Friday, May 9, 2014

Moon Knight #3

"M-O-C-N! That spells Moon Knight!"

My favorite thing about this comic book is that it's not filled with Narration Boxes. Fucking A! Is that a saying that adults say? Or do only overgrown man children watching sports say that saying? Anyway, Warren Ellis is a real comic book writer (that's not meant as an insult!) because he knows how to let the pictures tell the half of the story that the pictures are trying to tell. I'm sick to death of reading the out of time inner monologues of people thinking thoughts directed at an audience. Maybe that's why I hate Grifter so much! Because that's his entire schtick!

This story begins at 10 PM on some winter night in New York City (as if it would take place in any other city! This is Marvel, dumb dumbs!). As people are going about their end of the daily routines, four ghost punk rockers march into town and start moshing New Yorker's faces. I bet this is the Second Coming of the Shuteye Train!

The Shuteye Train engaging in philosophical debate. What would you die for, assholes? Just look at you.

Moon Knight pulls up in his fancy white car and jumps right into the debate. His opening point goes right past Pig Millions. Pig Millions counters with an unarguable point while Loco Dantes interrupts with a salient argument that brings Moon Knight to his knees. Eventually Reedy Weeks and Joe Kay add their voices to the mix. Moon Knight finds himself overwhelmed by their logic.

And by "logic", I mean "boots".

Moon Knight does what any crazy, sharp-dressed vigilante would due after getting his ass handed to him by a bunch of punk street philosophers. He goes back to his mansion and consults with the moldy birdman skeleton lurking in the shadows of his den. Khonshu or Horus or Harvey Deadbirdman reminds Moon Knight that his basement is full of Egyptian artifacts. Somewhere amidst the stolen treasures (even if they were "purchased", they've still been stolen from the culture that rightly should possess them), he's sure to have something that will allow him to win a street argument with a bunch of punk ghosts that think they're writers.

Moon Knight bones up on some ancient Egyptian debating techniques and hits the streets again the next night hoping to put the verbal smackdown on The Shuteye Train.

I'd watch the Presidential Debates if they were forced to dress in this kind of ritualistic regalia.

With his new bone coverings, Moon Knight is able to counter every argument the Shuteye Train throw at him. He completely picks apart Pig Millions and chases down the rest of the gang to a building that's being newly renovated.

Must be CBGB and the renovation is driving out all the zeitgeist leftover. Or the punk rock ghosts are just old men in masks trying to get the real estate for super cheap.

I think CBGB's is a high end clothing store or something now. Maybe it's a Disney Store! Whatever it was turned into, the fucking angst and anger was driven out into the streets! I didn't hear about any of this kind of shit going down though, so I guess the punk rock ghosts decided this world was fucking too late to change and just got on with dying.

Inside, Moon Knight finds four punk gang members with bullet holes in their heads slouched against the wall. He also finds a punk, long dead, sitting cross-legged with a gun in his hand and a music box near his feet. The Punk Ghosts he finds hiding inside a crack in the music box. And Moon Knight says:

I think this is some kind of statement about how punk rock failed to truly change the world because the punks could never actually let go of their nostalgic ties leftover from childhood. Or something.

Moon Knight drops the music box into the bay so that the last three punk rock ghosts could come back later. You know, after they find a new drummer.

Moon Knight #3 Rating: While reading this story, I purchased another copy of The Boomer Bible on Amazon for eighty six cents, thanks to my Amazon Credit Card Bonus Points. I believe I've given away four different copies of The Boomer Bible and have found myself without a copy for far too long now. So I ordered it. I think I read The Boomer Bible cover to cover when I was twenty five. I'd read many, many excerpts from it for a few years before that. I may not generally list it as one of my favorite books when I list favorite books (although I probably sometimes do; the list constantly changes depending on mood or which books come to mind) but it's possible it's the book that has been most influential on my character and personality (and, probably, writing). I give away copies instead of loaning them because I think everybody should have a copy of The Boomer Bible on hand. And, even though I think it's rarely done, I believe everybody should read it cover to cover. When the book gets serious, it gets fucking serious. I think if Punk Rock had a holy book, The Boomer Bible could easily be it.

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