The Factual Opinion

Television Of The Weak: There's Only One Way To Crack An Egg. Use Your Fist.

This week we've got history, I Survived A Japanese Game Show, The Mighty Boosh, Hung, True Blood, The Apprentice UK, & Red Riding

US Versus Spain, Confederation Cup Semi-Final by Tucker Stone

Holy SHIT.

US Versus Brazil, Confederation Cup Finals by Tucker Stone

FUCK. But still, the Finals?

HOLY SHIT.

I Survived a Japanese Game Show: "Episode Two" by Matthew J. Brady

It's back to Japan for more silliness; this time around, the two teams (the goofily-named Red Robots and Green Tigers) start out by having five members stuffed into a giant pair of pants and getting bombarded with tennis balls fired out of pitching machines. They have to pick up as many balls as possible with grabber claws and put as many in the pants as possible within a time limit. Pretty funny, but the second game is even better, with the teams having to dress a mannequin while running on a conveyor belt. The premise gets kicked off when the host strips Judge Bob's clothes off because he used the phrase "birthday suit" incorrectly, and now the teams have to put the clothes back on a representation of the Judge. And to add an extra bit of messiness, the clothes are hidden in a sort of sandbox full of flour. Why so much flour on this show? The answer: Japan.

With this being the second episode, we're getting to know the contestants better, but luckily, this season the focus seems to have shifted toward the competition, so we spend less time with the annoying people and their confused wonderment at being in, get this homey, a country different than the United States. They're mostly all pretty loathsome, but that's to be expected in shows like this. The Green Tigers win again, so they get to go to a professional baseball game and throw out the first pitch, while the lame Red Robots have to work picking up balls at the world's largest driving range while golfers are taking shots at them. Much whining commences, especially from Justin, a loud douchebag with MC Hammer lines shaved into the sides of his head. He doesn't have to compete for elimination though, so we'll be stuck with him for at least one more week. Instead, the down-to-earth Yari is up again, along with a young guy named Dan who seems boring and humorless. They have to cover themselves in lotion and carry a torch across an obstacle course that includes crawling across a buch of half-naked sumo wrestlers. Did I mention the humiliation factor? Dan seems especially unhappy about this development; how did such a stick-up-the-ass loser end up on this show? He's kind of a better athlete though, so he's also around to annoy next week.

Yeah, this is pretty much quintessential summer TV; I don't think I would bother watching something like this any other time of the year. But it's fun for now, with plenty of ridiculousness to distract from the oppressive heat. If the more obnoxious people can get kicked off and the games get even sillier, I'll like it even better.

The Mighty Boosh - "Hitcher" by Sean Witzke

"Technically, you're not a peeping tom if it's one of your relatives."

The plot of the episode is simple - Howard and Vince play some slap-bass in front of a bear, he goes berserk and tries to kill Bob Fossil and some kids. Howard and Vince have to drive the bear to a zoo-prison for dangerous animals. They get lost, end up in the Forest of Death, run into the evil man-witch dubbed The Hitcher. He's cockney and evil, and carries the zoo-prison around in a box with him. They get split up, and both eventually end up trapped in the box. Naboo saves Bob Fossil from the bear, and they become best friends for the episode, to Naboo's chagrin. Naboo learns about the Boosh being in danger by way of surprisingly accurate tea leaves. Then they save the day by convincing The Hitcher to play some slap-bass and anger the bear, and then Fossil and Naboo crash into Bryan Ferry (according to Vince's animated flashback, he was raised by Bryan Ferry in the jungle).

Yes, that Bryan Ferry. From Roxy Music. The one that sung "More Than This" and "Editions of You". Then Bryan Ferry shows up (played by Julian in the worst makeup you'll see on tv this year) and calls Vince "the least musical of all his children" in a stilted wrong dialect.

Cut - the intro, where Howard brags about being an amazing actor. Some of the animated sequence. Some callbacks to the opening sequence. Chunks of Bryan Ferry's conversation with Vince, some of the weirder lines from the Hitcher's monologue about "My own beastly creation!", and later him giving a whole two minutes to talking about how the guy from Level 42 can't play slap bass for shit.

Vince is really onto something with the Gary Numan love. Vince busting out a thirty-tape set of Gary Numan is overkill, but once they start dancing to "Cars" it's hard to disagree with him. I mean, have you heard The Pleasure Principle? It's full-on. This is the first appearance of the Hitcher in the series, but he actually appeared in the first episode of the Adult Swim airings "Eels". There is an established set of moments to hit with a Hitcher episode - he gives incomprehensible and disturbing anecdotes about his childhood, pees on something/ someone ("aw it's coming out like yellow cable."), raps (this time with assistance from Dave Brown and Rich Fulcher in skeleton outfits), complains about his old age, and threatening to mutilate Vince and Howard. This time we get the Hitcher busting out a jazz-funk solo.

This is the most meta episode of the Boosh, with jokes constantly made about low production values, bad makeup, and the shows formula. Howard talks to the camera a couple times. Vince comes out and says that each week he's got to get Howard out of trouble. The best line in the whole episode is Naboo telling Julian Barrat he doesn't look a damn thing like Bryan Ferry.

You could actually make the case that this is the end of classic Boosh - my favorite season is the second, but there's a really sweet tone to the first season that gets pushed out in the 2nd and 3rd. The 1st really isn't as funny as the rest, but there's a charm that never comes back. It's a trade-up, there's less Bob Fossil, but when he shows up he's funnier. There's no more Matt Berry, but now there's Richard Ayoade. The sitcom setup is gone and dead, and it feels a lot less forced when Howard falls in love with random women who show up for an episode than pining after Miss Gideon. And the cast settles into the proper setup - Howard and Vince have Naboo and Bollo as counterpoints and the zaniness seems to arise from these four weirdos rather than "Howard and/or Vince stumble into X" week after week.

Next week - Rich Fulcher tries to rape Vince, then the entire cast gets sexually assaulted by a herd of hippy Sasquatch. Good times.

The Apprentice UK - "Week Ten" by Tucker Stone

Although each episode opens with Sir Alan Sugar intoning "This is not a game", there's plenty of evidence that he's full of shit. That's not a surprise or anything--after all, if this show really was a "twelve week interview", the way Sugar claims, it would be intensely unwatchable. All of these contestants share one thing in common--they're all unlikeable when they start getting serious. (Except for Tim, because he's a cool black guy.) No, Sir Alan. This is a game. It couldn't have been more straightforward then tonight's episode. The teams were given one hour, live on the British version of the Home Shopping Network, which turns out to be just as sleazy and cheap as the American one--classless impulse products no human being could ever conceivably need hawked by fast-talking hucksters. One team member stays on camera for the hour, motormouthing their way around an expensive foam mattress destined to serve as the "guest bed" in the basement apartment unemployed 20-somethings die in, a "2 million candle" flashlight useful only if you're in the woods looking for a kidnap victim, and, because it's television, a hideous synthetic fur jacket with a gigantic wolf painted on the back.

It's pure crap, from the opening portion where Tim & Paul "steal" some of Saira's products, to the uncut 3 minute sequence where Saira and Paul laugh hysterically at the hideousness of the Wolf Spirit jacket. Because it's television, we see Sir Alan Sugar watch the two clowns screech out prices and phone numbers. He claims to be doing so "from home", which means Sir Alan Sugar's television room was decorated by an autistic Cub Scout troop consumed with a psychological need to document their entire existence via photographs while the chairs were supplied by some Arab sheik who was worried Jabba The Hut sized leather recliners was too gauche, even for a fucking harem. Despite Sugar's rapidfire delivery of compliments for Miriam's presentation skills, he ends up firing her in the boardroom, claiming that she should have had enough sense not to let both Paul and Tim serve as her on-air producers. It's beyond absurd--Miriam's performance wasn't affected in the slightest by Paul & Tim's backstage antics--but we're too close to the season finale. Neither James nor Tim are entertaining enough on their own, making Paul--a loudmouth moron with a hair trigger temper--the only possibility for drama, besides Saira. And while Saira will bring the crazy, as she has in every prior episode, she's missing the one thing that Paul has in spades. He's a selfish fucking asshole. All reality shows need one.

Hung – Pilot by Martin Brown

Look, Dan Ackroyd ruined the idea of the male prostitute for me and for everybody else when he created Fred Garvin, the multiple truss-wearing, fully qualified male strumpet who managed to service the entire quad cities area—Moline, Rock Island, Davenport and Bettendorf. HBO’s new series, Hung, doesn’t exactly improve on Saturday Night Live’s premise so much as it simply welds it to the type of anti-hero centered series format pioneered by The Sopranos. On paper, it’s a fairly formulaic set-up: Dude tries to live a quasi-normal life while navigating the pitfalls of a dubious profession. We meet Ray Drecker (played by Thomas Jane, who you might remember as The Punisher, unless you were smart enough to dodge that satchel of trash) as he’s hit rock bottom—a star athlete in his youth, he’s hit middle age and failed to capitalize on his potential, wound up a high school coach who can’t even turn around his team’s losing street. Ray’s nadir is signified by a house fire in his parents’ old house, which he lives in with his teenaged twin son and daughter, and drives him to beg for money from his ex-wife (Anne Heche) and her new husband. After taking a class in getting rich quick, Ray decides that his biggest asset in his monumental cock, and awkwardly sets about turning it into his money-maker. It’s pretty much all right there in the preview.

And yet, Hung’s pilot was surprisingly compelling—partly because of strong performances by each of the actors; mostly because of Alexander Payne, the writer/director behind Sideways, About Schmidt, and Election. Payne’s not responsible for the script, but he knows exactly what to do with it. A lesser director would concentrate on all of the show’s gimmicky aspects, mistaking them for its selling points. Payne, on the other hand, knows that what happens isn’t nearly as fascinating as how it happens, and turns the pilot into a slow, deliberate character study of a man at his ultimate low, who knows he’s not smart enough to think himself back to security. This first episode doesn’t even feature an actual encounter with a trick, which means no money shot for the people who showed up expecting something like Entourage. Instead, it sets up a tightly wound story for a potentially greater payoff. They’d better not blow it.

True Blood - "Scratches" by Nina Stone

Is it the sign of a good show, or the sign of too much TV and being a little sick in the head, that when I was thinking about remedies to heal my ill feeling stomach and head today I thought, "wish there was something accessible like vampire blood."

Yeah, I'm sort of disturbed that this was a thought of mine.

Nevertheless, it does tell you the impact that True Blood is having on me. I just like this sort of thing. If you've read any other types of reviews i've written in the past, you'll know that I love cleverness and even magical, meta-fiction-ish stuff, but only when it has a pay off. I like when it's clever and imaginative just beyond the reach of my mind, but ends up making sense...or just being really cool. So far so good with this show. I realize I'm totally alone on that. I'm totally alone on it in my own home. My husband hasn't disliked something I've liked this much since...actually, he sort of hates everything I like, except for my family, but he seems to hate True Blood on a personal level. Bad example. So. Okay, yes, True Blood gets a little heavy on the melodrama at times. I mean, how many times does Sookie get mad at someone and storm off, only to make-up later? Every episode? And if it isn't an immediate make-up, it's usually because she gets hurt really badly.

This episode was more of that. But we've got some sort of new creature on our hands, somebody doing crazy damage that even vampire blood can't heal.  Almost lost Sookie, and would have, if it weren't for a little-old-witch doctor - the millennium version of the little lady with the high pitched voice from the Poltergeist movies - who saved her. And then, of course, some of Bill's vampire blood.  

And Lafayette is alive! ALIVE! And saved by Sookie! Hooray! I wonder what'll become of him now? And Sookie's brother, Jason, seems to have moved beyond the honeymoon period of his new found religious conviction, and comes clean about actually liking and respecting Vampires to his cult leaders - only to be swayed back into believing in their ways. Not for long, I'm sure. But more on that in later reviews because what I need to discuss is: who/what is that creature that attacked Sookie?! And left the same terrible claw marks on the new waitress Daphne? (Which are revealed at the very end of the episode as she's bout to skinny dip with Sam! Oh no, Sam! Watch out! Make sure you wear protection! Or just leave. Leaving would work as well.)

I fear and delight in thinking that somehow it's all going to be tied to Maryanne - who Tara, although charmed by her, seems to be immune to the power she tends to wield over others. But see...this is what I'm talking about. I can tell that there is some clever plot line that will be revealed that is just over my head and out of my reach. And I like that.

There's little bits here and there that I'm leaving out...but if you want to get the full experience, you're just gonna have to start watching! Or you could just keep reading these and being confused by all the people whose names I keep saying. I can't make your decisions for you.

Red Riding - 1974, 1980, 1983

There's something about the crime that catches in the throat, crawls up the back, pulls the blanket tight around the face "hands flat on the table", crashing, burning, pain gets etched in the flesh, looks like a grin: it's justified only the once and it doesn't last long enough, it cant last long enough, but you want it then, you'll want it and you'll taste it and you can do it yourself if, would, yes. Gunshots scatter and you never have to see what it looks like when the head exits, when the meat rides the lead, splinters like the gravel in the corner, the fingernails at rusted metal, it flies out without your witness and then a human skull doesn't look like a solid anymore, it looks like a collapsed plate of italian food, it looks like something leaked out, that's why the proper framing looks like a sewer vomiting outward, you're drowning in it, it is going down your throat and you keep crying and trying to spit out what you can't swallow and some people grow up without hope and thats how you know how people grow up with their best dream, that they wont get hurt anymore, and some people know, what you know, what we know, what they know: nobody will come for you. you are the meat. you are the food. 

they're saying it's their wire over there.

I didn't want to know anything about Riding before I got into it.

You don't either.

1974

He wanted to prove he meant something, he said goodbye to his father, he fell for the right girl who couldn't be the right girl anymore, he knew its what they wanted for him to walk through that door he knew he couldnt be anything but their tool but he showed power to the powerful when the time came. only saw the bright lights once, it didn't last. He failed his friend, he trusted the wrong people, the wrong person, you couldn't expect better. He couldn't trust himself. They baptized him instead.

1980

He didn't have it coming, but somebody had to pay the tab to clear the deck, some sacrifice has to be made when the monster is seething, and the monster needed more. we're not done yet, they said. we want you, it said. it isnt a snarl. it never is. But the little girl, scissor kicked in the corner...she didn't do anything wrong. You can't ask little girls to kill their father even if they deserve it especially when they deserve it you cant. ask them. There's no butterfly where his head used to be, but something finally answered that noses question. Good. this is what the hero leaves behind is what they said to them then and they left that little boy a truck but that was lying. leave them nothing. There's nothing you can give them. You've taken it all away.

1983

I'm going to teach you how to love me pull the trigger bj please bj please please shes buried underground and the name is hoarse when its called and theres a heap of mass pouring from his openings and he says her name he says her name he says her name he said her name and theres a stage and shes on a stage and shes the only one left and you have to say her name please please i cant stand one more minute with him alive and i know its okay and i forgive you but he has to die and even then its not enough and it never will be, we eat these people, we eat them alive

but carry her home

please carry her home

-Matthew J. Brady, Sean Witzke, Tucker Stone, Nina Stone & Martin Brown, 2009

The Virgin Read: The Last Great Modernist

Detective Comics # 854
Written by Greg Rucka
Art by J.H. Williams III & Dave Stewart
Published by DC Comics

Why is it that when I like something, I find it so challenging to describe why? In preparing to write about this Batwoman comic I told the boss, "It's gonna be short. I don't have a lot to say. But I liked it." 

Maybe it's because when I, maybe even "we", like something, it's because it hits us viscerally, emotionally, and/or mentally in a pleasing way. We like the feeling. We should, it's a nice feeling, even if the thing that hit wasn't a "nice" thing, just a "good" one. We've no need to rid ourselves of the feeling or experience. But when we read something or experienced something that we don't like - whether that be because it's bad form, bad content or just viscerally unappealing, the kind of bad that sickens - we don't want to sit with the experience. It's no longer mere experience. It's personal. The subject matter did something unpleasant to us, so we have to strike back! With words! With disdain! With judgment!

What a shame to put so much energy into hate. Hell, it's fun. We all know that. Seems to be more fodder for humor in judging bad material. But let's see...I want to tell you why I liked Batwoman in Detective Comics without being totally dry. Now - also - let's not get all ridiculously excited. I didn't love it. There's not that much there to yet fully love. It's a nice beginning or introduction and I liked it. It certainly beats the smoke out of some of the super-hero comics I've read before.

I don't love red hair. Not that it doesn't look good on you. No - I've just had my tryst with it, which started when I was 18, and ended....oh about a month ago. Just can't get rid of it. What was once striking about it and made me covetous of it when on the heads of others--that's what makes me hate it now. But it's a really smart through line of color tied across this comic. Whether she's dressed up as Batwoman or herself, her striking red hair stands out boldly on every page. What that does to the eye is more than I'm able to express accurately. But it keeps you glued to the page, that's for sure.  

I couldn't tell at first if Batwoman was "good" or "bad". I like that. I shouldn't, I think. She's another hero in the streets, so I guess it might be different for most, but for me, it read like she was another crazy in the streets, another wack-job in a costume, somebody we didn't know, somebody we couldn't. Not yet. Her methods seemed as mean and bad ass as any other hero or villain. And being, well, the Virgin Reader, still, now, forever, I wasn't sure if it was common knowledge that she was the female nemesis of Batman or something. It was sorted out quickly for me, which was good. But isn't that cool? Her introduction to the world is as a bad ass. She wasn't using her feminine wiles or some sort of "power" to influence her "vicitim," she was using strength and violence - which is really cool. I mean, in a comic book way. And then a hand, on a cheek, and that's her: I can hurt you. Because I'm your better. That hand on the face--somebody else called it a caress. I don't think so. That was the final nail. That was a victory lap.

What's entertaining is that this character walks the borderline of stereotype. A lot of aspects of this characters life made me go "oh sure, that's typical", as if being a comic book means we should ignore that you showed up late to the party. Wearing bell bottoms. For instance, she's a lesbian.

I like that she's a lesbian - it sort of fits - but one could argue what a stereotype it it is for a bad-ass superhero woman to be a lesbian. Scary strong woman, beats up men! Gotta be a lesbian, right? C'mon. But in comic book terms, I like that we find this out about her from the relationship end of things, not some gratuitous lesbian roll in the hay. And just like Batman and Superman, it's hard for Batwoman to have a normal relationship. I just loved those "bad date" panels. I love the way the other woman is drawn, and I loved her point. She's not angry at Kathy for being Batwoman, she's angry about Kathy representing herself as a person ready for a relationship. There was no need to tell her to "grow up" though. That's a little much. A simple, "I like you, but this isn't for me" would have sufficed. If you make it to the age that woman is and still haven't figured out how to end a relationship, you're the one with the problem.

Another possible stereotype? She's the daughter of a military man. (Tough women with military fathers! Moms can't raise hardcore unless the kid fights robots!) It makes sense, sure. How else would she have such training and dedication to justice, except for living with it all her life? Still, I liked the little twist here, how it's her doing the pushing while Mr. Buzzcut is telling her to take it easy. It seems to me, most of the time, that the story of the curt emotionless father and his daughter involves the daughter struggling and working for some appreciation or admiration he's incapable of giving. It didn't read that way this time. Kathy and her dad just have something in common.

Oh, and then we come to the cliffhanger ending, which apparently all these super-hero comics are legally required to build towards, every time, despite very few of them ever working to make me care enough to check in next month. Maybe this time though, I am intrigued by the way this one ended. The bad guy looks like a sexy goth doll dressed in a in a Restoration Period get-up. Just seeing how she's drawn makes me fascinated.

It's all very entertaining and honestly, even when I'm being picky, really interesting, this Detective Comics. (How is she a Detective? Is punching a diagnostic tool?) The only flash and glamour is in her flowing red hair and accessories, and the awesome drawings of her kicking ass (see Jog's review for more on that!). But all in all, it's a solid introduction, a good one. Nothing sticks out as nonsensical. It's sexual without being crass, without making me roll my eyes and hand this off to a 15-year-old for some private time. It's special. Goddammit, I liked it.

-Nina Stone, 2009

Comics Of The Weak: Now With 100% Less Enthusiasm

Daredevil # 119

Written by Ed Brubaker

Art by Michael Lark, Stefano Gaudiano & Matt Hollingsworth

Published by Marvel Comics

Although there's an actual Daredevil comic buried underneath all this color, it takes a bit of work to find. It's mostly about the color purple and how much it hates the color red, so much so that it totally wants to kill the color red, and you're all like "hey purple, you know that red is a part of you, you're just hitting yourself, stop hitting yourself my man." Green and yellow make an appearance before getting skeered off, mostly it's just purple, and purple is really angry. Maybe it's angry because what had started off being the best Daredevil story since that one where Punisher went to prison just to hang with Blindy Ican'tsee has turned into the umpteenth "The Kingpin Has Stupid Plans About Stupidity, Come See" comics. Don't fuck with purple, Kingpin. Your own grave, that one.

New Avengers # 53

Written by Brian Michael Bendis

Art by Billy Tan

Published by Marvel Comics

Sigh. The last time one of the characters in New Avengers had a full page spread of their face that sticks in the memory, it was Luke Cage and his "i'm going to kill my baby for filling a diaper, the-way-babies-do style". This time, it's a two-fer, with Hawkeye cum Ronin squinting so hard that a black hole forms somewhere in his upper sinus region, sucking the flesh inward, expressly for the purpose of strengthening his statement regarding how he's going to kill Norman Osborn. Unfortunately for those who might take that page for the oh-so-serious implication it seems to crave, Hawkeye actually looks more like he's really grossed out in a think-of-the-children way regarding a particularly odorous garbage can, and his wife/girlfriend/whoever that mundane character is that is supposedly a female despite looking like a plastic doll has a confused look on her face that seems to say "if you're so upset it by the garbage, change out of that baggy Ronin outfit that you'll never grow into, because you're an adult and no longer growing, and take the. fucking. garbage. out." Oh, and Dr. Strange has been replaced by a black guy. Your blood pressure on that is determined by one of two factors: one, you actually think Sorceror Supreme is a position in the Marvel universe that matters, or two, you actually think of Brother Voodoo as a character who empowers black people. Either response is wrong.

Justice League of America # 34

Written by Dwayne McDuffie

Art by Ardian Syaf, Eddy Barrows, Don Ho, Ruy Jose, Dan Green, Jack Purcell & Mark Propst

And Pete Pantazis. Basically everyone available, DC just wanted to get this one finished.

Published by DC Comics

One of the things they do in super-hero comics to confuse the reader into believing that a character absolutely no one on Earth cares about is as important as the super-heroes who get movie deals, is to put the character up against a villain that is portrayed to the reader as being a horrifically big deal, a villain of such terrifying power that it would be insane to believe that any hero on the planet could defeat them. Then, before the conclusion, the reader gets treated to a reminder of how fucking great super-teams are, because these odds against them, oh shit, they'd make regular people like you and your bitch mom and your drunk, abusive father cry and run away, leaving fat plumber holes in the wall, just like a Warner Brothers cartoon. Thank god the Justice Avengers of Uruguay aren't crybaby scaredy pants like you, you fucking little bitch, we'd all be dead if we were. (Go Army, beat Navy) After that requisite you suck/they don't moment, the writer can turn things over to the aforementioned character that no one likes, said character saves day, Holy Shit We Had No Idea Character No One Likes Is Awesomely Powerful, Will Change Inherent (read: accurate) Feeling Of Disinterest Bordering On Contempt, Thank You Comic Books. In this issue, lucky McDuff's last (seriously, who wouldn't be happy about losing a gig under the conditions he did? It's like DC admitted for all to see "if you have an opinion of your own, you should ply it somewhere else, only-wanna-be-cogs need apply"), the character you hate, but are supposed to like, is portrayed by Dr. Light # 2. In the villains place is a guy whose true apperance is revealed to be not terribly stupid by villain standards, making it that much worse when said villain (Starbreaker) showcases his preference, which is to look like the master of ceremonies at Cirque du Soleil. Tune in next month: this comic is going to be terrible!

Dark Reign: Zodiac # 1

Written by Joe Casey

Art by Nathan Fox & Jose Villarrubia

Published by Marvel Comics

One of the problems with living in a free-market competition based economy is that you go to grocery stores where you have something like 150-odd types of breakfast cereal to choose from, and your choice is mostly dictated by the arbitrary decisions your parents made when raising you, or your willingness to buy into the advertising campaigns of Kashi over the advertising campaigns of Honey Bunches of Oats. It's only a technical definition of a problem, in that it wastes a certain portion of your time to pick one, and honestly speaking, if the choice was made for you, it isn't like the time saved is going to be time dedicated to accomplishing or solving problems, you're probably just going to sleep more, or watch a few more minutes of Predator 2, because you are an American devil, and American devils are about as useful as rectal warts, especially the grad school types. But there is an attraction towards having just one option, or maybe three, a sort of Cereal with sugar, Cereal that is healthy, Cereal with sugar version 2, Extreme. Big two comics are like that too--there's a pretense towards a freedom of choice expressed by stacks of new books coming out every wednesday, but really it just comes down to this: do you like it when they're really violent and about "bad people" or do you like it when they're only kinda violent and about preachy sentimental "good people"? In a perfect world, there'd be less options, and there'd be only a few varieties to choose from, and, optimistically, there'd be other varieties of options, like comics about dinosaurs fighting for civil rights in Australia, or better comics about dating. If they ever went that way, Nathan Fox would be the right choice to illustrate one of those hyper-violent comics, becasue the guy is fucking great, and he should be given an Eisner award for being the first guy to do something interesting with the Human Torch since Jack Kirby. (I.E. drawing him as a shit-beat-out-of-him-sack-o-meat.)

Wolverine Noir # 3

Written by Stuart Moore

Art by C.P. Smith & Rain Beredo

Published by Marvel Comics

While there's still a fourth issue of this series to go, and in that fourth issue the story will probably have to revert to Logan-form, with the character finding some version of "justice", this third issue continues to serve up the Wolverine-as-failure take, and it remains unique because of that. Whether it's the brutal craziness of him bringing his "knives" to his own fucking wedding proposal, or the portion where he collapses from drunken exhaustion so that the Noir version of Sabretooth can laughingly say "I love this guy", reminding the reader that this Wolverine isn't the one they remember, the one who can lower-jaw-mope his way through obstacles, this is Wolverine-as-pathetic loser. For that, this comic remains the only one of these Marvel Noir stories anybody around these parts has enjoyed reading. That may not make it necessary, that may not even make it good, but considering the non-stop onslaught of undercooked and shoddily planned Wolverine comic books that spray out of Marvel's ass like an explosion of blood-covered lettuce, it's rather pleasant to see something as mercenary as "What If Wolverine Was Sam Spade, Only Far Stupider" being granted some actual passion on the parts of the creators. This might be paycheck comics, but so is an eight page Judge Dredd story, and plenty of people have done solid work with those.

The Spirit # 30

By Michael Avon Oeming

Colored by Lee Loughridge

Published by DC Comics

They still publish this Spirit thing, even if Darwyn Cooke, J. Bone & Sergio Aragones aren't involved, even after the Frank Miller Spirit movie failed to catch a whit of attention beyond intellectually perceptive types with convincing arguments. They even make it look nice, in a hermetically sealed chamber kind of way, with a Kevin Nowlan cover that's as technically attractive as it is completely bloodless. (The Spirit is falling asleep while The Spirit is running, slowly, toward the reader, his mouth locked in a rictus of idiocy. He'll get there. Slowly.) Inside, it's Michael Avon Oeming, so bored that he not only fails to conceal that his plotting is a less murderous version of Yojimbo, he has one of the characters address this very fact early on. "You ever see Yojimbo?" Then do that, Spirit. Do that. And so he does, and you're supposed to praise the effective done-in-one, because that's what Cooke was doing, and you're supposed to praise the honestly clever riffs on Eisner's title plays or the bravura splash sequence only surpassed in the week's ambition by the weirdly wonderful Detective Comics, and yet--what is it? What is it that's wrong here? Saying it lacks in passion would be dishonest and cruel, there's too much lust for more room on the page to deny the excitement. Say mercenary money work, that denies the opportunity for artistic control that a one man creation allows. Maybe just "not for me", move along.

Viking # 2

Written by Ivan Brandon

Art by Nic Klein

Published by Image Comics

This comic might work better if it didn't have the number "2" on it, that way the reader could pretend the reason they don't really know who any of the characters are is because the series has been running for years and gosh you have to just dive in at some point, that's how shitface # 9 learned about comics, why you gotta have everybody hold your hand for fuck's sake, you stupid stupidhead, why don't you whine some more and read some comics for babies, stupid babies, not like us grown-ups who figured out the green lantern corps without even looking at wikipedia once, you dumb shitty shithead, man won't somebody open a comic store where they don't even let these dumb assholes in here while we're gaming fuck YOU man, no FUCK YOU. Art's nice and all, but Viking keeps not being as awesome as it feels like it should be, because seriously, what the fuck is this comic about? Is it about Viking the concept? Which apparently means facial hair and bad familial relationships? More dead children please. Less names to learn, as well.

Dark Avengers # 6

Written by Brian Michael Bendis

Art by Mike Deodato

Published by Marvel Comics

If you've ever read the letters page to the Powers comic book, which Bendis used to write, you already know that the writer has a pretty foul sense of humor, which is something that this office regularly gets behind. In point of fact, the main reason to dive into the Avengers Universe of Comics is to look for those moments where Brian's writing lends itself to the sort of gross out jokes that always popped up in Powers, which is a comic he still owns but doesn't write anymore. For instance, Dark Avengers opens with Namor (who is a jerk with super-powers) and Norman Osborn (who is a jerk without super-powers, we think) having a dick measuring contest that eventually turns into a dick smashing contest, where each of them use verbal hammers to hit each others ego-cocks while the reader waits to see who blinks first. After that, there's one of those "kill all the bad guys" moments that are so popular in super-hero comics nowadays, because they roughly appeal to both sides of the political divide--stupid racists who think that the world would be better off if the Middle East was "turned into a parking lot", and stupid liberals who think that depicting said atrocities in fiction will somehow convince the still-deciding crew into jumping over to their side.

Thunderbolts # 133

Written by Andy Diggle

Art by Miguel Sepulveda & Frank Martin

Published by Marvel Comics

This is one of those comics that spends the majority of its time trying to prove that people who say "the characters actually matter" are wrong, that all spandex clad things are either hero or villain flavored, and thus anything can work in the low-range story machine. It's trying to prove that you don't need Batman when you can have Ratman. That would be worth doing if those people (assholes) were interested in the 133rd issue of a title that seems to change modus operandi about every 2.5 years, but those people (snobby pricks) aren't, because those people (virgins) are too busy finding new ways to rearrange their bookshelves so that all their Seth comics are close enough to each other that a random visitor will say "what are these fine looking hardcovers, I quite enjoy sucking the cock of fine looking hardcover owners what you didnt know i was a dirty slut because i dress like hedda gabler i am totally a dirty slut lemme see that dick oh Its So Big and You Have Such Good Taste In Reprints." No, the only people (also virgins) buying Thunderbolts are people (nerds) who remember that there was some time period where Warren Ellis had the characters do something where the characters didn't all talk like Spider Jerusalem and that seemed really exciting at the time, becuase hey, range & Warren Ellis. That's crazy! Now Thunderbolts is about some people you've never heard of and Nick Fury is mad at his webcam. Maybe somebody keeps calling him a homo.

Dark Wolverine # 75

Written by Daniel Way & Marjorie Liu

Art by Gisueppe Camuncoli, Onofrio Catacchio, Marte Gracis & A. Street

Published by Marvel Comics

One of the most fun things to do when you're a skinny male hipster douchebag and you're stuck somewhere with a overtly testosteroned homophobe is to flirt like your ass will fall off if you don't flirt every couple of minutes. While Dark Wolverine might be trying a bit too hard, there's no denying the simple pleasure in reading part of a Marvel comic where the character turns to the dopy Venom character and offers him a night of sexual pleasure. Dark Wolverine isn't the kind of thing that has any legs to it whatsoever, and it will probably go South soon enough. But if it doesn't, and seeing Wolverine turned a somewhat prissy dipstick who wanders around manipulating everybody around with his mutant pheromone powers becomes the norm, we're going to have a hard time not calling that progress. Not for real life or anything. Just in super-hero comics.

-Tucker Stone, 2009

Economist Versus Idiot: Neil Young Lyrics Don't Apply, But Thanks For Playing

Pretty depressing one this week, although there was a nice spot of good news out of China.

The World Last Week

-While we hit the "hundreds of people dying in the Sudan" thing last week, let's hit it again up top: still happening, no one doing anything. Now they might have to though--a bunch of Sudanese gunmen ripped off a United Nations convoy trying to take food and medical aid to the people the gunmen haven't gotten around to killing yet. The body count on this one is not slowing down, it's accelerating.

-India wants to get its troops out of Kashmir, although things there are still too treachorous for an official time table.

-While the world looks elsewhere, Pakistan is gearing up for a full scale launch against the Pakistani Taliban.

-The mother-in-law of the president of Indonesia was sentenced to four and a half years in the clink for approving bribes to other politicians. That's messed up, sure, but if she actually does go to jail, that's kind of badass on the part of the president for letting her go down. I can't think of a single American president who would sit back and let his mother-in-law go to jail, except maybe Lincoln. That son of a bitch had a spine of metal.

-North Korea claims they're going to kill us all, but that's not really "news" anymore. Irritating as fuck, though.

-Britain got all pissy that the US sent some former Guantanamo Bay prisoners to Bermuda, and the Economist makes a sarcastic joke about it.

-Russia told the UN to get the hell out of Abkhazia. Yeah, that's in Georgia. Remember that war? One year anniversary in two more months.

-Northern Ireland was worried that people thought they had stopped being a scary place, so they harrassed and attacked a bunch of gypsies until 100 Romanians had to flee for their lives. Hey. Northern Ireland. Fucking Quit It.

-Jose Padilla is suing John Yoo for one dollar. This case should really be bigger news, I don't care how sick people might be of thinking about it.

-Myspace fired a bunch of people. Here's a hint as to why: Myspace was really ugly.

-British Airways asked if anybody on staff wanted to work for free, due to the economy. I tried this trick at the grocery store and nearly got arrested for vagrancy.

-Blu-ray discs didn't fix the gaping hole caused by people realizing that not buying DVDs was a good way to save money when the economy started tanking.

Leaders (Iran)

-Okay, the Economist also wrote about Israel, Argentina, financial regulation, the Japanese economy and fund management. But we all know the big story.

-The opening leader is a simple, direct essay regarding Iran, and it leads well into their extensive (and dated) briefing article. Both point to the still breathing merit in news articles written less then a day after the news happens. The salient point, the one that should probably be mentioned more often, is this: "Iran is not a democracy, but its system, which combines unelected religious authority with a subordinate elected civilian one, was designed to give people a chance to let off steam from time to time within carefully set electoral limits." It's all well and good to talk about the ballot box, and it's incredibly moving to see so many in the streets. That doesn't mean the people in the streets are out there protesting the Ayatollah--not yet, at least. What's happened in Iran last week, what continues now--that's a big enough deal on honest terms alone. Pretending that it's something more--like a fullscale rejection of theocracy--is irresponsible, ignorant, and, worst of all, unhelpful. Being excited is one thing, and it's understandable. Rewriting the story wholesale to match up with hopes helps no one.

-The Economist's review of Obama's "wait and see" approach to Iran's election includes one point that's worth repetition: if and when Obama comes out with "full-throated or even material support" for Mir Hosein Mousavi, (beyond the recent stuff, yes) that might work as an immediate motivation for some Iranians to step away from the man. The tendency towards seeing female Mousavi supporters and the physically battered (and dead) protesters as if they are also pro-Americans is purely self-centered identification: some might be, sure. But they aren't in the streets because they're interested in Iran being more like America. They're interested in Iran being their own country, where their vote counts. If a bunch of random Americans were to fly in to stand along side them, some will back away entirely. The easiest thing in the world for the tide to turn would be for America to make it easy to label Mousavi as being, as the Economist puts it, a "stooge of the Great Satan." His support is strong, but not widespread enough to fight that label at the same time he fights the Revolutionary Guard. And here's the thing: that's exactly what Ayatollah Khameni wants--to be able to point to Mousavi and say, "Look. An Agent of the West." 

-The other big story is, yes, Twitter. As the Economist sees it, neither Twitter nor CNN won, although CNN was fucking useless for days. Instead, the praise here goes to the justly deserved Andrew Sullivan, the unfairly maligned Robert Mackey, and some person who I refuse to acknowledge out of contempt for the website which employs him.

Letters

-There was never a hard rule instituted that it was going to be snarkdown with the letters, it just went that way. And yes, there's a good one here--some lady in Washington DC wishing she lived in Columbia because she saw somebody get mugged, the sort of letter that makes you want to crawl around gurgling warm piss because, hey, this is a human being who can vote and stuff, have kids, and yet, and yet, and yet: fucking idiot, she's a fucking idiot. 

But then you read Chris Lowsley's anecdote letter, about how he went to pick up a copy of The Economist in the Shanghai airport during the first week of June, looking to read about the 20th anniversary of Tianmen Square. And guess what? By hand, someone had removed the pages. From every copy. He even got a 5% refund, just to see if he could. That's a good story.

United States

-We'll have to see if that train crash changes things, but as it stands right now, there's no real answer as to where the money for the new $500 billion transport bill recently presented by the House Transportation and Infrastructure Committee. Is it needed? Yes. But when's the last time we got excited about infrastructure in the US?

-Lots of people putting chickens in their backyard, which is nice, unless you peel back the surface and see what this really means: dirty hippies, living near you and your children.

-New York's school system has benefitted from letting Michael Bloomberg run it with his iron fist, or so they say. But the deadline to relinquish control is fast approaching, and Albany wants New York to remember that Bloombergs don't last forever.

-Guess what? Those church surveys that said more people are going to church because of the economic crisis? Not true. In fact, the only real spikes have been after the Cuban Missile crisis and 9/11, and neither of those were permanent spikes.

-Lexington gives a cheesy look at how well Hilary Clinton and Barack Obama get along, and while he's top notch with the information, there's something pretty naive about his surprise. Hopefully he's just faking, but c'mon--high-level politicians getting along out of necessity? That's news now?

The Americas

-Although 28 government officials were arrested last month in a decently-planned Mexican raid, none of those arrested have been charged yet, and it looks like that was the plan all along--bring them in, figure out why afterwards. Few believe that those arrested--prosecutors, ten mayors, a judge, etc--are innocent babes, they're all probably in the pocket of a large drug operation. But without decent evidence, they may go free. Which would kind of miss the point.

-Canada doesn't want to make radioactive isotopes for medical use anymore, which is good, because they were doing a shitty job of filling orders. But the kicker here is that the minister responsible for the state-owned atomic-energy company was caught on tape talking about how it would be really great for her if she could solve the "sexy" isotope crisis. While that's opportunistic and somewhat offensive to the cancer patients who rely on the isotope-powered therapy, i'm more curious as to why she used the word "sexy" in the first place. That's just weird.

Asia

-Australia's had a flare up of anti-Indian violence lately, and Kevin Rudd doesn't seem to be taken it seriously enough for the prime minister of India. Admittedly, the article isn't descriptive enough for one not to lend credence to the Australian explanation--that race is less a factor than urban crime rate--but common sense dictates that, when the prime minister of India steps up and calls the attacks racially motivated, one's relationship with one of the most populous countries on the planet might be better served than to respond by saying "you're wrong, dude."

-I didn't know this was the week that I was going to find out about the progress made in gay rights for homosexuals in China, but it is. You're not going to be mistaking Shanghai for Fire Island anytime soon, but still: progress for homosexuality in fucking China? That's good news.

-Of course, then China gives you the bad news: snail-fever, which is probably able to claim some fatalities because nobody takes a disease called "snail-fever" seriously. Take this one seriously though--and be thankful you don't have to deal with snails that "tunnels through human skin, invades the bloodstream, and lays eggs." Gross as hell, this one. (And the article is titled "Hello Again, God of Plague".)

-Kazakhstan may have allowed more press freedom in recent years, but that doesn't mean that reading about Kazakshtan has gotten much easier--case in point, this article about the recent wave of arrests, almost all of which are amongst the elite. (That's unusual.) With little to go on, the Economist has to play it safe, the "That is ludicrous" response to Stalin's purge comparisons notwithstanding. Here's some information, they say. Interpreting it--that's going to take some time.

-Banyan gives you the North Korea ruler breakdown, and get ready: it's intense, and totally necessary reading. This is the kid who takes over for Kim Jong Il when he goes the way of all flesh. He's 26 years old. We don't know shit else.

Middle East and Africa

-Things in Kenya that happen on a regular basis, according to the Economist: lynching people over petty crimes, lynching people who try to soapbox about their rights on city streets, and--seriously? Okay. Uh, witch hunts. Like, yeah, Crucible style witch hunts, where people chase down and kill old women. For being witches. This is a short one, but it'll stick with you. Vomit.

-Here's the way things have been going for Morgan Tsvangirai: he visits a country, everybody tells him how courageous he is (because he is courageous, a big ole swinging dick of bravery) and then they tell him to head on home without any financial help. That sort of makes sense--Zimbabwe is so corrupt when it comes to aid that the best way to ensure helping the country is to get the money directly into the hands of the population, bypassing the government entirely--but it doesn't change the growing sense that the world is content to sit back and watch Robert Mugabe continue to drive that country into the ground even further than it already is. If Tsvangirai ends up dying a hero, it won't be because the world wasn't aware of him in advance. Nobody twitters about Morgan Tsvangirai now. But if something doesn't change, they will.

-Binyamin Netanyahu had to break down the rhetoric a little, and he actually seems willing to accept a two-state solution. His terms are currently unacceptable to Palestine, pretty far short of what the US wants--but this is Israel we're talking about. It's still a big story.

Europe

-Considering that the Economist has been sued by Silvio Berlusconi (something they don't try to hide), and that Berlusconi recently referred to a Financial Times piece about him as being "bad and dishonest journalism", you probably want to take this article with a grain of salt. At the same time, there's not much room to defend Berlusconi--the guy hates journalism, he always has, and he's done everything one can do, short of some steampunk incarcerations for reporters, to shut them down. Still, this article has to deal out so many specific admissions of possible bias--the Financial Times is a part-owner of the Economist--that it might be better if it was coming from a different publication. (Good luck finding a clean one though. Berlusconi really does hate everybody in this particular field.) Oh, and the girl in the picture is 18, and Berlusconi is a big fan of her. Hint. Involves money. 18 year old girl. In the picture. Hinting.

-One thing France seems to get away with, which is so far beyond me that I even feel somewhat uncomfortable criticizing it, is the way that France keeps dipping their fingers into all their old African colonies. This article points to what Nicolas Sarkozy is doing to get out of that business, but still: why are we still talking about this, France? Get your paws off countries that aren't yours.

-Russia is going to make up its own NATO, which they're calling the Collective Security Treaty Organization, as an alternative to messing with the World Trade Organization. It probably won't work, which could save us learning new acronyms to protest against on trips to Seattle, because at least half the countries involved kind of hate Russia. Or they're the types of countries that like to play the US and the EU against Russia. Wait, that does make it sound like NATO.

-It's always a pleasure to see people pick the same fights for the 900th time, especially when it involves anti-government conspiracies and the threat of violent coups. Don't go changing, Turkey!

Britain

-Did you know that there was going to be an inquiry into British involvement in Iraq? No, I mean again. This is the fifth one. Yeah, lucky number five! It's going to be private, run by a crew that includes a Winston Churchill-focused historian! I bet when they get around to number six or seven, that's when they'll get Russel Brand involved.

-Sometimes politics fight preference, as is the case presented here, with this article about the growing disgust some Brits have for the license fee that goes to the BBC. (The fee hits any home in Britian that has a broadcast-receiving television.) Part of the reason I like the BBC is because of the money they have, because that money allows them to make shows that others couldn't afford (not the reality stuff, that can be done anywhere). And yet--people shouldn't be paying for a television network unless they want to. Luxury problem debate time! You bring the ladyfingers.

-And then there's the other times when Bill Hicks definition of Britain as being "a socialist's wet dream" seems spot on, like when there's a debate about a new tax to pay for high-speed internet. Sure, it's "for everyone", and it would probably benefit them, but what's next? A tax to pay so everybody can have high speed computers? Where does Britain end, and personal choice begin?

International

-There was a meet and talk about dumping the dollar greet between India, Russia, China and Brazil recently. They actually do refer to these meetings as "BRIC" meetings, and I know what you're thinking: I'm thinking it too. Which country whose name starts with a K could join up and make this thing legal? Kazakhstan is a possibility in crazy magic world. Maybe Kentucky could secede. I haven't heard good news out of Kentucky in years.

-You can't really call this particular blurb of horrible information "buried", but after reading about the simple numbers of what has happened to the world's poorest since the advent of the economic crisis, it's hard to swallow it not being as a big a news story as the latest developments in America's attempts to run car companies. Simple, brutal facts: 50 million pregnant women with anaemia, an expected climb of 200,000 to 400,000 in dead children every year, a rise of four million in the already horrifying 121 million underweight children. 

We lose jobs. They lose more. 

Business

-As far as the Economist is concerned, perennial economic whipping country Japan doesn't get to make progress, they get to be patted on the head while everybody sneers and says "Not enough, but thanks for playing." Is the Japanese corporate setup a stupid one? Of course it is. But it's one that's been in place for a long time, it worked extraordinarily well for them, and the fact that they're fixing some of its problems--shutting down unprofitable subsidiaries, pursuing a real diversity with investment--is worth a bit more credit than this article, and this particular publication, seems willing to give.

-Saab was purchased by the Koenigsegg company, which has 45 employees and makes less than 20 cars a year. (The starting cost for one of those cars is 1.2 million dollars.) That's a weird business model, made even weirder by their purchasing a brand that's been throttled into the ground for the last twenty years.

-There's a really nice soap opera piece about some backroom crazy at the house of one of the richest Arab businessmen in the world, one that would take more space than you'll tolerate for me to shrinkwrap. But if you got a hankering for mysteries, this article is a good start.

-Part of the reason people read the Economist is because they can count on the Economist not to waste a line of print on Jon & Kate Plus Eight, which is a show about how America deserves to be attacked by terrorists on a 24 hour basis until all of us are dead, dead, dead. Let me be the first to offer you a shoulder, brothers and sisters: that day is no longer.

-Here's a specificly focused blurb article on the way in which Marcegaglia, a steel company in Italy, has been granting extended vacations to employees (with pay) in exchange for promises that the employees will "make it up" by not taking overtime pay when things get busy again. It's interesting enough that the Economist should have just written it straight, but they introduce and title it like it's a some kind of widespread idea a lot of other companies are a part of. Not exactly, dude.

Finance and Economics

-If you're interested, here's a link to the US federal government's "white paper" on financial regulation. It's straight to a pdf and it takes some time to download. If, after looking at it, you want to know what the Economist thinks, go to this link for their take on it. Here's some alternatives, all of which seem to be really popular right now.

1) Misquote, misremember, and outright lie about its contents.

2) Memorize one or two things in it that you don't agree with, talk about those ad nauseam.

3) Cynically smirk and say "it's going to be totally different when the legislative branch gets done with it, so everybody should chill out."

No matter what, make sure that you mention how much you "love politics" when talking about it, that way people know how serious you are.

-How long did it take for an American private-equity firm to hightail it out of China after realizing that the playing field was about as level as that spike floor in the old Flash Gordon movie? Five years.

-They invited, Christina Romer, the chairwoman of Barack Obama's Council of Economic Advisors to write an article, which she totally did, one where she drew parallels to the Great Depression, argued against the relatively accepted argument that the Depression was ended by World War II, and basically said "trust me, I'm really good at this stuff." She's a pretty well-known scholar of the Depression and one of the policy-makers involved with current American economic planning, which makes this article a worthy, intelligent read. But it's also propaganda. And while propaganda can, sometimes, be just as accurate as anything else...it's still fucking propaganda.

-It would be pretty interesting if the bankruptcy of Six Flags--OMG didn't you hear?--was the straw that broke the camel of irresponsible credit-default swaps, but considering how difficult it is to grasp ahold of the complex equation of what (probably) happened with Six Flags, that won't happen. (Financial regulation still requires a mob complaint, and mobs need a simple premise for the torch-lighting ceremony.) Pointedly, it could be boiled down to "bankruptcy [being] more attractive than solvency" to lenders, but even that requires some further explanation. Like, further than me. C'mon now.

Science and Technology

-Although this article is entirely focused on some people who are working with sound to make black holes on a desk--yes, and now you want to read it, don't you--my favorite part is where they open by talking about the Large Hadron Collider, which costs a bunch of countries billions of dollars, broke after a week of use, and hasn't been fixed yet. Remember that rap video? Looks pretty dumb now.

-They might start using a plasma torch to deal with tooth infections, and since that could be a relatively painless process when compared to the current one, a lot of people will probably be very happy to hear about that. My dentist is my abusive father, and I don't anticipate him making the upgrade, so I remain nonplussed.

-If you look more like your dad, your dad subconsciously loves and treats you better. That's what science proved this week. (Kind of.)

Books and Arts

-Liberty in the Age of Terror sounds like a must read, even when you just focus solely on the simple, concise idea that author A.C. Grayling puts forth regarding the "if you don't break the law, you have nothing to fear from the ever-expanding powers of the government to spy on absolutely anyone for imagined reasons" attitude. As Grayling puts it, that mentality stems from the belief that the government's interest "will always be benign". It speaks to a mindset where the individual can place faith in governments that lie about the reasons for war, governments that fail to protect and care for their own soldiers, governments that torture the innocent--governments that pad their expense account to build a moat. It's the mentality of the fool, the ignorant, and the damned.

-Hey, a book about roads!

-Hey, a book about quitting a high-paying government job due to ethics! RARE.

-Due to the job that I spend my non-blog time at, I've had to pay way more attention to Art fucking Basel than I did to the food/sleep equation during the run-up to the show, and now that it's over, I could give two fucking shits about reading about it. Is Art Basel a big deal for a lot of really fantastic people? Sure is. But if the entire place burned to a cinder, the world would lose a lot of septic trash alongside the tragic destruction of the masterpieces and lovely folk as well. And if you think you disagree with that statement, than guess what? You don't know a fucking thing about Art Basel.

-This Thursday, at a theater near you, maybe: Helen Mirren as Phedre, live. How can a play be live in a theater near you, regardless of where you are, maybe? Because it's going down Wrestlemania style.

Obituary: Omar Bongo

-Fantastic piece of writing here--gotta say, the obituaries are really stepping it up as of late. Omar Bongo had been the president of Gabon since 1967, a forty two year period in which he used the entire country as his personal bank, giving himself a life few in Africa could realistically imagine. (If you don't have the internet or a television in certain parts of Africa, you could conceivably live your entire life without any knowledge of Genera Hypercolor and Spencer Pratt, lucky devil.) At the same time, I'll acknowledge the same depressing fact that this obit closes with: Gabon's history isn't covered in the sort of horrible degradation and terror that other Central African countries are. That's not to excuse Bongo's sociopathic selfishness. But you can't really call him a monster. Sure knows how to pose for a photograph, too.

Television Of The Weak: Make You Bow Down To The Row

This week, we figure out if we're missing anything by ignoring Burn Notice, check in with True Blood, The Apprentice UK & The Mighty Boosh, all while poking Gordon Ramsay's F-Word with a stick.

Burn Notice – “Friends and Family” by Martin Brown

Your intrepid TFO columnist took a swing at Burn Notice based strictly on the recommendation of The Onion’s A.V. Club. Jeffrey Donovan, star of The Blair Witch Project 2, plays Michael Weston, a former spy who is running his own former spy business of some sort. The “previously on” segment at the beginning of test-episode “Friends and Family,” the first episode of the third season, was incomprehensible. All we really needed to know was that Weston jumped into the ocean from a helicopter at the end, and that’s where this season begins. The plot of “Friends and Family,” in contrast to the undecipherable cross-episode arc, was immediately recognizable as the old Buddy Turns Up Out of Nowhere and Oops He’s a Bad Guy cliché. The whole thing was strung together with a voice-over by Donovan that sounded like he was pissed because the director told him to annunciate, so he snarkily dropped any kind of acting he might have done and replaced it with merely saying the words crisply.It’s difficult to tell how much of Burn Notice is intentional parody, and how much is unintentional badness. Points in favor of the former option, include the casting of Bruce Campbell—possibly the best symbol of self-conscious satire they could have found—playing a dude named Sam Axe, Weston’s right-hand man. Points against include the casting of Gabrielle Anwar as Michael’s foil, who sexy-poses her way through the episode, but ultimately is kinda freaky-looking. The action, however, hits the right spots. “Friends and Family” plays out a bit like a heist movie, as we observe the team meticulously planning out their course of action and then improvising when things go wrong. At one point, Michael is tied to a chair and has to cut his way out with a concealed knife. He slices through his own wrists in the process. It’s a moment that both recalls action-film clichés and subverts them, but there aren’t enough of those kinds of moments in “Friends and Family” to indicate that Burn Notice is smart enough to operate on both of those levels. Ultimately, it’s more of an homage to 80’s shows like MacGyver or Remington Steele.

Like fellow USA network dwellers Psych and Monk, Burn Notice is a low budget genre-imitation designed to compete with the major networks. Unlike Psych and Monk, which both echo Columbo and CSI in equal measure, Burn Notice is built as a pure action thriller. The virtue of cable networks’ original programming—the kind that FX set the benchmark for, and AMC is currently ruling—is that they can bring slightly sub-HBO caliber writing and conceptualization to a broader audience. In other words, it’s usually edgier than typical prime time. USA tends to go in the other direction. They may have pioneered cable networks’ original programming with the if-I-stay-up-til-12:45-I-might-just-maybe-catch-a-glimpse-of-a-side-boob classic Silk Stockings, but these days they opt for those diluted, family-friendly procedurals. Burn Notice has the kind of low-rent action and suspense that you’d find on a straight-to-DVD Steven Seagal movie, except without as charismatic a leading man. Wisely, USA has put all of its money into advertising.

The Mighty Boosh - "Electro" by Sean Witzke

Naboo hands Howard a trumpet: "Play this."
Howard: "Play it? Are you high?"
Naboo grins: "Yeah."Meet the Spirit of Jazz, previously seen in the third season episode Journey To The Center of the Punk. That episode is just a pale redux of "Electro". Howard loves Jazz and Vince loves Electro, and it's about the two genres clashing. Electro vs. Jazz makes a lot more sense than Punk vs. Jazz, at least in the context of the Boosh. Simply in the the dialog, the way Howard calls Electro simple little nursery rhymes and saying Vince is afraid of abstract melodies makes a lot more sense than the unexplained Punk vs. Jazz antagonism. The Spirit of Jazz is the funniest thing about this episode, Noel Fielding in Live and Let Die-style skeleton voodoo blackface who talks in a Christian Bale-style rasp and New Orleans accent. He's evil, threatening, and surprisingly human (even though his fourth-wall breaking death stare at the audience is one of the freakiest things I've ever seen on Adult Swim).

Cut this week - the intro, Vince playing the Human League (clearly for rights issues), Vince comparing himself to Mick Jagger and Rod Stewart, and explaining how both of them worked in pet shops, a long and actually quite sweet conversation between young Howard and a bartender played by Rich Fulcher, the Spirit of Jazz repeatedly calling Howard an asshole (or "ayssss-ole"), the girls telling Howard that he looks like a pedophile (which he does). Seems like a lot, but it's not much and really only cuts out some proper swearing. But I like proper swearing, it's fucking funny. It's cunting, felching, multiple-cock-chokingly funny. I miss it.

The basic plot of the episode is - Vince gets into a band with two weird and angry electro girls, pisses off their keyboardist, gets Howard the musical genius to replace him. The catch is that he sold his soul to the Spirit of Jazz and completely loses it whenever he touches an instrument. It's just phrased that the Spirit of Jazz is "gonna creep inside you like a warm kitten".

You may or may not think rape is funny - but the Boosh think rape IS REALLY FUNNY. So I guess that's the key to whether or not you think the Boosh is funny, because antagonist x threatening either Vince or Howard is an element of comedy at least 3/5 of the entire series. Not in a half-assed gay panic frat comedy way either. When they're not being threatened with rape (or being raped) the show tends to go in really odd directions of a sexual nature. The way that it never comes off as coarse or bawdy is the shows real strength. If last week's panda fuckfest taught us anything, it's that The Mighty Boosh is a kinky show.

The Spirit of Jazz spends the entire episode threatening to "come inside Howard" and eventually does by way of his ass. This is all done in a non-sexual way, despite all the undertones that are being tracked through. Theres something really funny about the metaphor for completely losing it to one's jazz muse being played out as rape (it's also really funny to write this much about rape without worrying someone on When Fangirls Attack is going to lose it on me in an inarticulate manner. HA!). The simple, stupid werewolf/monster "beast inside me" warhorse has been beaten so many times that this seems brazen in it's decision to go the complete opposite way. The way that the terrible thing happens and it's of absolutely no consequence just makes it funnier. The best thing about the Boosh is that even when the worst thing happens, there's still time to stand around and talk about how screwy it was.

True Blood - "Keep This Party Going" by Nina Stone

The way that the various plots, subplots and story lines interweave throughout this episode is artwork. Seriously. Truly a tapestry of weirdness. Just when I can't get my mind around Tara, the weird vibrating woman, Sam, et al, I'm bounced into Jason's new shiny world of Jesus Christ, who I understand is very important to those of you who are not from my Chosen flock.  It's a pretty hilarious parody of the more out-there parts of evangelical Christianity, the Christian Music scene, and it's played as if it's trying to shine a light on the underbelly of raw sexual energy that is found among, well, cults.And just when that gets too be entirely too much for the mind, we're either back with the vampire thing and Lafayette. OH! Lafayette! What a way to go. Or did he go? Will Lafayette be a vampire when next we see him? I kind of hope so. He said it himself - he'd make a great vampire. He's already all deviant and over-sexed. So, why not? (Please please please please please please please!)

And of course, when the blood and gore and harshness of all that undead/suck blood takes its toll, we've got Sookie to look forward to. Sookie and Bill. Sookie and Bill and Jessica? Now that's a new twist. Adolescent newbie vampire Jessica, playing Sookie like a Violin and making Sookie take her to her former home to see her folks. Just to see them from a distance. I mean the doorstep! I mean inside the house! And in the midst of that experience....as Jessica's father arrives home to the return of his long missing daughter - he's barely happy to see her, but very happy to punish her for being gone -- we watch Jessica's teenage human fantasies become a reality as she gets ready to drain the life blood out of her father, fangs at the ready. And then, oh yeah, Bill shows up. (He's her "Master". He made her. It was his punishment that was doled out instead of him having to go to Vampire Hell/Jail for 5 years.) He has to convince the little sister to invite him inside because Jessica won't--which kind of defeats the whole "Master" thing--and once he's in he stops the nonsense and yells at Sookie. She kind of deserved it though. She fucked up. And as her words to him, "Bill, please don't kill all of them!" trail off whle he pushes her out the door and closes the door in her face, you realize that is exactly what he's going to have to do. And although Sookie will want to blame Bill for this, she can only blame herself. Oh, relationships. Will the two of them ever truly accept each other for who they are?

I don't think I forgot anything. I mean, I forgot to explain it if you don't watch it, but that's not really my thing this week, I guess. It was a tasty episode. Just the right amount of stuff happening, yet leaving me hungry for more. And thinking about poor Lafayette in my free time. (Please, let him be a vampire. Please!)

Gordon Ramsay's F-Word - "Season 4: Episode 1" by Tucker Stone

In case reading between the lines of Martin Brown's sarcastic jibes proved too exhausting, here's the backstage gossip: I'm the guy who watches everything Gordon Ramsay does, even if that's him doing the same thing he's done a thousand times before, but worse. Keeping up with The F-Word isn't a chore. It's a fucking pleasure.

Thankfully, the F-Word might just be the best distillation of the Ramsay personality. More food-magazine than food-competition, the F-Word breaks down into a simple format: a three part competition for a team of four amateur chefs, run in a more ribald version of the Hell's Kitchen format, a "reality" show portion dealing with Gordon and the full Ramsay family raising some type of animal in his backyard (which they will eventually slaughter in the season finale), and a hilariously edited "recipe" portion where Gordon supposedly teaches you how to cook something by announcing the ingredients in a booming voice-over, jump-cutting to close-up food porn shots, and then saying "Done" like he's just decided whether Maximus can kill the losing gladiator. It's a show that worships Gordon Ramsay, for people who worship Gordon Ramsay. Which makes it awesome, especially if you strenuously avoid finding out anything about who the real Gordon Ramsay is.

The 4th season premiere wasn't without disappointment--Ramsay's blindfold force-feeding of feet, eyeballs and various other gross-out cuisines was a bit too Fear Factor, especially when Ramsay and his celebrity chef victim kept deteriorating into barely-heard private jokes, and the less said about the loudmouth co-star who will handle the whole "raise an animal so we can kill it in the finale" in Ramsay's place, the better--but it was pretty great watching Ramsay try to ridicule Geri "Former Spice Girl Turned Yoga Freak" Halliwell when he was clearly crushing on her at the same time. The amateur cook competition, always the least interesting part of the show, was dealt with quickly enough, and the next episode--where a goofy newscaster and his goofy family will appear--looks like it has potential. Either way, you're either into watching this dude scream "donkey" or you're not. I've got no qualms.

The Apprentice UK: "Week Eight Directors Cut" & "Week Nine"

After last weeks' DVR mishap, I caught up with Apprentice UK on the Director's Cut tip. While it's abnormally pleasurable to hear a scruffy billionaire say the line "I don't like asslickers" to a room full of strangers, the Director's Cut of the Apprentice UK basically means "lots of helicopter shots of London while a swiped version of the American Beauty soundtrack plays." Week Eight saw the two teams--First Forte and Impact--go to war in a farmer's market, and they were given what sounded like the longest prep time for a challenge yet, with three full days of preparation. They had to use that time preparing an actual product to sell, using ingredients they purchased from local farmers. Because Impact is made up of nice, ambitious people, they cooked their own soup and didn't scrimp on the ingredients. Because First Forte is made up of two pushovers and the increasingly awful Saira, they cheaped out on ingredients and strongarmed some woman they barely know to make them a bunch of jams for free, telling her that she would get "exposure." That's sort of true--I now know that there's a woman in Britain who I can easily manipulate into doing free work. I don't know her name or where she works, but hey: I'm aware that such a person exists.

First Forte won. Unsurprisingly, First Forte kicked the shit out of Impact when they won, thus validating Saira's belief that her behavior--which roughly breaks down to screeching and telling people to be quiet so she can screech more--will translate into a high-paying job in the financial sector. 

Which may be true, but makes her no less annoying. Ben, a guy who honestly always seemed like he was too high class to even take the job this show is offering, got a cab ride home.

The ninth episode could roughly be called "more of the same"; technically, it could even be called "the exact same thing, louder, in a different location." This time, Saira took the manager duties in a competition to see who could get the most football fans roped into a poorly explained mobile phone based subscription service. Luckily, all they had to do was convince people to text a phone number. It started off well, with Saira immediately infuriating the football team's advertising manager to such a degree that he refused to assist either team in any fashion, only for the voice-over to point out that Saira's loss was actually Saira's gain, as her team had barely designed a gimmick at the time, while the other team was already wholly dependent on the permissions of the advertising manager. After he rescinded all promises, Saira's team ended up with a bunch of professional posters, a team of sluts to pass them out, and the other guys had to resort to printing out giant letters and hoping for the best.

But when the day of recognition came, Saira hit some kind of emotional collapse, wandering around the stadium with a megaphone, rarely explaining what it was she wanted people to do, while the other team--Paul, Tim and Miriam--took the time to convince people to text the necessary phone number while in their presence. In the boardroom, it was revealed that this hands-on approach worked extraordinarily well, with Tim, Paul & Miriam defeating Saira's squadron of complaint easily. Unfortunately, Sir Alan Sugar, realizing what a find he had in Saira--in terms of sheer television ridiculousness--used the opportunity to take Raj off the table. While Raj was a nuisance and a dumb contestant to boot, his biggest crime was also the one he addressed openly: "I don't have much of a personality, and I know that."

No, you don't. Next time? Try screaming.

-Sean Witzke, Nina Stone, Tucker Stone & Martin Brown, 2009

The Virgin Reader: We All Laugh At 4th Grade Shlongs

Herogasm # 2
Written by Garth Ennis
Art by John McCrea, Keith Burns & Tony Avina
Published by Dynamite Entertainment

I think this is going to be kind of short. Because there's really only one thing to say about this comic, which is "oh my God!" And there's only one word to describe it: Irreverent. 

Okay, I'll say a little bit more. This is a hilarious comic. I mean, it's the same idea that's behind The Boys - the idea that superheroes aren't necessarily always on the up and up. And that though they are super people, they aren't very good people. I suppose you could attempt to say that Herogasm and The Boys is merely a reflection on larger themes such as corruption in government and/or the police force or even something as simple as the idea that every single person on Earth has flaws. It might be suggested that that's really what Garth Ennis and John McCrea and friends had in mind:  to open a discussion on such themes. While doodling vaginas and penises.

Honestly though? I feel like they were sitting around getting drunk one night and were like, "Dude! How hilarious would it be to sell a comic showing, like, Batman and Superman runnin' a train on Wonder Woman! And her totally diggin' it! And then all of them doin' blow together!!! People would FLIP out!" Can't you picture it? I even bet that the original sketches had the more "mainstream" heroes drawn in the worst possible way. And at the behest of some best friend who was like, "You CAN'T do that! People will not only not buy it, but they will trash you all over the message boards," they changed it up to be their made up superhero characters.  

Which leads me to these pictures. I mean, at first I'm all prudish and so happy that I decided to read this in the privacy of my own home and not on the subway. But I'm barely looking at the pictures. Then, all my bashful behavior goes out the window as I begin to not only look at the pictures, but scour them for all the hilarity therein. I mean, each panel has as much sex, inappropriate behavior and grossness as can possibly be squeezed in. It's HILARIOUS! It's the Where's Waldo of getting it on. It's Richard Scarry's Busytown Penthouse Letters.

Do I care about the plot? No, not really? Do I want to know what happens next? Not really. All I want is to see pictures of more obscene stuff, because it's funny. It's like they took these heroes who we usually see in all of there out-of-proportion glory in spandex and said, "You like your heroes to look like that? Do you? Well, here's what that looks like naked. Naked and fucking." There's flaccid penises that are bigger than the their owner's head. That's pretty great.

As a series, I don't know how it works. It's a great joke. And it worked out well for an issue. But I'm not planning to check it out again--I can't really see how a gag like this can keep it up. 

Heh. Keep it up?

-Nina Stone, 2009 

Comics Of The Weak: If Peter Milligan Had Written Fantasy Island, That Guy Probably Wouldn't Have Shot Himself

The Trial of Thor # 1
Written by Peter Milligan
Art by Cary Nord & Christina Strain
Published by Marvel Comics

Although part of Thor's schtick is that he spends his time in a world somewhat removed from our own, where He-Man figures walk around wearing layered outfits mixing Viking/Mongolian Horde/Knights of the Round Table styles while talking about Thor as if they're little girls at a slumber party--seriously, all you need to complete that vision would be footie-pajamas and the line "he's so dreamy too"--Milligan delivers two relatively smart bits of humor amongst the Cary Nord bloodfest to keep the whole ship afloat. The first is that Thor's home team has its own CSI team, although it's just one "smelly mage" who depends upon the Norse version of DNA, which is called "haltija..the true thatness of a thing." The second is that the title of the comic--The "Trial" of Thor--is a big ha ha joke. When Asgard tries to put Thor on trial, Thor sneers and says "How about I put YOU ON TRIAL BITCHES" and then he goes around owning the local police force with the cunning tactic of hitting people with a hammer, before reaching a Hugh Laurie style epiphany after throwing a temper tantrum. If only the last page of the comic included a bit of dialog where The Divine Hammer looked down at his erstwhile imitation and said "Suck it", this would just about be a perfect comic. (It would also help if Marvel Comics had any interest in subtlety when it came to coloring, but at this point reading any big two super-hero comics means you've long given up on caring about the Crimes Of Adobe.)

Batman Streets of Gotham # 1

Written by Paul Dini

Art by Dustin Nguyen & Derek Fridolfs

Published by DC Comics

Apparently Paul Dini is worried you aren't paying enough attention to him, beyond saying "oh the cartoon fella, the one who works with that Dustin Nguyen guy." His solution is to go for skeeving it out as much as possible, bringing in some of that good old "who wants to fuck a ten year old" action, because God knows that's necessary to make a Bat-Story work, some moment where we wallow in the swamp of ten-year-old prostitutes heading for that whole "I've shut down my emotional life due to horrible sexual trauma." The nice thing about it, and by nice, read disgusting, is that Dini does such a fine job of presenting a tiny tot rape victim that one can't help but think "hey, save her now, sure, but she's clearly been raped multiple times before, where was Batman then, pardon my weeping." While it's true that this is the sort of depravity that the aging Bat-reader apparently demands--not just costumed supervilliains, but abused little girl rape victims--that doesn't make it any more tolerable, especially when the story's climax reveals that the little girl probably was incinerated by the Firefly. Oh, and if that line about Star Trek is the sort of shit that was in that Manhunter comic on the regular, no wonder it got cancelled 800 times and is now appearing in back up features about how she's the worst job-hunter in the world.

Captain America # 600

Written by Ed Brubaker, Roger Stern, Mark Waid & Stan Lee

Art by Butch Guice, Howard Chaykin, Rafael Albuquerque, David Aja, Mitch Breitweiser, Frank D'Armata, Edgar Delgado, Matt Hollingsworth, Kalman Andrasofszky, Marte Gracia, Dale Eaglesham, Paul Mounts & Al Avison

Published by Marvel Comics

There's a potential here for the Bru to write a really strong, intelligent story that stays in line with the work he's done so far--but having faith that's coming-for-sure is a stupidly optimistic assumption based around a thought process where Marvel gives a rats ass about who works on their film properties. They don't. The evidence for that isn't hard to find either, it's in this particular issue itself: an opening story by Brubaker that does it's best not to collapse in on itself in shame and laughter due to the notion that the Steve Rogers resurrection is apparently built around a "magic bullet" fired by a "magic handgun" that Sharon the crybaby finally magically remembered, which is still sitting in some guys bedroom closet. After that, it's a terrible story about Cappy's old next door neighbors--which is obviously going to be part of whatever stupid thing is coming next, and is completely lacking in any of the tone or appearance that D'Armata, Brubaker & the house artists have spent the last few years creating--followed by one of those if-you-hold-your-breath, Captain-America-will supernaturally become a part of the fabric of the very real American history itself, you just have to wish at the wishing tree, and then, because why not, there's a reprint of some old story where caricature-people-fight-other-caricature-people and somebody responds to the line "you're doomed" by saying "ha ha ha, it is you who are doomed!" In other words, it's the same kind of crass "everybody in the pool, even the guy with pinkeye" mentality that shows up with every anniversary issue, ever, including the one where they retold Batman's first adventure 800 times in a row. As a bonus, there's one of those Alex Ross stories that lasts two pages long. Actually, that's probably a punishment for something.

Ultimatum: Spider-Man Requiem # 1

Written by Brian Michael Bendis

Art by Mark Bagley and Stuart Immonen

Published by Marvel Comics

If you called the terrible "climax" of Ultimate Spider-Man an abortion--which it totally was, a tremendously lazy comic built around the idea that since Stuart Immonen is a good artist, he will probably be able to spin a meandering idea made of shit into Eisner-winning gold, like the alchemists of old--then you really don't have any more words to use when it comes time to talk about Ultimatum: Spider-Man Requiem, especially if you've previously said insensitive things about the gross thing that comes after abortions back when you were reading Ultimate Power. Of course, you do kind of have to stick to your guns, and this cynical piece of garbagio--where Bendis turns back the clock on both Peter and J. Jonah Jameson for another sentimental tour around the pre-school definition of "what it means to be a hero"--is pretty similar to whatever you find in the biological waste bins behind Planned Parenthood clinics. The only difference is that those dumpster-divers have the decency to leave it behind--human fat being easier to move than 'widdle' toes--whereas Marvel feels the need to yank it out, put it in some formaldehyde, and sell it as new.

Hellblazer # 256

Written by Peter Milligan

Art by Giuseppe Camuncoli, Stefano Landini & Jamie Grant

Published by Vertigo/DC Comics

While this week certainly brought the Hey We're Adults Now, Look At This Blood And Stuff, this issue of Hellblazer takes an altogether different tactic in its attempt to keep up the yuck factor with its shelf-space brothers, as John Constantine pulls the old "let's do some mental rape" to a perfectly nice, sane girl who just happens to have made the mistake of not wanting to date the Vertigo version of Matthew Murdock--i.e. a horrible boyfriend with a history of headstones on the "relationship" star chart. Of course, taking "he's a bastard" seriously has always been one of the tools in the Hellblazer chest-of-tales, so it's not too off base for John to be doing stuff that's just plain disgusting. Still, this is a rough road to go down, and if it wasn't for the fact that Peter Milligan was handling the story, one might even have to resort to one of those "You're doing it wrong" complaints. But it is Milligan, so fuck it. Even if this was somebodies first taste of the 'Blazer, they'd still be getting an accurate, if particularly mean-spirited, introduction. Considering that this issue also worked out to be the first thing old Simon Bisley's done for DC in a good long while, there might just be some popped cherries anyway.

Hawkeye # 3

Written by Andy Diggle

Art by Tom Raney & Scott Hanna

Published by Marvel Comics

And so continues the saga of doing things in the incorrect order: does the BullHawk drop any dames, SAT-requirement style? Does he re-up on his membership to the in-vogue "comic book character blows up helicopter with little effort" club? No? Oh. Well, what's in place of that? Something meaner?

How about a scene where he goes and talks to a psychiatrist and uses the "My friend has been fantasizing about scat-porn and his brother for a couple of weeks, will medication make that go away" method of talk-therapy by subterfuge? Yikes. These are the kind of twists old enough for Stan Lee to claim he's being plagiarized. Of course, he'd probably take credit for inventing black presidents if you let him. There is a mystery here, kind of, since the main character doesn't recognize someone the comic later tells us he should easily remember, but there's still going to be a lot of work necessary to top a story that seems to have peaked back in the first issue, when the BullHawk taught the reader about the easiest way to remove a contact lens.

Punisher # 6

Written by Rick Remender

Art by Tan Eng Huat & Lee Loughridge

Published by Marvel Comics

After a tour of duty on Ghost Rider, Tan Eng Huat moves over to the head-shaking-why-again mainstream Marvel Punisher comic currently being steered by Rick Remender, and while your extra dollar will net you an opportunity to read what Remender and Huat think of the various Z-grade characters they've resurrected--the best part being Huat's claim that "I took a lot of time-redesigning the helmet. In the end he looks like he's wearing an old diving suit"--it's still just another Punisher comic where the fundamental lack of tension won't serve it well. Whereas the MAX Frank Castle was able to prove that a Punisher story could be believably edge-of-your-seat-y, as the actual climax could never be specifically predictable, this particular tactic--a bunch of joke characters resurrected so that Frank can kill them--couldn't be less suspenseful if it was a comic book version of the Onion's Shooting People In The Face FPS. Will Frank be able to take Turner D. Century down? Of course, that's not the point, asshole--the point is this: Turner D. Century! He rides a bike! Isn't that hilarious? Of course, with the world the way it is, there'd probably be just as rabid an audience if Frank was fighting the SWAT Kats: Radical Squadron too, and that's sort of the point as well. Instead of admitting it's just low-hanging fruit for the "i'm so goddamn ironic I'll even quote poetry" club, you wink and say "Yay comics". Whatever. Getting raped by a clown is still getting raped. Ask my cousin about that one.

-Tucker Stone, 2009

Music of the Weak: We’ve All Got That Pescado Smell

Jay-Z – “D.O.A. (Death of AutoTune)”

So it’s come to this. Jay-Z is starting beef with machines now. Don’t get me wrong—dude is paying attention. Whether or not he actually believes that AutoTune and ringtone rap is driving the rap industry toward “The Great Depression,” Jay-Z is filling a niche. He’s putting a musical voice to something that plenty of people legitimately feel. Except that Jay-Z tends to be the one starting the trends, not dismissing them. (Notice how I carefully use the present tense of “tend,” because I hold out hope that this Blueprint 3 debacle that we’re heading toward will only be a phase.) It’s as if The Rolling Stones had kicked off Some Girls with a track called “Disco Sucks,” instead of railing against their naysayers with “Miss You.” Jay-Z just seems a little like he’s whining, and it’s not sexy. Plus, Jay has a way of making his opponent’s argument for him (cf, that weird little “Wonderwall” thing.) Here, he brings in Kanye to back up No ID’s production—which nearly lifts Janko Nilovic’s “In the Space” in its entirety—and “sing” Steam’s “Na Na Hey Hey Kiss Him Goodbye” for the “hook.” Thing is, as Kanye’s weak vocals attest, the song would probably be greatly improved with AutoTune. See picture.

Das Racist – “Combination Pizza Hut and Taco Bell (Wallpaper Remix)”

This sad song in which two friends wander around the same Pizza Hut/Taco Bell without ever being able to find each other reaches Samuel Beckett levels of profundity. Time and space cease to exist. Identity is called into question. Senses come alive. The journey is merely at its beginning. We are all in the Pizza Hut. We are all in the Taco Bell. We are all in the Combination Pizza Hut and Taco Bell.

Dirty Projectors – “Stillness is the Move”

Talking about the Dirty Projectors seems like it’s got to be a lot of work— conceptually, they’re the highest of the high-concept bands, so it feels mandatory to trot out references to Yale’s School of Music, rhythmic changes, Timbaland, their album-length cover of Black Flag’s Damaged, string quartets, and the African influences on David Longstreth’s guitar playing. By all rights, Bitte Orca, the band’s latest album, should groan under the weight of its own pretentions. It doesn’t, largely because of the cohesive songwriting that ties all of those disparate pieces together. “Stillness is the Move,” the album’s lead single and stand-out track, has a whiff of novelty about it, as Amber Coffman sings about getting a job as a waitress over a beat that could easily support either Vampire Weekend or Themselves. The chorus is pure sugar—“After all that we’ve been through/I know we’ll make it”—with lyrics rumored to be snaked from an Excel spreadsheet of pop clichés. The bland plays that sweetness off of a pitchy, abrasive guitar line, so that it’s enticing and off-putting at the same time. At TFO headquarters, we’ve been playing this one non-stop. Who knows if it’ll hold up over time, but this is the first time in a while—or at least since Gang Gang Dance’s “House Jam”—we’ve gotten a hold of an indie rock song we don’t quite know what to do with.

DJ Quik & Kurupt – “9X Outta 10”

Turns out 2009 has been a pretty great year for the rap music so far, especially compared to the bottomless fuckpit that was 2008. MF Doom, Mos Def and UGK put out career albums while newer talents like Finale, Blu and Theophilus London are making smaller ripples of their own—and God knows how many Wu-Tang related projects are slated to come out by the end of the year. Amidst all this, DJ Quik & Kurupt have garnered the best press of their respective, perennially under-rated careers for their collaboration, BlaQKout. Lead single “9X Out of 10” is a master class in hip-hop production, and lyrical tension. Quik starts out with a minimal beat that The Clipse would fall all over themselves to rap on, and slowly tweaks it out with chopped up operatic vocal clips. Kurupt brings a dense flow with such momentum that he doesn’t even stop with Quik gets on the mic. It is, however, still unclear what exactly is happening nine times out of ten.

The Bling Blongs – “Smells Like Teen Spirit (Live at M1-5)”

We don’t fuck around.

-Martin Brown, 2009