Sunday, December 30, 2012

nurghophonic jukebox: "I Got A Girl " by Tripping Daisy

Written By: Tim DeLaughter, Tripping Daisy
Released: June 20, 1995
Album: I Am an Elastic Firecracker
Single?: #6 on Billboard Modern Rock Tracks

I got a girl who lives with me
I got a girl she smells so sweetly
I got a girl she loves her dog
I got a girl I love her dog too
I got a girl who stares in the mirror
I got a girl who blames it on her period
I got a girl she is so right
I got a girl she's my guiding light

Well I know, I need, I feel we're going higher and higher

I got a girl who loves good soul
I got a girl who dances the disco
I got a girl who wears cool shoes
I got a girl who wears them in the nude
I got a girl who speaks her mind
I got a girl who will argue anytime
I got a girl she is so small
I got a girl she'll knock down any wall

Well I know, I need, I feel we're going higher and higher

Get a load of this she's always bitching at me when I'm feeling down,
Asking questions with her little frown,
I can't take much much more of this, I'm out

Get a load of this she's always bitching at me when I'm feeling down,
Asking questions with her little frown,
I can't take much much more of this, I'm out

I got a girl I love to kiss
I got a girl I never wanna miss
I got a girl who's my best friend
I got a girl that won't even hold my hand
I got a girl that makes me laugh
I got a girl I'll make her laugh too
I got a girl she has girlfriends
I got a girl I like her girlfriends

Well I know, I need, I feel we're going higher and higher
I got a girl
And she's got a guy

Tuesday, December 25, 2012

Tuesday Is Christmas For All I Care #167

Arrow #1 (2012)
Indie Comics Horror #1
Judge Dredd #1 (2012)
Swamp Thing #14 (2012)

Guess what? I've got lungs full of dogshit and a fever-- the only prescription is more butthurt comic creators!

Arrow #1 (DC, 2012, $3.99)
Another fine example of the failings of modern comics. Collected in this overpriced advertisement circular are three stories by as many creative teams made to tie into the ersatz Batman Green Arrow TV show on the CW. These were made for the internet as digital first downloads, and I think they sold for a buck a piece, so it's kind of important to tell a satisfying story in ten pages. None even come close.

The first retells Oliver Queen's show origin while offering the parallel tale of his initial homecoming after five years as an island castaway. Both are given short shrift, too vague while offering less details than the preview trailer for the show. While it's cute that they got Mike Grell to draw the character given his history, likenesses and modernity aren't his strong suit. The buff twentysomething show star more resembles a late life Steve McQueen after raiding Jan-Michael Vincent's late '70s wardrobe, and the art style would be more appropriate on a sports & outdoors t-shirt.

Then again, that's much preferable to second artist Sergio Sandoval's storyboards that seem intent on avoiding backgrounds whenever possible. Ben Sokolowski's script is the closest to being a complete entity, even if the plot is dumb, hackneyed and riddled with holes.

The final tale is a China White spotlight, although comic fans should immediately recognize Helena Bertinelli's origin story with dashes of Virginia Applejack and I guess the laziest homage to O-Ren Ishii possible. Each of the tales feel like a prelude or aside, and just sit there.

Indie Comics Horror #1 (Aazurn, 2012, $4.75)
As with Creator-Owned Heroes, I ordered this book in hopes that in the midst of an anthology boldly defying the corporate mainstream mentality, there would be at least one diamond in the rough. Optimism is a key ingredient in the formula for cynicism. You haven't heard of most of these guys for a reason. Furthermore, each story starts with a text biography of the writer, and only the writer, at the top margin of the splash page. Way to bring the team together fuckwits, especially since the writing doesn't even meet the standards of adequacy of the better art found here.

  • "Immortal Resistance" by Rob Anderson and DaFu Yu is "What If King Leonidas was a super-zombie?" The art is best suited for low rent heroic adventure, so it works on that front, but not at all in the horror department (especially the tacked-on epilogue.)
  • Students of the Unusual: "Worm Cheese" made me wonder where my free CD got to? In four years, their efforts haven't improved one iota, and you can tell where the story is going within a few panels. Art's lousy, too.
  • "The Standard" was this sort of modern pulp social commentary thing, which aside from a not-really-twisted ending, didn't play as horror. Adrian Rodriquez's art, which I'm sure exists in full digital color somewhere, is better than the limp story deserves.
  • "The Belt," also drawn by DaFu Yu, who is again too Image-y for the gore to be any more terrifying than the sophomoric ultraviolence in an early Rob Liefeld book. The script comes the closest to the area of The Twilight Zone, but is more like the cable version of Outer Limits. It's dark sci-fi with a constant sardonic Verhoven meta-narration that distances the reader from the characters' plight almost as much as their lack of a personality does.
  • "Minister to the Undead" almost tells a story, but instead just sort of stops at establishing a premise. A tie-in pin-up is five years old, so maybe this was a stalled pitch at some point.
  • "Witch Hunters" sucked so bad in execution that I have to assume writer Paul Bradford was forced to simply salvage what he could from Allen Byrns' wretched excuse for art, which takes the near talentless laziness of Ben Templesmith to its least logical nigh-incoherent stick figure extreme. Then again, Bradford turns around and rewrites the same lousy sad goth boy poem three times over for as many artists under the pseudonym "Hierophantom," so maybe he's as much to blame.

Judge Dredd #1 (IDW, 2012, $3.99)
The Judge Dredd franchise is a thing I want to like, have tried repeatedly to like, but do not in fact like. He's the biggest name in British genre comics, and that stuff Brian Bolland drew sure was pretty, but that's that. I read Fleetway reprints of Dredd and Psi-Judge Anderson stories in the '80s, saw both movies, and bought most of the Dredd books DC published in the '90s (including two short-lived ongoings and a bunch of team-up specials.) I'm a fan of Mills and O'Neill's Marshal Law, which is pretty much Judge Dredd for the spandex crowd. I love me some black comedy, especially at the expense of the U.S.A. I'm sure a big part of the problem is that I don't tend to enjoy the writing of Dredd mainstays like John Wagner and Alan Grant, and the approach I most gravitated toward was the smarter, more acerbic American Andy Helfer. In truth though, the post-apocalyptic setting and specific flavor of sci-fi have been done to death, and the creators' approach to the fascistic state in which Dredd thrives is too flat and arch. I don't have to root for Dredd as an anti-hero or stealth antagonist, but I do need at least one character to give a fuck about, and never find one.

Duane Swierczynski does not appear likely to buck the trend. The lead story with artist Nelson Daniel is Dredd 101 (and perhaps a touch of Magnus Robot Fighter.) The art is serviceable, the story gets across its intent, and so I will nod at its workmanlike quality. A second story would appear to run during the first, but there is contrary evidence in the art, so it instead seems like the writer simply failed to display range. I've always been fond of Paul Gulacy, but he takes advantage of Dredd's skewed world to offer poor anatomy, occasional hyperactive detail amidst broad stretches of bland basics, and editorial cartoon noodling. The story explores the failings of Dredd's law, but without the slightest nuance, projecting to the cheap seats. The most interesting thing in the package is a one page text piece by Douglas Wolk about what made Dredd a Anglophile phenomenon, which contrasts severely against IDW's sad product.

Swamp Thing #14 (DC, 2012, $2.99)
Scott Snyder has gotten to be a biggish deal in comics over recent years, so my natural inclination is to try and take him down, but he hasn't given me much ammunition. For the second installment of a crossover event read cold, the issue is surprisingly comprehensible. It gives a sense of who the characters are and what stakes they're fighting for, plus there's a blessed lack of ellipses for a Swamp Thing comic. Yanick Paquette is overly enthusiastic about rendering big ol' titties, but he otherwise serves the marriage of horror and heroism well. I'd have rather gotten further along in the narrative, but like Abraham, it was a good floppy for its time.

Friday, December 21, 2012

nurghophonic jukebox: "If I Had A Rocket Launcher" by Bruce Cockburn

Written By: Bruce Cockburn
Released: 1984
Album: Stealing Fire
Single?: #88 on the U.S. Billboard Hot 100, #49 in Canada

A favorite of my kid sister, who has kids of her own today, and would certainly appreciate it if they not be imperiled by psychopaths on a rampage.

Here comes the helicopter -- second time today
Everybody scatters and hopes it goes away
How many kids they've murdered only God can say
If I had a rocket launcher...I'd make somebody pay

I don't believe in guarded borders and I don't believe in hate
I don't believe in generals or their stinking torture states
And when I talk with the survivors of things too sickening to relate
If I had a rocket launcher...I would retaliate

On the Rio Lacantun, one hundred thousand wait
To fall down from starvation -- or some less humane fate
Cry for Guatemala, with a corpse in every gate
If I had a rocket launcher...I would not hesitate

I want to raise every voice -- at least I've got to try
Every time I think about it water rises to my eyes.
Situation desperate, echoes of the victims cry
If I had a rocket launcher...Some son of a bitch would die

Tuesday, December 18, 2012

The Walking Dead Volume 17: Something To Fear (2012)

I'm starting to hate the internet. I like to check out the naked actress screencap sites, which led to a subplot from this season's Mad Men getting spoiled for me just because I wanted a peek at some Rory Gilmore sideboob. That's the price I had to pay I suppose, so I could walk that off. Then I was reading an article about this year's Golden Globes nominations, and Mad Men got snubbed for once. The article felt the need to not only point out that an actor besides Jon Hamm perhaps deserved a nom, but specifically because this this and that happened to their character. Why in the fucking fucking shit cunt faggot whore did that need to be dropped casually into a sentence? Because the person writing it was an unconscientious dickweed who doesn't seem to be aware that there isn't much in the way of appointment television anymore, and some of us like to watch a whole season in one rip on DVD. I will point out that if my girlfriend hadn't insisted that we re-watch season four because of the extended gap before season five, we'd have seen the show before it got ruined for me. Remind me to give her the finger later. Just the one, now.

Anyway, comics sites are no better, especially when they delight in covering The Walking Dead #100 and how it was the best-selling single issue of a comic since before the current crop of Disney/Nickelodeon stars were born. This involved a host of variant covers and there were cutesy tie-ins so that by the time the trade collection had come out, I knew that it was Professor Plum in the study with the lead pipe. There was one other surprise in there, at least, but the book is still reading like an extended adaptation of The Girl Who Owned a City with more curse words. A lot of the set-up was strikingly similar to the epic arc around #50, demanding comparisons this arc is painfully ill-equipped to stand up to. I got a bigger jolt reading about the current shenanigans in Spider-Man, a character and franchise that hasn't meant anything significant to me since about 1988.

The only TV show I currently watch first run is The Walking Dead. I'm seriously considering adding a few more because of how insane the lack of courtesy with regards to spoilers has gotten (should I even bother with True Blood at this point?) It's ironic that I've followed The Walking Dead in first run since reading the comic puts me years ahead of the adaptation, and for the first couple of seasons, the show wasn't particular good at translating the appeal. I mostly kept up with it because my girlfriend had gotten into it enough to make it a ritual. However, the current season has been fucking fantastic, casting off dead weight in spectacular fashion while ratcheting up the action and intrigue enough to conceal the plot holes and uneven acting. The show has caught up to the comic's golden period, and has lifted its game to compete. One of my favorite comic characters joined the show at the mid-season break, just as I'm realizing that I don't root for any of the characters left in the books anymore. The comics are doing their best to maintain the lowest depths of tedium from the show's second season. Television has finally overtaken the comics in quality, which makes me sad and not a little put out when I fork over money for new collections after the shark has long since been jumped. It's hard to quit after seventeen fucking volumes, and I'm mildly curious to see where things go from here, but for me the best thing Robert Kirkman could do is start a new story with an entirely different cast in a different location. Compared to the show, the comics are a chore, and my preferred reading model undercuts my best hope for pleasure: modest shock value regarding a crew coasting on fumes.

Sunday, December 16, 2012

nurghophonic jukebox: "Rose Of The Devil's Garden" by Tiger Army

Written By: Nick 13
Released: June 29, 2004
Album: Tiger Army III: Ghost Tigers Rise
Single?: Uncharted, but Masuimi Max cameos in the music video

There is a rose in the Devil's garden
In shadow it grows alone
Many things are dangerous now
In this garden we call home

Be careful as you make your way
Some things are poison to the touch
You've spent your life here in this place
You long to run away so much

My love it is a black rose (my love it is a black rose)
Held out to you by the hand of fate (held by the hand of fate now)
And as this dark romance grows...
It's not from the sun, but the starlight that's so far away
Above the Devil's garden

The fertile soil of poisoned hearts
Fed by tears and nighttime rain
Under Transylvanian moon
Grows the flower bred from pain

Death is pure - life is not
So ask yourself, what do you want?
As for me, well I want you
So pick the black rose and let its thorns cut you


Thursday, December 13, 2012

Wednesday Is Meeting The New Boss For All I Care #166

Action Comics #14 (2012)
Indestructible Hulk #1
Marvel NOW! Point One #1
Talon #1 (2012)

Action Comics #14 (DC, 2012, $3.99)
In 2012, with regular pictures coming in from the dead world, it's hard to get excited by a mystery on Mars. I bought the book hoping for some early New 52 Martian Manhunter cameoage to jazz it up. Instead, it's Superman filling in for Doctor Who in a lame comic to read from behind the couch, or whatever. I always get pissed when I realize a Who episode isn't resolving fast enough to not turn into a two-parter, and the only reason that didn't happen here is because the second half would have to be better than the first on premise alone. I just wish I could have skipped directly to that one, because $4 for purely functionary read should give me the right to one good open palm slap across the back of Grant Morrison's bald head. There's also a back-up by Sholly Fisch and Chris Sprouse eight pages on a wimpy concept that should have been bookend pages for an actual story.

Indestructible Hulk #1 (Marvel, 2012, $3.99)
Mark Waid saw Joss Whedon's The Avengers and said, "yeah-- that." Maria Hill subs for Black Widow, Phil Coulson cameos, and Nick Fury is surely forthcoming. Unfortunately, every single deviation from the movie is wrong-headed. Banner finds S.H.I.E.L.D. instead of vice versa, and makes Maria Hill seem completely incompetent as a result. Waid speaks through Banner to sell the series' premise to readers, a flagrant violation of "show, don't tell." Curiously, Leinil Francis Yu worked better for me drawing ten pages of talking heads in a diner than the drawn out Hulk mayhem that followed. Mad Thinker remains a throwaway villain tossed in for an amusing line or two, and while I appreciate it being a done-in-one, I have no desire to continue from here.

Marvel NOW! Point One #1 (Marvel, 2012, $5.99)
It takes some gall to package a bunch of shitty previews to series that probably won't sell with a bridging story and charge folks $6 for the sampling. Starlord gets a traumatic origin sequence, but fuck you if you don't know who Peter Quill is, because you're not getting shit for exposition. Jeph Loeb and Ed McGuinness reteam for a Nova series no one on earth wants, so much so that it might fail during their run instead of after they leave. Gillen, McKelvie & Norton turned me onto Young Avengers a bit, but I'm not invested enough to bite on this alone. An eight page Ant-Man story by Matt Fraction and Mike Allred is a self-validating proposition, even if it stops more than ends, and won't lead me to FF. I liked the Forge solo story well enough, so maybe I'll keep an eye out for other Dennis Hopeless work, if he ever gets out of the mutie ghetto. The Nick Fury/Agent Coulson bridge tries to tie all these disparate elements together, but can't pull it off, and nothing in the book seems likely to impact on my Marvel Comics buying habits.

Talon #1 (DC, 2012, $2.99)
There's a phenomenon with TV show pilots where the creators put all their heart and soul in that positive first step, and then totally stumble on the second. This was that. Picking at threads from a Batman Family crossover like a vulture snacking on a corpse, the heroic Talon battles a villainous Talon again as they talk about how secret and unbeatable the Court of Owls are some more. An arch exposition spewing supporting character is thrust into the narrative as good Talon acts like an idiot to maintain trumped up drama. Guillem March only gets to draw three characters, and you get tired of looking at them after a while. In the end, good Talon finally accepts his life's mission, which I thought he'd already done in #0, as well as donning the horrible official Talon costume I'd forgotten he was stuck with because he looked decent for two issues without it. This comic effectively undoes all the good will built up by the debut.

Monday, December 10, 2012

Changeoverscope: Daniel Craig as James Bond

I wanted to try something new with my movie reviews, because the long involved focused ones get to be too time and energy consuming. I'd like to talk about more flicks than I've managed to without suffering through hours of commentary tracks and such. Hence, "Changeoverscope," a selection of relatively brief, informal, often related movie critiques. First up, my girlfriend recently decided that she has a thing for squishfaced Daniel Craig, which motivated her to watch all of his appearances as James Bond, and I went along for the ride.

I saw Casino Royale when it hit theaters in 2006 with a friend who was a fellow long time Bond fan. We'd both really liked the first Brosnan Bond, Goldeneye, but we agreed that the series had gone downhill from there. We turned to one another and sneered over what I still feel is one of the very worst Bond tunes ever, Chris Cornell's "You Know My Name." For my buddy, Casino Royale was the final straw, as he found the reboot a hokey Bourne impersonation. I enjoyed the flick the first time, as it was my initial exposure to parkour, I appreciate Martin Campbell's directorial eye, and I'd abused myself repeatedly to Eva Green in The Dreamers. Judi Dench remained a great M, and I was cool with Jeffrey Wright as the new Felix Leiter. On the other hand, I found Craig a boring thug, and Mads Mikkelsen's Le Chiffre was laughably ridiculous. Despite giving the movie a thumb up, I didn't watch it again for six years, and only half paid attention to it on home video. On review, I wish we'd had more time with Isaach De Bankolé's Steven Obanno, a far more menacing and dynamic villain. The movie really seemed to drag on, with too many cutesy nods to franchise hallmarks.

I actively watched Quantum of Solace, which I'd skipped in 2008. After the Moore-like parodic lows of Brosnan, I think folks were so relieved by Casino Royale's grit that they allowed euphoria to conceal its flaws. Quantum was then overly criticized from the point of its name being announced. The main problem with the sequel is its dependance on Casino Royale for context. It's a revenge flick like License To Kill, but doesn't feature the motivating slight, so it fails to engage the audience's emotions on its own. Some of the action set pieces thrill, others not, and the story meanders considerably (though it's still more clever than Royale in its plots.) Olga Kurylenko plays against her strengths as a Ukrainian actress in a Bond flick by running around with a gross Jersey Shore tan as an unconvincing Bolivian. Gemma Arterton is an element of Bond Girl recidivism as the arch, doomed Strawberry Fields. On the other hand, Mathieu Amalric has been excessively hated as the intentionally weaselly Dominic Greene, who serves his role as a guy you want to meet a bad end while offering a hard pitch for the secret organization Quantum as the new SPECTRE. Giancarlo Giannini makes a much better impression upon returning to the role of Rene Mathis, including one of the all time great scenes in a Bond feature. Daniel Craig had an opportunity to express the pain and anger that drives him to inhuman feats, and better recalls the hard edged Bond of the Fleming novels. Craig may not be my favorite actor to play Bond, but his physicality and intensity make him far and away the best actor to personify Bond as conceived for the novels. I very much enjoyed Marc Forster's stylish direction on a tighter, meaner Bond flick with a solid final set piece and more satisfying closure than the previous entry.

Skyfall took twice as long to get released, and there were years of doubt that any new Bond was forthcoming in the wake of the MGM bankruptcy, much less on time for the fiftieth anniversary of his cinematic debut. Absence, anxiety, and not a little nostalgia seem to have made critics receptive to the point of once again crowing a new Craig film the best Bond ever. I suspect history will not be so kind, as the flick is dumb, dull and downbeat. A foul-up in the cold opening helps to explain why Craig looks so much older, introduces Naomie Harris' serviceable Moneypenny to the new continuity, and sets up the most visually potent title sequence of the new era (which in turn strengthens the impact of Adele's vocal histrionics despite lyrical pablum.) The always exceptional Judi Dench offers her finest turn as M, and Ben Whishaw is creepy cool as the first Q intended to be taken seriously. However, Javier Bardem will one day know scorn for trafficking in homophobia to sell his tepid retread of both Heath Ledger's Joker and several prior, superior Bond villains (Alec Trevelyan by way of Blofeld.) Bérénice Marlohe's treatment as the transparently thin Sévérine is contemptible, while Ralph Fiennes' Gareth Mallory has all the subtly of Poochie in its obvious intention. The screenplay if full of "why did that even happen" and general ridiculousness. An awful lot of fan wankery is pressed into the mess, like a reunited band promoting their new album on tour by playing through their catalog hits in a too desperate bid to reconnect with their audience. The final act is horrid; the least compelling setting and action of any Bond film that I can recall. I was literally fighting off sleep, which is a shame, because director Sam Mendes' earlier set pieces were visually stunning. At least it leaves the pieces in place for less precious and more propulsive entries to come.

Wednesday, December 5, 2012

Wednesday Is Not At All Timely For All I Care #165

B.P.R.D.: 1948 #1
Bedlam #1 (2012)
Liberty Annual 2012
Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles Annual 2012

Got holiday'd, got burned out, got sick, people died, empires crumbled, yadda yadda...

B.P.R.D.: 1948 #1 (Dark Horse, 2012, $3.50)
This was not new reader friendly, following "1946" and "1947" mini-series, which were all about filling backstory of the Hellboy universe to begin with. I've always tended to enjoy the writing of John Arcudi, even when it's too cinematically staged to be satisfying as a comic book, which is the case here. I wish I could see this as a cable mini-series instead of a dry, brief floppy periodical. The only casualty would be the art of Max Fiumara, featuring delightfully skewed caricatures of life wholly appropriate to the off-kilter nature of the environment. For the relatively uninitiated such as myself, it is the saving grace of a book where unfamiliar characters speak cryptically to one another.

Bedlam #1 (Image, 2012, $3.50)
Nick Spencer is one of the better new writers in comics, and I've been waiting for him to do a comic I could get behind. Iron Man 2.0 and Ultimate X-Men were major label bullshit, and even Thief of Thieves seemed like dues-paying within Robert Kirkman's Image fiefdom. Despite my affection for the T.H.U.N.D.E.R. Agents, the "Next Generation" approach and simply being co-opted by Dan Didio's DC kept me from even sampling Spencer's series. Morning Glories has probably been his biggest hit to date, and Existence 2.0/3.0 has been the thing I've liked the best, but neither truly hooked me and both were marred by art from Joe Eisma, who I find deeply off-putting.

Bedlam illustrator Riley Rossmo isn't going to be nominated for a 2012 ...nurgh... Artist I Want To See Draw Things award either, and the whole premise is clearly Gotham Central fan fiction. No one would ever build a major U.S. metropolis under the name of "Bedlam," but as a way to have Arkham Asylum writ large over the whole of Gotham City, it's an appropriate conceit. The book is Spencer doing an unauthorized continuation of the Christopher Nolan Batman films, with the Heath Ledger Joker starring and Gary Oldman's Commissioer Gordon as a supporting player. If I really wanted to reach for analogues, I could even finger the probable Harvey Bullock. The main change-up appears to be Detective Renee Montoya set to take on a Clarice Starling role as the series progresses.

As diminishing as that summary sounds, Spencer's script is effective, with a twist that will make you want to start the book over immediately to read it from a new perspective. 48 pages of involving story for less than four bucks is a huge bargain, and I anxiously await the first trade collection to see if the arc can sustain the tension of this debut. It's my hope that Spencer will do for the not-Dark Knight what Kirkman did for not-George Romero zombies: geek out on the material thoroughly for an extended time as their enthusiasm infects the audience.

The CBLDF Presents Liberty Annual 2012 (Image, 2012, $4.99)
Okay Jonathan Hickman two-pager. Better four pages by Andy Diggle & Ben Templesmith. Alright extended editorial cartoon by Howard Chaykin & Sina Grace. Solid two-fer from Steven T. Seagle & Marco Cinello. Sweet two-fer for Joe Keatinge & Chynna Clugston Major Flores Baxter-Birney. Underwhelming five page James Robinson/J. Bone "Saviors" backdoor trailer. Nifty three pager from James Asmus & Takeshi Miyazawa. Lame Marineman/Hip Flask two page team-up by Richard Starkings & Ian Churchill. Odd single strip from Chris Roberson & Roger Langridge. Gabriel Bà centerfold. Winning Chris Giarrusso strip. Pretty four page Storm Dogs by David Hine & Dougie Braithwaite. Two page Brandon Graham nonsense. Heavy-handed Jim McCann/Janet Lee inspirational. Two page meh from Kieron Gillen, Nate Bellegarde & Jordie Bellaire. Terry Moore channels Charles Scultz for two. Six page Robert Kirkman/Charlie Adlard Walking Dead rounds out and highlights the collection, though the basics were borrowed for the TV show's midseason finale. All in all, I'd say the quality was up this year.

Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles Annual 2012 (IDW, 2012, $8.99)
I always cheered the success of TMNT as a victory for independent comics creators, but I never thought the comic was actually any good at all. Sixty pages of Kevin Eastman story and art are about as painful as three hours of open mic night, rather shameful for a career spanning decades. It was a swell blast from the past to see old school screentones used throughout the book, and entirely necessary, since the art underneath them is still as poor as one would expect from a nobody toiling on an inferior labor of love during the B&W boom. The story is a moronic riff on the car wreck Roshomon section of Guy Ritchie's Snatch, and the characters are such wretchedly arch cliches that there's actually two Scotsmen with phonetic "accents;" the down-on-his-luck boxer and the bartender, and both of whom should probably have been Irish. Of course the black guy ("Brooklyn S. Bridge," a joke Rob Liefeld used in 1992) is the one who wants to keep the ill-gotten loot, because nigga-wah? Nigga-who? That sort of inanity goes on for page after page, and life is just too short, amiright?


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