For the past month or so, Caffeine Powered has been presenting Variant Covers, a weekly feature that previews some of the more notable comic releases of the upcoming Wednesday. Starting this week, I am going to begin offering Images & Words, a complementary post that essentially tells you about my favorite comic of the week.

So to clarify:

Variant Covers — Caffeine Powered tells you which comics to look for.

Images & Words — Pepsibones rants about his favorite release of the week.

Get ready for some magic! (“Illusions, Michael, illusions…”)

Just as Caffeine Powered told you on Tuesday, some big titles have dropped this week. Jonathan Hickman continues his excellent run on Fantastic Four by starting a new arc that centers on Franklin Richards; Geoff Johns and Ed Benes remind us that Hal Jordan and Kyle Rayner aren’t the only worthy ring-bearers of the DCU in   Green Lantern #49; and one-shot Captain America — Who Will Wield the Shield is less of a cash-grab and more of a genuine exploration of the new relationship between Steve Rogers and James Buchanan.

While I don’t feel as though I’ve wasted any cash this week (which is a rare thing in the life of a comic nerd), one collection of images and words stands a step all of the aforementioned titles: Detective Comics #860.

For those of you who haven’t been keeping up, Detective Comics has been helmed by Batwoman since Bruce Wayne bit the dust. Long story short — Batwoman is Kate Kane, a Jewish lesbian with special ops training, a father with connections in the military, and an insanely rich stepmother who ostensibly funds the vigilantism without even knowing it. Yeah, I know that the description makes the character simultaneously seem like a bit of a stretch as well as a disingenuous attempt to insert diversity into comic books. To be honest I don’t have any investment in the idea or concept of Batwoman, but the collaboration between Greg Rucka and J.H. Williams III  has kept  me coming back for more.

Story wise, Greg Rucka has been using Detective Comics to present the compelling mysteries and tales of crime for which he has come to be known. This latest issue, the third part of an arc titled Go, features flashbacks in which the reader sees Kate Kane trying to cut her teeth in the crime-fighting biz. In the process, Kate has to deal with ex-girlfriend/DCU fan-favorite Renee Montoya and eventually come to accept the assistance of her father. The narrative then takes us to present day, in which Kate is trying to deal with the fact that her long-lost twin may actually be a villain named Alice.

Again, as I type this shit out, I realize how terrible and played-out it seems. Maybe it is. But even if you find nothing worthwhile about the story itself, you’d have to be a fool to not recognize the beauty that is J.H. Williams III’s paneled page.

At the very least, any comics reader should respect the way in which Williams structures his panels. On some pages, such as during flashbacks, Williams sticks to the familiar, rectangular panel layouts we’ve all come to know and love. However, the artist really shines when he takes a path less traveled; for example, the panels often compose smaller segments of a Bat-symbol that spreads across the entire page. Something so simple as putting the story within subdivisions of a larger visual whole really pays off.

Also, it’s worth mentioning that Dave Stewart is the colorist for Detective Comics. He’s  the man — if you ever get the chance, check out his phenomenal work on Darwyn Cooke’s The New Frontier.

Detective Comics #860 isn’t a classic single issue and a year from now I’ll probably be completely incapable of telling you what it’s about. But as far this week is concerned, it is an exemplary combination of images and words, visual narrative and solid storytelling. If you cash in your Slurpee cup filled with spare change and it totals four bucks, go splurge on Detective Comics.

[plight of…is generally a reflection piece on something on my mind. stream of consciousness and usually asks you guys questions in a formless rant that feels good on my fingers and keyboard]

Tony Stark is a dude who operates on multiple levels. He’s a hilarious showman in the movies. He’s a brilliant scientist. He’s a tortured creator living with the ramifications of what he built; twisted and used for evil. Like he shouldn’t have seen that shit coming. I mean, ask Mr. Nobel how dynamite went for everyone in involved.

I like my characters broken. And I think we all do. As much as we like the slings of shields and the deployment of repulsor cannons, we also like to see the cracks within the psyches of those who are so divine on the outside. Is that why people were so obsessed with the Greek gods? Maybe that’s why they floated for so long. We want to believe in those more powerful than us; we want to believe there’s an afterlife, or maybe just an after party when we shed our mortal coils. But we also love the idea that people so seemingly perfect, from a guy who can zip around the world within mere moments, to the Aryan Poster Child who can repel Nazis and Skrulls alike are maybe, just like us.

We love them for their heroics, but we also love them for their ability to have faults.

And maybe that’s why I love Tony Stark so much lately.

There’s something so very schadenfreude about watching Tony Stark’s spiral into oblivion lately. What happens when a billionaire genius is reduced to a vegitative state? What happens when all of that is on his own hands? Siding with the Pro-Registration side in the Civil War, losing the country to Norman Osborn? Being indirectly responsible for one of the death of Captain America? Allowing his weaponry to fall into the hands of terrorists?

It’s enthralling.

Matt Fraction’s been ripping off pieces of Tony Stark’s mind like layers of Iron Man armor, leaving the idealist underneath is exposed. I love in Fraction’s Iron Man Disassembled storyline we see a Stark who is exposed, reduced to his core essence. And what we see is a guy who genuinely wanted to make a difference, only to have shit collapse underneath itself like a poorly played game of existential Jenga.

I’m a sucker for when shit goes wrong. Whoops, a bit simplistic, I suppose. I enjoy the exploration of the paving of hell. You know, with good intentions and shit. Stark wanted nothing more than solve the world’s problems. But his problems? They fucked up. I’m love the flawed, I revel in the mistakes. It seems so very human, especially for a billionaire genius.

How many times have you laid the best of plans, just to see them crumble under unforeseen circumstances? I’m guessing a million, or a zillion. And then compound them with the concept that you’re trying to save the world. It’s fail on a near biblical scale.

As Stark tumbles from his chariot atop Olympus, he’s reduced to a dude in a hospital bed, ruined amongst friends. And as we see him tripping out in some dreamworld, it’s refreshing to see him realizing that he needs help. Parables atop of awesomeness. It’s childish only in its simplicity, but there’s reasons that such lessons have been for thousands of years. We stray from them, only to be reminded of the weather axioms. You’re a brilliant mind, you’re a visionary, Stark. But you’re only a man. And it appears that everyone needs help.

Fraction calls it a classic Campbellian origin story in reverse, and how! Seeing Stark in an Achillean masterpiece unfolding backwards, his armor being taken off piece by piece in epic, gorgeous unfoldlery. Yes, unfoldlery. I made that word up.

So as I said, I like Stark because he’s flawed. He’s an alcoholic. But he also trounces amongst the Gods. And that’s an important secondary portion of what makes him so interesting to me. I know it’s not an original archetype, I know it’s nothing new. But in some defeatist, post-modern mentality, what hasn’t been done? If Tony Stark is an Achillean tale playing out in rewind, then Fraction is rocking his mimetic skills like woah. It is the way he has arranged the archetypes, those he has chosen to fill the roles, and his ability to execute the storyline that makes it so special.

And let’s be clear, there’s a dude who wears a fucking mech for a living in it. That makes a lot of us geeks moist.

For not only do we want to believe in the epic brilliant, the unrelenting flaw, but we want to believe in the power or redemption. We love superheroes, us comic book nerds. We love them like woah. And to a lot of them, there is the concept of rebirth, of reconciliation attached. Tony Stark is the me that can never be. I want to be a billionaire, I want to have a suit of armor, I want to save the world. Of course I do, I escape from the pratfalls and trials of life through men in capes, through aliens and battles. And even though I can never do so, I can live vicariously through Stark and his rotten mind, and his of course, quintessential redemption. The Gods of Olympus remind us of ourselves, they give comfort to us in their flaws, and yet never fail to inspire us nonetheless.

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.