Starfish And Coffee, Maple Syrup and Jam.
It's Thursday, that's coffee, those are comics.
Let's do this thing.
While Action Philosophers Hate The French may be a misnomer, I am not going to hold that against Fred Van Lente and artist Ryan Dunlavey for one reason: I actually get a lot of the material presented without feeling like it's been dumbed down. This issue takes the reader through the world as seen by Derrida, Sartre, and Descartes with plenty of humor, vim, and vigor without having to put up with droning professors or those clove-smoking assholes who always write in their Moleskins about man's cruelty to man instead of doing something about it. If I were part of the Savage Critics, I would rate this Very Good.
100 Bullets is in this weird holding pattern for me. I still enjoy each issue and consider it to be the best thing Azzarello's done, but part of me wants it to be over, already so I can go back and read the entire series. As always, Risso does what he does with a casual elegance that's akin to watching Fred Astaire lightly perform moves that you could never, ever perform. Ever. (He also draws women the way I like them, but that's beside the point.)
If I were Chris Sims, I would ask myself "Where's the shark-eating bear with a jetpack?"
Thunder Monkey #1 seems like something I'd enjoy and while it gets a bit of clout with me for the whole "Giant Monkey That Fights Crime" thing, not much outside of one awkwardly-drawn fight scene and some clich�d pulp villain crime bits happen. Still, its heart is in the right place and I'm going to give it another issue before I drop it
If I were Mike Sterling, I would post a picture of a crappy-ass promo poster DC sent my shop in the 90s as a reward for reading this far.
The third issue of Batman: Year 100 features Pope going completely wild in the opening sequence, with lots of crazy-ass Batman hijinks beautifully rendered. A few more pieces of the story's puzzle drop into place and there's a particularly well-done scene where Batman undergoes a bit of psychic interrogation and doesn't reveal a single thing about his identity. The idea of Batman being a complete cipher in a society that has trodden over everyone's right to privacy is a powerful one and Pope's using it to serve both the story's theme and the story itself.
If I were Dave Campbell, I'd say that the entire issue is a F&$K YEAH! moment and then get 45 comments agreeing with that assessment. 22 of those would make some lame joke about the Verification Code that Blogger puts on comments.
BPRD: The Universal Machine's debut issue forgoes the slam-bang action that has marked the BPRD titles so far and gives the reader a pause with character moments and a great horror hook thanks to Kate's quest to revive the much-beloved Roger. Apparently, the next issue features the story of Daimo's death and resurrection, which is something I certainly look forward to. If you've not been reading BPRD because it's not "real" Hellboy, you're missing out - Mignola and Arcude are crafting adventures well worthy of your attention.
If I were Tom Spurgeon, the preceding paragraph would have six cousins and manage to sum up the movement of the entire medium somehow.
Man, I hate how damned good Spurgeon is.
I've only read two of the stories in the new Marvel Romance Redux: Restraining Orders Are For Other Girls, but with jokes about harvesting gender-defining organs, body odor as a turn-on, and some whacked-out Kirby hairdos on a few of the dames herein, I'm already ahead in the dollar-value game.
If I were Johanna Draper Carlson, I would have reviewed the latest Jughead instead of this.
The latest issue of Brian Wood and Riccardo Burchielli's DMZ is insanely timely in the wake of Jill Carroll's release. While not a lot happens in this first of five parts as far as plot goes, there's some stunning art and the world-building manages to engage without turning into another lesson about how crummy people can be. I hate to be "that guy," but this is a great jumping-on point for people who like what they've seen of the series but have been waiting for the trade.
If I were Dorian Wright, I'd post a picture of Tom Selleck circa 1983 at this point in the proceedings. In fact, I think I will anyway despite the man's dubious politics:
It's apparent to me that I must away to work, but here's super-dense capsules of the other books I read and enjoyed:
Fantastic Four: First Family #2: just retro enough with modern touches that add "relevance." Weston's art is something I love dearly and the contrast with Kirby provides great metacontext when combined with Casey's script.
Case Files: Sam And Twitch #23: I really enjoy this procedural title, but this issue smacked way, way too much of Law And Order: Kiddie Rape Kavalcade.
The Ellis books of the week? Desolation Jones #6 made me wonder what I ever did to Ellis to deserve such a cold, cold denouement. Fuck's sake, man. Elegant in its brutality, though, with Williams just continuing to impress. Blackgas #2 actually made an origin for Zombification work for me. However, it's bog-standard except for the Ellis Science And Dialogue Touch, which carries more weight with me than I care to admit.
That's it. I'm out.
Doggs.
Let's do this thing.
While Action Philosophers Hate The French may be a misnomer, I am not going to hold that against Fred Van Lente and artist Ryan Dunlavey for one reason: I actually get a lot of the material presented without feeling like it's been dumbed down. This issue takes the reader through the world as seen by Derrida, Sartre, and Descartes with plenty of humor, vim, and vigor without having to put up with droning professors or those clove-smoking assholes who always write in their Moleskins about man's cruelty to man instead of doing something about it. If I were part of the Savage Critics, I would rate this Very Good.
100 Bullets is in this weird holding pattern for me. I still enjoy each issue and consider it to be the best thing Azzarello's done, but part of me wants it to be over, already so I can go back and read the entire series. As always, Risso does what he does with a casual elegance that's akin to watching Fred Astaire lightly perform moves that you could never, ever perform. Ever. (He also draws women the way I like them, but that's beside the point.)
If I were Chris Sims, I would ask myself "Where's the shark-eating bear with a jetpack?"
Thunder Monkey #1 seems like something I'd enjoy and while it gets a bit of clout with me for the whole "Giant Monkey That Fights Crime" thing, not much outside of one awkwardly-drawn fight scene and some clich�d pulp villain crime bits happen. Still, its heart is in the right place and I'm going to give it another issue before I drop it
If I were Mike Sterling, I would post a picture of a crappy-ass promo poster DC sent my shop in the 90s as a reward for reading this far.
The third issue of Batman: Year 100 features Pope going completely wild in the opening sequence, with lots of crazy-ass Batman hijinks beautifully rendered. A few more pieces of the story's puzzle drop into place and there's a particularly well-done scene where Batman undergoes a bit of psychic interrogation and doesn't reveal a single thing about his identity. The idea of Batman being a complete cipher in a society that has trodden over everyone's right to privacy is a powerful one and Pope's using it to serve both the story's theme and the story itself.
If I were Dave Campbell, I'd say that the entire issue is a F&$K YEAH! moment and then get 45 comments agreeing with that assessment. 22 of those would make some lame joke about the Verification Code that Blogger puts on comments.
BPRD: The Universal Machine's debut issue forgoes the slam-bang action that has marked the BPRD titles so far and gives the reader a pause with character moments and a great horror hook thanks to Kate's quest to revive the much-beloved Roger. Apparently, the next issue features the story of Daimo's death and resurrection, which is something I certainly look forward to. If you've not been reading BPRD because it's not "real" Hellboy, you're missing out - Mignola and Arcude are crafting adventures well worthy of your attention.
If I were Tom Spurgeon, the preceding paragraph would have six cousins and manage to sum up the movement of the entire medium somehow.
Man, I hate how damned good Spurgeon is.
I've only read two of the stories in the new Marvel Romance Redux: Restraining Orders Are For Other Girls, but with jokes about harvesting gender-defining organs, body odor as a turn-on, and some whacked-out Kirby hairdos on a few of the dames herein, I'm already ahead in the dollar-value game.
If I were Johanna Draper Carlson, I would have reviewed the latest Jughead instead of this.
The latest issue of Brian Wood and Riccardo Burchielli's DMZ is insanely timely in the wake of Jill Carroll's release. While not a lot happens in this first of five parts as far as plot goes, there's some stunning art and the world-building manages to engage without turning into another lesson about how crummy people can be. I hate to be "that guy," but this is a great jumping-on point for people who like what they've seen of the series but have been waiting for the trade.
If I were Dorian Wright, I'd post a picture of Tom Selleck circa 1983 at this point in the proceedings. In fact, I think I will anyway despite the man's dubious politics:
It's apparent to me that I must away to work, but here's super-dense capsules of the other books I read and enjoyed:
Fantastic Four: First Family #2: just retro enough with modern touches that add "relevance." Weston's art is something I love dearly and the contrast with Kirby provides great metacontext when combined with Casey's script.
Case Files: Sam And Twitch #23: I really enjoy this procedural title, but this issue smacked way, way too much of Law And Order: Kiddie Rape Kavalcade.
The Ellis books of the week? Desolation Jones #6 made me wonder what I ever did to Ellis to deserve such a cold, cold denouement. Fuck's sake, man. Elegant in its brutality, though, with Williams just continuing to impress. Blackgas #2 actually made an origin for Zombification work for me. However, it's bog-standard except for the Ellis Science And Dialogue Touch, which carries more weight with me than I care to admit.
That's it. I'm out.
Doggs.
