Matthew Allen Smith is the artist for The Chronicles Of Solomon Stone, a comic written by my good friend and "creatively challenged wunderkind" (I’m only repeating what I read on the internet) Chris Sims. This was my (very early) Christmas present from both of them. You can look at more of Smithy’s art on his blog.
I asked Truth Serum’s Jon Adams for a Jonah. What I got back was something so beautiful, it’s not made for this world.
Keogh is the artist on Lucid TV, your new favorite webcomic about doctors that really, really hate their job but love the power that comes with it. Click through to view my collection of J Jonah Jameson commissions and sketches.
Well, ED-209
You’ve really done it this time
Off to the scrap heap.
Hey, Murphy, Murphy!
She calls as I stride away
Murphy is dead.
Was he authorized
to use physical force on
Clarence Boddicker?
Listen! “Your move, creep”.
It is the last thing you hear.
Detroit is safer.
You think you’re smart?
Do you think you can outsmart
A bullet? Â Bang bang!
A house rests, empty.
The family is long gone
Justice needs me now.
The windows shatter
But then his voice stops me cold
“I work for Dick Jones!”
I made a mistake
Now it’s time to erase it
Say goodbye, Bobby.
The spike on my fist
Clarence falls, Lewis is hurt
Murphy.. I’m a mess.”
“They’ll fix you,” I say
“They fix everybody,” and
Lewis smiles, barely.
You laugh now young punks
The Ford Taurus was the best
The future could buy.
It’s TJ Lazer
My son loved that stupid show
The gun spins, for him.
Rounds tear through targets
“Supercop!” “That fuckin’ gun!”
But was I once more?
I killed Bob Morton
Because he made a mistake.
ED-209: fire.
Harsh voice, metal
ED-209 counts fast
Twenty seconds – death.
The OCP says
“We are the military.”
I will prove them wrong.
Riots in the streets
“I’d buy that for a dollar!”
Detroit is ours.
Partners for a day
That doesn’t matter a bit
for police fight on.
My hand, gone in fire
Boddiker leers, smiling hate
Not like Metro South
They recoil, afraid
Some seem familiar – echos?
My analog past.
Grid over my eyes
“…be a bad mother fucker.”
Dead? Â No. Â RoboCop.
Clarence spits out blood
“Gimme my fuckin’ phone call.”
“He’s a cop-killer.”
Shame about Kinney.
That’s life in the big city.
I need more cocaine.
My senses are gone
Replaced with sensors and wires
I eat baby food.
I’d recommend starting at the beginning. Yes, there really is a a cash register police detective. No, they are not on drugs.
(OK, maybe they’re on drugs. I shouldn’t really speak for them.)
Paul has just taken over art duties on Living With Insanity, a fine webcomic worth your time.
Edit: Paul’s just added a color version on his blog.
