Dead Again #5 (October 2001)

Mystic characters are the centrists of the DC Universe.

I used to think business people didn't think twice about us artistic types who live life foolishly with the winds of whimsy blowing us in chaotic directions. It wasn't until the last decade or so that I began to realize they think about us all of the fucking time. They can't stop thinking about us. I always thought they were happy just making loads of money like it was their kink and they couldn't get off any other way. But that's not it, is it? They were bamboozled by society into thinking that they had to strive for more and more money, devoting all of their time into earning so that they'd eventually have some free time to live life. But then they saw all of these other people slumming it at jobs that didn't destroy their souls so that they'd have plenty of free time to pursue art or activities that they actually enjoy. They saw that money doesn't equal freedom; freedom equals freedom! And they thought, "We can't let these people get away with enjoying life. I fucked it all up so now I'm going to fuck it up for them too." And so they making money was no longer their kink; making the world way more expensive to fuck with the free wheelers was. And the reason they're all so into Artificial Intelligence even though it's a huge money sink that will eventually ruin the environment completely is because they can use it to punish artistic people even further. They've built a plagiarism machine that doesn't even make them money but they're super into it because, hey, guess what? Those people whose rent we've hiked astronomically who are struggling now to afford the basic necessities of life? We're going to start taking their jobs too! Ha ha! Suck it, you people who actually know how to enjoy life!

Maybe I'm being too paranoid but it just seems to me rich people aren't exactly having fun. Sure, they can buy loads of drugs and hookers. But guess what? Poor people do drugs and fuck too! They just do them for free or at lower prices. I think business people never learned to love anything at whatever crucial stage of development people begin to fall in love with artistic and enjoyable and time-wasting things. They were probably too busy trying to get their daddies to love them by reciting all of the presidents in order or starting up a shit small business that everybody would fawn over. "Oh look! Little William Brady the Third is selling bottles of Perrier in front of the house for twice their normal cost and the neighbors we paid to buy his product are queuing up like crazy! Eventually, we might be proud of him and love him if his success ever doesn't depend on our money!"

In this equation, the Middle Class are those who spent time doing their fun shit in their 20s and early 30s before throwing in the towel to earn enough for a house and family while trading in their passions for alcohol. Do I blame them for keeping this bullshit Status Quo that dumps on anybody who doesn't want life to be a constant struggle? Yes, yes I do.

Deadman and I have something in common because he's forgotten the first four issues as well. Sure, I just read them. But I didn't retain them! Who has the brain space for that? I have to remember the lyrics to every Schoolhouse Rock episode I saw as a kid and every Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints songs that told me to tell the truth and not to lie and taught me how to soak. I don't have any fucking space for something Steve Vance wrote. Who the fuck is this Steve Vance anyway?

Oh! Would you look at that? He wrote and illustrated some of DC's Big Books! That's cool, I guess. He's cool. You're cool, Steve. But you're still not getting any space in my brain.

Currently, Deadman is arguing with Rama Kushna.

Oh, you really, really wanted something. I guess it's okay to ruin somebody's life then.

I'm not saying Rama Kushna's right about Deadman interfering with this guy's life. Things happen all the time that we have no control over and who's to say one way or another who's responsible. But I do find myself losing some respect for Deadman when his argument against the potential idea that Boston may have fucked up this guy's life is "But I desired something!" People will choose to believe (or choose to pretend to believe) any old shit if it enables them to satisfy some desire of theirs. People are always discussing Red Flags and I think my biggest Red Flag is when people choose to disregard the consequences of their actions or beliefs because to acknowledge that those actions or beliefs are destructive would mean that they're going to lose something they desire. One of my favorite shirts is Fox Mulder's "I want to believe" shirt because I think it's a fitting sentiment that's more subtle than most people think yet easily digestible as a way of summing up Fox Mulder. I have had multiple people see the shirt and respond to me on the street, "So believe." And every time, I resist saying, "Fuck you! Wanting to believe isn't the same thing as being able to believe! Wanting to believe is expressing the melancholy and isolation of seeing the flaws in something that you'd love to believe like every other simpering chimp but can't because you respect truth and science and experience. But, man, wouldn't it be nice to believe in some really fucking idiotic shit! So relaxing!" But to believe in things that aren't real is to open yourself up to a shit world because you'll ignore horrible truths that might tear down the belief you desire.

What I'm trying to say is this: Defund the police.

Deadman finally gets a glimpse at the person behind the voice and it has not been Rama Kushna.

This is the first I'm hearing about Hal Jordan's love of the sun.

Hal Jordan probably loves the sun because it's sort of a green color. Don't argue with that statement, you common sense hooligans. Science rarely uses common sense! Do your own research like you all pretend you like to do to prove the thing you desire to be is true! Well, fuck you, motherfucker! The sun emits mostly blue-green light so that's what fucking color it is even if we see it as white or yellow or orange or red! You stupid motherfuckers. I mean, Hal Jordan loves the sun so much it must be true. Do you think he'd love a yellow sun? He'd be incapable of it do to the limitations placed on him by his job!

Hal Jordan takes a moment to stick his fingers in Deadman's eyes as proof that Deadman doesn't have eyes or vision or any senses or anything. Hal basically just shits on him and is all, "You're nothing. You're a ghost. Ghosts are simply regressive selfish thoughts that refuse to die. You see what you want. You hear what you want. You dress like a fucking clown because you're so wrapped up in the life you used to have. Why is anybody even reading this fucking comic book? It might as well just be 22 blank pages."

This is the first I'm hearing about Hal Jordan's love of the band Rush.

Hal Jordan, The Spectre, reveals that Neron stole Hal's soul when he died rekindling the sun. Fuck! I always knew The Spectre was some soulless asshole! He says his soul completed Neron's pentagram which means that Hal Jordan, as I've always suspected, is terrible at math. How has Neron filled out a five-pointed star with five available slots for soul cages with just three souls: The Flash, Jason Todd, and Hal Jordan? Even if time is so fluid that, technically, Deadman's soul is still in one of the cages as Neron completes his spell, that leaves one space left! Neron never caught five souls!

After restoring Deadman's memory, The Spectre pulls his usual Centrist shit and is all, "That's all I can do! I can't do no more! Bye bye, sucker!" So now it's up to Deadman to save the world by possessing, I don't know, a mostly naked chick?

Oh no! I've exposed myself for the Victorian prude I am by calling this woman mostly naked!

Look, I know Victorians were massive horndogs! I'm just doing what we're all supposed to do: pretend that the thing everybody is pretending is the way things actually are! I hate the Status Quo but sometimes I'll play along with it because we all share a common language and most of that common language is bullshit, lies, and misconceptions!

Deadman's friend was one of his old circus buddies who lived in Nanda Parbat with him years ago. He's a detective now so he'll certainly be able to track down Neron the demon! Easy peasy!

Oh. Actually, the dude is pretty smart. He figures out that since the world hasn't gone to Hell yet even though The Spectre told Deadman that Neron has completed his plans then it means Caldera has yet to sell his soul to Neron and the plan hasn't actually even gone into action yet! Remember how Neron kept talking about time being fluid and shit? He was giving the game away! Neron's plan now hinges on Caldera's death so all Deadman has to do is keep Caldera from dying (or making the pact with Neron) and Bob's your uncle! Did I use that stupid expression correctly?

Through some slight body possessing, minimal detective work, and some good old fashioned circus acrobatics, Max and Boston discover the location of Caldera. And just in the nick of time as Boston flies through the wall to see Caldera performing the ritual to sell his soul to Neron! Boston tries his best to stop the ritual but he fails. I mean, he fails to stop the ritual but he does delay Caldera long enough so that Caldera dies just before he lights the final candle that summons Neron. Now Neron has been summoned but there's nobody to do the deal with! So he just says, "Curses! Foiled again!", and disappears.

Oh, okay. It was Kilowog and Tomar-Tu who filled out the rest of the pentagram.

Later, Max points out that the reason Hal Jordan used Deadman in this time travel mix-up was because how could a ghost mess up the timeline? And Boston is all, "Yeah! That's a good point! I totally didn't posses that one lady to save her baby that Doomsday definitely would have killed and I didn't totally possess that one Mongul henchman so I could throw myself from a huge height to kill him! I totally didn't mess up the time line at all!" Actually Boston doesn't mention that stuff because it's embarrassing that he actually did fuck up the time line and ruined Hal's plans. I bet that baby he saved turned out to be Grail!

Deadman and Max decide to work together to begin a monthly series based on The 13 Ghosts of Scooby-doo. They're going to dedicate their lives to tracking down all of the evil people who escaped Nanda Parbat when it was destroyed. And I have a four issues of that series so we're not finished with Deadman just yet!

Dead Again #5 Rating: A. I skipped over it in my discussion but I really liked the way Max and Boston figured out that Caldera probably wasn't dead yet. See, Neron had recently battled the Justice League but he wasn't rhyming at the time. And rumor had it that Neron was demoted to rhyming demon after that battle. Which makes sense because one of Neron's reasons for this plot was to regain his lost power and more. So they figured all that shit that happened in the past was done by the future Neron who had just recently been demoted. Pretty decent take for a time travel story since most time travel stories suck at understanding time travel. I don't mind with this one though because I just figured Hell doesn't do time like everybody else. Why should they? That's Status Quo bullshit! That's Heaven crap! Hail Satan!

Dead Again #4 (October 2001)

Oh no! The city is so sad!

I have a heart of stone so there's no way that I was moved when I found this anecdote in an old Constantine review from 2016 when I was looking up where I'd seen Neron before:

This weekend, my seven year old niece wanted me to pick her up because she had a secret she wanted to tell me. When I picked her up, she said, "Will you carry me forever?"

That kid is turning 16 in a day or two and I can only imagine the wicked, murderous stare I would get from her if I reminded her that she wanted me to carry her forever. Or maybe she'd just laugh. Anyway, I'm glad I wrote that down when I did because I had absolutely forgotten about it and it was so fucking adorable and it sort of hurts my stone heart that she stopped wanting me to carry her and we don't make huge messes when the extended family get together to eat out while we pretty much ignore everybody else at our end of the table and she'll never write a follow-up to her book, "Uncle Jeff Makes Me Puke." Happy Birthday, kid!

Oh! I forgot to mention that Jim Aparo did the art for the second issue starring Batman and Dead Robin. This issue, being that the guest star is Green Lantern, M.D. Bright will be in charge of drawing everything. I have to say, as a white devil, I might be a little bit offended by M.D. Bright's drawing of the demon Neron.

Come on, man! Neron should not look like this. His actual name isn't Chad! He's a fucking rhyming demon!

The sad part about how M.D. Bright drew Neron is that he pretty much nailed it. Who decided Neron should look like he's the lost third member of Nelson? I suppose it was Vincent Giarrano who was the artist on 1995's Manhunter #11, Neron's first appearance. Or was Vincent basing it on Howard Porter's design from Underworld Unleashed #1 which was Neron's "real" first appearance, with a name and a motivation and sexy hair and everything? One thing I do know: I need to find this fucking mini-series. I probably won't enjoy it but I do love me some Howard Porter art so at least my eyes will be happy as my brain forces tears of pain and frustration out of them at the same time.

On another note, Caldera seems to only need three superhero souls to fulfill his contract with Neron. Why the pentagram then? I'd suspect that The Flash counts for more than one soul because he's so powerful if the other two souls weren't Jason Todd, a non-super-powered jerk-face, and Deadman, a useless circus ghost. How can Neron be happy with this catch? I'd throw most of them back and burn Caldera's eyes out of his head before handing him over to the demons who force feed the damned burning piles of shit straight out of their own rectums (the damned's rectums, not the demons! Because it seems worse somehow. You'd expect to eat a demon's burning shit. But you wouldn't expect to eat your own burning shit! You wouldn't even expect your shit to burn! At least not when you haven't had a linguiça and jalapeño pizza the night before).

Neron takes Caldera to Superman's corpse where Caldera becomes the new Man of Steel. At this point, the old¹ me would suggest he fly right out and fuck Lois Lane because that would be hot. But the new me is all, "That would basically be rape and I shouldn't condone it even if these are fictional characters and also fucking Lois Lane would be hot." It just wouldn't be right to fuck Lois Lane, no matter how hot it is, without being honest about who you are! She has never said yes to Caldera's dick, no matter how many times she's screamed, "Yes!", because of Superman's.

Idiot. Superman just died! You think Neron can't make sure he'll die again?

Caldera seems to have forgotten that Superman's weakness is magic and that Neron and about five thousand other characters in the DC Universe can do magic. Also we just learned last issue that one of Superman's other weaknesses is being punched in the face to death. Why can't it happen again almost immediately? Especially when you mouth off to the demon who just gave Superman's body to you! I don't think you sign a contract with a demon and then when the contract seems fulfilled, you pull your pants down and wave your ass at the demon and call his mother a lousy whore (the whore part isn't the insult. The insult is that she's lousy at it).

Pardon me a second. I have to go ask some Alpha Cucks on Twitter if eating another man makes you gay.

Okay, I'm back. Anyway, Gay Neron really gets one over on that idiot Caldera. Unless Caldera has some other trick up his sleeve, like a sword he can use to hack his way out of Gay Neron's stomach. No wait. Caldera doesn't have any sleeves! So he's fucked. Unless he's got a rectum of steel (which he almost had but certainly doesn't now), he really has no other place to hide a sword.

Gay Neron mentions that he needs two more souls to complete his project which, I mean, of course he does! Apparently I know more about magic rituals than Caldera and all I did was once listen to Ozzy's "Mr. Crowley" and instantly started worshiping Satan². I guess you could say I had a natural flare for being a selfish douche who occasionally cursed people³ with my magic abilities.

Gay Neron used Caldera simply to have a little treat in the middle of the job.

Deadman escapes the soul cage by possessing a demon cherub for a brief moment. Then he dives into an orange rectum which, if I understand Hell correctly, is probably the only way out. I would scan the picture but nobody wants to see Deadman double-fisting a huge asshole as he flies face first into it. Oh wait. If I were a reader, I'd totally want to see that!

Sorry for getting everybody aroused with this filth.

When Deadman escapes Hell, he finds himself in the future. Superman has returned to life although he's unrecognizable in his black outfit and super hip mullet. Only Dan Jurgens, a man who died sometime in the mid-eighties and had his brain transferred to a read-only tape cassette so that he couldn't create new memories would think Superman looked cool in his new post-death look.

Deadman arrives in Coast City which has already been destroyed by Cyborg Superman and turned into an infant Warworld by Mongul. Gay Neron is here somewhere hunting down Green Lantern's soul. Unless he's hunting Parallax's soul? I have no idea when all that dumb shit happens.

Oh, I guess he is recognizable.

Punisher Superman gets his ass kicked by Mongul. Superman really needs to rethink this whole act of going toe-to-toe with big muscular aliens. Is it possible that over half of Superman's body is composed of his testicles?

Hal Jordan arrives just in time to save Superman by tackling Mongul. If Mongul weren't so embarrassed by his tiny pecker, he could easily defeat Hal Jordan by stripping naked. I've never seen Mongul's penis but anybody who creates Warworld over and over again is compensating for something. Deadman helps Hal Jordan defeat Mongul by leaving one of Steel's hammers in the exact spot that he knows Mongul will beat Hal's face in. Hal stumbles upon it just before Mongul kills him and turns the tables on Mongul. Deadman leaves immediately because what else could happen? Gay Neron's plans have been foiled, right?! He's down to two souls and he failed to get Hal's. It's fucking over, man!

No wait. There's still half of this issue and one more after this! Fucking Deadman. Get back here and help out!

Mongul didn't get naked but Supes and Steel did! Why couldn't Supergirl? I want to see her naked even if she is actually an amorphous blob.

After the battle, Deadman taunts Gay Neron but Gay Neron is all, "No wait! Actually, I won, you stupid jerk!" He then recites an epic poem about Hal Jordan's future, how he goes crazy from grief, murders all the Green Lanterns, and then becomes the Wrath of God! And somehow this means Gay Neron will get enough souls to become the ruler of Hell. It's a good plan if you don't think about it too much. Gay Neron also erases Deadman's memory, just in case Deadman's thinking of trying to stop him one last time which he is because there's one more issue.

Dead Again #4 Rating: C. This issue was kind of cheating because even though Hal went nuts and became a huge murderer and the opposite of a hero, he didn't die. But they had to work "Hal's Darkest Day" into this series. Hasn't any other big hero died that they could have used? What about Wonder Woman? Surely⁴ she's died a few times. Anyway, I can't praise a plot that uses the whole, "Ha ha! You didn't actually defeat me! You defeating me was my plan all along, you stupid bastard! Ah ha ha ha ha!" Hmm. Maybe I'll make that the plot of my next Dungeons and Dragons campaign! Nobody'll see it coming because I despise it so much!



_________________________________________________________________
¹ "Old" as in "two weeks ago."
² In my heart! I never actually read up on anything or did any work. I'm basically a Tao Satanist.
³ Two curses that I actually performed that somehow worked: 1. I cursed my cousin with hiccoughs which he had for nearly 24 hours; 2. I cursed a bicyclist riding recklessly to immediately crash.
⁴ Don't call me Shirley.

Dead Again #3 (October 2001)

Deadman's really going through it this month.

I say "this month" because I just realized that this entire series came out in October 2001 as a weekly comic. I just checked the calendar and October 2001, just like January 2025, had five Wednesdays in it. I'm assuming new comic book day was on Wednesdays in 2001. I don't remember when or how often it's changed but wasn't it Thursday or Friday in the '80s and '90s? I guess this was some kind of spooky Halloween event. The editors at DC thought, "What would be scarier than making fans revisit the deaths of all of our most beloved characters and also Jason Todd?" At least that explains why all of the comics in this series have the exact same advertisements in them. Really getting sick of Dave Chapelle grinning like a dope while being choked to death in the Right Guard advert on the inside cover.

Boston Brand's "so full of grief he can't take it anymore" is just my taking a massive shit face. At least Superman doesn't look as sexy as Robin did when he was dead. I'm always relieved when either an artist doesn't draw a dead person sexy or, and this might be the crux of it, I don't become aroused when looking at a drawing of a dead person. I don't think I have a necrophilia kick so I'm pretty sure the fault lies in the horny comic book artists.

Deadman gets another call from Rama Kushna telling him he's got to do something but then not telling him what it is but then immediately sending him to where he needs to be anyway. Luckily he's been through this twice before and knows the score: some hero is going to die, he's going to watch, then he's going to fail to escort them to heaven as they're soulnapped by Caldera.

As far as Deadman's concerned, the soon-to-be dead guy's probably gonna be Booster.

The only problem with this story is that Superman never actually died. Didn't he just slip into some sort of Kryptonian Healing Coma? Or is this story the explanation for why Superman was "dead" for so long! Because his soul was trapped by Caldera! Pretty sneaky, sis.

Doomsday and Superman "kill" each other at the same time so that Superman can die peacefully having saved the world. I suspect Steve Vance chose Superman as one of the souls to be captured by Caldera because DC marketed Superman's death as the greatest thing to ever happen in comic books ever (even though I've read some issues of Omaha the Cat Dancer that were way better!). The problem with using this moment is that it reminds readers just how boring the "Death of Superman" actually was. It's possible it's better in this issue because it was edited down to just a few panels instead of a half-dozen splash pages of Superman deciding that beating the shit out of something more powerful than he was using only his fists and no other super powers or plans or Batman was the best plan to save the world. It just made Superman seem violent and stupid when he was actually pretty fucking smart and patient. Who came up with the idea that Superman would succumb to some mindless piece of shit that was practically composed of rage and violence instead of Lex Luthor? Although, looking at the state of the world today and the fucking "violence redeems" idiots who helped elect not-even-arguably the stupidest piece of shit in America, perhaps it was more prescient than I was ready for at the time. The downfall of truth, justice, and the American way? Pure idiotic mindless violence. I'm sorry I ever doubted your vision, Dan Jurgens.

This is the calm of a man who just found an easy out from a terrible relationship.

That was just a metaphor! I'm not suggesting that Lois Lane was a terrible partner for Superman. Although, she was way better looking and way smarter than he was and probably really good at sex while the Christian farmboy learned to fuck by pre-ejaculating his way through two dozen dead escorts (purchased and subsequently buried by Pa Kent) as he learned to control the power of his ejaculate. She was too good for him, if anything.

Kryptonian semen remains in a woman's body until it can be expelled through grief.

I wrestled with that previous caption because it makes me sound like a Twitter Alpha Cuck Woman Hater who doesn't understand biology and calls for women to be imprisoned or killed if they aren't virgins before marriage because they know they'll never be able to satisfy a woman in bed and they live in terror of the look of pure disappointment in the woman's eyes when they get the head of their penis halfway inside of her before coming and croaking out, "Why did I come so fast? You must have done this before? What's your body count?!" I can't wait until sex robots become a thing and the guys buying them learn that their sex robots all had to be tested before being sold on market and they get jealous that a Penetration Machine has fucked their robot wife before them.

The heavens open up like a blooming bud eager to enfold Superman into it's velvety pink petals. Deadman comments that he's never seen heaven so eager to accept somebody into her. Superman winks, forgets all about Lois, and strides confidently into the waiting grasp of Darius Caldera! It was a honey trap!

After experiencing this scenario two times before, Deadman finally realizes what he must do to save Superman: fall into Caldera's soul cage himself! He sacrifices himself and Superman gets away because he's not really dead anyway. But now Deadman is in a cage in hell alongside Jason Todd and Barry Allen. And it's here that he learns how Caldera became so powerful.

Oh joy. Neron.

When I last read a story with Neron, he thought it would be a great idea to capture Apollo's soul because Apollo was gay. Although even Neron knew that was a bad look, to say Apollo was in Hell for being gay! So instead he was all, "You're here for murder and more murder and also the joy you find in murder. Not, and I can't stress this enough, because you put your dick into Midnighter's mouth and butthole and probably other fucked up places being that he has such an extraordinary healing factor. I'm not going to ask because I don't want to get into your personal business. Hell doesn't care what you get up to in the bedroom! You're hear for the non-gay sins!" And Midnighter was all, "I'm going to go to Hell and eat Neron's skin until he begs me to douse him in holy piss (that's holy water that I drank while eating a meal of asparagus and Brussels sprouts and then pissed into this Neron-sized container)."

Neron and Caldera explain the plan. The first part everybody knew. Caldera made a deal to live longer than the one day he had left, preferably in another body. Neron accepted the deal at the price of five heroic souls. So far, Caldera has captured one heroic soul and a Robin and Deadman. But it seems fitting enough so far for Neron because he's ready to enact the next part of the plan: putting Caldera's soul into Superman's body! Was there a chapter in "The Reign of the Supermen" where one of the new Supermen was a huge dick who went shirtless in a skirt and captured souls for his demonic buddies in Hell? I didn't read the series but if that's something that happened, I'm never speaking to my friend Upright again for not telling me how cool the aftermath of "The Death of Superman" was!

Dead Again #3 Rating: B. I don't have too many memories of Neron although he definitely appeared in some of the pre-New-52 titles I read growing up. Did I ever read Underworld Unleashed? I have no fucking clue. If only I'd been writing blog entries about the things I read or the stuff I watched when I was younger, I wouldn't have to re-read all of this shit! It's almost like I'm experiencing two lives in one life and I'm wasting the second life by simply reliving the first life! Occasionally, some commenter calls me stupid and, well, I think I have to agree! What the fuck am I doing here?!

See you tomorrow for Issue #4!

Dead Again #2 (October 2001)

Why does Deadman's happy, celebratory face look so anguished and sad?

Yes! I can't wait to relive the moment Jason Todd's skull gets smashed in by a crowbar! Some of you (most of you?) probably weren't alive when Jason Todd was killed by The Joker but it might have been the best time to be a DC Comics' fan. Not only did Jason Todd die, we got to call in and vote to kill him! Not that I voted to kill him. Or read the comic book at the time. Or cared that about Robin at all even though I'm acting like it was the greatest moment of my life. I was too busy hating Marv Wolfman's version of Dick Grayson to care about Jason Todd! I'm just trying to be edgy and shocking! What kind of an Internet personality would I be if I admitted to being super sad when Robin died? I'd be one of those earnest people on tumblr who everybody respects for their profound insights and empathic posts that help us all get through life just a little bit easier. If I ever found out I was one of those posters, I'd bash my own head in with a crowbar after having written two notes: my suicide note explaining in tearful, melancholy prose how anguished I truly was, hiding behind an outlook of optimism, hope, and compassion, and another note saying, "Be sure to post my suicide note on my tumblr! thanks!"

Just like the first cover, I think José Luis García-López didn't have a clear idea of what he was supposed to be drawing. Did he think Deadman was supposed to look sad and anguished because Batman had just proposed to Robin and was leaning in for a passionate kiss as Robin leans sensually in his arms? Maybe I've got some kind of face blindness that makes me equate "unconscious and/or dead" with "totally up for it." Because I've accused other artists of making unconscious or dead women look like they're coming their brains out. I can't remember all the artists I've accused of that but David Finch and Tony Daniels were definitely two of them.

I just noticed David Finch looks like Michael Berryman's hotter, younger brother. Has he ever been approached to do a The Hills Have Eyes prologue movie, before whatever turned Pluto into Pluto happened to Pluto? If it were up to me (and probably David Finch), it'd be an NC-17 flick.

I don't like to surmise that Batman and Robin engage in sexual intimacy (and have probably only done so about six or seven dozen times (across 4000+ blog entries! So barely any, really!) but I can't deny that it looks like Batman is going in for some sweet, sweet Robin's eggs here. I only mention it, yet again, so that I could mention how I rarely ever mention it. So this one doesn't count!

Caldera looks like he's about to be introduced as the next Overwatch character.

If Caldera were the next Overwatch playable character, he'd be voiced by Andy Samberg, for sure.

Caldera takes The Flash to his secret dimensional hideout to power one arm of his mystic pentagram. The other four points will be powered by other heroes who have died. It doesn't matter if they've died and come back to life because his mystic pentagram has been built outside of time and space, as he explains to The Flash using speech which can only be produced through time where the vibrations move across space. I don't know. It's magic not science!

"You can't run fast here, Flash! Ignore that the noises leaving my mouth and entering your ear via vibrations through speech and can only be understood when lined up across a time continuum act exactly like your superspeed would act."

I'm such a jerk! I'm reading "Time as I conceive it does not work here" in a comic book where time does not work like I conceive it and I'm complaining that it doesn't make any sense! I really should purchase that crowbar for later use.

A rhyming demon warns Caldera that he still has much to do which must mean Caldera has trapped Flash in Hell. I guess that's as outside of time as you can get because remember that time Anton Arcane wound up in Hell and Swamp Thing visited him and Anton was all, "How long have I been here? One thousand? Two thousand years?" And Swamp Thing checked his watch and was all, "Oh, about fifteen minutes, actually." And then Anton Arcane screamed for like two million more years, give or take an hour.

Many years later, long after Crisis on Infinite Earths was forgotten by everybody involved and all the editorial mistakes caused by Crisis were cleared up (or compounded, depending on how rationally your brain works) by Zero Hour, Rama Kushna calls on Deadman once again. Deadman doesn't remember the last issue but Rama assures him that this mission he's being sent on is a follow-up to a previous mission. Deadman doesn't argue or ask too many questions because he's a dead guy and a ghost and almost fully lacks the free will that living humans falsely believe they don't lack. "I will choose free will." Oh, good one, Geddy! Just like you chose to be born, right? Maybe go read another Ayn Rand novel, you simp!

That was me chastising young Geddy Lee before he realized the "philosophy" of Ayn Rand was simply a nonsensical defense of selfishness. Her entire philosophy, or at least what everybody has bought into because they're twats, was "Why should I do anything for anybody else when I never ask anybody else to do anything for me? I am fully a creation of my own effort and will and owe nothing to nobody at all, no matter how often people point out that every single modern person alive owes a massive, unrepayable debt to the generations that came before."

Here's my argument against Ayn Randian libertarianism: "If I want to get my dick sucked, I can't constantly decry dick sucking. I have to accept that dick sucking is a noble, communal, giving, compassionate gift from one member of the community to another." The only people who should believe in libertarianism are people who can suck their own dicks (or slurp their own clits). Also maybe replace "dick sucking" with something less vulgar if you're going to present this argument to your grandparents.

Deadman finds himself in Ethiopia where he decides to pop into a little shed to see what's going on in a place where he doesn't have to see all the suffering and starvation around him.

Ah! Much better!

Deadman possess The Joker just long enough to stop the killing blow to Jason Todd's Bat-noggin. The Joker tells his henchman he has to clean up his underwear while they fret about how many bones Batman is going to break in their bodies when he finds out about this. The Joker, being reminded that Batman exists, decides his pants can wait. He needs to blow up all the evidence that he murdered Robin. He ties some woman named Sheila who totally can't be Jason Todd's mom to a post, has his henchmen set us up the bomb, and flees the scene. Deadman lets The Joker and his henchmen go so he can possess Robin and disarm the bomb without their interference.

Deadman has to crawl across the floor using Jason Todd's lips.

This aside really belongs in one of my The Crusades reviews but I just realized Steven T. Seagle wrote on a DC Grifter comic in the mid-'90s and I am fucking intrigued. Grifter was the absolute worst comic book of some truly shit comic books when The New 52 began so I'd like to read the character written by a writer I actually like! Okay, back to the death of that fucker, Jason Todd.

Deadman tries his best but Sheila and Jason are still locked in the shed when the bomb goes off. Jason Todd dies in the blast but his "mother", thrown clear, survives. Jason Todd takes the news of his death pretty calmly.

Oh, so when he's dead, Todd's all, "I get it! I'm so calm about everything!" But alive Todd is all, "I want to shoot everybody in the face!"

Batman comes stumbling in like a drunk late to the party just screaming Robin's secret identity for anybody to hear. Deadman thinks about possessing Batman and then smashing himself in the face with the crowbar but Jason Todd stops him. He admits his death is his own stupid fault. Then he watches his mother tell Batman that he was a good kid and he cries. After that, he's kidnapped by Darius Caldera in a soul cage and taken to Hell to hang out with Barry Allen. Although since time means nothing in Hell, shouldn't he have already been there when Barry was brought in? And Barry was already there when Jason was brought in? And each of them were already there when each of them were brought in? Fuck, my head hurts. I need some opium. How can Portland be as liberal as it is but we don't have any opium dens?!

The issue ends with Boston Brand shrugging his shoulders and thinking, "Well, nothing I can do now! Might as well go back to possessing people playing miniature golf for some kicks and laughs!" Batman, on the other hand, cradles Jason Todd and screams, "I told you not to go after The Joker alone! I was right! You were wrong! And now look what happened?! I'm sad!"

Dead Again #2 Rating: B+. It's a little better than the last one. But that'll happen when you get to see The Joker murder Jason Todd on panel. Sure, it was fun seeing Barry Allen disintegrate from contact with antimatter as well. But not quite as satisfying. As for Deadman, what the fuck has he done so far? Absolutely nothing! Unless this entire series was to clear up minor errata that fans had been bringing up for years about each of these characters' deaths. "Why didn't The Joker completely finish Robin off with the crowbar? Why leave him alive to almost escape the bomb? Makes no sense, DC!" "Why didn't the Qwardians kill The Flash when they had the chance?! How did he buy time to destroy the antimatter canon?!" You know what? As I began writing the second one, I'd lost interest. No way fans were pointing out inconsistencies in Barry's death, right? No, no. That's a terrible way to think. Always remember: fan complaints about comic book plots are the Rule 34 of comic book fandom. Any plot you can mention, somebody wrote an irate letter about it. It's just, before the Internet, nobody published most of that hateful nerd garbage!

Dead Again #1 (October 2001)

Wait. This isn't The Spectre.

Deadman isn't know for being the size of a poorly dressed kaiju and holding the corpses of damned fools. But The Spectre is absolutely known for that. Did José Luis García-López get the assignment and, being that they were 54 years old here (an age I'm so super close to it scares the shit out of me) at the time, did they just read "Deadman" as "The Spectre"? Then halfway through the painting, Vance dropped a message, "How's that Deadman cover coming along?" And José Luis García-López was all, "¡Santa mierda!" Then they quickly erased the hood, threw up some big collars, and masked all the greens and filled in red. Or, and here's a big shocker to nobody who regularly reads anything I write online, being that I'm nearly 54, I don't know what I'm talking about and just don't remember that maybe Deadman constantly takes the form of a gigantic zombie. Who knows? It's 50-50 one way or the other according to First Law of Schrödinger's Cat Club. I think the formal rule is "Ignorance is a coin flip."

Another surprise revelation: I don't remember anything from this comic from 24 years ago or why I picked it up. If I had to bet, I'd guess the phrase, "A Crisis in Hand!", aroused something masturbatory in me and I couldn't resist. Or I just glimpsed quickly at the exposed chest and thought this was a Power Girl comic. Or I just loved when Barry Allen died so much that I wanted to revisit it.

The issue begins with an augury.

Technically, a haruspicy. Take that, person on tumblr who was about to reblog this with a long explanation on the history of augury.

I constantly write as if somebody is actually reading this. Is that a psychosis of some sort? I remember when I was reading every issue of The New 52 and had over a thousand readers thinking, "People really enjoy my reviews!" But I quickly realized, from the way people told me how much they hate my reviews, that they really just wanted to know what was happening in The New 52 without actually having to read The New 52. I should have blocked them all! Go read the synopsis of The New 52 by all those boring comic book "reviewers", like my nemeses, the guys at Weird Science, whom I'd totally forgotten about! My guess is that reading the synopses of all the DC plots is the main reason anybody reads their boring reviews that never discuss their personal flaws or the times they committed sleepy sex crimes against animals, or whatever other weird stuff I'm sure they got up to but aren't telling their loyal readers who deserve to know. I know Eric sucked milk directly out of a cow's teat. Just be honest, guys!

I hope one of them is named Eric or it'll look like I have no respect for my enemies.

Back to this first page that is super complicated and profound. For example, we learn that the dawn is the beginning of the day when things are first illuminated. And being illuminated means learning something. And what's better to learn at the beginning than an ending? I just mean if you're a writer trying to be literary. Plus the oracle kills a cock which usually crows at dawn. It brings knowledge of the coming day. Now, in its death, it brings knowledge of the oracle's coming death. The main thing this scene leaves me wondering is this: how often does this man try to augur the day of his death? You'd think he'd only need to do it once and then he'd have the knowledge. Which should mean this is his first time doing it so it's a huge coincidence that he discovers he's going to die that night! That's bad luck. Unless, because prophecy is a really tricky and manipulative jerk, the act of scrying for his death date actually brings about his death! I always knew you shouldn't play with this mystic shit. It's like never going to the doctor and then when you finally do, they're all, "Oh, you've got Stage 8 Cancer of the Everything." People probably think, "Oh no! You should have gone sooner!" But we all know it was the whole looking in the box that was the problem and the coin came up tails. Should have left the fucking hospital or rooster or box alone!

The old guy spends the rest of the day incanting some spell to make sure he will live forever. Not necessarily in the old, frail body he's currently residing in but somewhere, somehow. I guess I've got a better answer now to the question of how I would spend the last 24 hours if I knew I was going to die: cast a spell to make sure that I don't die!

This pile of narrative nonsense takes place at the same moment the old guy's spell activates.

I call the words in the above page "narrative nonsense" because they either say nothing or actively contradict each other at the same time. It's like an incredibly complicated math equation. It looks intense but both sides of the equation equal the same thing and it's usually something boring like one or zero. It's at the same moment but time doesn't mean anything. It's not a different dimension but a different perception which, at best, is semantics and, at worst, means nothing at all. Every thing is too subtle but also too vast, under but also over. It is infinite but immeasurably brief. It's the written equivalent of a close-up magician making you look at the wrong hand so that you think actual magic just happened. "Oh look at all the words and complex thoughts! I just read something profound!"

So after the old man casts his lich spell and the floaty guy disappears from his infinite second, Deadman floats above Earth during DC's first ever major Crisis event.

Why is this fucker talking like Trump?

Obviously there are worse things about people who support Trump but really early on in 2015 or 2016, I was all, "I don't care if you support Trump but if you actually think he's smart, you're a fucking imbecile." Now I would never say that because of all the other horrible things supporting Trump obviously makes you!

I scanned the most boring part of that page because I wanted to point out that Deadman was speaking like a 2nd grader. Beneath Deadman, the scene is full of dinosaurs and panicked people and crashed satellites and George Washington (unless it's Paul Revere and he's all, "The Anti-Monitor is coming! The Anti-Monitor is coming!"

The issue is called "The Quick and the Dead" because I think that's one of Jesus's parables and also Deadman and The Flash star in this comic. I'm more of a Genesis expert than a New Testament expert. I haven't read The New Testament straight through, possibly because every time Jesus tells a parable, the slackers following him around are all, "What does it mean?! What are you saying?! DURR DURR DURR DURR!" And then Jesus has to explain the parable. But then later, Jesus will tell another parable that leaves them confused so he sighs and tells them what it means. One thing I'll say for him, Jesus is cool. I mean, he's stubborn and expects a lot out of his followers and never gives up on the idea that maybe someday they'll be able to use their brains.

Deadman spots a couple of guys he recognizes in the crowd and floats down to see what's up.

It's God's Wrath and, I don't know, Judas Iscariot in a fedora.

For the Wrath of God, The Spectre acts unreasonably calm in the face of total annihilation. Shouldn't this motherfucker be raging at the dying of the anti-light? Instead he's gossiping with his fancy lad friend. Deadman ditches these losers to go watch the real heroes like Superman and Blue Beetle save the universe.

Deadman thinks he knows his limits as a ghost who happened to die in the most humiliating outfit imaginable but he soon learns differently. Rama Kushna contacts him to let him know he has a purpose!

I mean, he doesn't tell him what that purpose is. Just hints around at it like a fucking jerk.

I guess "Time is of the essence" means "I don't have time to explain how you can save the entire fucking universe but I will hint cheekily at it and hope you figure it out or everybody is fucked. Oh well! Look at all the words that followed 'Time is of the essence' that could have been used to tell you what to do! What did you expect from some sort of Zen-Buddhist god-like being? You're lucky I wasn't all, 'Time is off the essence but if you "book" it, the necessary "changes" will be brought about.' Then imagine how much time you'd waste throwing coins to cast your hexagram to figure out what to do! Man, I made it way too easy for you this time!"

Deadman sees The Flash appear in that iconic moment where he's running to save everything while dying from antimatter and Boston thinks, "Hey! The clues from Rama! I gotta become The Flash! OH!" Great. My brain just fucked me by deciding that Deadman sounds like Andrew Dice Clay. I might as well get comfortable living with it because it's the only voice I'm going to hear when reading any of his lines until the day I die. Thanks, brain. You're more like my asshole than you realize.

Oh hey! There's an advert for Tang on the opposite page that either makes no sense or makes the most awful sense.

Is Tang implying school sloppy joes are made from orangutan?

Deadman hitches a ride on The Flash into the antimatter universe of Qward. But the trauma from the trip knocks him loose and he loses The Flash once he gets there. He also encounters the Anti-Monitor overseeing construction of his antimatter cannon which will be used to destroy the non-antimatter universe (that doesn't sound right. Posimatter? Promatter? Plusmatter? Bettermatter? Just matter?!) so Deadman tries to possess him. I don't know what his plan after that was. Can he force a person to jump off a cliff and dash themselves upon some rocks Midsommer-style or is that against the rules? It doesn't matter because he just bounces directly off the Anti-Monitor. The Anti-Monitor senses that some weird guy just tried to enter him but becomes distracted when The Flash appears wielding Psycho-Pirate as a weapon.

Classic Barry Allen plotline! Force a sad, crying man to whip everybody into a frenzy and then accept all the accolades for saving the day.

The Flash abandons Psycho-Pirate after using him for his powers. He lies on a scaffold, crying, broken, full of so many emotions that aren't his. The perfect body for Deadman to control and use for himself! Deadman possesses Psycho-Pirate to make sure all the Qwardians run in fear to give The Flash time to destroy the antimatter cannon. Then he also abandons Psycho-Pirate who, I'm assuming, immediately kills himself.

As the antimatter cannon comes apart, Deadman goes into a two-page fugue state where he remembers his origin story and subsequent adventures. That's for everybody who picked up this comic book and were all, "What's a Deadman? How is this guy a hero? What made him dead? How come he's a man? I'm intrigued!" Well, now they know how it happened! And you can too if you just search "Deadman" on Wikipedia!

Deadman fails to save The Flash in the end. Which we all knew because Barry Allen died in the original Crisis and nobody had yet thought, "You know what would be awesome? If we brought back that boring motherfucker Barry Allen! The guy nobody is clamoring to bring back! The one guy absolutely and fully surpassed by his protégé, Wally West." So instead of saving The Flash, Deadman's job is to make sure The Flash goes into the light, never to fucking return. Ever. Get out of here, Barry! Don't let the cosmic door hit you in the place where you shit poo!

But Deadman fails at this task too! He's stopped just on the threshold of Heaven by some guy named Darius Caldera!

It's the guy who did the augury at the beginning!

Darius lived in Nanda Parbat when Deadman lived there and since everybody in Nanda Parbat was basically an evil supervillain turned peaceful by the calming rays of Zen Buddhism, now that Panda Barbat has been destroyed, Darius is a huge jerk again. And he doesn't want to die so he cast that spell to keep him at death's threshold, waiting for a chance to return to life via some trickery involving the dead who pass by.

So that's his plan! Capturing powerful souls to wear as jewelry!

There must be a second part to Darius's plan but he decided not to reveal it in this issue. I'm sure it has something to do with using the souls to resurrect himself. But it could also be something more cool, like using the soul's to usurp God's throne and become the ruler of all creation himself! For some reason, he doesn't want Boston Brand's soul. I guess circus performers are beneath him.

Dead Again #1 Rating: B. Deadman wasn't any help at all in the infinite Earth crisis, simply observing and shouting stuff and using actual thought bubbles to express himself. So Rama Kushna must have contacted Boston to stop Darius Caldera from stealing the souls of all of the most popular DC characters that have ever died and using them as flair and accessories. If The Flash became a necklace, what will Caldera use Jason Todd for? Hopefully a Prince Albert. I only mention Jason Todd because I've already seen the cover to the second issue. If I had to guess which souls Caldera was taking, the soul of the worst Robin ever wouldn't have been in my top 80 guesses. I don't even know 80 characters who have died but I'd still put all of those blank spaces before Jason Todd. Ugh! What a loser! Granted, the only Jason Todd I'm really familiar with was written by Scott Lobdell in The New 52's Red Hood and the Outlaws so you'd understand why my hatred for him runs deeper than the jade egg I shoved up my ass before writing this.

The Crusades #20 (December 2002)

Is Venus going to die on her first quest?!

My cousin recently sent me a picture of what I wrote in their guestbook when I stopped by their house on my roadtrip in the Summer of '97. I have to say: 25 year old me was pretentious and I'm loving it so much.

People were that young guy's friends!

I had just picked up a hitchhiker earlier that day and I think I was still buzzing from not having been murdered! Let's see if the lyric chosen for this final issue of The Crusades can top my word sculpture!

Bah! A quote from the actual Crusades?! Boring! Not worth discussing!

Venus has gathered a bunch of Bud Stafford's old SCA buddies to join him in some Order of the Garter ritual in the sewers. It's like at the end of Mazes and Monsters where they play one last game with Robbie/Pardeu! Man, I loved that movie as a kid! You couldn't get me with anti-Dungeons-and-Dragons propaganda because I just took it at face value and was all, "Yes! A movie about my favorite thing ever!"

Bud's old friends want to help Bud realize he's not a 900 year old knight named Godfrey but Venus tell them they'd better let him come to it in his own time or else he might not let her run around the city slaying people. His buddies are all, "Oh, yeah. That sounds smart. You've got nice tits. Hurr hurr hurr." Also, Venus has told them they're on a special quest and they need Godfrey and not Bud. They need to raid the new casino, save Father Trinidad, and murder The Pope. Or probably not murder him; maybe tie him up and leave him for the cops or something.

Things are really moving along quickly now. Seagle was definitely told to wrap it all up by #20.

On her way home, Venus accepts two marriage proposals just to get some men quickly out of her way. Has she thought this through? Or does she expect to die on her quest? Does she plan on disappearing into the sewers herself, become a legend, a dark knight that prowls the alleys striking fear in the hearts of criminals?

Also, who the fuck is Cela? Can we get some closure on the kid before this is over?

Venus is now engaged to both Addas and Anton.

Maybe Venus's plan is to meet them both in the same hotel room on the same night, tell them to get naked and slip into bed in the dark. Do you think they'd actually wind up fucking each other? Do you think they'd get the hint?!

Venus closes her bank account and quits her job at the paper. The only person who knows what she's about to do (other than the SCA nerds) is her old work friend Sara. Venus wasn't supposed to tell anybody! Isn't that what brotherhood is about? She's just going to shit all over chivalry like that? She's already failed in her quest and she hasn't even donned her armor.

The SCA crew, along with Godfrey, raid the casino on horseback, killing a bunch of The Pope's henchmen (but not Philip! He's still alive minus loads of body parts). Duane takes a bullet in the shoulder but Venus won't leave him behind. She throws him up on her horse to get him out of the chaos. Is she engaged to him too?

Eventually, Godfrey chases down The Pope and the most secret of all the secrets are finally revealed!

The horrible scars and maggot-infested wounds on Godfrey's face really cleared up nicely after that sexy bath he took.

So The Pope was more critical to the story than I would have thought. I mean, I thought he was super critical to the story because this comic is called The Crusades and he's The Pope. But then he sort of disappeared during the Third Crusade and I figured that was that. But he was the creator of the knight! It was The Pope's decree that these Crusades began!

And blah blah blah the day is save, the casino closes, the knight has his revenge on The Pope, and Venus lives happily ever after in the sewers with Bud and Cela. Gross.

The Crusades #20 Rating: B-. Hey, they rushed the ending so I can too! Steven T. Seagle was given a free page at the end for a little write-up about how the book's audience wasn't growing so they needed to end it and they wanted it to have a real ending instead of a comic book ending where a book just stops being published in the middle of everything. He makes it sound like this ending was planned but, come on! It was definitely rushed. But it answered all the questions so I should be satisfied, I guess. Plus Venus found her place in the world: living in a filthy domain fucking her father figure and taking care of the blind orphan he kidnapped. Endings don't get much happier than that, do they?

The Crusades #19 (November 2002)

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):

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.

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.

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).

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.

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.

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.

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!