Alright, so I’ve sinned. I began coming across a lot of the inter-chatter on Twitter and comic book websites regarding a megaton bomb that drops today in B&R #16. So, despite having not read it – Pepsibones is snagging the OL log today – I cheated and looked it up. My impressions? Eh! Not really blown away, but that doesn’t mean I object. Hit the jump for the spoiler!, and my take.

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Variant Covers. Your one-stop shop for the comic books I’m excited about dropping this Wednesday. Your chance to comment, and recommend titles you’re reading not only this week, but in general. A brothel of pathetic attempts at intellectual dialogues, and more glaringly, juvenile jokes. Welcome, I’m excited you’re here.

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Scarlet #3
In recent weeks, I’ve tried to ease up on my bashing of writers. Well, ignoring the fact that I took Mark Millar behind the woodshed. Particularly writers that I like, and respect. So whereas I used to bemoan Brian Michael Bendis’ decline, I’ve tried to rationalize it under the idea that he carries an enormous work load for Marvel. Far too many pages for me to fathom churning out every month. I know he’s a talented writer. I know it.

Scarlet is case-in-point.

My brother and I are big fans of Scarlet, Bendis and Maleev’s creator-owned title being published through Marvel’s Icon label. As I’ve detailed before, the time that has been put into this book bleeds through in oodles of quality. Oodles, guys and gals, oodles. The title’s distinguishing feature is the smashing and tearing of the fourth-wall, with Scarlet talking directly to the audience throughout the book. Juxtapose that son of a bitch with Maleev’s creative use of paneling, and you have something that snags you by the nipples right away.

Scarlet’s recruiting a revolution, and she wants you to join in. Trust me, when a sexy femme fatale is talking to you, the loins surge.

It’s a solid title, with tropes that aren’t particularly new, but as I said, they’re executed well. Bendis’ wit shines through, and Maleev is fucking gorgeous as ever. The dude could pencil two pigeons fucking and I’d be on-board. The sort of artwork that could carry a title, but with the writing, simply compliments it.

Grab this son of a bitch.

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Baltimore: The Plague Ships #4
It seems like every time I turn around, a new issue of The Plague Ships is flying its way onto shelves. Get it, cause it stars vampires? Flying? I’m a fucking dunce? I concur. And that’s absolutely fine with me. While it isn’t righteous enough to command my full attention with every issue, the title entertains me in a mindless sort of way that I sometimes need. You should seem me when I’m reading an issue of S.H.I.E.L.D by Hickman. I got a pad of paper, and a pen. I’m scribbling notes and asking rhetorical questions like the grad school lit major loser that I am.

The Plague Ships is a way to decompress. I want to emphasize that this is no fucking knock on Mignola. The title is tight, entertaining, and extremely sexy in the artwork department. It operates on a level that I can definitely feel. Sometimes it’s perfectly fine to be nothing more than fun. For the burgeoning intellectual who is going to give some brilliant reading of Plague Ships in the comments box, let me stop you: you’re probably right, but I’m turning my fucking brain off for this title, and riding the wind. Get it? Like a vampire? Yeah, fuck me.

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Superboy #1
Lest you think I’m packed to the gills with dookie when I say I’ll read anything you recommend to me, consider this: prior to about six months ago, I had never heard of Jeff Lemire. A reader with good taste recommended that I snag up Sweet Tooth and I did so. Since then, my ass crush for the dude has been immeasurable. Love him. I’ll admit I’ve only ingested seven issues or so of his work, as I can only grab Sweet Tooth in TPB around these parts, but I dig him.

So with that said, his name alone is enough to push the relaunch of Superboy onto me. What’s it going to be about? Damned if I know. The synopsis promises wonder and the beginning of the next great epic in the DC universe, but I mean, c’mon. That’s cream puff bullshit. All I know is that it’s a very talented writer getting a crack at an up-and-down icon within the stretched parameters of Metropolis.

Sometimes the author is enough for me to check something out. Actually an author I like is always enough for me to give something a try.

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Making its way with a stunning, Flash-like rapidity around the internet today is Kerry Callen’s fucking rockin‘ take on Marvel comic book characters. Callen imagined what it would be like if Marvel characters went through the same absurd, mind-fucking scenarios that their DC companions underwent in the bonkers 1960s. Callen puts it best:

Have you ever noticed that early Marvel covers typically showcased a superhero fighting a villain, while during the same period, DC covers presented mostly outrageous, character scenarios? I started wondering what DC would have done with the Marvel characters back in the 60’s.

Then, I felt compelled to create a couple.

Outstanding. Not only are they hilarious, but they’re mesmerizingly accurate as old school, faded covers. Hit the jump to check out Callen’s work.

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This is a moment of zen for myself. A moment of clarity that I really need to clench down on.   I need to recall that no matter how mediocre and blah Superman Returns was, Singer’s meh-core movie never, ever came near the stunning shitstorm that Tim Burton’s rendition of Clark Kent would have been. Like, seriously. Just consider these pictures of the emo kid abortion suit that he would have suited Superman up in.

Fuck Tim Burton. I hope we’re all approaching a moment when he can agree, unequivocally that he sucks. Maybe we’ll never agree on whether he’s always sucked. Some people think so, but I actually enjoyed a lot of his flicks. But after his last few movies, it’s obvious: the dude isn’t even trying anymore. Throw Johnny Depp acting like a complete zany douche, mix with a generic Elfman soundtrack, and a dash of his annoying partner Helena Bonham Carter, and you’ve got a zillion dollar movie and a Hot Topic line of clothing for all the misunderstood kids to enjoy.

Fuck Tim Burton. Hit the jump to see his Superman costume that can also go fuck itself.

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[Source Loïc Zimmermann via Gamefreaks]

[OCTOBERFEAST is the greatest celebration of the year, a revelry dedicated to pop-culture’s most nutritious Halloween detritus. Plastic screams and artificial sweeteners have never been more bountiful. In the old country, villagers refer to the extended party as Satan’s Snacktime]

If you’re reading this, you’ve survived long enough to reach the final day of OCTOBERFEAST. Congratulations. I can’t even tell you how many celebrants I’ve seen collapse halfway through, proving themselves too faint of heart to endure the satanic shindig. Terror-induced heart attack, alcohol poisoning, spontaneous combustion, sugar-coma – a ticket to this event also grants admission to death by about ninety-nine different methods.

But here we are – alive and demented as ever on Halloween! This day brings us the concluding activity, an event that anyone with a heart (even a black one) should enjoy taking part in. Today, for a few hours, we reverse the relationship between the dominated and the dominating. The powerless become empowered. The ruling class elite must answer to the disenfranchised. And in the process, boatloads of candy are consumed.

Tonight’s featured enterprise is, of course, trick or treating.

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These Captain America scans from the latest Entertainment Weekly came out today as I was literally walking out the door to school. A quick check of my Twitter feed saw their appearance, but I was forced to be all responsible and go to school and such. Fucking shit. Now that they’ve been around for eight hours, they’re roughly nine-zillion years old in internet time, and you’ve seen them a million times.

Sry, sry, yo! But if you haven’t seen them, hit the jump.

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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]

Superman: Earth One isn’t my favorite comics release of the week. Nor is it my least favorite. What the book is successful in doing is piquing my interest, making me wonder about the greater implications of retelling classic comics stories through a series of original graphic novels. Even upon the first read, I truly think that Superman: Earth One may have the power to change the comics industry – either by introducing new readers the beauty of the medium or reaffirming Hollywood’s belief that comics are merely storyboards for movies.

Take a breath. Take a sip of Diet Shasta Orange. Take a seat upon my weekly comics-rambling.

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Oh shit! Fresh off of Catwoman speculation comes a significant reveal. In an interview published minutes ago, Nolan dropped the title of the third Batman flick: The Dark Knight Rises. Not only that, but dudebro shoots down the potential for the Riddler, writing him off as appearing.

Slashfilm:

The news comes from Geoff Boucher over at Hero Complex, who was able to score a coveted interview with the secretive director. “It won’t be the Riddler,” Nolan said of the third film’s villain, squashing earlier rumors and speculation to the contrary. He also noted, “We’ll use many of the same characters as we have all along, and we’ll be introducing some new ones,” a fairly self-evident   yet cryptic statement.

Evidently, Boucher and Nolan also chatted about convincing Warner Brothers to go with IMAX instead of 3D for the film, which I find incredibly encouraging. Boucher says that information will be made available later today. We’ll update you guys when we hear about it.

Thoughts? Hit the comments box with your take on it. Me? I dig it. Simple enough, penciling out the (obvious) arc that has Wayne finally rising above the turmoil of the second flick. They call that a well-traced trajectory in a trilogy. I mean, if you weren’t expecting him to triumph in the final installment of a three-part saga, you probably haven’t been paying attention to narrative in the last three-zillion years.

Oh shit! Apparently Christopher Nolan has been quietly interviewing women, searching for someone to play a female lead in the upcoming Batman 3: The Darkest Knight or whatever. Intriguing, to say the lead. What exactly is Christopher after? Nolan is looking for an actress in her late twenties or early thirties to helm this big role, and I think we can all agree on one thing: motherfuckin’ Catwoman is about to strut it up on the big screen.

Right? No? Right? Maybe?

Let me crack a controversial comment (maybe) all over your dumb faces; I would much rather see Talia al Ghu in this flick than a latex-bound vixen strutting around as Selina Kyle. And that’s saying something, since a lot of people know my utter fetish for latex, attractive powerful women, and uh, cats?

Perché, Ian!, perché!

The Bones and I have spent a good amount of time brainstorming the plot for Batman: Pretty Much A Dark Knight for Wayne since TDK dropped two years ago. And one of the things we kept coming back to is the idea that Talia rolls up into Gotham to avenge her Poppa Qui-Gon’s death at the hands of Wayne. It’s pure fanboy masturbatory wishing, but isn’t that what dork conversations are for? Hell to the yeah! Fuck yeah to the fucking speculation!

I should be clear that I am an unabashed Nolan fanboy, and if my time on Earth has taught me anything, it’s that the creators I place absolute faith in never, ever, let me down. Except for Lucas, Raimi, the Wachowskis, Peter Jackson post-LOTR, and a laundry list of other Fallen Heroes. I think it’s safe to say my brother and I have developed a complex over this.

But still.

Catwoman? Talia al Ghul? Whoever it is, I place my little, perpetually-innocent heart in Nolan’s hands.