E!TACT! #23
Exit Stage Left: The Snagglepuss Chronicles #5, Deathstroke #31, Batman #46, DC Nation #0, Poetry Corner, Grunion Guy's Musical Corner of Music Reviews, and No Letters to Me!
By Grunion Guy
Comic Book Reviews!
Exit Stage Left: The Snagglepuss Chronicles #5, Deathstroke #31, Batman #46, DC Nation #0, Poetry Corner, Grunion Guy's Musical Corner of Music Reviews, and No Letters to Me!
By Grunion Guy
Comic Book Reviews!
Exit Stage Left: The Snagglepuss Chronicles #5
By Russell, Stilwell, Feehan, Vazquez, Parsons, Marzan Jr., Mounts, and Campbell
You know that feeling when a close friend doesn't like something you love? That feeling that insinuates itself into the heart of your being no matter how illogical or petty you know you're being simply because your friend didn't express the same unbounded joy for that cherished thing? That moment when you first realize they're the dumbest asshole on the planet and how could you ever have been friends with them for thirty wasted years? I have that feeling all of the time. But I don't express it because that would be crazy! I just marinate in small resentments, updating my will at every turn. Someday they'll all know what fucking stupid morons they all were!
People are legally obligated to listen to your will read by a stern lawyer, right? Is that a law or do I need to call some lawmakers to make sure that's a thing before I die? Because these so-called friends aren't getting off so easy, relaxing in their pleasant lives without a care in the world that they only half-listened to me when I was telling them about Elfquest in sixth grade and then didn't ask to borrow it so they could share in my enthusiasm for attractive elves riding powerful wolves! I wonder if I can force everybody to play Wizardry at my funeral while listening to Concrete Blonde and drinking Strawberry milk? Also I wish I loved more things so it doesn't sound like I stopped enjoying life at twelve years old!
In the non-hyperbolic reality outside of my blog and newsletter, I'm not the one who stopped enjoying things the way they were when I was twelve. But I'm also not the type of person who's an overblown fan desperately trying to prove how much they love the things they love. When Wil Wheaton says, "You're not a nerd because of the things you love but how you love them," I just want to grab him by the lapels and scream, "Stop encouraging them!" We have become a society where the thing you love must somehow remain the thing it was at the moment you began loving it (and you must also be the only one that loves that thing as much as you love that thing because obviously nobody else understands it the way you do (although you hate them for not understanding it the same way. How can they not?! (But then if they said they did, you'd think to yourself, "Pshaw. Poseur."))). We have no room for change or disappointment or different interpretations of our beloved (and static!) popular culture. When somebody posts on Facebook that they literally cried over the cancellation of Brooklyn Nine-Nine or that they will forever mourn it, I want to get them a book on evolution and a box of nipple clamps. I haven't yet proved that the retention of information from reading increases exponentially with nipple pain but my hopes are high (and my nipples bleeding).
When did we become a society that can't handle simple change while expecting such great change from civilization at large? How can we blame something like the House Un-American Activities Committee shitting themselves from their intense fear of a changing world when we can't even handle living with only five seasons of Brooklyn Nine-Nine?! How can we scoff at gun enthusiasts afraid that reasonable gun control won't wind up in the loss of all of their beloved weapons when we fucking lost our minds at only one season of Firefly?! Being a 2nd Amendment Freedom Fighter seeing news reports on another school shooting is probably exactly like being a Firefly fan who has to endure the death of Wash just to get the movie Serenity. Was it worth it?! That's an unanswerable philosophical conundrum!
I mean, sure, it can be frustrating having great popular culture killed by corporate monsters who can't understand art because it speaks to the struggles of life that they don't even know exist. But fans need to ask themselves why they need so much of the same thing repeated over and over again? Because fans don't only get angry when a show is cancelled. They also get angry when the show changes in any substantial way away from the exact thing they had grown to love. And in a world where fans have instant access to the creators, they expect their voices can be used to maintain the "integrity" of their beloved fictions. Sure, I disliked Metallica's black album because it was so different from their previous albums. That just meant I stopped listening to Metallica. I didn't demand they continue to be the thing I perceived them as being. And I was disappointed that I never saw Concrete Blonde live when they first broke up but it wasn't the end of the world. I still had the albums I loved. And it only made it all the more exciting when they regrouped and I got more of their music and finally saw them live (three and a half times even!). I guess my point is that I'm better than most people!
Or what I'm really trying to say is this isn't your childhood Snagglepuss and Huckleberry Hound. Unless, of course, you always knew they were gay and that Huckleberry Hound would hang himself, broken beyond repair, in an unkempt cheap apartment in New York City. Based on the cartoons, I wouldn't have been surprised if some "friend" of mine had ever suggested that. Also there's some crazily terrific stuff about life and civilization and politics and culture mixed into this comic book.
Rating: 5 out of 5 Thumbs. I hate Mark Russell for reasons that aren't at all based on my envy of what he's written in this issue. Here's only one small part of some truly marvelous bits: the speech Snagglepuss gives to the House Un-American Activities Committee (which I read after writing the previous rant (I say this because this comic speaks to the nature of fandom and its relation to the world which I didn't know when I wrote the preceding. It's weird how often my pre-comic book reading rants seem to intuit the story within (although not as weird with this one because this rant began by thinking about how one reviewer I read was annoyed that Mark Russell's Snagglepuss had barely anything in common with the cartoon (and how is that a slight?! The cartoon was vapid fluff!)))): "The purpose of art is subversion. Art is telling the world how it's killing you. How its institutions have failed you. In the end, any culture worth a damn is made by subversives. Because art is what tells the world it needs to change. Power merely redecorates it." I may have cried while reading that. It might have been the words but I can't be entirely sure it wasn't the nipple clamps.
P.S. More on Snagglepuss #5 (which I had to add as a postscript or else I couldn't end with that nice little nipple clamps callback)
The Snagglepuss bit I quoted in the previous paragraph cuts to the heart of one thing I return to in my blog again and again: "Art is telling the world how it's killing you. How its institutions have failed you." My main complaint with the world is that it doesn't make room for those who can't simply accept things the way they are. I have railed against just about every expectation society seems to demand from me. I began reading Frankenstein for the first time last week and on the first day, I only read the quote used on the title page because it completely derailed me. It was from Milton's Paradise Lost: "Did I request thee, Maker, from my clay to mould me man, Did I solicit thee from darkness to promote me?" It stopped me cold because, ultimately, when I am thoroughly disappointed with the way people are expected to live, I rage against my parents for giving birth to me. And here is a quote from Milton (who I've been pretty hard on (not in a gay way! (I know that didn't make sense. I should work harder on my gay jokes (not in a gay way!))) where he's basically putting his arm around me and saying, "Brother. Let's commiserate." Of course, he'd be all, "God blah blah God blah blah blah God!" And I'd be all, "Why is so much of life all about interacting with other people?!" And he'd be all, "God blah blah blah God blah God blah blah." And I'd be all, "Why can't people see I don't know how to be a person?!" And then he'd "glare" at me and I'd have to think about what I just said and then be all, "Oh! Whoa, I didn't mean to be ableist in my speech, bro! I mean brother!"
I don't mean to suggest that I feel our current social constructs are such a burden to me that I can barely function. I've carved my own niche into the existing paradigm where I can mostly hide away and not be bothered by it. But I do suffer, occasionally, from a kind of social vertigo. It usually comes across me like a sort of anxious unheimlich (that doesn't mean a Jewish lich. Also, I don't know what it means. So, you know, it might mean that) feeling when I spend too long in a "socially normal" setting. I begin to see the world most people live in and how outside of their sense of comfort I have fallen. I see myself through their eyes and how my lack of the things they take for granted would worry them, or make their lives so radically different that they'd lose all sense of direction. And for days afterward, I feel those feelings as my own. It's one of the reasons I'd rather have my friend Doom Bunny visit me in Portland than me visit him and his family in Denver.
Anyway, I'm about to read Frankenstein and I think it might cause some feelings in much the same way Snagglepuss has. Did that sound dirty?
Deathstork #31
By Priest, Pagulayan, Viacava, Paz, and Cox
Rating: 2.5 out of 5 Bat-whatevers. I guess Batman and Deathstork are having another beef. But this time, Alfred and Wintergreen are pulling the strings. I guess they want them to get along? Ultimately, I imagine Priest is telling the story that will explain why Batman allows Deathstork to continue killing. It might be because Joseph will wind up being Damian's half-brother.
Priest's best new Batman idea is to have him explain his detective work in convoluted and unbelievable ways only for the reader to find out that the real detective work was something super simple. It's such a simple way to retcon the entire Bat-history, making every story you've ever read where you scream "No way!" at Batman's explanation about how he found out something (like finding where Catwoman lives based on mouse poop) suddenly believable. Now you can believe he actually found out where Catwoman lived by doing a reverse address search on the Internet for the name Selina Kyle.
But he still definitely pissed himself in The Widening Gyre #6!
Batman #46
By King, Daniel, and Morey
Rating: I like to think that every time Booster Gold goes missing in the DC Universe for months or years at a time, this story is why. He's off dicking around in another timeline. I doubt this entire story began as Booster Gold trying to get a gift for Batman. That's just his excuse to fuck with time and have an adventure. That's why he's enjoying it so much and acting so goofy. It's like he's in a theme park and he can go home any time he wants to.
I know I'm usually hard on the other review sites and the major fan-genders who run those sites but I suppose I can see why they might hate this story. First off, it's so absolutely outside of canon that, to them, it's not even worth reading. Of course by "canon," I mean part of a continuous and linear Batman story of issues they've chosen to believe were the most significant and not-written-by-Tom-King ones. Obviously this story will always be "canon" to Booster Gold. It's his story. Plus those types of fans take everything way too seriously. This issue can do nothing but confuse them since it's so violent and violence equals gravitas and chin stroking boners! But in the end, it's really just a whimsical sitcom starring Booster Gold as the selfish asshole who is entertaining himself in a world that doesn't matter. It's why he enjoyed watching Jokerized Hal Jordan shoot himself in the head. Because it didn't matter.
Playing "hero" in alternate timelines is Booster Gold's heroin. 5 out of 5 Skeets.
DC Nation #0
By A Bunch of People
The first story is a Batman story by Tom King. It's full of old jokes because it stars the Joker. Although he asks a couple of riddles which seems like maybe he's treading on other people's turf. Not that I'd complain about it to him since a riddle is also a joke. But not all jokes are riddles. And it's not like The Joker should have to stop telling jokes which are riddles just because some other jerk came along and decided to specialize in riddles. Anyway, it all works out in the end for The Joker, I guess.
The second story is a Superman story by Bendis. It begins perfectly with J. Jonah Jameson telling all of his reporters that they have to stop editorializing on Superman and spreading fear to the readers. Although if they want to write some scathing indictments about Spider-man, they should totally go ahead and do that. Especially if Parker comes in with a shot of Spider-man doing anything that looks suspicious (which is everything he does or why else would he wear that stupid mask?).
Anyway, it's about time somebody decides to quash the Superman Hot Take Culture that has sprung up in the DC Universe. Everybody suddenly thinks they're critical geniuses just because they once thought, "What if Superman were the bad guy?" and then shit themselves. Superman isn't the bad guy, guys. Let's just stop worrying about that. Although if everybody is going to agree on that, a whole bunch of writers are going to have to agree to stop writing stories where Superman becomes hypnotized or controlled by magic or infused with the Doomsday Virus or Jokerized by The Joker. Because all those "editorials" that J. Perry Jamesite has suddenly become critical of might have a point in a DC Universe controlled by lazy writers.
The rest of the story is some kind of prologue to Bendis's Superman story where he probably gets to rewrite any continuity he wants to rewrite (this prologue alone reminds us that there was a time Luthor was president). That's fine with me if it's any good. I hear he's supposed to be good. I am so going to judge him!
The third story is a No Justice prelude by Snyder, Tynion IV, and Williamson. That means I'm already bored. I bet somebody uses a word that not many people are familiar with and then somebody else defines the word and then somebody else mentions another definition of the word and that explains the whole premise of the story.
That isn't what happens (although Snyder does take the term "emotion" and use it to base the structure of the story which is pretty close to what I said he would do). But what happens is still quite Snyderesque. Once again, the entire universe is on the brink of destruction. The only way for the Justice League to save it from not one terrible alien threat but four Galactus-sized alien threats is to form four new Justice Leagues. Each team is based on "the four cosmic energies." And we all know what those are right? Right: entropy, mystery, wonder, and wisdom. Totally makes sense.
This prologue reveals that the composition of the four new Justice League teams makes no sense before fans begin asking, "How does any of this make sense?" Apparently not making any sense was the only way to fight the Omega Titans. But what's also revealed is that while all the heroes and villains are off saving the universe, the Omega Titans have come to destroy Earth. Whoops!
Ranking: How can I rank a book of three prologues?! It's basically an advertisement for DC's future stories. And I thought I was getting a comic book for cheap. What really happened is that I just paid twenty-five cents for an advertisement! Bastards!
By Russell, Stilwell, Feehan, Vazquez, Parsons, Marzan Jr., Mounts, and Campbell
You know that feeling when a close friend doesn't like something you love? That feeling that insinuates itself into the heart of your being no matter how illogical or petty you know you're being simply because your friend didn't express the same unbounded joy for that cherished thing? That moment when you first realize they're the dumbest asshole on the planet and how could you ever have been friends with them for thirty wasted years? I have that feeling all of the time. But I don't express it because that would be crazy! I just marinate in small resentments, updating my will at every turn. Someday they'll all know what fucking stupid morons they all were!
People are legally obligated to listen to your will read by a stern lawyer, right? Is that a law or do I need to call some lawmakers to make sure that's a thing before I die? Because these so-called friends aren't getting off so easy, relaxing in their pleasant lives without a care in the world that they only half-listened to me when I was telling them about Elfquest in sixth grade and then didn't ask to borrow it so they could share in my enthusiasm for attractive elves riding powerful wolves! I wonder if I can force everybody to play Wizardry at my funeral while listening to Concrete Blonde and drinking Strawberry milk? Also I wish I loved more things so it doesn't sound like I stopped enjoying life at twelve years old!
In the non-hyperbolic reality outside of my blog and newsletter, I'm not the one who stopped enjoying things the way they were when I was twelve. But I'm also not the type of person who's an overblown fan desperately trying to prove how much they love the things they love. When Wil Wheaton says, "You're not a nerd because of the things you love but how you love them," I just want to grab him by the lapels and scream, "Stop encouraging them!" We have become a society where the thing you love must somehow remain the thing it was at the moment you began loving it (and you must also be the only one that loves that thing as much as you love that thing because obviously nobody else understands it the way you do (although you hate them for not understanding it the same way. How can they not?! (But then if they said they did, you'd think to yourself, "Pshaw. Poseur."))). We have no room for change or disappointment or different interpretations of our beloved (and static!) popular culture. When somebody posts on Facebook that they literally cried over the cancellation of Brooklyn Nine-Nine or that they will forever mourn it, I want to get them a book on evolution and a box of nipple clamps. I haven't yet proved that the retention of information from reading increases exponentially with nipple pain but my hopes are high (and my nipples bleeding).
When did we become a society that can't handle simple change while expecting such great change from civilization at large? How can we blame something like the House Un-American Activities Committee shitting themselves from their intense fear of a changing world when we can't even handle living with only five seasons of Brooklyn Nine-Nine?! How can we scoff at gun enthusiasts afraid that reasonable gun control won't wind up in the loss of all of their beloved weapons when we fucking lost our minds at only one season of Firefly?! Being a 2nd Amendment Freedom Fighter seeing news reports on another school shooting is probably exactly like being a Firefly fan who has to endure the death of Wash just to get the movie Serenity. Was it worth it?! That's an unanswerable philosophical conundrum!
I mean, sure, it can be frustrating having great popular culture killed by corporate monsters who can't understand art because it speaks to the struggles of life that they don't even know exist. But fans need to ask themselves why they need so much of the same thing repeated over and over again? Because fans don't only get angry when a show is cancelled. They also get angry when the show changes in any substantial way away from the exact thing they had grown to love. And in a world where fans have instant access to the creators, they expect their voices can be used to maintain the "integrity" of their beloved fictions. Sure, I disliked Metallica's black album because it was so different from their previous albums. That just meant I stopped listening to Metallica. I didn't demand they continue to be the thing I perceived them as being. And I was disappointed that I never saw Concrete Blonde live when they first broke up but it wasn't the end of the world. I still had the albums I loved. And it only made it all the more exciting when they regrouped and I got more of their music and finally saw them live (three and a half times even!). I guess my point is that I'm better than most people!
Or what I'm really trying to say is this isn't your childhood Snagglepuss and Huckleberry Hound. Unless, of course, you always knew they were gay and that Huckleberry Hound would hang himself, broken beyond repair, in an unkempt cheap apartment in New York City. Based on the cartoons, I wouldn't have been surprised if some "friend" of mine had ever suggested that. Also there's some crazily terrific stuff about life and civilization and politics and culture mixed into this comic book.
Rating: 5 out of 5 Thumbs. I hate Mark Russell for reasons that aren't at all based on my envy of what he's written in this issue. Here's only one small part of some truly marvelous bits: the speech Snagglepuss gives to the House Un-American Activities Committee (which I read after writing the previous rant (I say this because this comic speaks to the nature of fandom and its relation to the world which I didn't know when I wrote the preceding. It's weird how often my pre-comic book reading rants seem to intuit the story within (although not as weird with this one because this rant began by thinking about how one reviewer I read was annoyed that Mark Russell's Snagglepuss had barely anything in common with the cartoon (and how is that a slight?! The cartoon was vapid fluff!)))): "The purpose of art is subversion. Art is telling the world how it's killing you. How its institutions have failed you. In the end, any culture worth a damn is made by subversives. Because art is what tells the world it needs to change. Power merely redecorates it." I may have cried while reading that. It might have been the words but I can't be entirely sure it wasn't the nipple clamps.
P.S. More on Snagglepuss #5 (which I had to add as a postscript or else I couldn't end with that nice little nipple clamps callback)
The Snagglepuss bit I quoted in the previous paragraph cuts to the heart of one thing I return to in my blog again and again: "Art is telling the world how it's killing you. How its institutions have failed you." My main complaint with the world is that it doesn't make room for those who can't simply accept things the way they are. I have railed against just about every expectation society seems to demand from me. I began reading Frankenstein for the first time last week and on the first day, I only read the quote used on the title page because it completely derailed me. It was from Milton's Paradise Lost: "Did I request thee, Maker, from my clay to mould me man, Did I solicit thee from darkness to promote me?" It stopped me cold because, ultimately, when I am thoroughly disappointed with the way people are expected to live, I rage against my parents for giving birth to me. And here is a quote from Milton (who I've been pretty hard on (not in a gay way! (I know that didn't make sense. I should work harder on my gay jokes (not in a gay way!))) where he's basically putting his arm around me and saying, "Brother. Let's commiserate." Of course, he'd be all, "God blah blah God blah blah blah God!" And I'd be all, "Why is so much of life all about interacting with other people?!" And he'd be all, "God blah blah blah God blah God blah blah." And I'd be all, "Why can't people see I don't know how to be a person?!" And then he'd "glare" at me and I'd have to think about what I just said and then be all, "Oh! Whoa, I didn't mean to be ableist in my speech, bro! I mean brother!"
I don't mean to suggest that I feel our current social constructs are such a burden to me that I can barely function. I've carved my own niche into the existing paradigm where I can mostly hide away and not be bothered by it. But I do suffer, occasionally, from a kind of social vertigo. It usually comes across me like a sort of anxious unheimlich (that doesn't mean a Jewish lich. Also, I don't know what it means. So, you know, it might mean that) feeling when I spend too long in a "socially normal" setting. I begin to see the world most people live in and how outside of their sense of comfort I have fallen. I see myself through their eyes and how my lack of the things they take for granted would worry them, or make their lives so radically different that they'd lose all sense of direction. And for days afterward, I feel those feelings as my own. It's one of the reasons I'd rather have my friend Doom Bunny visit me in Portland than me visit him and his family in Denver.
Anyway, I'm about to read Frankenstein and I think it might cause some feelings in much the same way Snagglepuss has. Did that sound dirty?
Deathstork #31
By Priest, Pagulayan, Viacava, Paz, and Cox
Rating: 2.5 out of 5 Bat-whatevers. I guess Batman and Deathstork are having another beef. But this time, Alfred and Wintergreen are pulling the strings. I guess they want them to get along? Ultimately, I imagine Priest is telling the story that will explain why Batman allows Deathstork to continue killing. It might be because Joseph will wind up being Damian's half-brother.
Priest's best new Batman idea is to have him explain his detective work in convoluted and unbelievable ways only for the reader to find out that the real detective work was something super simple. It's such a simple way to retcon the entire Bat-history, making every story you've ever read where you scream "No way!" at Batman's explanation about how he found out something (like finding where Catwoman lives based on mouse poop) suddenly believable. Now you can believe he actually found out where Catwoman lived by doing a reverse address search on the Internet for the name Selina Kyle.
But he still definitely pissed himself in The Widening Gyre #6!
Batman #46
By King, Daniel, and Morey
Rating: I like to think that every time Booster Gold goes missing in the DC Universe for months or years at a time, this story is why. He's off dicking around in another timeline. I doubt this entire story began as Booster Gold trying to get a gift for Batman. That's just his excuse to fuck with time and have an adventure. That's why he's enjoying it so much and acting so goofy. It's like he's in a theme park and he can go home any time he wants to.
I know I'm usually hard on the other review sites and the major fan-genders who run those sites but I suppose I can see why they might hate this story. First off, it's so absolutely outside of canon that, to them, it's not even worth reading. Of course by "canon," I mean part of a continuous and linear Batman story of issues they've chosen to believe were the most significant and not-written-by-Tom-King ones. Obviously this story will always be "canon" to Booster Gold. It's his story. Plus those types of fans take everything way too seriously. This issue can do nothing but confuse them since it's so violent and violence equals gravitas and chin stroking boners! But in the end, it's really just a whimsical sitcom starring Booster Gold as the selfish asshole who is entertaining himself in a world that doesn't matter. It's why he enjoyed watching Jokerized Hal Jordan shoot himself in the head. Because it didn't matter.
Playing "hero" in alternate timelines is Booster Gold's heroin. 5 out of 5 Skeets.
DC Nation #0
By A Bunch of People
The first story is a Batman story by Tom King. It's full of old jokes because it stars the Joker. Although he asks a couple of riddles which seems like maybe he's treading on other people's turf. Not that I'd complain about it to him since a riddle is also a joke. But not all jokes are riddles. And it's not like The Joker should have to stop telling jokes which are riddles just because some other jerk came along and decided to specialize in riddles. Anyway, it all works out in the end for The Joker, I guess.
The second story is a Superman story by Bendis. It begins perfectly with J. Jonah Jameson telling all of his reporters that they have to stop editorializing on Superman and spreading fear to the readers. Although if they want to write some scathing indictments about Spider-man, they should totally go ahead and do that. Especially if Parker comes in with a shot of Spider-man doing anything that looks suspicious (which is everything he does or why else would he wear that stupid mask?).
Anyway, it's about time somebody decides to quash the Superman Hot Take Culture that has sprung up in the DC Universe. Everybody suddenly thinks they're critical geniuses just because they once thought, "What if Superman were the bad guy?" and then shit themselves. Superman isn't the bad guy, guys. Let's just stop worrying about that. Although if everybody is going to agree on that, a whole bunch of writers are going to have to agree to stop writing stories where Superman becomes hypnotized or controlled by magic or infused with the Doomsday Virus or Jokerized by The Joker. Because all those "editorials" that J. Perry Jamesite has suddenly become critical of might have a point in a DC Universe controlled by lazy writers.
The rest of the story is some kind of prologue to Bendis's Superman story where he probably gets to rewrite any continuity he wants to rewrite (this prologue alone reminds us that there was a time Luthor was president). That's fine with me if it's any good. I hear he's supposed to be good. I am so going to judge him!
The third story is a No Justice prelude by Snyder, Tynion IV, and Williamson. That means I'm already bored. I bet somebody uses a word that not many people are familiar with and then somebody else defines the word and then somebody else mentions another definition of the word and that explains the whole premise of the story.
That isn't what happens (although Snyder does take the term "emotion" and use it to base the structure of the story which is pretty close to what I said he would do). But what happens is still quite Snyderesque. Once again, the entire universe is on the brink of destruction. The only way for the Justice League to save it from not one terrible alien threat but four Galactus-sized alien threats is to form four new Justice Leagues. Each team is based on "the four cosmic energies." And we all know what those are right? Right: entropy, mystery, wonder, and wisdom. Totally makes sense.
This prologue reveals that the composition of the four new Justice League teams makes no sense before fans begin asking, "How does any of this make sense?" Apparently not making any sense was the only way to fight the Omega Titans. But what's also revealed is that while all the heroes and villains are off saving the universe, the Omega Titans have come to destroy Earth. Whoops!
Ranking: How can I rank a book of three prologues?! It's basically an advertisement for DC's future stories. And I thought I was getting a comic book for cheap. What really happened is that I just paid twenty-five cents for an advertisement! Bastards!
* * * * * * * * * *
Poetry Corner with Grunion Guy!
A Poem
This is a
poem. You can
tell by the way the
lines are all out of whack.
Also,
Sometimes,
You'll notice weird capitalization and odd,
commas. Some poems
use analogy or metaphor to
engage the reader's emotions
in a way that bluntly stating the
point can't do.
But this one doesn't. It's
exactly what it says it is.
Or is it?
This is a
poem. You can
tell by the way the
lines are all out of whack.
Also,
Sometimes,
You'll notice weird capitalization and odd,
commas. Some poems
use analogy or metaphor to
engage the reader's emotions
in a way that bluntly stating the
point can't do.
But this one doesn't. It's
exactly what it says it is.
Or is it?
* * * * * * * * * *
Grunion Guy's Musical Corner of Music Reviews!
Grunion Guy's Musical Corner of Music Reviews!
...And the Gods Made Love by The Jimi Hendrix Experience
I purchased Electric Ladyland because it was the favorite album of my online friend Groot. Groot is dead now. He died last year. I never met him in real life so his death is as abstract as it can get. He was always kind and always interested in having a conversation. Some people online just want to tell you the things they want to tell you (stop looking at me like that, mirror) but he was always completely interested in learning new things about his friends. We knew each other for over a decade before I learned that for a few years in the 70s, he lived in Santa Clara where I grew up. I was just a kid then so we probably never would have come into contact. But who knows?! Maybe we once rode in the same coaster on The Whizzer at Marriott's Great America!
Anyway, Groot declared Electric Ladyland his favorite album so I purchased it. For the most part, I like it but in that appreciative way that you give space to a thing because you know a friend really loves it. It's not really the kind of music I can groove to. Not that I "groove" in the way you're probably thinking I might groove. I often skip songs from this album when they come on shuffle, especially "Voodoo Chile" because it makes me hungry. Also because, at nearly fifteen minutes, it's just way too long to listen to ("2112" gets the same treatment). I think you need to be on acid when you listen to that song because that's the only way you'd never know you were listening to one single song for a quarter of an hour. But no matter how often I don't really listen to any of the songs on this album, I will forever keep it on my shuffle because of Groot.
Hmm. That makes Groot sound like a dick, as if he's handcuffed me to something I'd rather live without. I guess if you're a cynical bastard looking for a hot take, that's one direction you can go with that statement. But mostly I'll keep the album around because it makes me think of Groot.
As for this song, it's not really a song, exactly. It's more like a statement saying, "Here comes Jimi, you stupid bitches! Are you ready? No, seriously. Are you ready? I don't think you're ready! You'd better get ready! HERE HE COMES!" Then "Have You Ever Been To (Electric Ladyland)" comes on and I'm always all, "No! I haven't! It sounds cool and sexy!"
I just realized that Guardians of the Galaxy is absolutely never going to not be the saddest movie I'll ever watch because Rocket reminds me of my cat Judas and Groot reminds me of a tree. I mean Groot.
Grade: C.
Haunted by Poe
I first heard this song at the end of Blair Witch 2: The Blair Witchening. At the time, I had either already read House of Leaves or was currently reading it. I knew about Poe and that she had an album that was a companion piece to her brother's book but had yet to purchase it. This song has the lyric, "Here in November in this house of leaves we'll pray." But even before that, I was thinking, "Is this from that House of Leaves album?" because she just nails the atmosphere of the book. After that lyric, I was fairly certain of it and it wasn't long after that that I bought the album (Yes, Doom Bunny. I bought the album before you got me a copy. For awhile, the Non-Certified Spouse and I had two copies).
This song does everything Blair Witch 2: The Goth Chick is Hot didn't do. It evokes emotion and atmosphere. It's creepy and heart-wrenching. It's mysterious and suspenseful. It also tells a more coherent story. I wonder if the writer of Blair Witch 2: What the Fuck Were They Thinking? sat through the premiere feeling pretty good about themselves right up until this song began playing after which they stood up and slit their throat wide open.
Apparently Poe was thankful to Portland, Oregon for helping make this album a big hit because "Hey Pretty" got a ton of radio play on some local station. So she played a special concert in a small club (I think it may have even been a small bar with a stage!) that I was able to attend. How I managed to get tickets to this small show, I have no idea. I got just as lucky with my first Concrete Blonde show and then when I saw Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds. When I found out he was in town playing The Crystal Ballroom, the show was sold out. But then he canceled the concert because it wasn't long after Bush went to war with Iraq and Nick Cave refused to tour America at the time. But I knew he'd be back so I kept an eye out for his new dates and got tickets when he returned not too long after that. I guess he needed the cash and/or America's declaration of war wasn't valid enough to keep him out of the country for ethical reasons.
Grade: A.
Triggerman by Alice Cooper
This song is from the album Dragontown which is really just Brutal Planet Part II. That's not a great thing because I wasn't a huge fan of Brutal Planet Part I (which was just called Brutal Planet). This album was released on September 18, 2001, which meant everybody was happy to forget about 9/11 at that precise moment. But after listening to the album a few times, everybody decided maybe the album didn't quite fix the world and maybe they were a bit rash in expecting an Alice Cooper album to cure all the ills of the world.
"Triggerman" is about an assassin who doesn't have any body parts but he's still really good at killing people somehow. It's possible the not having any body parts is some kind of metaphor. Although Triggerman, who sings the song, also points out that he doesn't exist. So how he does all the killing, I don't know! I'm so confused. If somebody who doesn't exist kills you, are you really dead?
Leave it to Alice Cooper to really get his fans thinking! Like after listening to "Cold Ethyl," his fans think, "Is he fucking a corpse?" And then after listening to "I Love the Dead," his fan's think, "Is he fucking a corpse?" Then after listening to "It's Much Too Late," his fans think, "Wait. Is this a religious song? Is that corpse fucker preaching to me?!"
Grade: C-.
I Am Not A Robot by Marina and the Diamonds
When this song comes on the Shuffle, I usually listen to it at least five times in a row before moving on to a new song. I just love it so much. You know how much you're supposed to love people? No, seriously, I'm asking because I don't know and can't tell you. But whatever that amount is, it's probably how much I love this song. Again, I can't say for certain because I don't know how people actually love other, real people. How do you love something that betrays every aspect of what you want to believe they are (which you projected onto them) just by opening their autonomous and sentient and stupid mouths? Stop proving that you're not worth the pedestal I've put you on, you individual! Be what I want you to be!
Well, this song is excellent at being what I want it to be. It's perfect. If it were to be hit by a car, I would lie in bed for three weeks straight crying while declaring that I will never love another song again as long as I live.
Grade: A+.
Absorbing Man by Ookla the Mok
This song counts as a song a little bit more than that Jimi Hendrix song but not by a lot more. I mean, I can't argue that this isn't a song. But it's much shorter than "...And the Gods Made Love" by about a full minute. How does Jimi have a song that's basically a long chord (unless it's a robot goat screeching?) but is still longer than an actual song that has a melody and a verse or two? Maybe this is less a song and more of a joke that's being told with some guitars and some sing-song sentences? All this song does is point out that the childhood insult "I'm rubber and you're glue" only makes sense if the two people engaged in the rubber/glue conflict have the powers of Absorbing Man. There. You've pretty much heard the entire song. Just imagine that being sung by a couple of nerds who are actually really good at harmonizing and writing music.
Grade: B.
I purchased Electric Ladyland because it was the favorite album of my online friend Groot. Groot is dead now. He died last year. I never met him in real life so his death is as abstract as it can get. He was always kind and always interested in having a conversation. Some people online just want to tell you the things they want to tell you (stop looking at me like that, mirror) but he was always completely interested in learning new things about his friends. We knew each other for over a decade before I learned that for a few years in the 70s, he lived in Santa Clara where I grew up. I was just a kid then so we probably never would have come into contact. But who knows?! Maybe we once rode in the same coaster on The Whizzer at Marriott's Great America!
Anyway, Groot declared Electric Ladyland his favorite album so I purchased it. For the most part, I like it but in that appreciative way that you give space to a thing because you know a friend really loves it. It's not really the kind of music I can groove to. Not that I "groove" in the way you're probably thinking I might groove. I often skip songs from this album when they come on shuffle, especially "Voodoo Chile" because it makes me hungry. Also because, at nearly fifteen minutes, it's just way too long to listen to ("2112" gets the same treatment). I think you need to be on acid when you listen to that song because that's the only way you'd never know you were listening to one single song for a quarter of an hour. But no matter how often I don't really listen to any of the songs on this album, I will forever keep it on my shuffle because of Groot.
Hmm. That makes Groot sound like a dick, as if he's handcuffed me to something I'd rather live without. I guess if you're a cynical bastard looking for a hot take, that's one direction you can go with that statement. But mostly I'll keep the album around because it makes me think of Groot.
As for this song, it's not really a song, exactly. It's more like a statement saying, "Here comes Jimi, you stupid bitches! Are you ready? No, seriously. Are you ready? I don't think you're ready! You'd better get ready! HERE HE COMES!" Then "Have You Ever Been To (Electric Ladyland)" comes on and I'm always all, "No! I haven't! It sounds cool and sexy!"
I just realized that Guardians of the Galaxy is absolutely never going to not be the saddest movie I'll ever watch because Rocket reminds me of my cat Judas and Groot reminds me of a tree. I mean Groot.
Grade: C.
Haunted by Poe
I first heard this song at the end of Blair Witch 2: The Blair Witchening. At the time, I had either already read House of Leaves or was currently reading it. I knew about Poe and that she had an album that was a companion piece to her brother's book but had yet to purchase it. This song has the lyric, "Here in November in this house of leaves we'll pray." But even before that, I was thinking, "Is this from that House of Leaves album?" because she just nails the atmosphere of the book. After that lyric, I was fairly certain of it and it wasn't long after that that I bought the album (Yes, Doom Bunny. I bought the album before you got me a copy. For awhile, the Non-Certified Spouse and I had two copies).
This song does everything Blair Witch 2: The Goth Chick is Hot didn't do. It evokes emotion and atmosphere. It's creepy and heart-wrenching. It's mysterious and suspenseful. It also tells a more coherent story. I wonder if the writer of Blair Witch 2: What the Fuck Were They Thinking? sat through the premiere feeling pretty good about themselves right up until this song began playing after which they stood up and slit their throat wide open.
Apparently Poe was thankful to Portland, Oregon for helping make this album a big hit because "Hey Pretty" got a ton of radio play on some local station. So she played a special concert in a small club (I think it may have even been a small bar with a stage!) that I was able to attend. How I managed to get tickets to this small show, I have no idea. I got just as lucky with my first Concrete Blonde show and then when I saw Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds. When I found out he was in town playing The Crystal Ballroom, the show was sold out. But then he canceled the concert because it wasn't long after Bush went to war with Iraq and Nick Cave refused to tour America at the time. But I knew he'd be back so I kept an eye out for his new dates and got tickets when he returned not too long after that. I guess he needed the cash and/or America's declaration of war wasn't valid enough to keep him out of the country for ethical reasons.
Grade: A.
Triggerman by Alice Cooper
This song is from the album Dragontown which is really just Brutal Planet Part II. That's not a great thing because I wasn't a huge fan of Brutal Planet Part I (which was just called Brutal Planet). This album was released on September 18, 2001, which meant everybody was happy to forget about 9/11 at that precise moment. But after listening to the album a few times, everybody decided maybe the album didn't quite fix the world and maybe they were a bit rash in expecting an Alice Cooper album to cure all the ills of the world.
"Triggerman" is about an assassin who doesn't have any body parts but he's still really good at killing people somehow. It's possible the not having any body parts is some kind of metaphor. Although Triggerman, who sings the song, also points out that he doesn't exist. So how he does all the killing, I don't know! I'm so confused. If somebody who doesn't exist kills you, are you really dead?
Leave it to Alice Cooper to really get his fans thinking! Like after listening to "Cold Ethyl," his fans think, "Is he fucking a corpse?" And then after listening to "I Love the Dead," his fan's think, "Is he fucking a corpse?" Then after listening to "It's Much Too Late," his fans think, "Wait. Is this a religious song? Is that corpse fucker preaching to me?!"
Grade: C-.
I Am Not A Robot by Marina and the Diamonds
When this song comes on the Shuffle, I usually listen to it at least five times in a row before moving on to a new song. I just love it so much. You know how much you're supposed to love people? No, seriously, I'm asking because I don't know and can't tell you. But whatever that amount is, it's probably how much I love this song. Again, I can't say for certain because I don't know how people actually love other, real people. How do you love something that betrays every aspect of what you want to believe they are (which you projected onto them) just by opening their autonomous and sentient and stupid mouths? Stop proving that you're not worth the pedestal I've put you on, you individual! Be what I want you to be!
Well, this song is excellent at being what I want it to be. It's perfect. If it were to be hit by a car, I would lie in bed for three weeks straight crying while declaring that I will never love another song again as long as I live.
Grade: A+.
Absorbing Man by Ookla the Mok
This song counts as a song a little bit more than that Jimi Hendrix song but not by a lot more. I mean, I can't argue that this isn't a song. But it's much shorter than "...And the Gods Made Love" by about a full minute. How does Jimi have a song that's basically a long chord (unless it's a robot goat screeching?) but is still longer than an actual song that has a melody and a verse or two? Maybe this is less a song and more of a joke that's being told with some guitars and some sing-song sentences? All this song does is point out that the childhood insult "I'm rubber and you're glue" only makes sense if the two people engaged in the rubber/glue conflict have the powers of Absorbing Man. There. You've pretty much heard the entire song. Just imagine that being sung by a couple of nerds who are actually really good at harmonizing and writing music.
Grade: B.
* * * * * * * * * *
No Letters to Me!
No Letters to Me!
Whatever. Bastards.
No comments:
Post a Comment