Man, I ain’t read shit in two weeks. There’s comic books piling up on my computer desk at an increasingly rapid rate. They sit there, begging to be read. I tell them, “Shh children, I will attend to thee soon”, and then I return to whatever activity I am currently caught-up in. All of this shit started when I began my grad school classes last week and I actually had to read real things.

The fucking pile continues to increase in enormity, and then it begins to intimidate me. I’m all “Holy fucking shit, I have ten comics I have to read”, and I say to myself that I don’t want to short change them, so I say “I’ll read them when I’m not exhausted and resentful of the written word.” Apparently, the time when that occurs is never. Sure, I could be logical and just read one at a time but that makes too much sense.

The entire thing runs tandem with a desire to actually comprehend the shit I’m reading. Earlier last year, I realized a several of things. First that I read comic books and things in general way too quickly. And because of this, two things happen, I retain very little of what I’ve read over the long term, and I analyze even less. I thought it was something just particular to me, but I asked around and some of my friends shared the same plight. They read a lot, but what happens and to whom slips their mind quickly.

Of course, it’s all compounded by the fact that you have to wait an entire month for the next installment, and you’re reading ten or twenty titles at a time. Everything begins to blur and blend and the next thing you know, you’re thinking of Daredevil fighting Cyclops while Batman jacks it in the corner. And as far as actually picking apart what was going on in the comic books? I really wasn’t.

So I decided to do what a college professor and mentor of mine recommended back in the day, “Read more, less.” Spend more time reading less material, and thereby ingesting that shit more thoroughly. But of course, that shit takes way more time than rushing through an issue, checking out the epic fights and the snappy dialogue. As well it requires a bit more of a higher brain function, and for anyone who reads this column regularly, it is apparent I struggle at composing sentences that are halfway intelligible, and don’t contain the word “cock” or “cunt” every other noun.

So along the way, and adopting something my bro told me, I really only allow myself to read a comic book every half an hour or so. It stems from him telling everyone and anyone to only read one issue of Watchmen a day back when all of our friends were checking it out prior to the movie release. It made sense to me, and since then I try and give every comic book its own time. Maybe the actual reading won’t take a half an hour, but then I’ll sit there, and rework what happened in my head. Recall the main characters, ask myself what is going on thematically.

I may be doing this while writing something up, or while vegging out to a video game. But there’s a secondary ingestion that goes on after I eat up the comic book itself. And by god, the shit has worked. My memory retention has gone up, my appreciation for the underlying shit has increased, and I have found it way more fulfilling that I did prior to adopting this method.

And then grad school came in and fucked it all up.

I’ve found myself reading five-hundred pages a week, going over dense literature and scholarly articles, and by golly, it vexes my brain. When I throw three or four hours a day into the wind by reading something by Sarah Fielding, my brain is spent. My eyes hurt, and I can’t fathom staring at more pages or giving them worthwhile attention. So I say to myself, “I’ll get to them when I can give them the attention they deserve”, which it seems, is never, lately.

Maybe my entire process is too rigorous, especially for a guy who reads almost exclusively books featuring aliens named Clark and fascists named Bruce and genetic freaks named Scott Summers. Maybe I’m digging too deep into them, but I’ve always thought there was something to be said for what is being done in the more “mindless” comic books featuring the typical tired tropes and enormous muscles.

Interlude out, regularly scheduled vapidity will return next week.

Joe The Barbarian #1

Grant Morrison is one of my favorite bros rocking comics these days. I know he isn’t perfect, but that’s what unconditional love (fanboyism) is about: accepting your crushes with their warts and all. I still have no idea what the hell happened in Final Crisis, aside from Batman getting shot with some lasergun and being transported into the paleolithic age or some shit. However, one of my biggest butt-crushes is dropping a new comic this week, and I can’t help but fap vigorously at the idea of a new title by him.

Joey the Barbs follows a teenage kid thrown into some sort of fantasy world filled with ninja commandos and other absurdity. Whether it is typical teenage escapism, as Joe flees from a Dad felled by the war in Iraq and high school stress, or something more fantastical, I’m intrigued. I can’t remember Morrison writing something from the perspective of a teenager, but my brain is rotting at a ludicrous rate. Morrison’s wonderfully drugs-addled brain is sure to come up with some surreality. Here’s hoping that the plot is as comprehensible as the premise seems interesting.

Mighty Avengers #33

Oh Norman Osborn, you fucking bastard! Would you believe that an Avengers title finds Norman Obsorn being all sorts of dastardly, trying to wield the Cosmic Cube? Yeah, me either. Dude is as played out as Dane Cook, and sucks just as much. But so yeah, the fourteen Avengers teams seem to be grouping up together to try and stop the Iron Patriot, or some shit. Tired of the forty-five Avengers titles? Help is on the way, my dear child. After Siege, Marvel is canceling all the titles, and I assume stripping them down to one or two titles. Which is good, because it’s hard to keep track of what is going on these days in the Marvel Universe.

Even Hitler has no fucking clue what’s going on:

Read the rest of this entry »

[variant covers is a column every tuesday that breaks down the various titles coming out that week in the world of telekinesis and titty shots]

Siege #1
Marvel isn’t wasting any time this year. They’re straight-up kicking off the first publishing week of 2010 by rocketing straight into their magnum opus, Siege. In a staggering bout of dumb-assery, Norman Osborn has decide it is time to throw down with the lords of Asgard. I’m not sure what sort of excessive hubris you have to be packing to decide you want to fuck with the Gods, but apparently the voices in Osborn’s head have it. So Obsorn, and his douchebag brigade of cronies, the DARK AVENGERS are going to stomp right into Asgard and I assume, ultimately get tore the fuck up.

I’m sold.

At its simplest, Siege is an excuse for Marvel to have Osborn battle a bunch of deities, which seems to result in the fractured core Avengers getting back together and putting a stink on the Green Goblin’s face. It’s been such a long time since Stark and Rogers and Mr. Thor got together to lay thunder and shield and repulsor ray on a common enemy. Ever since Civil War, they’ve been spread out across a multitude of realms. Steve Rogers is straight trippin’ balls after getting shot into the plot of Slaughterhouse-5, Tony Stark has reduced himself to a vegetable, and Thor? I’m not really sure what he’s been up to.

Marvel is branding it as the culmination of seven years of plotline, and I’m ready for it baby. If I had to live another year with Norman Osborn running pretty much everything, I was going to rip out asshair and fashion a stankbeard. I’m hoping that Steve Rogers, fully minted in his body again, is like, you fucking guys let Norman Obsorn weasel his way into power? Talk about dropping the fucking ball! But seriously though. From the moment the Avengers all disassembled, into Civil War, into the death of Steve Rogers, into the most Secret of Invasions, into Dark Reign, it’s been one goddamn nightmare after another for the Marvel Universe. And not only that, but the complexity and burdersome nature of intertwining every title into some sort of endless, fatiguing Super Event has left me wistfully thinking of simpler days.

It’s Brian Marvel Bendis and the gorgeous art of Olivier Coipel throwing an epic showdown in Asgard, that is promising to strip down and simplify the Marvel Universe. I’m sold.

There’s nothing really else coming out in the Marvelverse that catches my eye this week. See, I refrained from saying “nothing else that is awesome coming out”, showing my wonderful growth as a human being and open minded comic book reader. However, Marvel last week did tease this gorgeous piece of Spider-Man artwork by Pasqual Ferry. Something serious is going down with Peter Parker this year! Go fucking figure! There’s always something big going on with him. Ever since that douche traded his marriage and memories of Mary Jane to Mephisto in exchange for saving Aunt May’s decaying, disgusting, propped-up-by-pills-and-preservatives-ass, I’d been down on the Emo Arachnid. Who makes that trade? May has like three good years left, and she’s wasting them by marrying the father of J. Jonah Jameson. Good work dude, your spider-ears have to hear the groans of old Aunt May backing that ass up for the father of the guy who absolutely hates you.

Orc Stain #1

Listen. I’m a geek who plays World of Warcraft, secretly wishes he was Gimli and listens to shit like Amon Amarth. Anything called Orc Stain is going to gain my attention. I feel like I have to champion it misguidedly on principle alone. It’s about an orc (duh) named Stain who has begun to see the cracks in orc existence and the endless wars they fight. It seems like social commentary to me, featuring an orc. Now I’m really sold. It’s by writer James Stokoe, and while I don’t know him because I’m ignorant and uneducated, better people may have read his work Wonton Soup, whose premise is that one of the galaxies best chefs leaves behind galactic acclaim to become a space trucker. Bizarre. And cool.

Superman World of New Krypton #11

I have no idea what’s going on in the world of Superman. I also have no idea why this title isn’t tying into Blackest Night. Was there some sort of break-down in office memos? I mean, you need to slap the Blackest Night title on that shit! Sells more copies! Black Lanterns are canvassing the entire cosmos, but they can’t roll up onto New Krypton? Wicked weird, yo. I’m just kidding. I’m glad they’re doing their own thing, and they haven’t been assimilated into the monolith event.

All I know is that Clark Kent has been framed for murder, and there’s some sort of conspiracy between Kryptonian guilds. I didn’t make that up, apparently New Krypton has been taken over by guilds, maybe because they play too much Warcraft and they’re like, we’re fucking superheroes, let’s form a guild. They sound so cool.

But seriously, who would ever believe Kal-El is a murderer? If the dude had some balls he would have punched the dumb head off of Lex Luthor eons ago. Dude definitely isn’t into Bentham and his utilitarian ethics. How many lives could you have saved, Clark, if you just mustered up one skull crush? Yeah, stand on your moral high ground. I’m sure there’s some mother whose child had their head stepped on by Metallo who probably disagrees with you and your high horse.

Just sayin’.

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. Read the rest of this entry »

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?

Read the rest of this entry »

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.

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.

Helllllllllll, yeah! I haven’t updated Search Engine Terms in a while. There’s been a bunch of good searches, but I was proud of this newest one.

Fucking in Superman Position! It’s well documented that I pioneered the Superman Fuck. Now we have like minded individuals looking for a home, wanting nothing more than to advance their sexual techniques. Well my friends, you’ve come to the correct place for fucking in various superhero positions.

Welcome!

I also want to give a shout out to Superman Cum Shots. I really want to meet the people who are down with such things. They’ll either be really cool, or they’ll trap me in their dungeon and rape me ruthlessly. Either way, I uh, win!

In case you missed all the crazy Warner Bros/DC restructuring last week, there’s this new entity called DC Entertainment. The head behind it is Diane Nelson. And apparently she has no plans to push through a Superman movie at the moment:

Via Slashfilm:

We’ve obviously done a lot of great things behind the property in our history, and it’s a key part of the family, but we don’t have current plans behind Superman.

So we have a Green Lantern movie in development staring fucking Van Wilder, but no one is working on a Superman movie? Something about this doesn’t compute. If I was Diane Nelson, I’d do two things. First, I’d get Mark Millar back into the DC Universe. I’d give him the keys to Superman. Because if anyone can make Clark Kent one-thousand percent awesome, it’s him. And then I’d make sure that there was a Superman movie put into production that doesn’t just use two-hours of film to slob on the knob of Christopher Reeves.

It’s simple: Make a film where Superman deals with the usual existential crisis, while getting to punch the crap out of something. Like Metallo, I don’t care. And someone please make Lex Luthor imposing. We have flying, relate-able internal strife, a machavelian villain, and a dude fighting a robot. Seriously, c’mon. Easy. It’ll make a zillion bucks. But uh, good luck with Green Lantern And the Emerald Dongs.

I’m such a douche with the Bat-puns, I know. I can’t help it.

When I found out that Frank Quitely was leaving Batman and Robin for a spell after his initial arc, I was bummed out. But then I heard Philip Tan was taking over, and I breathed a sight of relief. Well, DC has announced that Cameron Stewart is taking over with issue #7, following Tan. It’s good news abound! I’m always weary of creative turn-overs on title. Suddenly the design, and perspective you’ve been used to shift, and sometimes for the worse. But Stewart’s promo art is gorgeous, and I’m looking forward to seeing what the dude can do.

Dig the gorgeous promo, and check out Stewart’s blog for other general coolness.