The above picture is Nicholas Cage looking like a douchebag in a superhero costume. But that’s okay. Because unlike if he starred as Clark Kent in Superman, the dude is supposed to look absurd in his current role. Dudebro is starring as Big Daddy in the film version of Mark Millar’s Kick-Ass.

I love the shit out of Kick-Ass, even if it’s just Millar riffing once again on the mundanity of suburban life, and how all of us geeks yearn for being able to fly around and shoot shit out of our asses, and eyes and cocks and stuff. And in the forthcoming clip, we get to see how Big Daddy trains his daughter to be a superhero.

How?

He teaches her how to take a bullet, by shooting her in the chest. It’s as amazing and hilarious as it sounds. Check it out after the jump. Keep Reading »

Daredevil #503

I’ve been digging on Daredevil for a while. Somehow this title has been given the gift of quality creative teams time and time again. How it’s gone from Bendis (prior to being stretched thin writing the entire Marvel Universe) to Brubaker to now Diggle is beyond me. Most titles have me dropping them like woah once their quality team leaves. Or maybe I’m just an asshole; I’ve stuck around with both the Daredevil and Fantastic Four creative shifts and found myself pretty fucking stoked with the follow-ups.

Daredevil is currently the head of the fucking Hand. Seriously. Diggle’s taken a dude already consumed with an impressive amount of self-hate and thrown him into the belly of the Devil. Meanwhile Kingpin, when not stuffing his face with quality New York City vendor hotdogs is, of course, trying to bring down the Murdock. There’s something awesome about seeing Daredevil rolling out with a fucking clan of ninjas, who now all sport bad ass devil horns in their typical ninja masks.

I’ve enjoyed watching Daredevil’s spiral into oblivion for years now. Instead of throwing the reader some predictable “Golly gee, I’ve found my way” bullshit, Diggle has gone the atypical route and well, Murdock just keeps fucking up. He’s sitting on a throne of misery in the heart of some cave somewhere, contemplating the various ways in which he has fucked up. This issue follows Murdock as he continues to wield a league of assassins for something resembling good, which sounds a lot like trying to corral extremist terorrists into running a daycare program. Good luck with that shit, Matty.

Also coming out this week in the Marvel neck of the woods is a fucking fuckload of comic books. Captain America Reborn #5 is coming out, which promises to like, totally have you on the edge of your seats wondering if Steve Rogers is coming back. That’s sarcasm, we all know he’s coming back. Even worse? Dude already appeared, alive, in last week’s issue of Invincible Iron Man. What the fuck is that shit, Marvel? Were there delays and shit in shipping titles? That was confusing as Batman dying twice last year. Astonishing X-Men #33 continues doing its own thing in the X-Verse, while the rest of the titles seem to be converging on some epic confrontation. As usual. This time hinging on the return of Hope or some shit to modern times. Hint: She’s totally Jean Grey.

Incorruptible #1
A lot of people have spent the good part of 2k09 jizzing in their pants over Mark Waid’s Irredeemable. Basic premise? Superman becomes a psychopathic killer, and the world dares to find a way to try and stop him. I haven’t made my way through all the issues, but there’s a haunting scene where the Superman Analog wipes out an entire family before whispering in the ear of the fallen family’s daughter “Do you know who I am Sarah? I’m a superhero.” Creepy shit.

Anyways, Waid senses a good thing when he has it, and he’s busting out the foil for Irredeemable, Incorruptible. It’s the inversion of the prior title, seemingly chronicling a dude who was a baddie deluxe who now wants to walk the path of the righteous. He goes from MAX DAMAGE to MAX DARING. I don’t know. Maybe it’ll be cool. Waid’s got me sucked in just based on the title following the wake of Irredeemable’s hype. Maybe it’s sweet as fuck, maybe it’s a forced attempt at contrasting themes. I’m snagging the first issue at the least and hoping for the best.

Green Lantern Corps #43

They should title this shit “Green Lantern Corps #43 – If You Don’t Read This, You Won’t Know What the Fuck Is Going On In Blackest Night.” Yeah, that title is long as fuck, but it gets the point across. I’m cool with tie-ins, but when every single fucking title that is in a tie-in must be read to understand the central story. I picked up the latest issue of Blackest Night, and all the Lanterns were giving each other handjobs and having beers after work. It’s not that I couldn’t figure out what was going on. But rather, I think that something that goddamn important shouldn’t be relegated to a spin-off title.

I’m sure there’s some length conversation that could take place wherein we debate the proper role of tie-in titles and other bullshit, but I’m just going to side-step intellectualism (I know I did that far, far before this) and call them dumb and lame. Auxiliary titles should supplement the main event title, not contain moments that are enormous occurrences. I understand the financial reasons for it, but c’mon. Please? If I have to pick up Green Hornet someday to find out that Superman has decided he wants to be a professional ventriloquist in Throwdown for the Cape and Red Undies, I’m going to be annoyed.

Other DC titles dropping are stuff and stuff. There’s an Arkham Asylum special, which makes sense, because the game sold a zillion copies and is already getting a fucking sequel. Then there’s Superman/Batman #67 which is a Blackest Night tie-in. Which means they probably end the war, Batman returns, and Superman gets Lois pregnant. Just, you know, judging by the fact that they give serious content to spin-off titles to keep you buying them. No, I’m really not complaining about that still.

Okay, yes I am.

Paul Pope is not only an amazing comics-creator, but a true inspiration and one of my personal heroes. I admire Pope because of his ability to swoop into the world of comic books to deliver amazing stories  & fresh perspectives, and then stage an exit before falling victim to the pitfalls of the medium. I don’t know much about the technical aspects of illustration, but I know that every single panel of Pope’s work I’ve ever seen feels authentic/genuine/as though the man is incapable of phoning it in.

Although he’s  spun some of great  yarns about franchise-characters  , he understands that they fulfill a certain role. In an interview to address his exhibition at the Art Directors Club in New York City, Pope offered the following:

“They periodically kill off Superman or Captain America or Batman, then according to [formula], they resurrect them again. I don’t follow continuity comics unless a really amazing cartoonist is drawing the story, an Eduardo Risso or a Frank Quietly or a John Cassaday or a Steve Rude. I think superheroes represent themes rather than function as true characters in any literary sense. Because in real life and in literature, people and characters make choices and have a destiny, and must necessarily change–maybe for the better or the worse– but they are substantively different from the person they were at the beginning of the story. The superheroes don’t change, the guardians of the franchise don’t want to change them, and the audience probably doesn’t want it either.”

So although I enjoy the hell out of Batman Year 100 (which, roughly speaking, reads to me as a cross between the Batman mythos and a Bladerunner-styled technofuture), Pope’s original works are the creations to which I am most drawn. For an amazing testament to the power of sequential art, I strongly recommend 100%. Despite being a bit of a cynic, this book makes me believe in the value of love and art and trying to make the most out of a life that often seems utterly insignificant. And while this all sounds great in theory, Pope’s execution is nothing short of perfection.

As a student of narrative, there’s been many a night in which I’ve asked myself, “What’s the fucking point of this stuff? Why should I even bother concerning myself with the past? What can fiction do for the world?” The best answer I’ve ever received comes on the eighteenth page of Pulphope, Pope’s collection of art and essays:

“When I need my own mirror of men and angels, I too turn to hear the voices of the dead. Without even having faith in mystics, I too turn to take my cue from dead mystics. When I need voices, I turn to Emerson and Thoreau. Their Transcendentalism rings a bit hollow to me (I am no Platonist), but their words still ring clear and true. I turn to the dour civics of Confucius and the clear-eyed cynicism of Machiavelli. The life-embrace of Epicurus. I turn to the dreamtime of Jung and the pastorality of Tolkein. And to others. These poets and philosophers are the whispering dead I hear, pointing the way to the road which leads out of this inferno. These are the dead on the roof with me, these are my Virgils. They point their parchment fingers toward the arc of the heavens, helping make sense of a meaningless rising moon and a mute and dumb setting sun.”

Today, the mailman dropped off a limited edition Paul Pope print from the folks at Nakatomi Inc. The one-sheet is a tribute to Guido Crepax, an Italian comics artist of yesteryear whose work is (apparently) marked by sexually-charged female figures. The 13×19 variant features babes, motorcycles, and a shootout; in other words, it’s dope.

I couldn’t be happier with this print. Beautiful in its own right, I’m going to hang it with the added satisfaction of knowing that I possess a limited edition poster created by comic books’ most inspirational, if not underappreciated, artists.

I don’t have much hope — but I have Pulphope.

A couple of weeks ago Pepsibones and I walked into our local comic shop. I hadn’t been in a long damn time, and it was great to step foot into it. I’ve always joked that Wednesday and the bushel of new comic book releases was the only therapy I needed; mind you it isn’t, but it makes me feel good. There is something invigorating about being swathed in a bunch of comics, cheesy stand-ups, and nerd t-shirts. Just shooting the shit with an awesomely jovial owner about a variety of things, and then marching home with a pack of new releases under my arm.

I hadn’t been in awhile though, and I had felt myself falling out of love with the same superheroes that I’d been following for fifteen years. I had Event Fatigue. I was burnt out on the endless Blackest Night and Dark Reign titles. I just wanted to pick up a comic book, have a well-crafted tale told by a favorite author of mine, and not be assaulted with an endless litany of crossovers and “continued in”-type shit.

In other words, I was fucked.

Pepsibones had been handling the comic book reconnaissance, but I felt a deep yearning in my nerdticles that day. I needed to return to my Mecca. Recharge my batteries. We walked in and I hit the owners with a guilty-ridden wave. I felt like I had neglected them. Did they fear I was cheating on them with another comic book store? Sticking my greendongs in someone else’s register? Christ, I hope they didn’t think that.

We walked over to the comic book rack, and I was hopeful, excited.

And then I saw the releases. I scanned the rack, scanned the rack, scanned the rack. There was nothing there. I was depressed, concerned. What the fuck was going on? I walked over to one of the owners, Dean.

Dean, dude, recommend something. Please, give me something to read.

Dean looked at me.

What do you mean? It’s a pretty big week. There’s tons of stuff over there!

I looked at him, incredulous. Was it really? All I saw was a cloister of bullshit. I sort of shrugged. Then he hit me.

Maybe you don’t like comic books anymore?

He was joking. Sort of. And then I began to panic. Did I hate comic books? Do I hate comic books? Have I finally fatigued of the endless carousel? Is this what happens when you become exhausted with countless deaths, rebirths, resurrections, status quo disruptions and subsequent old status quo installations? What the fuck was going on with me?

Keep Reading »

Bruce Wayne is going to be done finger-painting on caveman walls with his own feces in 2010. Even more impressive than how they killed him off twice in 2008 is the fact that they’re going to return him to the functions of the regular DC Universe next year. It’s a bit disappointing, since I was really digging the implications of old Gray Son wearing the mask. It was fun watching him figuring out how to pull off his own identity underneath the crushing symbol, and learning how to wield said logo with his own swag.

Alas.

But we all knew Wayne was coming back. So the question becomes, how well can they write the return of the Original Traumatized Billionaire? I, for one, have a stiffy.

That’s fucking right, Grant Morrison is writing this shit! Woot, woot!

And apparently he’s going to play it calm this time, because the storyline seems pretty simple. Just kidding! We have some sort of temporal, mind-warping bullshit that only the guy who proclaimed he had been abducted by aliens could produce:

Via CBR:

Debuting in April 2010, the aptly named Batman: The Return of Bruce Wayne finds the character — presumed dead after the events of Final Crisis but actually hurled into the far-flung past — attempting to reclaim his memory and his place in time.”Return is a fairly intricate time-travel story in which the world’s greatest hero, the optimum man, is up against the supreme challenge to his ingenuity and skill,” Morrison tells USA Today. “How does Batman get out of the ultimate trap? It has a mystery and an apocalyptic countdown going on, there are some major twists and reveals, and it sets up big changes to the Batman universe status quo.”

It sounds trippy, if not reminiscent of Brubaker’s take on bringing Steve Rogers back, which features him…also tumbling through time and space. And the big changes to the Batman universe status quo? Batman actually was the engineer behind the H1N1 flu…and AIDS…and Cancer.

Seriously.

DC Holiday Special 2009 #1

It’s Christmas time, and that’s something even a godless agnostic pro-choice heathen like myself can get into. And   let’s be honest, it isn’t about going to church or anything anymore, it’s about getting drunk on spiked eggnog and making inappropriate comments to fourth-cousins you only see once a year. And with that in mind, I’m excited for the DC Holiday Special, because it lets me think about ridiculous situations I’d like to see.

For instance, I can’t help but wonder about the time that Hal Jordan finally got a little smooch from Barry Allen under the mistletoe. The sad thing is that he never knew about his wishes being met, because Allen pulled it off at the speed of light. He continues to pine for his unspoken love. And then there’s the time where Superman got drunk and told Batman he needed therapy, and the two of them shouted over Plastic Man’s witty quips that he was trying to use to calm down the situation.

Of course, I’m sure none of this is in the special, but ’tis the season and shit. It’s probably just a boring special where they’re all giving and shit to needy children or whatever. Hey dickheads, you’ve got pretty much God and a bunch of omnipotent beings gathered together, how about you give us something sweet for Christmas, like world peace, or some shit. No, you’re probably content to grab cats out of tries and fight assholes dressed in weird underwear.

The Distinguished Competition is also putting out a bunch of books that I don’t read, but may be pretty cool. Adventure Comics #5 sees Conner Kent throwing the fuck down with Superboy-Prime. Which sounds awesome, but unfortunately I haven’t read any of these issues leading up to it yet. Superboy-Prime worked his way into my heart when he exploded half the fucking lame characters in the DC Universe with right hooks back in Infinitely Final Crisis back in the day. And then there’s Booster Gold #27 which features Mr. Gold getting hung by some Black Lantern from a tree. Which, admit it, is pretty cool.

Invincible Iron Man #21

I never really got down with Tony Stark in funny books until Matt Fraction started writing Invincible Iron Man. I know that’s high treason in some circles, and for that I apologize. It’s not that I didn’t dig on the concept, but I was too young to be actively buying the issues where he was bottoming out and being a god damn alcoholic and stuff. It all seems pretty sweet, but I’m lazy and demented and I always forget to try and snag some back-issues.

Fraction effectively reduced Tony Stark to Lennie from Of Mice and Men in the previous arc, having him format his own brain like an organic hard drive and shit. So I guess that makes him, like, Robo-Lennie and shit. But now he’s all laying comatose, and it’s up to Bucky and Thor and a bunch of other peeps he’s wronged to reboot his skull and shit.

For a tech nerd like myself, the whole His Brain as Hard Drive type thing really gets me moist. Also, I feel sort of happy that I was correct when I predicted that the dude would reinstall Tony Stark onto his mushy headguts after he was done formatting. Question though: Why the fuck would they reboot his mind, if the secrets he was trying to keep from Norman will just be restored? Or perhaps it’ll be an older image of his brain, prior to the secrets or something? And if so, is that really Tony Stark, or is it as good ole Locke would say, another entity removed from the prior string of consciousness?

See, I’m already wet.

Also, it’s nice to see the Marvel Universe finally being pulled back together. There’s been like two years since Tony Stark and Captain America were no only BFFs, so the concept of them all coming together again to beat-on some Norman Osborn ass is exciting. Maybe then we won’t have another fifteen years of Dark Reign, and they can usher us onto some other storyline.

Modern Warfare 2 Ghost #2

If you’re like me, you didn’t know that Modern Warfare 2 had a comic book. And that makes sense, since if you’re like me, you’ve been too busy getting fucking owned by thirteen year-old kids in said video game. Seriously, there’s nothing more demoralizing than hearing a barely pubescent little kid shit talk me, and I can’t say anything, since he’s killed me fifteen times in a round. God dammit.

I’m simultaneously surprised and not surprised that there’s a comic book for MW2, especially for Ghost. Ghost is like the Boba Fett of MW2, he’s quiet, barely around, and he kicks a shitload of ass. Plus, he’s got a skull on his face, and those thirteen year-old kids I fucking despise probably want to grow up to be him.

But at the same time, the plot to MW2 was pretty much a rejected 24 plot. Don’t throw tomatoes at me, I’m just saying. And that’s cool, because who the fuck plays the game for the single-player campaign, let alone story?

I predict a thousand bullets and lots of violence in this comic book, and at least fourteen nerds orgasming per comic book store.

Mark Millar and Steve McNiven’s Nemesis is going to be fucking amazing. Why, you ask? Skeptical fucks! I’ll tell you. For starters, it’s by Mark Millar and Steve McNiven. They did Marvel’s Civil War storyline, but more importantly, they did OLD MAN LOGAN this year, which is pretty much the greatest fucking Wolverine story ever. EVER. Also, Millar is a true fucking pimp and has ripped off runs on Wolverine, The Ultimates, The Authority, and Fantastic Four which make your asshole pucker, as well as his creator owned Wanted, and Kick-Ass.

And then there’s the premise:

From Comic Book Resources:

Millar: Yeah, a lot of people who’ve read it have been coming up with hilarious tag-lines. “What if Batman was The Joker?” is the tame one. “What if Batman was a total cunt?” is maybe my favourite, although it’s hardly going to be an ad. Marvel President Dan Buckley sort of paid me a compliment, saying, “This is such a stupidly simple and obvious idea. I can’t believe nobody’s ever come up with it before. You are the master of the stupidly simple idea.” Which I suppose is kind of flattering because everyone said that about “Kick-Ass” too. It’s almost too simple.

But, yeah. “Nemesis” is a reversal of the Bruce Wayne or Tony Stark archetype. What if this genius billionaire was just this total shit, and the only thing that stood between him and a city was the cops? It’s Batman versus Commissioner Gordon, in a weird way. Or maybe a super-villain version of “Se7en.” A billionaire anarchist up against ordinary people. The Joker’s the best thing in the Batman movies, so this guy is a bit of an amalgamation of all the stuff we like.

If you’re not sold? Fuck you. March 2010. I cannot fucking wait.

Supergod #2

I know what you’re thinking, “Ian, why are you recommending the second issue of Supergod, despite the fact that you haven’t even read the first one because it sold out too quickly? Is it perhaps because you’d take great pleasure in sniffing Warren Ellis’ used toilet paper?”

And the answer is invariably, of course!

More seriously though, I’ve been digging on the concept of Supergod since it was announced back in the middle of the summer. Let me try and sell it to you by quoting Lord Ellis himself on the premise of the title:

“SUPERGOD: praying to be saved by a man who can fly will get you killed.”

In short, it’s about man creating gods who then destroy the world. It’s morbid, and interesting, and it deals with all sorts of teleological shit that gets my philosophical boner rising. And oh yeah, it’s by Warren Ellis.

Siege: The Cabal

In case you were wondering what Marvel was going to do next to milk your comic prostrate for every last dollar, it’s the super megaevent, SIEGE. After seventeen years of Dark Reign, Norman Osborn plans on taking down Asgard. Good luck with that dude. But nonetheless. Since you cannot simply start MEGAEVENTS anymore without hyping it up with an Issue #0, and thirteen preludes, Marvel is giving us Siege: The Cabal. Apparently The Dude Formerly Known As Green Goblin throws down with Dr. Doom and the rest of the dillholes he aligned himself with. Smash, kapow and crap.

I’m actually sort of excited for Siege, just because it’s going to be penciled by Olivier Coipel, and I always am curious to the point of wasting money. I’m going to assume that The Cabal is just a quick money grab before the main event, but I am also a cynical asshole. How about you buy it, and if it doesn’t suck, I’ll borrow it.

Also dropping in the Marvel-verse is the fourth issue of The Marvels Project. I feel sort of shitty for shying away from this mini-series. It’s by Brubaker and Epting, who generally rock my socks. But I don’t have much interest in getting into yet another Origin of the Marvel storyline. I picked up the first issue, and never got through it. It’s wilting away sadly in some magazine rack in my house. I’m probably a true douche. And then there’s Fall of the Hulks, which is serving only to remind me that the Hulk and like his Hulk son or something still exist.

Seriously, the Red Hulk is still running around, and from what I’ve been told, people still don’t know who it is. I hope this shit doesn’t go on longer than wondering what GAMBIT’S DARK SECRET was back in the mid-90’s Hey Gambit, how do you feel about the Red Hulk?

Sacre Bleu! Mon Cheri! Mon Ami! Kinetic Playing Cards! Shitty 1990’s character! Just tell us, already!

Bro, I couldn’t agree more.

Blackest Night: The Flash #1

I know that I’m totally being hypocritical when I tell you I’m amped for this shit. I mean, I prattle off endless paragraphs about how I hate comic book events, and their spin-offs and shitty infiltration of all the regular books. And here I am, recommending a Blackest Night title? Calm down, let me explain yourself! Then you can point out the fact that I’m a douchebag.

The thing that I’ve liked about Blackest Night is that it’s focused almost exclusively on Barry Allen as the hero of the story. Thematically it makes sense, since he is the ultimate dude to have escaped death. You can take it that way, or reason that his resurrection was a cheap gimmick. Either way, he’s back. It’s nice to see an event that doesn’t involve Superman and his perpetual existential crisis, or Batman detecting shit. And with this spin-off, we get to see more of that goodness, and a fucking zombie flash!

Apparently Barry Allen’s archenemy is the Reverse Flash. I have no idea what the fuck that means, I suck at DC lore. Does he like, move really slowly? He is the reverse after all. I have no idea. But he’s back. And I have faith that Geoff Johns and his boy Scott Kolins can rip off something interesting. Flash fanboys speak of the duo in hushed whispers of reverence. I have only recently begun to appreciate the Flasher, but I am going to take them at their word.

DC is also dropping Superman World Of New Krypton #10 which sees Clark being tried for murder. I’m not down with Superman rocking out on New Krypton, but I can tell those tools one thing: Homeboy Kent didn’t murder anyone. He’s not that sort of guy. Alright? He loves his Ma and Pa and shit. I know this because we’re reminded every couple of months of this, and also of the fact that he will forever now look like Christopher Reeves. Speaking of which, and this would be tight, why don’t they resurrect Christopher Reeves in Blackest Night?

Just sayin’, cross-promotion.

Mark Millar is a straight-up pimp. And if you’re worth your weight as a Marvel fanboy, or even a lover of cape titles, you read his Ultimates back in the day. If you’re not yet reading his return to the Ultimate universe in Ultimate Avengers, it’s a problem you should correct as soon as possible. It’s slick, Hollywood action perfected on the panel.

Seriously, you owe it yourself to read it.

Warren Ellis is my goddamn hero.

In case you don’t have a clue, Warren Ellis is pretty much the comic industry’s best mad scientist. Not only is Ellis responsible for some of the best creator-owned properties of all time (Transmetropolitan & Doktor Sleepless come to mind), but he also pushes well-established properties into more compelling storylines. I’ve spent the last few years fawning over Ellis’ writing, going as far as to write a twenty-four page research paper exploring the implications of hyperreality in Doktor Sleepless.

But more than just the scribe behind some great funnybooks, Warren Ellis always has something interesting to say. Through his website, weekly columns and forum, the mad Englishman (aren’t they all?) offers a brand of insight that can only be understated as unique. Without reservation, Ellis tackles what he believes to be the trends/technologies/perspectives of the future while examining the precedents to which we so desperately cling.

For your pleasure, one of my favorite excerpts from Ellis’ 2001 collection of short essays/posts, Come in Alone:

Fuck superheroes, frankly. The notion that these things dominate an entire genre is absurd. It’s like every bookstore on the planet having ninety percent of its shelves filled by nurse novels. Imagine that. You want a new novel, but have to wade through three hundred new books about romances in the wards before you can get at any other genre. A medium where the relationship of fiction about nurses outweighs mainstream literary fiction by a ratio of one hundred to one. Superhero comics are like bloody creeping fungus, and they smother everything else. (p. 78)

Clearly, Warren Ellis is a creator devoted to the medium of comic books rather than the industry. And that’s a sentiment to which all artists should aspire.

Last week it was brought to my attention that pre-orders were being taken for Shivering Sands, Ellis’ new collection of essays, rants, reviews and other musings. At first glance, I figured that I would just snag the paperback at a bookstore; but then I realized that Shivering Sands is only available online. The author is experimenting with print-on-demand (yes, it is exactly what it sounds like) and therefore offering his newest compilation through Lulu. More than willing to give my (barely) hard-earned cash to Ellis, I ordered immediately and began anticipating the delivery.

My copy of Shivering Sands arrived last night. Despite being inundated with work, I have already blasted through the first sixty-some-odd pages. Seriously, I wish that I hadn’t already finished the media-component of my English degree because I would walk into the classroom wielding this book like Mjöllnir and smashing shit up with a ferocity that would make Thor piss his God-sized underoos. The examinations of technology and media are fucking mindblowing, delving into the notion (also found throughout Doktor Sleepless) that we are actually living in “the future,” but are incapable of recognizing it as such.

Another early highlight is found in Microcast, a January 2004 theorizing of why 2003 was an absolute dud in terms of mainstream entertainment/art. Ellis posits that niche broadcasting and narrowcasting in the digital era allows for the user to reverse the once unilateral transmission of information; in other words, users are now looking for what they want to find rather than accepting what they are given.

Ellis muses,

The mass audience is breaking down into smaller sets; and beyond that, into what Dr. Joshua Ellis (no relation) terms ‘taste tribes’ — people whose group status is defined by their particular cultural apprehension. Where one says, I know and interact with this person on the initial basis that we share tastes. Not that we all trade notes on Star Trek — not a fan thing — but that we share a cultural sphere. This creates and defines a loose community of its own, stitched together by cultural communication. And with the net in place, taste tribes are borderless. (p. 40)

I’m not even finished with Shivering Sands but I’m going to suggest that you purchase it. If you’re at all interested in comic books, media theory, chemically-induced diatribes, supporting great artists or just finding something with which to pass some time, check this book out.