Eee! Tess Ate Chai Tea: The Newsletter #24 (Third Week of May 2018)

E!TACT! #24
INCEL SPECIAL #1
By Grunion Guy

There was a day when not getting laid wasn't the defining attribute of a person's life. That day isn't today though! In this new millennium, not getting laid is the most traumatic thing that can happen to a person who has reached sexual maturity. Oh, I'm not saying it wasn't also tough last millennium. It's just that it wasn't as tough! Back before the Internet was the all-consuming rough slouching beast we all know and can't not love, we didn't have a place where we could scream into the void, "I can't get laid!" Mostly because all the voids back then were public spaces where people could see who you were when you shouted it and they'd point and say, "Ha ha! Virgin!" I know some of you are thinking, "Why didn't the nerdy virgin shoot that person?" Well, let me tell you how old fashioned last century was: it wasn't acceptable to shoot people! You had to just live in silent shame just like every other teenager who wasn't getting laid. And there probably wasn't a lot of them! It was hard to tell back then but based on teen sex comedies, all of the teenagers but you were getting sex. And by "you," I mean "me" and probably "you" since you're reading a newsletter stemming from a comic book blog written by an Incel.

Oh! I probably should have put a trigger warning on the last paragraph because it contained the word "virgin." Sorry to scar every single person reading this.

So last night, I was on my favorite Incel forum typing a thoroughly logical and over-the-top rational treatise on why women should fuck guys they don't actually want to fuck for the good of all mankind when I took another peak at the forum rules to make sure my unimpeachable string of gotcha fuck rhetoric was within the parameters of the site when I realized maybe we had a bit of a problem in our community. I mean, the number one rule is not to brag if you've finally gotten some sex. Which means those of us who haven't gotten sex and feel like we have no hope must continue to live in hopelessness because we never see when one of our number finds their way out of this lonely pit of despair and hate-masturbation! We're only privy to endless posts by the worst of our community about how sex will remain out of our reach for our entire lives. How do we know they're the worst? Because they're still sexless and in our community after years and years, getting angrier and angrier, sitting in bigger and bigger pools of their own useless drying semen!

It also made me think, "Why is every ounce of my energy devoted to how I'm not getting laid?" But then I had a moment of clarity and realized the game is rigged and women get to fuck anybody they want so why can't I? (Oh yeah! Did I mention I was male? That's probably important if it wasn't already assumed because who else would be completely consumed by their lack of sexual experience? I mean, lack of experience being close to and intimate with another person? Obviously this isn't just about sex or else we'd all pay for it, right? And if that were the case, where we could pay for it to stop feeling so hurt and angry and resentful of this very specific thing and totally not a whole bunch of other things, we wouldn't be consumed with blind hatred for the world because the world would be smelling of roses because our dicks would be smelling of vaginas. And this situation isn't that simple, guys!) How can I not spend every waking moment despising the girl I have a huge crush on because I know she's fucking whatever gross guy she can find when she's feeling horny. There's totally no way she's sexless and pining over a guy totally out of her league because she's a girl and it's different! I mean, if she was really desperate, there's always me, right?! What's wrong with her?!

I once saw a tweet that said something like "How dare you say you're hungry when there's a perfectly good slice of pizza lying on the sidewalk?" and I almost thought about how it related to what I expect from women but then I remembered not one woman has fucked me and I got back to writing my treatise on how the world would be a better place if supermodels would spend more time hanging around high schools fucking losers.

Sorry. I hate to call anybody from our community a loser! That's probably against the rules. We shouldn't be looking at the faults of the people in the Incel community as to why we aren't getting laid (or why we're consumed with that one small aspect of our sexless lives). We should be asking why we're even in this predicament to begin with when women outnumber men in this country. Why aren't we all partnered up?! And I don't mean partnered up by some kind of lottery because I'm not sleeping with some girl I find gross (not that I've had that opportunity because even gross girls want hot guys. What is up with that?!). I want to be able to pick the woman I want to fuck and I want her to be totally into it. Why isn't she into it? I'm a nice guy and I'm sure I'd act more adult and be able to provide for her once I got the motivation by getting laid.

I once heard a story about this guy who hadn't been laid because he was into Blood Bowl, Apple IIe games, and a chick who didn't want to have sex with him no matter how many times he drunkenly cried in front of her. But then he was in a situation where he took the initiative and did a manly thing in front of a woman he had been playfully flirting with which totally led to fucking her later. He didn't even pursue her after that moment. She sought him out because he did something that impressed her. His friend, who had more seriously been flirting with her, said that she couldn't keep her eyes off that guy after the thing he did that didn't involve trying to fuck her at all and was just an independent action that helped a number of people. But then I was all, "He must have been good looking and thin and society is bullshit. Why didn't the friend get any pussy? I bet he was fat and his IQ was too high." So that story didn't help.

How is it fair that five guys in high school get all of the women? We need a more even playing field. For men, I mean. Not having sex is too complex an issue that's too time consuming for me to have to think about women possibly having similarly complex problems concerning getting laid for the first time. I mean, obviously when a woman first gets a horny thought in her head, all she has to do is walk down to the local bar and fuck any guy at all. Because all guys want to fuck therefore women have no problem getting laid. It's simple logic. So female Incels are urban legends and unicorns and myths and the only people who mention them are just trying to obfuscate the issue. And that issue is how dry it is in my pants.

I propose we start a national draft of fucking. Since men spent so many years having to fear being drafted into the military to risk our lives (many of us having never even known the pleasant touch of whatever it feels like to have a woman you've just met follow you into the bathroom at a party who then leans in to kiss you as she slips her hands down the back of your sweat pants before moving them around to the front to grasp your twitching rod. Oh man that must be the greatest thing on Earth! Why am I being denied these simple treasures?! I mean, I don't really go to parties or attempt to flirt with women or cultivate an image that would attract the attentions of like-minded women because what's the point? Remember how the game is rigged?! There will probably be fifty more attractive men at that party before me! And even if there are fifty-one women, they're all going to fight over the top ten attractive guys while the other forty-one go home later to hate-masturbate), women should now be forced into a sex draft. Whenever a guy is ready to get laid for the first time, he should be able to call a government agency who will then pull a fuck draft number. Then that woman must fly out to this guy at her own expense (or maybe we can use some government money for this. It's too important to leave up to the woman because if she doesn't have the money, the guy needing to get laid might start killing people) to fuck him. And she has to fuck him (unless he isn't attracted to her. Then he gets to pull another lottery number! Maybe the draft should only draft hot women. The others would be dismissed, not for flat feet but for flat chests! Ha ha)! None of this, "Well, he came as soon as I touched his penis so I did my job, right?" NO! You need to provide penetration! No suck and fuck where the suck gets the job done so you think you can put away the fuck! Plus remember how the draft was for four years? Yeah! This woman needs to be committed for as long as the guy doesn't get tired of her. This is just like military service! You can't just not fuck when the guy wants to fuck. That would be akin to going AWOL.

Some day, I'm sure that piece of legislation will be drafted but it won't help me. I'll probably be long dead of a self-inflicted gunshot wound after going on a sexless killing rampage. And who can blame me?! Who can blame anybody who kills a bunch of people after not having sex for seventeen years of their life?! Not that the first twelve to fifteen should count in that timeline. So what I'm saying is "How can you blame anybody for being angry for not having sex for two to four years after reaching sexual maturity?! They should get it as soon as their dick first gets hard! Or else people are going to have to pay a price."

Hmm, now that I've said that in quotation marks, it seems a bit harsh. I might believe it but maybe people shouldn't quote me on it! That seems like something I should have typed anonymously on an Incel forum where it would receive a ton of support, making me think I was on the right track in my thinking.

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Incel Comic Book Reviews!

Action Comics Special #1
By Jurgens, Russell, Landis, Conrad, Thompson, Manapul, and Quintana

It's obvious Luthor is an Incel. His motivations make no sense otherwise. Here is Superman, the uncuckiest of the uncucky, come from outside Earth to fuck any woman he wants. Sure, he only chooses three (Lana, Lois, and Diana) but that doesn't stop all of the other Earth women expecting every man they meet to be as good as Superman. He's fucking unleveling the playing field to such a cosmic degree that Lex Luthor has taken it upon himself to destroy this enemy of the unfuckable. It was hard enough to get laid as an intelligent unattractive man before everybody expected men to have fabulous pectoral muscles and tight abdomens and high moral characters who treated everybody kindly, no matter what they looked like. Now it was next to impossible! But Luthor would come to the rescue (I know some people might be thinking, "Luthor? He's not really unattractive." But that's why he's bald. It's the metaphor for "unfuckable loser" in comic books)! Luthor is the man willing to martyr himself for the cause by killing the root cause of our unfuckableness. Once he takes out Superman, women will turn their eyes back toward mortal men. Of course their eyes will fall on faces like Chris Hemsworth and the other Hemsworths with other names (and sometimes other hair colors) instead of our community of Incels just waiting to be loved by a woman looking for a nice guy who will worship them.

Remember Revenge of the Nerds? Is that how you get a woman to fuck you? You trick them into thinking they're getting oral sex from their terrible quarterback boyfriend? Then after they've orgasmed because in this scenario I somehow know how to eat pussy successfully, they'll be in so much bliss that they won't call the police to have you arrested for oral rape, instead choosing to become your girlfriend? Man! Now I just have to figure out how to sneak my tongue into a woman's vagina! Also I need to figure out how to eat a pussy! Does it involve chewing? It must since it uses the verb "to eat" in the description. Also, do I absolutely have to know where the clitoris is? I hear it looks like a tiny dick. Do I have to put my mouth on that? That sounds gay. And if I were gay, I almost certainly wouldn't be an Incel. At least not after I'd come out of the closet. I suppose while in the closet, I'd totally be an Incel although women would probably like me better than this hetero version of being an Incel. That's probably a double standard that Lex Luthor could fix.

YAAAAAAS! My Incel queen! (Am I allowed to use that appropriated turn of phrase? Probably! I'm angry and resentful and my point of view is important!)

As Lex wanders around the Fortress of Solitude angrily jerking off on all of Superman's prized possessions (and hate fucking the top of the Bottle City of Kandor), he uses the term "so-called." This is the favorite phrase of mediocre and bad comic book writers. It gets so much bitter resentment and sexual frustration out in one simple phrase! Whenever I'm out shopping, I like to say things like "so-called bottle of ketchup" and "so-called farm style shredded cheese" and "so-called check-out slut." It doesn't mean much but it's like an emergency vent venting steam that would otherwise build up until I decided to finally pick up one of the many guns lying around America's gutters to shoot up my old high school. I know the girls there now aren't the ones who wouldn't fuck me but — let's face it — the ones there now aren't going to fuck me either! So remember, if you're an up and coming Incel writer, use this phrase as often as you can to indicate that the speaker is either way smarter than the person who used the "so-called" word in the first place or if the speaker is just a patronizing, cynical jerk (which is kind of just a restatement of my first example, really).

Lex has infiltrated the Fortress of Solitude to discover Superman's secret identity. Weird how discovering Clark Kent is Superman is harder than getting into a Fortress. Lex Luthor discovered Batman was Bruce Wayne when he learned Nightwing was Dick Grayson. But he hasn't learned Superman is Clark Kent when Clark Kent was the only one writing pro-Superman editorials for years on end while also writing all of the Superman news stories from Superman's point of view while also maintaining perfect abs and large pectoral muscles? Maybe Lex was thrown off because Clark Kent is such an obvious cuck. No way that unfuckable nerd was really out saving the world. I'm surprised learning the truth doesn't completely gall Lex. He should spend thirteen pages screaming, "How is that unfuckable four-eyed twit getting Lois Lane quality pussy while I'm stuck masturbating to that one time I saw my sister in the shower?! FUCK THIS WORLD AND FUCK SUPERMAN RIGHT IN HIS ASS AND NO THAT ISN'T A FANTASY I'M NOT GAY!"

At least Lex spares a few Narration Boxes to point out that Superman is an insipid loser who mocks Everyman by pretending to be just as unfuckable as the rest of us.

Yeah, extra cheese all over the side of the pizza box. Superman may get to stick his dick into Lois Lane's vagina but he's too stupid to carry a pizza box correctly.

Lex Luthor finally does what he should have done from the beginning: he begins blaming a woman. I guess before he was smart enough to figure out Superman's identity, he didn't know to target Lois Lane. But once he does, it's understandable that he can't believe she'd go for that piece of shit alien over the smartest man in the room. I mean on the planet. He might not get to fuck her the way Superman does (not that he ever could! We in the Incel community understand that if we ever do get to fuck, we're going to do it terribly. So now we have to worry about disappointing a woman in yet another way. Why do they get to judge if the sex is good or bad?!) but he'll make sure to fuck her in a really unsubtle metaphoric way!

It's practically our Incel motto: "If she wanted a man who's truly superior, she should have pursued me!"

I know I've been referring to those green Narration Boxes as Lex Luthor because they really should be Luthor's voice. But the comic has been pretty cagey about showing who it actually is (plus Superman figures it's Luthor on like page five. That's the biggest clue that it can't be Luthor! Clark isn't that smart). It's somebody in a wheelchair with Lex colored armor and a bald head who must use a respirator. So it might be Lex Luthor from the future or it might be Lex Luthor's sister, Lindsay. Or Labia. Whatever. But if it is his sister, she's a lesbian. Is she a lesbian? Probably since lesbian beings with "L".

If it's not Luthor, I'll be terribly disappointed because it's the one time Jurgens has ever gotten Lex's voice correct. He's pure Incel here! And who ever thought he was anything but? He even has a sex robot! Which doesn't count as having sex, of course. Because you can't degrade and shame a robot.

Later, Luthor attacks Lois personally. Except it's not his regular armor. It's big and bulky and fat. Plus the head in the helmet looks like it might be a hologram. And since the person who discovered Superman's identity used a hologram doohickey earlier, it's probably that person. I hope they name him General Incel.

Remember how the whole world thought Superman was Clark Kent but then Mxyzptlk helped clear it up with a fake Clark Kent? Shouldn't the person who just discovered Clark was Superman have thought, "Hey! We all knew the truth for a while but then we all got fooled by a lie later! It's like we all agreed to go back to being blue pilled!"

If I wasn't such a serious and real Incel, I might have had to make sure I was using the right color pill for that reference! Good thing I totally watch The Matrix like six times a week and didn't have to look up "red pill" on Urban Dictionary where I might find some asshat has put up a totally offensive definition like this: "When you are so insecure about not getting laid that you blame it on Jews and feminists." Fucking jerks.

Oh! Maybe this is the real Lex Luthor! It could be the Preboot Lex Luthor returned for Rebirth! That other Lex Luthor is a fraud and a cuck. We're finally getting the good old angry unfuckable Lex back now that DC Comics has slowly been smearing the Preboot universe over the New 52 universe like a grandmother who makes terrible peanut butter and jelly sandwiches by putting everything on the same slice of bread while thinking up long and convoluted metaphors so that she isn't paying close enough attention to the balance of spreads. Welcome back, King of All Incels!

Although being that it's Dan Jurgens writing this, it's almost definitely Lex Luthor from the future. Which is also fine as long as the ultimate outcome is a return to Lex being a gigantic dick for no apparent reason. At least no apparent reason to most lamestream readers who couldn't see the truth even if Morpheus forced it down their throats.

After a few more pages of battle, it turns out the majestic thinker from the beginning of the comic book was Lex from the future. He dies in the battle from a heart attack and then is consumed in an explosion so that Lex Luthor never discovers his hate lives on. Superman refuses to tell Luthor about it, assuming that Luthor from the future is some kind of an anomaly and not actually this Luthor from the future (which it has to be because that's how time works (except this is a comic book so that's not true at all (plus time travel isn't real so maybe it works like this?))). Or maybe since future Luthor just told Superman that he never, ever beats Superman, Superman doesn't give a shit about present Lex at all now. He now knows Lex will always fail so he turns his stupid Chad back on him. Fucking just like every Chad. They don't think I'm a threat to their sex life at all! As if they could fuck any girl they want while I have to stew in my own semen-laced resentment! Well, I'll show them some day! Someday they'll be sorry when I stop feeling like a huge beta and decide to be a gigantic disgrace to my parents and all of mankind!

I mean, that's what an anonymous person on a forum would probably say! But not me! I'm happy not being fucked by anybody and would never dream of taking out my failures on innocent bystanders! I'm totally stable!

The second story takes place at the White House Correspondents Dinner and is some kind of liberal claptrap bullpucky about how it's okay to laugh at stuff as long as you stick to really specific targets, like white males or white males who can't get fucked or virgin white males. Fucking Mark Russell thinks he's such a pussy hound with his great jokes and insightful glimpses into characters like Clark and Lois and Lex and Snagglepuss and Betty and Wilma.

Why can't we expect people without power to laugh at themselves? What's so special about powerful people and their lack of laughing?! P.S. I'm offended and slightly engorged by the coffee mug.

This is just a retelling of that time Seth Meyers bullied Donald Trump. I bet that cuck Seth Meyers is regretting that move now, right?! MAGA!

I swear I didn't laugh at any of Mark Russell's stupid jokes. Why do leftists always have to throw their agenda around? It makes their humor so terrible. Don't they know any good jokes about black men in suits and where they must obviously be?! Oh, but I guess it's not politically correct to assume black people are criminals now! It's not like that leads to a culture of systemic bias against...um, you know what? Those jokes are still funny.

The final story is by Max Landis and all I could think while reading this hippie Superman bullshit is, "Why isn't Frank Miller still writing Superman comic books?!"


Batman: White Knight #8
By Murphy and Hollingsworth

Is this a comic book about how everything Batman does is in service to trying to get laid? It's so obvious that when guys defend women's rights or claim to be feminists or obsessively fight for justice in the name of their murdered parents that they're just doing it to impress the ladies. Even if a guy declared he was a feminist and a woman was all, "Oh my! Do me in the thingy!" and he declined to do her in the thingy, I would suspect he was only declining in the hopes better looking women will be impressed by his staunch beliefs and ask him to do their thingy later. Not one heterosexual guy in the history of heterosexual guys has ever done anything that wasn't a move to get himself laid.

Which, sure, you might think is an odd belief coming from an Incel whose every expressed belief and conviction sounds like something you'd say if you were trying to never get laid ever again (or for the first time even). You'd think I'd look at the way white knights' armor is rusting from pussy juices and come to the conclusion that faking being suave and nice and kind and interesting and competent would be the better way to go if I wanted to stop being an Incel. Well, maybe you haven't been listening, Chad, but no matter what I do, I'll never get a woman to be interested in me because they're shallow jerks who only want to have sex with good looking or interesting or competent or kind or sexually experienced men! I know my place and I'm determined to prove my point that the world is stacked against me and women are shallow asses by digging this hole deeper and deeper! See how much I'm not getting laid? I think that proves my point!

In this series, The Joker concocted an intricate plan to save Gotham. At least that's what all the blue pilled sheep probably believe after reading it. But as I pointed out, everything every guy does is in service to getting laid. And Joker's big plan was simply to convince Harley that he wasn't a psychotic, abusive bastard so that she'll go back to fucking him. And it works!

Don't believe me? The cover even proves my point!

See? The focal point of the battle to save Gotham was the ice cannon. But the cover shows the ice cannon was really Joker's penis.

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Jokes for Incels!

How many women does it take to screw in a lightbulb?
How the fuck should I know? I've never seen a woman screw anything.


Knock knock!
Who's there?
A woman!
Bullshit.


What's black and white and red all over?
A vagina? Maybe?


Thirty two horses on a red hill. First they champ then they stamp then they refuse to have sex with me. What are they?
Feminists.


A grasshopper walks into a bar. The bartender says, "Hey! We've got a drink named after you!" So the grasshopper says, "You have a drink named Virgin Tom Collins?" And the bartender says, "Yeah, you loser!"

* * * * * * * * * *

A Few Parting Words

Some people might think it's funny to call somebody else a virgin. But those people are hurtful jerks. There's nothing funny about being a virgin. Not being able to have sex or feel intimacy with another person is the worst thing that can happen to a person. Some people might think, "Well then why don't you just pay for it already so that you stop thinking about it all of the time?" That might seem like an answer and maybe it actually is an answer because if I got laid, I'd feel relieved and a lot less anxious about it. But it's also not the answer because even if everything about our name, Involuntary Celibate, leads people to believe it's all about sex (and it totally is right up until somebody brings up the bit about going to a prostitute), we'll totally move the goalposts as soon as such an obvious answer to our problem is espoused. So it's not about sex at all! What we want is to be loved by a woman who doesn't make us throw up in our mouth a little bit when we look at her (even if we make her projectile vomit across the room by looking at us (or by just listening to our rhetoric)). We also might want a little bit of power over the fairer sex because even though people talk about the Patriarchy and how men have the power, that isn't the case because why am I not having loads of sex then? Women have all the power because they get to say no to our disgusting advances. And I'm tired of that! When do I get the power, hunh?! When do I get to dictate when I have sex?! Why is it always the woman who gets to say yes or no (and, by the way, they always say no which is why we need a new model for relationships!)?

I suppose what I'm trying to say is that the whole Incel movement isn't about sex at all. If it was, there would be a simple solution: pay for it. And since I'm still a virgin (as are all the terrible people on the Incel Forum I frequent on an hourly basis to express my disappointment and rage), it sort of proves that we're not willing to accept a reasonable solution to ending our sexlessness. That's because it's all about power and we're going to gain that power one way or another. Women won't have sex with us? Well we're going to terrorize them until they do! That'll definitely work, right? MAGA!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Booster Gold has a massive schlong.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


Jesse Chris
A Grunion Guy Story
By Grunion Guy

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

The End!


Comic Book Reviews!

Eternity Girl #2
By Visaggio, Liew, and Chuckry

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

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

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

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

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

Two point six out of five stars.


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

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


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

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


Suicide Squad #39
By Williams, Edwards, and Arreola

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


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

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

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

One star out of seven.


Action Comics #1000
By lots of people.

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

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

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

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

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

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

58 stars out of 1000.


Kick-Ass #3
By Millar and Romita Jr.

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

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


Deadman #6
By Neil Adams

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Zero stars out of ten.

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Grunion Guy's Musical Corner of Music Reviews!

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

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

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

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

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

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Letters to Me!

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

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

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

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

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

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

* * * * * * * * * *

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

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

* * * * * * * * * *

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

Eee! Tess Ate Chai Tea: The Newsletter #17 (Fifth Week of March 2018)

E!TACT! #17
"A Reminiscence", Justice League #40, Batman: White Knight #6, Shade the Changing Woman #1, Eternity Girl #1, Action Comics #999, Suicide Squad #37, Justice League of America #26, Detective Comics #976, Grunion Guy's Musical Corner of Music Reviews, and Grunion Guy's Movie Reviews!
By Grunion Guy

A Reminiscence
By Grunion Guy

My editor, Pickle Boy, was sniffing the hand he just used to scratch his crotch when he said to me, "You know what, Boss?"

He calls me boss because I told him he has to.

"Boss," he said, "Boss, I think you should begin the newsletter with some kind of prologue. Like an essay or a sexy picture of you and your cat or something. You can't just begin with a comic book review that nobody cares about."

"And yet they'll care about some stupid essay which won't have anything important to say because I don't really care about anything at all? I mean, sure, I get what you're saying about the sexy picture though."

"Maybe you should write a story! Everybody loves your stories! Remember how those three junior high school girls in St. Louis went nuts for 'A Really Scary Story' and practically died when you creepily began following them on Twitter?"

"That wasn't creepy! That was cool! I was a star touching them with greatness!"

"You shouldn't say you touched them. I know I dropped out of law school to make sandwiches but I think I remember touching underage girls isn't great," Pickle Boy replied as he put too many onions on my sandwich.

"Hey, can you guys hurry it along, please?" said an old bat waiting to order her sandwich. She was super annoying and probably the villain in this story. I'm sure after she left Subway, she wandered off to poison an orphanage.

"I metaphorically touched them!" I shouted so that everybody stopped eating their sandwiches and crunching their chips and smacking their stupid lips. One of them probably said, "I'll have what he said!" and the audience remembered it forever. "Besides," I continued in my defense against pedophilia, "They're all in college now."

Pickle Boy sighed. He always sighs when I mention college girls. I think it might be because, in college, he did it with one that looked like a 3-D misprint of the hot girl at the local coffee shop (or at least that's what he claims). This was before he went to law school. Most of the girls he asked out in law school would respond, "Are you wearing acid washed jeans?" and then he didn't date them.

"You probably shouldn't talk about it anyway," droned on Pickle Boy. "Why don't you ever talk about your adult male fans?"

"Gross!" I exclaimed! If this script gets turned into a movie and the director decides to place it in the 80s, you could have me say "Gay!" instead of "Gross!" It would probably resonate better with older audience members who will turn to each other and nod enthusiastically while saying, "That's right! We used that word for everything back then!" Then a millennial will shush them and give them some side-eye before subtweeting them in a twenty-six long tweet thread about problematic older people and how they've ruined everything with their talking too loud in Subway shops and anti-pedophilia stances that sound suspiciously like joking about pedophilia. As if they know anything! Maybe they should concentrate on those old women getting pushy in the queue at Subway! They're the real monsters!

"Anyway, Boss," Pickle Boy kept on going. "You should think about it."

And I did think about it! But I decided I didn't have anything to say so I wrote about comic books instead.

The End!

Comic Book Reviews!

Justice League #40
By Priest, Woods, and Sotomayor

In this issue, the Justice League will be battling the Justice League of America. The cover shows them matching up against each other and I thought I'd predict who might win each battle.

Superman vs. Batman: Batman will win because Superman can't use lethal force. He also won't want to hurt Batman by using non-lethal force. But Batman can do whatever he wants to Superman because he knows he can't kill him. So Batman wins simply because the two combatants are fighting using different rules of engagement. And Superman's rules of engagement are lame (no offense to cripples meant!).

Aquaman vs. Black Canary: Black Canary will win because Aquaman has sensitive ears for hearing underwater. So she'll just introduce herself and Aquaman will fall on his knees and yell, "I yield!"

Wonder Woman vs. Vixen: Wonder Woman will win. Although I don't think it's right to show a white woman beating down a woman of color. I just thought I'd say that so everybody knows I'm awakened. Also I truly believe it! Such bad form, DC!

Cyborg vs. The Ray: This is the most even match-up in the group because a white gay male is equal to a black heterosexual male in the world of identity politics. Unless that's both racist and homophobic and then I think The Ray will win because Cyborg is boring.

The Flash vs. The Atom: This could be an interesting battle. How can The Flash outrun what he can't see when The Atom goes subatomic? But how can The Atom get inside The Flash's urethra when The Flash is so quick? Now maybe you see why I'm so excited for this penis. I mean battle!

Both Green Lanterns vs. Killer Frost: This is the "Which characters do I still have to draw?" match-up. It doesn't make any sense to waste two Green Lanterns on Killer Frost. Are we supposed to think Killer Frost can only be contained by two Green Lantern bubble cages? Or are we supposed to think, "Oh yeah! Simon Bax and Jessica Cruz barely even equal one Guy Gardner!" Okay, that's what I'm supposed to think. All the real comic book fans thought Hal Jordan.

The issue begins with the Justice League arguing about how racist they are. In the time it takes for the first word of the first person who begins the debate, The Flash could have evacuated all of the poor people. But he doesn't because he's the biggest racist of them all.

It's still cool to think Lobo is cool, right?

Speaking of how cool Lobo is, does anybody remember that anonymous guy who kept replying to all of my Twat Lobo reviews as if I were the most serious and dedicated reviewer of all time? How could he read any of my reviews and think that I was being serious? I think commenting on the Internet gives you brain damage. He had to be one of Cullen Bunn's friends, right? Or even Cullen Bunn himself?

He responded to my review of Justice League of America Rebirth #1 with this:

[First quoting me] "Lobo, like Rorschach, transcended the authorial criticism inherent in his creation!"

Transcended, no. Becoming the very thing he was supposed to condemn? Definitely."

First off, I ended that quote with an exclamation point! That's the first clue that I'm being a hyperbolic fanboy! What's worse is that I don't think he read the next few lines: "Also he looks super cool and sexy, wears radical knee pads that don't make any fucking sense, rides a motorbike, looks like he's wearing clown make-up, has a butt-rocker sense of style, and is way into space dolphins. He's the fucking best ever." The idiot can't even see that I'm doing that thing where I'm defending how he transcended the criticism with evidence that exposes that I'm just a stupid fan that loves all the dumb, satiric stuff about him!

Man, that guy was an asshole. I'm sure glad he's not one of my E!TACT Newsletter readers!

Also, I love Lobo so much!

The two Justice Leagues never battle. Granted, the cover just says they "collide" so I guess it's technically not a great big fraud to sell more comic books. Instead of punching each other, they spend most of the issue shitting themselves as the Watchtower plummets out of orbit with them in it. For some reason, Cyborg isn't able to Boom Tube them out and nobody has Doctor Fate's phone number. The Green Lanterns could have saved the day but they went on that mission with Martian Manhunter. Do you remember that because the cover artist didn't.

Rating: This issue was a bit boring. It was mostly everybody arguing about who should get to sacrifice themselves for the greater good. For some reason when Aquaman proclaimed he should, nobody said, "Yeah, yeah. Sounds like a good idea!"


Batman: White Knight #6
By Murphy and Hollingsworth

Rating: I'm fairly certain I missed Issue #3 in this series and I didn't even notice until this week. That might be a critique of this story or a critique of comic books in general. I could probably miss an entire week of books and when I was confused reading the books the month after, I'd merely assume it was my own memory at fault. Every new comic book should come with a reprint of the previous month's book.


Shade the Changing Woman #1
By Castellucci, Zarcone, and Fitzpatrick

I decided to give this series a chance even though I didn't like the character of Shade the Changing Girl and the series is still being written by Castellucci. Maybe now that she's a woman, things will get interesting. If you're an adult, you know what I mean by interesting and I don't have to explain how the birds and the bees makes you feel so good that you can't tell kids about it or else they'll start doing it immediately. You have to say things like, "Do you want to ruin your life with a baby like I did?!" and that might not go over well on your child's mental health further down life's road. Also you don't want to have to hear your child say, "What does masturbation have to do with procreation?!" Then you have to pretend you're angry so you can stomp out of the room and into the kitchen where you keep the dictionary stuffed in the junk drawer. After you've read the definition and sighed with relief that "procreation" doesn't have anything to do with "pro-life" which probably means your masturbating teenager isn't a filthy, disgusting member of the illogical religious right, you can go back into their room and threaten to take the door off its hinges if they won't stop enjoying their bodies in the way you don't want to think about your kid enjoying their body! Then they'll probably say something smart like, "Oh, so you want to watch me?!"

After you finish cleaning up your vomit from the doorway, you decide to do what every adult in the history of adulthood eventually decides to do: live in denial while making your kid do their own laundry. That settles that!

If you're not an adult, you probably didn't understand anything I just wrote and probably shouldn't think about it for too long.

See? Much better!

Rating: I lied. The occasional drawing of a booby doesn't make it better at all. The main problem with this book is that it has too much to say and doesn't ever get around to saying any of it. It acknowledges as many problems with life and identity as it can but never says anything about the way humans deal with those problems. Shade just goes, "Beauty!" Then she sees herself in a mirror as an anorexic and also as somebody with lots of plastic surgery. Then she moves on to say, "War!" Cue the shot of protesters facing off against each other with signs that read "You're wrong!" and "We're right!" on them.

"Whoa!" I think. "I've never thought of it that way! Could you explain a bit more, Shade?"

"NO!" she screams and goes on to say how love can make you sad and happy without any context or emotion. But I'm sure a bunch of readers read that and thought, "Holy fuck! That's exactly what love is like! Man, such good stuff!"

But it isn't. It's trite. Unless I mean tripe. Maybe both?


Eternity Girl #1
By Visaggio, Liew, and Chuckry

This series seemed interesting based on the backup Eternity Girl stories in the Milk Wars saga. But as I typed the creators names, I realized Sonny Liew was doing the art and almost immediately lost all interest while also getting super angry about how terrible his and Paul Levitz's Doctor Fate was.

Why do you keep making me remember bad things, Brain? You're the worst. No wonder I love Penis so much more.

Eternity Girl is suicidal. She teams up with her dead arch-nemesis, Madame Atom, to destroy all space and time since it's the only way Eternity Girl can die. While she's making these plans, she hangs out with her therapist, lying about how she's doing better and she's ready to go back to work. So, you know, like every person who probably committed suicide after which their friends and family all said, "But she seemed so happy and successful!"

Rating: I like this book so far. My only hope is that they don't push the idea that Eternity Girl's sense of meaningless and purposelessness is the main reason she's suicidal. It was brought up a bit but, as we all know (at least, I think we all know if I imagine everybody is just like me in the way my therapist told me I must imagine if I'm to not seem like a sociopath everywhere I go), existential crises don't automatically end in suicide. In fact, embracing the meaningless of it all makes some people (should I say everybody or is that just me projecting myself onto others? What is empathy?!) into much better people. The knowledge that this is all there is and none of it matters can make you a monster or a saint.

I should write a comic book called Saint Monster! Dibs! Or Copyrights! Or Trademarks! Pickle Boy, get to lawyering!

Anyway, suicide often has no other reason than an imbalance of stupid brain chemicals. You hear that, Brain? Nobody ever committed suicide over an imbalance of stupid penis chemicals! And don't blame Penis for getting sexually transmitted diseases! It was Brain's responsibility to prevent those, you idiot. Um, so, you know. I hope the creators don't try to work through Eternity Girl's suicidal tendencies in some way that logically shows why she shouldn't be suicidal. Hopefully she doesn't find that she does matter and then decides she wants to live. I'm more than half hoping (possibly 95% hoping?) that she winds up killing herself and taking us all with her.


Action Comics #999
By Jurgens, Conrad, and Nunes

It took nine hundred and ninety nine comics but Superman finally realized that throwing criminals into the Phantom Zone was a dick move. His first (and possibly only?) step in correcting this attitude is letting Hank Henshaw out. After which Superman immediately imprisons him in an Inertron cell (unless it's Adamantium) and puts him into a hallucinatory state so he won't cause trouble. Jurgens seems to be telling this tale to show that Superman is too good to be corrupted like, in the other half of the story, Sam Lane fears. Instead, it simply shows that Sam Lane is correct. Superman does believe he's above the law. What gives Superman the right to hold a dangerous criminal in captivity without a trial? How is that not exactly what General Lane is talking about when he fears Superman might take control to keep Earth safe?

Although, to be fair, what's Superman supposed to do? He sees how Batman just leaves dangerous criminals to the system and they wind up inside Arkham Asylum's revolving door. If Superman were to let humans deal with the threats he takes care of, it would be irresponsible!

Although, to be fair in a fairer way, Superman's foes always seem to escape just like Batman's enemies. So Superman can either follow the law and the villains he captures will still escape, or he can imprison people illegally while they still manage to escape. Since nobody can keep a comic book villain locked up, Superman should at least choose the option that doesn't make him look like a fascist.

Rating: Most of the comic revolves around Lois and Sam measuring their dicks. That's why Superman and Hank Henshaw have to punch each other for a few pages even though Superman really just wanted to talk with Henshaw. It's weird how characters in comic books can't have a conversation without first punching each other in the face for a few pages. I was really surprised that General Lane didn't smack Lois a few times.

I suppose DC had to make this issue boring so that Issue #1000 will seem extra exciting!


Suicide Squad #37
By Williams, Luis, Tarragona, and Lucas

I keep thinking I'm going to take a few hours to read through all the comic books on the stack but then I read something like Suicide Squad #37 and think, "That was fucking painful. I'm exhausted. Why do I keep doing this to myself?"

Although looking at this cover, I know exactly why I did this to myself. I think in a few minutes, I'm going to do it to myself again.

Ranking: It's possible Captain Boomerang died again this issue. The problem is the "again" part of that statement. I think every person on this team has died and then come back. This isn't the Suicide Squad. It's the Resurrection Squad. This comic books is terrible. I wonder how quickly sales would drop if DC Comics removed Harley Quinn from the team?

Man, I wish they'd remove Harley Quinn from the team.


Justice League of America #26
By Orlando, Mendonça, Vines, Faucher, and Sotomayor

Ranking: Poor, poor Justice League of America. For 25 issues, it had a free pass to be the best comic book DC currently publishes. That time has passed. Lobo has left the team. Although he did keep his JLA teleporter token, so he'll probably make guest appearances when sales begin to dip. The other reason this comic book has just trespassed into terrible territory? The next story features Chronos and begins twenty years from now. If only I had any reason to be optimistic about comic book time travel stories, I would be on the verge of arousal. But comic books have a long history of telling the laziest time travel stories in creation. I bet even The Bible told at least one decent time travel story.


Detective Comics #976
By Tynion IV, Fernandez, and Kalisz

Tynion begins this issue with a character saying, "The future is such a strange concept." The character then goes on to spew shit from his mouth. I know it's shit because it isn't anything that I would have said. What I would have said is, "The future is exactly like the past except we can't remember it for some reason." That makes sense, right? Imagine sitting on a bus. You haven't yet shit yourself and you don't remember shitting yourself. In some sense, you actually think that you won't ever shit yourself on the bus. But after two minutes of thinking, "I won't shit myself on this bus," you shit yourself while on the bus. Most people might think, "I really should have avoided this situation. And I'm sure I could have if I'd taken the proper measures to not shit on the bus." But what they should be thinking is this: "Whelp. I guess I was always going to shit on the bus. It definitely was my fault that I shit on the bus because I shouldn't have done all that crack and eaten all of that three day old chicken vindaloo. But since I was always going to do all of that crack and eat all of that chicken vindaloo, I really had no choice but to shit on the bus."

Not that I believe in fate! I'm just a pragmatist! Unless I mean realist! Unless I really mean idiot. It's just that we can't change the past so we probably can't change the future either. Unless time is like cement. There's probably a window of time where things set and then your course is stuck. But past that window, the cement is still being mixed in the cement truck. That's when you can avoid shitting yourself while on the bus. But once you're on the bus, it's too fucking late, man! You really shouldn't have smoked all that crack vindaloo.

Look, I'm not smart enough to understand time! I can't even understand space! And I don't mean outer space. I mean my own living space! How does one go about creating a life out of these shitty raw materials?! Sometimes I think the only way to get by is to shrug your shoulders, hold your nose, and jump into the deep end of adulthood. There's a certain amount of confidence needed to pretend you're as adult as all the other people doing a really good job of pretending they’re adults. Sometimes I think I'm still in the changing room refusing to take off my underwear so I can get into my swimming trunks.

Does that prove that I don't understand space and time? The fact that I made it into a swimming metaphor? It might actually be pretty apt because I refuse to swim in a public pool. I also refuse to participate wholly in society. I think maybe there are parallels there. Although one of those mostly has to do with how I'm trying to avoid submerging my body in the piss of other people.

Rating: This comic book has too many characters I either don't care about or hate to the bottom of my bowels: Tim Drake, Jean-Paul Valley, Stephanie Cluemaster, Tim Drake, and Tim Drake. I've always considered him the worst Robin. At least when I forget about Jason Todd, I do.

Grunion Guy's Musical Corner of Music Reviews!

Memory by Concrete Blonde
Concrete Blonde might be my favorite band of all time. This song is from Group Therapy, an album which came out after I believed they had broken up forever. The Non-Certified Spouse saw it and bought it for me before I even knew it existed. Not long after that, we were having lunch at Marco's Subs on Hawthorne and I picked up a Willamette Week to scan the local clubs to see who was playing. That's when I saw Concrete Blonde was playing at Dante's that night. So that was how I first saw Concrete Blonde live. Apparently at that concert was a friend from high school who had no idea I was living in Portland. She didn't come up to say anything to me and I didn't know she was even there until some months later. A mutual friend on Facebook mentioned she'd seen me at the Concrete Blonde show. It was only then that I remember seeing somebody at the bar who I thought kept staring at me and even sort of thinking, "That looks like Lisa." Turns out it was!
   That was a memory I had while listening to the song Memory!
   None of that has anything to do with this song which is slower than maybe I'd like. But since it's still sung by Johnette, I can't not like it. Her voice is fucking incredible.
Grade: B+.

How You Get the Girl by Taylor Swift
This song begins with Taylor having the most mediocre orgasm. I would have added "I've ever heard" but it's the only one I've heard so far. I think. Anyway, Taylor Swift gives advice on getting girls in this song. The gist of it is this: lie to her a lot. Say stuff like, "I want to be with you all the time!" and "I would wait for you forever and ever, even if you're fucking all of my friends constantly" and "I would rather hold your hand for hours than play Fortnite Battle Royale" and "I'm sorry for having fun without you" and "It's not a chore to make you orgasm after I get mine almost immediately!"
   It's catchy in that way pop songs are catchy.
Grade: B.

Heaven on Their Minds by Carl Anderson
Possibly my favorite song from Jesus Christ Superstar! I just recently found a new Karaoke place that lists this song among their inventory. That means I'll be singing it soon in front of drunk strangers! I have no idea how many times I've seen this movie (at regular speed as well as fast forward while on LSD). I've seen the musical live twice: once with Ted Neely as Jesus and both times with Carl Anderson as Judas. He's my favorite so it makes me happy to have seen him perform before he died. I didn't watch the recent live version of this although I did look up Alice Cooper as Herod to watch his performance on YouTube. I wasn't thrilled about the way he sang the song but I enjoyed watching him play the part. He's my favorite too!
   It's possible I don't know what the word favorite means.
Grade: A+.

All You Had to Do Was Stay by Taylor Swift
Fuck you, iTunes! Your random feature is the worst. Maybe I should just begin skipping songs when iTunes repeats an album in these short lists. Otherwise the list just gets shorter as I forget to talk about one of the songs because I'm too busy cussing at iTunes.
   Anyway, this song is another catchy pop song. Except this one has a bonus feature: every time Taylor Swift says the word "stay" in a high pitched voice, it's like getting an ice pick rammed into the front of your skull!
    I think this song is about a guy who broke up with Taylor Swift (I know all of her songs are about that! I haven't gotten to the bit that makes it different yet! At least I think it makes it different) but he wants to fuck her again. And she's all, "Dude. If you wanted to put your penis in my vagina, all you had to do was [ICE PICK IN MY SKULL]!"
Grade: C.

Interjections by Bob Dorough
This is that Schoolhouse Rock song that everybody my age remembers. I like to sing it as "Expletives."

He cured the infection,
With one small injection,
While Reginal uttered some expletives!
Asshole, that smarts!
Shit! That hurt!
Fuck! That's not fair!
Givin' a guy a shot down there!

But that isn't the best part of the song! The date rape part gets even better!

Though Geraldine played hard to get,
Geraldo knew he'd woo her yet.
He showed his affection
With a meat injection
While Geraldine hollered some expletives!

I guess it isn't as date rapey when I change it to my lyrics. The original song goes like this: "He showed his affection despite her objections while Geraldine hollered some interjections." I think a few of those interjections are "No means no!" and "Help! Rape!" and, of course the last one, "Hey! You're kind of cute!" This song might be Ground Zero for Rape Culture. Did I capitalize too many words in that last sentence? I might be edging into conspiracy theorist territory!
Grade: B- (it's not the best Schoolhouse Rock song but it certainly isn't any Busy Prepositions. Ugh! (Oh look! Interjections!)).

Grunion Guy's Movie Reviews!

Boy
This was the greatest movie I've ever seen in my life up until a certain point that I'm going to spoil in the following sentences and possibly even this one. No wait. It wasn't that one. But soon, I'm sure!
   First off, everybody has New Zealand accents in this film by Taika Waititi. That already gives the movie +75 percentage points in my 1-100% rating system. How can you not love the New Zealand accent? I sometimes wonder how anybody in New Zealand can argue with anybody else in New Zealand. Wouldn't they all just start giggling and feeling good because they're listening to other New Zealand accents? I bet the only time anybody argues in New Zealand is when some stupid Australian steps foot on their island.
    Second off, the characters in this movie make me ashamed of my own personality. Why can't I be written as well as Rocky was written? Or Boy? Or Falcon Crest? Just a spectacular array of characters, with almost all of whom I fell in love, even if they didn't have any lines or much screen time.
   Third off, am I doing a movie review correctly? I feel like I should be smarterer. I mean, third off, Taika Waititi might be the most charming person in existence. The only person more charming is Taika Waititi when he's with either Jemaine Clement or Rhys Darby.
    Now is the part where I spoil the movie! This movie was pure joy and I was thinking, "This is my favorite movie! Do I even know what 'favorite' means? You know what? I don't care! This movie is my favorite." And then the goat was hit by the car and killed. Then all of my joy left me and I cried. I cried a lot. Then after the movie was over, I went into the bathroom, sat on the toilet, and sobbed. I don't think I sobbed as much as when my cat Judas died but I definitely sobbed more than after the finale of Mad Men. Also, I still don't know exactly why that made me weep snottily. Maybe I'm broken in that way Douglas Coupland warns in Generation X?
    I suppose even with the death of the goat, this movie was better than all the movies. I think maybe the goat was meant to get the viewer over the edge because there was so much low-level sadness in this thing but it was hard to tell it was sad because the accents and the cute characters. But then the goat died and you're left thinking, "Oh yeah. Some of this is really fucking terrible! Fuck you, life! You suck!" But then they all do the Maori dance to that super popular Maori song while dancing like Thriller and everybody is happy again. Also the goat doesn't really die. You have to stick around until the after credits scene to learn that.
Rating: 98%

What Am I Currently Reading?!

I just finished reading Piers Anthony's Apprentice Adept series. The last time I was in Seattle visiting my friend Xan (no relation to the land of Xanth, probably), we began talking about Piers Anthony for some reason. It's when I remembered this series. I told her it was where I first learned the word demesnes and I still didn't know how to pronounce it correctly. She also remembered the book where she learned that word but I don't remember what she said because I don't listen very well.
   Rereading the series was interesting because I'd forgotten how poorly the whole thing ties up (not that it's all tied up! I believe Anthony wrote more stories in this world later. I suppose I'll read those next). At the time we talked about the books, I remembered a couple of things. The main thing was that the characters compete in some elaborate game system where they pick categories to decide what they'll be playing. I didn't remember any of the games except the one where the main character competes against a person playing musical instruments. The other player is better but the main character shows the audience how to tap with their heel instead of their toe because that moves their whole leg. It's the only way white people know how to show excitement while listening to music, I guess. What a revelation though! Tap with your heel? Crazy!
   The main thing I learned from this series is that maybe I don't have enough life left in me to be reading books I've read before. Especially books I read when I was twelve. Why would I take advice from that smelly idiot?!


And that's a wrap on this week's newsletter! Goodbye, jerkos!