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.

My boy, the fucking Bonesaw, pointed this out to me. Apparently Sammy Sosa is the latest celebrity to be wooed into the darkness that is the Black Lantern corps. Now along with Chris Brown, he will accept commands from the lord of Darkness, Michael Jackson. They will go around cranking home runs, eating their girlfriends, and having little boys manipulate their nipples. Eerily, this sounds like a Saturday night out with my friends.

Seriously though, Sammy Sosa looks like a fucking mess.

I think even creepier than his skin are the contact lenses and lipstick.

Via Big League Stew:

Retirement, or something, appears to be changing Sammy Sosa(notes). He and wife, Sonia, were recently in Las Vegas for the Latin Grammys, which included a tribute on Wednesday to singer Juan Gabriel. Photogs caught the Sosas on the red carpet and Sonia looks fabulous as always. As for Sammy … well, there’s no getting around it, but Sammy looked kind of pale.His skin is undeniably lighter than at any time since he broke into the majors in 1989. Is it an illness, or a condition such as Vitiligo, in which depigmentation occurs? Is Sammy just bleaching his skin for fashion’s sake? (Heh, “just.”)I wonder if he is changing his look, simply because his eyes are a different color. Sammy was born with brown eyes. He’s taken to wearing green contact lenses and, quite frankly, they are extremely creepy. Is he co-starring in the upcoming “Twilight” sequel?

Let’s check out Sammy last year.

Oh hey, he looks human! And now a year later, just as the Black Lanterns are killing douchebags and resurrecting them to fight in the quest to annihilate life and mack on gorgeous pop stars, he looks like a pale-skinned nightmare. Coincidence? I don’t fucking think so.

File this one under drive-by posting.

I’m just stopping here to once again give props to George Zapata. After writing this entry in which I heaped all sorts of (well-deserved) praise, the aspiring artist emailed me to express his gratitude. I giggled to myself, thinking it ridiculous that someone so talented would be so appreciative of a lowly blogger recognizing the obvious.

And then I came to my senses. I had to ask,  “Hey, do you do commissions?”

In a matter of weeks Zapata was able to take my idea, provide me with rough sketches, make the appropriate alterations and send out the final copy. Due in no small part to his professionalism and skill, I am now the proud owner of a sick Morrison-era JLA sketch. Additionally, the price was very reasonable and I stand behind every dollar spent.

If I can figure out a way to scan it, I  will proudly  showcase this piece of original art. `Tis gorgeous.

But more importantly, make sure you check out GZapata for yourself.

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In case I haven’t told you, comic books are one of my favorite things in the world. Without exaggeration, I would argue that comics are just as artful as any other medium and provide a generally unrivaled integration of image and word. There is no experience quite like flipping through the pages of a good comic, becoming drawn in by paneled wonder and storytelling mastery.

With such a zealous appreciation, it only stands to reason that OCTOBERFEAST would include a serving of sequential art. I contemplated this decision for some time, trying to figure which funny-book would make the cut. At first, I though about including the Halloween-beatdown of Hollis Mason from Watchmen, but then realized that would be opening a can of worms with which I’m not quite ready to deal. Then, I considered submitting a review of the best/worst comic book Halloween costumes but that wasn’t really what I wanted to go for either.

And then it hit me. Hard. I felt like a fucking buffoon for not thinking of it right from the get-go:

The Long Halloween

One of the many collaborations between Jeph Loeb and Tim Sale, The Long Halloween is a thirteen-issue miniseries that follows Gotham City’s Dark Knight for a full calendar year. Starting and finishing on Halloween, the series sees a mysterious killer known only as Holiday claiming his victims on…well, holidays. The defenders of Gotham do their best to prevent the monthly massacres, with mixed results. At conclusion of The Long Halloween, Batman (and the reader) comes to the realization that justice may not always manifest in easily recognizable forms.

It is Loeb’s storytelling that truly sets up The Long Halloween for success. This is Jeph Loeb in his prime — crafting a murder mystery that keeps the reader guessing until the very end (and even after). Taking place in the formative years of his crime fighting career, Loeb takes Bruce Wayne through the rigors of doling out cans of whoop-ass to Gotham’s underworld. With the help of Captain Gordon and District Attorney Dent, Batman combats a mob empire comprised of the Falcone, Viti, Maroni, Gazzo, Sullivan, and Skeevers families. It is a dense tale full of interconnection, but Loeb pulls it off.

Loeb’s written story is only surpassed by Tim Sale’s illustrative execution. With the main players of the Rogues Gallery at his disposal, Sale gets the opportunity to put his signature stamp on much of the Bat-Universe. While I typically equate Sale’s art with the aesthetics of cartoons/animation, I think his performance in The Long Halloween  steps into  more realistic territory. Looking back on it, I remember being particularly struck by the use of shadows and negative space. Before being the best part of the lackluster Heroes, Tim Sale routinely rocked comics — The Long Halloween is undeniable evidence.

Even if you’re too much of a dingbat to check out The Long Halloween, you have probably still enjoyed its main themes and plot. Christopher Nolan’s Batman Begins and The Dark Knight both liberally borrow from The Long Halloween:

A young Bruce Wayne trying to get his footing as Batman? – Yup.

A mob war threatening to take over Gotham City? – Yup.

James Gordon, a rare example of excellence in the GCPD, rising through the ranks?  -Yup.

“I believe in Harvey Dent”? — Yup.

Batman, Gordon and Harvey Dent working together…until a horrible accident disfigures Dent and changes the nature of the relationship? – You bet your ass.

The Long Halloween is a meaty text. But it’s a worthwhile one. As a limited series featuring only the most recognizable figures of the Batman mythos, The Long Halloween is accessible to even the most casual of fans.

For the sake of OCTOBERFEAST, and to make yourself a better human being, give it a read.

Just one of the many scenes from which "The Dark Knight" & "Batman Begins" took a cue.

Ben Bishop is a sick artist out of Portland, Maine that I met at a Boston comic convention last year. Although strapped for cash at the time, Ben cut me a deal and I walked away with a sketchbook. I was so impressed by the work within that I ended up ordering Nathan the Caveman, his self-published debut. If you ever get the chance, check it out because it is an extremely strong first-effort, a genuinely affective love story spanning across the history of humanity.

But even if  you’d rather do yourself a disservice and not read Nathan the Caveman, you can still help out Ben Bishop. Ben is submitting a t-shirt design (as seen above) to Threadless.com. However, he needs votes in order to stand any chance  of having it  printed. As he stated in an email to his mailing list:

hey everyone, PLEASE help me out and VOTE on my TSHIRT DESIGN! if it wins it gets printed and sold and   i could get $2,000 , which i could REALLY USE! haha. its very simple, all you have to do is follow the instructions after this link! please please please. if you know anyone please have them vote as well! thanks so much!
http://threadless.com/submission/234157/killagorilla

—
– Ben Bishop

So there you have it. Help the dude out – he’s a great artist who deserves support (and could use some cash). Also, in case you couldn’t tell – that shirt design is fucking rad.

And if this Bishop’s t-shirt gets printed, maybe we could convince this Bishop to loan us his shirt:

Old Man Logan‘s conclusion is the stuff that legend shall be built upon. I’m planning on writing up a big deconstruction and essay about the storyline for Friday, but I had to type something. Like, I had to. Sitting in my mancave reading this comic to myself, I couldn’t stop myself from laughing. Huge, filthy laughs of disbelief and amazement. The conclusion redefines the term Berserker Rage. Seriously. You have no god damn idea.

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The people at some website called Mania.com have just put out the second installment of an interview with Alan Moore, acclaimed writer of every fucking comic book taken seriously. So far, it is a really interesting read – checking out the perspectives of a man who has done more to alter the course of the comic book medium while simultaneously lambasting its industry.

While I’m not going to regurgitate the entire article, I am going to present one of my favorite excerpts. In this bit, Moore discusses the perversion that is comic book fandom’s loyalty to static, well-worn properties over the creators striving to do something unique and  challenge the limits of imagination.

I remember somebody in one of the fanzines over here saying, “Well, why don’t we just not buy any Marvel comics until they give Jack Kirby what he deserves.” I thought, “Yeah, that sounds good. I’ll do that.” And, that was when I stopped buying Marvel comics. I think in the next issue of the fanzine, someone said, “Uh, yeah, but fans are never going to do that, are they?” And, as it turns out, he was right. But, they could’ve done it, if they’d really cared–not if they’d cared for the Hulk, but for the person who created the Hulk; not if they cared for Spider-Man, but if they’d cared for Steve Ditko. They could’ve protested, just once–even if that was only by not buying comics that were substandard or had got ugly practices with how their creators were handled. The whole of the industry, from top to bottom, does have a certain amount of responsibility for its decline.

This is the voice of a man who knows what is truly good for comics. People read Warren Ellis’ Do Anything  and discard it as half-baked philosophy. These same folks  write off The Dark Knight Strikes Again  as Frank Miller’s failed attempt to recapture greatness (anyone who’s read Eisner/Miller understands that FM was deliberately refuting his past work). And I’m sure that Alan Moore’s most recent comments will be shrugged off, explained away as the “semi-coherent musing of a fucked up snake-deity worshipping old man.”

Actually, that explanation isn’t wrong. But neither is Alan Moore.

Looking at October’s comic releases, I realized that with Justice League of America #38 comes a new creative team. While writer James Robinson and artist Mark Bagley are hardly strangers to the DC Universe (or the members of its most prominent team), it will still be interesting to see whether or not they can make their run on the title meaningful – for one reason or another, I feel like most creators lose sight of the importance of telling well-balanced, team-oriented stories when given the JLA-reins.

In fact, I haven’t consistently read Justice League of America since the conclusion of Brad Meltzer’s brilliant thirteen-issue relaunch of the series. Meltzer knew how to guide his artists through stories of epic confrontation while still maintaining a down-to-earth, personal tone. To me, this is what the “big team” books should be all about: putting iconic figures in over-the-top, the end is nigh scenarios in order to depict struggles to which the normal guy can relate.

So as I conjured up this mission statement for super-team titles, I tried to think of another example of team-done-right. Rifling through Caffeine Powered’s library, I eventually stumbled across JLA #61. Only vaguely remembering this issue, I had to reread it a couple of times before deciding that it is another exemplar.

This 2002 book is a perfect beginning to the collaboration between writer Joe Kelly and penciller Doug Mahnke. [While Kelly led JLA through its ninetieth issue and then disappeared from my radar, Mahnke has been blowing my mind as of late. Check out his work on Green Lantern if you get the chance]. Plot-wise, the self-contained JLA #61 takes the reader through a giant battle that involves monsters, Gods, Abra Kadabra and even sees Kyle Rayner dissecting five miles of seaboard with his fruity-ring. In short — the book succeeds in creating a problem that requires seven of the all-time greatest superheroes.

But where the issue really shines is in its highlighting of each teammate as a relatable human being (or Martian/Kryptonian/Goddess — but you get my point). From the primary battle the narrative flashes back to the two-minute warning, that time in which the JLA alert signal rings out its warning.

Instead of Superman, the reader sees Clark Kent eating dinner with his wife; Green Lantern is unadorned artist Kyle Rayner, struggling to pay for a cup of coffee; in place of the Flash is Wally West, hyperactive multi-tasker desperately looking for another minute in the day; Martian Manhunter’s constantly linked mind is observed in one of its rare states of unconscious meditation; fanatical Bruce Wayne makes business calls as he helps Diana prepare for perfection, and the typically zany Plastic Man soberly fields a phone call at his office.

Hell, even the King of Atlantis’ vacated throne is seen as the JLA discuss the recently-departed Aquaman. This issue bleeds personality and heart, thereby making these otherwise inhuman characters worthwhile emotional investments.

No, I don’t expect every team-based comic book to contain the sentiment of Touched by an Angel. Nor would I want it to. But, it is nice to think that throwing together the most marketable properties into one franchise isn’t always done in the name of producing inane pieces of visual masturbation.

Unless, of course, you could convince Frank Miller and Jim Lee to work together. Oh wait.

But I guess we’ll have to wait until October to see what Robinson and Bagley bring us.

Ben Templesmith’s original art, found via Warren Ellis’ blog. Templesmith is rad, and is responsible for the art on such comic projects as 30 Days of Night and his collaboration with Lord Ellis, Fell.