…You just need to see Snake Eyes fighting a shark.
And that’s real.
…You just need to see Snake Eyes fighting a shark.
And that’s real.
Who would’ve thought that a story that starts like this…
…and ends like this…
…could go so horribly wrong in the middle?
Yes, despite the fact that this E. Nelson Bridwell/Kurt Schaffenberger story from the pages of Superman’s Girl Friend Lois Lane #69 (tee hee) could’ve been the story that Silver-Age readers were demanding, “Beware the Bug-Belle” is quite possibly the most nauseating story I’ve ever read. I mean, just look at that title. “The Bug-Belle.” That’s promising.
So here’s how it all goes down: The story opens with a portrait of a rivalry that has turned into a bitter, all consuming hatred, held in check only by the strict rules of polite society circa 1966. Lana Lang’s apartment is being redecorated, and so Lois puts her up for a few weeks, shoving Lana’s face in memories of her romantic triumphs at every opportunity under the guise of altruism. As you might expect, Lana can only take so much before she snaps, and on the day that she no longer needs to crash at Casa Lane, she conveniently “leaves the water on” after doing the dishes.
And thus, Lois’s place is trashed, giving Lana the upper hand. She offers to let Lois stay at her place, inviting her in to see the new decorations. It’s a pretty nice apartment, too, and to her credit, Lana doesn’t say “This is what you could afford if you were pretty enough for television” or, when showing off her collection of Superboy memorabilia, “He loved me first, you crone. You are an afterthought, and will never know him like I did.”
The tension is almost unbearable.
Once Lana’s off to the West Coast, however, Lois immediately pays her back for her apparent kindness by rifling through her stuff and looking for something to steal, and it’s at this point that this story starts to diverge from the normal, barely repressed hostility that drives comics second-most famous romantic rivals, as this is when Lois finds Lana’s Insect Queen costume and ring.
For those of you who don’t have a full set of Legion of Super-Heroes Archives, I’ll explain: Lana once saved the life of a weird pink alien who was trapped under a log (because, you know, Kansas) and was rewarded with a ring that would “temporarily change into any arthropod form.” In practice, this pretty much means that she was a teenage girl from the waist up and a horrifying giant insect from the waist down, and as far as super-powers go, it was better than Arm-Fall-Off Boy. But not by much.
Anyway, no sooner has Lois found the ring and costume than she hears that there’s a fire downtown, and since Superman and Supergirl are both off in space (which is what you’d tell Lois too if you had to deal with her every single day), she decides to take matters into her own horrible claws:
Now, I don’t know about you guys, but given the choice between a burning building and having a half-insect Lois Lane snag me with her thirty-foot tongue and clutch me to her segmented thorax in her hairy pincer arms, I’d take my chances with the fire. Fortunately for Lois, though, that just happens to be this kid’s exact fetish.
Public reaction is about what you’d expect.
Okay, okay: I may–may–have edited that picture slightly. The citizens of Metropolis had pretty much seen it all in those days, and so they welcome their newest and most disgusting savior with open arms, despite the fact that her stint as “a Mosquito Maid” is just… just awful.
And it gets worse.
Before long, Lois’s attempts to fill the aching void in her soul with publicity backfire, and a woman by the name of O’Mara shows up to steal the ring, and… and…
Oh God now there’s more than one of them.
Okay… Okay keep it together. Deep breaths. So Lana comes back and they realize that O’Mara’s also taken pages from a book on Kryptonian insects that Lana has laying around (?), and then…
Oh holy crap…
Oh no… Oh nonononono… no more…
Okay, that’s it. I’m done here. If anybody needs me, I’ll be in the bathroom doing my impression of the bad guys from River City Ransom.
…the ISB presents Double Entendres of the 1950s, from the recent Hermes Press reprint of Andru and Esposito’s Get Lost!:
Pretty risqué for 1954, especially once you find out her twin sister is named “Dirty.”
Disbelief, meet violence:
Not since chocolate and peanut butter has there been a combination so satisfying!
That’s right, folks: The comparison of acts of violence to candy can only mean one thing: It’s Thursday night, and it’s time for another round of the Internet’s Most Delicious Comics Reviews! Here’s what I picked up this week…
…and here’s what I thought of it!
BPRD: The Ectoplasmic Man: I haven’t exactly made a secret of the fact that I love the BPRD series, but whenever I read them, I’m always a little surprised at how good they are. After all, this is a comic book based around the question of what’s left when you take Hellboy out of Hellboy.
The answer? There’s still a pretty surprising amount of fun stuff to play with. Out of all the newer BPRD characters, Johann has by far the most interesting character arc–going as he does from the ghost in the weird, featureless rubber suit to getting his own body and losing himself in the pleasures of the flesh to losing it all and being confined to a balloon again–and with this issue, Mignola, Arcudi and Steinbeck do a great job of blending an origin with what we’ve already seen.
It’s set up like a deceptively simple story that reads like a ghost-heavy episode of Alfred Hitchcock Presents (because really, we know how this is going to end from the moment the demon puts the bullet on the table), but it’s the little things that really make it work, like Johann’s comments about finding the simplicity of his new body “liberating,” and it doesn’t hurt that Steinbeck’s art is just awesome. I’m not sure that I’ve ever seen his work before, but under Dave Stewart’s colors, it just sings, and the tricks that he pulls off–from the symmetrical shots of the séance guests holding hands before and after they’re killed right up to the visual throwback to The Exorcist in the last panel–just work beautifully.
If you’ve been on the fence about the BPRD stuff, this one–a one-shot with a creepy story that manages to be tense while telegraphing its ending from before it even starts–is a good place to get a feel for the series, and if you have been reading, it’s every bit as solid as the rest of ’em.
Conan the Cimmerian #0: You know, under normal circumstances, there aren’t words strong enough to describe how hard I’d be avoiding a comic book based on a poem. The only thing I can think of that I’d dodge even harder would be a comic based on, I dunno, the music of Tori Amos or something. But really, what are the odds of that ever happening?
This, however, is a special case, in that it is a comic book based on a poem by Robert E. Howard, which is then used as the backdrop for Conan to totally kill like three guys and then reminisce about his achievements in the fields of ass-kicking, wenching, and yes, wearing the occasional burlap skirt. It’s just how he rolls, and for an issue designed to get people to jump on by showing them what Conan and his homeland are all about, Tim Truman and Tomas Giorello could’ve done a heck of a lot worse.
I’ve been enjoying Truman’s work on Conan–both as writer and artist, which is a pretty rare achievement–and Giorello’s art pretty much speaks for itself, and while I’m not sure that this really necessitated a whole new series, it’s nice to have Conan back monthly. Because really, these Vanirmen were just getting out of control.
Final Crisis #2: I don’t want to get off on a weird, multi-paragraph tangent about DC’s editorial direction and the reign of nostalgia here like I did on Tuesday, so I’ll try to keep this one brief: We’re two issues in, and so far, I think Final Crisis has been pretty awesome.
Admittedly, this probably has a lot to do with my own personal affection for what Morrison’s building from with this one, but even so, there’s a lot to really like here, like the way each issue’s just packed with stuff going on. It’s the antithesis of decompression; there aren’t even establishing shots to mark scene changes, it just jumps from moment to moment in a way that sweeps the reader up and carries them along as the story keeps moving faster. It’s a storytelling motif that Morrison’s used before–the idea that time itself gets faster as it builds to a climax–and in this issue at least, he and Jones are able to do some hectic pacing without seeming sloppy or rushed.
What I don’t get–and I don’t want to be a dick here (NOTE: THIS IS A LIE)–are the people who say that it’s hard to follow or understand, because the Final Crisis that I’m reading is pretty straightforward. And I don’t mean that it’s straightforward by Grant Morrison standards, I mean that it’s straightforward by comic book standards. I’ll be the first to admit that there are a lot of references thrown in there that are rewarding for people who do get them, but in the issues we’ve seen, a meticulous knowledge of the characters isn’t all that necessary. Comics characters, after all, are based around visual shorthand to begin with, and even without a fotonote pointing you to his earlier adventures (which you oughtta read anyway), it’s not hard to figure out all you need to know about Sonny Sumo from his actions within the story.
And like I said, if you don’t know about Dan Turpin, that’s your fault. He’s in the friggin’ cartoon, fer Chrissakes.
To be fair, there’s stuff going on that hasn’t been explained, but I’m pretty sure that’s because a story is not an article, and occasionally creators like to hold some information back to build tension. Just a thought.
But anyway, suffice to say that with the second issue’s developments, I’m having a pretty good time with it.
Immortal Iron Fist #16: Now I know I have a heart… because I can feel it breaking: this issue marks the departure of Matt Fraction and David Aja from the pages of The Immortal Iron Fist. Well, not really, there’s still a special coming out in a couple months, but you know what I mean. Still, if they had to go–and I guess they did, I hear these “mu-tants” are the next big thing–it’s nice to go out on an issue as fantastic as this one.
Sure, it has the least fighting of any issue of Iron Fist that we’ve seen so far, but it’s also got fantastic character moments and the revelation that Misty Knight has the coolest damn bedroom I have ever seen. Plus, it has this, which is quite possibly the best two-word dialogue exchange ever:
Beat that, Duane Swierczynski… IF YOU DARE.
No Hero #1: Out of all the books that Warren Ellis is putting out through Avatar these days, No Hero was the one that I was the most dismissive of, but if the zero issue’s any indication, it might just be the one I end up being most interested in.
Thematically, I think it ties in a lot with what he’s doing with Black Summer, but instead of focusing on the one moment when his standard-issue team of super-heroes took a turn for the worse, it looks like No Hero‘s focusing on a slow rise and fall, from counterculture heroes to pop icons to high-profile targets. Just based on structure alone, that’s a pretty neat idea that sets it apart from the Big Science Action of his other current projects–although if the backmatter’s any indication, that’s still going to play a part–and I’ve gotta say, he does a darn good of laying out that hook in eight pages, even if the climax borders on an almost Tom and Jerry level of cartoonishness. Either way, it’s definitely worth gambling a buck to check it out.
Superman #677: You know, Jack Kirby created a lot of tough guys who wear skirts. The two big ones that everybody knows of course, are Dr. Doom and Darkseid, and while Doom has armor on underneath and can probably get away with calling it a tunic, there’s really no getting around the fact that Darkseid–who is essentially a planet-dominating Space Hitler–is rolling around in a minidress and thigh-high boots. Often overlooked, however–probably because, like Kirby’s greatest creation, he only appeared once in 1st Issue Special–was a third member of this elite club: Atlas, whose outfit consists of a miniskirt and a headscarf.
Needless to say, this is awesome and I’m totally excited about his dramatic and fashionable return, especially since it’s written by James Robinson, who, with the recent release of the Starman Omnibus, has a bigger surplus of goodwill now than at any time since the release of Comic Book Villains.
As for the story itself, it’s not bad, but I can’t shake the feeling that it could’ve had a lot more to it. The book’s called Superman after all, and as much as I like to see Superman playing fetch with Krypto in space and respect Robinson’s desire to throw the spotlight on supporting characters (in this case, the Science Police) to give a sense of perspective, both scenes feel like they drag longer than necessary, and without any reason to care other than there being a guy in a skirt tearing ass around Metropolis, Superman’s last-page arrival comes off more anticlimactic than the first issue of a run ought to be.
Still, though: Skirt and a headscarf. It’s just too daring to not give it a second chance.
Thor: Reign of Blood: This is the most metal comic book I have ever read.
And yes, I realize that I’m saying that in a week where I also bought 213 pages of Conan the Barbarian, but if Ages of Thunder was the comic for people who like Led Zeppelin III, then this is the one for guys who love Slayer. Allow me, if I may, to summarize the plot. After Odin calls her a trollop for having a four-way with the dwarves of Nidavellir, the Enchantress curses the earth with a literal, honest-to-Asgard rain of blood (from a lacerated sky), which causes every man who has ever died to walk the earth until Thor kills them all again, which he does by wrangling The Blood Colossus, only to flip out and murder a town when he finds out that they ate his horses.
Seriously. That’s what happens. And it is awesome.
Also, “wrangling the Blood Colossus” is the filthiest euphemism I have ever heard.
What If: The Fantastic Four Tribute to Mike Weiringo: So here’s the deal: Everybody needs to buy this comic.
Not just because it’s a benefit book for the Hero Initiative, although that’s a better reason to buy something than most of the stuff I get.
And it’s not even because it’s a tribute to the life and work of Mike Weiringo, one of the true great comics creators of our time, although that’s a pretty big part of it. I’ve been a fan of his since the first time I saw his work on the flash, and his death last year was not only an incredible shock, but it was a tragedy for an industry that could benefit so much from a guy with the talent and joy that showed through on every page he drew.
No, you should get this comic because it’s awesome. With a script by Jeff Parker that revisits one of my favorite stories of all time and manages to include Satanic versions of Sabretooth and Venom while still being fun and lighthearted, it’s a great read, and the artists that come together to complete it along with Weiringo’s 7 pages end up doing one of the best jam issues that I’ve ever seen. It’s a fitting tribute, but first and foremost, it’s a great, fun comic, and that just makes it a better salute to a guy whose work never failed to entertain. Pick it up and give it a read.
And that’s the week! As always, if there’s anything that caught your eye this week–like Hitler’s great “Oh Shit!” face on the cover of Mythos: Captain America or the fact that Alan Davis drew Kate Bishop in a crazy mod minidress based on Hawkeye’s crazy-ass Native American costume and how awesome that was–feel free to leave a comment. As for me, well, this Get Lost! trade is absolutely gorgeous, and it ain’t gonna read itself.
One of the things you’ll find out if you spend a lot of time in large rooms filled with comics is that you start inventing little games to make things more interesting, and while we were going through the quarter boxes at the Con, Phil and I decided to see who could come up with the Most 90s Cover Ever.
Now, it’s easy to go with the big ones, like X-Force #1, but we decided to get a little more esoteric this time out. Phil’s is up over at his site, and here’s mine:
How many reasons are there that this is the most ’90s cover of all time? Thirty-six… caliber.
But here are the main ones:
And perhaps most importantly…
Admittedly, it lacks both foil and a mullet, but I think I’ve made my case here. But if you want to get in on the action and take your shot at winning the fabulous prizes1 that come with finding the greatest representation of Dave Campbell’s favorite decade, feel free to post ’em. Ideally, they should be things that you buy specifically for this purpose (thus adding the extra challenge of telling another person “Yes, I would like to buy this issue of Brigade“), but I’m not picky.
That’s just how life is… on the edge.
1: There are no fabulous prizes.
EDIT: Kevin Wins.
I went to this year’s HeroesCon with $150 in my pocket and a mission to buy one comic book. Specifically, this one:
I left with nine dollars and didn’t have it.
That’s right: Wild Dog Special #1, which, while I’ve read it, is the only part of the Wild Dog saga that I don’t actually own. Unfortunately, the only one I could find was $2.50, and seriously, there is no way I’m paying that much for it, especially since I passed up on getting it last year for two bucks flat. It’s the principle of the thing.
Admittedly, I probably could’ve found another one, but I was busy with other stuff. And what, exactly? Well, thanks for asking, rhetorical question!
Friday began with Team Hard Ones heading out from Chad’s place for the drive up to Charlotte, rocking out to the mixtape Jay made for the first issue. One thing about my friends: We are some mixtape-makin’ mofos. The Hard Ones has a grand total of six pages in the can, and we’ve got soundtracks for at least the first three story arcs. Suffice to say that when Chad says it became a singalong to “Mama Said Knock You Out,” he’s right.
Once we were at the con itself, I found Fraction to say hi–’cause, you know, we’re best friends until the end of time and space–and then spent the rest of the day bumming around the con, shaking hands and handing out ashcans.
In addition to the guys I talked about last night, I also got the chance to say hi to Cullen Bunn and Brian Hurtt, the guys behind the great supernatural noir thriller, The Damned, and Rob Osborne, of The Nearly Infamous Zango. All three of those guys were not only really nice, but also took the time to thank me for writing good reviews about their comics, which I wouldn’t have done if their comics weren’t already, you know, really good. So that was pretty nice.
Also, at one point, a man dressed as Dashiell James pulled an ashcan out of a racing helmet and asked if I wanted to read about NASCAR Heroes, a question to which the only possible answer is “Of course!” Seriously, say what you want about the comic and how they are not very good, but that’s a sales pitch that’s hard to turn down.
After the show closed, though, the area around the Charlotte Convention Center went from hosting the industry’s most family-friendly convention to the scene of the kind of sweet-ass bacchanalia that you can only get from a crowd that’s really into the Justice League.
For my part, the evening started in the hotel room, where I mixed up a Wake-Up Call (Kahlua, Cream Liqueur, Vanilla Rum and a Starbucks Double-Shot) to recover from a long day of conventioneering and Dr. K pointed out that the actual name of that drink is something that ends in “-tini.” I told him that if I was going to make a Girl Drink, I should at least be allowed to give it a manlier name. It was then decided–and this took me, Dr. K, Chad, Trey and Jay–that by that rationale, a Strawberry Daquiri with extra whipped cream, cherries and a pineapple stick should be called a Cock Sword Machinegun Pickup Truck Volume 2: The Metal Years. Tell your friends!
After that, it was down to the bar in the hotel lobby, where I talked to Fraction about obscure Punisher characters and learned that Rick Remender (writer of Fear Agent) is probably one of the funniest people I’ve ever met. This, of course, led to gambling on the street, and that in turn led to… something that I cannot talk about. I will say this, though: You know how they say that the only things that happen after 2 AM are either legendary or horrible?
Sometimes, they’re both.
Also, at one point, Dr. K, Brandon and I walked up to Jann Jones–the DC editor in charge of their kids line and the upcoming Ambush Bug: Year None–to ask where our Showcase Presents: Sugar & Spike was. Well, that’s what Dr. K asked. My question, after she told us that it didn’t look likely, was “Well do you like money?”
But more on that in a second.
On Saturday, HeroesCon was packed, and after briefly krumping my way through an impromptu dance battle with Matt Wilson’s crew, I made time to hit up the DC Nation panel, which, with the exception of finding out that Matt Sturges was going to do a story about an outdated super-hero-themed mini-golf course in Blue Beetle, was just lousy.
Be advised, the following section contains my opinions on The Industry™ and while I’m a reader and a retailer, I’ll be the first to admit that I only know, at best, a very small part of what goes on behind the scenes, and this is really just armchair quarterbacking. So, you know, grain of salt and all that, and feel free to skip it and come back after the next picture.
Now, I don’t have the hate for Dan DiDio that you see from outraged fans who need a figurehead on which to pin their frustration over having their fan-fiction invalidated, but there are a couple of things he said that bothered me.
The first was when he said–and these are as close to his words as I can remember–that the DC characters are “bulletproof”; Batman and Superman and Wonder Woman were here before anybody working there was and they’ll be there after they’re gone, and so their job–and this, I do remember–is to act as “stewards of these great characters.”
Now, the first part of that, I have no problem with whatsoever, but it’s the bit about stewardship that sets me off. If the characters are as bulletproof as he says–and they are–then they don’t need caretakers. They need someone who’s going to take them out to the back yard and blow them up with firecrackers.
Instead, it seems like DiDio and a lot of the creators at DC are overly concerned with doing the same thing that we’ve seen again and again and again in an effort to keep things just the way they were when they were kids, and while that’s a problem in the comics industry as a whole, it’s inescapable at DC.
And when they do get someone who wants to take their indestructible toys out and have some fun with them, they end up shooting themselves in the foot in an effort to squeeze every last bit of nostalgia–and, not coincidentally, money–from the characters. If they’ve got Grant Morrison writing Final Crisis and he wants to open it with the dirty, gangland style murder of the Martian Manhunter to illustrate a more brutal wave of super-villainy with a callous disregard for life, then why do we need an oversized one-shot by Peter Tomasi that’s all about what the Martian Manhunter was doing ten minutes before he was killed?
And Death of the New Gods, which was meant, according to DiDio, to be the “last great adventure” for the New Gods before they were reintroduced three weeks later… well, let’s just go to Grant Morrison’s interview in the latest Comic Foundry for this one, shall we?
“Back in 2006, I requested a moratorium on the New Gods so that I could build up some foreboding and create anticipation for their return in a new form… instead, the characters were passed around like hepatitis B to practically every writer at DC to toy with as they pleased, which, to be honest, makes it very difficult for me to reintroduce them with any sense of novelty, mystery or grandeur.”
Another example: Infinite Crisis and Civil War. Don’t get me wrong, Civil War was not very good, but at least it’s a story, more or less. Infinite Crisis, on the other hand, is just a pointless, navel-gazing exercise in dragging things back because the average reader would rather have familiar mediocrity than forward momentum.
And that’s why you get the Groundhog Day that is the DCU. How many re-told origin stories have we gotten in the past year? How many are completely unnecessary because of books like Green Lantern: Emerald Dawn and Batman/Huntress: Cry For Blood? I mean, he opened the panel by asking us about “Batman R.I.P.,” and asked us who we’d want to see in the costume if Batman actually died. But here’s the thing: We’ve already seen what happens when Dick Grayson becomes Batman. It was called Prodigal, it was written by Chuck Dixon, and–surprise!–it was not very good. We’ve also seen what happens when a darker, edgier character becomes Batman, which was called Knightfall, which we’d already seen the first time when it was called Blind Justice, and guess what? That ain’t so great either, and the first time around, it had the advantage of being fresh.
Then again, judging by the excited crowd response when he asked who wanted to see Jason Todd as Batman, I guess the public gets the comics they deserve.
So yeah, all that from five words. It’s decompression, folks!
Second problem with DiDio: The guy just doesn’t listen.
Now this one, I don’t even really blame him for, because I’m pretty sure that if I had to listen to people asking the same questions over and over at every convention, I’d shoot someone in the face. Seriously, you can ask any question you want to the guy who runs DC Comics. You can ask for Hitman trades, you can ask if there’s any progress on that Suicide Squad Showcase, whatever you want. And instead, we got “when’s Vampire Batman coming back?” and “What’s your favorite color lantern?”
To be fair, though, there were a few good questions, like the guy who asked if James Robinson’s Justice League was going to involve Jack Knight at all, but for a lot of the questions, he just skipped over pretty relevant parts to give a very dissatisfying answer. For example, one guy asked “What’s the status of Superboy?” Clearly–clearly–this guy is asking about the legal case that prevents DC from using the character, which is a shame because there are so many great stories that could use a reprint. DiDio’s response, in total: “Still dead.”
Ditto for my question, which was this time phrased as “I’ve got two questions: First, do you like money, and if so, where’s the Sugar & Spike Showcase?”, which got us called out by Jann Jones for asking her in the bar the night before. DiDio’s explanation–which no doubt resulted from residual confusion over being asked about the current status of Arrowette–was that they weren’t going to do one, because DC is very protective of the characters and they don’t want anyone else messing with Sheldon Mayer’s creations.
Well dude, neither do I! I don’t want new stuff, I want the old stuff in an affordable reprint! And if I’m the only one, then why the heck was there a guy on Aisle 800 selling the digests for sixteen bucks a pop?!
Like I said, I don’t hate the guy, and his answers are a hell of a lot better than the ones I’d be giving if I had to deal with people who wanted Spoiler to come back to life to be their magical imaginary girlfriend, but it all added up to a pretty frustrating hour.
Huh. Didn’t mean to go all crazy like that. Suffice to say that I’m pretty sure we can all agree that the best thing to come out of the DC Nation panel was this:
A sketch of ROM by Jay Potts, artist of The Hard Ones. And I know: I was surprised I didn’t have reference material either.
Also of note on Saturday was the fact that the Charlotte Convention Center was also hosting a car show sponsored by DUB Magazine. Dr. K’s got the skinny on that–right up to the report on confiscated firearms that Chad overheard, which was my favorite part–but I’ve got to say that I really regret not just buying a Cadillac, as I could’ve easily had some D’s thrown on that bitch.
Sunday was a lot more laid back–as it usually is–and so I’d set aside that day to go after sketches, talk to people and spend the last of my cash, and I’m glad to report that I was pretty successful on all three counts.
For the sketchbook, I was able to net an absolutely gorgeous One-Punch Goldberg (from Biff Bam Pow!) by the hilarious Evan Dorkin…
…and a lot of other great ones, one of which may–may–have included OMAC riding Devil Dinosaur. Just sayin’.
I also got to talk with some of the guys from Oni Press, who were just amazingly friendly. I mean, I know I’ve said that before, but you’ve got to believe me: everyone was that nice.
They even went so far as to briefly introduce me to Chris Schweizer, who has a book called Crogan’s Vengeance that should be solicited in today’s Previews that looks like it’s going to be absolutely amazing. He also gave me a copy of his Smokers of the Marvel Universe print, which is now hanging in my office.
As for the shopping, well… I had to fill that Wild Dog shaped void in my heart somehow.
Highlights include both trades of Dr. McNinja–sadly unavailable from Diamond or Amazon–which I bought from inker Kent Archer and Freddie & Me by Mike Dawson, both of whom were nice enough to do sketches in the books. I also picked up a short stack of singles that will most likely find their way to the ISB before too long, including the issue of Josie and the Pussycats where Josie gets possessed by the Devil.
This, for those of you who were wondering, is probably the greatest comic book of all time.
So all in all–and despite the diatribe about DC that represents the most text I’ve written at one time since I dropped out of college–it was a great con and a great weekend.
Now if you’ll excuse me, this run of Punisher 2099 ain’t gonna read itself.