Eee! Tess Ate Chai Tea: The Newsletter #63 (February 2026)

E!TACT! #63
Cerebus #41, Excerpts from the TTRPG Table, and Letters to Me!
By Grunion Guy


Comic Book Reviews!

Cerebus #41 (August 1982)
By Dave Sim

The Ranking
Cerebus's campaign manages to purchase a second carriage which was an issue in a previous, um, issue because the carriage was so crowded that Moon Roach kept rubbing himself against Astoria. This has enabled Cerebus to get some distance from Astoria and sneak about doing some secret deal campaigning without her notice. With Dirty Fleagle, Moon Roach, and Bran Mak Mufin in Cerebus's carriage, they spend most of their time gambling. But when they're not gambling, they're making backdoor deals with the Cirinists. Astoria wouldn't negotiate for the Cirinists' electoral votes because they wanted her off the campaign completely. But Cerebus has negotiated terms to get their votes that would keep Astoria no better than a secretary in his government. So now he's in a good place to win but Astoria doesn't realize it because she doesn't know about the extra votes. Eventually, none of this will matter because it will all come down to like one yokel's vote and that yokel might just want to fuck Julius's goat so it could be bad. Spoiler: it won't be! I think the guy hates the idea of a goat in charge.

A few other bits of intrigue take place this issue too. The "duck statue" comes back into play. Everybody seems to realize it's important but, as of yet, nobody really knows why. It was just a stupid throw away line a while back when Cerebus's ransom was never paid and instead it was replaced by statue of a duck. But the duck has been lost now and Moon Roach is searching for it because of the other bit of intrigue. Moon Roach has discovered that Astoria doesn't love him. Duh. She doesn't love anybody, bug! He thinks she loves Cerebus but she just wants the power Cerebus can bring them. Also she's fucking Dirty Drew because who isn't? Apparently he's the hottest dude in Estarcion and he really knows how to please the ladies! He doesn't even need to give them a statue of a duck.

This series would have been better if it followed Dirty Drew McGrew. Heck, 95% of the characters are more entertaining than Cerebus himself. Cerebus is a dick. Kind of like Dave is!

Dave certainly didn't mean for Cerebus to be anything like himself. He wrote Cerebus as if the character surprised him at every turn, so much so that Dave had to insert himself into the book to try to warn Cerebus about his life's direction. Dave wrote that Cerebus would die alone, unloved and unmourned. At the time, he seemed to cast that as a warning for Cerebus to change his selfish and destructive ways. But by the end, did Dave simply believe that all visionaries, prophets, and geniuses come to that end? I'm not saying Dave is alone and unloved but he isn't not super close to that position based on his professional life and what became of it. And it seems like Dave thinks he was visited by God about changing his ways too. He stopped fucking and masturbating. He dove head-first into all three Abrahamic religions of the People of the Book. As if he needed to change his ways before he was unloved and unmourned. Except Dave seemed to realize, through his movement of Cerebus toward death and ultimately Hell, that being loved and mourned was nothing compared to your soul's eternal existence. So he didn't care if people liked him or the final thirty issues of Cerebus because it was no longer about that. He had found religion (not any of the three of the People of the Book but a weird, amorphous combination of the three that he created based on his genius understanding of the texts through the eyes of a — sorry, Dave, but this is pretty accurate based on your "two 'Gods'" reading of The Bible — chauvinist. I won't go so far to say Dave's a misogynist; he reminds me more of Piers Anthony who believes the weird, sexist things he believes not through any proof of living but through some weird bending of perception happening in the brain. You know, a kind of post-'60s free love era, '70s sexism, possibly something you can only truly understand if you were there. I guess that's not true because, while I was there, I was single digits during. What would I know about sexism of the '70s other than looking at things I remember through the eyes of the older version of me and Armistead Maupin's Tales of the City books?!

Okay, I'm done thinking about Dave Sim and Cerebus now! Let's move on!

* * * * * * * * * *

Tales from the TTRPG Table

One of the aspects of Table-top Role Playing Games that I think Game Masters and Players tend to ignore is how much of our actual lives are spent as audience. When at the gaming table, players expect to participate in every moment. And why not? Where else can you rightfully have Main Character Syndrome if not at the gaming table?! But what good is a world for your players to play within if that world doesn't have depth and movement separated from their lives? As a Game Master, I believe that things should happen that the Players never actually discover. It might mean that I write ten pages for every page of game revealed to the Players but that doesn't mean that those ten other pages were wasted. They inform the story in ways the Players may never realize but they'll appreciate in how, when they discover something unexpected, that thing makes sense in the world and they can even backfill the beats and movements of other lives they weren't privy to. And sometimes I just write lengthy scenes where the Players can learn as much as they want to learn by paying attention to all that happens while they're merely set as observers. I do not write in pauses for them although they're always free to interrupt and do something stupid. So here's a two-and-a-half part scene from a Zweihander campaign I was running a few years ago. Enjoy! Maybe?

* * * * * * * * * *

Scene: Outside Customs
Mister Tinsel Lashes Out

Mister Tinsel is waiting for you as you exit The Gift Shop. He’s obviously been crying, his eyes red and puffy. “Crutches is dead.” He looks down at his feet, his hands wringing the front of his shirt, and then he looks back up at your blank expressions. “Crutches?! The Halfling guide for The Drowned?! THE DROWNED?! The new crew of explorers rescued from the shipwrecks? THE SHIPWRECKS?! The Superfluous and The Distraction?!” Having actually given you no time to react, you simply allow Mister Tinsel to vent, seeing as a friend and fellow guide has died. He sighs. “Anyway, they’re throwing a wake for him down at Liminal Spaces, if you can be bothered.” He turns and marches toward the bar.

Scene: Inside Liminal Spaces, Orcas' bar
A Wake for Crutches

Liminal Spaces is standing room only as you shove your way in. Orcas waves you over to the bar, pointing to a line of shots on the counter. You push your way past Foros and Bera, holding hands and looking sad standing in the back of the room. Three gnomes in orange jumpsuits and green helmets scurry through your party as they weave their way to the front of the bar where a large crate has been overturned as a makeshift stage. You even notice a couple of Empire Soldiers in attendance. You’re aware of how much of an impact Crutches made on these people even if you barely knew he existed. Even Foros and Bera wouldn’t have known him well; they’ve simply been overwhelmed by the somber atmosphere.

You get to the bar and Orcas hands everybody a shot. “It’s not much, just a little backroom brew I’ve been working on. You know. For occasions like this.” She picks up a glass and downs a shot herself, hissing at the vileness of it. “For all our sakes, hopefully this doesn’t become too common. At least not until I can perfect this recipe.”

Everybody from every group is here drinking and laughing, some crying, with the notable exception of the Bookhouse Boys (not that you’d recognize any of them). Warburton sits up front against the wall behind the crate, facing the crowd. The new pudgy guy sits on a cot in the corner observing it all, and occasionally writing in a journal in his lap. A large brutish man you’ve never seen before stands in the dark corner. His face is covered in a large, scraggly beard and his long wiry hair is held back in a ponytail. He wears bronze armor and carries a Gladius on his hip over a leather skirt. His eyes glint in the dark like those of an animal.

[The man in the corner is Gorf, Consoler of First Fallen, and one of the five Higher-Ups for The Lantern Society. Even though others have fallen on the Island before, Gorf senses this is the first actual casualty for what has become a complete army exploring this island. These are the brothers and sisters who will fight to save the world.]

Warburton stands up and climbs shakily onto the box. “Thanks for coming, everybody.” Cheers and toasts fill the room with a smattering of people yelling, “To Crutches!” Warburton waits for the room to grow silent and says, “I never know what to say when this happens. And I sort of don’t want to turn this into some kind of inspirational rally to fight for good and live life to its fullest. It just fucking sucks. Other than to celebrate Crutches’ life and get fall down drunk doing so, we’re also here because one of the Higher-Ups, Gorf, wanted to say something. And, well, who am I to refuse Gorf?”

“WHO IS ANYONE TO REFUSE GORF?!” booms the man in the corner as he bends his knees, grips his Gladius, and scans the room.

Warburton’s frown breaks and she laughs. “Okay, calm the fuck down, Gorf. Oh. Um, sorry for my continued informality everybody. Anyway, here’s Gorf.”

The large man steps forward, looks down at the crate, and smashes it beneath his foot as he puts his weight on it. He shakes the broken crate until his foot is free and then looks out at the crowd. “I AM GORF,” he states in what's apparently his normal voice but would be a shout coming out of anybody else. He is quite large. “I AM CONSOLER OF THE FIRST FALLEN AND THOUGH WE HAVE LOST OTHERS BEFORE THIS, CRUTCHES IS THE FIRST OF OUR ARMY TO FALL SINCE WE HAVE BECOME THE FAMILY WE WERE ALWAYS MEANT TO BE. WE ARE ALL HERE. IF NOT IN THIS ROOM, SOMEWHERE ON THE ISLAND. I SENSE US ALL. FINALLY. AND WE, ALL OF US, ARE AT WAR WITH FORCES THAT WOULD TAKE EVERYTHING: POSSESSIONS, LAND, LIFE, TIME, EXISTENCE. THOSE IN THIS ROOM HAVE BEEN CHOSEN TO STOP THIS FROM HAPPENING. WE DON’T KNOW HOW IT WILL HAPPEN OR IF ANY OF US WILL, TRAGICALLY, PLAY A PART. BUT WE MUST FIGHT AGAINST ITS HAPPENING WITH ALL OF OUR STRENGTH, WILL, AND DETERMINATION. WITH THE DEATH OF CRUTCHES, OUR ENEMY HAS DRAWN FIRST BLOOD.”

Orcas leans over and whispers to you all, “Crutches died falling in a sinkhole.”

“BUT WE WILL DRAW SECOND BLOOD! AND THEY WILL FIND NEED FOR THEIR CONSOLER OF THE FIRST FALLEN, WHATEVER BESOTTED AND VILE DEMON THAT MIGHT BE! SURELY MY OPPOSITE, UGLY AND LOATHSOME TO LOOK UPON! IN THE FINAL BATTLE, I WILL BE SURE TO SMITE HIM! SO IN CRUTCHES’ NAME, I SAY, “TO WAR!”” When Gorf says “To War!”, he actually does shout and it leaves everybody’s ears ringing. He steps back into the shadows in the corner.

Warburton steps up, looks at the ruined crate, and shrugs. “Well, I said we weren’t going to make this some inspirational speech relying on the death of Crutches but I guess Gorf here didn’t get the memo.”

“THERE WAS NO MEMO, HARLOT!”

“By the Empress. Sorry about that. Let’s just keep Crutches in our memory. He was a good kid with a bad leg. Drink up, I guess.”

Warburton heads into the crowd and begins speaking with Hips and Flaming Willy.

[Let the party mingle. If they stay for any length of time, the following will play out.]

Scene: Liminal Spaces, after the Wake
Tim Receives a Prophetic Nickname

“Excuse me! Excuse me! I know most of you don’t know me. My name is Tim. I’m a poet. Your little orange and green gnomes pulled me from my hiding place a few days back, dehydrated and on the brink of death. So this place saved me. And I wanted to express my gratitude with a poem, if you don’t mind.”

“This outta be jolly,” barks Imhol from where he was sat at a table with a mug of ale in each hand.

“Yeah, gives us your poem, Jolly!” shouts Vyach sitting next to Imhol, either thinking Imhol was calling the man by name or simply deciding a quick nickname was in order.

“Okay.” Tim pulls out his journal and flips it open. A strange pen falls out and clatters to his feet. He clears his throat and says, “This is called Poem. Um, all my poems are called Poem. Um, anyway, it goes like this.

"The first time I saw you, I thought, “Goy! That’s a little fella!”
Then you limped to the bar and I chuckled.
Probably inappropriately. But, you know, laughing is like a fart sometimes.
It won’t be held in.
You saw me chuckling and you grinned, turning back to the bar,
And ordering another mug.
Which you brought to me.
Like an old friend.”

Tim closes the journal. “Um, thanks for listening.” Vyach stands and applauds enthusiastically, “Thanks, Jolly!” You feel as if Vyach is actually applauding himself for coming up with the guy’s nickname.

* * * * * * * * * *


Letters to Me!

Stella Saide Writes: REAL AND HONEST LOVE SPELL CASTER. I don’t really know how to thank Priest Guba, enough for what he has done for me. My husband left me and went back to his mistress for months. If not for the intervention of Priest Guba, I wouldn't have gotten back my husband. His powerful reunion love spell brought back my husband. I doubted him at the beginning but I realized without faith nothing Is possible. Thank God today I am among the people who testify about Priest Guba, for his good work that restored peace back to my marriage.

My Reply: Unless your husband killed himself following his dead mistress into the afterlife and Priest Guba brought him back to life, I think you might be making a huge mistake thanking that guy. Who wants a lousy husband that treats you like that? Forget Priest Guba! You should gone to Tony the Butcher! Or Isabella "Emasculation" Quintana. Also, you might be confused about "faith" if you're thanking a "real and honest spell caster." I think magic is different than miracles in some way. Or have I been wrong my entire life and hypnotists are using the power of God to make people act like chickens? Also why did you capitalize "Is"? That's a weird choice. Please ask Priest Guba if he can resurrect cats for me. I know some people prescribe to the tenet "Sometimes, dead is better" but I'd like to give it a try anyway. Thanks!

* * * * * * * * * *

Later, jerkos!

Timber Wolf #2 (December 1992)

Timber Wolf #2 (December 1992)
By Al Gordon, Joe Phillips, Bob Pinaha, and Tom McCraw
Cover by Joe Phillips and Al Gordon
Edited by Eddie Berganza and KC Carlson

Timber Wolf (Timby to his friends) has an anger problem. I don't know if he had an anger problem before Aria transformed him into the werewolf he is now and transported him to the 20th Century. It seems that before this mini-series, he was not a full blown werewolf. I don't know. Maybe he was? I think he was just a skinny little emo twat who had extra fast reflexes and extra strength from his father shooting him up with Zoon beams. But that's all boring standard Legion fare so he needed a cool Wolverine/Lobo update for the '90s! Now he's angry and vicious and has a huge cock. You can argue about the cock but if you were a horny twelve year old who's halfway to becoming God and you transformed the only guy you were hanging out with, wouldn't you make his cock massive?

Aside from having to learn to live with a floppy gourd between his legs, Timber Wolf also has to learn to get along with Lobo's bastard son, the half-Durlan Thrust. Lobo's wanted for about a billion crimes across the galaxy but naming his son Thrust might be the grossest thing he's ever done. I love Lobo and my eyes keep trying to look at him sideways over that name. Thrust is kind of a pussy but that's because his mother was a Durlan. That means he's a shapechanger and if you were a horny young male who had the power to shapechange, wouldn't you try changing into a pussy every now and then? I'm pretty sure if I were a Durlan, I would have invented the fleshlight. I mean my left hand would have constantly been a pussy. Maybe a mouth sometimes. Oh! And a butthole!

Thrust and Timber Wolf have gone off on their own to search for Aria because they're bad boys who don't follow the rules. Their first stop: a bar called The Gene Pool where newly created supers hang out. That's because Captain Flag is there and the only clue they have is that he's involved with Aria's disappearance somehow.

Thrust drinks soda and gets horny over feet. No wonder Lobo doesn't want anything to do with him.

Captain Flag makes himself known on the next page by throwing Thrust through the front window. Captain Flag's costume consists of an American eagle codpiece and some other stuff I can't describe because I just kept staring at the codpiece. It's massive!

Ew. I don't know what the third thing he smells is yet but it's almost certainly something that's going to make me retch.

I'm not going to reveal what the third thing Timby smells is because it's too gross even for one of my comic book commentaries. All I'll say is that it's a smell that I can't seem to get out of my sheets.

The battle lasts for the rest of the issue because Al Gordon isn't just a writer; he's an artist! Of course he's going to write a comic book that's mostly big battles and sexy butts! Captain Flag gets away but not before Timber Wolf smelled a fourth smell on him: Aria!

See that expression? He is Lobo's kid!

In the end, we discover that Aria was kidnapped by a Dominator who's also controlling the head of Point Force. Not Jesse! The other guy whose name I don't know. And I'll never know it because I don't own Issue #3 and I'll never re-read the first two issues again to figure it out! Oh well. I hope Thrust went on to live a happy life full of soda pop and sexy feet because I don't think he really made much of an impact past this mini-series. He did make it into the version of the DC Who's Who that was perforated pages with holes punched down the side to stick in a binder. I definitely have his page but I'd have to dig it out. Maybe when I get around to continuing my series on Who's Who entries!

The Ranking!
It had a really nice lady ass, a guy mimicking a Lobo expression, and a guy with a massive American eagle codpiece. What more could you want out of a comic book? Oh, that's right. Having it not be based around Legion of Super-heroes characters! Oh, come on! Don't get upset with me, Legion fans! I'm just an ignorant asshole who never read Legion at that time of my life where I would have been completely sucked into their teenage horned-up drama! My adolescent Legion of Super-heroes was Degrassi Junior High! The original, baby! I remember when they began The Next Generation. Man, I was so annoyed by it. I was all, "Look at how good looking all the actors are! This isn't like real life at all! So stupid! The original had boys and girls whose level of attractiveness was all over the place, mostly the lower place (minus, you know, Caitlin Ryan. Rrrrow!). But then I discovered that the main character was little Emma, Spike's daughter, and I was all, "What the fuck?! Spike is in this?! And she's with Snake?! There's continuity with the original!" And then I watched it and fell in love with it as well. Especially because Caitlin was in it!

Timber Wolf #1 (November 1992)

Timber Wolf #1 (November 1992)
By Al Gordon, Joe Phillips, John Workman Jr, and Tom McCraw
Cover by Joe Phillips
Edited by Michael Eury

The Cover
The logo, like the werewolf, is trying way too hard. Look at how dynamic it is! With all the jagged lines, blaring red borders, and crazy long ends! It's like if an infected wolf gouge were a logo! That's probably what they were going for, right? So I get the concept. But it's — and this is a technical term used by the better art critics — fucking garbage. Also the werewolf, like the logo, is coming on too strong. He's all, "Hey, buddy! I asked you if you had a cigarette." And I scream "I don't have one!" as I cower and piss myself. Then he's all, "I saw you smoking one last week!" And I whimper, "I think it was cold. That was just my breath!" Then I have to suck his dick to calm him down but I forget that some of my fillings are silver and his lycanthropic penis breaks out into huge blisters and he's all, "You just gave me herpes!" Also now I'm a werewolf because I swallowed a little pre-cum.

So anyway, that's what the cover says to me. Maybe that says less about the cover and more about my werewolf fetish.

The Story
I've never been a Legion of Super-heroes reader. I don't even know if it's "Super-heroes" or "Superheroes" or "Stupid-zeroes". The only time I ever read it was during The New 52 when I had to because I was reading everything (I know, I know. "I had to" isn't the load bearing wall I'm pretending it is. A load of Superboy fans on tumblr never could understand why I kept reading that shit). So it's a mystery — other than my werewolf fetish — why I purchased this comic book. I also purchased the second issue. But I must have been sexually satisfied after that because I decided not to buy the final three issues of the mini-series. Hopefully it's just as terrible as I'm assuming it's going to be or I'm going to be dying to find out what happens! I mean that literally. I will buy the last three issues only over my dying and/or dead body.

I'd also like to state before going any further: Seth Green nearly destroyed my werewolf fetish. Gross. Not interested. Sorry, Seth! It's not meant as a personal insult. I just need a big bulky furry snarl-bro looming over me and not a yippy little motherfucker I can hold back with one hand as I unsuccessfully try to get my limp dick hard.

Okay, you know what? That did sound personal. Sorry again!

Wait a second. Did Lobo have a kid already back in 1992?!

I don't know who this Thrust character is but I suspected he was Lobo's kid from this first panel. A page or two later, he says "Frag" and he casually mentions how his "father doesn't work that way" when trying to figure out why Timber Wolf, obviously from the far reaches of space (if not time) due to speaking Interlac, was Earth. You don't have a character with space clown make-up on one eye say "frag" and then mention their father without knowing that every Lobo-lover reading the book will jump to that conclusion. It also makes sense that Lobo's daughter is called Crush when we realize his son was named Thrust. Does he name all of his kids while he's in the middle of creating them?

Apparently this series spun-off from Legion of Super-Heroes Annual #3 which makes it an even bigger mystery as to why I purchased this comic book. No, wait, we already settled that. The fetish.

Oh shit. Maybe I picked this up because I'd heard the rumor that Lobo's son appeared in Legion of Super-Heroes Annual #3 and this spun-off from that?! That would make sense if I owned Legion of Super-Heroes Annual #3. But I don't. So, never mind. Back to the fetish.

Jackass?! Now hold on a minute!

The "you're father is a piece of shit" jokes continue for a few more pages because, I guess, Lobo, even when unnamed, is way more entertaining than any characters from Legion of Super-Heroes. I probably stopped reading this book after two issues because you really need to have read the annual that led to this and probably need to know at least one or two things about the history of the Legion of Super-Heroes. The only thing I know by page 9 is that Thrust is Lobo's son, everybody thinks Lobo is a fucking joke, and Aria, Timber Wolf's companion, has a great ass.

No thanks.

Since Aria doesn't want to live a life on the run in 20th Century Earth, she convinces Timber Wolf to surrender to Thrust and his pal, Jesse. They're with a secret government organization that isn't Task Force X or Checkmate or Argus or the Department of Extranormal Operations. They run a task force called "Point Force". Jesse gets clearance to invite Timber Wolf to the team but I'm not sure it includes the woman with the terrific ass.

Um, I mean, uh, the twelve year old girl in a woman's body with the ass I've become super uncomfortable around now? Christ, DC Comics. Why the fuck do you have to keep up-aging girls and boys into super attractive adults?! No wonder Gerard Jones was so interested in working for y'all!

As Timber Wolf's about ready to join the team, he learns that Aria has been kidnapped from Jesse's office. So instead of joining, he beats the crap out of everybody within arm's reach. The whole misunderstanding leads to Jesse taking a plasma bolt in the shoulder to protect Timber Wolf so that Timber Wolf can trust him and join Point Force. So most of this issue was composed of fight scenes to set up the foundation of the series: Timber Wolf has settled in with a team comprised of Lobo's son and some other mysterious heroes not yet introduced. And the point of it all? To rescue Aria who was kidnapped right out from under their noses. So this entire mini-series could have been avoided if Timber Wolf and Aria had just decided to remain on the run instead of shacking up with this hillbilly Suicide Squad.

The issue ends on the reveal of, I guess, another team member: Captain Flag.

Yeesh. I really had forgotten how influential Lobo really was in 1992.

Captain Flag really is just Lobo with an American patriot reskin. So gross!

The Ranking!
I can't say it wasn't entertaining. It was a quick read due to over half of it being fight scenes. And I learned about Lobo's kid Thrust! How come that didn't stick in my memory? Was I too dimwitted at 21 to understand they were talking about Lobo? Did I even read this comic book back then? That's a possibility and explains why I only purchased two issues. By the time the third came out, I'd realized I hadn't read the first two off my stack and just gave up on it. Or I could have been saving them to read after all five came out but had forgotten the series existed by the time the third issue hit the shelves. Now if only Lobo had appeared in it, I would have several copies of every issue!

I want to fuck Lobo so bad!

Eclipso: The Darkness Within: Action Comics Annual #4 (July 1992)

I'm sure Superman's mouth is full of milk and not Billy Batson's spunk.

Eclipso: The Darkness Within: Action Comics Annual #4 (July 1992)
By Dan Vado, Chris Wozniak, Karl Altstaetter, Karl Kesel, Trevor Scott, Steve Mitchell, Albert De Guzman, and Matt Hollingsworth
Cover by Joe Quesada and Jimmy Palmiotti
Edited by Dan Thorsland and Mike Carlin

The Cover
Being an art critic is so far beyond my capabilities that I'm completely stymied by the color palette. I guess there's an abundance of purple to indicate the Eclipso possession. But why the lime green background? Maybe they're fighting in a jelly mold? I do appreciate how Superman's muscles were drawn thick with sexy veins while Billy Batson retains his "I'm from a totally different comic book company universe and actually a child in a thick, veiny man's body" flat, clear, animation-style facial features. At least the sticky white residue in Superman's mouth has kept me from pondering how he's been Eclipsed being that he's full of sunlight and Eclipso's one weakness is sunlight and also he's full of somebody's semen. Not Billy's because that would be too wrong to even consider. I guess Superman's possession was pre-explained earlier when Eclipso pointed out how his power is magical in nature and we all know how susceptible Superman is to magic for some reason. Maybe they didn't have magic on Krypton? Man. Imagine a world without close-up magicians approaching your table during dinner? What a dream!

The Story So Far
A bunch of loser super heroes have been Eclipsed because they're losers. Yes, I know Wally West was Eclipsed. The king of losers. I didn't even like Barry Allen but Wally? What a piece of shit. All of you assholes who just love Wally West to death are fucking wrong. I mean, sure, I never read Flash so it's possible I'm wrong. Not likely but possible! I only know Wally West from Justice League Europe and that guy was a fucking idiotic sex pest who shouldn't have been allowed around women. The fact Power Girl never ripped his balls off is testament to how much power the Comics Code Authority had.

Also some people have started to go missing without being Eclipsed and we have to assume that Bruce Gordon has gone Ozymandias style. Bruce Gordon is missing and so is Blue Beetle. My guess is he's grabbing up all the heroes capable of making a gigantic fake sun to shine into the crater on the moon since the real sun isn't cutting the mustard. Stupid sun. Can't even shine into a fucking crater on the side of the moon that bare asses itself to it at least once a month. I don't know how space works so I'm assuming that's how often that happens.

The Story
Since Bruce, Mona, and Blue Beetle are all missing or Eclipsed, Superman and Fire's butt have gone to recruit Mona's dad for some reason. I guess he's also a solar scientist? Is that how Bruce and Mona met? Do I even care?

Even Mona's dad doesn't give a shit and it's his world that's in danger.

Every time I type "Mona's dad", I can't help thinking "Anna Madrigal". Stupid brain! You're a man and a girl!

Superman decides to leave this man alone which is great because who the fuck is he? Why is he suddenly a character in this story?! I barely know why Mona and Bruce Gordon are in this story let alone Anna Madrigal! I mean Mona's dad! Does he piss sunshine? Does he fart solar radiation? One fact about him: he's clinically depressed. At first I thought Booster was just exaggerating but Chris Wozniak made sure to draw a bottle of pills in the background of one panel. Plus that shot of him lying in bed with his knee up and his arm thrown over his face? Classic depression pose!

Booster talks like a eugenicist and Booster is from DC's future so, um, guess what, everybody? The racists apparently won!

I don't know if Booster means "them" as in academics or as in people with no powers or what but since Booster Gold is a working class guy whose whole schtick is based on stealing his gear, I suspect it's both? He's what rich racist elite Republicans would call a "real American". Which totally explains why he's also a sexist creep (as seen in the Eclipso: The Darkness Within: Justice League America Annual and pretty much every other Justice League America issue).

Superman's plan to save Mona and the people of Crater Bay (who were all Eclipsed in whatever series the last Superman annual was in. Man of Steel? Superman? Adventures of Superman?) is to give himself to Eclipso in exchange for freeing the regular people who always let Booster Gold down. Then it's up to the Justice League to stop Superman from doing whatever Eclipso wants to do with him. It seems like a bad plan in a number of ways but the worst way is that Superman must not remember the current roster of Justice League America. Who the fuck's going to stop him? Ice? Fire? Bloodwynd? Blue Beetle? Booster Gold? Doesn't he remember these are the people who couldn't even stop Doomsday from killing him? Oh wait. I guess he hasn't learned that lesson yet.

Obviously the plan would be to call Batman and borrow his Kryptonite. But since that plan is too obviously obvious, I guess they'll drag Billy Batson out of class and remind him that he's an alternate member of the League.

Did Wozniak model this shot of Superman off the Thanksgiving Day Parade float of Supes?

I'm never going to get through a full annual if I keep scrutinizing every panel but I'm glad I am because I just noticed this tiny figure of Booster Gold in the background. You know how Booster Gold usually has no indication of genitalia? Well, well, my friends. Discover the truth!

Booster Gold has a massive schlong.

Booster Gold, Fire, and Ice decide they'd better find a way to defeat Superman before he gets himself Eclipsed for the good of a few dozen yokels (and Mona). Clark's an idiot! He might be able to negotiate a deal to save a few people for a little while. But at what cost? No, his best bet is to stay unEclipsed and help Crater Bay by defeating Eclipso. Why's he acting so dumb?!

Look, that was a rhetorical question. I know why he's acting so dumb: Dan Vado is writing this.

We, the readers, being smarter than Booster Gold, Fire, and Ice combined, know that they should contact Batman and get his help. Instead, they decide to ask Hairy Lex Luthor for some advice. He and his team have developed a Solar Trap based on Bruce Gordon's solar work. But he's not sure it will work because, um, Dan Vado is writing this, I guess? Is this the the short period of time when Lex Luthor was trying to act humble because he was supposed to be his own Australian son and he didn't want anybody realizing it by whipping out his brain-dick every time he was asked to help solve a problem? Now he's all, "Man, having hair really mellows a guy out! I'm barely angry anymore! Chicks want to fuck me and I can finally masturbate again without fear that my bionic hand will rip my manhood off!" I suppose Angry Lex could have built a solar trap that definitely works but Angry Lex was also always stressed out and screaming at people. Chill Lex can barely fucking care because he's thinking about all the puss that's going to be on his face later.

Ice contacted my dick. Did that joke work? Did it make sense? Fuck it, I'm with Chill Lex now. Who cares if shit works when you've got puss on your face!

And what I mean by puss on my face is, um, cookie crumbs. They're fucking everywhere! I probably shouldn't have learned to eat cookies from Cookie Monster.

Night falls on Crater Bay and Superman heads over to throw his (and everybody on Earth's) life away. Superman doesn't even make sure Eclipso lets the hostages go before he picks up the Black Diamond and tries to get angry. What the fuck? The whole point is to save people? Why would Eclipso let them go if Superman becomes Eclipsed first? Like I said, Clark's an idiot.

It's possible Superman's learned enough about the Black Diamond to get mad at Eclipso so that when he turns, he'll have to beat the shit out of Eclipso before Eclipso can manipulate him. But probably not because I've still got a whole pile of The Darkness Within annuals to get through. And the last Superman one has Superman Eclipsed on the cover fighting Guy Gardner and Lobo at the same time. I know! I came directly into my pants when I saw that!

Superman becomes Eclipsed but we never find out what made him so angry because Eclipso just starts manipulating him immediately. Did Dan Vado not read his editorial notes for the story? It's probably because . . . no, no. You know what? Dan Vado founded the Alternative Press Expo so I'm going to give him a free pass on this. It was probably editorial's fault anyway. I'm sure Vado was all, "Yeah but in all the other stories, the character had to enact vengeance on the thing that made them mad before Eclipso could properly control them?" And Editorial was all, "Shut up, Dan Vado. Did you read the Flash Annual? He didn't enact vengeance on anybody, did he?" And Dan Vado was all, "I don't know because I didn't read it. It hasn't been published yet. Nobody sent me the script." And Editorial was all, "You think you're so smart, don't you, Dan Vado? Well just make Superman angry and Eclipsed and we'll worry about any inconsistencies!"

Also, I'm only on page 17 so any "inconsistencies" will probably be explained away and I'll feel stupid for making this stink. Anyway, did I mention that even though Chris Wozniak has been drawing a fucking awful Superman, he does a cute Ice?

You know I think she's cute because I bypassed a dozen panels of Fire's ass to scan this panel.

It's possible Ice is cute here because the inker has changed between the terrible Superman panels and this panel. It's hard to tell because what the fuck do I know about how an inker's style changes a penciller's style?! I told you right at the beginning that I'm not an art critic! Besides, there are like eighteen inkers credited for this thing!

Meanwhile, during a scene that I'm positive was going to end in Lex Luthor and Professor Emil Hamilton fucking, Bruce Gordon's Ozymandias Plan claims two more victims. You know, the two who were definitely about to fuck: Emil and Lex.

Back in Crater Bay, Captain Marvel arrives to scold Superman and also hit him a lot. "Hey man! Golly Gee Whiz, dude! Why you being so gosh-darned mean?" They beat each other senseless for many, many pages. Neither one seems to have the upper hand even if Captain Marvel's power stems from magic and, well, that's Superman's main weakness! I guess the magic that makes Billy strong and invincible doesn't mean the strength itself is magical. At one point during the fight, I'm convinced that Captain Marvel is just Martian Manhunter disguised as Captain Marvel because, um, why would fire hurt Captain Marvel?

Is he just pretending the flames hurt so the reader feels a little bit of drama and tension during this pretty spectacularly boring battle?

The only reason I knew this couldn't be Martian Manhunter is because Martian Manhunter is pretending to be Bloodwynd right now. He's too busy to pretend to be other people.

By page 35, I begin wishing instead of discussing the story, I just went through and scanned pictures of Ice and Fire's asses. Because, oh boy, are there a lot of panels highlighting them!

I've got a pretty good idea for a coffee table book!

Yeah. I stopped caring about the story and just began scanning butts. Fucking sue me.

The Ranking!
Luthor and Hamilton's solar trap works but overheats almost immediately. So everybody in Crater Bay is saved but Superman manages to get away. And Mona is nowhere to be found. On the plus side, did you see all of those butts? I'm sure there's a moon joke to be made here but I'm way too horny to think of it. I think I just figured out what's in Superman's mouth on the cover. It's my own dried semen from 34 years ago!

Eee! Tess Ate Chai Tea: The Newsletter #21 (Fourth Week of April 2018)

E!TACT! #21
Jesse Chris: A Grunion Guy Story, Eternity Girl #2, New Super-man #22, Detective Comics #978, Suicide Squad #39, Justice League of America #28, Action Comics #1000, Kick-Ass #3, Deadman #6, Grunion Guy's Musical Corner of Music Reviews, and Letters to Me!
By Grunion Guy


Jesse Chris
A Grunion Guy Story
By Grunion Guy

         "You guys are the greatest," proclaimed Jesse as he flipped his long blonde surfer's hair around his head in slow motion. "Who could ask for a better bunch of twelve male friends! So rad!"
         Jeremy Scaredycat looked askance and turned red. Everybody thought he was blushing because he loved Jesse so much. But he didn't love Jesse as much as he used to love Jesse. He loved Surf Country and hated Valleys way more than he now loved Jesse. Like thirty bucks more even.
         "Hey Jesse," devil's advocated Jeremy. I mean, he was about to devil's advocate. He was actually just getting Jesse's attention in the last quote. Also he believed his argument so maybe he was just the devil. But he didn't want people to know that he believed his argument so he was pretending to just be an advocate. "We should spray paint 'Valleys go home' all over the place because I'm tired of my shoulders being ridden over."
          "Oh, Jeremy," patronized Jesse in that way everybody but Jeremy loved. Simeon and Jacob and Terence and Sebastian and Philip and the other ones all loved it when Jesse looked at them like they were Italian dogs being told to roll over in French. "Render unto Brad what is Brad's. Duh!"
         "That doesn't make any sense, Jesse," replied Jeremy to the audible gasps of the other eight men at the table. I mean ten? Maybe some of them didn't gasp because their mouths were full of Jesse. You'll understand what that means after the next paragraph! "The waves aren't for Valleys! They're our waves!"
         "Oh, Jeremy," Jesse continued in that patronizing way. "This rad pizza is my tubular flesh. And the Mountain Dew is my blood, Brah. Duh!"
         After throwing up, seven of Jesse's friends said, "We totally understand why you said that!" They looked dumbly at Jesse like a French dog being told to roll over in Italian.
          "Man, this is my last dinner with you jerks!" cried Jeremy as he thought about how much non-Jesse's-flesh pizza he could buy with thirty bucks.
          "Well, why don't you leave the tip, what with all that thirty money you have," scowled Jesse but in a righteous way. "And Terence can deny having ordered the appetizers!"
          "What?! Why would you say that?" asked Terence. "And I didn't order them!"
          "Oh my goodness! How did he know you'd say that?!" cried Sebastian! "It's a miracle!"
         "He knew I'd say it because I didn't order them!" denied Terence.
          "Are you sure?" asked Philip.
          "Of course I'm sure I didn't order them! My stomach can't handle all that cheese!" denied Terence again.
          "Oh, to hell with this!" exclaimed Jeremy. "That's him! That one! The one in the Pacific Beach t-shirt!" Several Valleys rushed in to grab Jesse.
          "I got him!" yelled Brad!
         "Me too!" yelled Brad! It was a different Brad from the Valley than that first Brad from the Valley.
         "Oh no!" screamed eleven friends of Jesse! "Let's challenge them to a surfing contest!"
          "Put away your boards!" exclaimed Jesse as he winked at the camera. Later he surfed for everybody's sins. That was the exciting part. But the important part was that he made it through the tube three days later as all the bikini-clad onlookers watched in shock and amazement. Everybody always remembered him forever after that, especially the way he hated gay people.

The End!


Comic Book Reviews!

Eternity Girl #2
By Visaggio, Liew, and Chuckry

Rating: One of my favorite things in the world after Oreos are writers who tell people how to write. It's always so informative for people who think they want to be writers but aren't actually writers. Because if you're a writer, you write. If you're a person who wants to be a writer, you ask writers what it takes to be a writer. Luckily for my love of writers who give writing advice, Magdalene Visaggio (the writer of Eternity Girl!) drops some knowledge on us at the end of this issue: "[W]riting is about saying yes more than it is about saying no. Don't let your fear that your stuff isn't good enough stop you from listening to your instincts. You don't have to be a genius right when you start; spend time writing and figuring out what kind of writer you want to be, and then you'll know what ideas work and don't for what you are doing."

Let's see. I definitely say yes more than I say no, as people (for example, all editors) who constantly criticize my writing will attest. I definitely wasn't a genius when I started out (and have no expectation that I'm somehow growing into a genius the further along I go). I have spent time writing but I don't think I've spent enough time figuring out what kind of writer I want to be! Is that how writing is done? Am I supposed to have an image of me on the back cover of my first novel and write toward that? I want to be one of those guys smoking a pipe and banging tons of ladies. What's a look that says "I bang a ton of ladies!" since I don't think publishers actually let you stick a photograph of you banging a ton of ladies right on the back cover of your novel. And finally, I'm not sure if I'm following the advice of that last sentence because I'm still trying to parse it.

One more great piece of advice from Magdalene: "Live fearlessly, and honestly; this is the only life you get." That's pretty profound when you think about it. I mean, seriously. Think about it! Have you ever considered that you only have one life? I bet you haven't or else you'd be spending it smoking pipes and banging tons of chicks and/or dudes! If you aren't puffing away on a pipe right now feeling superior, you're wasting your life!

In my early twenties, I had that only life you get epiphany and stupidly told my current girlfriend. She, understanding my mind better than I did at the time, said, "What the hell is that supposed to mean?" I thought it was obvious but I was apparently wrong because she saw my epiphany better than I did! Obviously what my mind was telling me in its stupidly grandiose way was this: "You probably need to break up with your current girlfriend." My mind was right but I was a naïve asshole who probably gave people writing advice and definitely shouldn't have told my girlfriend that thing that was basically code for "I need a new direction in life and some space and really need to change some things, especially one big relationship thing!"

I should probably review this comic book now. I'm not sure how I feel about this series after this issue. I liked the first issue but this one was just depressing. I'm starting to see how a book about a main character desperate to die can be a bit of a downer. The commentary on comic book continuity didn't help to make me feel any better by thinking, "Whoa! Was that post-modern? I think that was post-modern? What is post-modernity anyway? Is asking that post-modern?!"

Two point six out of five stars.


New Super-man and the Justice League of China #22
By Yang, Peeples, Santorelli, and Hi-fi

Rating: This comic book is less fun than it used to be. Three point one stars out of six.


Detective Comics #978
By Tynion IV, Fernandez, and Kalisz

Rating: You might remember how I said I was going to stop picking up this book because I hate typing the IV on Tynion's name, right? Well I did it! I took it off of my subscription box at the local comic book store! But I still have a couple of issues to read in the stack. This is one of them. I haven't read it yet but ignorance has never stopped me from reviewing a comic book. I'm sure this one is as mediocre and Tim Drake heavy as the previous dozen. Two point seven stars out of twelve.


Suicide Squad #39
By Williams, Edwards, and Arreola

Rating: I finally dropped this book as well. It's a shame it's been mostly bad for the last six and a half years since, seeing it on the shelf in December of 2011 while in Phoenix, Arizona, it was the impetus that got me back into comics and reading The New 52. If I had to judge the past seven years based on the quality of comic books I've read since that moment, I'd say it was a bad decision to walk into that comic book store. But if I had to judge it on how much enjoyment it's given me through writing about comic books, it was one of the best decisions of my life. But now, I must finally break up with this comic book because Rob Williams writes terrible one-dimensional characters. He isn't as funny as he might think he is. I suppose he doesn't give a shit if his characters' quips are humorous or not. He just knows he gets the same dollar amount per page no matter how shitty the quality of each page. Well, I finally give a shit and I won't read this shit any more. Point five out of ten stars.


Justice League of America #28
By Orlando, Petrus, and Hi-Fi

Rating: Now that Lobo has left the team, I can finally read this comic book with clarity and objectivity. And it's not very good. For some reason, Orlando has decided that telling a good story is less important than stating a thesis and then restating that thesis and then grabbing the reader by the back of the neck and rubbing the reader's face in that thesis. I'm not sure why he even bothered to give the script to an artist. He could have just written "Inspiration is the most important thing in the world (after diversity, of course. But we covered that in the early issues)." The premise of this story is that super-heroes inspire people to greatness. That hasn't been the reality of comic books for decades (since Watchmen, probably?) but it's still a shared delusion that comic book readers all pretend to believe. Super-heroes aren't meant to take care of our problems for us because that apparently makes us weaker (although that's been the plot of every comic book since Watchmen. Probably); super-heroes inspire us to be as heroic as they are (except more heroic because we aren't invulnerable or good looking). But how could super-heroes be so inspiring if they didn't have inspiration as well? Nobody thinks up or does anything meaningful by themselves. Somebody has to do nothing but inspire before somebody else can think, "Oh! I hadn't thought of that! Now let me do all the real work while you go on singing or raising awareness or being famous or whatever." So super-heroes were inspired by a god of super-heroes whose existence they depend on. I guess without him, little Bruce Wayne would have just shrugged his shoulders after his parents were murdered and grown up to be another boring businessman.

Chronos has decided the way to defeat all the heroes at once is to kill Ahl, the god of super-heroes, with a magic brick. This is one of the few stories in recorded history that would be made better by a final revelation that it was all a dream. The other stories that would be made better by the dream revelation thing are the previous stories in this comic book series. Hopefully the final issue of Justice League of America will be Batman being awakened by one of his own long and painful farts. Then Alfred will walk in, make a sour face, and wave his hands in front of his nose before thinking, "That reminds me. Whatever happened to Batcow?"

One star out of seven.


Action Comics #1000
By lots of people.

Speaking of inspiration being the means to the end of itself, here's an eight dollar book with a bunch of stories all about inspiration! The stories within are best summarized by Geoff Johns and Dick Donner's story "The Car." It's about the guy who owned the car on the cover of Action Comics #1. The man's car is a metaphor for the man's life: he can either fix it or junk it. Superman gives him the option to make his life about helping make other people's lives better so they don't have to live the shitty life that led this man into crime. As Superman and the man speak, the guy says, out of nowhere, really, "Out on 45th, yeah. It used to get so hot, we always wanted to go swimmin' but there weren't no pool." As I read that, my eyes rolled and I blacked out for three minutes. "What the fuck was that non sequitur?" I thought critically. Sure, Superman mentioned the guy grew up in the orphanage on 45th. But who suddenly goes into some sort of nostalgic reverie over that comment? Shouldn't he just be like, "Yeah, I growed up there, Supes. What of it?!"

But being a Grandmaster Comic Book Reader, I know when dialogue that sounds unnaturally wedged into the story has been placed there to make a point later. So this man whom Superman lets go to fix his life or junk it chooses to fix his life by making the world a better place. And how does he do that? By breaking fire hydrants down on 45th so that the kids can keep cool! Thank God Superman is on the job to inspire people to make a difference! Can you imagine if those kids had to be a little too warm for a few weeks without this do-gooder's do-gooding?! I'm so glad Superman is out there inspiring us all to be our best selves!

Paul Dini's story, Actionland, is the best story because unlike Tom King and Scott Snyder and Geoff Johns and that Bendis guy, he doesn't think he has to be the smartest guy in the story collection. He just writes a dirty story about Mxyzptlk's sex life complete with rocket boners and purple-headed innuendos. I wonder how many young people will check this out of their elementary school library and get their first sexy time feelings reading this? They'll probably be confused and it will impact their sex life for decades after.

Brad Meltzer decides to twist the idea that everybody else came up with for this book: he has Superman inspired by the people he saves! But his story sucks because it didn't end with "I apologize for killing Sue Dibny."

Rating: I lied. This issue isn't about Superman being inspiring at all. It's, apparently, all about whether or not he's Superman without the red briefs. According to nearly every writer and artist in this issue, Superman's underwear is the most important part of Superman. And while some of them simply put the underwear back on him without saying much about it, Bendis seems to think his entire story hinges on mentioning it over and over and over again. I've never read Bendis so I'm now thinking, "This is what everybody raves about?" I'll simply assume this isn't his best work rather than assume it's typical of his writing. Although why would he write such overwrought pap for his big debut at DC? I'm not talking about the pages of underwear dialogue now. I'm talking about the prologue he's written for whatever he's doing next for DC. Once again we have a writer who believes their voice is so important to the comic book world that they have to bring about their vision of the Superman mythos by rewriting the entire thing. So welcome DoomsMongulod, the newest and worst nemesis Superman has ever faced! Working with Jor-el (because we haven't gotten enough reworking of Jor-el into a terrible person over the last few years (what is this fascination with making the previously glorified parents of superheroes into pieces of shit?)), Rogol Zarr (the Doomsday Mongul Zod Lobo mash-up) was the cause of Krypton's destruction in his quest to kill all Kryptonians.

Okay, maybe Jor-el wasn't part of this guy's quest. I should probably point out that Rogol Zarr simply says he promised Jor-el that he'd destroy all Kryptonians. That was probably meant as a threat and not a handshake deal. I just needed to add this paragraph because my facetiousness is hard to read in written texts to an online audience rabid to correct as many people as possible (whether they need correcting or not!).

58 stars out of 1000.


Kick-Ass #3
By Millar and Romita Jr.

Rating: Kick-Ass finally learns that she's not in a comic book. I mean, she is. But the premise is that she isn't. And she learns the painful lesson about reality this issue when everything goes to hell and she's captured by her nemesis. You can tell he's her nemesis because he looks different than all the other characters who pretty much look the same. That way when she encounters him, she doesn't have to think his name so the reader can say, "Oh! That's who that is! Her brother-in-law! There's no way I would have remembered." Now when Violencia appears, the reader can exclaim, "That's that guy! The really bad one! You can tell because he's covered in tattoos and piercings!" Then everybody in the coffee shop can scowl at that imaginary reader for shouting although it could have been worse. I almost made the reader shout, "That's the fucking cunt who almost killed Kick-Ass!" Then they really would have had a reason to scowl self-righteously.

3 stars out of 5. It might be standard Kick-Ass fare but I guess it's sort of entertaining if you've completely forgotten the premise of the first two Kick-Asses (which is also the premise of this Kick-Ass (I think. I've forgotten the premise of the first two)).


Deadman #6
By Neil Adams

Rating: Thank the stars this is the final issue so I don't have to feel compelled to buy another issue of this nonsensical garbage. I said "Thank the stars!" because I don't believe in God. But is thanking the stars any more reasonable than thanking God even when I don't believe in Him? Because now I sound like one of those wacky jerks from the seventies who believed in astrology and extra body hair and big orange vans.

Every cover of this series has had some kind of secret or special cover right up until this one. But I figure this one must have some kind of secret so I completely ruined it due to being convinced it was a Mad Fold-in. I'm still not positive it isn't so maybe I'll scan it into Photoshop and play around with it for a bit.

It's no good! I can't figure it out! I'm stumped as to how this cover is special. Maybe the fact that it's not special is how it's special! Maybe the only secret is the eye in Deadman's musculature?

Reading Deadman is like watching somebody have a stroke in slow motion. Did people at DC Comics simply accept the pages of this comic book without checking up on Neal? Editor Kristy Quinn must have been paid to not do her job. "Just accept whatever he turns in, Kristy," ordered DiDio as he wrote up a complaint to Human Resources about how long James Tynion IV holds eye contact. "It's not like he's going to come up with anything better on a second try. Did you read The Coming of the Supermen? No? Nobody did. Don't bother reading this either."

At one point during Deadman's "conversation" with Rama Kushna, he says, "You got no time to shut up and get on with it!" I have now spent longer contemplating the meaning of that line than the meaning of my own existence.

I think maybe this issue is a transcription of Neal Adams' personal conversation with God. Or maybe he's ranting at DC Comics for stealing all of his life's ideas and treating him like shit. Doesn't this sound more like Neal ranting at DC than Deadman ranting at Rama Kushna:

Neal: "Do you actually think I want to be here? You suck, you know that? This whole place sucks! If I could...I'd spit on you!"
More Neal, continued: "And you...you soulless witch...you have all my secrets and you hold them away from me!! I hate you...with a blue flame, Rama Bullpucky. You lie to me...and you compound your lies!! You're like a politician. You don't even know when you're lying."

Neal and/or Deadman seems angry at something but it's never really made clear. Nothing in this book was ever clear. It's the ramblings of a madman who gets to draw and say whatever he likes for a paycheck. I'm so fucking envious of Neal Adams right now! Who knew that by working hard your entire life at a job that earns you kudos and respect, a person can be rewarded with a paying soapbox to do whatever the fuck they want?! Why didn't somebody tell me this at twenty?! Instead, I've been on the non-paying soapbox trying to garner an audience by rambling like a madman! Stupid system!

Zero stars out of ten.

* * * * * * * * * *


Grunion Guy's Musical Corner of Music Reviews!

Praise the Lord by Everlast
There are as many versions of rap as there are versions of rock. Maybe more since rock only has the two types: "I love fucking girls" and "There's a girl I want to fuck but she won't let me." I guess if we think of "Prog Rock" as rock, we discover a few more kinds of rock themes, such as "Don't help poor people because it hinders their ambition," and "I read a book once and I'm going to tell you about it now." Some people think the only versions of rap and/or hip hop that exist are "We're about to fuck, baby" and "Let's kill some cops." But this is Everlast so we get the white variation on rap with this song which is "I got beats and can rhyme better than all the other n-words, yo!" I'm not a white rapper so I'm not allowed to say the n-word when I'm being a bit jokey. If I were writing a serious treatise on whatever serious people write about, I would totally use it. The only other time I'd actually use the word n-word is if playing it would help me win a Scrabble championship. And then I'd probably make it plural to get the fifty point bonus and also so I could play it by pluralizing the last word I played, faggot. Although, I bet Scrabble doesn't allow players to use the n-word and I'd lose in a challenge. But they have to allow faggot because I was using the British variation of it, of course.
       Anyway, this song by the jump around guy playing a character named Whitey Ford was written to express how great he is at writing rap songs (presumably all about how great he is at writing rap songs about how great he is). At one point, he compares himself to Edgar Allen Poe which I thought was super clever because I recognized that name as a writer of psychological thrillers and sado-masochistic porn. He also mentions farting in a line where some people catch the vapors. Is that old-time farting? Probably!
Grade: C.

Crocodile by XTC
This song falls into a sub-category of "There's a girl I want to fuck but she won't let me" because it's about Andy Partridge's wife who left him. I think. Aren't all the songs on Nonsuch about that? I suppose every song in existence could be about Andy Partridge and his divorce from his wife Marianne if I think about it for long enough.
       The problem with this song is that it's on an album where I love half of the songs so much that it causes me to dislike the other songs even more than I normally would. So "Crocodile" and "Holly Up On Poppy" and "Humble Daisy" and "Bungalow" wind up covered in my spit and invective because I'd rather hear "War Dance" or "Rook" or "The Ballad of Peter Pumpkinhead" or "Dear Madam Barnum" or "Books Are Burning."
       Also, I read up on this album a little bit and discovered that the supposed crocodile noises in "Crocodile" are actually just slowed down pig grunts. Being that I have no understanding of my emotional responses to things (if that emotional response is anything other than blind, angry hatred), I don't know if this impresses me or makes me feel like fool.
Grade: C.

18 Wheeler by Pink
Pink lets us know immediately in this song that we can't keep her down after which she makes me realize my categories of rock songs are completely sexist! Who knew I was sexist?! I certainly learned something today! Also maybe I'm racist and homophobic based on my Scrabble bit earlier!
      Anyway, Pink's song, "18 Wheeler," falls into the rock category of "I'm the girl that's not going to let you fuck her." So while my categories were sexist in their initial perspective, they still work, I guess. It's also a good example of how the "girl" and the "fucking" in my category are completely metaphorical. See, you thought I was really limiting myself in my categories while also being sexist, didn't you?! Well maybe you won't underestimate me next time now that I've pretended I knew what I was doing all along.
       Let me explain: the "18 Wheeler" is a metaphor for music producers. I think. And Pink is all, "You aren't going to treat me like a slave because I'll join the Underground Railroad. Choo choo!" Which might be a bit of an iffy metaphor, Pink. I mean, do you really want to compare yourself to a slave when you're a rock star? I suppose it isn't as bad as her song called "My Vietnam" in which Pink declares how helping feed the homeless one time in her life was as bad as Vietnam. At times, Pink can get really melodramatic.
       iTunes lists the album Missundaztood under the genre of "Dance & House." Who comes up with these things? I'm pretty sure this song is simply "Rock" or "Pop." It certainly doesn't make me want to dance. Especially when Pink pronounces "sword" as "suh-ward."
Grade: C.

Last Dance by The Cure
Most of the songs on Disintegration fall into a subcategory of "There's a girl I want to fuck but she won't let me." That subcategory is "There's a girl I want to fuck but she won't let me because she drowned or something just as tragic. Maybe she just moved on with her life and left me to wither in my heartbreak and pain." This song seems to be about the death of innocence, or the dangers of living in nostalgia, or, maybe, about a man who murders a woman he once loved when they were children because she doesn't love him anymore. It's hard to tell because every song on Disintegration sounds as if you've just taken six Vicodin (it's the only opiate-based medication I've ever taken so it's all I can compare it to! Otherwise I'd probably say, "Five seconds on a morphine drip!" or "Three spoons of heroin!" or "Tea derived from steeping twenty-eight opium poppies!") and learned to listen to music through gauze while somebody sits by you, holding and caressing your hand, reminding you of the death of every pet you've ever had.
       Disintegration really is an album that probably did more harm than good hearing it at the time of my life I did. What I needed was an album that had songs like "How Many Times Does She Have to Tell You No, You Stalker?!" and "Take Control of Your Emotions, You Jackass!" and "Get on With Living, Dope!" Instead I discovered this album which was all, "Why?" and "How could she?" and "Maybe She Can Love Me If I Just Invest Even More Time Than I've Already Wasted!"
Grade: A+.

Some Fantastic by Bare Naked Ladies
I've never before noticed how much this song sounds like somebody simply hit a tempo button on an 80s keyboard before ad-libbing some goofy lyrics. Do all Bare Naked Ladies songs sound that way? I'm currently convinced the answer to that question is "How did I never notice it before?!"
      I was just goofing around when I came up with my rock categories but this song is another version of the "There's a girl I want to fuck but she won't let me." But instead of being sad about it, this guy is all, "If I think about it enough, I'll come up with some ridiculous plan to get her to sleep with me!" Then he lists all of those plans. I think if he had one more verse, it would be all, "I'll buy a van and remove the handles from the inside door before learning which bus you take to work after which I'll pull up and ask you if you can help me find my lost puppy. But first I need to learn where I can buy chloroform."
Grade: B-.

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Letters to Me!

KB writes: There really ought to be an annual Superboy Punch! to clean up continuity. There are of course conflicting opinions about what should be cleaned up, but maybe we start with the comics events that have pissed off a lot of fans, and see if the criticisms are valid, or if there are better versions of those events. Like, Barbara Gordon. There are differing opinions about whether she was better as Oracle in her wheelchair, but I think we can probably agree that the rapey aspects of "The Killing Joke" are worth retconning away.

My Reply: Isn't one of DC's big problems that they try a Superboy Punch! every few years? They should probably just leave everything alone. I especially don't think they should let fans determine what should and shouldn't be canon. They're the worst people to be in charge! Like if I were to write only stuff Doom Bunny wants me to write about, this blog would be full of recipes that didn't have any cheese unless it was cheddar and only in super extreme circumstances. Also if there are nuts in the recipe, there shouldn't be any chocolate. Also every plated recipe would look like an orgasming penis.

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KB Writes: The young have never heard of Chesterton's Fence. It goes as follows:

"In the matter of reforming things, as distinct from deforming them, there is one plain and simple principle; a principle which will probably be called a paradox. There exists in such a case a certain institution or law; let us say, for the sake of simplicity, a fence or gate erected across a road. The more modern type of reformer goes gaily up to it and says, "I don't see the use of this; let us clear it away." To which the more intelligent type of reformer will do well to answer: "If you don't see the use of it, I certainly won't let you clear it away. Go away and think. Then, when you can come back and tell me that you do see the use of it, I may allow you to destroy it.""

To put it differently, maybe very simple solutions rarely fix the world because the world is a complicated place. Much more often than not, the "wisdom of youth" is more aptly called "the Dunning-Kruger effect". All in all I think it's a good thing that Tynion IV doesn't have the power to remake the world in his image, because good Lord imagine all the fences he'd rip down all willy-nilly.

My Reply: I think Chesterton doesn't describe his paradox clearly enough, or he needs to work on it a bit more. Sometime in my early twenties, I took up the philosophy that if I really despised something, or something really annoyed me for seemingly arbitrary reasons, I should actually pursue that thing as if I were one of the mindless masses to see if I could understand the joy of that thing. It's why I wound up with my tongue pierced in my mid-twenties. Although that also came about as challenging myself to do something ritualistic so that I could, even if only symbolically, feel like I'd made some transition between childhood and adulthood. I suppose taking my cross country trip in my Volkswagen bus was that as well. And that was a good metaphor for my transition to adulthood since my bus broke down halfway across the country.

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KB Writes: Can I admit that I miss all your daily thousands and thousands of reviews? Not that I want you to subject yourself to that sort of suffering; we've got only one of you so we should keep you in good repair. But, I really did enjoy all the hard work you did. Have you ever considered re-reviewing Cullen Bunn's work to see if you like it any better years later?

My Reply: I miss doing all of those reviews as well! Which is why I'm doing this! I'm not sad to be reading far, far less comic books though. I've finally gotten back to reading actual books at a reasonable pace again and I'm enjoying it. Plus one used book costs as much as one twenty page comic which just makes me hate comic books even more than I do when I'm reading one by Cullen Bunn. Speaking of which, how dare you ask me to consider re-reading Cullen Bunn's comic books! I was just forgetting about Twat Lobo and now look what you've done? I'm bleeding from my eyes and anus!

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That's all for this week! I've forgotten my sign-out! Later, jerkos? That sounds about right!

Eclipso: The Darkness Within: Flash Annual #5 (June 1992)

This cover is almost a goatse!

Eclipso: The Darkness Within: Flash Annual #5 (June 1992)
By Mark Waid, Craig Boldman, Travis Charest, Dan Davis, Scott Hanna, John Lowe, Timothy Harkins, and Matt Hollingsworth
Cover by Travis Charest and Dan Davis
Edited by Brian Michael Augustyn

The Cover!
This is dangerous territory for a critic (and while I might not be a critic, I am intensely critical). I've heard that some idiot's mother once said something about not saying anything at all rather than dropping your drawers and shitting all over Travis Charest. But I don't get many opportunities to do it so why would I listen to that idiot's mother (who is also an idiot)? I had the opportunity to express my displeasure with his work on Darkstars and one of the covers of Robin III: Cry of the Huntress. I'll get another chance whenever I get to DC Showcase '93. But for now, here we have, basically, his first professional gig (being that this was released in 1992 and Showcase '93 in — you guessed it — 1993). And for his first cover, Travis decided to go with 60% solid black inks. Since this is an Eclipso story, I'll allow that it was a fine, if lazy, idea. About 30% of the rest of the cover, as we'll see in his general artwork (I'm assuming since I haven't actually opened this book for thirty-four years), lines. Lines, lines, and more lines is something I'm assuming Travis's art teacher once told him five thousand times. "If you think you have enough lines, you don't! Only when you're dizzy with vertigo from all the lines will your be able to declare your work finished!" Judging by that metric, Travis Charest has knocked this cover out of the ballpark. I just wish I hadn't been standing in the parking lot to catch it.

So many lines . . . going to . . . vomit . . .

The Story So Far
I don't know. Eclipso has eclipsed a number of heroes but not enough. I guess he's got Bruce Gordon's girlfriend's hot ass now as well as a handful of actual heroes, none of them that impressive: Starman, Hal Jordan, Star Sapphire, The Creeper, Valor. I'm not sure if he managed to capture Etrigan because my Eclipso Demon Annual isn't with this batch of Eclipso books being that I actually collected The Demon at the time. So it's with them.

The Story
The issue begins with me thinking, "I knew I came here to make fun of Travis Charest but I didn't think I'd get Mark Waid in my sights as well."

The only way this conversation makes sense is if it's one of The Kids in the Hall sketches where they make fun of stupid cops (i.e., all cops).

It's possible (probable, even, but I'm being purposefully dense right now) that the panel makes perfect sense but I've been programmed to understand fanny in the British sense and now I'm picturing somebody wiggling their fanny and most of the blood has left my brain for a secret location on my body. If you're over 18, you can drop me an email and I'll tell you what secret body part that is. If you're under 18, you probably already know I meant my penis.

The cops discuss how much they know about and love nuts while The Flash runs by on a nightly jog. Wally decides to investigate because an optometrist building nearby, the one the cop was talking about, wasn't there the day before. I would have stopped to investigate to make sure either the cop wasn't suffering from a nut allergy or an ape wasn't impersonating a cop. One of those reasons.

At this point in Travis Charest's career, he had never actually seen a human face.

The cop who wanted the other cop to do a sexy little dance earlier happens to be so hungry he's getting a headache. Luckily, they find a can of nuts on the ground so why not eat up? Free trash still in the can? Delicious! The big twist is that the can of nuts was rolled out into the street by The Trickster so you know it won't have nary a nut inside it. It's probably full of raisins. Ha ha! What a trick that would be!

I should offer up a correction and say that the cops were actually night deposit security men? You know, the kinds of guys who drive armored trucks full of money around. But they do it at night because it's more dangerous and easier to be robbed? And that's what The Trickster's doing. The Flash can't stop him because Weather Wizard appears at just the right time to freeze Wally in a block of ice. It doesn't kill him though because, um, comic books, I guess. He also doesn't vibrate out of it because Wally sucks (which the Rogues make sure to mention, of course. "Barry Barry Barry!" they say while then saying, "Barry! Barry Barry!"). They get away to go have a secret Rogues Gallery meeting while The Flash thaws out, goes home, and has a mini-adventure inside his friend Chunk's butthole. I mean black hole. I don't know. It was weird. If it has anything to do with the rest of the story, I'll mention it then. Otherwise, I'm moving on and ignoring it.

If only he had been in Chunk's butthole though! You would have had a play-by-play of that encounter!

Captain Cold has sent out an invitation to the Rogues for an emergency meeting. I guess they meet in a movie theater because why not be complete and utter pieces of shit when you're already mostly a piece of shit? The people trying to watch the movie do this thing to show their disapproval of other people talking through the film. Here it is:

I can't believe they actually went there! Such harsh criticism!

I wonder if Mark Waid just wrote in his script, "Have the other movie-goers show their disapproval," and Travis was all, "Oh, a thumbs down! That's like an international sign that nobody would ever use but I'll have everybody in the theater use it as if it's a common thing to do!" I mean, maybe it was a common thing to do in a '90s movie theater and my choice of yelling, "SHUT THE FUCK UP YOU FUCKING STUPID MOTHERFUCKERS!" was a bit too Avant Garde for most people.

Later, Chillblaine doesn't know how to cross his arms and the Rogues share their love of Tuesday.

I think Travis asked a friend to pose with their arms crossed and then, having to think about how they cross their arms instead of just doing it, panicked and came up with that.

But before Tuesday comes around so that everybody can, I don't know, fuck it, I guess?, everybody has to get through Monday just chillin'.

I guess Mondays are for masturbation?

Mondays are also for kidnapping Wally West which is what Chillblaine, the least chill of the group, does with his day. Chillblaine just seems to be some raging Alpha bag full of testosterone that Golden Glider's currently fucking. I guess her brother, Captain Cold, was in jail at the time so Chillblaine's taken his place in with the Rogues. Nobody likes him because he can't cross his arms correctly and he's a dick.

Turns out Mondays are actually for each of the Rogues to stab each other in the back by doing the Tuesday job on their own one day early. It doesn't work out because they all do it which means it probably worked out perfectly for Chillblaine and Golden Glider who knew they would all attempt the job early. That's just stories work when you've got a writer who decides that plans always work out perfectly until they finally don't for some reason which is weird because all the things that happen in a plan are usually wildly implausible and then a normal thing in the plan's chain breaks and I'm always all, "Wait. What? THAT didn't work?! The easiest part of the plan?! But the part where the plan relied on the hero to take two minutes longer than usual on his morning shit because they fed him some extra fiber did work?!"

I'm guessing The Flash's secret identity isn't secret (I assume this because all of his villains are always all, "Barry was way better at this than you!") or else why would Chillblaine want to kidnap Wally West? Fuck, I just realized I don't even know what Wally West's regular job was. I'm going to guess "slacker" which is why he probably doesn't have a secret identity. He's all, "See?! I'm not lazy! You're lazy! Because you're all so fucking slow is what I'm saying! Idiots!"

Oh, um, well, there you go! Question answered!

I'm such a dumb jerk. I just realized Chillblaine is probably Starman. This whole plan to trick the Rogues into stealing the Black Diamond and kidnapping The Flash so he can send him on their tail is the entire Eclipso plan! I probably would have figured it out a long time ago if I didn't spend several days between each page I read.

I'm 27 pages in and I know I haven't been giving Travis Charest the hard time I promised. You can see in the panels I've scanned why I would want to give him a hard time but Mark Waid's script is also pretty fucking bad so I've been a bit distracted. But I thought I should maybe give Trav his big chance at being insulted by me, the greatest comic book critic on the Internet! But that's when Golden Glider showed up and my brain was all, "Hey, he does nice tits, doesn't he?" And I was all, "Hey, Brain? Could you stop trying to get a response out of Dick? You know he's 54, right? He doesn't just hop-to at a couple of nicely drawn titties. He needs story these days! He needs, say, a pirate whose cousin has just come aboard his ship after they hadn't seen each other for fifteen years and she's wearing tight leather pants and a billowy shirt that keeps billowing almost enough to see nipple (which you can see anyway through the shirt what with the cool breeze blowing and also she probably iced them up before the shot). And she's all, "Oh my god! I'm so horny after my encounter with those eight sex mermaids who did all kinds of disgusting things to me but couldn't finish me off because I need some serious man penetration!" And then her cousin is all, "Yeah, me too! Lucky I run a gay pirate ship!" And then he hands her an eight-dicked octopus dildo and says, "Maybe this will help!" And she's all, "Well, it's better than nothing. But can I at least watch all y'all gays fuck as fuck myself raw?" And he's all, "Actually, tonight is Scrabble night!" And she's all, "Fuck! I love Scrabble! I can pleasure myself later!" And then there's like two hours of exciting Scrabble play and what was I talking about?"

Luckily the tits were kind of hard to see in this panel so I noticed a few other things wrong with it. See if you can spot them too!

I guess the main thing wrong with that panel is that Chillblaine must be about ten feet tall. But maybe that's not wrong because is he ten feet tall? The other problem I have with that picture is this: Where did the '90s artists who were so bad at art and yet so beloved by idiot comic book lovers all learn to draw the same stupid faces? This is how Travis draws faces but it may as well be Rob Liefeld or Marat Mychaels. Probably others but, like, I never read Pre-Image Marvel and then Image. I definitely never looked at a cover of any of the '90s X-Men off-shoots or Image books and thought, "Holy shit that looks amazing! I have to buy it!" To me, it all read exactly like the cover of Doom Force. That was a parody that got it so exactly right.

It turns out Wally West has been attached to the sphere in which the Black Diamond is kept. Golden Glider poisons the Rogues by fucking them with her poison puss and then tells them that whichever gets the Black Diamond away from Flash gets the antidote. Okay, maybe Starman is actually Golden Glider since she's thought up this overly complicated plan to Eclipse The Flash. My plan, if I were Eclipso, would be to possess a worker at Wally's favorite pizza place, put a bunch of the wrong toppings on one of his pizzas along with the Black Diamond, and then when he finds the Diamond and takes it off the pizza, he'll be super pissed at them getting the order wrong. Then after he destroys the pizza chain and kills a bunch of teenage employees, he'll be free to do Eclipso's bidding!

Instead The Flash battles Captain Boomerang in a fight so confusing that I still don't know what happened. I'm not sure Travis Charest understood Waid's script and completely fucked up the fight scene.

Go ahead. Make sense of that yourself! I can't look at it anymore. I've thrown up on my laptop six times from line-induced vertigo!

What happened (which was not represented visually at all except vaguely one time) was that Captain Boomerang threw a boomerang that split every time it was hit but then it kept flying around and/or at Wally as if it had been thrown like a real boomerang. So when The Flash is spinning in that one panel, I guess he's causing all the little boomerangs (millions at this point? I don't know because Travis only ever drew three boomerangs (the first one and then a panel with two more that you really had to work hard to interpret that they were born of the first one) to orbit him so he can smash them all back at their source? And somehow when he smashes them back at the source, this time they didn't all split when struck because they were, um, confused from the spinning?

I think maybe Travis's art goes pretty well with Waid's script! Well paired! Like Dog Urine Rosé and Cat Shit Linguine!

Speaking of Doom Force, there's an advert for it in this issue! "Hey kids! Are you currently making fun of the art you're seeing right now? Well see how Grant Morrison, Keith Giffen, and Steve Pugh make fun of it!"

So a whole bunch of confusing battle happens. I can't follow hardly any of it once The Flash smashes through the ceiling riding a spout of Weather Wizard's water. Everybody gets lost. Nobody knows what's what. Glider and Chillblaine actually fuck downstairs during the battle. The Black Diamond they're fighting over turns out to be a bomb of some kind and The Flash rushes outside to throw it in the air where it can explode harmlessly. But does he run out and hammer throw it on the end of its tether? No. He puts it in a wheelchair and then push-throws the wheelchair into the sky? Like, um, that was actually more difficult? Barry would have done the hammer throw, dude.

Anyway, The Flash winds up Eclipsed because he gets mad when his friend Chunk shows up and doesn't save him. Um. What? I'm not even sure why Chunk was there. Some mystery person in a sleek car lured him over. Starman, maybe? I bet it was revealed in the script but Travis Charest didn't know how to convey the reveal in images and so he just left the unknown person as glowing eyes and a smile in the darkness.

The Ranking!
Absolute dogshit. Saying this is dogshit might be an insult to the colon of a dog because why would I accuse it of being able to push out something this fucking horrible. I'd rather step in dogshit than read this comic book again. I wonder if I drank three liters of vodka right now, the ensuing black-out would incorporate this moment into it and I could forget I ever read it. No, I'd better forget that rout. Every sci-fi story in existence where somebody chose to forget something always winds up with the person so curious about what they forgot and why that they seek out the memory. I'd like to assume that I trust myself enough to not seek out the reason I chose memory loss over the memory but I also think I should trust better writers before me and the lessons they've tried to teach. I didn't read nearly every book by Philip K. Dick and not learn a little something about, um, memory loss and delusional identity disorders?

Eclipso: The Darkness Within: Superman Annual #4 (June 1992)

All the cool kids are getting Eclipsed.

Eclipso: The Darkness Within: Superman Annual #4 (June 1992)
By Dan Vado, Scott Benefiel, Trevor Scott, Albert De Guzman, and Matt Hollingsworth
Cover by Joe Quesada and Jimmy Palmiotti
Edited by Dan Thorsland and Mike Carlin

The Cover!
I'm trying not to focus on Lois Lane's boob but as you can see by the way I began by mentioning Lois Lane's boob, I've already lost the battle. The male gaze more effectively possesses the mind of a man than one of Eclipso's Black Diamonds. At least I'm able to embrace it whereas many angry men want to believe the modern world will crucify them if they acknowledge their own lust and horniness. And judging by Lois's line of sight, she's currently captured by the Female Gaze as she stares straight down Superman's cock outline in his tight spandex Kryptonian briefs. Or is that still the male gaze since a male, Joe Quesada, drew this and thought, "If I were Lois Lane, I'd be thinking about sucking off Superman's steel beam right now." Which is less "horny" and more "gross" because he just drew Lois beating the shit out of Superman and he thinks she's thinking about fucking him right after? No wait. I'm thinking he's thinking that which means I'm more gross than horny. Whoops! Maybe I should stop exposing my true inner self on the Internet by writing pretend comic book reviews? Naw. What else am I going to do with the rest of my life which turned out to be way, way longer than I originally thought it would be. It's like, "Enough already!", amirite?

One more question about the cover which will probably be answered when I read the comic book so just regard most of this as a psychic form of physical masturbation. I'm asking the question for my own pleasure, I mean. "Why is Lois Lane beating up Superman after becoming Eclipsed?" It's been established that after a person is possessed by Eclipso, the God of Vengeance, they must destroy the thing that made them so angry. So what did Superman do to Lois? Not washing dishes, my man? Poor quality control in the bedroom? Did she find his Kryptonian Playboys and the red sun fleshlight in his Fortress of Solitude's Fortress of Solitude (the bathroom)? Boy howdy do I hope these questions are answered in this comic book and that the answer is that last one I suggested!

The Story So Far
Eclipso continues to sit on his moon toilet talking to Valor while his Black Diamonds scattered all over the Earth do all of the work. He doesn't have much more of a plan than "I hope some super heroes get really angry after finding and picking up one of the thousand shards of my original Black Diamond prison!" Currently he has control of Valor, Starman, The Creeper, and maybe Star Sapphire and Hal Jordan? I read that Annual so long ago that I can't remember who was still possessed when it ended.

No.

The Story!
Superman has failed to locate Eclipso because, well, he's not Batman and did Batman do it in Detective Comics? No, he fucking didn't. Although Superman, being able to fly into space and think about flying into space and having the moon be a territory within his reach that he must think about on occasion, should think, "Where would I put my base of operations if I were a being whose entire identity was based around how the moon blocks out the sun?" It's not like it's the most complicated riddle in the world. So instead of searching for Eclipso so he can attack him at the source, Superman flies around Metropolis looking for a couple of Black Diamonds that may or may not be there. Somehow he lucks onto the one person in the city who has a Black Diamond sitting in their pocket. Not because the guy is angry and smashing downtown Metropolis but because he's holding a gun to a woman's head and ranting like a paranoid schizophrenic. Superman doesn't know the guy has a Black Diamond but Bruce Gordon runs up, panting and sweating from his long sprint from Gotham, to tell Superman that the man has a Black Diamond. Bruce Gordon knows because he's got a device that can find Black Diamonds when they're in use or when the plot needs him to know where they are.

Why am I suddenly thinking about my first junior high school crush?

Bruce Gordon believes this man having the Black Diamond was an intricate trap by Eclipso to catch Superman. That's even more paranoid thinking than the guy holding the woman hostage screaming about needing a ship to go into space and fight an alien demon. Mostly because that guy's talking about Eclipso which is actually happening and Bruce Gordon's theory relies on the Black Diamonds having way more control over their own destiny than "being found in a gutter" or whatever. I guess once a person is possessed they become Eclipso on Earth which means he can use them to sort of get Superman's attention and then he can try to shove the Black Diamond up Superman's ass or however he means to possess him. So, okay, now that I've given it a little more thought, maybe Bruce Gordon isn't totally nuts. Also he's the foremost expert on Eclipso so maybe I should be trusting the experts, even if they're a fictional comic book character currently being written by Dan Vado. I should but it's hard. Where did I leave my hammer?

Superman beats up another of Eclipso's manifestations while Bruce Gordon bathes it in sunlight. Afterward, he questions the man who brought the Black Diamond to his city.

There you go! He's on the moon! Go get his ass!

Crater Bay? Was that a popular location in the DC Universe in 1992? Or is this just a city used in this story as a clue to Eclipso's location? Whatever its origin, Lois Lane is on the case! She's off to investigate the strange goings on in Crater Bay. I bet she runs into a bunch of fish looking motherfuckers who drive her insane.

No, wait, she's actually investigating a possible case of corporate corruption and illegal dumping of toxic chemicals. She also outs herself as a white supremacist.

What else could she mean by "one of the last bastions of real America"?

So fucking sick of this "common sense" idea that "the real America" lies in the exact place and time after the indigenous peoples have been run off, killed, and exiled but before the Civil Rights act and brown foreigners began coming to share the American dream. As if rural means anything at all. Or fucking "Heartland". Don't fucking mistake the metaphorical, bullshit meaning of that word for the literal reason it was coined: the area known as the heartland is simply center mass in the country. I wish the ass were thought of as the central component of the human body so we could just start calling the flyover states the Assland. Not that I think the people living there are ass (I mean, sure, some of them (maybe a lot of them!)) but it's better to be the butt of a joke than be raised up on some kind of white supremacist pedestal because of the word heart coinciding with a place where a bunch of dumb people think mostly white people reside. I lived in Lincoln, Nebraska, for a few years and if it weren't for the humidity and the Huskers fans, I might still live there yet. Summer lightning storms? Yes please. Lightning bugs?! Hallelujah! Blizzards that trap you at your married friends' house so that their four year old son could tell you about how, when he was in his mommy's tummy, he wanted to be a girl? Fantastic! His father's look every single day after that as he tried to process it? Priceless!

Lois Lane finds her reception in Crater Bay to be slightly chillier than she's normally received even in places that don't want journalists poking around.

Then why is he fucking running the inn?!

The angry old man is actually Eclipsed Starman in disguise because Starman can apparently change shape which is why Eclipso's so happy to have him. Now this is an obvious Superman trap! I knew trusting the expert was the right thing to do even if I really, really, really, really didn't want to and also because I despise him and his stupid Commissioner Batman name.

Eclipso, pissed off at everything (which is why he wants to destroy everything. He kind of has to because everything is what made him so mad), monologues a little more information about his plans (unless it's not a monologue when you're kind of talking to the alien in a coma and/or trance floating nearby). Crater Bay is the headquarters for his secret possessing Superman headquarters. The people of Crater Bay network with other possessed people around the world to distribute Black Diamonds to where Eclipso can manipulate leaders, heroes, and even the economy (probably. Maybe he doesn't care about money so much). See? The name of the town is a clue to is location! What an idiot. If I lived in a crater on the moon, I would name my Earth city base of operations, Venusville. It's like how my banking password is "IVENEVERSUCKEDADICKBEFORE".

An Eclipso monster confronts Superman, Bruce Gordon, and Mona (and Mona's amazing ass) on the road to Crater Bay and Superman has to smash the creature into a greenhouse that uses solar power to heat the place. It destroys the creature whose soul goes screaming to the moon.

So let me get this straight: any power generated from the sun can destroy Eclipso. Solar Lance toys. A flashlight powered by solar energy. Batteries charged by solar panels. If this is the case, can't anything destroy Eclipso since the source of all power on Earth — all of it! — comes from the sun? Couldn't Superman just smash a tree into Eclipso? Throw coal at him? How many degrees of separation must there be between "direct solar energy" and pretty much anything on Earth before it has no effect on Eclipso? Isn't he just basically safe from, um, rocks?

The fight destroys Gordon's Black Diamond Detector and almost destroys his Solar Flashlight. That just means it broke but he fixed it but it's also probably down to a negligible charge. Superman will probably have to defeat Eclipsed Lois Lane by spunking on her. "Gordon! Mona! Hold Lois down so I can titty fuck her! My semen's loaded with yellow sun juice and a facial seems like just the cure!"

The developer whose wife is being held hostage by Eclipso so that he'll help lure Superman into town spends all night trying to get Lois angry so she'll turn be Eclipsed. He spills two cups of coffee on her and tries to put his hands on her to sop up the spilled beverage but none of it gets her needle moving. No, to get her angry, things have to be personal.

Oh, of course! Condescension's the thing! That's so Lois.

So Superman kills Lois and saves the day. Next annual!

The Ranking!
Okay, maybe Lois Lane wasn't killed. Who can tell? Somebody would have to finish reading this comic book and did you know? It's 60 pages long! DC knows the kind of stupid dumb idiots who read comic books, right? They expect us to read sixty whole pages in one sitting?! Fucking hell. It's just too much. I can't do it. I won't do it! Unless the next page I read expresses how Woke Lois Lane is, I'm just not going to continue and assume she died. Or should I assume she was cured by that facial idea? Hmm. I wonder if I can commission Scott Benefiel to draw that scene so I can staple it into my Annual?

Yield means Yield, you cretin!

Okay fine! I'll finish! I hope Lois goes off on how terrible Reagan was after she's cured!

The story simply ends when the sun rises. Superman does the thing where he distracts the vampires and/or trolls and/or Eclipsos so that they lose track of time and get destroyed by the rising sun. But Mona winds up Eclipsed and hides in the houses in Crater Bay with all the rest of the Eclipsed inhabitants. Superman decides he'll have to come back with some "Marvel"ous help to save the residents later. He still doesn't even contemplate checking out the moon. Maybe he's decided that guy who wasn't actually crazy was crazy in just that one small detail of Eclipso living on the moon?

For some reason, I didn't find this issue as good as Detective Comics Annual #5. Come to think of it, I haven't read any comic book as good as that one. And yet why am I having trouble remembering any of it?