The Songs of Johnny Go

This blogger's interpretation of Two-Face has shaken this Harvey Dent fanboy to the core. He makes a great point, and it flies in the face of possibly everything I hold to be the essence of the character. Obviously, I don't agree, but I'm having a hard time explaining just why in the face of those very compelling points. Expect an epic post in response, depending on what happens when I parse it out with Henchgirl tonight. Man, I really need to start up that about_faces LJ.

And to make it worse, the blog seems to be affiliated with my store's old nemesis, Big Monkey Comics. My boss had a fit when they opened their store in Georgetown, a mere three blocks from our shop, the well-established Big Planet Comics, knowing it would confuse the hell out of people. Big Monkey's boss was like, "Yeah, as if people can't tell the difference between a planet and a monkey." Which, as it turns out, they couldn't, if years of people say of "I can't remember the name, it was 'Big Something Comics,' like, 'Big Blah-Blah Comics...'" is any indication.

I still have loyalty to my shop, which is helped by the fact that the Big Planet way of selling comics is superior to any store I've seen. Simply put, it's about the enjoyment of comics, not the collecting of them. Did I rant here about how much I hate hate hate shops that bag and board their new and recent issues, so customers can't browse in the store? Because I do. Lordy, how I do.

And now, I have my sole regret for missing Baltimore Comic Con this year:

Bendis vs. Kirkman

That's twice now* that Robert Kirkman has seemingly broken through the pablum of these Con panels and their self-congratulatory smugness. I can't stand panels, since they're usually about as genuine as a White House press conference, but now I'm gonna make it a point to see every one of Kirkman's where I can. Not only does he write two of the very best monthly comics out there today--INVINCIBLE and THE WALKING DEAD--he has the both the insight and the vision to back up those huge balls of his.

I don't now how right he is, but he's bringing up the topics that Marvel and DC don't want people discussing since they're far more content to rest on their laurels and keep the ship going. But we in the comics industry, fans and professionals alike, need to be addressing all this. For all that I bitch about the current states of DC and Marvel, I still love those companies and their characters (and still happily follow enough books that I think prevents me from being a Comic Book Guy), but they're all too content to be big fish in a small pond, one that gets smaller as comic fans get older.

In the eight years I worked at Big Planet (with breaks for college), the vast majority of regular comic buyers were between twenty-five and fifty. Shit, when I first became a regular comic reader at age thirteen, I knew of maybe two other kids in my entire middle school who read comics. As I went to high school and then college, it stayed the same. Trust me, if anyone else read comics, we would have found each other. Geek radar is amazing.

DC and Marvel don't want to discuss how the industry is starting to resemble CHILDREN OF MEN here, but that was my experience over the past eight years, and Kirkman's findings only back that up. Hopefully people will listen, or at least the discussion will continue, now that Kirkman drank Bendis' milkshake.



*From San Diego 2006, when he drank Todd McFarlane's milkshake.

A few weeks ago, during my short-lived obsession with falafel, I went to the Georgetown Quick Pita and discovered a brand-new shop opening up across the street. Its name was "Georgetown Cupcake."

My immediate first thought was that it had to be ironic, like the teen jewlery store "Icing" or "Banana Republic," a cute name for a non-food shop. Or at least, a restaurant/coffee house that sold more than just cupcakes. No way in hell a shop, tucked away off M street in Georgetown, could possibly survive just selling cupcakes and coffee.

In the weeks since it's opened, the line for Georgetown Cupcake has been stretched around the block. And indeed, it's all simply for cupcakes and coffee.

Now, I never much cared for cake in general. It's nice enough, sure, essential for birthdays and weddings. But like all good people with souls intact, I'm a pie man. Everybody loves or should love pie. Pie is everything good and warm and gooey wrapped up in a crust of similar, complementary delightfulness. Whether it be fruit, meat, cheese, spinach, Chiron, and/or Demitrius, pie is always a good thing, and generally superior to what is essentially a sweet bread (not to be confused with actual sweetbreads, which can be found in Chiron & Demitrius pie).

So cakes and cupcakes hold no special appeal for me, and heck, I'm seriously trying to limit my intake of junk and sweets. As the comic shop is across the street from Five Guys Burgers (best in DC!) and a couple blocks from Thomas Sweet's Ice Cream and Home-Made Fudge (from which, I confess, I have lately indulged in a MILKSHAKE or two), I've built up a lot of willpower over the years.

But as Monday was my birthday, I decided I would treat myself. So I strolled on over to discover that it... was closed. Closed Mondays. Birthday, differed.

So Tuesday rolls around, and I'm on my lunch break, so I decide now, NOW, I would finally have my cupcake. But no, the store was closed, a sign in the door reading, "Sold Out of Cupcakes. Will Have More After 5pm." Soooooo I went there after work, beholding the menu of all the cupcakes they had on display--Red Velvet, Vanilla Squared, Chocolate Squared, Chocolate Cubed, Lemon Blossom, Blueberry Coffee Cake, Honey Yogurt, and many more--but in fact, they only had one style left: coconut with cream cheese frosting. Many people hate coconut for some reason. Fortunately for me, I adore it.

And after explaining my plight, the frustration of a cupcake-less birthday the owner gave me the coconut cupcake for free! Hell, I really wasn't fishing for that. I was just trying to make conversation, or maybe get them to give me special sprinkles or something! Maybe sing to me like they do at Bennigans! So I silently vowed that I would return and buy more cupcakes... but only if they really were anything special, because really, how good can a cupc--

...

oh dear sweet fucknutters wow.

Maybe I'm just not used to hand-made from-scratch cupcakes. Maybe I'm just accustomed to a lifetime of Betty Crocker and frosting that either comes from a can or is my mother's decorative Crisco frosting (NOT for mass consumption, Grandma). Maybe it was just the minor triumph of the moment. I'm not going to say it was the best cupcake I've ever had, even if I can't think of any that topped the experience, but at that moment (to paraphrase the PINEAPPLE EXPRESS trailer) that cupcake tasted like God's vagina.

So I went back the next afternoon... and they were sold out. Fuck.

And I went back that evening, after they'd made more... and were sold fucking out fucking again.

That night, I literally dreamt of cupcakes. Or rather, the continued failure to get there before the cupcakes were all gone. I tried visiting that store several times in my dreams, but each time, they started selling bagels, burgers, and all manner of new foods... but nope, still sold out of cupcakes! And then the bakers and baristas all laughed at me because I was naked. I woke up in a cold sweat.

And so went there this morning, and discovered that 1.) there were already ten people waiting in line outside the shop, and 2.) the shop didn't open until 11:00, which is the same time I needed to open the COMIC shop! After waiting till the last minute, I said "fuck it, I'll call them up and ask them to hold me a cupcake." I eventually did, but they said they weren't sure if they'd be able to do so, since the line was still crazy, but they'd try.

Back at work, I threw the "Back in Five Minutes" sign in the window and headed down four blocks to Georgetown Cupcake, where the line was shorter... but standstill. Fifteen minutes I stood in that line, waiting for the drenched gray sky to open up, neglecting my comic shop and making absolutely zero headway. I had no choice but to bail out, taking a meager consolation falafel from Quick Pita, and head back to find my own line waiting for me outside the comic shop. Okay, well, it was just one guy, but still. A poor neglected BUFFY fan, and all for the want of a cupcake.

Hours passed before the store was empty again to throw the sign back in the window. But rather than go all the way there for nothing again, I called them up first to ask how the line was, and if it was still bad, to pass my cupcake along to someone else. A different, less friendly (as you would be having to deal with rabid cupcake enthusiasts) clerk said the line was bad as ever, and on top of it, they were out. Furthermore, the new batch of cupcakes they were making would likely be sold out by the time I got out of work. And it's not their policy to reserve cupcakes.

Oh, you thought a post this long was going somewhere in particular? Nope! It has all ended in continual failure, and now here I sit: a bubbling mass of cupcake-less frustration.

Mayhaps I shall make one last cupcake attempt later today. We shall see. *sobs* I just want a fucking cupcake, people!

Oh Starro the Star Conquerer, where are you when I need you?

In comics this week, DETECTIVE COMICS # 841 is Heffie's Must-Buy issue. This is probably the best Mad Hatter story I've read in recent memory, but bear in mind, I speak as someone who far prefers the animated series' take (with Roddy McDowall goodness!) to the Hatter of the comics for the past fifteen years, a creepy tea-drugging pedophile. There was a time when the Hatter was seriously one of my favorite Bat-villains, and this issue has reminded me why.

(As has--I might add--this surprisingly well-done webcomic based on the animated Hatter. Oh Jervis, you tho cwazy.)



Meanwhile, in BATMAN CONFIDENTIAL, we get the final part of the Joker's new origin. Could have been worse, could have been a hell of a lot better, which is about what I'd expect from Michael Green, one of the writers of TV's HEROES. As long as it's considered one of the Joker's possible origins rather than the definitive origin ("The Killing Joke" can't even be considered this anymore), all will be well with the world.



And then there's THE BOYS. Oh gee, Garth Ennis, an issue where someone calls Jesus a sadistic bastard and then loses their faith? Wow, never seen that one from you before. Between that, your hatred of superheroes, and fetish for male butt-fucking, it's the most original thing you've ever written! Keep up the good work!

P.S., your book CHRONICLES OF WORMWOOD is also lazy bullcrap of yours. BATTLE POPE does hilarious blasphemy wayyyyy better. It's at least funny, whereas you can't seem to remove yourself from your own bitter prejudices. You said what you needed to say with PREACHER, pally, and you said it damn well there. Get over it.

That said, the latest issue of PUNISHER was utterly devastating. Some of the best work Ennis has ever written. Now this book right here would be an excellent discussion piece for violence in storytelling. It's unrelentingly gory and explicit, one of the most violent books on the mainstream stands, unreadable by the standards of more sensitive folk, and yet I wouldn't call it gratuitous. The book gets more harrowing with each issue, making REQUIEM FOR A DREAM look like DORA THE EXPLORER, and I can't wait to see what Ennis has up his sleeve for the final part.



THE TWELVE continues to be promising (but like all things in life, it needs more Blue Blade!), and has to potential to be a little masterpiece for JMS. Check it out. Where else will you see speedo-wearing Nazi-smashing superheroes with leg stubble?



Why aren't more people reading JONAH HEX? Rectify this immediately.

Furthermore, since we're talking DC westerns, why is no one reading BAT LASH? It's Sergio Aragones and John Severn! Shape up, people!

I'm at work. But I shouldn't be at work. Oh, I'm supposed to be here, as my manager informed me just yesterday afternoon, until which time the Saturday work slot was up in the air. And while it was up in the air, I made other plans with thirdbase, plans which should have come into fruition at this very moment.

But no, I've been dicked over. And now I'm stuck at work. All day.

Instead of being with my friends, the Rude Mechanicals, at the COOKIE TASTING PARTY.

This blows on so many levels.




In other news, fiveseconddelay and I caught THERE WILL BE BLOOD.

... okay, I think I need to see it again. Certain plot points were confusing, and I'm not certain if we were supposed to figure these certain things out or not.

And there wasn't as much Bill the Butcher going on as I'd hoped, but he was there. Oh yes, he was there when it mattered. But on first viewing, I think I still prefer Daniel Day-Lewis' performance in GANGS OF NEW YORK. Don't get me wrong, if he wins best actor for THERE WILL BE BLOOD, he fucking well deserves it. I'm just saying that Daniel Plainview would take a bit longer to kill a full-grown grizzly with his bare hands than would Mr. William Cutting.

I'm not disappointed in THERE WILL BE BLOOD, exactly. It was damn excellent. It just met my expectations, which is good, except what I was really expecting was to have it surpass my expectations. If that makes any sense. And it didn't. Surpass those expectations, that is. I wanted to be, "Holy shit, shoot me in the ass with the Orgazmo gun, that was amazing!" Instead, I was, "... Hm. That was damn good."

Most critics are calling it either the best or second best film of 2007. I need to see it again to catch what I missed the first time around.

And maybe, just maybe, I need to rewatch PUNCH-DRUNK LOVE, a movie I fucking abhorred like few others in the history of cinema, considering that virtually all critics are still calling it a work of modern brilliance.



Psst, disc_sophist, the first issue of THE TWELVE hits stores next week. Starring the single greatest comic character of the new millennium, resurrected from the last, THE GODDAMN BLUE BLADE.

He's so dead. But he'll be magnificent while he survives.

Between insomnia, congestion, and the fact that BON COP, BAD COP was on TV (good fun, little_dinosaur!), I'm currently running on five hours of sleep. It didn't help that I was woken up super-early because my grandmother had fallen and Mom needed her strong men to help pick her up. It almost didn't happen; the woman's like a small elephant. A small dead-weight elephant.

And it's New Comics Day, which means A.) it'll be bugfuck hectic, and B.) I'll be here till 8:00.

And even after all this, I'm still hoping to catch THERE WILL BE BLOOD. What the hell, it's next week? No new movies today because of Wednesday? What fresh fuckery is this?

So, at what point will I start believing that I'm some kind of hummingbird?



On the supremely plus side, Marvel's put out a new DAREDEVIL BY FRANK MILLER hardcover which includes the little masterpiece "Born Again," long-out of print and one of my all-time favorite comics. I wish it could be completely recolored, but at least it's not all dotty and newsprinty.

Also included is "Love and War" with Bill "Man-God" Sienkiewicz, "The Man Without Fear," with JRJR (already have it, but why the hell not?), and even that excellent stand-alone issue drawn by Mazzucchelli where Matt doesn't speak a word.

Well, well worth the sixty bucks.