Showing posts with label Constantine. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Constantine. Show all posts

Thursday, April 23, 2026

Eee! Tess Ate Chai Tea: The Newsletter #27 (First Week of June 2018)

E!TACT #27
Hit Girl #4, The Hellblazer #22, No Justice #3, No Justice #4, Plastic Man #1, Terrifics #4, Poetry Corner, and Grunion Guy's Musical Corner of Music Reviews!
By Grunion Guy


Comic Book Reviews!


Hit Girl #4
By Millar and Lopez Ortiz

Hit-Girl murders a bunch of people in violent and gory ways and I've lost all sense of why this comic book exists. Is it a parody of overly violent super-heroes? Is it a serious statement about how only brutal means are effective against brutal criminals? Is it simply a joke thought up by Millar while out drinking one night: "What if a tween girl becomes an assassin for justice?! How humiliating would it be to get split in two by a katana wielded by a young girl with unicorn earrings on her ears and a maxi-pad junior in her underwear?!" Whatever the reason for this comic book's existence, I think I finally reached my murder threshold after this issue. About half the pages in this comic book are simply panels showing drug dealers being slaughtered in graphic detail. If the ultimate joke of this book is that a young child is really efficient at killing people, I think I've lost my taste for it.

I know that's what the comic book has been about for years! It's just that, for some inexplicable reason that I can't put my trigger finger on, it has lost its abstract nature and has become more realistic than I think even Millar wanted this comic book and Kick-Ass to feel. Maybe it would be different if Hit-Girl were sympathetic or likable in some fashion. But she's just a psychotic teenage sociopath who uses a vague sense of morality to rationalize her love of killing. I just don't think that's enough for me anymore.


Wait. He knows the "loves to murder for the fun of it" part of her. What's the other half that makes her a monster?! Is she into fucking goats against their will?

Rating: Oh, who am I kidding? I'll probably keep reading this. What a premise: a tween girl who's an expert assassin! Ha ha! So unbelievable!


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The Hellblazer #22
By Seeley, Fabbri, Dalla Vecchia, and Strachan

Rating: This comic book expects me to remember everything that has happened in all twenty-one issues before it. I can't be bothered. Or it's physically impossible for me to remember twenty pages of comic book that I spend five to ten minutes on once a month over the last two years. But that's just depressing to think about because I used to be able to remember things like that. Maybe it was just that I was somehow passionate about comic books thirty years ago and so the stories stuck better. But now most of them don't have any real impact and I can't give up any mental real estate on remembering all of the demons Constantine has pissed off over the last two years. So instead of saying, "I just can't remember any plots to any comic books I read so why am I bothering with them?", I'd rather say, "I can't be bothered to remember any of The Hellblazer stories." It makes me feel more in control even when I just explained how it's all a big lie.

Is it better to be so delusional that you don't know you're deluded or better to understand and proudly embrace your delusional nature? I think one of those makes you a Fox News viewer and the other makes you a Shakespearean character.


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No Justice #3
By Snyder, Tynion IV, Williamson, Rossmo, To, and Hi-Fi

Wonder Woman activates the Tree of Wonder by believing in herself. She also has the help of her teammates who make sure to believe in her too. My concern is this: it took Brainiac's intelligence to put together a group of people who could believe in Wonder Woman? Couldn't any four other people from Earth have been placed on Wonder Woman's team? I mean aside from members of 4chan and Gamergate dudes. It's this type of lazy writing that practically forces me to be a cynic while reading comic books. Since no plot reasons were needed for Team Wonder, it becomes an arbitrary and generic group of DC magic users. Couldn't Snyder have come up with a specific reason for every character to be on each team? That's what I was expecting. Although I shouldn't be coming up with arguments to make this series any longer than four issues. Maybe it's better if each character fits on the team for only the most tenuous of reasons.

I suppose, from Snyder's point of view, every member of Team Wonder had a role. Etrigan woke up the angry spirits of the dead so that Zatanna would notice that their magic doesn't work so well. Then Raven was able to pipe up that her empathy still worked just fine which gave Wonder Woman the idea to believe in herself.

I didn't say Snyder's point of view was genius.

On Team Wisdom, Harley shows why she's needed when she says something wacky. It allows Cyborg to have an epiphany! Of course that epiphany is that he has a Mother Box at his disposal which he really should have remembered on his own. The Mother Box enables Cyborg to fuck the Tree of Wisdom.


While the other trees need to be awakened, the Tree of Wisdom needs to be calmed down. It'll probably need a nap after this.

In the end, the Justice League fails to save Colu. They do manage to save hundreds of planets that the Coluans had in cold storage so that's a decent trade. The main problem is that Galactus the Omega Titans are now heading to Earth to devour it. And the only hero standing in their way is Green Arrow. Maybe he'll confuse them all by being wonderful, mysterious, wise, and chaotic.

Rating: The only thing I ask when a writer takes up a premise like this is to fulfill that premise. If you're going to base a story on how the only people who can save the world are four specific teams that nobody ever thought of forming, the composition of those teams should make a difference to the story. I guess that's why Snyder had Brainiac killed. It's an easy way to say, "These teams were meant to save the universe via a Rube Goldbergian dynamic. But only Brainiac could make that happen and he died. So now they're just winging it in an effort to save the universe." Also they fail which is more proof that they just didn't utilize the teams correctly. So I can see, story-wise, how Snyder can get away with failing to provide what he advertised. But he can't get away from me judging him for taking the lazy way out. 1 out of 5 stars!

P.S. I often have trouble coming up with a name or a specific word I want to use because my brain is a traitor and an asshole. But over the course of my life, I've developed circuitous ways to find that word or name. But now with the Internet, I can find the word or name much quicker! I was blocked on "Rube Goldberg" so I just went to Google and typed in "complicated contraption to cook egg." First hit: Wikipedia's entry for Rube Goldberg machine.


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No Justice #4
By Snyder, Tynion IV, Williamson, Manapul, and Hi-Fi

The back cover of this issue reads, "At the twilight of humanity...Dawn of the Omega Titans!" I hope Dawn is hot. Shit, listen to me! I sound like a comic book reading noob! Of course Dawn is hot! She's a female in a comic book! If there's one thing comic books have gotten right, it's getting rid of all the uggos!

I had to check with Urban Dictionary to make sure "uggo" didn't have any racial or sexist connotations before using it. Turns out it's just a mean word to use on ugly people so I think that's okay. People stopped caring about what ugly people had to say the day MTV launched. Anyway, being super lazy, I never type in the actual URL of any site I'm going to even when the site is super obvious. I just type in the part that site's name between the www and the dot com. But when I typed "urban" into the address bar, my stupid browser tried to finish it with outfitters! Are there any lawyers who specialize in suing predictive text applications because I'm extremely offended right now.

My brain just asked itself the most important question that can be asked about this comic book series: "Why is it called 'No Justice'?" That's a good question, brain! Better than the question my penis was asking which I won't repeat because you'll never enjoy a Pop Tart ever again if you heard it.

So, um, why no justice? Probably because everything is random and "justice" is just our way of trying to create order out of chaos. There's no justice in four cosmic Galacti, having been summoned by Earth's heroes' actions to save the universe, suddenly arriving to destroy the universe. My supposition is that, in the end, the idea that there is no benevolent will behind the creation and movement of the universe will be the impetus behind the Justice League working even harder to instill order. Superman will step forward and say, "If there is no inherent justice in this uncaring and unforgiving shithole of a void, then let us stand up and become that justice!" Batman will awkwardly try to hide his boner while Wonder Woman will wish she'd installed a thick and absorbent gusset into her costume. Meanwhile the Guardians of the Universe will be shuffling around in the background mumbling, "Real original idea there, Supes." And even further in the back, way down in the shadows, Vril Dox will think, "What kind of pansy-ass justice will they mete out to the universe? To keep this chaos in check, the universe needs a tough anti-hero kind of justice! Time for L.E.G.I.O.N. '18!"

To save Earth, Cyborg comes up with a plan: a play-action pass! That's sports talk for pretending to run when you actually intend to pass. It totally fakes out the defense because the quarterback totally tucks the big fat ball into his armpit after having pretended to give it to the running back. It doesn't work as well as most people think it works because most quarterbacks have small armpits and also aren't good at pretending they don't have the ball. Also, if the Omega Titans are well disciplined, they'll know better than to bite at the fake hand off. They'll keep their positions knowing that the defensive line Omega Titans should be able to handle the run play. Of course, if the running back slaps the shot with a backhand switcheroo, it'll be a home run and the Omega Titans will lose 40-love.

What I'm trying to say is that Cyborg is a black American superhero so he always compares saving the world to football plays. It's probably not racist since he was a high school football star. Which, again, is probably not racist because he was also super smart. What might be racist is the way I'm hyper-aware of all of this race stuff.

Cyborg explains how they can save Earth after downloading Brainiac's mind into his. It's no use explaining it here because it didn't actually make much sense in the comic book either. Something about needing to fire their seed into one of the Omega Titans so that the other ones will eat its now pregnant ass. It's gross and weird and disgusting and now I want a Pop Tart.

Rating: This was just another comic book series that wasn't meant to tell a story so much as move the pieces around the game board so that DC readers would be prepared for a new version of the Justice League on the shelves and understand why there was once again a Justice League Dark and to remind them to buy whatever the fuck Justice League Odyssey was (probably the Justice League in space). It also made sure to mention that an Outsiders comic book was on the way and, although not explicitly revealed as a new title, I'm sure everybody should be saving a few bucks for the new L.E.G.I.O.N. book. Oh, and Green Arrow now has the power to destroy the Justice League if it ever comes to that. How? I don't know. But to stop the Justice League, all you need is a small antique box.


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Plastic Man #1
By Simone, Adriana, and Fitzpatrick


Plastic Man is a smarmy bitch.

With the return of Plastic Man to the DC Universe, DC Comics is declaring they don't give a fuck about being taken seriously anymore. Which is a good thing! Plastic Man is a sign that DC is daring to have fun again. They completely lost their sense of humor for awhile and then doubled down on not ever having a sense of humor ever again with The New 52. "Ambush Bug and Detective Chimp?" spat Dan DiDio into the faces of every writer who dared to mention that they chuckled at Giffen and DeMatteis's Justice League one time. "They're out! Put them in a stupid news feature in the back of the comic book! Make sure everybody knows they're out of continuity!" he declared as he wrote on the white board in the staff meeting room, "Continuity is king!" But after being criticized for a number of New 52 years and realizing that maybe they weren't making the barrels full of cash they had anticipated, Dan DiDio erased the white board and wrote, "Fans are stupid jerks." Then he put Tom King in charge of Batman to make sure everybody knew continuity was less important than great story telling.

By the way, that was a compliment for Tom King! It was also a criticism for all the people who can't stand Tom King's Batman because they wouldn't know a good story if Scott Lobdell knew how to write one.

I'm pretty sure I made my point in one of those last two paragraphs so I'm just going to move on without rereading them.

So. Plastic Man. He's perhaps the goofiest comic book character in the DC Universe that isn't named Aquaman. But he has to be taken seriously now because Scott Snyder said so. Although maybe I'm wrong about that because why would DC give a serious character to Gail Simone? She's just going to make him revel in fart and dick jokes.

You know what I just realized? I'm terrible at comic book reviews.

The issue begins with Eel getting his ass kicked by some low life thugs who used to be his friends. Then he makes a dick joke.


I might not know how to review comic books but I know how to spot somebody who loves a good dick joke.

For somebody who thinks they know a good dick joke, I can't even think of one right now. And the more I think about it, the more I realize maybe I've never told one in my entire life! What constitutes a good dick joke? Is it just referencing a penis like in the panel above? Does that count? Is emphasizing Grayson's first name when Bruce is scolding him technically a dick joke? Is the bill for the therapist I hired because the first woman who ever put her hands down my pants chuckled a dick joke? Oh wait! I just remembered a couple of dick jokes! The first one is that one where the guy wishes for a seven inch pianist (which seems weird because why not wish for an eight inch pianist? Is that too much?!). The other one I first heard in fifth grade and I didn't understand it but I pretended to because I didn't want to be embarrassed. It had a really strange premise where a cop was arresting me and a friend and somebody we didn't like (for purposes of the joke at the time, the person my friend and I didn't like was Paul Avila (sorry, Paul, if you're Googling your name!)). For some reason, the perverted cop decided he would let us all go if our penises measured thirteen inches. So I pulled out mine and it was six inches. Then my friend Daniel pulled out his and it was six and a half inches (of course he got the biggest penis! He was telling the joke!). Then Paul pulled out his and it was half an inch. Just enough so that the cop allowed us to go free. Afterward, Paul said, "Whew! Good thing I was popping a boner!" I laughed even though I was in fifth grade and didn't know the slang term "popping a boner." Maybe I was just a late bloomer and had never popped one before. It's hard to say because I didn't keep a boner diary when I was younger.

That last sentence makes it sound like I keep a boner diary now. But that's none of your business.

Anyway, Plastic Man works in a strip club where the strippers dress like superheroes. I hope most of the comic book takes place in this location. A few years ago, I met a stripper who called herself Princess Unicorn Pants. I still regret not running away with her because now I just sit alone at night searching for porn that never exists on Tumblr.


I'm so disappointed in you, Internet.

Later, after Plastic Man has a nightmare about the guy he thinks he killed when he was a criminal, a woman named Obscura shows up in his apartment. She works for Spyral which is probably important because she might know Dick Grayson and Dick Grayson's first name is Dick. Get it?


They get it!

I'm glad Gail Simone deals with the elephant in the room in this first issue otherwise I'd be reading every issue thinking, "So, how big is Plastic Man's penis? Big, right?" And I think this answers the question! Just look at Obscura's face! That's not the face of a woman looking at a tiny penis. I should know because I've never seen that face before.

Obscura wants to discuss the kind of conspiracy you'd learn about if you read Rosanne Barr's Twitter feed. And just as Plastic Man is learning about this conspiracy, he's drawn directly into it! His old criminal pal Benny is murdered and before he dies, he writes, "IT JLA," in blood on the wall. So Obscura was right! The superhero teams have been infiltrated by baddies! I hope they aren't Manhunters again. Or white Martians! Although when your team has Lobo on it, would you really be surprised if people began winding up slaughtered for no reason? Seriously, Batman, maybe try Zip Recruiter next time.

Plastic Man is fingered for the murder which sounds sexier than it really is. He'll probably get away next issue or else this series is just going to be Plastic Man telling dick jokes from a prison cell for fifty issues.

Rating: Three and a half inches out of five inches. Is that enough to satisfy readers? I don't think so. Maybe I should say seven inches out of ten inches. That sounds like a better system, right?! Now to see if maybe PorhHub knows what Sleestaks do in the privacy of their own caves.


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The Terrifics #4
By Shaner, Lemire, and Fairbairn


The killer squid is Plastic Man's fingers. I mean, ew, I hope it's his "fingers."

What does "the new age of heroes" mean? Shouldn't it read "Hey! We really are sorry about The New 52! And we know Rebirth didn't quite convince everybody that we're trying to apologize profusely for The New 52 so will this work? It's a new age of heroes! That means we at DC are recommitted to telling quality stories about heroes you don't give a shit about simply because Scott Snyder used them in that stupid Metal comic book. Not that we think it was stupid! Nobody at DC is rolling their eyes at this statement right now at all! We loved Metal! I mean, it was metal, right?! And 'metal' isn't a category of music that hasn't been relevant for thirty years, Scott! Everybody totally still thinks it's way cool and parents totally suck and jean jackets with 'Slayer' patches never went out of style! So, um, anyway, enjoy this comic book with that idiot Plastic Man in it! And if you think it's wacky that we've brought him back, just wait until you see who's a member of the new Justice League Dark: Detective Chimp! Dan DiDio may never have a boner again. And it's all for the fans!"

That might be a bit too much to put at the top of every new DC comic book. "The New Age of Heroes" probably works better.

If you haven't been reading this comic book, here's a quick summary: Phantom Girl's ass is succulent.

I just looked up the definition for "succulent" because I suspected I might be calling her ass a plant of some sort. But I used it as an adjective which is defined as "tender, juicy, and tasty." So, exactly the word I wanted!

Phantom Girl has a new diary in which she isn't writing secret sex stories about her hand's love affair with her vagina. Instead she's writing silly stuff like how she calls Metamorpho "Rexamorpho" because, I guess, that's cute or something? It makes it sound like she's too young for me to be salivating over her backside. What is Lemire trying to do here?! Make me feel uncomfortable about my lustful feelings for a fictional character?! As if I don't already have enough reasons to hate myself. He could have at least allowed Phantom Girl to begin her diary entry with "According to Bgztl orbit around its sun, I'm only sixteen years old. But that's forty-five in Earth years! So a 45 year old Earth guy could totally eat my ass if he was into that even though I'm going to keep writing in this diary and acting like I'm sixteen. That might seem a little gross to certain people on Tumblr who don't know the definition of 'fictional' but what are older guys reading comic books supposed to jerk off to? Aunt May?! Get with the times, man!"

The Terrifics are on their way to Bgztl to learn how to pronounce it. While they're traveling there, I'm going to watch Drake's video, "I'm Upset," one more time. I'm just really disappointed that Caitlin wasn't in it (just in case you were wondering if I was actually into age appropriate women and their butts).


Tone down the sex talk, Phantom Girl! Geez!

The Terrifics decide that going on an original adventure would be too difficult so they decide to reenact the trash compactor scene from Star Wars. In this day and age, that's an acceptable plot because fans feel smart when they can make the connection between an original work and the thing plagiarizing that work. They call it a "reference" and it elevates a written piece from boring garbage to intelligent pop culture commentary!

Metamorpho brings up the fact that Mister Terrific always called himself the "third smartest person on Earth" and Mister Terrific begins to backpedal on that fact. He's all, "Third smartest?! Why, that's just hyperbole and facetiousness! I'm not really a terrible comic book reviewer that jerks off over young fictional super heroes! Sheesh! Can't you tell the difference between somebody just being entertaining and somebody who's an actual disgusting pervert?!"

The Terrifics bond a bit in the trash compactor while battling the trash squid. It's the perfect amount of letting the readers get to know the characters and letting them bond realistically so the team doesn't seem as forced as the premise that they'll blow up if they separate balanced with just enough action for the people who like to read comic books. After they escape, they arrive on Bgztl to discover that Phantom Girl was trapped in the Dark Multiverse for thirty-two years which means she's really older than I am and I'm totally allowed to think about putting my tongue in her ass. In your face, judgy judgers!

Rating: You know how I often read comic books and think, "Why am I still reading comic books?" Well this comic book didn't make me think that! It was well put together, had great art, and was an enjoyable read. And that's my praise before I even add in Phantom Girl's butt! It also had a sweet message in a saccharine kind of way that some of you emotional nitwits might enjoy.


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Poetry Corner With Grunion Guy!


Amalgamation
When Jesus Christ was crucified,
Kennedy was shot
While Robespierre killed thousands
A Fat Man did the same
During a trial of ideas
Which left a great Greek dead
And caused a sudden rush towards space.

When Jesus Christ was crucified,
Prohibition caused a war
Between Europeans and indigenous
As a man named Jack killed London whores
Lincoln sat and watched a play
Of a culture lost across the sea
And enslaved through countless years.

When Jesus Christ was crucified,
A universe was formed
And dinosaurs roamed through the space
Between atoms and seconds and stars
Between cities which rose to cover the globe
As a flood cleansed this world's sins
In a garden of once perfect bliss.

Jesus Christ was crucified the moment I was born.


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Grunion Guy's Musical Corner of Music Reviews!


Guggenheim Love by Ookla the Mok
Remember the good old days when Ookla the Mok weren't just singing about The Incredible Hulk's lunch program or Captain America's uncircumcised penis? (You might if you aren't just now thinking, "Who the fuck are Ookla the Mok?") Sometimes they sang about their sad and pathetic attempts at relationships as well! This song is about the relationship that tanked for an unknown reason. It might be clear what that reason was if the narrator in the song remembered more of what his girlfriend said other than "Blah blah blah blah!"
      Okay, you know what? That's not fair! Most of the song is actually composed of quotes from the probably fictional girlfriend as she explained art to the asshole. Here's a great line that doesn't hold up so well in this post-Chris-Hardwick future: "I want to smash your face every time you mention negative space." Remember just hours ago when we could laugh at a nerd physically assaulting a woman that actually wants to share her loves with him and even wants to have sex with him? But now I can only shake my head and think, "Stop laughing at that line! Someone might see you and @ you on Twitter about it!"
      The title of this album is Less Than Art which might be my favorite album title of all time. Less because "Less than art" is a good title and more because the cover depicts a burned out K-Mart sign that reads "< art". Don't you just love burned out signs that read differently than they're supposed to?! It's like when a singer is about to rhyme a bad word but then stutters on the first word and winds up saying a non-swear word that doesn't rhyme at all! Classic!
      This song is pretty catchy though! Plus I learned the names of some artists that I can drop into conversations to sound artsy!
Grade: B.


A.M. 180 by Grandaddy
I feel like I just reviewed a song from Grandaddy's Under the Western Freeway! It seems like it might be too soon to review another one. But what can I do? I'm not in control of anything. This universe is chaotic and random and we're just barely hanging on by whichever cliché you want to use (you know, the teeth one or the nails one. There might also be one using the scrotum that I've never heard of but I'd use it if I had).
     This song sounds like a kid playing hopscotch who is suddenly hit by their first bout of severe depression who, about halfway through the song, is suddenly swarmed by bees. It's not to everybody's taste. But if you ever found yourself sitting at a Taco Bell taking another boring bite from the blandest burrito you knew was going to be bland before you even bit into it and thinking, "You know what would make this better? A song that sounds like a child playing hopscotch who suddenly was hit by depression and then was attacked by killer bees," then this is almost certainly the song for you.
      I've realized that hipsters have turned every single band into their own musical genre by appending as many different labels to describe a band's sound as possible so my music reviews can get pretty specific to appeal to their tastes.
Grade: B.


It'll Chew You Up and Spit You Out by Concrete Blonde
I like rock and roll. I seem to prefer rock and roll sung by women or men with women's names like Alice or Marilyn or Iron Maiden. In liking rock and roll, I'd be amiss to not like Concrete Blonde. In some ways, they are what rock and roll wishes it had always been and will always be. Their music has guitars and drums and angst and the occasional cow bell (unless that's just a cymbal (which it probably is)). It's like if you played this song to somebody who had never heard rock and roll before, they would say, "Hey. Is this rock and roll?" Then you could say, "Yeah!" After that, you'd have bonded. You'd both suddenly want to chug a beer out of a can and talk about each other's Levi's. Then one of you might say, "That song was really rock and roll! Let's hear another one by this Concrete Blonde!" And then you'd randomly start playing another one called Mexican Moon and your new friend would spit out their beer and say, "Wait. This isn't rock and roll. What is this?" Then you might have to explain that "It'll Chew You Up and Spit You Out" wasn't exactly indicative of every song sung by Concrete Blonde. You might actually need to apologize too. Then maybe you could play "Spirit of the Radio" by Rush and they, having never heard it before, would probably say, "Is this prog rock?" You'd sigh in relief because now you could go back to drinking beers and talking about jeans, both of you ignoring that whole "Mexican Moon" incident.
Grade: B.


Just Like Heaven by The Cure
When I think of The Cure, I think of this song. Their songs obviously swing wildly from depressed about breaking up with a woman you loved more than life itself to realizing all life is a meaningless pastiche of random events that somehow led to you or an Arab dying in the sand to being so hopelessly in love that you sing about the calendar to spilling milk and fucking like cats. But for some reason, this is the song that makes me think a stranger would hear it and say, "Is this The Cure?"
     This song contains the exact beat and rhythm which, when distilled to its pure essence, could be used to recreate The 80's. It's the sound of 80's dancing. It feels like 80's hair. I can see the way people dressed just by listening to this song. If this song were sent into deep space aboard a craft and discovered by aliens, they would hear it and think, "These Earthlings are fucking cool, man." Then they'd all start dancing like Molly Ringwald.
Grade: A.


Only Women Bleed by Alice Cooper
My dad bought a jukebox for his house about a decade ago. I purchased this single for the jukebox. Not long after that, his current wife removed it from the jukebox because she "realized what it was about" and didn't like it. I put "realized what it was about" in quotes because I'm still not sure what that means. It seems like it's obvious that it's a song about domestic abuse so I tend to think my dad made a menstruation joke about the title and she made a face and went, "Ugh. This is about periods? Gross."
I once dated a woman who asked me, "Why is it always the woman who has to bleed?" after hearing this song. I smashed her in the face and said, "You tell me!" Dammit! That's not even funny in a pre-Chris-Hardwick world, is it?! What I really said after not having done the violent thing I pretended to do that wasn't funny even if it was a callback to the Guggenheim Love song review was this: "In his song, 'Burning Our Bed,' he says, 'Sometimes a man can bleed.' So if you're taking all of your strongly held beliefs about the universe from Alice Cooper songs, take heart! He tells you directly that men bleed too!" My response might have been embellished a bit from what I actually said. But you get the picture.
     Anyway, I coldly broke up with her not long after that and avoided speaking to her ever again. But I least I didn't Chris Hardwick her!
Grade: A-.


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That's all! Can I end with 'That's all!' when it was actually quite a lot to read? I should put secret messages into my writing that lead to a secret stash of ten million dollars. That would probably ensure that people read every fucking word I write! My ego can't take thinking that nobody reads this shit! But would I feel better if people were only reading it because I bribed them to read it? Probably! Which is why there was a secret message in this Newsletter leading to ten million dollars! Good luck!

Tuesday, July 5, 2016

Constantine the Hellblazer #13


Is Constantine bisexual because everybody he meets gets fucked?

The Review or Whatever!
• This issue is called "Worthless" which is a good start toward my prediction that Constantine's plan to rid New York of Neron was to make New York worthless to him.

• Constantine and some of his Justice League Dark pals who he's steal on speaking terms do some magical tweaking of the very nature of New York. Apparently that's something magicians aren't supposed to mess with but since it's never been mentioned until this story, it's really easy for Constantine to break that rule. He breaks them all anyway, right? But how much easier to break a rule that was just made up to be broken! So easy!


He won because the writers are on his side, dummy.

• Constantine has turned New York into the most boring city on the face of the earth, full of boring bores whose souls are worthless. So it's Portland now?

• I wonder if Portland, Maine, has a couple dozen confused hipsters living there?

• Lady Alexandriel of Faerie proves she's a top one percenter by offering to buy out Neron in his time of desperation. She smells somebody about to lose it all and she offers him next to nothing for everything he has. I bet a lot of this is going to be going on in Britain in the next few years. Does Britain get to declare itself its own continent now? Did leaving the European Union cause it to leave Europe completely?! That'd be awesome. Maybe they can call their new continent Pluto.

• In return for helping make New York a part of Faerie, Constantine gets Oliver's daughters' souls back. And New York is...well, probably not a whole lot different. Maybe there will now be a few more musicals?

• Constantine learns a lesson that most people never learn: communicate! Make sure the people close to you know what you're doing so they don't call the police when you keep on taking dozens of kittens into the basement. You don't want to find out the hard way that your Kitten Cuddle Room has branded you as a serial killer. So instead of letting Oliver know that he had a plan to save Oliver's girls, Constantine just rushed off to do it after telling Oliver he failed. So Oliver went out and made a deal with a devil to get his girls back on his own. That devil was Blythe, who really dislikes Constantine right now.

• So once more, Constantine loses somebody he loves because that's just the way Constantine's life is. I would like to say it's a curse and it's through no fault of his own but that would make the character far less interesting, wouldn't it? No, John knew when he approached Oliver that Oliver was probably going to end in a bad way. And even though John thinks he cares, he knows he didn't care enough to simply stay away. He tried to leave Oliver but, of course, that was after it was way too late. And it's not like Constantine didn't already know that it was going to be way too late the moment he introduced himself to Oliver.

• I'm excited for the next chapter in Constantine's life! I love seeing innocent people damned to hell for being too sociable to the wrong people! Serves them right!

Monday, June 6, 2016

Constantine the Hellblazer #12


I think I've drunk this drink before.

The Review or Whatever!
Rebirth is here and I'm still slowly wandering out of the old universe looking at all the dead flowers. That's a metaphor. Metaphors are good because they add a layer of emotional feeling to the action which people might not automatically perceive. This metaphor points out how reading Prebirth comics already feels like I'm reading stories from a dead universe full of a weird, rotting, perfumed smell. Metaphors are not analogies. Analogies are bad. Oh, sure, sometimes they're entertaining. But usually the reasoning behind an analogy is that the real situation is too complicated to expect everybody to feel the same way about it, the way life always is. But if you can come up with an analogy that's slightly reminiscent of the original situation but viewed through a telescope while on Valium then you can convince anybody of anything! So if you have a situation like abortion which is really complicated in a lot of ways and even if you're on the correct side which is pro-it's-not-your-life-so-butt-the-fuck-out you should still be able to see how people can be on the other side which is pro-I'm-going-to-force-you-to-live-by-my-beliefs. But it's much easier to pretend it's analogous to kicking puppies so you can end your argument saying something like, "And who would kick a puppy? Only a monster because there's never any reason to kick a puppy!" I know, I know! It's a poor analogy (like they all are) because even now I can think of a whole bunch of reasons I'd kick a puppy. I hope you get my point because I'm tired of this train of thought and am ready to move on.

Here's a thing I hate about writing to the masses on the Internet. You often feel like you need to over-explain every single thing you write because people are waiting to ambush you for any particular thing they can easily and purposefully misunderstand to turn your words against you. But I'm not writing to those idiots and assholes. I'm writing to intelligent people who can understand what I'm saying quickly and efficiently. I would high-five those people but high-fiving is like genocide.

Last issue began with Constantine moaning about people who try to compare New York and Los Angeles being jerks and missing the point or something. I don't really remember because that was a whole universe ago. But I got the feeling he thought they should all shut up because it annoyed me that he then went on to bash Los Angeles. Well, now he begins this issue raving about New York. So I think maybe he's one of those people. Or maybe he meant those people were missing the point because Los Angeles and New York are incomparable in the way that cats and dogs are incomparable. One is obviously so much better than the other because the other is a worthless, needy, drooling dog.

It's interesting that if you hold an opinion so strongly, you can really upset somebody else whose opinion differs. I suppose a person's reaction to me saying cats are way better than dogs depends on how a person defines themselves. If they believe the sum of who they are is based solely on the opinions they espouse, they think I'm insulting them personally. Their self-esteem probably factors in as well since somebody with a healthy self-esteem who likes dogs would just snort, know I'm wrong, and continue reading. I don't think of my ultimate self, my ego, as being composed of the things I like or the clothes I wear or my opinions on mundane bullshit. I picture the essence of who I am is how charming I am at parties.

New York has currently been taken over by Neron and turned into the Club Med of Hell. John doesn't care about that. That's not why he's suddenly getting involved. The reason he finds himself ensconced (enmeshed? Entangled? Embroiled? Imbrogliod? Embroiled in an imbroglio?) in this ordeal is because John's current lover's children have been sent to Hell by Neron. So John meets with Neron to clear up the situation using honest talk and rational logic.


That's exactly how Constantine wants his opponents to view him! Nobody worries about a tiny speck on a wall! Although sometimes that tiny speck (especially if it's partnered with an eerie weird buzzing sound) becomes a hole through which the wasps living in the walls emerge! Um, true story!

Constantine discovers that all of the people he fucked over while in Hell have joined with Neron to make Constantine's life miserable. He broke a deal with Blythe so Blythe is now able to force Constantine to follow one command of hers. It's in the Hell's Rules By-laws. You'd think Hell wouldn't have any rules. Especially when Constantine began this story saying how New York had no rules. I think that's a clue as to how Constantine is going to beat Neron. Neron is from a place where rules matter and Constantine is from a place (okay, fine. Currently been living in a place since he's actually from Liverpool or Northampton or Newcastle or something) where they don't. That's kind of Constantine's thing, anyway. To think outside the unspoken rules of any conflict.

Constantine breaks the news to Oliver that his kids are going to have to remain in Hell and Oliver gets upset for some reason. John said he tried to save them! But Oliver doesn't care and finally walks out of John's life. And John goes off to live his life like he always does after ruining the life of somebody close to him: he goes out to get laid. While chatting up a bird, he has his House, M.D., epiphany and realizes how he can beat Neron without breaking Blythe's command to stay out of it.

Back at Neron's pad, Papa Midnite continues to worry the Constantine Factor in his mental jaws.


Constantine's greatest weapon is being off the board!

Zatanna, Deadman, and Swamp Thing have started their own little Magic Club and are working on the problem of ousting Neron from New York. But this isn't their comic book so they have no idea what to do. They'll just have to wait until Constantine arrives with the plan. They don't have to wait long for him to arrive because there are only a couple of pages left this month. But they will have to wait another month to hear that plan. I suppose the plan is somehow going to make New York City valueless to Neron so that he leaves of his own volition. I can't guess the specifics though because it's magic and I'm not a magician. So one more Prebirth Issue of Constantine, I guess!

Wednesday, April 20, 2016

Constantine the Hellblazer #11


This is exactly the type of hedonistic deviltries I expect people in Hollywood to get up to.

The Review!
This version of Constantine has managed to retain the spirit of the character unlike the previous sanitized New 52 version which was just John getting into trouble with magic or demons and then John casting a dangerous spell with dire consequences to save the day and then never really having to deal with the dire consequences. It might not feel quite as gritty and dark as the Vertigo version but it's close enough that I'm really enjoying it. And besides, the main constant in Constantine's life is that every few years, he gets a new creative team to tell his stories. And this is a new team with an interesting take and conflicts that need more imaginative sorting than the ones found in the previous version.

The Commentary
This weekend, my seven year old niece wanted me to pick her up because she had a secret she wanted to tell me. When I picked her up, she said, "Will you carry me forever?" Some people may have been overwhelmed by the loving gesture but I instantly saw it as a moneymaking opportunity! I said, "Sure I can. If you pay me!" She said she had no money so I asked her how much her mother had. Long story short, my niece owes me a quarter next time I see her.


Here she is doing a better Lobo impression than Twat Lobo from The New 52.

Another thing that happened is people on Tumblr began reblogging my favorite X-men story joke but not understanding it was a joke because it was such a spot on parody of the mess the X-men have become thanks to decades of loony time travel stories. This is what I said: "Favorite X-men story: the X-men time travel from the future to stop the time traveling X-men of the past from time traveling into the future to stop the future time travelers from time traveling." It turns out this must fairly accurately describe some New X-Men story arc that I've never read because people keep tagging it with New X-men notes and defending Hank McCoy's decision to...I don't know! Fuck up continuity?! Other people have reblogged it thinking it really is an example of somebody's favorite story arc because they agree with it and think it's awesome. I am left with the conclusion that people are far too earnest than they probably think they are. My story idea is obviously nonsense! Although if it's an accurate representation of a story that happened in the X-men universe then fuck the X-men universe because that shit is shit. Which it must be because somebody replied to my joke with this: "In the end, retconning the story and making it seem like nothing happened." I shouldn't be so surprised that I can make such an educated guess as to the stories of the X-men even though I haven't read one since Grant Morrison and Josh Whedon were writing for the series because I am, after all, a Grandmaster Comic Book Reader.

To be fair, it's not like I can check all of the tags people add to every reblog. I should be earnest enough to believe that everybody gets it's a joke and stop being overly cynical about every single fucking thing that ever happens in this universe. I also should have made my niece sign an IOU.

To be more fair, one person tagged the post "No Joke". No, actually it was a joke. It was a fucking joke! It isn't actually my favorite story nor did I realize such a story seems to actually exist! I can't tell what is real anymore!

Anyway, Constantine is currently in L.A. instead of New York so that he can bitch about how people like to point out the differences between the two places. He says people who compare the two are missing the point and then begins shitting all over Los Angeles because he thinks they think they're better than everybody else. Which is probably true. But it isn't any less true about New Yorkers, so why even bring it up?


This guy's night just got interesting!

The party is being hosted by the angel Gabriel. Get it? Because it's the city of angels! Is that the real difference between New York and Los Angeles? One is full of demons and the damned and the other is full of angels and shit?

Gabriel is the guardian angel of Hollywood making sure that the entertainment industry doesn't get taken over by all those filthy demons from New York. That sounds like it could be an anti-Semitic allegory! Although if it is, it doesn't make any sense because the Jews already own Hollywood which would mean Gabriel totally fucked up his job.

Constantine has come to Gabriel for help against Neron. Oh yeah! I forgot that there was an actual story lurking in the shadows here. Constantine's argument for Gabriel's help is that if New York is taken over by Neron, all of the seedy magicians and their annoying familiars are going to flood into Los Angeles. I happen to think a good amount of them would wind up in Portland because why not? Every other loser who believes they have an ounce of creativity has found their way here.

It's possible I just insulted myself in the last sentence of the previous paragraph.


Ugh! No! I just said...NO, DAMMIT! ENOUGH!

Gabriel says he won't help so Constantine decides to just fuck off. Let somebody else deal with it. He's just going to go get drunk. The problem with that is Constantine can never just fuck off. Something always pulls him back in. And this time, it'll probably be Oliver. Or drugs. Maybe some hot sex. Alcohol? Could wind up being anything, really.

I forgot Deadman was on the cover so it surprises me when Boston Brand becomes the thing trying to pull Constantine back to New York. Although John swears he's still working with the angels even though Gabriel politely declined to help. He probably put something in the smoke he kept breathing into Gabriel's face that will cause Gabriel some kind of mystic discomfort which only John can cure and he'll only cure it if Gabriel helps. That sounds like a Constantine plan.

Eventually, Deadman just possesses John and drags him back to New York against his will. On the flight, John manages to banish Deadman but since John's stuck in New York overnight now, he decides to head home to his own bed. That's where he discovers Oliver who explains that his daughters have been taken to Hell. Whoops!

Thursday, March 17, 2016

Constantine the Hellblazer #10


John winds up in Faerie and is about to get really, really laid.

Rating: No change.

Spoiler: John doesn't get laid. He doesn't take the Faerie bait which means he doesn't fuck himself silly while visiting the one realm in the DC Youniverse where even comic book fans can get some. After having sex in Faerie, you probably wind up something's dinner but banging a Fairy is probably worth dying immediately after.

Constantine winds up back in New York where his adventure started but now he not only has Lord Neron after him but probably Lady Alexandriel the Pixie as well.

Constantine breaks up with Oliver because friends of John always die and John is beginning to feel bad that by dating Oliver, Oliver's kids are going to wind up without a father figure. But Oliver won't take "It's not me, it's you" lying down. He hires a demonic babysitter and hits the town to find John and get him back. He doesn't purposefully hire a demonic babysitter! It's just that Craigslist doesn't really vet the people who put up advertisements for their services, so you get what you get. Usually when you want a used couch or a one-night romantic encounter involving scrambled eggs, things work out as planned. But occasionally you'll encounter an asshole who isn't being totally honest about their resume or the amount of miles on the Jeep they're selling.

Thursday, February 11, 2016

Constantine the Hellblazer #9


Typical laundrymat.

Rating: No change.

I don't feel like I learned anything from this issue. Some people lied to John and then John lied to some people. That's the kind of wacky thing that's always happening in the pages of this comic book. Also there were a bunch of demons that wanted to take John's soul. Lucifer Morningstar was almost mentioned by name which means He's almost canon in the DC Youniverse! Not that everything isn't already canon thanks to Convergence. I think. Maybe that's wrong. Anyway, Constantine winds up in--SPOILER!--Faerie! That probably means he's going to have sex with lots of elf girls and boys and maybe sentient mushrooms too. And by "girls" and "boys" I mean faerie men and women but they're so fey that you can't call them "men" or "women"! They have to be referred to as girls or boys or mushrooms.

Sunday, January 24, 2016

Constantine the Hellblazer #8


This cover is aesthetically comforting.

Rating: +1 Ranking. At eight issues in, if you haven't realized that this version of Constantine is nearly just as good as the Vertigo version of Hellblazer and nothing like the shitty pale New 52 imitation Constantine then I'm now letting you know that you've missed eight issues of really fucking good Constantine stories. Did that make sense? Fuck it. Who cares. I'm not retyping a whole goddamned sentence simply because it might not be comprehensible! I'm dying here!

I mean, not that I'm dying of any impending disease or anything. I'm just dying in the way that we're all dying and every second of life is precious! So I'd rather be misunderstood than waste more time trying to get people to understand me! I know what I meant! I think. I mean, sometimes I confuse myself which seems odd because I only have one brain and you'd think that it would just understand itself without language or anything, right? Like, say, it obviously wants me to have sex with women because that's what The Bible says but then it's all, "Look at the cock outline in that guy's pants!" That's confusing, right?! Then I have to tell it, "Look, brain! Sexuality is a choice and we've chosen to be heterosexual because it's Jesus's favorite way of fucking! So stop picturing all of the cocks in your mouth."

That was all a lie. I just made up a lie because I want to be cool and you can't be cool being a white, cis-het, middle-aged male genius on Tumblr. Emphasis on the "big cock." I mean "genius." I lied again but I won't tell you what I just lied about because then you'd know my cock isn't that big.

Thursday, January 7, 2016

Constantine the Hellblazer #7


Worst picnic ever. Which is pretty bad because picnics are shit.

Do Millennials know what picnics are? Are they even allowed to go outside? Do they want to?! I mean, obviously they want to get outside of their parent's supervision which means going out of their parent's house. But that's just to get inside somewhere else, right? Outside is boring and gross and probably Islamophobic. Not that I ever really wanted to go outside much in the eighties once I got my Apple IIe computer. But I sort of had to go outside to hang out with my friends because we weren't tethered by a mass of devices which provided instant communication with each other. We had to drag our asses somewhere else to speak face to face. It was awful! Although all the girls I had crushes on were friends of my female cousin so I always wanted to be at my aunt and uncle's house anyway. And all the biking I did riding BMX bikes up from the valley to the top of the Santa Cruz Mountains and, occasionally over the other side into Santa Cruz, I didn't really want to do! I mean, it made me fit and gave me a body that women wanted to have sex with, so that was a good thing. And it allowed me to spend time with my friends who loved the torturous ride up the mountain. And I did love the ride down the mountain even if it almost cost me my life on a couple of occasions! But all that exercise and outdoor air and weather and sun and crap?! I'd rather have been home playing an Infocom game or the new Wizardry!

This issue is called "Twisted Anatomy" which is probably some kind of sly wink at the time Swamp Thing became a character worth reading. I'm not going to argue with anybody who thought Swamp Thing was a good comic book before Alan Moore's "Anatomy Lesson" because you're wrong and I don't want to waste my time. Just suck up the loss this time and shake my hand and congratulate me on winning this debate and we'll get back to Constantine.

A couple of sexers are torn apart in a park by a bunch of evil dryads. "Sexers" is my word for "sexters" but who don't use a phone. Doing it in person--instead of masturbating while taking pictures of yourself and accidentally sending them to everybody in your phone book--is totally going to become super popular some day.

Constantine has just had some sexing too! But he didn't get torn apart by dryads.


John really is distracted if he thought any message he was receiving would have been appropriate to play in front of his lover.

I wish Ming and James would have John use his lover's name so I can speak about him like he's a real person and not just one of Constantine's accessories! I mean, Scott Lobdell would have rewritten the entire last issue in the first four pages of the next month's comic book. Not that I'm asking for that! I'm asking for something between not mentioning a fairly new character's name at least once and wasting four pages repeating shit that wasn't interesting the first time I read it. Like how about this for a compromise? Mention the guy's name one time!

Anyway, John's fucktoy discovers that Constantine's bathtub is clogged with Swamp Thing. Swamp Thing has a problem with the Green. That was an obvious statement, wasn't it? It's not like he'd come around for tea or some Netflix, right? So he tells John about some trees in Central Park that have been eating lovers.


Well, maybe not people. But some plants do eat meat, so what's the problem?!

Swamp Thing says some things that I could summarize really quickly but I'm going to draw out at length so that I have a bit of a word buffer before I insert another scanned panel that's just too adorable and vulgar for words and crotches. Central Park in New York City (not to be confused with Central Perk in Fake TV-Land New York City) has become closed to his Swamp-Thing-Sense. He needs Constantine to become Johnny Swampthingseed and spread Swamp Things jism all over the park so he can once again take control of it. That's probably enough words now.


These two are so cute together.

Constantine takes a bundle of little Swamp Things into the park to let them run wild and plant themselves everywhere to allow Swamp Thing to enter Central Park. The little Swamp Things are as cute as ever. They'll probably all be killed.

Constantine mentions the kid fiddling with the helmet of Fate which is a strange thing to mention when everybody in New York seems unworried about the flooding that's ending the world. Maybe this takes place after the first story arc of Doctor Fate ends which--extrapolating based on how long it feels it's run so far--forever and ever.

Constantine scares away some women about to have sex which is really disappointing. But I guess he needed their sexy mojo and then his urine to summon up the Dryads.


Ugh! I hated having to babysit newbies on their first trip!

The Dryads are just raving toddlers so Swamp Thing brings back the Mother of All Dryads to teach them to be peaceful. And just like that, the sexy tree adventure is over. It's really just another piece of evidence that John's New York is going full Ghostbusters.

After the adventure, Swamp Thing gives John some love advice. His advice is not to.

Constantine heads home thinking about the danger he's putting Oliver in. Oliver! That's what I though his name was but then I wouldn't allow myself the luxury of feeling secure about my guess because I assumed I was only thinking of Oliver because of John Oliver. Stupid brain is smarter than I realized.

John gets home and calls Oliver to break up. But Papa Midnite answers the phone because Oliver is naked and ready to be sacrificed with mystic symbols all over his chest and--oh yeah!--tied up at the moment. I knew there was a cliche in there somewhere!

Constantine the Hellblazer #7 Rating: No change. I'm sorry to wish death on poor old Oliver but we can't be playing now, can we? John gets all of his friends killed eventually so why should Oliver be any different? Okay, sure! I'll give you that he doesn't need to be killed immediately! He can survive this thing with Papa Midnite and then tell John that he's willing to risk a relationship with him and maybe even help him on some ghost hunts. He'll be all super into it and it'll make his dick as hard as rock and he and John will end every magical adventure filling each other up with come! But he'd eventually better fucking die, goddammit!

Monday, November 23, 2015

Constantine the Hellblazer #6


Homophobic zombies are the worst.

I feel like "homophobic zombies" is a redundant phrase. Before the theme of zombie movies became the less than subtle "humans are the most dangerous monsters," wasn't the theme usually something along the lines of the loss of critical thought multiplied by apathy and increased by the power of selfish desires turns people into unthinking creatures driven by consumerism, prejudice, and fear? Wait. Are we currently living in a zombie apocalypse?! That's too bad because I don't own a shotgun. My only weapon is this blog and that's just fucking pathetic. And now I'm asking people to pay for it! Christ, who do I think I am? Christ? Although for just one dollar per month, you can enjoy being blasted in the face by my carelessly offensive words on a daily basis! You know what? It's probably a good thing I don't own a shotgun.

Has anybody tried defeating zombies with Pop Rocks? I don't know how it would work but I think I've grabbed hold of the tail of some fantastic scheme!

This story has nothing to do with Pop Rocks but you'll realize why I thought of it after I tell it. One time, I was on LSD while at the Great America amusement park in Santa Clara, California. My friend Mike and I were walking up to stand in line for The Demon (standing in line for a roller coaster while on LSD is like a sine wave ranging from overwhelming hilarity to soul-crushing paranoia). A small boy was standing around the front of the roller coaster where you enter. As I passed him, he looked up at me, held out a long sparkling plastic package and said, "Want some Fizz?" My eyes grew huge, I held out both hands as if I were pleading for alms, and said, "Yes. Please." Fizz, if you've never had it, is a hard candy with a center that fizzles like burning gunpowder when it hits your tongue. Except it isn't painful like I imagine a mouthful of burning gunpowder would be. If I were of a religious bent, I would claim that boy was a small miracle sent from heaven to provide me with an experience I didn't know I needed while tripping balls. I would probably also be really fucking annoying and use the word "blessed" way too fucking often. I would also need to look up the definition of the word "miracle" and stop using it in cases that most obviously aren't. I'm glad I'm not of a religious bent!

Constantine isn't religious either although I think maybe he should be. He does deal with demons and angels a bit too much for him to logically be anything but a believer. He might be a self-hating agnostic though.

The issue begins with Constantine dealing with a health and safety violation in his apartment building.


I feel like this would be less annoying than a tenant living with a dog.

The little girl turns out to be Walter, an ex-Arch-Duke of Hell. He figured Constantine would help more quickly if it were a little girl in trouble. Walter has been spending his time on Earth rescuing cats and getting them set up in nice apartments with subservient ape roommates. Constantine compliments Walter by calling him the most boring demon he's ever met.

Since I don't have anything horribly nasty to say about this comic book after the first four pages, I'll tear into Scott Lobdell for a second. If this were a Lobdell comic book, the first four pages would have been spent reminding everybody who the characters were and repeating the last four pages of the previous comic book (although sometimes changing things because he had a new idea in the interim between writing his scripts). I get that "every issue is somebody's first issue" but he takes it to the extreme. I suppose if I wrote comic books as poorly as Scott Lobdell does, I'd expect the only people reading each subsequent issue would be new readers because who the fuck would read a second issue after wading through the crap tsunami of my horrible story? Oh, um, the reason I brought up Lobdell is because the first four pages of this comic book are more entertaining than the entire run of Doomed. Oh, sure, I've seen some people praise that comic book. But those "people" are only defined as "people" by the narrowest of margins.

Now see what I mean about being "blasted in the face by my carelessly offensive words"? Any of you morons who enjoy Lobdell's writing are now suffering from my word flak.


I may be a plebe for watching shitty television shows but at least I've never damned anybody's soul to Hell! I don't think.

After John gets his fill of sitting around his house naked and causing me to think about how I will never again sit upon somebody else's furniture, he checks his Craigslist...I mean, "Kregslist" ad to find sixty four people seem to be in need of an exorcist. When Constantine mentioned he was going to pay his rent legitimately, I thought he meant he was going to go work as a line cook for a bit. I'm not sure an advertisement on "Kregslist" to do exorcisms counts as real work. Okay, maybe it does count in the comic book world and/or Portland, Oregon, but normally I'd just assume it was a scam.

Constantine accepts a job to exorcise some demon named Gordred out of a young boy. I'm sure just using the phrase "young boy" causes all of the latent pedophiles to giggle uncontrollably after which they rush off to troll women on the internet because they view all women as protective mothers which threatens their ability to destroy youthful innocence. In other words, misogynist trolls are all pedophiles. Quid pro exacto quorum.

I should probably learn the actual Latin used as the punctuation for an argument proven demonstrably instead of just making things up. Maybe it's "sum emptor caveat"?

I hope I didn't accidentally send anybody's soul to hell after writing out all that Latin! I'm pretty sure spells only work if the caster spouts a bunch of Latin.

Constantine solves the first exorcism of sixty-four because he knows the demon inhabiting the kid. They go out for a drink and then he moves on to some other cases.


No! Keep it as a pet! Constantine, you need a raccoon pet! I need you to need a raccoon pet, you tosser!

Constantine brings a raver down off of demonic molly, clears out a Karaoke joint of unwanted dragons, finds a family whose faces were stolen, fixes Nightvale's Dog Park, and repairs a washing machine before finally winding up in Central Park to find out some important information from a gargoyle named Bartleby. I think they meet at the fountain where Death took that kid playing soccer that one time.

Bartleby points out that Constantine is going to be forced to help the city whether Constantine wants to help New York or not. I guess some Ghostbusters shit is going down and Constantine is the only one who can save New York. I suppose other magic heroes could save New York but they don't have their own comic books, do they? Lazy bastards.

I really wish Madame Xanadu would get her own book so I could publicly vent my vile hatred for her. Maybe I'll buy her old series just to rant and rave. That fucking barn owl Xanadu pisses me off so much!

John's night ends with him running into Oliver hanging around his apartment with a big bag of curry. Mmm, curry. Mmm. Mmmmmmmm. Um, I think this comic book is over now. Something came up that I need to do! So, um, Constantine decides maybe fucking Oliver won't be the worst thing in the world since he's gotten people killed so many times before, what's one more? Especially if that one more can make him wail like a banshee who is coming because it's being fucked in the ass while getting a rough, ball-slapping reach around.

Constantine the Hellblazer #6 Rating: +1 Ranking. A real comic book reviewer would explain to you why the comic book they just read is better than a lot of other comic books they tend to read. No, wait. A real comic book reviewer would, in most cases, say a bunch of nice shit about any comic book they've read, especially if it were written or drawn by a professional whom they've met and with whom they feel they have some kind of rapport. But I'm just this stupid asshole who enjoys hearing myself type. You get what I mean. So I don't know how to express why this book is so much better than...let's say...Cullen Bunn's "Lost Army." I mean, I could tell you why that comic book is crappy crap of a...well, just smear crap on a bunch of words and that pretty much describes it. What I might be getting at is that when a story forms around a well thought out character, the comic book tends to be better than when a character is made to fit within the confines of the plot. Like Cullen Bunn's "Aquaman"! That isn't an Aquaman story at all, so it doesn't work. It's also possible that I just don't like anything I've read by Cullen Bunn and so I decided to use this space to criticize his writing. Yes, that's also possible. Who knows, really? Ultimately my intent doesn't matter because the reader is so fucking important that apparently whatever the reader concludes with their tiny minds is what matters. Pshaw! I mean, unless that reader is a Grandmaster Comic Book Reader! And then the Reader is more important than the Writer! Whew! I almost wrote myself into a corner there. Nice save, me!

If you enjoyed this review and want to help support me so I can keep justifying spending time doing these things, how about supporting my Patreon? If you support me, I'll try not to insult you personally. I promise I didn't just keep my fingers crossed as I typed that.

Thursday, October 22, 2015

Constantine the Hellblazer #5


I'd rather kiss the huge mass of intestines than the smoker.

In a culture where everybody expresses their individuality and their personality through the products they consume, actively avoiding the consumption of specific products constitutes activism. In other words, doing nothing allows a person to participate in a movement. If a person really wants to ruffle some feathers, they are also free to express disdain via some form of social media. I suppose that's fitting since all a person has to do to be notable nowadays is to inspire or raise awareness. I often wish that I were daft and naive enough to be awed and inspired by the insipid and the mundane.

Fuck I'm in a mood. I've got a head cold because I dared to be sociable and visit family with children. Fucking children. If that wasn't bad enough, I had cookies with black frosting on them. Has anybody looked into the dangers of black frosting because it turned my poo green. Is that a feature or a side effect? Shouldn't somebody be raising awareness about black frosting and inspiring people to stop buying it?

Enough of the preamble. If I preamble any more, I'm just going to rant and rave about how people of average intelligence are destroying this country. The good thing about that rant is that nobody would be pissed off by it because everybody thinks they're of above average intelligence! Especially the stupid people!

This issue is called "Pretty Girls Make Graves" which is a great title for a movie even if I'm too stupid to understand what it means.


I'm fairly certain all of my exes were roiling masses of disembodied vengeance long before I ever slept with any of them.

Constantine is searching the Secret Magic Library of Trinity College, Cambridge, looking for a way to help Veronica return to the material world so she doesn't have to keep eating John's ghost friends. If she were human again, she wouldn't need to seek revenge against John. Plus maybe she'd be fuckgrateful?

John learns that one who has disappeared from reality in the way Veronica has--without proper planning from the very beginning--is doomed to remain in the void forever. Unless she hates or loves somebody or something strongly enough to keep her linked to reality. Veronica is linked to John by one of those and is now lashing out in confusion and killing the ghosts surrounding John. Now he must kill or cure her.


Intent is a slippery beast. Sometimes it matters; sometimes it doesn't. It depends on the observer's perspective, I suppose. I would pretend my intent was to cure because it just sounds better.

Constantine decides to go see if Georgiana Snow has removed the rabbit from out of her ass and is ready to help him out. I hope John asks how her brother Elijah is doing this time.

At first, George is all, "I can't help you, John, because I have this huge rabbit in my ass." But John is all, "If you help me, I'll never bother you again!" And then George is all, "Ta-da! First I make the rabbit disappear, and then I'll make you disappear! Let's get this over with, ya prick!"

Constantine takes George to visit their old friend Veronica who is now their new not-so-much-of-a-friend the vengeance beast. Constantine points out how they both abandoned Veronica; it wasn't just John's fault that she felt unloved and unwanted. Once Veronica chose to be with Constantine, Georgie washed her hands of her. And now they both need to finally come to their friend's aid.

George isn't able to save Veronica and so she must destroy Veronica's link to reality. Thankfully that link isn't Constantine; it's the book she used to try to displace her soul. George is forced to burn it which frees Veronica from her link to the vengeance beast.


Just another day in the life of John Constantine, and another enemy, and a whole bunch more self-loathing.

Constantine the Hellblazer #5 Rating: No change. Be assured, I know what I'm doing is meaningless. I am not here to inspire. I am not here to raise awareness. I am not here to wax rhapsodic on philosophy or ethics or the meaning(lessness) of life. I am merely entertaining myself by reading stories and writing my insipid comments on them. In a way, Constantine and I are very much alike. We are self-absorbed misanthropes who only feel close to the people we have ultimately failed because--let's face it--we never have to deal with them again and can afford the luxury of believing we once cared. If there's a way in or out of any situation, we take the easy way simply because it's easy. If a price must be paid for that later on, we simply find somebody else willing to pay that price for us and we continue on in our narcissistic self-loathing. Next to Jonah Hex, he's my favorite character!

Saturday, September 26, 2015

Constantine the Hellblazer #4


The Surgeon General reports that smoking will cause good times and death and getting laid and good memories.

Did anybody watch the new Muppets show on ABC and not receive a phone call afterward that told them they have seven days left to live? Was it supposed to be a comedy? I did notice some complaints around the internet that it wasn't kid friendly enough and it had too many references to drugs and sex. The people who were making those complaints must not remember the original show. You do remember that it starred a frog that was fucking a pig, right? Sure, it wasn't blatantly stated but what did anybody think was going on? And who didn't already know Dr. Teeth and the Electric Mayhem were all fucked up on drugs? Who was naive enough to believe they weren't just because it was never explicitly stated? Look, Gonzo was, and always has been, a chicken fucker and people just let that shit go! Apparently subtlety really does fool stupid people (and by "subtlety," I suppose I mean "not explicitly stating something outright but making it as obvious as possible anyway"). The original Muppet Show was written and played for adults. It was never meant to be a kids show. I mean, Alice Cooper guest starred on one show and tried to purchase their souls. Was that meant for kids? Sure, it didn't play anything in a way that kept parents from letting kids watch. But neither did the new one. Back when the original Muppets aired, parents seemed to understand that adult jokes were not going to be picked up by the kids. Parents nowadays seem to think that if they can understand a joke in an adult way, their child has just been corrupted. People, your kid didn't even notice.

The new Muppets really was a trainwreck though. It definitely wasn't funny enough (or at all?) to end with that serious breakup scene between Kermit and Miss Piggy. Was that supposed to be emotional? Because everybody has been screaming at that frog to drop that horrible pig for decades now! People should have been cheering at that scene! Kermit should have taken control of his life and eaten a bacon wrapped hot dog with extra bacon and a side of bacon right in front of her! He should have had her arrested! I wouldn't have minded if he'd sold her to the local butcher and beat it out of town.

The show takes a giant misstep filming it Office-style and being more about the behind-the-scenes of running the show rather than just airing it like a variety show with behind-the-scenes happenings during the show (like the old one!). Sure, maybe that would have sucked as well because, again, the writing was terrible. But I'd rather see weird acts by Muppets than Tom Bergeron acting like a sad sack. If the show gets any better, somebody will have to let me know because I won't be watching it again. Probably because I'm going to be visited by a girl climbing out of a well climbing out of my television in a few days.

And now on to our regularly scheduled broadcast which has to be better than discussion of the Muppets which did not have a single laugh-out-loud moment no matter what easily amused people say. Last issue, we met Georgie Snow. I hope she turns out to be Elijah Snow's sister! She, like everybody in the paranormal business, hates John Constantine and refused to be pulled into his shenanigans. She might still be since she was introduced but I think she might be sitting this story arc out from now on. Unless the ghost of her friend Veronica turns up to tell John he was a lousy lay (which would probably be a lie but then you don't go around telling the person who's probably to blame for your death that they were fantastic in the sack).


He can't be drinking "that" in here. Because you're only allowed to drink PBR and Old Milwaukee in record stores. Possibly Hamms and Rainer as well.

Constantine has decided drunkenness is better than heroics so he's going to just drink and drink and lose himself in memories of the past instead of helping a bunch of ghosts not get eaten by the Ghostbuster.

In John's memories, Veronica wants to quit the band (Mucus Membrane (probably not named for the ones in your nasal passages)) because they're getting too wrapped up in the magic. They're playing for demons instead of people now. She called home and nobody remembers her. She's freaking out but John doesn't want to hear it. He's deep in the thrall of the magic and it's all he cares about. Pretty soon he'll learn that he cares more about staying alive which will force him deeper into the magic and further away from caring about the welfare of his friends (at least when it comes to his life versus theirs, ya know?).

So far Elijah Snow hasn't appeared in any of John's memories. But it'll happen! It has to happen! Why name a character Georgiana Snow and not make her Elijah's sister?!


John, stop being a dick. These people have obviously chosen beauty over truth. Most people do. It's why religion is so popular.

A bunch of the ghosts following John around hoping he'll help them suddenly appear on stage with Constantine. And then the Ghostbuster appears and begins feeding on the poor, lost souls. The living people run screaming from the joint. Constantine just stands around wondering where his next drink is going to come from. I suppose one of two things is going to have to happen to pull Constantine out of this drunken spiral. Georgie Snow is going to have to decide to help him, or he'll run into Veronica's ghost which he'll care enough to save.

Constantine heads back to the Secret Library Wing at Cambridge where Georgiana studied the dark arts where he meets the old librarian who says he can answer John's questions. But John doesn't want questions answered. He just wants to wallow in his despair and misery and alcohol.


And write Magnetic Poetry!

Constantine remembers the last time he saw Veronica and how he abandoned her and how he broke not only her heart but her entire life. But mostly Constantine remembers how little he cared. Although now that it's too late, now that he's so far removed from that time and place, he's found he does care. Isn't that the way though? Isn't it always easier to believe you cared more about something than you actually did when you're suddenly steeped in the nostalgia of the thing? So John--saddened by his current place in life, distraught that he's lost the ghost of Gaz, disturbed by his memories of the way he treated Veronica, mind clouded by alcohol--has come to a point of despair. He calls out to the Ghostbuster and allows it to come for him. He stands his ground and allows it to consume him. He's ready for it all to end.


Bom chicka wah wah!

Constantine the Hellblazer #4 Rating: +1 Ranking. Doyle and Tynion understand how to write Constantine. It isn't all about defeating the Bad Thing by casting the most dangerous spell in the world that has too high a cost to count! And then casting the spell and succeeding and then never really paying much of a price at all. Constantine is about the dark places he's allowed himself to travel. It's about living a life damaged by all of the prices he's paid along the way. Yes, he's cocky and arrogant and always has a trick up his sleeve. He's full of bluster and sound and fury to hide the fact that he's nearly always just flying by the seat of his trenchcoat. He's not just the guy who always finds a way out. He's the guy haunted by the things he did to find those ways out. Doyle and Tynion understand Constantine enough that they are succeeding despite the limits placed on this book due to it not being in the Vertigo line. If you were disappointed with the original run of Constantine after The New 52, it's safe to come back to the character now. I give this book the Eee! Tess Ate Chai Tea Stamp of Approval.

Wednesday, August 19, 2015

Constantine the Hellblazer #3


One out of every fifty people finds this cover sexually exciting.

This blog is not for you. This is not a blog where I review comic books, no matter how much I dress it up to look like a goddamned whore ("Goddamned whore" is my preferred nomenclature for professional critics). This blog is a meditation. It is a private diary. It is my scalp torn back, my skull sawed off, and my brain exposed for the curious and perverse to gawk at and to judge. It is sometimes more honest than it professes to be, the honesty hidden between the lies. When I'm depressed, I can mope about here while trying to make others smile. When I'm manic, this place is a fucking circus where the clowns are allowed to jerk off in your face and the elephants allowed to run free. But far too often lately (and I blame Convergence and/or the death of my writing partner, Judas), it can become a chore. It's just another item on the list to be completed so I can earn a sticker and a brief amount of praise ("praise" meaning, as I learned as a child, "being ignored instead of yelled at"). I don't want this to be a chore. I don't want this to be work. So I'm taking this blog back from all of you. I'm taking it back from every person who complained that I used the word "cunt" or "retarded." I'm taking it back from every person that expected to know my opinion of a comic book after they finished reading a review and were left thinking, "What the fuck was that?" I'm taking it back for my sanity. Although I'm not going to take it all the way back to what it was when I first began because--HOO BOY!--some of that stuff was shit! Who was that guy from three years ago? Who let that asshole have a blog?!

Here's the very first entry on the original manifestation of Eee! Tess Ate Chai Tea (a blog I created simply for the name) from February 16th, 2010:

How do people plan their lives? How does one go about it? If life is like a maze, never knowing what will be around any approaching corner, how do you stick to your plan? How do you find your way? Perhaps you hurry through the inevitable wanderings, arterials, and dead ends, since they're easily recognizable as not part of the plan. But what if the newly found path is more entertaining, more magical, more interesting than the path you've already chosen for yourself? Do you throw away your initial plan? Do you write up a new one? Do you throw in the towel or rally against fate or God or the universe? Do you throw your arms up to the sky in defeat or defiance?

How does one go on with life when life doesn't care about your plan?

My aunt once asked me when I was barely in my twenties, "Where do you see yourself in ten years?" I answered, "Where did you see yourself ten years ago?"

I've never had a plan. Perhaps, now 40 [actually 39 when this was written--Know It All Tess!], that was a mistake. But I had dreams. Maybe it's time to start following those instead of simply wandering.

So that was me five years ago! Guess who's still fucking wandering, bitches?!

Oh yeah! I'm taking back saying "bitches!" at the end of sentences too! Not all sentences. I don't want to seem insensitive.

So I will actually be 45 at the end of September [Actually, 44!--Know-it-all-but-only-on-the-second-edit-Tess!]. I think. Let me do the math. Where's the calculator app on this thing? Um...yep! Forty-five [Nope!--Know-practically-nothing-Tess!]! And I've got nothing to show for it except my own small business and an intense hatred for shaving and a dead best friend of fifteen years buried in the backyard and a loving Non-Certified Spouse of eighteen years or so. Let me get out my calculator app again. Hmm, this thing is useless! Why doesn't it have a button to show the date I met the Non-Certified Spouse?!

I don't know what anybody should expect to change around here. Probably nothing. What simply needs to change is my attitude.

Goddammit. My high school English teacher was right!

Oh wait. I lied about my first blog entry! The one I previously said was the first one was the last one from the first month of the blog being set up. The first entry was this:

My cat is staring at me.

Stop it. Stop staring at me! Go away. Thank you.

I must have been preparing to masturbate.

Here's another post from the first month which I just read and now I'm crying:

A Dream

I was in some weird refugee camp when a Mexican guy entered the camp and sat by me smiling. A number of versions of him entered and sat down by other people, whispering in their ears. I looked at him quizzically and he said, "Watch this."

An older woman entered the camp and began walking up to the people being whispered to. She'd touch them gently, smiling, and move on. She came to me and took my hand. She began to walk off but before letting go of my hand completely, her smile faltered. She looked concerned and held my hand a bit tighter. She looked down at me and said, "Tell me about your pet."

"My pet?" I said as she said the same thing at the same time, laughing. "He's black and fuzzy?"

"No, tell me about him. He's very affectionate, isn't he?"

"He is. He loves head scratches and when you take your hand away, he'll grab it with his paw and pull it back to him. I call him my familiar. He's very much like me. He's quite aware of his surroundings and quick to learn things to his advantage."

"Is he good or evil?" she asked.

"Hmm? He's good most of the time, I guess. But he can turn on you if he's in the mood. He's not good or evil. He's a cat."

"Would you kill him to save the world?" she asked me seriously.

"No," I told her and she looked sad and moved on.

That was a dream about Judas who died October 22nd, 2014. I dreamt about him a couple of weeks ago. In the dream, I was simply happy to be cuddling with him (I was lying sort of over him restraining him so he didn't attack some newly hatched ducks. He was busy licking up the birth goo from the broken eggs). I said to Judas, "I thought you were dead! I'll never make that mistake again!" And it felt like reality had been the dream and the dream was now reality and I couldn't have been happier. Before I awoke, I was gazing into his eyes, just happy to be with him again. I was not sad when I awoke. I was jubilant, and satisfied.

Most of you still reading are probably wondering what this has to do with Constantine. I don't know. I haven't even opened it yet. But I will. Just let me go wash my face first.

This issue of Constantine begins in the past so that's what all this rummaging about in the past of the blog has to do with anything! So there! Nailed it!


Oh. I really thought he was talking about the adrenaline of being punched in the face!

I was punched in the face once (twice, if you count the time I was riding shotgun in a convertible BMW and my friend took a right hand turn way too fast and I tried to brace myself on the hood of the car which wasn't there and punched myself in the face instead)! The guy who punched me was five or six inches taller than me and full of muscles. After I jumped back up from the ground where I fell thinking, "He hit me!", I hit him with my Hosoi skateboard (I mention it was a Hosoi because if you know your skateboards, you know Hosoi made some motherfucking solid boards). I wasn't punched because I was being a dick. It was a total misunderstanding in which some meatheads misunderstood my passing by their house on a skateboard for...I don't know...terrorism or something. If I've ever been punched other than those two times, it was a really great punch which completely knocked the memory of itself out of my head.

Constantine was getting beat up so that he could steal two concert tickets to The End of the World show. He and the guy punching him say a few things that are just spelled with pentagrams. I think that means they're swearing! I usually just say, "Fudgsicles!" and then the Non-Certified Spouse says, "Now I want a pudding pop!" And then I say, "I was swearing! You're were supposed to hear a swear!" And then she says, "Fudgsicles!" and I say, "Stop swearing!" Then she says, "Fudge Packers!" and I go on a rant about how insensitive that is and how she really needs to think about how people whose job it is to pack fudge must feel whenever they have to tell people what they do for a living.

John's memory is about his first meeting with Georgiana Snow and Veronica Delacroix. They sound like vampires and/or plantation owners! One of them wants to fuck John and the other one wants nothing to do with John. That probably means he'll fuck George, the one that hates his guts. That's a typical story twist that everybody would prefer wouldn't take place but it always does. Although this is John Constantine and Hellblazer, so George probably still hates him and has always hated him and has never so much as touched him except to hold his hand during a seance. Especially since in the future (or present, depending on perspective), Constantine has traveled to London to get George's help killing the Ghostbuster in New York.


George currently has a lucrative career. Also dead people fucking! Did you see that panel?! Hee hee!

Constantine arrives and there are more panels of the dead people screwing and from different angles! I think I see some vagina! Unless that's a scrotum. Oh, who cares what it is! It all starts out from the same fetal material, so if I jerk to it, it doesn't make me gay or hetero or anything! Just horny!

Except now I've lost the mood because I said "jerk it" and "fetal" in the same sentence.

George's current problem is that the dead people didn't want to die fucking with runes cut into their bodies. They just wanted to not have runes cut into their bodies and to not die but they probably didn't mind the fucking bit. That bit is always a lot of fun. Except the first time when the girl you're about to lose your virginity to doesn't realize you're a virgin and she thinks she needs to prep your weiner with a little bit of sucking and you're thinking, "Should I come now? Does she want me to come now? I think she wants me to come now?" And then you just come because you really didn't have that much control anyway. I mean, a woman was touching your wiener! Just knowing that a woman wanted to touch your wiener when you're a teenager will make the stupid thing go off!

Anyway, um, Constantine wants to help George with her problem.


So what happened to Veronica? Did she get turned into a living marionette?! That loves to fuck?!

Constantine determines the demonic culprit behind the corpse orgy is a Succubus. He modifies his theory once he finds its lair full of lotion and video games and stacks of porn magazines. It's an Incubus. Constantine goes in to destroy it but he's quickly overwhelmed by the Incubus and its Incubus roomies. Luckily George was waiting for his arrogance to make him incompetent and she swoops in to rescue Constantine. Georgie tells Constantine that Veronica has been dead for three years and how it's John's fault and how it's always John's fault and maybe John should just go back to New York and never bother her again.

Oh, come on! Everybody knows that's not happening, Georgie! You especially!

Constantine the Hellblazer #3 Rating: +1 Ranking. Remember when DC Comics had that other book they were marketing which was called "Constantine" but it starred somebody other than John Constantine? I don't know who that guy was but it wasn't him. This is him. This is Constantine back to form. This is a comic book that I can point to when people say, "You read comic books?!" Then I point to Constantine the Hellblazer and say, "That?! No! That's not mine! I read things like Grape Expectations and War and Pizza!" Then I realize I'm hungry and I stop typing and I go to the grocery store. By, um...ahem...way of the comic book store, of course. It's Wednesday!