirching the legacy of the seminal work of the comics medium as long he’s paid well. 2) An arrogant prick who (laughably) thinks he’ll be able to live up to the standards of Watchmen.

This is fucked. I understand that the comic book industry is fucking shameless, more of a research & development department for the Movie/Cartoon/Toy Industry than an artistically-minded field. But I guess my inner optimist is deflated to realize that nothing is sacred anymore.

Who’s going to watch the Watchmen? Anyone that wakes up before 9AM on a Saturday.

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