File Under: I do so few of these that I'm entitled...


You are Paul Krugman! You're a brilliant economist
with a knack for both making sense of the
current economic situation and exposing the
Bush administration's lies about it. You
somehow came out as the best anti-war writer on
the Op-Ed staff. Other economists hate your
guts for selling out to the liberals. To hell
with 'em.


Which New York Times Op-Ed Columnist Are You?
brought to you by Quizilla

Oh nos!


The Target Scooter Mafia!

So, you'll notice I've not written about the funnybooks for a few days now. I can't focus on any one thing I'm reading right now - I've been reading an issue's worth of that new Kirby Jimmy Olsen trade each night before popping off to sleep and the things I've read have either been already commented upon by me (Bighead and Hutch Owen) or have set the internet message boards alight (Identity Crisis) so that any commentary by me is just shy of being completely superfluous.

I should note that at this point, I'm not sure if I care who the IC killer is - I'm impressed by Metzler's skill as a writer. Much like Mamet, it's watching the story unfold in a professional manner that's giving me the greatest pleasure. Last issue had two very writerly scenes. The first being the Atom and his ex-wife - that felt organic and showed that Metzler understands character over characterization, which means he's at least passingly familiar with McKee's Story, which Aaron beat me into purchasing and I've not thanked him enough since. Secondly, the tension built in the issue's finale with Jack Drake, Oracle, and Robin is razor-sharp. You can tell Metzler understands what the difference is between involving your reader's emotions and emotionally manipulating them. No wasted space in any of this story so far, either - there's never any padding to make it feel "bigger" and each issue, so far, has been packed with dialogue if not, apparently, clues.

OK, that's enough comic fan pretension for the moment. Now, onto more important things.

Vote. On. November. Second. Do not let the right wing lie to you about your registration. Do not let the president use computers to make a rally look larger than it is while Kerry (admittedly with a little help from The Boss) got somewhere in the neighborhood of 100,000 people to show up at his rally in Madison without making them sign loyalty oaths. If you know someone who is afraid to vote because of things like this, take them to the poll yourself. Do you want four more years of financial, diplomatic, and social disaster or do you want a return to real compassion and progressive values that mean your life is yours to live?

So, those 380 tons of explosives that the White House has flipped and flopped on? Well, see, they really do exist.

Nice one. The Terrorists don't need to win - we're losing this on our own, thanks.

Memetic Attack: Z-A Breakdown
Z- Zodiac sign: Leo
Y- Yummy food: General Gau's Chicken
X- X-rays you've had: Teeth. Lungs because of Asthma.
W- Wearing right now: Dark green sweater, t-shirt featuring Godzilla under it, black boxer briefs, khakis, wool socks, Merrills.
V- Voting for: Kerry/Edwards. For real.
U- Unknown fact about me: I've never broken a bone despite years of clumsy falls and idiotic moves.
T- Time you wake up: 8-ish if left to my own devices.
S - Song you last heard: "Above And Beyond" by PHD and the Funky Technicians, from Logical Progression Volume 1.
R- Reason to smile: Despite my assholery, I do have the best friends on the planet.
Q- Quote you like: "It's a great big disco world." - Kurt, Information Society.
P- Phobia[s]: Clowns. Puppets, especially marionettes. Heights when I have no clear support system.
O- One time by accident: I may or may not have caused a critical computer system at a workplace to crash.
N- Number of siblings: 1. My older brother, Jack.
M- Mom's name: Elizabeth Ann
L- Love to watch this movie over and over again: Free Enterprise, Star Trek II, and Wet Hot American Summer.
K- Kindergarten reminds you of: "Needs help with scissors."
J- Job title: Content Manager.
I- Instruments: CD Player. Sequencer.
H- Hometown: Paris, TN. I call Newnan, GA "Home" though.
G- Gummy Bears or Gummy Worms: Gummy bears.
F- Favorite song of all time: Um. "Being boring." by the Pet Shop Boys or "When I Kiss You (I Hear Charlie Parker Playing)" by Sparks. Then there's "Eleanor Rigby" by the Beatles.
E- Easiest person to talk to: Kristin, Kari, Christina, Doug, Aaron, Josh, and many others. I have, as I said, the best friends on the planet. If you're not on this list, it's OK. I love you and value you anyway.
D- Dad's name: Billy Jack. (Originally Billie Jack on his birth certificate!)
C- Career in future: Writer.
B- Band listening to right now: Seba and Lotek.
A- Age: 30

Halley's Comet.

Red Sox World Championships.

You can make the connection, right?

Now to tell all the herds thundering past Chez Beaucoup to knock it off so I can sleep in a bit.

Tiny photoset. Morning walk from Park Street, across the common and Public Gardens, down Newbury.

(20:36:06) karen'sAIMid: (and don't tell anyone but i was listening to christmas songs before i was listening to alice cooper)
(20:36:27) beaucoupkevin: I may just put that in my blog!
(20:36:48) karen'sAIMid: you threaten me with your blog an awful lot
(20:36:51) karen'sAIMid: i dare you.
(20:36:57) karen'sAIMid: i double dare you.
(20:37:05) karen'sAIMid: i double DOG dare you.

Ladies and Gentleman:
My friend Karen was listening to Christmas music in October. For God's sake, don't be like her. There's so much in the way of web radio out there that means you needn't succumb to the succubus that is that "Sleigh Ride" song prior to December. Please, if you're listening to Christmas music now, get help. If you know someone that is doing this, get them help.

Appendum:
Moments later, I get this...
(20:43:00) karen'sAIMid: i really am afraid to tell you what i'm listening to.
(20:43:14) beaucoupkevin: What is it?
(20:43:35) karen'sAIMid: well, now it's colin hay but it was...
(20:43:40) karen'sAIMid: counting crows.

For the price of less than a cup of coffee a day, you can send Karen a CD of music that isn't utterly worthless. Think about this. Give what you can now, before it gets worse. Colin Hay is a step in the right direction. Let's show her the rest of the way, together.

Mouse On Mars with Ratatat and Junior Boys. October 25, 2004.

Frankly, I'm not happy with a lot of these photos. Digital zoom bites the big one. I need to start thinking about a camera upgrade.

From the lovely and intelligent (OK, I can only confirm the latter, but I presume the former is true if she's 1/100th as attractive as she is smart) Heidi MacDonald, I give you the single image that may well redeem Alex Ross to my tired-of-seeing-the-ultrarealistic-superheroes-already eyes:



That's a Village Voice cover right there.

For all those who're probably going to post in my comments: No, I don't hate America. I love America. I just hate what Bush is doing to this place. Poor analogy time - it's like letting the thieves upgrade bank security procedures. "Well, you're going to need an ultra-laser mesh over that window (Dick! Hey, Dick! Dick, get in there and grab me a couple thou real fast!) and you're going to wanna look at new motion sensor setup in the lobby (And get me a lollypop, man!) while thinking about a pressure unit on the floor. This is a strategery that will save you money from them robbers that you heard about what robbed that bank across the state. (Dick, I wanna yeller one!)"

Report from tonight's Mouse On Mars show at The Middle East in Cambridge:

Junior Boys were decent. Reminded me of a much-less-emo Postal Service, so they were pretty straight synthpop with some dark tones. To be fair, I did only catch the last three songs of their set. They may have been performing as a boy-band before that point.

Ratatat were not, sadly, a RATT cover band. This disappointed me more than anything else. Most of their songs were pretty samey-samey, - heavy beat, fuzz guitars, sequenced tracks - except for the last, beautifully stretched out, ambient piece that could have gone on for another ten minutes with no complaints.

Mouse On Mars rocked the hizzy. Playing exclusively from their last three proper albums, they managed to knock out two of my favorite tracks back to back, get the guitarist from Ratatat on stage, "rock out," and then do some reggae.

I am not making that up. Germans. Doing. Reggae. Go figure.

Non-musical highlight of the evening for me was when the Junior Boys guy said "OK, up next is Ratatat, and then Mouse On Mars WHOO!" Three or four people clapped and cheered at that.

"Oh, come on! I think they're pretty great! Let's try that again! We've got Ratatat and then Mouse On Mars!" Maybe ten of the hipsters in the crowd deign to show some enthusiasm. That's when I had to say something.

"They're fucking metal!" I informed the singer while throwing the horns like Our Lord And Savior.

Everyone cheers and the dude goes "Rock ON!" before throwing said horns back to me. I'm a rocker, I rock out.

Photos up this afternoon, if I get a chance.

Larry Young's AiT/PlanetLAR has done it again. Rob Osbourne's new book, 1000 Steps To World Domination is just shy of genius. Taken from previously-released minicomics, this handsome square-bound collection details Rob's efforts to stop being just a guy who draws funnies at night while working as a sales assistant to being complete master of the world through comics. Osbourne's self-effacing humor is never too cloying or "aw, shucks, look at me," and the scenes with his wife made me laugh out loud. His art, like many creators who've gotten pushed through to AIT, isn't right for DC or Marvel, but is perfect for this sort of storytelling. In a near-German show of efficiency, his pages usually stuck to a four-panel layout, which reads quickly and there's a neat subliminal kick when he shifts to a different layout for the occasional appearance from God or the Monkey.

Yes, there's a monkey in it. I know what you're thinking. Shut up. That's not the only reason I like this. I listed a few others. C'mon, man. Cut me some slack.

In conclusion (how bad is a "review" if they break out this hoary old chestnut?), this is a testament to one man's attempt at following his dreams. As I recently left a decent-paying software sales gig to make pennies writing (and I'm much happier, if poorer,) I can empathize pretty heavily with Osbourne. For $13, you could do a lot worse than this.

When I was a kid, I'd occasionally play baseball with my fellow youths. I was poor at it, of course. Unless it involves repeatedly hitting buttons, I'm not great with feats of physical skill to this day. Anyway, the variation we played had five methods by which I player hitting or on base could be termed out.

• Striking out.


• A hit being caught.


• Being thrown out.


• Being tagged out.


• Being hit by the ball after the defensive player threw it at you. If they hit you in the head, that was end of inning, no matter what.

I'm amazed I lived past 10.

Thanks to the magic of p2p, I have managed to find clean (as in not DJ mixed) copies of some of my favorite old dance records. I would eagerly buy these on CD if they weren't long out of print and fetching stupid money when they showed up on eBay, but that's me being fiscally responsible or something(!!) instead of the trainspotter I was for years. As I owned most of them on vinyl, I feel not completely awful about getting copies off the hard drives of people spread over our planet. Besides, if the record companies wanted my money on these tracks, they'd put them back in print. Hint. Hint.

First up, the jump up / jungle batch:
When you hear that someone has snatched a simulacrum of "Moonlight Sonata," thrown a bunch of beats under it that clatter and roar at a fair clip and included a bassline that eats babies, you suspect it's going to be crap. DJ SS's "The Sound Of The Future" (Lighter VIP Mix) does that and is not crap at all. The melodic line he sets up with the bass is incredible and when it pauses, you catch your breath to dive further into the dense, claustrophobic layers. Class.

DJ Hype's "Fugees Or Not" never got a proper release - I imagine the record label would have extorted a ransom out of him for the deft use of "Ready Or Not" by the now-defunct titular act. Rolling a fair clip and building before everything goes quiet and Lauren Hill's gorgeous voice runs through the chorus once before his trademark jump-up beats pound under her and the bass pops you in the mouth, this is a record you'd hear two or three times in a night and never get sick of back in "the day."

"The S the U the P the E the R the S the H the A the R the P the S the H the O the O the T the E the R." Yes, "Super Sharp Shooter" by The Ganja Kru really raises the level for lyricism in dance music with the Sesame Street style intro and that cheap, nasty synth melody doesn't really endear itself to you, but...then it happens. The tightly controlled beats suck you in and you're being kicked in the ass by the bassline while samples give your forebrain something to focus on. This one holds up brilliantly.

Now, The Cheese Handbag Fun Batch:
Ah, Stretch & Vern. "I'm Alive" is so, so, so, so wrong but with its high-ended clipped piano line and the goofball samples, you can't help yourelf. It's the Jim Carrey movie you shouldn't laugh at. It's the sex with a Malaysian hooker you shouldn't have sex with. It's a bad idea. It's pure 1995, complete with builds out of the secret dance manual that was passed around to producers then. It's either genius or shit, depending on how off your tits you are. Pet Shop Boys fans may well recognize this as the inspiration for the "New Version" of "Discoteca."

"Fox Force Five" by Chris and James is an "Oh my god, I like this and I feel like I should report to the RNC headquarters for further programming" record. It's not very clever at all - taking cues from about a million other progressive records, it starts with strings, builds with the usual pace, the beats push things right along in a purely functional manner, but then...you hear the voice of Samuel L Jackson. It's a cheap tactic, sampling Pulp Fiction, but it works. Not very good for listening with your headphones while reading, but I bet it sounds great on a summer day.

Anyone else using P2P to not pirate current hot stuff, but grab out of print records like me?

The Nation presents a list of 100 stone-cold, completely non-disputable facts about the Bush administration. There's also one opinion.

The most chilling one, even for his ardent supporters, has to be:
12. After receiving a memo from the CIA in August 2001 titled "Bin Laden Determined to Attack America," President Bush continued his monthlong vacation.

Source: CNN.com

Mark posts an ad for one of my recently-mentioned neglected DC comics titles. That's desktop wallpaper material there.

Today is the day of good media.

First of all, Hunter S Thompson reports on the election:

Richard Nixon looks like a flaming liberal today, compared to a golem like George Bush. Indeed. Where is Richard Nixon now that we finally need him?

If Nixon were running for president today, he would be seen as a "liberal" candidate, and he would probably win. He was a crook and a bungler, but what the hell? Nixon was a barrel of laughs compared to this gang of thugs from the Halliburton petroleum organization who are running the White House today -- and who will be running it this time next year, if we (the once-proud, once-loved and widely respected "American people") don't rise up like wounded warriors and whack those lying petroleum pimps out of the White House on November 2nd.

Nixon hated running for president during football season, but he did it anyway. Nixon was a professional politician, and I despised everything he stood for -- but if he were running for president this year against the evil Bush-Cheney gang, I would happily vote for him.

You bet. Richard Nixon would be my Man. He was a crook and a creep and a gin-sot, but on some nights, when he would get hammered and wander around in the streets, he was fun to hang out with. He would wear a silk sweat suit and pull a stocking down over his face so nobody could recognize him. Then we would get in a cab and cruise down to the Watergate Hotel, just for laughs.

Jeffrey Brown's superhero epic, Bighead came out. Glancing at the inside, it's typical Brownian genius - it looks like a kid drew it, it's amateurish as all hell, but he's in complete control the whole time.

Also from Top Shelf, Tom Hart's scathing Hutch Owen is collected, but I am pretty sure I ordered that from Diamond's STAR system. There's another collection due out in November - Hutch Owen: Unmarketable. You know how Mallard Fillmore (and oftentimes Tom Tomorrow) fails to be anything but strident and unfunny? This is the complete opposite. Hate how Bush and Pals let corporations run rampant? Hutch is your man.

Of supreme interest is the second volume of Jimmy Olsen Adventures by Jack Kirby. My favorite run on a comic ever is now completely collected. If you don't have Volume One, pick them both up. You'll see so many insane ideas that were at least 20 years ahead of their time and Jack was, as always, unbeatable.

I've read the lastest issue of Identity Crisis. Wow. If someone could tell me what was up with Firestorm and his identity for this issue, I'd appreciate it. (See, I'm being vague, but if that is Ronnie, somebody needs to give me an explanation.)

An Open Letter To Red Sox Fans Across New England

Hey, Guys!

Yeah, what a game last night, huh? The Yankees really weren't the threat they wanted to be and Damon made up for some shockingly inept performance earlier in the series. Good going, everyone.

Now here's a few things we need to go over before this goes any further:

• The Yankees have officially "sucked it" so you can take that "Yankees Suck" shirt off your two-year-old.


• "We" didn't do much. The Boston Red Sox, a professional baseball team, won the American League Championship Series. You just watched the game.


• While I do appreciate the sentiment, I find it remarkable that you people in Boston can't find the brakes or turn signal while driving in broad daylight, but that horn is the first thing you reach for in your car when you decide to go for a drive at two in the morning to "celebrate."


• Celebrating your preferred team's win is perfectly acceptable. Getting arrested for it is just plain stupid.


• No, really, that Red Sox cap does not make you a member of the team, so stop saying "we!"

Now that I've gotten those out of the way, let's hope they can break that "curse" and show the Cards / Astros what for in the Series.

BeaucoupKevin

[BEGIN WHINING]
Note To Self:

Writing ¼ of a page ≠ writing a comic script today.

Ass. You had a paid day off and took no advantage of it.

[END OF WHINING]

With Halloween coming, I offer you the chance to click to see the best costume ever.

(Found via a friend of a friend of a friend.)

James Ellroy. He writes. Three, four word sentences gutpunching you. New book's out. Destination: Morgue! is the name. Check it - 14 fiction and non fiction pieces about LA. Most collected from magazines like GQ, some not published. I got it today. First piece is on Boxing. Dig it.

M was patient enough to let me take a ton of pictures of her on Saturday. I'm rather proud of them.

Special thanks to SeanB for setting up the image hosting. I owe you some beers or a mix CD.

Alice did a meme that I support. After reading this, go post poetry on your blog / LJ / bathroom wall / whatever.

A Style Of Loving by Vikram Seth

Light now restricts itself
To the top half of trees;
The angled sun
Slants honey-colored rays
That lessen to the ground
As we bike through
The corridor of Palm Drive.
We two

Have reached a safety the years
Can claim to have created;
Unconsummated, therefore
Unjaded, unsated.
Picnic, movie, ice cream;
Talk; to clear my head
Hot buttered rum - coffee for you;
And so not to bed.

And so we have set the question
Aside, gently.
Were we to become lovers
Where would our best friends be?
You do not wish, nor I
To risk again
This savored light for noon's
High joy or pain.

(This is from All Those Who Sleep Tonight, which I've read about 30 times. A wonderful collection that I can't recommend highly enough. This does, of course, have significant personal meaning, but it's also just a sublime piece of work. After finding this in high school, I made a few clumsy, inelegant attempts at poetry. We don't talk about that unfortunate phase.)

Make With The Click.

Watched a really great episode of The American Experience about the Joe Louis / Max Schmeling bouts while the Sox game dragged on and on. It reminded me I needed to put this image up - this is my single favorite comic of all time. Beautifully drawn by Neil Adams (yeah, him again), this is such a perfect portrait two of the most influential heroes of my youth. To find out more, click here for a really well-done look at this epic.

The only reason I am up this late is to find out whom I can blame for the riots and looting that will leave this fair city burning - the Red Sox or the Yankees.

Update @ 1:15 (Top of the 12th) - The announcer just said "The one thing the Red Sox can not afford right now is to have a pitcher go down on them." I thought about glory holes and such. Please. Let. This. Game. End.

Update @ 1:18 (Commercial Break) - I flip to a program called The George Michael Sports Machine. Hello, irony. Are you trying to tell me something?

Update @ 1:20 (Bottom of the 12th) - Yes, guys, slapping the wall rhythmically in such a way as it could distract your preferred team's batter is a fabulous idea. I can tell you were in the Gifted Program in school.

Update @ 1:22 (Bottom of the 12th) - I think the Yankee's pitcher seems to believe he's playing cricket.

Update @ 1:23 - Ortiz earned his damned paycheck with a home run that means there's a game 5.

Update @ 1:26 - I celebrate for a brief moment before realizing that the Red Sox only have to screw up one game whereas the the Yankees can screw up three before they're not able to go to the World (ha!) Series.

Make it big. Click it.

The stuff inside is your standard "Imaginary Story" from the period, but wow, that's what we call a cover. (Once again, Neil Adams. I know.)

So, I got some spam. I get quite a lot, but this was for a Christian dating site and I was bored. Now, I don't really require the service, but I decided to cut and paste the URL into my browser to find out what the hell a Christian dating site looks like. (Don't worry - that's a screen shot .jpg. I'd never send you beloved readers into the gaping void where only I dare tread.)

Now, it certainly looks like they're following the advice of Ecclesiastes 10:19, which states Wine maketh merry: but money answereth all things. Check out this tidbit...



I guess that they think that the "poor" don't deserve such luxuries as another fine Christian with which they could spend prayer time, do they? We wouldn't want to help the person making $24,000 in a small town on Ohio to find someone to share their life. Sure, they're not rich, this theoretical person, but they're not shaking a can on the corner. Apparently, this site's "Christian" founders have ignored one particular quote from Proverbs (31:9, if you're curious): Speak up and judge fairly; defend the rights of the poor and needy. Isn't there a circle in hell for people who do this sort of thing?

Click=big.

Soon, Superman really would have to make sure that he was the last survivor of Krypton.

I swear, Maggie does some things just to see if she can make me pee myself.

She also turned me onto this musician that I can't get enough of. My Bloody Valentine meets stretched out ambience meets something else. Unique, and quite wonderful.

There's only one Comics Journal. It's an important magazine and about the only "intellectual" look at the medium that is out there covering current comics. You've got Comic Book Artist, and its "new" focus is good, but the magazine's late shipping schedule has put me off, even with great material on a variety of subjects. (Editor Jon B. Cooke reported in the lastest issue that he's had a bad year - I sympathize, man, but please, you gotta get back on the stick!) Back Issue gets a fair number of things right, even if it seems to pander to the superhero fanboy more than I'd like. And don't even get me started on Alter Ego, which is getting more and more unreadable as fewer and fewer Golden and Silver Age writers artists are left that will let Roy Thomas give them analingus for an interview. I finally dropped it in the middle of last year, and I really don't miss it.

Anyway, back to the Journal. It does a lot of things I really like - the two most recent issues have had interviews and articles focusing on Alex Toth, Ed Brubaker, the Eisners, great reprints of out-of-copyright comics, and a great look at Marvel's X-Men franchise under Morrison. But then there's the vast amount of stuff I don't care about. Reviews of art comics that really don't appeal to me because of my immature tastes or my strange desire for actual storytelling or the fact I have no real interest in somebody's diary or poorly-constructucted rant. (Ironic comments can be left below.) Tiny minicomics that six people get to see that are, at best, amateurish. Slamming on Drawn And Quarterly in a really...infantile manner that leads into my next point. They really, really make their bias towards their own publishing concern known.

In their collective mind, Fantagraphics seems to publish the only truly great comics nowadays, while everyone else, even other publishers working in the same niche, seems incapable of ever even hoping to gaze upon the ivory tower that is Gary Groth publishing concern. It's annoying, to say the least. I'm not going to act like Fantagraphics hasn't printed many great comics. You just need to look at Love and Rockets and Hate and certainly The Complete Peanuts, which is probably the best reprint project that's not related to me getting more comics drawn by Kirby. But Jesus, guys. Giving Steve Brodner a 20-page color interview section the month before his Freedom Fries book comes out? I thought Wizard had balls when they kept interviewing Mark Waid and Garth Ennis for their Black Bull line of comics. Such a well-done magazine, but I really don't know if the latest issue was worth the $10 price tag for me.

In happier news, here's our next president taking a break.

Clicking makes this big and stuff

Superman #400 is a heap of fun. Lots of great pinups (including one by Jack Kirby that was inked by Terry Austin and, oddly, a little disappointing, but still, they didn't tweak the face for once), an amazing array of talent obviously having a blast telling some tangentally-linked stories, and that lovely Chaykin cover putting it all together? They don't do comics like this anymore.

The last batch of reader questions for this round...

Jeremy has a really good one: "Best decision-maker for the indecisive...?
a) flipping a coin;
b) rolling dice;
c) magic 8-ball;
d) other (please list)"
Oh, wow. I don't know. Let me break out my twenty-sided dice and pick A if it lands on 1, 4, 9, 12, or 18; B if it lands on 2, 8, 11, 15, or 17; C if it lands on 3, 10, 16, or...oh, forget it. I choose D, which is cockpunching a right-wing conservative and basing your decision on whether they land on their knees, knees and hands, side, or back.

Sam wonders "What is the deal with The Hulk and how did you come up with the idea of doing a blog for the guy?"
I worked at Upromise when I started both blogs. As TV's Spatch can tell you, there were long dry spells and the bosslady seemed to have a real issue with sending people home. Bored comic book nerd who loved how Toyfare presented the Hulk + The Internet. You can see the convergence happening, can't you?

Maggie wants to know "Were the first four entries of Hulk's blog grey?"
Maggie, I must demand you marry me. I do not care about your prior commitments.

Christina demands: "Which are better, Canadians, Brits, or Russians?" and then amends it with "Wait, make that Germans instead of Russians."
I emailed you the "real" answer. I like them in approximately the same order you list them. I have known great examples of three, bad examples of two.

Mark H is curious about my appellation: "What's with the "beaucoup"? The French tongue, it offends me."
Underworld had an album called Beaucoup Fish that I love to pieces and I changed my BBS handle to reflect that. It had previously been Sappys Curry, based on another Underworld song. Someone called me Beaucoup Kevin one day and it sounded better than Fish Church, so...

Doug has a trifecta, like before:
Who's more annoying: Jimmy or Rick Jones?
Rick. Jesus, Rick. Gah, I hate him. Jimmy's one of those characters I'd love to write.

Which is your favorite Avengers lineup?
The Roger Stern run in the 80s had a great lineup of second-stringers with a few of Marvel's best - Cap and Thor lead the team with people like the Wasp, the female Captain Marvel, Hercules, etc providing manpower. While not a die-hard fan of The Avengers, I think it should have a balance between the Big Guns and the Guys That Couldn't Hold Their Own Book.

What's the real ending to the Matrix series like?
It's not all solved with punching Agent Smith, I tell you what.

Click to make big.

My name is BeaucoupKevin, and I approve this cover. In fact, I think it is awesome.

(That is a joke for like three of you out there. The rest can find out more at this site.)

Anyway, lovely Neal Adams cover, fun story that got undone after a while.

Now, I'm not really a sports fan. I've got enough going on that sports are just something I can't devote enough time or energy to following. I'll watch ten or fifteen minutes of a baseball game, maybe thirty of a good hockey matchup, but I get bored easily. There's no gunplay, no guys in capes, or something else that I'm looking for in my physical contests.

But I am a fan of Pedro Martinez. He's an affable guy who always seems to give the best press and my favorite recent event is his having recently decided to cart around a 28-inch-tall Dominican midget named Nelson de la Rosa around as a good luck charm while wearing swimming goggles. He did made what I'd call a dreadful mistake in the last month or so, causing a stir after telling reporters after a loss to New York that "I just tip my hat and call the Yankees my daddy." This may not have been the best idea. You know people from New York. They love to pick on someone, especially if it's a baseball related thing since they've won, I dunno, every World Series ever since 1916.

Immediately, Yankees fans seized upon this like a bully who found out you wet your pants in the fourth grade because Tommy Doyle scared you when he jumped out of the closet. (Shudup. He was wearing a Yoda mask.) "Who's your daddy?" found itself slathered on t-shirts that were sold, for a very brief time, on the Major League Baseball site, quoted by hundreds and then thousands of sports wags, and finally last night during the American League Championship Series, it reached its apotheosis. 60,000 plus people chanting "Whooooo's your daaaaaddy?" at a lone pitcher from a small island nation must be daunting, but Pedro took it in stride, telling reporters after the game (which the Sox lost, I might add):

"You know what? After all this, they're going to say Pedro lost. Pedro won, actually. I got to show everyone I believe in God. They were chanting, 'Who's my daddy?' My biggest daddy is the one that brought me over from the mango tree to the biggest stage in world."

You heard it here first - Pedro Martinez is Christ reborn. I will say that he did show a good deal of grace with this second quote, which is slightly less out-there, talking about the chanting:

"It actually made me feel really, really good. I actually realized I was somebody important because I caught the attention of 60,000, plus you guys, plus the whole world watching.

"If you could reverse my world, go back 15 years ago, I was sitting under a mango tree without 50 cents to pay for a bus. Now I was the center of attention in the whole city of New York. I don't like to brag about myself, but they did make me feel important.

"Maybe because I'm with the Red Sox, I feel so thankful they got my attention, and I got their attention."

While it's obvious that English is his second language, there's a lot of heart being shown there. I just wish Curt Schilling hadn't gotten his ankle wrecked - I loved the idea of an insane Dominican and a slightly-pudgy 39-year-old leading the Sox postseason.

Three quick photosets. Clicking takes you to their page.


Chinatown.


Cape Cod. (Make sure you see page 2.)



Comicazi.

Clicking makes big.

One of my favorite Superman stories, containing so many guest appearances and emotional beats. If you want it read it, you can find it online here or by buying the excellent Superman In The Sixties .

You've got questions. I've got answers.

Josh, again:
Boxers or briefs? Paper or plastic? Plastic boxers or paper briefs?
Holograms.

Doug's got a trilogy of terror:
What's your favorite run on a comic?
Favorite Run: Damn, that's hard. I can pick two easily - Kirby's Jimmy Olsen run for his completely mental reassembly of the component parts and Miller's Born Again (or Year One. Damn. This is tough.)

Favorite Single Issue:
Superman vs Muhammad Ali. Seriously. That or Fantastic Four #51, "This Man, This Monster"

Least favorite comic of all time?
New Mutants - whichever issue Rob Liefeld started with. Fuck you, Liefeld.

Who needs a good cockpunching?
Rob Liefeld. George W Bush. Dick Cheney. Whoever came up with those new Old Navy Ads where people get Denim Fever Or Whatever.


Maggie goes straight to the nerd in me:
Pick one: Byrne/Claremount/Cockrum (please show your work)
Ugh. You know what, I admire Cockrum's body of work, but he's not my favorite artist. Byrne's such a pretentious twat that even if I like his Fantastic Four, I'd add him to the Cockpunch list, right next to Claremont. Ugh, ugh, ugh. Cockrum. OK. Yeah.


Amy, outside of being my separated twin, demands:
What's your favorite Gibson novel? If, of course, it isn't Neuromancer.
Pattern Recognition. Damn, I loved that book

Katie (which one? I know at least four) wants to know:
What is your favorite season in Boston? How about where you grew up? (I realize it's probably gorgeous out there right now, treewise).
Fall in both places. This has been a bit more melancholic of a season for me than usual, but it's still got some lovely moments.

Aaron decides to avoid asking me about my sexual proclivities (monstrous and fearsome, lad) with this excellent question:
After Jack, Will Eisner, and Steve Ditko, and putting Bob Kane, Joe, and Jerry in a distinct category who would you say are the five NEXT most important comics artists/creators of all time?
Most Important (Not Counting My Personal Tastes) In No Particular Order:
1. Howard Chaykin
2. Todd McFarlane
3. Joe Kubert
4. Jack Cole
5. Frank Miller
Special bonus to Rob Liefeld for proving even a spastic who drew with his mouth with no concept of what constitutes a deadline could get a deal

and some comments from previous post...

Dann wants to know:
How did I miss this the first time around?
You were high on glue again, looking for references to the Illuminati

How do I get your replies to my comments mail to me?
You can't. You have to read my damn blog.

When are you going to add my ass to your collaborators list?
I dunno. Whenever. A few people need to be added. Remind me again. Send a donation.

and finally, Scottobear wants to go straight to the heart of things:
Which is better? Monkeys, Zombies, or Pirates?
Monkeys

Why?
Because without monkeys, I would have no joy.

The second installment in the BeaucoupKevin Superman Cover Parade.
Lovely work by Carmine Infantino, but it looks like Superman's face may have gotten a little touch-up by Swan or another of the regulars on his title.

I asked for questions a couple of days ago. Here's some of them. Ask more in the comments section, people.

Josh (who has known me for far too long) asks:
What do you charge?
Ask your hot wife.

This one's from longtime pal Alice:
Why do I gotta be creative and interesting? The pressure is on. I feel like I'm taking a test. Dammit.

What if the creative stuff is too personal?
That's fine. I'll just make up a filthy lie.

What if the interesting stuff is something that no one else is interested in?
Well, you're interested, aren't you? Ask away.

Screw it. What's your favorite ice cream flavor? Are you lactose intolerant?
Damn, I was hoping to make up something very disturbing. My favorite ice cream flavor comes from the Sundae School parlor on Cape Cod: Grape Nut. If that's not available, a good strawberry goes a long way. And no, I am not. If I were, I'd be in agony quite often because of my cheese addiction.

Amy (the Snarling Marmot) wonders:
What breakfast cereal does BeaucoupKevin enjoy most and why?
Cold: Special K. It's just plain good.
Warm: Nabisco's Cream Of Rice. My mother made it quite often and I get insta-flashbacks when I have a bowl. Good, hearty fare for your winter mornings.

Christina, one of my favorite humans on the planet:
A cop-out question, I know, but I can only think in lyrics today: What were the skies like when you were young?
"The sky above the port was the color of television tuned to a dead channel."

Actually, I remember the sky being big when I was young. Living in Arkansas from ages 5 through 10, there were long flat spaces where you'd see the most spectacular clouds and colors. And little fluffy clouds, dear. Little. Fluffy. Clouds.


Maggie (who I need to link to, damn it) asks:
What's a "Nubian?"
It's a little known fact that the Nubians were originally going to be the name for the residents of Naboo in Star Wars: Episode 1. After Doug Chiang told him he'd done quite enough damage to Asians with the Neimoidians, he dropped that and gave them the more sensible name of "Nabooitiantites" to avoid harsh words from the black community. He then snuck Jar-Jar past everyone by throwing money during a screening on Skywalker Ranch. This may be a complete lie.

The internet provides you an excellent diatribe by Courtney, in which she proves that the Monkey King Hates Science.

I'll be posting my favorite Superman covers this week, for obvious reasons. This is from the final "pre-reboot" issue of Action Comics, the title in which Superman first appeared. Alan Moore crafted a very clever "imaginary story" that tied up all the loose ends of the series while providing a satisfying story.

You know what I'm getting sick and tired of hearing about?

The whole "Art Comics" thing that the media has grasped like a fat man holding a Hostess Pie. (Being a man of generous proportions, I can tell you that we hold on to our sickly sweet pastry treats with the force of ten average men.) Now, don't get me wrong - I don't want to understate or diminish the impact that people like R Crumb or Chris Ware or Dan Clowes or Craig Thompson have had on the industry. Ware's Acme Novelty Library and Thompson's Blankets are among my favorite books in the last few years, but there's been a few things coming out of Marvel and DC of late that are, for the most part, getting ignored outside of (usually) poorly-written reviews on medium-specific sites¹.

What prompted this train of thought was a bit of hyperbole on the part of Yale Press, who have just published a book about Chris Ware. Once again - I admire Ware's work. He puts a lot of craft into each page and his storytelling is sublime, but the page linked above quotes the New York Times Book Review's claim that he's "the most versatile and innovative artist the medium has ever known." Apparently the reviewer lives in a vacuum where Jack Kirby never put pen to paper.

If you don't know who Jack Kirby was (and most people who read my blog do,) he was the most important single figure in the history of the comics medium. A popular artist in the golden age, and consistent producer during the fifties, it was his work with Stan Lee that helped bring the Silver Age to light with the publication of Fantastic Four #1. Providing a previously-unseen level of depth to the superhero concept, it was Kirby and Lee's synergy that brought comics onto college campuses and created a level of fandom that rivaled the science fiction community's. During his first period with the publisher, Kirby drew thousands of pages and created many characters. Kirby left Marvel because of several issues and went on to create what was dubbed The Fourth World - a pantheon of gods, waging war for the fate of the universe. Written and drawn by Kirby, this was his most personal epic that was cut short for reasons that are still mired in controversy but it proved to many that he was the driving force behind much of the Marvel Universe. His return to Marvel in the 70s was under less than ideal circumstances and much of this work is considered to be flawed or goofy by some - I love it for the pure energy that he still put on the page, even in stuff like 2001: A Space Odyssey and Devil Dinosaur. His later years in the business featured a lot of material that was driven by sheer ideas more than execution. In the end, he created over 400 characters and did every genre of comic that existed - war, romance (which he helped invent), superhero, crime, even funny animal stuff was handled by The King at one point or another.

Tell me how Chris Ware stacks up against that. To use a clumsy analogy, Kirby is Orson Welles while Ware is Todd Solondz - undeniably talented, but not at the same level of impact or scale. Yes, Ware's design sense is sublime. Yes, Jimmy Corrigan is a devastating piece of work. No, he is not the most important talent the medium has known.

¹ For Example: Darwyn Cooke's New Frontier, a gorgeous and well-crafted look at the Silver Age of DC Comics that makes superheroes simultaneously more human and cool and Brian Michael Bendis's run with Alex Maleev on Daredevil, which has been fascinating from the start.

Christopher Reeve is dead.

Thank you for making a boy believe that a man can fly. Thank you for helping a stupid kid discover that you should do right because you can. Thank you for providing a hero for millions on screen and in your personal life. You'll be missed.

"It's OK, miss. I've got you."
"You've got me - who's got you?!?"

Today, I broke out my copy of Nightlife, the 1999 album by the Pet Shop Boys. It'd been a while since I'd given the whole record a proper listen and was heading out the door for a stroll through the environs of the greater Somerville-Cambridge area, so why not provide a soundtrack? I don't know if it's the Grado headphones or the cool autumn air and general melancholy of the season, but it hit me like it'd never before. Neil Tennant has said he and musical partner Chris Lowe conceived of Nightlifeas an updated, dance-friendly version of one of Frank Sinatra's theme albums of the 50s - an unusual conceit, to say the least. But much like The Chairman's In The Wee Small Hours, this is a record of loss, hope, and longing.

The opening trilogy of "For your own good," "Closer to heaven," and "I don't know what you want but I can't give it anymore" provide the very sound I love more than anything else - the upbeat, danceable sad song. In the opening song, Neil implores his lover to come home as a massive riff provided by producer Rollo builds and builds to a frenzy. While the structure and sound remind me heavily of the producer's work with his own Faithless, it's still unmistakably a Pet Shop Boys track. "Closer to heaven" follows soon after - continuing the theme of the first - "Where'd you go? / Did you lose your way? Tell me now / you're coming home to stay" and building on it while Neil's falsetto gives you the impression that he knows how hopeless his love for the unseen other is. "I don't know what you want but I can't give it anymore" is remarkable for reasons other than its unwieldy name - some of the most pointed lyrics the band have produced come to the fore - "Was it cracking the code / or just filling in time? Was that all? So then why'd you go back to the scene of the crime - did he call?" - while strings and carefully crafted beats drive them straight into the listener's heart. You feel everything that he's trying to say while you nod along or (if you're that sort of person) dancing to David Morales's fine, fine production.

The album's first odd moment shows up with "Happiness is an option," which can be said to be a cousin to the group's smash "West End Girls" - it's a rap with occasional singsong moments. Of course, being the Smartest Men In Pop, they manage to work in references to Russian literature while telling the listener to hang on - the relationship will work out. This leads into "You only tell me you love me when you're drunk," a nod to classic country music that needs to be covered by Dolly Parton or Johnny Cash (which would be a hell of a feat now.) Slide guitar, warm synth pads, and Neil's plaintive lyrics create a truly unique pop tune - mere words from a fan can't do it justice.

"Vampires" is a tune on which my opinion swings wildly, depending on the time of day, point in the lunar cycle, and whether or not I am, once again, Sick Of Vampires And All That Poncy Shit. Well done, certainly, but the metaphor for clublife is pretty heavyhanded and the lyrics aren't up to their usual standards. The line "It's a reflex - just a reflex like fear or sex" makes me think of all the worst cliches peddled to the masses by Anne Rice and her ilk. "The only one" goes back to the album's main themes - betrayal and doubts towards the one you love. Neil's intimate vocals and gentle, lilting backing brings the point home - "Though you've many reasons to tell me a lie, I can't help believing that I should be for you and you for me the only one." We've all been there, and they know it - this is the sort of song that haunts you in the unpleasant quiet moments.

"Boy Strange" is the album's only serious misstep - a slab of Bowie-styled guitar pop with production that's over the top, and not in the pleasant "Well, that's clever and loud" way I associate with the group. It feels like one of their lesser b-sides. The album's weakest moment, easily. "In denial," is a duet with Kylie Minogue - she's the daughter confronting gay dad Neil about his lifestyle. Outside of one very daft couplet - "You're in denial / and that is final" - this is an example of fine, funny songwriting and found its way into their musical with Jonathan Harvey, like several other tracks from this record.

I don't like using the term "gay" to describe something because of the meatheads out there who use "gay" and "retarded" and "stupid" interchangeably. But the penultimate song on Nightlife may well qualify as the Gayest Song Ever. "New York City Boy" is a paeon to the City That Never Sleeps, The Big Apple, The City, and the people who love it. Featuring epic production, sweeping strings, and a chorus straight out of the songbooks of Jacques Morali, this is one of those records that's incredibly embarassing to love, so you do it privately, where you feels like it's OK to sing "You feeeeel / the DEAAAAL / is REAAAAL" and not die of shame. It's also horribly tainted in my mind by one Matthew Sparby and the parody he wrote called "Hello Kitty Girl," which we sang while bombing through Iowa at night. Special note goes to the use of the phrase "eighty-sixed,"

The album's finale, "Footsteps," returns us to the main theme - Neil's character is in bed, alone and waiting to hear his lover come home from a night of "clubbing." "As long as I hear your footsteps in the dark / that's all I need" - this resonates with an experience that I know I've experienced and (much to my chagrin) inflicted upon another. This is a typically Pet Shop Boys song - sweet with a sad edge that is unique to the men who scored a 65 and easily placed in The Guardian's 40 Greatest British Bands Today list. A great album for any season, Nightlife, but it seems to work perfectly for Fall, like its predecesser Behaviour.

(I may, actually, do one of these not-quite-reviews for that album later this week.)

Last night, I helped a friend restructure and rewrite an article that's going to appear in an Indian magazine. We spent two hours going back and forth in emails, IM, and on the phone with red ink being simulated and strikethroughs being liberally applied on the Word XP document. It was after we hung up and I was on my way to bed that I realized that yeah, maybe I really am becoming an editor.

Bring on your writing, minions. I want to make it bleed. Bleed.

(That "minions" there, that was a bit Warren Ellis, wasn't it? That's no good. I require caffeine and complex carbohydrates.

I demand comments, by the way - each person who reads this post now has to comment with a question they'd like to ask me. I'll answer the most creative / interesting ones over the next couple of days while I work at my new job.)

Friday, October 8th 2004 20:23:51, from BeaucoupKevin

Little beady monkey eyes running around the room, thinking about bananas and
beating Kerry with a bone while the monolith pushes him to the next step in
evolution.

[Indecision 2004 SEKRIT INTERNET BBS]


And that's all I have to say about that.

In the last couple of years, Johnnie To has started making movies I love. I don't have a problem with his earlier films, really - The Heroic Trio is brilliant, but mostly for the spry script and acting from Michelle Yeoh, Anita Mui, and Maggie Cheung. The direction obviously owes a lot to the action choreographer, Ching Siu-Tung, who'd previously helmed A Chinese Ghost Story - lots of fog, lots of slow-motion, and lots of long shots. I thought he'd burned out when I saw the limp (if very successful) My Left Eye Sees Ghosts from 2002 - comedy seemed to be where he was wanting to work and, sadly, most of his movies seemed to be asking for laughs rather than getting them from me.

Fast forward to earlier this year. I'd heard that PTU was really great cop stuff and had walked away with just about every award that the HK film industry recognizes, so I picked it up without noticing who was directing. A dark, murky crime drama, this is To's magnum opus, even with its less-than-90-minute running time. A missing police gun in the Tsim Sha Tsui district has a police unit led my Simon Yam scrambling to track it down while investigations from two other departments and a pair of gangs make things...difficult. Ably-handled casting and acting combined with a seemingly non-stop parade of gorgeously composed shots of the city at night push this one into art-film territory without it ever seeming pretentious or grating.

To followed this up with another well-made crime flick, Breaking News, which analyzes the media and how both police and criminals can manipulate it to their own ends. This is when I first noticed his now-preferred color scheme - everything seems more subdued while somehow being overexposed. It's visually arresting and brings the viewer in immediately with his well-timed use of handheld cameras. I could quibble over the unlikeliness of the plot (Kelly Chen's character seems to be able to summon up everything shy of hellfire and monkeys in her role as the police department's liason with the media) and the seeming invulnerability of a few of the characters, but in a world where Chow Yun Fat's guns each fire a hundred rounds, I think that's a bit thick. Good entertainment that's more intelligent than you'd expect.

I just watched Throwdown this afternoon and it's my favorite of his three most recent movies. A tribute to Akira Kurosawa, this film combines Judo, alcoholism, a girl's quest to become a star, a failing nightclub, and gambling in a heartwarming (at least to me) story about three people who manage to build their own family in Hong Kong's underworld. There's also a lot of hitting and stuff, which means you get to see Aaron Kwok hand people their ass on a regular basis - that's fine by me. Lots more of color fun with this one - nightclubs to street scenes to early-morning bus rides give his cinematographer a workout. The motif of the city-as-series-of-canyons gets a repeat performance from Breaking News as well, but you never get sick of it.

To's previously worked inside of a genre and technique for three to five years at a time. I sincerely hope this run lasts longer and maintains its quality.

(Thanks to BoingBoing.)

I have brain problems at the moment. Stand by for updates on my progress.

File under: I take pictures. Photographic pictures.

Three sets. All SFW. Honest.


Guess what movie we all went to see back in June?



Josh and Kathleen visited in August.


And some random photos from the last couple of months.

Big photo post coming up later today, for those who look forward to my amateur attempts at making my friends and myself look cooler than we actually are.

In the meantime, I have to recommend a couple of mashup DJ sites, as I've been digging on their output. If you've managed to avoid the whole phenomenon, "mashups" are when you take elements from two or three or four different songs and make what amounts to a metatrack - Destiny's Child meets Nirvana and it's "Smells Like Booty" time. There was, of course, the massive DJ Dangermouse Beatles/Jay-Z Grey Album phenomenon a few months ago, which is probably the most publicized example of the art. (Personally, I prefer A Night At The Hip-Hopera, where Queen is the backing band for any number of good rappers. Outside of a few inspired moments, Jay-Z is not a good rapper.)

Aaaaanyway, check out Party Ben's site where his infamous Sixx Mixxes from the Bay Area's LIVE 105 are available in the download section. He seamlessly mashes together current alt-rock hits and classics into a frisson of greatness.

DJ Riko has more eclecticism appearing in his mixes - they appear a little further down on this page. I didn't think I'd ever hear Alanis Morissette, Ice-T, Simon and Garfunkel, Nell Carter singing the Gimme A Break theme, and !!! in the same set, but he pulls it off quite handily.

File Under: A Stupid Music Meme

Of all the bands/artists in your cd/record collection, which one do you own the most albums by?
Most albums? Probably Depeche Mode - same for singles. I was really into them for a while and still find myself digging through their stuff and going "Oh boy oh boy!" when I hear things like the live version of "Stripped" on the single for "A Question of Time."

What was the last song you listened to (voluntarily)?
It was a track on Groove Salad last night.

What's on your record player right now?
Well, on the CD player in the bedroom, we've got Smile by Brian Wilson, along with Pet Sounds and an old Pork Records collection loaded and ready to play.

What song would you say sums you up?
"Too Many People"

What's your favorite local band(s)?
Freezepop.

What was the last show you attended?
The Freezepop album release party - god, that was months ago. I'm seeing Mouse On Mars later this month.

What was the greatest show you've ever been to?
Underworld on their Beaucoup Fish tour really was transcendent - a massive crowd packed into Avalon and everyone around me seemed to be there for the music. I've also got to give props to an Orbital gig in Atlanta - when "Halcyon" broke, I swear everyone had little orgasms all over the floor.

What's the shittiest band you've ever seen in concert?
Stabbing Fucking Westward. I couldn't get away from them for a while - they opened for Front 242 and Depeche Mode multiple times when I saw them.

What band do you love musically but hate the members of?
Hrm. Well, the two good Beatles are dead...

What is the most musically involved you have ever been?
I played records and got paid for it sporadically. I had a nice conversation with Toby Banks from Banco De Gaia after one of his gigs. Moby's very pleasant in person, or he was in 1995.

What show are you looking forward to?
Mouse On Mars. Don't you pay attention?

What is your favorite band shirt?
Pet Shop Boys - Nightlife. It's enigmatic and groovy and is one of two "band shirts" I still own.

What musician would you like to hang out with for a day?
Neil Tennant from the Pet Shop Boys would provide great conversation, but I'd love to watch Underworld work in the studio.

Sabbath or solo Ozzy?
Neither. I am not a fan.

Commodores or solo Lionel Richie?
Commodores. Geez.

What was the greatest decade for music?
For music in general, the 1960s were probably the most influential and powerful. For music I listen to most of the time? 1990s.

How many music-related videos/dvds do you own?
Ten or so. They're over there.

What is your favorite movie soundtrack?
Trainspotting still sounds like a mixtape that a friend made me. Yes, I have friends. Shudup. While the movie is playing, I always say "I'd like the soundtrack to The Royal Tenenbaums," but I've yet to find it at a price point I think is acceptable.

What's the crappiest CD/record/etc you've ever bought?
I refuse to answer this question on the basis that it may incriminate me. (There was the cassingle for "Beautiful Life" by Ace Of Base that Mike Hargrove and I bought on a road trip up to North Carolina, but...it was a single!)

Do you prefer vinyl or CDs?
For deep, bassy dance music, I prefer vinyl. CD still works well enough for me around the house.

All totalled, how much do you spend on music in a month?
Probably between $100 - 150. Less than I used to, really. At one point, I was hitting $300-500 a month on vinyl, discount bins, etc.

File Under: Snikt! Suck!

I read the forthcoming issue of Wolverine at the shop this afternoon. I was interested because comics' So-Called Bad Boy Mark Millar wrote it and John Romita Jr provided the art. Wolverine's a character I have no special empathy for outside of the X-Men films. Morrison handled him really well in New X-Men, but other than that, he's just there, being bitchy most of the time, not making me care about him. Hearing that Millar was going to get a crack at Canada's Favorite Mutant and the subsequent hype in Wizard (WIZARD HYPING AN X-BOOK - SAY IT AIN'T SO, JOE,) I thought I'd invest twenty minutes, if not $3 or whatever the book costs now, to see what it was all about.

It was as I was turning the first page of the issue, I realized something. This is familiar. This story, I know it from somewhere. That's when it hits me. Mark Millar outright swipes from one of my favorite Kurosawa movies - High And Low. I understand nods, winks, even a good homage to a worthy source, but this is ludicrous - outright thievery. Taking the exact same plot as a movie (even down to the occupation of the father whose child was kidnapped) and using it as a reason to get Logan in Japan smacks of a writer who's overextended himself and trying to look clever without working hard because, hey, who watches black and white Japanese movies?

I do, you lazy Scottish bastard. I do.

File Under: Media Whore

New York Sawed In Half is the true tale of two men who pulled what may well be the biggest hoax this country's ever seen. It's funny, lively, and informative without ever seeming too light or too preachy and could be read in a single afternoon by almost any adult. You can get it for less than $2 on Amazon. Click and buy.

Brian Wilson finally put out his on-hold-for-almost-four-decades opus Smile out and it's mind-boggling in its brilliance. A worthy companion to Pet Sounds (which, seriously, I don't care if the only Beach Boys song you know is "Kokomo," you really should own,) this is one of the best pure pop albums I've heard in a long time. You wanna see where Wilco got Hotel Yankee Foxtrot? Wilson's the man.

Rammstein remixed by Pet Shop Boys. Oy vey. Interesting. I don't know if I like it, but it's interesting.

I spent the day with M. It was better than OK.

Just when I thought the whole undercover cop genre in Hong Kong movies was pretty much beaten into the ground, stomped down, set aflame, and then drenched in bilgewater, the Infernal Affairs series comes along to prove me wrong. These movies are a dramatic and intelligent meditation on the machinations of the Triads and the police, pointing out the hopelessness on both sides to great effect.

Tony (Hero) Leung plays Yan, a deep undercover cop. He's about to finish his tenth year of doing dirty work - he was plucked straight from police academy and was in the same class as Andy (About A Million HK Movies. I'll Say Drunken Master II for the hell of it) Lau's Ming. Ming was inserted into the academy by a Triad boss wanting his own man on the inside and has just been promoted into Internal Affairs. Each works to the opposite purpose of the other and, of course, they eventually cross paths with an ending that I didn't see coming, and I have watched at least three or four dozen examples of this sort of movie.

The sequels are worth noting for the unusual approach made - Infernal Affairs II flashes back to the decade before the first movie, showing Yan's rise in the Triads and paralleling it with Ming's working his way up the ladder in the police force. It only shows Leung and Lau in reference to the original and doesn't rise above the generic material like the first movie did, but apparently it made enough to get Infernal Affairs III made.

I've just finished watching the third movie and it easily pulls up alongside the first in the race and may actually cross the finish line before it. It picks up six months after the end of the first movie and uses flashbacks beautifully to allow you to get a much better picture of both leads. Everything ties up neatly, if not in a completely happy Hollywood lovefest sort of way.

Of particular note in the three films are Anthony Wong and Eric Tsang, who hold their own as the characters' respective mentors. Both are among my favorite "bit" actors in Hong Kong, so it was really nice to watch them chew on a script that played to their strengths.

The combination of fine actors, a series of well-crafted scripts, some lucious cinematography and smart direction easily places these movies among my favorite recent releases from Hong Kong.

That link at the top takes you to a class internet retailer who has the box set of all three movies for less than the cost of seeing the first (which just got released) in the theater with a date and opting to go for the value combo. HKFlix have taken care of me when local merchants failed and I can't recommend them highly enough.

File Under: Hey, A Post About Comics!


So, this week I got a few interesting things. First up on the docket - Oni's latest graphic novel, Scandalous from J. Torres and Scott Chantler.

This seems to have everything I want in a novel set in 50s Hollywood; dirty dealing, scandals involving major stars, and the Red Menace find their way into this well-crafted story of journalistic warfare. Torres certainly knows the period very well - his previous work with Chantler, Days Like This showed the same affection for the early 60s, but there's something missing - bite. Where James Ellroy can say "Lana Turner" and "Johnny Stompanato" and the like in his LA books, Torres pulls back a bit. The analogies are obvious - Rock Hudson, Lucille Ball, and Frank Sinatra all appear in thin disguises and we know a lot of the stories anyway, so why not go for it? There's lawyers and such out there, but with everyone who could be namechecked properly being dead and their estates at such a value that a funnybook couldn't possibly damage them, what's the deal? The same frustration hit with the Hollywood arc in Howard Chaykin's American Century, but at least there I can say "Hey, Jerry Lewis is still alive and bitter that nobody wants to see The Day The Clown Cried so he might sue like a motherfucker."


Mike at the shop keeps telling me that Oeming's writing on Thor is great stuff. I certainly enjoyed Hammer Of The Gods well enough - the execution and verve had this Kirby-esque punch without actually being derived from The King's work. I picked up Six hoping that the interiors would belie the heavy Recent Science Fiction / Kung Fu Trilogy vibe I was getting from it.

It didn't. It'd fit very comfortably among the Matrix Comics collection's lesser moments. Boring, predictable, but with some nice art. Pass.

Hellblazer celebrated its two hundredth issue with one of the most depressing comics ever. It was brilliantly executed and gutted me completely, proving Alice's oft-repeated notion than John Constantine Is A Bringer Of Death And Wrong Upon People's Lives, Especially His Own. It was great to see Steve Dillon put in a few pages on this character - seeing Kit, though? Ouch. Make with the stabby on my heart a little more, Mike Carey, you vicious writer.