I wish Deathstork were real. I think it's okay to hire a pedophile for the contract I'm thinking about.
The Review!
The current story is called "Four Rooms". I'm repeating that because I don't want to just start this commentary with the following sentence and then have everybody think, "Why the fuck is Tess talking about Four Rooms?"¹ Remember how they found the corpse under the mattress in the movie Four Rooms? That may have been the first time some of you heard about that Urban Myth. I have loved Urban Myths for most of my life, especially when you learn something you thought was true was actually an Urban Myth. Some people never mature enough to realize that sometimes things get reported by actual news agencies which never actually happened and will hold on to certain beliefs for most of their lives. People don't like to acknowledge that they were foolish enough to believe false information. They will stick to their beliefs and even retrench further into their bunker when told by other people how silly the things they believe are. Some people think you shouldn't drive people into those bunkers by being aggressive with your dismissals of their false beliefs. I think the exact opposite. Drive them into their bunkers of ignorance where they will either think on the thing or just fucking hate me. If they think on the thing and eventually emerge, chagrined but grateful, I will accept them with open arms. If they choose to hate me forever and see me as a despicable, lying, monstrous piece of shit, I'll fucking accept that too. I don't have any time for people with no critical thinking skills.
Although sometimes, I just sit in my bunker and wonder why nobody is talking to me.
Oh! About Urban Myths! The first one I ever heard was the one that Mikey from the Life Cereal commercials died from eating Pop Rocks and Coke at the same time. I also remember the one where Rod Stewart collapsed on stage and had to have his stomach pumped. They found it was full of semen. Years later, a couple of the neighborhood kids who hung out at the 7-11 (who used to watch me complete Super Mario on one quarter with no warps) told me the exact same story but about Bon Jovi. I was thoroughly entertained.
I've told that story before. But what do you expect? I've written like thirty-five hundred of these things!
The current story is called "Four Rooms". I'm repeating that because I don't want to just start this commentary with the following sentence and then have everybody think, "Why the fuck is Tess talking about Four Rooms?"¹ Remember how they found the corpse under the mattress in the movie Four Rooms? That may have been the first time some of you heard about that Urban Myth. I have loved Urban Myths for most of my life, especially when you learn something you thought was true was actually an Urban Myth. Some people never mature enough to realize that sometimes things get reported by actual news agencies which never actually happened and will hold on to certain beliefs for most of their lives. People don't like to acknowledge that they were foolish enough to believe false information. They will stick to their beliefs and even retrench further into their bunker when told by other people how silly the things they believe are. Some people think you shouldn't drive people into those bunkers by being aggressive with your dismissals of their false beliefs. I think the exact opposite. Drive them into their bunkers of ignorance where they will either think on the thing or just fucking hate me. If they think on the thing and eventually emerge, chagrined but grateful, I will accept them with open arms. If they choose to hate me forever and see me as a despicable, lying, monstrous piece of shit, I'll fucking accept that too. I don't have any time for people with no critical thinking skills.
Although sometimes, I just sit in my bunker and wonder why nobody is talking to me.
Oh! About Urban Myths! The first one I ever heard was the one that Mikey from the Life Cereal commercials died from eating Pop Rocks and Coke at the same time. I also remember the one where Rod Stewart collapsed on stage and had to have his stomach pumped. They found it was full of semen. Years later, a couple of the neighborhood kids who hung out at the 7-11 (who used to watch me complete Super Mario on one quarter with no warps) told me the exact same story but about Bon Jovi. I was thoroughly entertained.
I've told that story before. But what do you expect? I've written like thirty-five hundred of these things!
Me on Facebook.
Here's a helpful hint if you want to add footnotes to your own terrible blog! If you want a superscript one, you hold down the alt key and type 0185 on the keypad. Guess how you get a superscript two? WRONG! It's alt plus 0178! You can figure out superscript three because it follows the pattern you probably thought would be a pattern starting with the one. Guess how you type superscript four? WRONG! I have no idea how to fucking type that. I usually find one online and copy and paste it. I guess you're only supposed to have three footnotes per written work.³ I suppose I could learn the HTML codes for them but that's being too rational for a paragraph that was meant to engage in some hyperbolic elements for humorous effects.
Don't you hate it when you say something in an exaggerated manner and then somebody matter-of-factly corrects you? Like when I say, "Donald Trump is an asshole!" Then somebody, probably a conservative cousin, says, "Actually he's just a human being like me or you and not a sentient anus that has removed itself from the original organism, swept some long butt-hairs across the top of its sphincterish shape, and squelched its way into the White House."
I want to amend the previous paragraph. There is no way a conservative cousin could come up with that response.
Don't you hate it when you say something in an exaggerated manner and then somebody matter-of-factly corrects you? Like when I say, "Donald Trump is an asshole!" Then somebody, probably a conservative cousin, says, "Actually he's just a human being like me or you and not a sentient anus that has removed itself from the original organism, swept some long butt-hairs across the top of its sphincterish shape, and squelched its way into the White House."
I want to amend the previous paragraph. There is no way a conservative cousin could come up with that response.
Fucking hell. This is all I've ever fucking asked for out of a Deathstork comic book! Don't make his morality easy! The reader doesn't need to feel comfortable liking him!
Popular entertainment loves to tell stories where the audience automatically knows who to root for and who to denounce. I like my characters to be more complex. I suppose there isn't any real evidence for that being that I'm still reading comic books in which complex is a dirty word.
Not that Slade Wilson killing people who might kill him makes him complex! But Deathstork writers have a history of making sure he kills the bad guys and ultimately does the right thing so that he can be seen as a hero (or, for want of a word that losers don't love, anti-hero). Killing people shooting at him is par for Deathstork's White's Only course. But killing people who are innocent victims of a genocidal war against their people because he's desperate to get paid for a job they want to stop? That's a bit to ambiguous to defend. He's adding to the misery of a people for his own pocketbook. That's the Deathstork way but no fan ever really wants to accept it. They're all such sycophantic ass-kissers.
The Room Four story ends with Slade getting a promotion to Captain and walking past Dex, the interrogator from Room Two. That's how those tie in! Anyway, Dex from Room Two explains to Slade how they have enough evidence to convict him of some political shenanigans. Right. As if something won't come up where Dex will be all, "You know what? We could use Deathstork's help right now! We won't convict! EEE!"
Meanwhile over in Room One, Jericho is learning some medical mumbo-jumbo from Doctor Villain. He's all, "Deathstork's sword is coated in Promethium! That shit is whack! Now you got super powers!"
Over in Room Three, Xia (Rose Wilson's Hmong name) meets her mother Lillian's family. She also beats the crap out of a disrespectful gang-banger and deftly fends off the advances of her cousin. Not in the usual way with a sword but just with her words. There are a lot of entertaining words in this comic book. Isn't that interesting that the best Deathstork comic book is the one with more words and conversations than bullets and corpses?
Finally, the Red Lion comes to break Slade out of prison. But first Slade has to read something about the new Flash and alternate universes to remind readers that this comic book still takes place in the same universe as all of that other boring Rebirth shit.
The Ranking!
+1!
_______________________________
¹Not that any regular reader probably ever questions why I suddenly begin discussing anything. If you do, I apologize for making my commentaries so confusing.²
²I had to make that comment a footnote since the sentence it footnotes stated "the following sentence" which would have been wrong if followed by the footnote.
³Take that, David Foster Wallace!
Not that Slade Wilson killing people who might kill him makes him complex! But Deathstork writers have a history of making sure he kills the bad guys and ultimately does the right thing so that he can be seen as a hero (or, for want of a word that losers don't love, anti-hero). Killing people shooting at him is par for Deathstork's White's Only course. But killing people who are innocent victims of a genocidal war against their people because he's desperate to get paid for a job they want to stop? That's a bit to ambiguous to defend. He's adding to the misery of a people for his own pocketbook. That's the Deathstork way but no fan ever really wants to accept it. They're all such sycophantic ass-kissers.
The Room Four story ends with Slade getting a promotion to Captain and walking past Dex, the interrogator from Room Two. That's how those tie in! Anyway, Dex from Room Two explains to Slade how they have enough evidence to convict him of some political shenanigans. Right. As if something won't come up where Dex will be all, "You know what? We could use Deathstork's help right now! We won't convict! EEE!"
Meanwhile over in Room One, Jericho is learning some medical mumbo-jumbo from Doctor Villain. He's all, "Deathstork's sword is coated in Promethium! That shit is whack! Now you got super powers!"
Over in Room Three, Xia (Rose Wilson's Hmong name) meets her mother Lillian's family. She also beats the crap out of a disrespectful gang-banger and deftly fends off the advances of her cousin. Not in the usual way with a sword but just with her words. There are a lot of entertaining words in this comic book. Isn't that interesting that the best Deathstork comic book is the one with more words and conversations than bullets and corpses?
Finally, the Red Lion comes to break Slade out of prison. But first Slade has to read something about the new Flash and alternate universes to remind readers that this comic book still takes place in the same universe as all of that other boring Rebirth shit.
The Ranking!
+1!
_______________________________
¹Not that any regular reader probably ever questions why I suddenly begin discussing anything. If you do, I apologize for making my commentaries so confusing.²
²I had to make that comment a footnote since the sentence it footnotes stated "the following sentence" which would have been wrong if followed by the footnote.
³Take that, David Foster Wallace!
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