Cool! DC remembers September 11th, 2001!
It's a brand new year! That's probably pretty important. Some cynical people would say the changing from December 31st to January 1st has no actual special significance, just another day moving on to another day just like every other change of days. But you can only be cynical as long as you haven't heard Alan Moore speak about magic and faith. He just points out how spells are words and words are what convince people to do terrible or beautiful or compassionate or elaborate or any number of kinds of things. With faith, he simply points out that the idea of God is enough. You don't need God at all when just the idea of God has done so much to guide the course of history. And so I choose to believe that the energy spent on celebrating the change into the new year means something more. And in that spirit, I give you all my yearly blessing ("blessing" defined however you see fit):
Happy New Year! Don't let the people who aren't happy with their own lives and are trying to ruin life for so many others get you down! Remember the Four Horsemen which ultimately ruin their day when they're trying to make other people victims: ignore, ostracize, banish, and mock.
And now, the penultimate lyric of the series!
I am here. You are there. So many others in-between. In all the infinite vastness of time and space, how highly improbable that we should ever have met. It seems beyond all bounds of decency that we should fight, against the very will of the universe that we should treat each other poorly, truly the antithesis of reason that we should make each other miserable. We should laugh and we should embrace and we should grow more familiar with each other's oddities and differences and the rare and brief moments where we seem to have been created one for the other. And yet we were not which only makes our brief liaison in the unending bounds of time and space even more unlikely. We owe it to chance and improbability and random, stupid luck to be kind to each other.
Happy New Year! Don't let the people who aren't happy with their own lives and are trying to ruin life for so many others get you down! Remember the Four Horsemen which ultimately ruin their day when they're trying to make other people victims: ignore, ostracize, banish, and mock.
And now, the penultimate lyric of the series!
I heart Cervantes!
Everybody knows the story from Don Quixote where he tilts at windmills thinking they're giants. Most people probably think they know this part because it's the major plot point in the novel. But I think most people know it because it takes place about fifty pages into a nine hundred page book and they never really get much further than that. But nobody talks about the scene where Sancho Panza tries to expel an insistent bout of diarrhea without waking Don Quixote.
Thereafter follows further discussion on Sancho's stench which causes Don Quixote to remark, "Thou are certainly in great bodily fear." Perhaps the greatest line said to anybody who has just passed a rank fart.
But Cervantes shouldn't be known for the windmills or the defecating, if I should be so bold. He should be known for the story of Marcella, one of my favorite feminist bits written. Marcella has become an itinerant shepherdess in disguise because she could not stand men falling in love with her beauty and then blaming her when she rejected them. As one shepherd describes her: "And thus this fair maiden does more harm in this country, than the plague would do; for her courteousness and fair looks draw on everybody to love her; but then her dogged stubborn coyness breaks their hearts, and makes them ready to hang themselves. . .". Later, one of the men, Chrysostom, who spent his life writing poems in honor of Marcella, has killed himself and all the shepherds gather to bury him. Marcella appears to let these incel bastards have it. (Forgive the length of the following quote but I adore, adore, adore Marcella!)
That's way too long to fit into a tweet but it really should be the main reply to incels and misogynists and alpha cucks who believe women are without agency and simply sex objects for men.
Oh shit! Speaking of sex objects, let's see what Venus is up to!
Much about this time, whether it was the coolness of the night, or that Sancho had eaten some loosening food at supper, or, which seems more probable, that nature, by a regular impulse, gave him notice of her desire to perform a certain function that follows the third concoction; it seems, honest Sancho found himself urged to do that which nobody could do for him; but such were his fears that he durst not for his life stir the breadth of a straw from his master; yet, to think of bearing the intolerable load that pressed him so, was to him as great an impossibility. In this perplexing exigency (with leave be it spoken) he could find no other expedient but to take his right hand from the crupper of the saddle, and softly untying his breeches, let them drop down to his heels; having done this, he as silently took up his shirt, and exposed his posteriors, which were none of the least, to the open air: but the main point was how to ease himself of this terrible burden without making a noise; to which purpose he clutched his teeth close, screwed up his face, shrunk up his shoulders, and held in his breath as much as possible: yet see what misfortunes attend the best projected undertakings! When he had almost compassed his design, he could not hinder an obstreperous sound, very different from those that caused his fear, from unluckily bursting out. "Hark!" cried Don Quixote, who heard it, "what noise is that, Sancho?" "Some new adventures, I will warrant you," quoth Sancho, "for ill-luck, you know, seldom comes alone." Having passed off the thing thus, he even ventured the other strain, and did it so cleverly, that without the least rumour or noise, his business was done effectually, to the unspeakable ease of his body and mind.
Thereafter follows further discussion on Sancho's stench which causes Don Quixote to remark, "Thou are certainly in great bodily fear." Perhaps the greatest line said to anybody who has just passed a rank fart.
But Cervantes shouldn't be known for the windmills or the defecating, if I should be so bold. He should be known for the story of Marcella, one of my favorite feminist bits written. Marcella has become an itinerant shepherdess in disguise because she could not stand men falling in love with her beauty and then blaming her when she rejected them. As one shepherd describes her: "And thus this fair maiden does more harm in this country, than the plague would do; for her courteousness and fair looks draw on everybody to love her; but then her dogged stubborn coyness breaks their hearts, and makes them ready to hang themselves. . .". Later, one of the men, Chrysostom, who spent his life writing poems in honor of Marcella, has killed himself and all the shepherds gather to bury him. Marcella appears to let these incel bastards have it. (Forgive the length of the following quote but I adore, adore, adore Marcella!)
"I come not here to any of these ungrateful ends, Ambrose," replied Marcella, "but only to clear my innocence, and show the injustice of all those who lay their misfortunes and Chrysostom's death to my charge: therefore, I entreat you all, who re here at this time, to hear me a little, for I shall not need to use many words to convince people of the sense of an evident truth. Heaven, you are pleased to say, has made me beautiful, and that to such a degree that you are forced, nay, as it were, compelled to love me, in spite of your endeavours to the contrary; and, for the sake of that love, you say I ought to love you again. Now, though I am sensible that whatever is beautiful is lovely, I cannot conceive, that what is loved for being handsome should be bound to love that by which it is loved, merely because it is loved. He that loves a beautiful object may happen to be ugly; and as what is ugly deserves not to be loved, it would be ridiculous to say, 'I love you because you are handsome, and therefore you must love me again, though I am ugly.' But suppose two persons of different sexes are equally handsome, it does not follow that their desires should be alike and reciprocal; for all beauties do not kindle love; some only recreate the sight, and never reach nor captivate the heart. Alas! should whatever is beautiful beget love, and enslave the mind, mankind's desires would ever run confused and wandering, without being able to fix their determinate choice: for, as there is an infinite number of beautiful objects, the desires would consequently be also infinite; whereas, on the contrary, I have heard that true love is still confined to one, and voluntary and unforced. This being granted, why would you have me force y inclinations for no other reason but that you say you love me? Tell me, I beseech you, had Heaven formed me as ugly as it has made me beautiful, could I justly complain of you for not loving me? Pray consider also, that I do not possess those charms by choice; such as they are, they were freely bestowed on me by Heaven: and as the viper is not to be blamed for the poison with which it kills, seeing it was assigned her by nature; so I ought not to be censured for that beauty which I derive from the same cause: for beauty in a virtuous woman is but like a distant flame, or a sharp-edged sword, and only burns and wounds those who approach too near it. Honour and virtue are the ornaments of the soul, and that body that is destitute of them cannot be esteemed beautiful, though it be naturally so. If, then, honour be one of those endowments which most adorn the body, why should she that is beloved for her beauty expose herself to the loss of it, merely to gratify the loose desires of one who, for his own selfish ends, uses all the means imaginable to make her lose it? I was born free, and that I might continue so I retired to these solitary hills and plains, where trees are my companions, and clear fountains my looking-glasses. With the trees and with the waters I communicate my thoughts and my beauty. I am a distant flame, and a sword far of: those whom I have attracted with my sight, I have undeceived with my words; and if hope be the food of desire, as I never gave any encouragement to Chrysostom, nor to any other, it may well be said it was rather his own obstinacy than my cruelty that shortened his life. If you tell me that his intentions were honest, and therefore ought to have been complied with; I answer, that when, at the very place where his grave is making, he discovered his passion, I told him I was resolved to live and die single, and that the earth alone should reap the fruit of my reservedness, and enjoy the spoils of my beauty; and if, after all the admonitions I gave him, he would persist in his obstinate pursuit, and sail against the wind, what wonder is it he should perish in the waves of his indiscretion? Had I ever encouraged him, or amused him with ambiguous words, then I had been false; and had I gratified his wishes, I had acted contrary to my better resolves. He persisted, though I had given him a due caution, and he despaired without being hated. Now I leave you to judge, whether I ought to be blamed for his sufferings? If I have deceived any one, let him complain; if I have broke my promise to any one, let him despair; if I encourage any one, let him presume; if I entertain any one, let him boast: but let not man call me cruel nor murderer, until I either deceive, break my promise, encourage, or entertain him. Heaven has not been pleased to show whether it is its will I should love by destiny, and it is vain to think I will ever do it by choice: so let this general caution serve every one of those who make their addresses to me for their own ends. And, if any one hereafter dies on my account, let not their jealousy, nor my scorn or hate, be thought the cause of their death; for she who never pretended to love, cannot make any one jealous, and a free and generous declaration of our fixed resolution ought not to be counted hate or disdain. In short, let him that calls me a tigress, and a basilisk, avoid me as a dangerous thing; and let him that calls me ungrateful, give over serving me; I assure them I will never seek nor pursue them. Therefore, let none hereafter make it their business to disturb my ease, nor strive to make me hazard among men the peace I now enjoy, which I am persuaded is not to be found with them. I have wealth enough: I neither love nor hate any one. The innocent conversation of the neighboring shepherdesses, with the care of my flocks, help me to pass away my time, without either coquetting with this man, or practising arts to ensnare that other. My thoughts are limited to these mountain; and if they wander further, it is only to admire the beauty of Heaven, and thus, by steps, to raise my soul towards her original dwelling."
That's way too long to fit into a tweet but it really should be the main reply to incels and misogynists and alpha cucks who believe women are without agency and simply sex objects for men.
Oh shit! Speaking of sex objects, let's see what Venus is up to!
Oh, she's just giving 900 year old men sponge baths.
Venus has gotten Godfrey out of his armor and into a bath where he can do the least harm when she hits him with the truth of himself: he's a cop named Bud Stafford presumed dead who used to belong to the Society for Creative Anachronisms. That would explain why he knows so many old timey quotes; he was a story nerd! Godfrey flips out but being naked and all slippery, he's unable to hurt Venus. She calms him down like he's a scared horse, tells him he's got a cute ass, and asks him to train her in the Order of the Garter.
Venus admits she has no idea who Cela is or where she came from. And Cela's no help because she's more full of delusional fantasy than Godfrey himself.
Later, Venus makes an adorable face.
Venus admits she has no idea who Cela is or where she came from. And Cela's no help because she's more full of delusional fantasy than Godfrey himself.
Later, Venus makes an adorable face.
I wrote so much with the Cervantes' quote, maybe I should just pad the rest of this with ridiculously cute shots of Venus?
Pretty sure I once reviewed a Supergirl issue by just posting panel after panel of her cute little behind because Mahmud Asrar was just nailing Supergirl's ass month after month. Erm, I mean, you know.
Detective Petronas drops by Venus's place as part of his investigation into the death of the Ash Wednesday killer. He's convinced himself Venus is the knight but only in that way where he also thinks, "But that's totally ridiculous, right? She's got great tits but an arm that could chop off somebody's head? No way!" Venus distracts him with her feminine wiles. No, not the nuclear feminine wiles where they stick their hand down the front of your pants and you gain temporary amnesia for 2-3 hours. She just kisses him and calls him "love" and suggests they get dinner later. He comes in his pants and forgets to arrest her.
At one of Venus's new jobs (not the one where she talks to nerds and then she wonders why it suddenly smells like Linden Trees but the one where she's now an actual reporter), she explains why she's taken on the other job (not the one where she explains why she's taken on this other one).
Detective Petronas drops by Venus's place as part of his investigation into the death of the Ash Wednesday killer. He's convinced himself Venus is the knight but only in that way where he also thinks, "But that's totally ridiculous, right? She's got great tits but an arm that could chop off somebody's head? No way!" Venus distracts him with her feminine wiles. No, not the nuclear feminine wiles where they stick their hand down the front of your pants and you gain temporary amnesia for 2-3 hours. She just kisses him and calls him "love" and suggests they get dinner later. He comes in his pants and forgets to arrest her.
At one of Venus's new jobs (not the one where she talks to nerds and then she wonders why it suddenly smells like Linden Trees but the one where she's now an actual reporter), she explains why she's taken on the other job (not the one where she explains why she's taken on this other one).
She's got a bit of a Francine from Strangers in Paradise vibe going on.
Francine was a sex object character too! For Katchoo!
So The Pope's attempt to start a casino in The City actually seems to be working its way to an end! It's the thread that started the entire series so I can see why Seagle would want to finish up with the knights shutting the thing down, either through violence or solid reporting!
Venus's co-worker, Russ, the one who got her the job, starts hitting on her too. But she, like Marcella, lays it all out on the line: she's not interested. But she does give him a lead on a huge story: Detective Petronas has caught the Ash Wednesday Killer but the police haven't revealed it yet. Venus has so many breaking stories that she's giving away career-makers for nothing!
Later that day, Venus snoops around the soon-to-be-opened casino looking for evidence of The Pope being behind it all. She winds up recording The Pope threatening Father Trinidad's life.
So The Pope's attempt to start a casino in The City actually seems to be working its way to an end! It's the thread that started the entire series so I can see why Seagle would want to finish up with the knights shutting the thing down, either through violence or solid reporting!
Venus's co-worker, Russ, the one who got her the job, starts hitting on her too. But she, like Marcella, lays it all out on the line: she's not interested. But she does give him a lead on a huge story: Detective Petronas has caught the Ash Wednesday Killer but the police haven't revealed it yet. Venus has so many breaking stories that she's giving away career-makers for nothing!
Later that day, Venus snoops around the soon-to-be-opened casino looking for evidence of The Pope being behind it all. She winds up recording The Pope threatening Father Trinidad's life.
Does this bitch not have any other clothes?!
Sorry! That was a playful use of the word bitch as in, "She's my girl but holy fuck does she have to wear what basically amounts to a red sports bra everywhere she goes? Especially when she's sneaking around recording crime bosses!"
After getting her story, Venus drops by a meeting of the Principality of the Mists (you know, San Francisco!) to be introduced by her co-worker Duane. During the meeting, she begins feeling him out to see if maybe he'd be interested in becoming the 3rd Knight of the Order of the Garter. Unless she's hinting that she wants to fuck him. I think the former but he's probably thinking the latter, what with Venus telling him, "You're obviously talented in other ways."
Later at dinner with Addas, Venus calmly walks him through how their relationship needs to begin if it's got any chance at all. She seems to genuinely like him but lets him know he's got some qualities that are planting red flags all over the place. So that's Venus's life at this moment: slowing Addas's roll, investigating The Pope, training to become a knight, and looking for more recruits.
After getting her story, Venus drops by a meeting of the Principality of the Mists (you know, San Francisco!) to be introduced by her co-worker Duane. During the meeting, she begins feeling him out to see if maybe he'd be interested in becoming the 3rd Knight of the Order of the Garter. Unless she's hinting that she wants to fuck him. I think the former but he's probably thinking the latter, what with Venus telling him, "You're obviously talented in other ways."
Later at dinner with Addas, Venus calmly walks him through how their relationship needs to begin if it's got any chance at all. She seems to genuinely like him but lets him know he's got some qualities that are planting red flags all over the place. So that's Venus's life at this moment: slowing Addas's roll, investigating The Pope, training to become a knight, and looking for more recruits.
Also this. I don't know where this falls into her routine but it's my favorite part.
Too bad that panel came so late into the series. I definitely would have used it for my banner!
Coming up quickly on the final issue, Seagle throws in a few pages that are basically montages: training, reporting, dating Addas, fending off Marx. It all culminates in Venus's ascent to knighthood.
Coming up quickly on the final issue, Seagle throws in a few pages that are basically montages: training, reporting, dating Addas, fending off Marx. It all culminates in Venus's ascent to knighthood.
Cela is still a total mystery. A cypher. An enigma. A blind leper.
It's only just now crossed my mind the parallels between Venus and Superman.
The Crusades #19 Rating: A. You don't know how fucking long I've been waiting for a moment to transcribe that Marcella bit from Don Quixote. I'd actually mostly forgotten about it until that Cervantes quote which made me remember my two favorite bits from Don Quixote: Sancho Panza shitting by Don Quixote's head and Marcella doing her Chasing Amy hockey parking lot speech to a bunch of incel shepherds. I think 20 issues of this series was just about right as it's still holding my interest and I'm having fun writing about it. Or whatever it is I do. Write about myself based on the comic sparking memories? This really is more of a memoir than a review. A memoir for some idiot who reviews comic books but doesn't even particularly seem to like the medium of comic books! No wonder nerds are always getting mad when I shit all over stuff they've grown up with and held sacred for so long, especially when I call their favorite DC mercenary character a pedophile! Ha ha! He totally is, you dumb fangenders!
The Crusades #19 Rating: A. You don't know how fucking long I've been waiting for a moment to transcribe that Marcella bit from Don Quixote. I'd actually mostly forgotten about it until that Cervantes quote which made me remember my two favorite bits from Don Quixote: Sancho Panza shitting by Don Quixote's head and Marcella doing her Chasing Amy hockey parking lot speech to a bunch of incel shepherds. I think 20 issues of this series was just about right as it's still holding my interest and I'm having fun writing about it. Or whatever it is I do. Write about myself based on the comic sparking memories? This really is more of a memoir than a review. A memoir for some idiot who reviews comic books but doesn't even particularly seem to like the medium of comic books! No wonder nerds are always getting mad when I shit all over stuff they've grown up with and held sacred for so long, especially when I call their favorite DC mercenary character a pedophile! Ha ha! He totally is, you dumb fangenders!
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