Last week, we lost one hell of an ongoing series with Punisher MAX #22 by Jason Aaron and Steve Dillon. A lot of the time, when a series is canceled, the writer will claim that it isn’t true and that they insisted it end at this point. Sometimes it smells like bullshit, but here it’s legit as Aaron takes the MAX incarnation of the character to the logical conclusion. Frank Castle of Earth-200111 (yes, I looked it up), is dead. After taking on MAX incarnations of some of his usual punching bags, Frank’s body has finally given out and he collapses after being the last man standing one last time.

But so what? So he’s dead. Big deal. Frank Castle dies all the time, doesn’t he? Sure. I’ve seen it so many times I decided to take a trip down memory lane. As far as I can tell, here is the master list of all the times Frank has kicked the bucket. Now, of course, I’m not counting any “Earth blows up” scenarios because that goes without saying. I don’t need to mention every single time the Phoenix devours the universe. It has to be specifically about Frank buying the farm. I’ll also pass on the really vague mentions, like how he died somewhere along the line prior to Punisher 2099.

Despite debuting in 1974, it would take 17 years for any version of Frank to die. Not only did he die in 1991, but he died a lot. In the second volume of Marvel’s What If, Frank died three issues in a row! Let’s begin with that.

Comic: What If #24 (What If Wolverine Was Lord of the Vampires?)
Year: 1991
Writer: Roy Thomas and R.J.M. Lofficier
Artist: Tom Morgan
Background: The world of this issue is based on the time the X-Men fought Dracula. Rather than be defeated, Dracula turns the team to his side. Wolverine, being so awesome, has enough willpower to challenge Dracula. He ends up killing the Count and takes over his throne. While these days, a supernatural outbreak needs to take over the entire world to show that shit’s gotten real, Wolverine is happy enough taking over Manhattan and using it as his vampire nest. With no real reason given, some heroes and villains are turned to slaves while others are ordered by Wolverine to be killed completely. I feel the need to mention that artist Tom Morgan decided to include Frog-Man of all people into that latter group. Anyway, the whole city is in chaos and in that chaos is Frank Castle with a headband and a whole lot of silver bullets.

In regular continuity, Dr. Strange would read a spell that would wipe out all vampires. Vampire Wolverine gets wind of this and has Vampire Juggernaut take down Strange. Strange possesses the bitching cape and the Eye of Agamotto, then joins it with the Punisher to make the ultimate vampire-killing machine. Because nobody cared about Blade back then.

Punisher killing superhero vampires is a thing to see. He melts Colossus with holy water and fries Juggernaut with the Eye of Agamotto. That leads him to a one-on-one fight with Wolverine.

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Here’s Marvel publisher Dan Buckley in an interview with Kiel Phegley of Comic Book Resources on the subject of Marvel’s… overall status in 2012, I guess:

First, I want to clarify that we do not do “crossover” events. This is [an] important distinction. I was here in the ’90s when “crossover” events were the norm, which is when you make a reader buy four or more different titles in a specific order to get the whole story. “Galactic Storm” is the example that jumps out from my memory banks.

Marvel’s biggest 2012 publishing initiative is the 12-part “Avengers Vs. X-Men” event
We do line-wide editorial events. These events usually involve a core book like “Civil War,” “Secret Invasion,” “Siege,” etc. that could be read on their own for the complete story. Other books in the line will then use that event to develop “tie-in” stories which could be “in line,” a new miniseries or one-shot. Sorry to go off on a tangent but this is a very important distinction because we are not requiring the fans to buy into three or four other ongoing series to get the main story.

At the end of each issue of Fear Itself, Marvel’s tentpole event for 2011, readers were urged to pick up other comics, like Journey Into Mystery or Invincible Iron Man, to find out the rest of the story. There were characters who just suddenly popped up for what seemed like no good reason if you didn’t read other comics, and those comics had big fights, plot twists, and more. Maybe those are tie-ins by Buckley’s definition, but my understanding (from interminable conversations with friends who read the series) is that Fear Itself 1-7 was not a complete story, unless you’re using the most generous definition of complete in the entire world.

Marvel recently announced an event for 2012 called The Omega Effect. I quote: “”The Omega Effect” begins in April in “Avenging Spider-Man” #6, continuing to “Daredevil” #11 and “Punisher” #10.”

A couple weeks ago, Mark Waid, Emma Rios, Kano, and Javier Rodriguez did a banging two-part story. Part one was in Amazing Spider-Man 677. Part two was in Daredevil 8, which apparently isn’t available on ComiXology because Marvel is intent on being as awkward as possible about digital comics. (see also: Secret Avengers 22 and Thunderbolts being exclusive to Marvel’s ComiXology-powered app but not being on ComiXology itself, the inability to buy Marvel digital comics via retailer affiliates, absurd pricing schemes, etc)

The X-Men status quo right now has its roots in Second Coming, an event from 2010. From Wikipedia:

Chapter 1: X-Men: Second Coming #1
Chapter 2: Uncanny X-Men #523
Chapter 3: New Mutants #12
Chapter 4: X-Men: Legacy #235
Chapter 5: X-Force #26
Chapter 6: Uncanny X-Men #524
Chapter 7: New Mutants #13
Chapter 8: X-Men: Legacy #236
Chapter 9: X-Force #27
Chapter 10: Uncanny X-Men #525
Chapter 11: New Mutants #14
Chapter 12: X-Men: Legacy #237
Chapter 13: X-Force #28
Chapter 14: X-Men: Second Coming #2

Before that was Utopia in 2009. More wikcraft:

Chapter 1: Dark Avengers/Uncanny X-Men: Utopia #1 (one-shot)
Chapter 2: Uncanny X-Men #513
Chapter 3: Dark Avengers #7
Chapter 4: Uncanny X-Men #514
Chapter 5: Dark Avengers #8
Chapter 6: Dark Avengers/Uncanny X-Men: Exodus #1 (one-shot)
Epilogue: Dark X-Men: The Confession #1 (one-shot)
Aftermath: Dark Reign: The List – Uncanny X-Men #1 (one-shot)

World War Hulks in 2010:

Hulk vol. 2 #22-24
Incredible Hulk #609-611
World War Hulks #1
World War Hulks Hulked Out Heroes #1-2
World War Hulks Spider-Man vs Thor #1-2
World War Hulks Wolverine vs Captain America #1-2
Fall of the Hulks Red Hulk #4
Fall of the Hulks Savage She-Hulks #2-3

Age of X, 2011:

Age of X: Alpha
X-Men: Legacy #245–247
New Mutants #22–24
Age of X: Universe #1–2

Buckley, rephrased: “We don’t do crossovers, except for the five we did in the past two years, the one we just finished, and the one we just announced the other day. But other than that, no crossovers! We hate those things!”

I feel like if you’re going to lie in an interview for the sake of… I’m not even entirely sure of his point. It’s some kind of rah-rah “We do right by our fans, we don’t jerk them around by making them buy a bunch of comics they don’t want” thing, I guess. But anyway, if you’re going to lie for whatever reason it is that Buckley is lying here, then at least tell a lie that isn’t easy to disprove with half a moment’s thought and a single Google search.

And make no mistake, this is a blatant lie, an untruth, a falsehood, the sort of thing your mother would and should swat your lips for. It isn’t spin, which is what DC does when they “clarify” sales figures one month to passive-aggressively show how the numbers don’t really matter and then crow about the numbers the next month on the exact same site.

I’m not sure which is more insulting, actually, the spin or the lie. Both assume that you, the reader, are an idiot with no memory and no sense. Then again… Buckley’s lie did get me to read the rest of the interview to see what else he lied about, so mission accomplished there, man.

It’s not hard to not lie. Marvel has a fistful of great books by talented folks. DC… most of it isn’t to my taste, but sure, let’s say the same for them, too. That’s what you should be crowing about, rather than fake numbers or fake stands that you have taken for the sake of the fans. “We got that new Ann Nocenti! New Ed Brubaker! Holler at us!”

I mean, is this how dumb they think we are? Seriously? C’mon, son. Who’re you trying to fool and why?

What I like most about Joe Casey & Tom Scioli’s Godland is just how unbelievably happy it is to be a comic book. I remember reading the first trade years ago and not really getting it. The Kirby influence put me off, I think, and I wasn’t quite a full-fledged member of the Joe Casey Fanclub yet. I read the series front to back recently, though, and greatly enjoyed it.

A big part of the reason why Godland is so delightful is stuff like this from issue 18:

Casey’s dialogue pretty much never stops being straight out of the modern comics industry. The inconsistent censorship makes me think of that first wave of Image books back in the day. For the most part, he’s putting a 21st century spin on concepts that have their roots in things like Stan Lee’s verbose and tortured Silver Surfer or Kirby’s remarkably petty Darkseid.

The captions keep drawing my attention, though. Sometimes, he plays it straight Stan Lee, with a lovable huckster nudging you in the ribs and pointing out how genius he is. At other points, he goes straight Jim Starlin, throwing cosmic language at you and expecting you to keep up.

And then, right here, he splits the difference between the two and comes up with something sublime.

Last week we heard the big news that DC is going to be releasing Before Watchmen, a series of prequels about the adventures of everyone’s favorite dysfunctional vigilantes. The thing has been nothing less than controversial, erupting in anger from many and curiosity from others. This isn’t about that debate. There are other places for such a thing.

The one thing I will say is that shameless cash-grab or not, at least DC is putting their ankle into it. They aren’t half-assing this. Of all their talent on the project, the most troublesome is a guy who at least once gave us a cartoon where the Ghostbusters killed Cthulhu with a rollercoaster. Sure, JMS is pretty bad now, but at least there’s the possibility that he could get his head into the game and make some decent lemonade.

A couple days ago, Bleeding Cool revealed that we dodged one hell of a bullet as Kevin Smith was offered a spot in the Watchmen Writer Illuminati. He turned them down for a damn good reason: even at his best, he’s a complete ill-fit for anything Watchmen.

Talked to Jim [Lee] and Dan [DiDio] about it two years ago. Only passed because I’m not Alan Moore, sadly. If I was Alan Moore, I’d be all over it. As Kevin Smith, I’d likely just make Bubastis “big pussy” jokes and have Rorschach wet himself. Hurm.

Smith made a couple jokes at his own expense, but the more I looked at it, the more I realized how much “Kevin Smith’s Watchmen” writes itself. I wanted to make a quick response, only the punchlines kept piling up in my mind. So for your enjoyment or annoyance, here are 25 jokes to be made about Kevin Smith writing Watchmen.

1) Ozymandias: I did it 37 dicks ago.

2) The miniseries is six issues, but DC releases #4 followed by #2 and then cancels it.

3) Nite Owl: It’s like I’m Blue Beetle, you’re the Question, she’s Nightshade and we’re in that fucked up bar!

4) Rorschach: What is a Nubian? Hurm. Must investigate further.

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I’ve started reading The Invisibles because I wanted to read something very unlike regular comics, and something I’d want to respond to.  It half-worked.  The Invisibles is, in its allusions, its characters, its narrative, and its aims far different from mainstream comics.  I don’t have much to say about it, though, at least not at this point.  Part of that is its departure from comics.

No one can say that Grant Morrison doesn’t fully flesh out his characters.  They’re great, voluptuous, curvy things by the time he gets done with them, which is why they so often bother me.  The central character of volume one, who becomes Jack Frost and who I will refer to by his ‘superhero’ name for simplicity’s sake, starts out as a mean, ungrateful, character who has a mind but prefers not to use it, opting for mindless violence.  The book starts out with him burning a library.  Perhaps a loftier reader could look at this with a detached interest.  I really can’t.  My immediate reaction to things like that is to mutter, “You ass!  You’re ruining it for everyone!”  After that, I nurse a dislike for the character, a little like a sore spot, to the point where I giggled just a bit when someone snipped off his finger.  (I’d flipped to the back to make sure he came out okay, first.  I’m not a monster.)

The problem is I couldn’t enjoy my dislike, because of the scenes in which it shows, in part, why the kid was screwed up the way he was.  It seemed like every time he asked for a break, or looked to someone for basic compassion and understanding, people turned away.  Which is why I could understand when, after being caught by police, sent to a sadistic indoctrination center posing as a correctional facility, and living on the streets until he nearly starves, he grabs on to the first person to be even the slightest bit nice to him.  Luckily, Tom seems to be on the side of the Invisibles, if not the angels, and dispenses wisdom in manageable bunches.  What I didn’t understand is why Tom tended to dispense that wisdom via eye-stealing, pushing off cliffs, or brutal ass-kicking.  I suppose some comics conventions can’t be discarded.

The middle third of the story can be roughly described as Tom using compassion, dogged-perseverance, magic, and the occasional beating to gradually get the kid to shed all the miserable stuff he’d believed made him strong, and then Tom symbolically dies and turns the kid over to The Invisibles, a group of misfits fighting a personified conformity.  They go back in time.  Mary Shelley, Percy Bysshe Shelley, and (unfortunately) the Marquis de Sade make appearances, sometimes in their time, sometimes in our own, and sometimes in a surreal dream space.  A guy with somebody else’s face attacks them.   They split up and star in vignettes about individuality.  Jack Frost quits the Invisibles.  We all know he’ll be back.

And that’s where The Invisibles shakes me.  It’s not that I don’t think the various stories indicate inventive ideas, and it’s not that I don’t think that that’s valuable.  It’s just that at some point the first volume becomes like being told a person’s dreams; and not their first dream, or their most interesting dream, but an entire night’s worth of dreaming.  If there’s one thing you can rely on mainstream comics for, it’s a story set around a clear central concept.  If you forget what that concept is, it will be restated up to three times per floppy.  I like structure – a plot that snaps together.  This is one of the reasons I liked the Rogers’ Blue Beetle series so much.  Random digressions happened all the time, but in the end the entire series stacked up to something with a structure.  Still, this is the first volume of The Invisibles.  We’ll see how the rest progress.

When we last left our sorta heroes, Hawkeye stepped into the room to alert the Thunderbolts to his presence… and to let them know that he clogged the toilet. Thunderbolts #21 follows up on that with the team making a joint effort in trying to take Hawkeye down. Much like any given Garth Ennis protagonist, the guy with no powers proceeds to clown everyone. Not just with his trick arrows, but with his ability to make the Thunderbolts trip over each other.

The deal is that if he could last five minutes, the team would have to hear his pitch. And what a pitch! He’s talked it over with Henry Gyrich and the government bigwigs and wants to lead the Thunderbolts. Sure, he was annoyed by the whole Masters of Evil façade, but was he really all that different before joining the Avengers? Suddenly the Black Widow flashback story from the first year seems like less of a throwaway issue as it’s really there to seep Hawkeye into our reader consciousness.

The team is open to this idea, except for Songbird. She desperately screams that this is all a trick and flies off. MACH offers to go talk to her and it’s a good thing, since she’s having a very public tantrum that’s brought the National Guard into this. He gets her away from the battle, but his shoddy armor starts to fall apart and they crash into a condemned building. Songbird makes a sound-based shield to keep the authorities out and MACH finally mans up and talks to her about her recent personality shift.

Songbird goes into her life. Between her parents, her first love, the Grapplers, the Masters of Evil, her relationship with Angar the Screamer and the emotional twisting that came from Zemo’s Thunderbolts plan, her life has been nothing but a series of hope leading directly into soul-crushing failure and she can’t take it anymore. Hawkeye’s idea sounds nice, but she knows it’ll only kill her on the inside yet again. MACH promises that despite her attempts to push him away, he’ll always be there for her. Which is all nice, but they also have that whole National Guard situation to deal with. Luckily, Hawkeye and the rest bail them out. This does lead to there being footage of Hawkeye working with the Thunderbolts and the media isn’t so sure how to handle that.

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The Jack Kirby case broke me, in a way. This is as good a round-up as you’ll find online. You should read it, because Tom Spurgeon is very good at his job. The short version is basically that, according to the law, Jack Kirby created all those characters and drew all those pages for Marvel under a work-for-hire contract, and therefore has no stake in the ownership of the characters he co-created or created wholesale.

Reading up on this case made me realize that a significant portion of the comics industry is built on exploitation. The law agrees with Marvel, but Marvel is the company that put language on their paychecks that forced you to relinquish ownership before you could get paid. Your choice, after completing the job, was either play ball or starve, which isn’t really a choice at all, near as I can tell. They’re the company that claimed ownership over the original art their artists created, preventing them from selling that art on the secondary market to supplement their income. (I’d heard that they lost a significant amount of that original art in a flood in the ’80s, and several of my smarter friends have, but I couldn’t find corroboration online, so maybe it’s fake, I dunno.) They’re the company that stitched Steve Ditko and Jack Kirby out and penciled in “Stan Lee Presents.” Kirby might have signed a bad contract or whatever, but he was working with snakes.

I believe that Kirby deserves the ownership he was cheated out of, and his heirs deserve his cut of what he should have earned. I feel like if you do a job for me, and you help make me a success, I owe you. I owe you big, and I should do my level best to reward you for that. Maybe that’s how I was raised. But I think that’s a healthier way to do business than leaving scorched earth behind every interaction you have with your talent.

I think Marvel should have made a deal for profit-sharing or whatever a long time ago. I think that right now, Marvel has the prestige and cash to make that happen, but the law is on their side and the accountants would never allow it, no matter how much the men and women who do the actual work at Marvel might want to. Maybe that’s irony, I dunno.

This story, and the story of the Siegel & Shuster lawsuits against DC Comics/Time Warner, rubbed me the wrong way. It makes the ugliness beneath the spandex plain. It draws all of these shadows that I was comfortable ignoring into the light. It forces me to make a choice: how strong are my morals? How much do I believe in right and wrong?

I still don’t have an answer. The hardline, no compromises side of morality says that I should wash my hands of both companies behind their history. I’ve done it in minor ways. I’m not reading Action Comics because I think it’s gross that Grant Morrison didn’t live up to the picture he painted of himself that I bought into. He went from counter-culture icon speaking at Disinfo to the guy mocking Sandman fans and just saying that Siegel and Shuster signed a contract. I’m not reading any of Jonathan Hickman’s Fantastic Four or FF, either. I get the reasoning behind the little dedications to Stan & Jack in each issue, but that’s just a reminder that, hey, Marvel wouldn’t exist without this guy (or Romita or Ditko or Buscema or Lee) and they refuse to credit him with that fact. But if the comics were better, if it were the Grant Morrison who blew my mind with Flex Mentallo instead of whoever it is writing Action Comics, would I stick to the courage of my convictions?

I like the Hulk. He’s a Lee/Kirby co-creation. Jeff Parker’s Hulk is one of Marvel’s best comics, month-in, month-out. I buy it month-in, month-out. Does that make me a hypocrite? It probably does, depending on how generous you’re feeling at the moment. But at the same time… Parker and the rest of the creative team didn’t do anything wrong. Their only crime is having good ideas and being good at their job. It’s Marvel that’s the villain. Is that how I rationalize my purchases to myself?

There’s also the matter of, if Kirby is responsible for so much of Marvel’s output, and Siegel & Shuster for DC’s, then both companies are rotten from the inside out and should be shunned on that basis. The United States and its history of oppression and genocide is next on the list, I figure.

I struggle. Sometimes I come down on the side of “I buy this because I like it, and the past is the past and hopefully the people in charge aren’t complete douchebags now.” On some days, it’s the other thing. I don’t have an answer, and probably never will. I take things as they come. It’s… probably not consistent, but it is what it is. I’m still figuring out this whole “living” thing.

One thing I hate, and I mean hate with the burning fire of a thousand screaming suns, is how my fellow comics fans look at ownership. We wouldn’t have comics if not for these people, and it’s absurd that the companies and their fans are so okay with screwing these people over time and time again.

I’m trying to do better, in large part because the Kirby lawsuit opened my eyes. I’m a tremendous fan of his work and his influence on comics. It’s harder to look away after something has been made plain. “Comics will break your heart,” right?

In the beginning was Wolverine. He was without form and void, a mystery man with sharp claws and hard edges. He was particularly interesting when compared to Cyclops, a strait-laced and fairly open leader. As time went on, Wolverine’s mysteries faded, only to be replaced by ninjas, samurai codes, globe-trotting espionage, and more. While we once knew next to nothing about Wolverine, we began to know entirely too much. Still later, we discovered Wolverine’s actual origin, and all was lost. Lamentation. Lamentation.

Wolverine tales since have tended to focus on his history and past. His son, Daken, returns to haunt him. A secret mastermind behind a group of clawed mutants emerges from the darkness to try to kill him. He discovers that he has sired several children over the years shortly after killing them while battling an enemy composed of people from his past. Too many Wolverine stories tend to be about Wolverine and things that he has done, rather than placing Wolverine into new situations and seeing what happens.

The reason why Wolverine: The Best There Is is the best Wolverine story of 2011 is simple. It takes a very Wolverine-unfriendly idea–immortal enemies that cannot be killed with claws and the threat of apocalyptic germ warfare–and throws Wolverine directly into the middle of it. Wolverine’s traditional methods, like berserker rages and healing from any wound, are weaknesses here. The enemies, code-named “Unkillables,” are a motley crew of regenerators and immortals. Madcap and Suicide, the Ghost Rider Villain, are the highest profile villains in the crew. The rest are new creations, fifty-year old characters who appeared in comics once (twice if you count reprints), and people like Mortigan Goth, who appeared in Marvel UK’s attempt at getting in on some of Vertigo’s market share in the early ’90s. A couple supporting characters show up later on who are from ’70s-era cosmic Marvel comics. Everyone involved is as obscure as obscure gets, basically.

And yet–the story works. Rather than being a story where Wolverine is the absolute best there is at what he does, and what he does is tear through anyone and everyone with ease, we get a story where Wolverine is forced to slow down, change his tactics, and think things through before really getting loose (because we have expectations for Wolverine stories, of course).

Charlie Huston’s one of the best at depicting urgency, nervousness, and confusion. His dialogue comes in clipped, rapid-fire sentences that beg for you to fill in the blank, like an obfuscated James Ellroy. People interrupt and talk over each other, speak half-formed thoughts out into the ether, and argue incessantly. Not only is Wolverine out of his depth, but he’s forced to conversate with people he had would otherwise cross the street to avoid (spacemen, mainly) and deal with the theatrics of the lead villain. The speedy patter gives the entire book the feel of a train headed straight for a collision with the end of the world. Something is going to go down–it’s just a matter of what and when.

Juan Jose Ryp’s artwork and Andres Mossa’s colors are great, too. This is much uglier than Wolverine has been in years. Buildings are cluttered with litter and walls are pockmarked with age. Everything is rusted and water damaged. It’s filthy, and it looks so good. Ryp and Mossa render gore and cheesecake/beefcake with equal skill (this is despite the rating of the book preventing actual nudity, resulting in wisps of smoke and cleverly placed obstructions over everyone’s crotch). Together, they have sort of a Geof Darrow with OCD style. Everything goes hyper-detailed, for better or for worse. (Sometimes for worse, but the better is so good that I don’t mind.)

Wolverine: The Best There Is is gross. It’s gross in all the right ways. It throws a character we all know well into new situations and provided a welcome respite from the rather dour nature of Wolverine comics these days. It’s funny, it’s violent, and it doesn’t feel like a regular old Marvel comic. It’s a little dirtier, and a little more juvenile, but even more enjoyable than usual for those exact reasons.

I can’t say I don’t care about Before Watchmen, but I don’t care a lot about it. I don’t like Alan Moore and Dave Gibbons’s Watchmen enough to be interested in more work in that setting in and of itself, but the creative teams, with the exception of Joseph Michael Stracynski, seem fairly interesting. I think it’s a bit of a crap move on all parts, considering the history of the book and its creators, but hey, comics is powered by tears and exploitation. I’ll maybe check out the books Brian Azzarello is working on, but more likely… I won’t.

Lucas Siegel, Newsarama’s (chief? senior?) editor wrote an opinion piece about why Before Watchmen is a good idea. Setting aside the obvious hit-whoring aspect of the piece (in this case, chiming in on the hot-button topic of the day requires a fistful of passive-aggressive shots, getting the name of a major work wrong, making a bunch of specious assumptions, and then cheerleading til your throat’s sore instead of overloading on snark and sneering your opinion out at the ignorant plebes who Just Don’t Get It), he said one thing I thought was disgusting coming from a comics fan, and appalling coming from a comics journalist, one of the gatekeepers of the culture:

Some will point to Alan Moore’s lack of “approval” or involvement as a bad thing, but that’s one of the best parts in my eyes. It’s good to see new creators taking on these characters. it’s good to have fresh voices reaching into these characters. If a character is compelling, there should always be more stories to tell. Moore’s assessment that DC is relying on his “ideas from 25 years ago” is ludicrous and insulting to the talented people working on these books. He didn’t write prequels, they’re writing them. It’s like saying all of his use of public domain characters is him relying on other peoples’ ideas from 100 years ago: he can’t have it both ways.

The bolds are mine, though I really probably could have bolded everything, triple underlined, and highlighted the entire thing.

My opinion of late-era Alan Moore (or his public portrayal, you know what I mean regardless) is complicated. I disagree with his idea that nothing in comics is as good as Watchmen or whatever, and I don’t really like how he’s trotted out by the press once or twice a year to drum up hits by saying something about kids on his lawn. At the same time… he’s definitely earned the right to be cranky about the comics industry. He’s been repeatedly screwed by DC Comics in a number of ways, and his relationships with Marvel, Rob Liefeld (I believe?), and a fistful of other people aren’t so much “on the rocks” as “dashed on the rocks and left there while birds pick out its guts.” I get where he’s coming from, and though it took me a while, I get it. I really do.

I don’t think DC planned to screw him over Watchmen, at least not originally. I think that book was a runaway success that surprised everyone and helped birth a new aspect of the market, and all of that went down in such a way that Moore and Dave Gibbons’s ownership of Watchmen were stray bullets. Moore and Gibbons were supposed to gain ownership, or something similar, once the book had been out of print for a year. From what I’ve heard, it was a good contract, totally reasonable… but the book they made was so good that it generated so much demand that taking it out of print would be throwing away dollars. The future came out of nowhere and screwed up the plans.

Once DC Comics realized that, though, I think they should have renegotiated with the creative team to keep it in print, give them some share of the rights, and then get together to take money baths down at the bank. Instead, they went for the short-term gain, and now the trail of destruction that sits between DC and Alan Moore is unforgivable. They had a chance to make good, to not pull all of the tricks the comics industry is known for pulling, and didn’t. Their short-term business sense said that taking the money and running was a good idea. Long-term thinking would’ve told them that giving Moore and Gibbons what they agreed on, and then nurturing that relationship over the next 25 years, would have let them make a ton of money. It’s a complicated situation and I’m (obviously) not an entertainment lawyer, but I genuinely believe that it should have gone down differently. There’s a moral aspect that should not have been ignored.

Some will point to Alan Moore’s lack of “approval” or involvement as a bad thing, but that’s one of the best parts in my eyes. It’s good to see new creators taking on these characters. it’s good to have fresh voices reaching into these characters. If a character is compelling, there should always be more stories to tell.

Alan Moore being unhappy–no, sorry, the lack of Alan Moore’s pass-agg scare quotes approval pass-agg scare quotes is “one of the best parts in my eyes.” Really though? Why? What does that bring to the equation, other than an old man being unhappy and you getting some cape comics down your gullet? What possible joy is there in some man you’ve never met feeling burned by the industry that he made his name in? Is it like veal? Do Moore’s spitty tirades taste sweet, thanks to all the suffering?

Lucas says that it’s good to see new creators taking on these characters. He has half a point. I’m sure the creative teams (save for Joseph Michael Straczynski) will come up with interesting and worthwhile stories. But Lucas pitches it as Moore standing in the way of these guys doing a good job, and that’s bunk. The two are totally unrelated. Moore can’t stop Azzarello from doing the Comedian story, barring a really surprising escalation to physical violence of the DC/Moore beef. I mean, that’s obvious, right? Moore has been saying, “No, no more Watchmen, please” for years now, and it’s happening anyway. Moore is, in the eyes of DC, irrelevant at best, and a tool to drum up some backwards support at worst.

And you know what? Who in the world gets excited about a sequel when the dude (or one of the dudes) responsible for the first work is like “Nah, that sucks”? Was he that hyped for Scary Movie 3 through 5? “The Wayans want no part of this? SIGN ME UP, BRO!” Whatever.

Moore’s assessment that DC is relying on his “ideas from 25 years ago” is ludicrous and insulting to the talented people working on these books. He didn’t write prequels, they’re writing them. It’s like saying all of his use of public domain characters is him relying on other peoples’ ideas from 100 years ago: he can’t have it both ways.

This is crap reasoning, too. DC is relying on his ideas from 25 years ago, in this instance, because they are making books based around those ideas. Yes, someone else is writing and drawing them, but they are derivative works based on Moore and Gibbons’s original book.

There’s a huge difference between utilizing characters that were obtained via dubious means and using characters that are so old that they have passed into public domain after enjoying their natural (or legal, whatever) lifespan. If I find a lamp on the curb near my apartment, I can take it. That’s legal and fine, because someone put it out there after they used it to their liking. If I borrow a lamp from you, then decide that the lamp is mine because the light is the perfect shade of bright, and then tell you that I’m loaning the lamp out… this hypothetical situation is stupid, but hopefully you get my meaning.

Lucas’s editorial really pisses me off. For better or for worse, he’s in a position to help shape the opinions and minds of new and current comics readers. He’s using his platform to not just support the exploitation of a creator, but to cheer it on. What gets me the most is the sheer… it’s not even entitlement. The sheer scumbaggery on Lucas’s part. The willingness to be a corporate shill. Just the other week, he censored an interview in the name of positivity, but left in a bunch of shots at Rob Liefeld, who is apparently the official punching bag of the comics industry, the guy it’s okay to kick because LOL ROB LIEFELD LOL, no matter how lazy and crap that may be.

(It is interesting, but needlessly conspiracist, to point out that both of these involve Lucas showing favor to DC Comics at the expense of a creator. It’s not a conspiracy, though, because DC has hundreds of fans who will do exactly what Lucas does for the low, low price of free.99. Consult your nearest major comment thread about who owns Superman for further information.)

This sort of go along to get along, Team Comics thing is garbage. It’s another symptom of rot inside comics. Positivity becomes a code word for not rocking the boat and shilling, rather than anything that would actually add to the conversation. Negativity is the worst thing in the world, because we’re all in this together. Lucas’s actions here are the exact type of sucker for love fuckboy horse shit simpery that shows other people that it’s okay to be okay with people being screwed over. Kirby? He had it coming, and John Byrne’s 4th World was better anyway! Ditko? SCHMITko, am I right fellas? The Siegel & Shuster heirs? Aw, they’re just greedy, why don’t they go out and get jobs instead of trying to cancel Superman?

I don’t even understand how Lucas can be in a position to know things about comics, which isn’t hard to begin with, and actually say “Some will point to Alan Moore’s lack of ‘approval’ or involvement as a bad thing, but that’s one of the best parts in my eyes.” and mean it. The comics industry is built on exploitation, your favorite artists from the ’60s and ’70s were almost definitely screwed out of their creations, and editors and managers today apparently believe that having a book on the shelves is a higher calling than having a good book on the shelves. The history of comics isn’t even hard to find out. Alan Moore has been vocal about his experiences, Dwayne McDuffie spoke out, every month there’s a new fund raiser for some old artist who drew some incredibly ill and classic comics but doesn’t have health insurance… this is basic.

I’m not even saying that you can’t like Before Watchmen. Like what you like. You should be cognizant of the situation behind what you like, but you should always just like what you like. Just don’t do what this guy did. Lucas is in a position to shape the hearts and minds of comics readers, and instead, he’s choosing to dickride DC Comics at the expense of the people who actually make comics.

Death to Team Comics, and you need to get the fuck out of here with that garbage. DC won’t ever take you to the prom, Lucas. They don’t even like you. You’re just a customer. That’s all we ever are.

Thunderbolts by Jeff Parker/Kev Walker/Declan Shalvey/Frank Martin is definitely my favorite ongoing Marvel comic, with Hulk by Parker/Gabriel Hardman/Elena Cassagrande/Bettie Breitweiser/Rachelle Rosenberg a close second. Parker and the gang delivered a lot of great moments over the course of all 12+ issues of Thunderbolts shipped in 2011, but only one scene instantly filled me with white hot rage and uncontrollable laughter simultaneously. Art by Valentine De Landro with Matthew Southworth, colors by Frank Martin & Fabio D’Auria.

Fear Itself: Thunderbolts hits comic shops and book stores today. A good starting point for the franchise is Thunderbolts: Cage.

Parker co-created a webcomic with cartoonist Erika Moen, too. You can see the last page of Bucko if you visit the home page, but you should click here to read the tale of the troubles that arise from trying to have threesomes. Learn well from the mistakes of young Bucko.

Jeff Parker, writer of these tales, is the greatest monster history has ever known. Someone stop him before he goes too far.

Thanks in advance.