I forget how I found this (a link off a link off a link off a link), but I really, really dig this art. Some of it is nsfw, mind, but the Catwoman pieces are the bomb and the general sense of fun and style is prevalent. The website design is also pretty tight. Go give it a look. I’m probably going to go through the site (once i get some free time) and work up some iPhone wallpapers.
A while back I bought a big hardcover called Superman: Sunday Classics 1939-1943 for about $5. Not a bad deal. Much like my copy of Snoop Dogg’s novel (which I bought for a dollar), I never really intended to get around to reading it. If anything, it was just a conversation piece on my bookshelf.
I finally sat down and gave it a look. Right now I’m about a third into it and I thought it deserved some comments. I went into it thinking that I was in for some absolute weirdness on the level of Fletcher Hanks’ I Must Destroy All the Civilized Planets, but found something more.
For one, being from the early, early days, nobody knew who Superman was. That was kind of jarring, compared to how he’s such a household name in any recent comic he appears. Criminals would be in complete shock to see their weapons have no effect on him, whether it be simple bullets or a bucket of fire. Yes, a bucket of fire.
The stories are so different from how we see him now. Not in the Superdickery sense, which itself barely appears in these strips. More that he doesn’t spend his time going to space or fighting monsters capable of hurting him. He sticks around Metropolis and mainly takes on street level threats. Most stories involve some good-hearted citizen who tries to help society in some way or another. Bad people are out for this guy’s blood and Superman is the only one stopping them.
It’s a sense of wish fulfillment that we rarely see out of the character anymore. The closest I can think of is that issue from a year ago where that woman thought Superman was an angel meant to specifically protect her. That’s really what made these fun. Superman wasn’t just a superhero, but an honest to God guardian angel.
Ah, but there is some old-school craziness abound. Every once and a while they toss in a weird story to liven things up, based on Superman fighting something a little more powerful than a bear or a circus lion. For instance, Luthor uses a hurricane-making device on Metropolis and sends out a series of glowing, purple cars immune to its effects in order to rob banks. When Superman tries to stop them, they use “hurricane guns” to knock him back. How great is that?!
Even better is the story about an explorer being kidnapped by giants in a mysterious cavern. Superman investigates and rescues this explorer. Now, they could have used just about any explanation for what those giants were up to. Just about anything would’ve done fine. Hell, they could have just said, “These giants are fucking nuts! Let’s get out of here!” Instead, they decided to go with something far more insane.
“Never mind my identity. Do you know why you were kidnapped?”
“These giants are hemophiliacs, men who bleed profusely if they suffer the slightest scratch. They kidnap people from the outer world, steal their blood to replenish their hungry veins!”
No, that does not play into anything. In fact, in the next page, Superman simply punches a giant’s flamethrower and it somehow causes the entire cavern to explode, killing all the giants.
Hemophiliac giants. God, I love it. It’s like, “Oh shit! Giants who aren’t really that hard to kill! Run!”
I’ve also discovered that Lois Lane was kind of a bitch. We get that Clark Kent is supposed to play the role of coward to hide his identity (except for when he mans up anyway and kicks a lawyer’s ass for twisting Lois’ wrist), but there’s one point where two armed men run out of a bank with money and Lois demands Clark go confront them. Then she gets on his case when he says no.
I’m having an absolute blast with this book. If you come across a copy for cheap like I did, give it a shot.
Before I go, the most badass moment in Superman’s early days? There’s this part where a hunchback criminal fires his gun at an unconscious man. Superman flies over with his hand out, as if he’s going to catch the bullet. He does catch the bullet, but with his teeth instead. Then he spits the bullet out at the hunchback, bouncing it off his skull and knocking him out. Hells yes.
Where am I gonna be tonight? Isotope, the comic book lounge in never sunny San Francisco. Chris Onstad, writer of Achewood, is doing a signing to celebrate the release of his Great Outdoor Fight hardcover. It lasts from 8-midnight.
People, drinks, food, music, buttons, and signings. Sounds like a good mix.
If you aren’t reading Achewood, you should be.
(ps, tupac died twelve years ago today!)
The December solicitations are on the horizon and what better Christmas present for me than a heaping helping of new What Ifs? I had heard a couple brief mentions of this year’s batch, but just today I finally got to reading what they’re all about. Let’s give it a look.
– What If? Spider-Man: Back in Black, written by Steven Grant: Rather than Aunt May, Mary Jane is the victim of the Kingpin’s hit. Apparently, this deals more with Spider-Man vs. Kingpin than anything involving Mephisto, which I’m glad to see.
– What If? Captain America: Fallen Son, written by Marc Sumerak: During the aftermath of Civil War, Captain America isn’t the one who gets assassinated. This time it’s Iron Man. If anything, I’m interested in this comic for the can of worms that it brings. They’ve pushed the idea that Iron Man’s been putting too much responsibility on himself to the point that once he’s dead, the world is fucked. Now we’ll see where that avenue would lead us. Plus it would be cool to see what kind of impact Cap could have on World War Hulk.
By the way, here’s the cover.
– What If? World War Hulk, written by Greg Pak: Hulk wins. Now what? I’m wondering if the tangent point will be the Sentry deciding not to interfere or just Hulk beating the crap out of him with no problem. It also is set to have several pages of a WWH Mini Marvels comic, which is always a plus. Despite that, Pak’s on board so it has to be good.
If they go for the depressing “everyone dies” ending, I’d love it if Sorcerer Supreme Doom just happened to show up out of nowhere at the end.
Speaking of Doom…
– What If? Secret Wars, by Karl Bollers: Remember when Doom stole the Beyonder’s powers? This is what happens when he holds onto it and moves upwards by going for the Infinity Gauntlet. The concept and the cover lead me to Boner Town.
– What If? Runaways, by CB Cebulski. Iron Lad comes back from the future in hopes of fighting Kang the Conqueror. He never does discover Vision’s Avengers fail-safe program and never goes after Patriot and the others. Instead, he puts together a team based on the children of the Pride. It does fit well, considering Iron Lad himself is a runaway of a different flavor. This won’t be a single issue, but will be told as a backup across the other five issues.
That leads us to one more…
– What If? House of M, by Brian Reed and Jim McCann. Replace “No More Mutants” with “No More Powers”. Considering the writers, I have faith in it, but at the same time, I feel a bit cautious due to the DC take. A few years ago there was an Elseworlds called Act of God where a black shroud covered Earth and took away everyone’s powers. Even guys like Superman and Martian Manhunter, who aren’t even human, lost whatever made them special outside of appearance.
While a good idea, the miniseries was worth reading because of how ridiculously dumb a lot of the characters reacted towards losing their powers. Superman and Kyle Rayner became the whiniest bitches known to man, leading to Lois and Jade leaving them. Wonder Woman immediately hit the Superman rebound (Elseworlds rule #6). Booster Gold and Blue Beetle had to fill in for the Justice League to the point that they were constantly exhausted. Steel was mankind’s most powerful hero. Aquaman had a buzzsaw hand and, my favorite part, Martian Manhunter changed his name to The Green Man and started using exploding skulls as weapons.
Not to mention, this panel.
I need to review this one one of these days.
Any video game fans here reading 4l?
Anyone opposed to more video game/movies/music content?
edit: also, you can find me on Xbox Live as hermanos or on PSN as fourel. If you add me, throw me a message letting me know who you are.
Funnybook Babylon – Archives – Tough Love Tuesday Breaking News: Insufficient Censorship
The reason behind All-Star Batman & Robin the Boy Wonder’s recall revealed! The censor bars didn’t print properly a whole bunch of times! Cusswords are visible! Look out! Don’t click through if you don’t want to see Batgirl being super-sassy:
(this makes the comic late, which sucks)
I believe that a small part of every fanboy’s soul dies screaming whenever someone suggests that Superman would beat Batman in a fight.
Marc Bernardin, Adam Freeman, and Afua Richardson created Genius.
In thanks for them making it, you should take advantage of this being the last day to vote and Vote for it in Top Cow’s Pilot Season 2008 contest.
Also, Adam Freeman wrote this.
Go, vote.
It’s not easy being a Venom fan. Or, to be more specific, it’s not easy being a fan of Eddie Brock. I’m more or less saddled in with him for life because in the end, he’s the guy who got me into comics and is instrumental to this site’s existence all together. That’ll be a story for another time. Maybe I’ll finally get around to that series of articles about his history next week. I’m getting nowhere with the next Deadshot’s Tophat installment anyway.
Now, I’ve read through the 5 years of Venom being the Lethal Protector (fun fact: reading almost every Venom appearance from the 90’s is so torturous that the Republicans now believe I’m qualified to run for office). It wasn’t a good series, but like all failed comics, it’s at least interesting when you look at what went wrong. What went wrong is Venom’s flaw as a concept. Esther made a post about ailed characters who can never fix what’s wrong with them (note: who the hell is Esther?). Rogue can’t touch, Babs can’t walk, Peter Parker can’t be happy, and so on and so forth. At least those guys have strong characteristics and rich histories. Venom isn’t allowed to have that.
Most of Venom’s 90 run worked like this: a writer would use him for a blatant crossover story and occasionally introduce a new dynamic to the character. He’d give Venom some direction and a little bit of promise. After that storyline, said writer would leave and be replaced with someone else. That guy would toss all of that development out of the window for the sake of writing his own wicked crossover story and it all starts over again.
Then Larry Hama took over for the rest of the run, which is interesting for the fact that the final few arcs were based on Venom fighting for amnesty by working for a corrupt government group that’s implanted him with a bomb if he gets out of line. Doesn’t that sound familiar?
Not like they’ll ever follow up on that connection. You see, Venom is a malleable character against his own will. Nobody cares enough to do anything meaningful with him. No matter how many girlfriends he’s given or how many moments of clarity he gets, every single writer after will disregard it all because Venom’s their pet dollar sign with fangs and a hate-on for Spider-Man. No more, sometimes less.
There’s almost some kind of sad tragedy to it. Some kind of Groundhog Day curse, but without the hilarity of Chris Elliot.
There’s a line from the Atmosphere song “Always Coming Back Home To You” that I like and reference probably too often for my own good. “I swear to God, hip-hop and comic books were my genesis.” It was true when I first heard it and it’s still true. Rap and comics have been two of the handful of constants in my life so far. It isn’t exactly a question of which one I like more. It’s more that both have had different effects on my life.
Comics helped a lot in teaching me to read. Obscure science terms, made-up words, and things that sounded like made-up words but were actually real words after all littered my early comics reading experience. So, comics taught me a love of words.
Rap taught me to love wordplay. It’s about taking a phrase you know and turning it on its head. High School Me would hate me for being about to quote Young Jeezy, but this part from his verse on Put On is great and he’s from the next town over, so suck it, 2001-me.
Passenger’s a red bone, her weave look like some curly fries
Inside’s fish sticks, outside’s tartar sauce
Pocket full of cel-e-ry, imagine what she telling me
Blowing on asparagus, the realest shit I ever smoked
Ridin’ to that trap or die- the realest shit I ever wrote
They know I got that bro-cco-li, so I keep that glock with me
And yeah, it’s typical ignant thug rap– this is still Jeezy, after all. He makes the extended food metaphor work, and for some reason, it ends up being pretty clever. There are other great examples. Big Pun had that killer tongue-twister flow (Dead in the middle of little Italy, little did we know that we riddled some middleman who didn’t do diddly) and Ghostface is still rap’s very own Gabriel Garcia Marquez.
Another place where rap and comics intersected for me was in that they both portrayed heroes and role models for a very young David Brothers to take in. The difference between the two is that comics had heroes, black or white, who were generally written for white guys by white guys, while rappers were generally black guys who were usually aimed at a black audience.
The majority of black comics characters were, for years, either black characters filtered through an extremely non-black lens (Storm), unrelateable (Panther), parodies (Cage), or awful (Bishop).
Rap offered a slightly different perspective. I was just old enough to sneak in on the tail end of the pro-black movement of rap. Midnight Marauders hit when I was nine or ten (along with the Malcolm X movie). I had the Wu. I had Nas. I had a ton of people who taught me that being black is awesome, having money is great, and that crime is exciting. When it came down to choosing Iron Man or Tony Starks… I went with Ghostface Killah.
Most comics, with the notable exception of Milestone and occasional “outreach” books, aren’t aimed at me. That’s changed somewhat in recent years, but Marvel and DC are still relying on the same fanbase they’ve had for forty-plus years.
This brings me around to what I think are the two most important books in comics since… I dunno, the Jemas-era began. Nat Turner by Kyle Baker, and Sentences by Percy “MF Grimm” Carey and Ron Wimberly are books that are aimed at me. They’re by black people and aimed, if not at black people directly, at a wider audience than just “fanboys.”
Both aren’t necessarily the most marketable “comic books.” One is a book about a guy whose claim to fame was killing a lot of white men, women, and children after he was given a sign from Heaven. The other is about a rapper, but the greater message isn’t about “bitches and switches and hoes and clothes and weed,” which is what you’d usually see out of basically anything involving rap in the media at large.
Sentences was probably my favorite complete book out of ’07, including single issues, and it totally got robbed for that Eisner. I think it’s an important step in a lot of ways, and the least Vertigo-style title Vertigo has published. It isn’t a long and boring, goth-y, about vampires, religion, or your usual Vertigo cliche of choice. It’s just about a dude, his life, and the choices he made that got him to where he is now. It’s also about growing up black, falling into traps, and digging your way out of a hole you’ve dug for yourself.
There were any number of scenes and references in that book that I immediately got. I thought the bit with the mom in the beginning was hilarious. Why? Probably because I’d seen my mom swing on a grown man for messing with my little brother and any number of verbal sonnings while out shopping. I can relate to Carey’s love for his grandmother because we’re on the same level there.
In a very real way, it’s a book about me and my experiences. It’s about someone who looks like me, has gone through some of the same things I’ve gone through, listens to the same music, and even hung out with some of my own heroes. I don’t have to play down the obvious racial and class differences between me and most comics characters. I don’t have to worry about shocked stares when I say I haven’t heard of some apparently huge band. It’s the power of shared experience working in my favor. I finished the book feeling like I could go “Midnight Marauders or Low End Theory?” and “Ether or Takeover?” and get into an hour-long fight or an hour-long conversation, depending on the answer.
(Midnight Marauders and Ether are the right answers.)
Kyle Baker’s Nat Turner was my Sentences for when it came out. I recently re-read it on a long plane ride few weeks back, and finishing it prompted a few things. First, it made me realize that I had to do this essay. Second, I resolved to give the book (which I had just purchased a few days earlier) away the first chance I got, because people need to read it. And I did.
Nat Turner, the person, has been an interesting figure to me since I first heard of him. It could have been from a rap song, or from one of the footnotes in a school textbook that Baker mentions in his text pieces in the book. I know (off the top of my head) that he was mentioned on Wu-Forever, Sean Price’s Brokest Rapper You Know, and the Talib Kweli + dead prez joint off Lyricist Lounge.
Nat’s claim to fame, and I’m not embellishing anything here, is that he killed fifty-plus white men, women, and children. He led the largest slave rebellion in the States. Obviously, he was a murderer, and that isn’t something to be proud of. At the same time, though, he stood up tall and spat in the face of a system and country that believed him to be less than human. There’s a lot to appreciate in this story, though that probably makes me sound like a sociopath.
Baker’s approach to the book gives it a storybook kind of feel. There are only a few word balloons, leaving the action to stand on its own. The majority of the text is taken directly from The Confessions of Nat Turner. It comes in chunks and often relates to the scenes being depicted on the page, but its tone is jarring. The rebellion happened 160-some years ago, so the language and times are different. It’s like peeking into another world, or reading about a faraway land. The essay is very methodical and sometimes stilted. Premediated is an apt description, as well.
The art sells every emotion and scene perfectly. Sadness, determination, hate, and love all come through clear as a bell. One scene expertly shows a situation in which killing your own child is the greatest act of love you can perform. It’s depressing, it’s tough, and it’s a downer, but it’s a necessary one. It’s like medicine. You have to take it, and after you get past the taste, you’ll feel better.
I feel like it’s a book you should have to read at least once. It tells a story that doesn’t get a lot of attention, but is still well-known and loved by a lot of people. It’s a story that illuminates both universal rights and what happens when someone is pushed too far and too hard.
Nat Turner and Sentences were like comics dipping their toe into the pool. They were warning shots. They are saying “We are here, we have always been here” to the industry and “Don’t go anywhere, there is something here for you, too” to the audience. I really wish that these books had been around for when I was younger. They’re exactly what I was looking for, but didn’t know I was looking for.
It was the equivalent of one of my favorite images from the past.
Now, though, I just want more. My two loves are on speaking terms. Let’s keep at it, yeah?
