Have I already written an intro where I apologise for it being a ‘quiet news week’ and then try to make light of the situation and appear witty and insightful by pretending that I know lots about the video game industry? I have? Damn. Well, somehow the games industry has managed to stay quiet throughout NYCC. Go figure. The nether realm is upon us and reality has collapsed into itself. I don’t believe in anything any more.

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[WEEKEND OPEN BAR: The one-stop ramble-about-anything weekend post at OL. Comment on the topic at hand. Tell us how drunk you are. Describe a comic you bought. This is your chance to bring the party.]

Once again our intrepid heroes are out there fighting the good fight.  So while Caff and Rendar are ingratiating themselves with the folks at Comicon, why don’t we have a chat.  Pull up a chair, its story time.

Death is all around you.  It will take you at some point.  When you are a child, you don’t know this.  Hell, if you did, you probably wouldn’t care all that much.  Death doesn’t have to be a bad thing.  It simply is a transition.  I’m sorry about getting all philosophical on you.  I always get this way around my birthday.  Also, I’ve had a few.  So, depending on when you read this, it may in fact be my birthday.  I suppose that’s true of any article I write.  Well, if its Saturday, October 13^th, then feel free to send along your birthday well wishes (Cheap Pop).  I’m not going to tell you all how old I am as that may kill any cool vibes I may have garnered, however I will say that it is the one year anniversary of my 30^th birthday.

Sorry for my digression, lets move on to this week’s Open Bar topic.  When did your childhood die?

Let me add a bit of perspective.  When you are a child, you have your perception of how the world works.  Specifically with you at the center, and everyone trying to please you like you’re Caligula.  However, in most cases, there is a world event that occurs that kind of snaps you out of this fantasy.  You start to see the world as a large organism that you are a part of rather than background noise.  As you slowly realize that if you disappeared, nothing would change on the large scale.  You then find yourself wondering what your place is in the world as opposed to wondering how the world would shape itself around you.  When you start to question your place in the world, your childhood is dead.

So, what global event killed your childhood?

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I’m phoning it in today.  I’ve had a busy week, I’ve been lacking sleep, and I’ve been straining to think of a good topic.  So I’m lobbing one in there.  Today I’m going to do my favorite urban legend creatures.  Bear in mind, I don’t believe in most of these … or probably any (with one exception), but the stories behind them are fascinating.

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What a weird and welcome development coming down the pipe. The RZA is following-up his first stab at directing by adapting Grant Morrison and Darick Robertson’s new comic book, Happy!. While I haven’t read the fucking comic book yet, having not gotten to the shelves recently, I’m like totally intrigued. Totally.

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You can almost feel the balls tightening and the labia clenching over at Warner Bros. While Avengers is raking in the glorious money stacks, their only viable comic book franchise just lost its director and lead. Not only that, but the mind behind the Marvel Movie Universe is the dude they nixed from helming a Wonder Woman flick. Alas. So WB is on their grind with the Justice League flick, hoping to ride some of the superteam zeitgeist. As they go to cast the son of a bitch, a familiar name is popping up in consideration for the Bruce Wayne Man.

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Check this shit out! Straight up Jurassic Park. I don’t know what we’re going to clone from this glorious preservation, but I am calling first dibs on riding it. Hell yeah! Buying my new riding crop. T-Rex. Giant spider. Don’t matter. I got firsties.

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This is the berries, right hurr. Jeffrey Broome has concocted a printable mask of the smarmy Borderlands 2 antagonist for us to all don with glee. Forget Guy Fawkes, it is all Handsome Jack. All the time.

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This episode finally had a character on the show suffer the realization that I did dozens of episodes ago. Deb is all like, “Harry was probably a puke-filled toilet of a Dad.” Even if you take away the idea that Dexter is interpreting Harry’s code through a blood-soaked curtain, why the fuck would a Dad ever drub up such a thing? All I know is that if I ever have a sociopathic kid, I probably won’t default to teaching him the right people to kill. I’ll probably start with therapy. Throw in some mind-massaging medications. See where that goes. I don’t have to worry about that, though. Whatever sort of child rears up out of my scrotum isn’t going to be a serial killer. He’ll be a manic depressive and lord willing I’ll try the same methods I would if he were a sociopath. Worst comes to worse he’ll end up like me, masturbating and playing video games. It’s a solid existence, if not a valorous one.

Maybe Harry just didn’t want to accept that the crying little duder he dragged out of a blood-filled shipping container was broken. His raw love for Dexter overrode what was an obvious need to rock whatever sort of healthcare provider he had and get his son a serious set of cognitive behavior therapeutics.

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There’re few things more depressing than watching creators lose the passion by which they were once driven. We’ve all seen it happen – the old dog, worn down by years spent chasing artistic success and financial stability and personal greatness, loses its love of the hunt. Instead of drawing fowl into the hunters’ scopes, these hounds are content with gum-delivering the birds that’ve already been blasted out of the sky.

And thus, we get comics and movies and music that get the job done, but without the zeal that we crave.

On the other hand, there’s nothing more beautiful than the sight of an up-and-comer in love with the creative process. This is the young pup who’s been told he’s too small for the hunt, but is just too damn scrappy to stay with the litter. So he puffs out his chest and snarls and barks as fiercely as he can. And just as he’s about to be dismissed by the tired hounds, the pup pounces on a swan from behind and rips out its goddamn jugular.

This is the image that comes to mind when I think of Giannis Milonogiannis.

Milonogiannis is a comics creator who’s making no small work of proving his worth to the pack. After being blown away by his contributions to PROPHET, I decided to investigate the other creations of the artist with the wonderfully-multisyllabic name. I was led to Old City Blues, the “cyberpunk police adventure” set in New Athens, 2048. I quickly devoured the first volume, and then went to the OCB website to feast upon the issues available online.

Gritty noir detectives, cybernetic mechs, car chases, discussions of consciousness – I just couldn’t get enough.

Hoping to satiate my rapacity, I contacted Giannis Milonogiannis and he was kind enough to answer some questions. Hit the hyperspace jump to check out this incredible young talent’s thoughts about his work, the current state of Greek comics, the digital/print discussion, and the process of seeking inspiration.

C’mon! Let’s join the hunt!

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Ms. Marvel in Avengers 2? Frak yeah. Carol Danvers is a goddamn fantastic character. As a hell of a strong female lead, she is just sort of lass that Whedon would gravitate towards. Here is hoping there is something to this rumor. Especially if Emily Blunt is in consideration. Coming out of Looper, make mine Blunt. Or something. Should probably just let that saying die.

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